#they're all good in a different true to the series way

[the-way-astray]

okay wait if you don’t mind me asking why don’t you like incorrect quotes?

anon, i swear this was not meant to be this long

my reasons are 100% subjective. over the years, i've dabbled in several different fandoms. and i find that the same incorrect quote format is used to describe relationships between characters in different series that i find to not be alike at all. for example, i've seen multiple of the same incorrect quote formats used for both percabeth and sokeefe, when i don't find the relationships to be that similar to one another at all. it's just that people see one dimension of sophie and annabeth (let's say smart) and one dimension of percy and keefe (let's say funny) and then the entire incorrect quote becomes about that. i find sokeefe and percabeth to be two entirely different relationships with few things in common (which i've talked about), but the incorrect quotes flatten them to those qualities only and i don't like that.

the sokeefe-percabeth thing is just an example, by the way, one i picked because i feel most people i'm talking to would understand it, but i've also seen the same incorrect quote formats used to describe relationships like jurdan or kanej . . . and if you've read tfota or soc you know how drastically dissimilar jurdan or kanej are to either sokeefe or percabeth (and each other). and i find that these indirect comparisons drawn between relationships like this flattens certain characters quite a bit. this is how we get stuff like "sokeefe is basically kotlc percabeth" and stuff like that.

then, once a character has been given a "role" (i use the term loosely) they have to occupy all the aspects that come with that "role". so then they're only allowed to be that "role" in the incorrect quote, even if the quote requires them to say/do things they would never say/do, because they've been slated into that role based on that one aspect. take this quote for example:

keefe has been slated into the role of "one that has a crush on sophie" for the purposes of this particular quote. but keefe doesn't ramble like this. he doesn't like his dad and would never discuss a crush on sophie with him (but this one i'm not that mad about since you could as easily change cassius to ro or something). he doesn't use exaggerated metaphors to describe things and he doesn't speak in purple prose. he does a pretty good job hiding his crush and would never inadvertently reveal it like this. do you see what i mean? because of the fact that the format requires him to be "one with a crush on sophie", he now has to fulfill all the other aspects the format requires, even though they don't apply to him. and it no longer feels like keefe. it flattens him down to this one aspect.

i feel like this flattening aspect of incorrect quotes does have a (very small, sort of indirect) effect on the way characters are perceived in fanon. and i don't like it? it's very weird to me. so i prefer to stay away from it. (best examples i can think of are cardan and kaz, who are both morally gray, but lots of incorrect quotes portray them as hopelessly in love with their love interests or malewives, and while that's true, them being slated into that role for the purpose of the incorrect quote often makes them out to be the kind that would doodle hearts around names in notebooks or blush or be in that sort of cutesy-teenager-with-a-crush kind of romance. and . . . uh . . . yeah, they love jude and inej, but that's like. not at all what either relationship is like. it's just not.)

also some incorrect quotes are so desperate to slate characters into certain "roles", as i call them, that they forsake crucial aspects of the character in the process, or actively make them do/say things that go against something that is a core aspect of that character. and i don't like the way the quote is willing to misinterpret something so crucial to the character for the sake of the incorrect quote exemplifying something much less important like "the funny one" or "the one with a crush on ___".

incorrect quotes also have a tendency to portray what a character actually wants to do, rather than how they would realistically behave, given the circumstances. take this quote (and ignore the weird anti-sophitz-ness for the moment, i'm trying to make a point):

in canon, it's kind of a point that sophie "isn't aware" of her crush on keefe, so to speak. she knows she has a crush on fitz. she may subconsciously want to kiss keefe, but remember, she thinks she likes fitz. so this incorrect quote just frustrates me because that's not what sophie would do!!!!!!! she would kiss fitz. actually, she would get all nervous and blushy and try to worm her way out of it. and if this is a post-stellarlune quote, and she knows she likes keefe, she wouldn't address fitz directly like that??? she would trying so hard not to look at fitz because omg omg omg i have to kiss my new boyfriend in front of my old boyfriend who appears to still not be over me. like the quote requires you to change fundamental aspects of sophie's personality/behavior to buy it. my analysis brain can't handle that. my problem is that i can't enjoy the quote for the quote, because my brain is always instead picking apart how un-character the incorrect quote feels.

having said all of that, i fully understand that anyone who likes incorrect quotes or engages with them frequently knows all this. i don't think you all are stupid. obviously keefe would never say something like that first example i showed in canon. that's understood! the point is to make fun of his crush on sophie. i get it. it's all in good fun. i just prefer not to engage with incorrect quotes because the flattening aspect makes me personally want to scream that the character would never do or say that, because at this point the character doesn't even feel like the character, so what even is the point of the quote anymore??? and then i get stuck in a loop.

and like i said in my original tags, i would never want to completely get rid of incorrect quotes. they're easy to make, fun, easily digestable, and in general sort of a safe way to get started in fandoms. they're the safety net of fandoms, and i think they really are crucial for smaller/more obscure fandoms where nobody wants to do hardcore analysis stuff but people still want to talk about their favorite media. so i think, for the purposes they fulfill, they're alright.

[sharknadoblog]

seinfeld finale was good. and lost finale was good. mad men finale was GOOD. y'all just don't get it. I do tho. it's hard but someone CLEARLY has to.

[akari-hope]

.

[yumeka-sxf]

Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 1

This is a post series I've been planning for a while and I've finally had the time to complete part 1! 😃 I may have mentioned here before that I got my B.A. in Japanese/East Asian Studies, and even though I'm not fluent, I know the linguistics of the language fairly well. So I thought it would be fun to examine the interesting aspects of the Japanese version of the SxF manga that aren't reflected in the English translation. It might also be an informative experience for those who don't know any Japanese to learn a bit about the language through SxF! I'll try not to get too technical with the linguistics and keep my explanations at a beginner's level.

-----

Part 1 - Twilight's "honne and tatemae"

One of the main themes in SxF is how many of the characters have secrets they want to hide, so they act a certain way in front of others in order to mask their true selves. Japanese has a word for this phenomena called 本音と建前 ("honne and tatemae").

I remember learning about the concept of "honne and tatemae" during my Japanese college studies – a quick google search will yield a lot of publications on the topic and its relation to Japanese culture in particular. While the idea of hiding one's true intentions behind a fake facade can exist anywhere and is not something unique to Japan, it is enough of an occurrence in Japanese culture that there are specific words for it. The Wiki article has a basic but good definition of honne and tatemae, to quote:

A person's honne may be contrary to what is expected by society or what is required according to one's position and circumstances, and they are often kept hidden, except with one's closest friends. Tatemae is what is expected by society and required according to one's position and circumstances, and these may or may not match one's honne. In many cases, tatemae leads to outright telling of lies in order to avoid exposing the true inward feelings.

Sounds very much like the characters in SxF, doesn't it? Twilight especially, because unlike other characters like Yor and Anya, who simply have secrets they need to keep but don't create fake personas for themselves, Twilight does – the cheerful, friendly Loid Forger is a different person from the cold, calculating Twilight after all. Also unlike Yor and Anya, who speak the same way consistently no matter who they're talking to, Twilight uses different speech levels depending on which persona he's using and who he's talking to.

There are many different levels of speech in Japanese, ranging from super formal to totally crude. These speech levels are distinguished mostly by the pronouns the speaker chooses to use for themselves and who they're speaking to, as well as how they choose to conjugate the words they use. For example, 座ってください (suwatte kudasai), 座って (suwatte,) and 座れ (suware) all mean "sit," as in, telling someone to sit down. But the tone being conveyed is different: the first one is polite, the second one is casual, and the last one could be seen as rude if you're not using it with a close friend/family member.

As Twilight, he uses casual speech with the masculine and less polite pronoun 俺 or オレ (ore). This is the speech he uses when talking to a fellow spy like Fiona, and for his own inner thoughts.

As Loid Forger, he uses the polite 敬語 (keigo) speech, which is basically comprised of using the -ます (-masu) conjugation for verbs and the "to be" verb です (desu). He also uses the pronoun ボク or 僕 (boku), which is the standard male pronoun and more polite than "ore." He uses keigo to address pretty much everyone who doesn't know his true identity. When talking to a higher-up like Sylvia, he'll still use "ore" but will use polite speech instead of casual speech.

Anya is an exception to this: with her, he uses his most casual speech, the same as he uses with Franky.

I discussed a bit about this in part 24 of my Twiyor analysis posts, but this could be because Anya is a little kid, so he doesn't feel the need to put on any airs with her (same with Bond, whom he also uses casual speech with).

An interesting side note is that, as a child, Twilight used the pronoun "boku" but then changed to "ore" as soon as he became an adult/soldier.

Another aspect of keigo, besides using the more polite forms of pronouns and verb conjugations, is putting the honorific さん (san) after people's names. Twilight does this all the time with Yor, as she does with him. However, he switches to casual speech and drops the "san" part in her name when addressing her in front of people who (supposedly) believe they're a real married couple, such as Yuri and Fiona – because it would be weird for a real couple who have been married for a year to address each other in such a formal way, especially the husband. In the below panel when Fiona visits them, he's calling her "Yor" instead of "Yor-san" and using casual speech instead of keigo.

Oddly in these situations, while he uses just "Yor" when addressing her directly, he still calls her "Yor-san" when talking about her. During Yuri's first visit for example, he calls her "Yor-san" when telling Yuri how much Anya loves her (talking to someone about her) but then calls her just "Yor" a few moments later when telling her that he'll clean up the spill (talking to her directly). It's strange to me that he wouldn't just consistently use "Yor" whether he's talking to her or about her in these situations...I'm honestly not sure if he does this intentionally or if he just slips up since he's so used to using "Yor-san" in her presence.

*UPDATE* Thank you to @dentedintheworld-blog for enlightening me with the below reply about this!

"In Japanese, when speaking to your spouse's family about your spouse, you address her/him by attaching "san" her/his name out of respect for her/his family. This is also to show her/his family that you respect your spouse. That's why Loid calls Yor with san when he talks about how much he loves Yor to Yuri."

That definitely makes sense for why Twilight switches between "Yor" and "Yor-san" in these situations.

Regardless, this is why the scene in chapter 86 is so significant – when Yor isn't present, there's no reason for him to refer to her as "Yor-san," especially in front of a fellow spy like Fiona who knows he (supposedly) shouldn't have any feelings for her. Yet, even after he just called Yuri by his full name "Yuri Briar" a moment before, he doesn't do the same for Yor and continues to call her "Yor-san" here, much to Fiona's dismay.

In the same chapter, it's also significant that he uses "ore" when addressing Yor directly in his thoughts. Even though he's not speaking out loud, I believe this is the first time he's speaking directly "to" her as Twilight and/or his true self and not as Loid Forger.

But despite all this, I think that both Loid Forger and Twilight are tatemae…they're both masks to hide the person he truly is. The person who fondly talked about his mother to Yor on the park bench, the person who genuinely expressed gratitude for her sacrifice when leaving the resort island, the person who refused to kill Yuri in a life-or-death struggle because he knew it would hurt her…that's his actual honne. But of course, the ongoing conflict of the series is that he has yet to realize this. He won't even show his honne to his closest friend, Franky. Seems like it mostly comes out in dribs and drabs during his interactions with Yor...no surprise there, lol. The man is certainly a work in progress. When he finally starts letting his "honne" show, I'm curious what form of speech he'll adopt.

-----

Continue to Part 2 ->

[cherrifire]

Please share your thoughts on the other 5 cutie marks, I'd love to hear!

Hi everypony! I got like 20 asks for the Dogwarts cutie mark lore so I'm here to speak my truth!

Before we start, I would like to write a quick reminder that a pony's cutie mark is not always their "special talent", but can also represent who they are, their personalities, and a possible destiny. Different cutie marks have different meanings and interpretations, but they're not just about representing what you're good at.

That being said, let's start with the cutie mark design I'm proudest of!

Ren's Cutie Mark

Ren's cutie mark is of a sunrise and looks pretty simple at first glance but there was a lot of thought that went into this one.

First of all, I bet you're wondering why a sunrise? Well, in the show, it is pretty typical for unicorns with great magical abilities to have one relating to space (examples being Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, and Sunburst). And I figured since I wanted Ren to fall into a similar position of potentially becoming an alicorn, I gave him a cutie mark following the same trend. And I chose a sunrise to reflect the way Ren seems to glow when he enters a room. The way he carries himself is very warm and bright it just catches your eye in a similar way the sun would.

Also, Ren wears sunglasses. So a sun-themed cutie mark seemed appropriate.

Additionally, there are a couple of smaller details I want to point out too. Like the sun rays, if you look at them for a moment you'll see they're shaped like little crowns! I of course had to put a crown in thanks to how much Ren likes to play royalty, so I snuck it in there. And then the red spots underneath could both be interpreted as the sun reflected over water or blood. (But of course, this is a kid show AU so there wouldn't be any blood in Ren's destiny, just a fun reference to the red king and his whole thing about blood dyeing the snow red)

Martyn's Cutie Mark

I explained this one in an earlier ask but I thought I'd explain it again here for anyone who didn't see it!

Martyn's cutie mark is of a chopped log and a small stick.

This one is mostly a play on the name "Littlewood" but has other meanings too. As a character, Martyn tends to travel and explore quite a bit. In the Life Series specifically, he is usually the last one to find a permanent base and even then doesn't spend a lot of time in one place. Always on the move. Additionally, he's more of a wild card compared to other characters, always trying to be as unpredictable as possible.

The smaller detail here is the little swirl on top of the log is the same as the one on his Minecraft skin's shirt.

BigB's Cutie Mark

Cookies! Cookies! Cookies! BigB's cutie mark is of 3 cookies where one is trying to eat the others. There are also a few sprinkles there made to look like action lines.

We all know BigB loves cookies so of course I had to give him a cutie mark with cookies in it. For this one, I decided to follow the cutie mark trend of "symbol/item important to the pony duplicated 3 times" (examples being Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie) but I added a bit more creativity to it with the top on trying to eat the others to represent just how tasty they are 😋

Additionally, rather than the first cookie trying to eat the others, you could interpret it as opening its mouth to talk. Because BigB can not keep a secret to save his life! In Double Life when he started "secret soulmates" with Grian, he didn't last a day without opening his mouth. He told Ren about it immediately because he felt bad for keeping things from him.

Also worth quickly mentioning: People pointed out in my original post that they don't think BigB would be the element of honesty because of his behaviour in Secret Life. But that's just Secret Life. I think Secret Life to BigB was like that episode of My Little Pony where Discord makes the main 6 act the opposite of their true element. BigB was just going through a weird phase of telling very obvious lies because a book told him to.

Skizz's Cutie Mark

Skizz's cutie mark is of a lightning bolt from a couple storm clouds hitting the ground.

I think this is the cutie mark with the least thought put into it, unfortunately. There was still though just not as much as the others. The big thing I thought was fun was I made the lightning bolt shaped like an "S" to stand for Skizzleman. But other than that, this cutie mark sort of has the same meaning as Rainbow Dash's cutie mark. Quick like lightning, loud, bold, dangerous, and powerful.

Impulse's Cutie Mark

Impulse's cutie mark is of a lit-up lightbulb.

I absolutely crowded this cutie mark with the letter i. If you look closely, there are 6 of them. Impulse's design also has an i-shaped pattern on the belly if you look closely enough. But that's more of a fun easter egg and doesn't exactly reflect Impulse as a character.

There are a couple of reasons I chose a lightbulb for Impulse, the first and probably most obvious is that he's a redstone guy! He's a technical guy who likes to work smarter, not harder. So I figured the My Little Pony equivalent would be a light bulb/electricity. The second reason for the lightbulb is that it's usually used as a visual representation when characters have that "eureka!" moment in cartoons. When someone has a brilliant idea a little lightbulb turns on above their head. So since Impulse is the ideas guy, I figured a lightbulb would work for his cutie mark.

Etho's Cutie Mark

Etho's cutie mark is of a snowflake with a missing branch.

I promise there is more to this cutie mark than just "Canada is cold" even if that's part of the reason I wanted to give him a winter-themed cutie mark. While it is fun to make a nod to Etho being Canadian, I thought a winter-themed cutie mark would be fun to represent how he sometimes presents himself. Cold and a bit mysterious. I think deep down once you get to know him, those attributes melt away, but for people who have never met him, he may be intimidating that way.

I'll be honest, I don't watch a lot of Etho content, but I do have a few friends who identify as Etho girlies so I did my research. I was told in his Minecraft Let's Play World, that he has a snowflake build somewhere. I believe they said it was an iron golem farm? (Please correct me if I'm wrong) but I thought that was perfect for the cutie mark. And if you're wondering why there's a branch missing, it's because one of my friends said he was incapable of finishing builds sometimes so I thought that would be fun to include.

-=+=-

Alright. Rant over. To celebrate, here are a few pony doodles so I can put this post in my art tag.

[ordinaryschmuck]

I love that The Ghost and Molly McGee's forced cancellation isn't just frustrating to fans of the show but to people in the animation industry as well. They're just as sick as we are about how much studios disrespect animation. They keep looking for the next Spongebob, Simspons, or goodness forbid Family Guy, but instead having faith in the creators and their content, they just...wait. They wait to make a profit and do the bare minimum to market their shows and make them available.

Let's look at Gravity Falls for example. I remember that when Gravity Falls was still airing, you would be able to find out a new episode was coming out based on coming across a commercial by random chance or by the people working the show promoting it online. Add that with the fact that it was on a different channel that required you paying MORE for your cable to get it. It WAS available through Disney Channel, a channel more available at a cheaper price, but the entire of Season Two got moved to the more expensive Disney XD, where Disney shows go to die, because...REASONS. With no warning or announcement. I think I found out about Gravity Falls moving to Disney XD because the trailer played during a commercial break. And that's just the START the show's problems. Mixed in with poor marketing, the show would have a crazy inconsistent schedule, where we'd have four episodes a week, a few months of NOTHING, a few more episodes a week, nothing for a few months, a random episode playing between that nothingness with next to no promotion, and all of that happening to the rest of the show until it finally died a slow death with its series finale where four episodes got stretched out for six months. That...is NOT okay. And it doesn't stop with Gravity Falls.

Steven Universe, OK KO, Ducktales 2017, Amphibia, The Owl House, and now Ghost and Molly McGee are all shows that had similar and sometimes WORSE treatments as Gravity Falls did, where the networks gave next to NO marketing, the creators had to promote their own shows themselves, and the airing schedules were so inconsistent with wildly long hiatuses that only the most dedicated fans were willing to keep watching. General audiences (mainly kids) weren't willing to keep up with shows that had ongoing stories if the episodes stories kept being too spaced apart and never had reruns as frequent as other shows like Teen Titans Go or Big City Greens (Or whatever's constantly on network TV nowadays. I don't know. I mostly watch shit on streaming).

The people of the animation industry is catching onto all of these tricks, and they're getting sick of it. They're getting sick of inconsistent schedules. They're getting sick of trying to bend over backwards in every possible way to make the show they wanted. By either making serialized content as episodic as possible so the network could air it more or by condensing their stories as much as they can, already expecting that forced cancellation to happen sooner than later. And in some cases, they don't even get the luxury of being told their show is ending. Did you know that Inside Job and Paranormal Park both had seasons that were already in development before Netflix pulled the plug shortly after releasing new episodes of their shows? Did you know that The Ghost and Molly McGee was already working on a Season Three before Disney shut that down so they had to force out a series finale that would still be good despite the cancellation? Because it's true. It's ALWAYS true. Creators want to make MORE, but the studios won't let them because they didn't profit off of it. Except they WOULD HAVE if they treated it better.

I want kids to grow up with characters that stick around through their childhood, just like I did with mine. I want kids to have their own Ed, Edd n Eddy, Codename: Kids Next Door, Phineas and Ferb, or Kim Possible. I want kids to watch shows that last more than two-three seasons, stick around for years, and leave an impact as if they have all the time in the world because to them, it feels like they do. I want kids to have a show that ends on a high note because the creators wanted it and not because the networks demanded it. But the unfortunate thing is that it doesn't seem possible nowadays. Because if a mostly episodic show like The Ghost and Molly McGee fails, despite being charming and inoffensive and something most kids will love, the what hope IS left.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

WE NEED A SERIES ABOUT HOW SKZ ARE LIKE WHEN THEY'RE INTERESTED IN SOMEONE

i just read leeknow's version and I'm so interested! please consider making it a series 💖

Ooooooooh- okay okay!!!

This anon ask is what got the most popular views in my vote so welcome to the second post of March!!!

What a beautiful way to start the autumn season :)

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes and should not be taken seriously, this is for funsies.

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 '𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲' 𝐘𝐨𝐮?

Bang Chan:

His Libra Moon/Mercury and Scorpio Venus means you have to be friends with him for him to develop a crush on you, he might think you're pretty from the moment he sees you but he has to build a rapport and establish a good 'vibe' before he even thinks about dating you.

Chris would be more giggly and physically affectionate than usual, he'd give you more compliments than he does his other friends...might even be more teasing or playful towards you.

He honestly seems like the type of man that would ask you out over Messenger but I hope he would take the time to confess his feelings to you in person.

'So...we've been friends for a while right? And I think you know that I like you more than a friend...so would you want to be something that's more than friends?'

Lee Know:

Lee Know's Sagittarius Moon/Scorpio Mercury and Venus indicates a slow...SLOW burn type of dynamic where he could be crushing on you for MONTHS and you wouldn't even notice.

The type to scrawl through your social media but would not even utter a single confession to your face until he can't take it anymore and he has to spill.

He would prefer to make the first move so he can think of a hundred different ways of how the scenario could go, he would put effort into showing care for you and then act nonchalant about it.

Lee Know is the type to pay for your coffee every time you're together and then act like it's a gesture he'd do for anyone (which we know he wouldn't).

'You don't know I like you??? I have liked you for months now, I bought you coffee all the time, I thought I was being obvious'

Seo Changbin:

Changbin's Virgo Venus and Leo Moon with Cancer Mercury also indicates he would probably show his attraction to you in an indirect manner because Virgo Venuses love to enjoy showing their attraction to you in the most quietly 'detailed' way.

Is the type to ask you about your workout routine or your favourite places to eat, he's also the type to keep a list in his phone of things you enjoy so he can ask about them later.

'So...you mentioned how you like guys that work out right? Does that mean you would like me when I workout?'

Hwang Hyunjin:

Hyunjin's Pisces Venus/ Virgo Moon (maybe)/Aries Mars indicates a man who's a true romantic and an impulsive one at that.

His fanciness for you would manifest in him being more giggly and physically affectionate with you, maybe casually rubbing your arm or welcoming you with a squishy hug.

Eventually, he'll reach a point where he's so overwhelmed and bursting with feelings...he just HAS to reveal them to you and his confession would make you feel like a Hollywood romantic drama.

'I have to tell you something and so I'm going to say it before I can't...I like you, I REALLY like you and I can't hide it anymore.'

Lee Felix/Han Jisung:

I'm combining these two together because they share both the same Venus and Mars signs with the exception of Han being a Pisces Moon and Felix being an Aries Moon.

They both would be the nervous type and Han might even be more shy with you than he would be with his other friends whilst Felix might be more conversational and maybe even to the point of annoying with how friendly and hyper he might be.

Han would be interested in understanding what your hobbies, values and desires are.

Felix would bring you gifts, offer you suggestions for songs to listen too and try and become invested in the hobbies you're interested in.

( I am watching Law and Order: SVU and I get why people have been invested in Olivia and Elliot for 25 years because they are both fine af!!!)

They would both be nervous and in fact might give you enough hints that they are interested in you to make the first move on them.

Han: 'So...if someone said that I like you...what would you think about that?'

Felix: 'Look...I don't know how else to say this but I...I like you and I don't know what to do about it'.

Kim Seungmin:

Seungmin's Cancer Moon and Virgo Mercury indicates a forthright but gentle way of expressing his feelings for you, sure he's sassy and a bit cheeky but his confession would still be romantic.

But definitely more straightforward than the others, people who have a Virgo Mercury don't like to sugar coat anything.

'Here's your coffee order, did I get it right?...I like you- I really, really like you and I wouldn't mind taking you out- just the two of us...if it's okay with you?'

Yang Jeongin:

Jeongin and him having an Aries Venus WITH a Mercury in Aquarius??? Friends pffft what friends?

Jeongin is too impatient to form a friendship with you and he's probably the type to openly admit his feelings for you in a calm and slightly non-chalant manner- like the true fuckboi he would be.

'You like me noona, I know you do because I want you even more so what are we waiting for? I want you to be mine'

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @hipster-shiz @cherry-0420 @ja3hwa @justaaveragereader @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @wisejudgedragonhairdo @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @sensitiveandhungry @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @starillusion13 @escapetheshark @daddysspecialdollyworld @jus2passtime @shroomoth @marykpoppins @leomggg @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @leenaur

[cassandraclare]

*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.

First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.

TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.

I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.

I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)

I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.

I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.

I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.

(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)

[leclerc-s]

track two - 'cause i knew too much, there was danger

series masterlist

WINTER BREAK 2022

liked by maxverstappen1, alex_albon, logansargeant and others

ines_sainz a little winter break dump for those of you who are not thriving during the off season, like me. featuring a photo max took on my phone

view all comments

alex_albon he's going to kill you for getting a new cat.

ines_sainz he'll get over it alex_albon that's a big fat lie

user01 she spent the break in like three different places.

ines_sainz we broke into seb's home. we're having withdrawals user02 she's so real for that

user03 she's acting as if she isn't getting slandered in the spanish media right now.

user04 if it's not true she shouldn't care user05 knowing the sainz family, her excluded, they're probably lying

fernandoalo_oficial nano is a very good cat.

ines_sainz [redacted] would argue otherwise because he hid his left shoe from him yesterday.

maxverstappen1 YOU SAID YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO POST THAT PICTURE!

ines_sainz AND YOU SAID HE WAS NEVER GOING TO FIND OUT ABOUT 2017!

logansargeant i can't wait to meet the new kitty.

ines_sainz and honey can't wait to meet you!

patriciooward i'm committing crimes for your kitty

ines_sainz i would too o'ward, you're not special

user06 your honor, i love her.

georgerussell63 there is not a single thought behind that kitty's eyes. seems like it's father.

ines_sainz you are so lucky he can't comment on here. your ass is cooked in the group chat user07 this is all the confirmation i needed to know that they are gossip girls

ines_sainz posted new stories

not a single thoughts behind those eyes, she takes after her father. babysitting my favorite munchkin 🥰💞 pasta night, but only one of us is allowed to cook without supervision (hint, it's not me who needs supervision)

oscarpiastri replied to your story

oscarpiastri i can't tell if you're insulting me or charles ines_sainz it's actually both of you, you've both got that thousand mile stare down. oscarpiastri i actually hate you right now. ines_sainz love you too amor!

maxverstappen1 replied to your story

maxverstappen1 thanks again for watching her ines_sainz of course! she's a sweet kid, i'll gladly watch her again!

fernandoalo_oficial replied to your story

fernandoalo_oficial los tres ocupan supervisión. [the three of you need supervision] ines_sainz no es cierto! charles ocupa supervision, ocasionalmente oscar, pero yo nunca! [that's not true! charles needs supervision, occasionally oscar, put never me!] ines_sainz yo aprendí a cocinar desde pequeña! [i learned how to cook since i was a kid!] fernandoalo_oficial 🤓☝️ ines_sainz who taught you that?!

jensonbutton replied to your story

jensonbutton so now that you're not racing, you're babysitting? ines_sainz excuse me while i go scream in a pillow ines_sainz THE jenson button knows who I am?? jensonbutton kid, i've known you since 2015 when you used to barge into fernando's garage. i've also got a proposal for you. ines_sainz fire away mr. button, but yes, i'll babysit your kids if you ever need me too. i babysit fernando (please don't tell him i said that)

BAHRAIN 2023

liked by arthur_leclerc, theopouchaire21, liamlawson30 and others

ines_sainz once i fix me, they're gonna miss me (but i won't miss them)

view all comments

liamlawson30 how could you possibly go karting without me? do our years of friendship mean nothing to you?

theopouchaire21 OR ME? fredrickvestiofficial OR ME? logansargeant OR ME? arthur_leclerc OR ME? ines_sainz damn, it's almost like you guys miss me or something. liamlawson30 nevermind, go back to rotting with your boyfriend.

maxverstappen1 what's there to fix? you're great the way you are?

ines_sainz aww max, that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me. maxverstappen1 he's holding me at gunpoint ines_sainz fucking liar. i know you like me bitch!

user08 I'M DYING TO KNOW WHO SHE'S DATING!! THE ANXIETY IS KILLING ME!!

user09 same here! but like she'll tell us when she's ready, she's not ready yet. user10 oh god, how i hope it's charles, just to see carlos' blood boil.

user11 SHE'S HAPPY AND IN LOVE!! REJOICE!!

georgerussell63 YOU WENT KARTING? WITHOUT US?

alex_albon gasp, do we, the twitch squad mean nothing to you? ines_sainz it was a date? logansargeant and you think we care?

user12 bro, who ever this guy is, thank you for getting her smile back.

charles_leclerc are you okay? it looks like he's eating your face off?

ines_sainz you're just jealous. your lonely ass wishes you had somebody. charles_leclerc what makes you think i'm single? ines_sainz you're bitching and moaning at 3am. i get that we're neighbors but please stop complaining.

user13 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE SHADE??

user14 RIGHT?! SHE JUST BLATANTLY SAID SHE'S DOING BETTER THAN BEFORE?! SHE NEVER NEEDED THEM!! user15 SHE NEVER NEEDED THEM THEY NEEDED HER!! comment liked by ines_sainz

user16 listen, i know she isn't talking to carlos, we're all aware of this, but one would think he would use the comments to annoy her

user17 no cause i was wondering, why isn't carlos being a nuisance in her comments? ines_sainz other than the fact that our mother doesn't want him to make a 🤡 of the family name. i blocked him 💀. i don't need that negativity in my instagram comments user16 ICON!!! user18 it's too late to not make a 🤡 of the family name. no one takes them seriously anymore. they did this shit all on their own. ines_sainz amen to that sister

ines_sainz posted new stories

first day on the job, kinda nervous (jokes, not really) i've only waited since qatar 2021 to see father back on the podium couldn't be prouder of this silly old man 💚

JEDDAH 2023

¡taglist!

@minmira95 @lesliiieeeee @vroomvroommuppett @prongsvault @justtprachisblog @scuderiadevils @cataf1 @chezmardybum @formulaal @lilsiz @norstappenvibes @ironspdy @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica @niniluvsainz @matchaverse @fakeikeastore @theseus-jpg @six-call @81folklore @emppusofi @luvsforme @nichmeddar @loloekie @luvpedro @donttouchthegnote @nothaqks @inferiusreggie @mochimommy2002 @rach3164 @clove08 @clove0 @lillysbigwilly @landonorizzz @jenxjar @blupblupfish @thereadinggremlin05 @meowiarty @magical-spit @camdensreg @laneyspaulding19 @ocyeanicc @yelenasloverrrrr @percervall @blushmimi @spilled-coffee-cup @moldyshorts1997 @michelleyw81

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 @books-thingys-andstuff @nothanqks @yeanoskrrt @ale-522 @aandreea_2005 @Katness1 @mgmoore @Scott-McCall-could-lift-mjolnir @Greantii @xxx-betty @ietss @ririyulife

¡leclerc-s speaks!

violence is always the answer with this friend group. i won't be talking about every single race of the season 2023 season because that's just boring. we all know how the season ended anyways 💀 know the inés as a reporter was only done to terrorize d*nica, it's not permanent, i have plans. jenson and inés are about to form the hate d*nica club.

¡disclaimer!

this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[pricegouge]

Haul

Part Five MDNI

Master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

chapter cw: noncon oral. unsafe sex

You keep track of your passing dark periods - the closest approximation you have to a night time - in cards taken out of your deck, carefully collecting in the second drawer. The cards pass in relatively undisturbed silence and while one would expect such a display of mercy to appease you, it only manages to twist your stomach into tighter knots.

Without the blessing of exhaustion, sleep is hard to come by in the basement. It's more than the odd hum of the venting that runs through the corner, or the creaking of the beams overhead. More even than the condensation that collects, cold and clammy, on the walls around you and makes your joints ache. You think mostly it's the way your circadian rhythm has been disrupted, reduced now to the on and off hours of the dim, incandescent bulb. You learned on your second night there that they control it from above somehow, subject you to darkness or light whenever they wish. As far as you can tell, they're mostly keeping a schedule, but you're not too stupid to know a threat when you see one. They can plunge you into days of darkness any time they wish. It gives the darkness that enshrouds you now an edge, the possibility that they may never turn the light back on lingering every time you open your eyes to try and find a more comfortable position, only to find it makes no difference. They could Cask of Amontillado you down here and you likely wouldn't even realize for a full day.

There's a schedule now - a wake up call when the sun is still low in the sky followed closely by your bland breakfast, odd hours spent alone until one of them, usually Simon, retrieves you for a restroom break around noon. You don't get lunch, but Johnny sneaks you a little serving of applesauce on the second day and it's good despite having to pay for it with a kiss. He still makes you sick to look at, though he seems oblivious to your plight. Simon, on the other hand, barely looks at you. Stoic, menacing. You briefly wonder if he feels guilty and try to break past his defenses by joking with him as he escorts you to and from your room, or asking him for advice like he'd seemed amenable to giving that first night. You give up when he just continues to stare right past you.

You keep track of your passing dark periods - the closest approximation you have to a night time - in cards taken out of your deck, carefully collecting in the second drawer. The cards pass in relatively undisturbed silence and while one would expect such a display of mercy to appease you, it only manages to twist your stomach into tighter knots.

True to his word, Gaz had told the boys your mouth was off limits until further notice while they'd all gathered around their little table for dinner that first evening. You'd tried not to watch their reactions too closely, wanting to feign indifference just to bother them, but there was no ignoring Simon's blase nod of acceptance, or Johny's annoyed huff. Especially when John expanded on Kyle's rules unexpectedly, settling his hands on your shoulders as he leaned over you to inform them all you'd be off limits entirely for a week while you 'settled in.'

At the time, it had been hard to keep your relief in check, not wanting to seem too eager lest John rescind his offer just to be cruel. But when Johnny forms a habit of sneaking into your room at night you wonder what good that offer was at all anyway, if John even has as much control over these men as he thinks he does.

The first time it happened had you sitting up almost excitedly after immeasurable hours of darkness when the door creaked open and a small circle of artificial light spilled into your room. A flashlight, you'd noted, your fear that they'd plunge you into darkness forever placated for a few more hours at least. Deep down, you knew there would be no help on the other side of that door, but it was a hard thing to get past, the human inclination for hope and survival. But then a thick brogue asking if you were awake doused you in fear like a bucket of cold water. You hadn't had much time with Soap since he nearly flayed your skin off with the hose for which you'd been extremely grateful, but it seemed your luck was coming to an end on that front. Perhaps on every front, all told. 

He's not supposed to be there, but he only ever wants to hold you close and fend off the cold so you let him, happy when he's gone in the morning before even John can come knocking. Feverishly warm and pleasantly solid, with a thick pelt that rubs almost pleasantly under your good cheek when you lean into him, he'd make for a good bed fellow in different conditions. If it were anyone but him, the man you saw drag your friend's corpse around with a crowbar. But it's not, and you find no comfort in the man's arms, often laying awake well into the early hours of the morning.

But if you can set your cards by Soap's visit, it's John's daily appointments that you look forward to most, despite yourself. His arrival brings the light and the little traditions that make you feel human, like dressing properly and bathing and eating. Still, he's worse than Johnny, somehow, in that he actually expects you to indulge him, whereas Johnny is simply content to let you cry about your position. It's odd, but you get the feeling that John at least makes an attempt to please you, most days. While the boys moped about your being off limits, John took no small measure of delight in making you earn your panties every morning - though the ways he makes you earn them take you quite by surprise. Like Gaz, the captain's a man of his word, at least. 

Captain John Price, as you've come to know him, deals in secrets just as much as sexual favors.

The first time he ducked through the door, wielding your prize in his pocket with a cocksure grin, he found you standing awkwardly by the desk, having taken a borderline defensive position with the stool blocking you from the door the second you heard someone descending the stairs. John just kept grinning as he took you in, eyes too knowing and yet completely unconcerned by the dubious weapon you've potentially found yourself. 

You thought you'd known what he wanted, which was why you were so shocked when he'd stopped you from stripping for him with a firm but gentle hand on your good shoulder. "No need for all that, doll," he'd rumbled, "just come sit with me, let's talk."

Nearly a full week in and you've only ever talked with him, though the quality of the secrets he wants from you are ratcheting up to a level you're not sure you can deliver on and you're terrified to know what you'll have to give him once he grows bored of your secrets.

It had started off easily enough. He'd wanted to know about your first crush, your first job, if your parents were divorced. Your first kiss was a funny story, and you'd even managed to share a laugh about it when you told him how the boy had kissed your chin, both of you too embarrassed to try again for quite awhile. John had gone so far as to share his own experience, laughing about what a little fool he'd been with a smile that bares too many teeth, sets you on edge. You're not stupid. You know what he's doing, trying to humanize himself, get your guard down. It isn't working, but when he leans in close and listens with rapt attention as you describe your first love, doesn't laugh as you recount the more awkward stages of middle school, you worry it might, if you don't get out of here soon.

He eases you into harder questions so slowly it takes you a while to notice. And perhaps they aren't harder anyway - after all, how much more invasive is the question of how you'd lost your virginity as compared to your first kiss really, when both questions were asked by your kidnapper? Still, you take notice when he gets to your friends, what Ash's last name was, how close you were with your family. You try lying, hoping if they think your family is looking for you they will turn you free to avoid the headache. But they aren't, and John doesn't, and you see the disappointment in his eyes when he clocks your lie. 

It's Gaz who ices your ass, after John belts it.

You sniffle the whole while, unable to resist clinging to him when he props himself up next to you. Kyle's been nice ever since you've learned how to be sweet to him, and it's hard to resist the comfort when he gives it freely, harder still to remember he's not one of them when he whispers to you about how best to please the captain, or how to get Soap to listen to you.

Delirious in the dark of night, you sometimes lay awake and wonder if he's your ticket out, if you can appeal to his humanity enough that he will take pity and leave your door open one day. Better yet, ferret you away in the cot of his truck and steal you across the border. You dream of drowning him in the Gulf and wake up to Soap's hands on you, coarse as sand.

***

John's happy this morning, heavy boots nearly buoyant on the stairs. It's strange how quickly one becomes attuned to the people who hold your fate in their hands. When one misstep could mean your life, you learn to read the quality of their treads in less than a mile. Only six cards in, John only ever descending that short staircase once a day, you think you've learned his in twenty yards.

The lights always come on just before he enters, from which you've inferred the switch must be just outside your door, tantalizingly close. Today is no different, though there's a marked pause after the light comes on and before John enters. You count the seconds in heart beats, your ass still throbbing with his latest displeasure. Resolutely, you decide you'll do anything to keep him happy today.

When he does duck through the door, John's gaze scans the room expectantly, eyes crinkling tightly when he finds you still laid up in bed. 

Sometimes he calls you lazy if he finds you there - as if you could do anything else, with the light still out - but other times he likes tucking in next to you, smelling the pillow where you know Johnny's scent must linger. Sometimes he asks if Johnny behaved himself; mostly, he doesn't care. Today he sits confidently on the edge of the bed, moving with that air of owning everything around him unique to men like him. When he sits, legs sprawled wide and boots heavy against the tiles, you're suddenly acutely aware of his office directly above, the medals that decorate it.

"Good morning," he drawls, and you resist the urge to flinch when his hand comes up to ghost fingers across your cheek. It's been healing well with Kyle's continued care, the swelling gone down enough it barely ever affects your vision anymore. Doesn't mean you like when they touch it and you take too long to respond.

"I said, good morning."

"Good morning," you stutter. John cocks an eyebrow at you, expectant. "Sir."

"That's better," he grins, cocky, adding to the almost boyish aura about him this morning. He lets you look him over a moment, weathering your wary stare with little more than an implacable smile, eyes just slightly too tight to be genuine. You briefly wonder if you could manage to smother him with a pillow and then decide you'd best wait until your arm is better to try any risky, highly physical escape attempts.

"Well? You gonna come sit with me?"

When his tone drops you scramble across the bed, cursing yourself. You should have known, as it's how he likes to spend most mornings. So much for keeping him pleased. 

John waits until you settle in next to him before flashing that warm, affected grin at you again. His palm is heavy when he slides it over your thigh, fingers digging into the meat above your knee with bruising strength. He rocks your leg back and forth a moment, face contemplative. When he speaks, his voice is a low rumble you haven't heard since before he'd declared you off limits. "Want you to earn your panties properly today. Can you do that, doll?"

Shit. "What would you… like?" you ask warily, back ramrod straight as you become acutely aware of everywhere he touches you: heavy hand on your knee, the long line of his thigh crowding yours, his pec against your scapula where his shoulder tucks in behind your own, allowing him to lean in close, voice deep and lethal against your ear.

"Don't wanna have to tell you what to do every minute, that's for fucking sure."

You don't want to touch him, but you want him inside you even less, and the thought of him cradling your sensitive face as he fucks your mouth makes your vision blur even to think about, so you bite your lip and grab his knee right back, fingers sliding up the seam of his cargos in the closest approximation of seduction you can manage. Your eyes are on his, seeking approval, breath shuddering out when you get it in the form of his sly grin returning.

John leans back on his free hand, his belt buckle appearing from under his small gut as he does so. You want to cut right to the chase and undo it, but when your fingers find the brass, his own ensnare yours, spreading your palm flat against his growing hardness and making you squeeze him there. 

"Take your time about it, doll," he warns, "said I wanted you to earn them, not pay for them."

It's an odd distinction, but you know what he means. John is like Kyle in some ways. There's a reason he's spent so many days just talking to you. It's… good. At least better than Soap, who openly laughs at you when you cry and beg him to leave you alone. You suppose you'd prefer they want your desire than your unwillingness, if given the choice.

So you smile at him sheepishly, though it tastes like bile on your lips; and you take your time learning the shape of him even though rubbing your hands across his cargos feels like nails on a chalkboard. John doesn't notice, or maybe doesn't mind - at least not enough to stop you, his own hand moving up to your wrist to anchor himself and keep you in place - and so you continue until his head tilts back and you deem it acceptable to try his belt again. He lets you this time, a deep sigh tightening his tummy when you get his fly unzipped and his cock swells up behind it. He seems big, and the instinct to keep working him through the fabric of his briefs is less rooted in a desire to please him properly than it is a disinterest in finding out if you're right. 

You do not need to be thinking about how he's going to tear you open with that thing one day soon right this moment.

It's hard to work him through the open placket of his pants but you manage, wedging your hand down the front until you can cup his balls. His flesh is hot even insulated by the fabric of his underwear and you take care to warm your fingers there because you know he'll be displeased if you touch him with your frozen skin. You're watching your own movements, nervous and unsure, so you don't realize he's tilted his face towards yours until your fingers wrap tentatively around the head of him and he tilts your mouth to his, licks across your lips with a hot stripe. It's gross, the strong scent of old tobacco the first thing you've been able to catch even the barest whiff of in days. You open your mouth to him anyway, bite back a grunt of disgust when he licks into your mouth, no preamble.

So much for taking your time.

Emboldened, you start to stroke him properly over his briefs, hopeful that you may be able to make this grown man cum in his pants like an overeager boy because you're desperate to not touch him directly. But John seems to finally have run out of patience, swatting your hand away briefly to hook his waistband under his balls and give himself a few strokes. He makes you watch with a heavy palm, rolls his wrist with a sense of showmanship you know without asking is meant to teach you how he likes it. You file it away between decelerating while hydroplaning and skin to skin contact working best for hypothermia: What To Do in an Emergency. How to get out alive.

"On your knees for me, doll."

The order takes you by surprise, makes you tense. You stare up at him with wide, scared eyes even as his palm pushes you to the floor. "But Kyle said -?"

"Know what Gaz said," he snarls, yanking you into position between his thick thighs. "Didn't ask for your fucking mouth, did I? Said, get on your knees."

You do not take a moment to steel yourself, too scared of what he'll do if you hesitate again. Your knees find the floor with a sharp clap, the tile cold even through your flannel pants. You can feel each grout line running a grid over your skin and you sink into it despite knowing it will hurt in just a matter of minutes. Anything to distract from the image before you.

Even with his pants wide open and his briefs rendered useless, John somehow manages to look totally composed. His face is a mask of tight control, the bare skin of his forearms where his sleeves have been rolled up flexing with his movements, even and tempered. In another light - maybe sunshine, or nice, homey lamp - you would find him confident. Handsome, even. Here, the command with which he holds himself only highlights how far you are from being done and the flip of your tummy is decidedly unpleasant.

"Touch me," John grunts, but his own hand is still wrapped around his thick cock, the other cupping his balls. Your fingers find the cuff of his pants instead, squeezing his ankle through the material of his boots and earning yourself a nod. One hand continues up, finds the bare skin of his shin and holds tight. His legs spread impossibly wider, however, when the other reemerges, the better to skirt up his leg and grope his thigh. Take measure of the dense muscle there.

You force yourself to watch when his pace quickens because you want him to cum sooner and because you know you'll want him to cum sooner in the future, too. He's uncut, something you're not overly familiar with. You sit outside yourself, watch him as if you're attending some depraved sex ed class as he strokes the foreskin over his glans, sometimes letting it swallow the tip of his thumb along with it. He leaks like a faucet, more so the faster he strokes. Thin and nearly clear - you bet it sours, tastes like his tongue. The veins of his hand bulge with his grip and you briefly wonder if you'll ever be able to satisfy him, or if he'll have to hold your hand every time just to get the pressure right. For now, you press your hands into tense muscles and let your palm wander to the crease of his hip, dig your thumb against the ticklish crest because you see how it makes the cords of his neck flex.

"Open wide, doll. Let me see that tongue."

There's no quip about doctor's orders this time, just blind obedience, eager to be done with it. Your eyes cross as you watch John's cock warily, his fingers bumping against your chin on each stroke when he shifts closer. Voice mangled and strained, he tells you to keep your eyes on him and you glance up, find his face contorted as if in pain as he grunts and groans his way through his climax, dark eyes nearly burning a hole through you.

You were wrong, it tastes worse than his spit.

"Swallow."

It makes you gag but you do anyway because John's palm clamps over your mouth when he sees you struggling, his fingers threatening to squeeze over your cheek. You're coughing and hacking when he pulls away, but you show him your tongue without being asked because he likes when you're clever, and you like when he's nice.

"Such a good dolly," John murmurs, fingers tracing your brow as if in apology. You accept it with as much gratitude as you do the panties he dangles in front of you, leaning into his touch ever so slightly as you catch your breath. Vision too blurred by the tears that gather on your lash line, dropping onto the dark lace in your hand, you don't see the way he smiles down at you, nor do you follow his movements when he levers himself off the bed. You hear his belt clicking as he redresses himself, the scuff of his boots across tile. You don't realize he isn't headed toward the door until you hear your desk drawer sliding open and you whip around to see him, wiping your tears away with an impatient brush of your hand, ignoring the flare of pain it brings.

John takes a single card from the deck at random, chuckles as he shows you the seven of diamonds before throwing it back into the other drawer without a word. 

You don't need to count the pile to know what day it is.

As he slips out the door, John tells you to expect Ghost momentarily. Normally, you'd prefer the large man's company over most of them, if only because his apathy was better than Soap's - or John's - outright cruelty, but today marks the end of your allotted adjustment period, and the fact you don't know what to expect from the large man who perhaps still had your bra hanging from his rearview made your stomach churn. The fear of it, the growing threat, even distracts you enough that you don't dwell on how John knew about your little tally system.

A/N: kind of a small one this week but i won't have a chance to write again for a few weeks i'm thinking so i wanted to get this little transitory part out, at least. sorry if it's not up to standard!

[triptuckers]

wild flowers - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Can I request a platonic Percy Jackson x Child of Demeter!Reader based off the new Disney series? Where Child of Demeter!Reader is significantly older than Percy (17/18 maybe?) and is the one to welcome him to camp instead of Luke. Reader is more gentle and understanding to Percy's questions and is in general sort of a parent figure in the camp?" Pairing:  percy jackson x demeter!reader (platonic) Summary:  you welcome the newest kid at camp half-blood Warnings:  none (omg??) Word count:  1.1K A/N: was excited when I saw the new episode will be out on Tuesday but then I looked at the time zone and it's 3 am for me so I'll still watch it on wednesday :') thanks for your request, enjoy!

you try not to look away as percy, the newest addition to camp half-blood, nearly shoots another camper. he falls to the ground due to the force of the bow.

'alright.' you say, walking over to see if percy's okay. 'so not archery.'

'I didn't mean to!' says percy, looking at the kids who had flattened themselves to the ground to avoid being shot.

'of course you didn't, they know that. can I have the bow?' you say.

percy quickly shoves the bow in your hands as well as the quiver of arrows. you hand them back to the apollo kid who was teaching him with a thanks and an apologetic smile.

'see, I suck at this.' says percy. 'I'm not good at anything.'

'hey, that's not true.' you say. 'everyone is good at something. c'mon, I'll take you to my favorite spot at camp.'

that gets his attention. 'your favorite spot?'

'yep. right this way.'

you lead him away from the archery field. you can tell he's curious. you take him to the strawberry field, where some of the satyrs and your siblings are tending to the plants.

you walk past the strawberries to a field of grass where wild flowers grow.

'it's pointless.' says percy as the two of you sit down.

you frown. 'what is?'

he gestures around. 'all of this. I'm not one of you. it's clear there's something wrong with me. none of this matters because my dad won't reveal himself, he doesn't care. my mom is gone. I suck at archery. and I can't work in the forge. I can't do anything.'

you look at him. most kids are tough on themselves when they arrive. percy isn't any different.

'at least you didn't suck as much at archery than I did.' you say. 'contrary to you, I actually did hit someone when trying out archery '

percy's eyes widen. 'you did?'

you nod. 'apollo kids had to patch them up. luckily it wasn't that bad. but still I haven't touched a bow since. and I'm also not good at sword fighting. I only carry one because it's the weapon I suck the least with.'

'what if you suck at everything?' asks percy softly.

you smile at him. 'this is all normal. we all felt like this when we came here, regardless if we could already fight or not. and look at me, I still can't fight that well. I'm a joke compared to luke and clarisse if it comes to fighting. gods, even annabeth is better than me and she's your age.'

you point ahead to the strawberry fields. 'my cabin doesn't bring forth the best fighters. and that's okay. we're good at other things.' you say.

percy looks at your siblings, sure enough, not a lot of them carry weapons. maybe you do because you're head counsellor of your cabin.

'when did you find out who your mom was?' asks percy.

you sense he's not just curious about your godly heritage. he wants to know how long it would take before his father claims him. and he already knows there are unclaimed kids.

'for me it was pretty clear. I've always loved plants. I've got an impressive garden back at home.' you say. 'demeter claimed me my second day at camp.'

'so pretty fast...'

'for some kids it's fast. for some it's slow. some kids are very certain about who their godly parent is and sometimes they're right and sometimes they're not. you can't predict it with 100% accuracy.'

'did someone guess it correctly?'

'most of the times it's the athena kids who are right about their hunches. but they're athena kids of course, very smart. also a lot of ares kids are right. and for others it's a 50/50 chance. for instance, milo. everyone was convinced he was a hephaestus kid because he really liked to blow stuff up. turns out he's an athena kid. he's just really smart about blowing stuff up.'

'I bet I'm a kid of the god or failure or something. I'm just a regular kid, I'm not special. I don't have any impressive powers. not like you.'

'you think my powers are impressive?' you chuckle. 'I'm good with plants percy. over the years I've learned how to master those. but at first all I did was accidentally make flower patches.'

percy looks at you, frowning. 'you what?'

you laugh, then point to your shoes. they look like you've worn them every day for the past five years. which you have, somehow they won't wear down.

'these were a gift from my mom. if I don't wear them, flowers grow where I walk.'

'really?'

you nod and take them off. you get up and walk a circle around percy. and indeed, flowers grow where you put your feet down on the grass. you pick one and give it to percy, then put your shoes back on.

'it's the only thing I still can't master. maybe it's not something to be mastered. I'd ask my mom but the only time I saw her was when I was out fighting for my life. wasn't really the time to ask about flowers. she didn't even give me my shoes in person, just sent them here.'

you and percy are silent as you look out over the valley. you remember your first days at camp, how scared you were. you didn't know anyone, you were told your mom was a goddess, and you could never have a moment alone because there would always be someone who could find you based on the flowers you left behind.

'everyone here has been through what you're going through now.' you say. 'maybe they didn't experience it in the same way. I mean, you did kill the minotaur. but all of them have been confused, wondered about wether they belong, if there's something wrong with them. we all found our way in the end.'

'did you feel like you didn't belong?'

'sure. but then chiron explained to me it's all because of the gods. we've got dyslexia because our brain is wired in greek. the adhd is from our need to fight. it's all in our dna. just give it time, you'll belong. any other questions?'

'what do you do when you're not at camp?'

you smile. 'try not to run into any monsters and wait for the time to go to camp again. you'll find your family here, percy, trust me. now let's see if the aphrodite can teach you anything.'

you get up and offer your hand to percy. after pulling him to his feet, you start to walk toward the aphrodite cabin.

'you know, regardless of what cabin you belong to, you can always come to me if you have any questions.' you say.

percy smiles at you. 'thanks.'

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[mustainegf]

Just..Black Album era James...maybe Kirk too..and Jason..and Lars...fuck it, gangbang- POV: you're a groupie and they're all impatient and desperate after a show

HOLYYYY I KNOW THIS REQ IS A LITTLE OLD BUT HOLY CRAP THIS IS FUFHFFMDMSMSMS

𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 ¹⁹⁹²

From the raw chords of "Master of Puppets," I was always a die-hard Metallica fan. Then, there I was in 1992, when I scored a backstage pass to see their concert, it really felt like a dream come true.

As I walked toward the venue, air pumped with anticipation,my heart pounded.

It was everything I had expected and a whole lot more. James Hetfield's screaming voice, Kirk Hammett's solos, Lars Ulrich's pounding drumming, and Jason Newsted's bass lines made for the perfect night and always did.

I clutch my backstage pass nervously, wondering what might meet me on the other side. Whisked down a series of twisting hallways until at last I came to a door, which read, in no uncertain terms, "Private." My heart pounding, the door swung open.

There stood James Hetfield himself, every bit as intense and magnetic as when he performed on stage. "Quite the sexy visitor, I see," he said, his low, rumbling voice at ease.

My heart stopped at his promiscuous comment. He stepped aside, and I nervously walked into the room. My eyes went wide as I took in the sight of the whole band all together.

"Hey, beautiful," Lars said, grinning up at me; there was a sparkle in his eyes. Kirk and Jason nodded, giving me welcoming smiles. I awes at Kirk’s teeth, far cuter in person than in the magazines.

"Hi…” I said as calmly as possible while my stomach was doing summersaults.

The atmosphere changed in a little while. There was this hint of lust in the air, some words being unsaid and crackling. James leaned backward on his chair, his eyes fixed onto mine which made my heart pulse.

I had to admit, James had always been my favourite of the bunch, like almost every other girl.

"You know, we don't do this usually," he said, his husky voice low. "But there's just something about you, baby.".

I swallowed, my heart racing. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely audible as I looked away.

Lars leaned forward, his grin wide. "We want you," he said simply. "All of us."

My breath caught at the implications of his words. I looked from one to another of the four of them, and in their eyes, I saw their hunger, all coming to life in different ways.

To conceive of being with all of them, these metal legends that I had loved for years, ALL AT ONCE?

"Are you cool with that?" Jason asked, his voice soft, so comfortingly Jason Newsted.

I took a deep breath, and my mind was working at full speed.

“Yes… I want this,” I begged softly, my little confidence crumbling.

James got up and crossed the room, standing in front of me. He gently reached out and cupped my face in his hand. "Good," he said in a low voice. "Because we want you too.”

His lips burned against mine, and I instantly melted into his arms as my body glowed hot with his touch. His hands stroked down my sides as he pulled me closer with a deepening kiss.

Behind, the others moved, and then hands were on my shoulders, turning me slightly as Lars and his eyes burned with lust, his mouth fierce on my neck. His kiss was more aggressive, demanding, than James', but no less thrilling.

Kirk and Jason joined him, hands and lips roughly exploring my body, their hunger leaving me breathless.

Jason worked my tank top off, along with my bra, worshipping my breasts alongside James. Kirk seemed to be in his own world, gently caressing my thighs.

They led me to the nearby couch, and I sank down onto it. Clothes were quickly shed, and soon I was surrounded, hands and mouths working in combination to drive me wild.

Jason left loving bruises along my collar bone. Lars worked his dick as he watched. Kirk tweaked with my nipples, smiling at me with those cute shark teeth.

I grazed my hand over his soft cheek, kissing him as he gave his attention to my boobs.

James took control, standing between my legs while the others toyed with me. His fingers slid down to tease around my entrance.

"You're so wet," he muttered beneath his breath, his voice rough. "Do you want this, huh baby?"

"Yes," I gasped, arching into his touch. "Please, James.”

He didn't need any more of an invitation. He slipped into me, his gaze still locked with mine as he seated himself fully inside of me. It was too much, and I cried out, my fingers digging into Kirk’s shoulders, earning a smirk from him as he kissed my cheek.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, and then began to move. His thrusts were careful, each one racking waves of pleasure through me.

As James set the rhythm, Lars moved in front of me, teasing the tip of his dick on my lips. "You like this, don't you?" he growled to me. "Being fucked by all of us."

"Yes," I moaned, my body responding to the dual sensations. “Yes, L-Lars..” I managed to stammer, whilst paying licks to his length.

The next thing I knew, Kirk and Jason were taking turns kissing me, switching between my boobs and lips and their hands exploring my body, touching places and adding to the unbelievable pleasure.

James picked up his pace where his thrusts became harder, more urgent now. "I'm goin' to cum," he hissed, eyes locked in with mine. "Do you want me to cum inside you?"

"Yes," I gasped.

A final, mighty thrust and he groaned. His release caused mine. I cried out, shaking with the feeling of the James Hetfield’s cum inside me.

James pulled out as Lars took his place. His dick sank into me in one quick thrust. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he groaned. His hands had gripped my hips now, and he had started to move.

"I'm close," he grunted, his movements quickening even further. "I'm going to cum."

"Yes, Lars, give it to me," I moaned, my body tightening around him.

He came with one last deep thrust, filling me with his warmth.

Next, it was Kirk's turn, and his touch was feather-light as he entered me. The movements were slow, gentle, his eyes locked into mine as he made love to me. So intoxicatingly contrasted was the gentleness of his bridled passion to the rougher, more urgent thrusts of James and Lars.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice so soft and reverent. "So perfect.”

Kirk smiled as he took hold of my ankle, kissing up my calf while he fucked me slowly.

I arched into him, meeting his slow, deep thrusts. I watched as his gorgeous black curls bounced, so much love poured into every snap of his hips.

"Gonna cum…” he whispered, his eyes all dark and burning with desire. "You ready?

"Mhmm," I gasped, anticipation building.

With one final, long push, he came, his release bringing on my own. I cried out, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm. James shushed me with his lips.

Finally, it was Jason's turn. With a single, powerful thrust, he entered me. His movements were urgent and demanding, he was clearly worked up from being last in line to get his hands on me.

"You like this, don't you?" he growled, his eyes dark with lust. "Being used by all of us."

"Yes, yes Jason…," I moaned, feeling the pleasure overtake me.

"I'm close," he grunted, his movements growing jerky. "I'm going to cum."

"Yes, Jase…” I whispered, tightening my body around him.

A final, deep thrust from him and he came, filling me with his warmth.

It was right now I realized I had just been pumped full of cum by the whole band. I wonder how many girls could say they had been filled with their mixed fluids.

My body ached, my nipples sore from their relentless mouths, my pussy pulsing and dripping with their cum, my legs practically jelly from all the shaking.

With a tender kiss on the temple from Kirk, I knew this was worth it.

[burst-of-iridescent]

thoughts on the atla live action trailer:

looks like we're definitely getting more of the air nomad genocide. i'm hoping this means more flashbacks and development of the air nomads in general, but it definitely sets the tone for the series if this is what they're starting out with

azula shooting an arrow?? she doesn't seem to be wearing eyeliner and lipstick like in the promo shots, so i'm guessing it's a younger azula. i'm interested to see where this is going

aang crashing into the rock like in the opening credits <3 i'm glad they seem to be keeping some of the silliness and humour of the original

the actors for the main four are crushing it so far, but gordon cormier as aang is absolutely the standout for me. the scene where he has tears in his eyes while talking about how he can't save the world... that's my son, that's my boy etc

katara and aang laughing at sokka, aang running to hug the water tribe sibs!! they got the dynamic DOWN

i know there's like 2 seconds of the blue spirit and aang working together but. i'm obsessed

"i'm the avatar and i'm going to save the world... with my friends" tears. full tears

bumi! jun! jet! slightly disappointed we didn't get a cabbage man appearance yet but they're probably saving that for the show. the minor characters all look stellar so far

katara and zuko's fight at the north pole do you hear me screaming

i really like the way aang's tattoos light up when he enters the avatar state

the bending looks surprisingly good so far. i love how fluid the water and firebending in particular seem. could this be the redemption we deserve for [gestures at movie that doesn't exist]?

the settings look amazing. omashu especially is beautiful

i'm more curious than ever what it was about the show that bryke had to walk away from because of "creative differences". everything we've seen so far seems really promising and true to the original.

still keeping my expectations low because trailers can be misleading but i'm cautiously hopeful <3

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 6

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (not explicit in this part, but reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), explicit language, anxiety, negative self-talk. They're both having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Finally back with this one! And it's the penultimate chapter!! We're so close to the happy ending, you guys!!

Huge thanks to @bigtreefest and @stargazingfangirl18 who talked me through this when I was struggling with the last scene.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screaming at me. 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You were lounging right next to your pool, dragging your fingertips through the water. It was the last day before you flew to New York to start the publicity tour for the last movie you had in the hopper. It had been made very clear that you needed to have your next project figured out and signed by the time this tour was done. Right now, you were supposed to be reading a script Wilford had sent over, but you hadn’t even opened it yet. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Curtis had asked you the night before. Did you even like acting? You were embarrassed, still, that you hadn’t had an answer for him. You’d started doing it so young, it had always just been what you did. Liking it or not had never been part of the equation. And if you were good at it, shouldn’t you like it? Didn’t those things go hand in hand? You were less sure of that now.

Last night had been eye-opening in many ways. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a night where you felt so much like yourself. None of the performance, none of the image. Just you. You’d been a little worried that the performance was all that was left of you. It was nice to see that that wasn’t true.

And then there was Curtis. Fuck, he was beautiful. On the outside, obviously, but inside – it sounded so dumb, but he had such a beautiful soul. You groaned at yourself internally. Very, very dumb. But seeing him in his house, with Edgar, in his kitchen, in his bedroom on his knees in front of you? Shit, he may have been the most beautiful person that had ever lived. And you were maybe in love with him.

Fuck. It’d hit you last night, during dinner. You’d looked over at him, sitting across from you, blushing as he watched you eat the food he’d made and it’d just popped into your head – I love this man. You didn’t think that’d ever happened to you before. So of course you’d dragged him into his bedroom. But even that was different. You weren’t used to sex not being the point of the whole thing. But Curtis made you feel like it was just one of a thousand things he wanted to do with you. That it was just one of the worthwhile things about you. It was overwhelming. He was so overwhelming.

And so, that thought. I love him I love him I love him just on a loop in your head since it’d first entered your mind. You grabbed your phone next to you and typed out and sent the message quickly before you could think better of it. 

I think I might be in love.

The reply from Marnie was immediate. 

That’s exciting, isn’t it?

You bit your lip as you answered.

I guess. I mean, yeah, it is. It’s really great! But he’s not in the industry, not really, and I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before and so much could go wrong.

There was no pause before you had her answer.

Don’t borrow trouble, sweetheart. It’s ok to just let yourself be happy now.

You stared at her message. Be happy now. Before you could figure out what to even do with that, another text came through.

Is he good to you?

You smiled automatically.

He is. He’s so good to me. The best.

I’m happy for you.

And you knew she was. She was one of the only friends you’d ever had whose motivations you never questioned, compliments you never doubted. She just wanted good things for you. Because she liked you. That was it. Between Marnie and Curtis, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt so well-liked before. It was nice, to have multiple people who genuinely cared about you. 

You typed out a quick thank you and then checked the time and smiled to yourself before making your way back inside. Sure enough, Curtis was there, settled on a couch in the living room.

You lowered yourself onto the couch next to him, on top of him, really. You both cut a wary glance toward the kitchen but Michelle was engrossed in her computer at the kitchen island, answering emails, and managing your schedule. Jensen was out doing something with the car. There was no one else around, no one paying attention. “Hi,” you whispered softly, right in his ear.

“Hi,” he whispered back and smiled, that private one that was only for you. He wrapped his arm around you and twined his fingers through yours. You rested your head on his shoulder and hummed contentedly. You both just rested there, taking a quiet moment together before the day got busy and you’d have to pretend that you hadn’t woken up next to him, able to watch the sun rise on his face.

The quiet calm was punctured when, from the kitchen, you heard Michelle’s phone blow up and a moment later she cried out “What the actual fuck?!”

Your phone quickly followed suit and, most worryingly, so did Curtis’s. You both scrambled to check what on earth was going on as Michelle marched into the living room. As soon as she’d rounded the couch, she yelled at Curtis, “Are you seriously fucking her?!”

You stared at her, your eyes round. “What?” you gasped. You stood up, trying to put some distance between all of you as you opened your phone. The notifications were still pinging. Multiple calls coming in at once, texts, Twitter, Instagram. You opened Twitter and tried to find the root of everything. And there it was, on TMZ a zoomed-in shot of you and Curtis on the corner by his house. His hands were on your waist, you were leaning in for a kiss, a happy smile on your face. Whoever took it had gotten both your faces. It was obviously the two of you, clear as day. “No, no, no,” you started to chant. 

Curtis was in front of you in an instant.  “It’s gonna be ok,” he said, just to you, and grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

Michelle was still standing at the end of the couch, freaking out. She was focused on Curtis, mostly ignoring you. “This is a complete disaster!” she yelled. “I’d expect this from her,” she said throwing a hand in your direction without actually looking at you, “but I never thought you’d do something this monumentally stupid, Curtis!”

“Hey!” You yelled, finally getting her attention. “This isn’t his fault, ok? Leave him alone.”

She stared at you, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out, before her phone rang insistently. She glanced at it and grimaced. “Tanya,” she said, accusingly, “Of course! I have to go fucking deal with this.”  

Curtis stayed where he was and silently rubbed your back as you scrolled through Twitter. This was so, so bad. People had immediately started speculating about who you were with in the picture and it hadn’t taken long for someone to link to pictures of you with Curtis in the background. They’d have his name soon, if they didn’t already. And then the hounding would start. He was never going to forgive you for this. You’d never forgive yourself. 

You were pulled out of your spiral by his hand on your cheek. “Hey,” he said lowly, looking you right in the eye. “Stop. It’s going to be okay.”

You shook your head. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what it’s gonna be like.”

“Neither do you,” he said with so much confidence you almost believed him. He must have seen at least part of what you were worried about because his next words were “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

You wanted to be reassured, but you knew that he didn’t really understand, couldn’t understand, all of the things that were going to happen now. And he was going to hate you for it.

His phone rang again, still, and when he checked it, he grimaced. You did too when you saw your manager, Lloyd’s name, on the screen. He answered the call as he stepped away from you, trailing a gentle hand down your arm as he went. 

You watched him carefully. His expression was serious, but he didn’t raise his voice at all. Just nodded several times and gave short answers that were low enough you couldn’t hear them. With one final nod, he hung up and came back to you.

“I’m being called in,” he said quietly. He looked up and you followed his gaze to find Michelle standing in the transition space to the kitchen. “Yeah,” he sighed, “looks like you are too. All hands on deck.”

Curtis drove separately on his motorcycle. You tried not to read too much into it for his current state of mind. 

He rejoined you as you and your entire team were ushered into a conference room. You knew it was bad when no one moved to sit. Curtis came up and stood behind you, pressing himself into your back with a soft hand on your hip. You exhaled at the contact and leaned your head against him. 

Lloyd spoke first, narrowing his eyes at the two of you. “I take it from this display there was no coercion involved in this mess?”

You looked down at the implication you could have used your power or influence against Curtis, ashamed even though you knew that wasn’t the case. You opened your mouth to try to defend yourself when Curtis just growled out, “No. Definitely not.”

Lloyd gave a grim smile. “Perfect,” he said. “Then you’re fired. Obviously.”

Before you could even process what was happening, Curtis’s hand tightened on your hip. His voice was strong and clear when he said, “Yes, of course.” 

Your head whipped back and forth between Curtis and Lloyd. “What? No!” you cried. “Not obviously! Not of course! He’s my bodyguard. This should be my decision!”

“No, actually,” Lloyd said. “He works for me, not you, so I’m the one who decides what we do with him. Thank god, since you’ve shown such a shocking lack of judgment here.” 

Your head drooped in shame as Curtis’s other hand came up to hold you on both sides now. “Hey,” he growled. “She isn’t a child. Don’t speak to her like one.” 

“Watch it!” Lloyd took a step forward, but Curtis held steady behind you.

“Why?” Curtis asked. “I don’t work for you anymore, so fuck you and watch how you speak to her. It’s her work that pays you.”

Tanya stepped forward, putting her hands out to try to de-escalate the situation. “And it’s our hard work that keeps her employable.” She looked to you now. “You have to see what a mess this is. The day before you start a national press tour. Now this will be all anyone wants to know about. And someone who works for you. It’s not a good look and it’s going to take a lot for us all to clean it up.” She looked around the room at everyone gathered. “So we’re all going to sit down now and hammer out our strategy for the next several weeks. Media training obviously,” she said with a side-eye to Curtis, “lining up sympathetic profiles. We’ll need to figure out what’s on our ‘do not ask’ list and what we’ll have to let slip through…”

Her voice faded away as you stopped listening. You’d fucked everything up. You’d ruined Curtis’s life. Thrust him into the spotlight  Cratered your own career. Caused endless headaches for everyone around you. You could feel the tears pushing against the rims of your eyes, but you couldn’t let them fall. Not yet. You wouldn’t cry in this room with these people. “Whatever,” you said, your voice shaking. “Figure out what we need to do. You don’t need me for that. You can tell me on the fucking plane.” Without waiting for any kind of response, you stormed out of the conference room, Curtis right on your heels. 

You didn’t stop until you were in the parking lot, next to his motorcycle. The moment you stopped moving, you burst into tears. “I’m so sorry,” you gasped. “I’m so fucking sorry!”

“Hey.” Curtis’s hands gently, tentatively landed on your shoulders. “It’s going to be ok. Shh, it’s alright.”

“I got you fired!”

“Hey, I got me fired, ok? I made this choice too, knowing full well what the consequences would be. I–” He was interrupted by his phone ringing. He ignored the call without looking but it immediately rang again. He grimaced, irritated, but his face softened into concern when he saw who it was. “Just a–” he started to you, “I have to take this.” Then he stepped away, his phone pressed to his ear. “Hold on,” you heard him say as he left. “Edgar, calm down.”

You grew more and more uneasy as you watched Curtis pace around. You could clearly tell it was bad news. Of course, it was. What else would it be today? You wondered what else you had ruined for him, how else you’d made his life worse. You didn’t have to wait long to find out, as only a few minutes later he came back to you.

“So, uh,” he began, his hand on the back of his neck, “I was going to suggest we go to my house, but it sounds like there are a bunch of paps camped out there. If we go to yours, we can at least go in the back way on my bike and avoid them.”

He couldn’t go home. Of course, they’d figured out who he was and where he lived. You knew they would. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he said, his voice firm. “This isn’t your fault. It just– It just is.” He sighed and his whole body drooped with it. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You were both quiet as you got off his bike and made your way into your house. Curtis was right behind you as you climbed the stairs to your bedroom. All the way home all you’d been able to think about was what a disaster this was and how you should’ve known it was the only way it could turn out. You should’ve expected it. You rarely got to keep nice things.

 When you got into your room, you crawled into the middle of the bed and folded into yourself. Curtis lingered by your dresser, leaning against the wall, his arms stiff at his sides, his face tight. It felt like there was an ocean between you. “Would you please just get mad at me already?” you whispered.

“What?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“I know you’re mad at me. You have to be! I deserve it. So, please, just do it. Get it over with. I can’t wait anymore.”

“I don’t want to be mad at you,” he sighed. “Today is already terrible. Don’t make me be mad at you too, on top of it all.”

 “I got you fired! And now you can’t go home! This– I–” You deflated a little, and much more quietly, said, “None of this would have happened if I were someone else. I know that it’s my fault. So if you’re going to go, just do it, already.” 

“I’m not going to go” he said, firmly. 

“Why not?” you pleaded. “Everyone else does!”

“Well, I'm not like everyone else. You know that. Stop trying to make me more like them.” He leaned his head back against the wall, and looked up at the ceiling. “I love you,” he said so softly. He moved to the foot of the bed, where he kneeled down and reached out to grasp your ankle. “All of you. Even this part. I wish you’d believe me.”

Your eyes filled with tears again and a little voice inside your head chanted tell him tell him tell him but you couldn’t get the words out, so instead you just whispered, again, “I'm sorry.”

He sighed again. He seemed so tired. “Stop apologizing, please. None of today was your fault.”

“You wanted to quit that first morning. I should have let you. But I was selfish.”

“You weren’t selfish,” he said, rubbing his thumb in a soothing circle on your skin. “You were scared. And you were right. I loved that this just got to belong to the two of us for a little while. No one else. That you just belonged to me.”

Say it say it say it, the voice chanted. Instead, you leaned over and kissed him. You tried to put everything you were feeling into the kiss. All of the things you couldn’t yet say. And you felt him tell you everything he felt about you back. It was overwhelming. 

Eventually you pulled away, but twined your fingers with his. “I wish we didn’t have to go to New York tomorrow. Wish we could just hide out here for a little while.”

He breathed your name and when you looked up at him, you were startled by the sadness in his eyes. “I’m not coming to New York with you.”

“What?” you asked, panic rising in your voice. “Why not?”

“I’m not your bodyguard anymore.”

And even though you knew—you were there when it happened—it still hit you like a ton of bricks. You had to force yourself to keep breathing. “Come anyway,” you begged.

He shook his head. “With everything that’s happened, there’s a lot for me to figure out here.”

You pulled your hand away and curled up so that your chin rested on your knees. “I don’t want to go,” you said, and even you could hear how small you sounded.

“Then don’t,” Curtis said, like anything had ever been that easy.

You let out a humorless chuckle. “I have to go.” He just scowled. “Curtis, I have obligations! You act like you’ve never had to do something you didn’t want to.”

He nodded as he stood up. “Sure, I have. Sometimes. Not all the time. Not everything I do.” 

You got up on your knees on the bed. “I can’t just not do the press tour! They won’t let me!” 

He said your name again and it sounded desperate this time. “This is your life! Aren’t you tired of letting everyone else live it for you? I know I’m tired of watching it!”

“I’m not–” you started, but Curtis couldn’t seem to stop now that he’d started.

“If you don’t want to act anymore, then quit! If you just want to take a break, then do that! The only control they have over you is what you’ve given them. Your team, your mom, your fans, the press. This is your life, not theirs. Please, take it back.” He got on the bed with you, right in front of you so that your knees touched. “I’m begging you,” he whispered, “live your life. Please.”

You just stared at him and he stared back, unflinching. You felt something crack open inside of you and you started crying in earnest now. You couldn’t stop. He envelolped you in his arms, holding you tight. Which only made you cry harder because you felt so safe there. 

Everything always seemed so simple when he laid it out like that. But this was your life. It was the only life you’d ever known. Could it really be that easy just to take back everything you felt like you’d lost? Looking into his eyes, it seemed like maybe it could be.

Very gently he layed you down on the bed, pushing your pillow under your head and laying down right next to you. “Will you stay?” you asked. “Tonight, will you stay?”

“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

You sniffled, your eyes still wet. “Will you hold me? I just want to be close to you.”

“Always,” he said, wrapping his arms around you again. “Always.”

Your alarm went off early in the morning. As you got up Curtis started to rouse as well. You gently pushed him back into the bed. “You don’t need to get up,” you said softly. “Go back to sleep. Stay as long as you want. I’ll see you soon. I’ll miss you.”

Still half asleep, he lifted his head enough to kiss you. When you pulled away, he fell back onto his pillow and closed his eyes.

As quietly as you could, you got ready, then grabbed the bag Michelle had packed for you and went out to where Jensen had the car waiting for you. As the car drove away with you in the backseat, something about the moment felt significant in a way you didn’t really understand.

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @before-we-get-started @veltana @andydrysdalerogers @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whosana-maria @dancer3205 @ijustneedpopcorn @mrsevans90  @pekusofixus @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @jamneuromain @kmc1989 @geminiflanagansblog @stcrrjoon @blogbog710 @blackhawkfanatic @ronearoundblindly @king814318 @zaraomarrogers @steviebbboi

[underdark-dreams]

[Poll results]

A smut piece for Rolan that became a 7k word fic. I don't know what it is about him--I just need him to be happy. 🖤 For anyone else who feels the same!

In Amber

Rolan can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He only knows he wants things with her to be different. A series of encounters between Rolan and the person who is teaching his black heart how to hope.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 7,033 [Read on AO3]

The beloved hero of the Grove has saved them all from the Shadow Curse, apparently.

Word spreads fast, and it's all Rolan hears the Harpers talking about in their rush to take final leave of Last Light Inn. Nearly all had gone to Moonrise Towers with the Druid, but a small group stayed behind with Isobel in case the fight turned to the worst.

Rolan was the first one packed. With the shadows lifting, all he wants to do is travel the road to Baldur's Gate and finally reach his destiny. Leave this hollow place behind him.

At last they are finally moving in the right direction again--the three of them along with Lakrissa and Alfira, led by the Harper rangers.

He glances at Cal and Lia walking beside him. They're in the middle of chatting about the first things they want to do when they reach the lower city. Rolan can't seem to stop checking that they’re still there–as if he might look to find them gone once more.

He hasn't seen their savior since the night she brought his siblings back to him. That made twice now that she'd saved all three of their lives. Few things bristled against his nature more than owing a debt that couldn't be repaid. Rolan didn't like the feeling of being under anyone's thumb.

She wouldn't even accept a reward for saving his brother and sister's lives, just waved him away with a smile on her lips. The memory frustrated him endlessly. He couldn't understand why she took such an interest in helping him and his family. He was even beginning to consider that goodness of heart might really exist…at least when it came to hers.

Half of his mind felt tormented by her inscrutable kindness. The other half thought he'd very much like to kiss her.

Before he could brush away the alarming idea, the Harpers in front threw up a cheer. Rolan looked around to see the commotion.

She and her companions were covered in more blood than he'd seen on them yet, but they were still standing as they led their small army down the path from Moonrise Towers. 

His eyes light automatically to her face–it shines with a radiant smile, but Rolan recognizes the way her shoulders slump under her armor. He is flooded with relief. At least she's alive. 

Their groups converge on the road outside the tower. Everything is a jumble of cheers and shouts as the Harpers jostle forward to reunite with their comrades; a man he's never met claps Rolan’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

"Go on, then," says Lia beside him. She's following his gaze knowingly. "While you've got a chance."

He only manages to throw his sister a scowl before she trots away. Is it that obvious?

He decides to take her advice after all. She was right that this could very well be the final time their paths converged. Baldur's Gate was a large city, and whatever grand adventures their savior would face next, he doubted they would involve spending much time browsing magical emporiums.

She gave him a little wave as he approached, the kind one might give an old friend. It pricked his conscience. He'd thanked her for saving Cal and Lia, true, but his mind tossed up all the countless other times he'd been needlessly unpleasant toward her. 

"Seems we owe you thanks yet again," he said, hoping it came off sincere. 

She shook her head wryly. "I've never done any of it alone, you know that. Every one of these people fought like hells in there." 

Standing close, his nose was hit by the thick tang of blood that coated on her armor. How much of it was hers?

"You should go to see Isobel," Rolan insisted. He'd drag her straight to the cleric himself, if she'd let him.

"Do I look that bad?" She was teasing, but there was a strain to it. "As long as I make it to my bedroll in the next hour, I'll be fine. You're sweet to worry, though."

"Stop saying things like that," Rolan snapped, unable to contain himself. "You're so nice, and I'm just a bastard."

Her eyes widened at him, taken aback. "I don't think you're a bastard."

Rolan looked down at his hands. "That's what makes you so nice," he said. He had to get to the point. "Look…I know I haven't been the easiest person to get along with. I've been rude and awful, ever since the Grove, and you didn't deserve it. So." He straightened up properly. "I'm sorry for that."

It's far less eloquent than he'd rehearsed, but she seems to understand the sentiment.

"Don’t worry about it," she tells him. "You feel responsibility for the people you love. That can make anyone forget themselves for a while." 

"I suppose," is all he can manage to say. How well she seems to speak what's in his mind.

Her Githyanki companion approaches with a clear intention to speak with her, and Rolan turns away, not wanting to intrude on the company of her true friends.

"Rolan, wait–" 

The flutter in his stomach humiliates him. Will he ever get used to her saying his name?

She rummages in the pack at her waist. "Almost forgot. I found something–well, stole, but it doesn't matter now." 

A fist is held out to him, closed around something. 

Uncertain what to expect, Rolan offers his hand. Her fingers graze softly against his as they deposit something small and hard. He looks down at his palm.

"A rock," he says, deadpan.

"Not just any rock, it's a topaz."

Rolan blinks at her. "And…what am I supposed to do with this, exactly?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Keep it, or don't. It just made me think of you. Matches your eyes." The admission brought a flush of pink to her cheeks. 

He felt his heart skip at the sight, followed by a jolt of fear–as if she might be able to see the hope blooming inside his chest.

He turns away with a tut. "Absurd."

She gave only a satisfied laugh before taking her leave. Once she'd retreated out of sight, he tucked the gem securely into the folds of his robe.

-

Rolan has long abandoned the fantasy that he is his master's apprentice. 

Whipping boy would be a more accurate job description. Perhaps test subject. He is trapped in an impossible game that he can never win, and his highest purpose is to be the canvas where Lorroakan paints his next magical experiment. 

His mind shudders at the way the red wizard's eyes rest on him during "lessons": casually devoid of all concern or care. No matter how hard Rolan concentrates, no matter what he answers, it won't be good enough. And then the pain will follow. 

The mindless Constructs are worth far more to his master than he is. 

There was a time when someone made Rolan feel like he could deserve more, but that time is gone now. All he can hope is to learn enough, train hard enough, and one day claw his way through to something better.

Today, however, will offer the chance of a reprieve. He's been sent to deliver a message on foot across the lower city. Weeks ago he would've seen the task as an insult. Now he wonders whether it might take all morning, if he's lucky. 

If he often feels like a drowning man, these moments of escape are like a sweet gasp of air. He walks with his face tilted up to soak in the sun's warmth. 

The marks of abuse that paint his features have long stopped troubling him. An occasional passerby might stare at the bruises, but since the Absolute army's march, most Baldurians give Tieflings a wide enough berth not to notice. One wearing fine robes is no different to them.

As he passes the bridge to the Counting House, his eyes land on her figure. He stops short in surprise, earning himself a rude remark about clumsy devils from the woman behind him.

Rolan would recognize her face in any crowd. She stood on the bridge in the middle of some kind of confrontation between two women; one of them a beggar, by the state of her, the other finely dressed.

As he watches he very clearly sees her invite the rich one to "piss off", to the woman's indignation.

An affectionate chuckle escapes him. Then he winces, hand rising to the cracked skin on his lip. He tastes a drop of blood.

Swift panic grips his chest. She can't fucking see him like this, not once–more broken and pathetic than ever. Not after how many times she's already played rescuer to him. He cringes in shame at the thought.

At least she hasn't found him trapped behind his desk, there's a chance he can slip away unnoticed yet–

"Rolan?" 

He missed his moment by a hair. It's unfortunate that hearing her voice after all this time freezes him straight to the cobblestones, or he might consider dashing away like a coward.

"I thought that was you! I'd recognize those horns anywhere." 

Resigned, he turns back toward her. But he keeps his face cast down toward the pavement.

"What do you want?" He asks stiffly.

"Hello to you too," she laughs, and he stifles the impulse to watch her do so. "It's been a while. Cal and Lia, they're good?"

"Thanks to you," he concedes. No thanks to me.

"I'm glad to hear it." He watches her boots step closer, tentative. "Everything okay with you?"

She can never just leave him alone, can she. Why does she insist on caring when so many others don't bother?

"Fine, busy with my studies," Rolan deflects. "I've got to get back to the Sundries."

There's a tight pause, and then her voice grows firm. "Look at me."

He curses himself for being unable to disregard her, and for his eyes wanting to take her in despite everything. Slowly, he raises his head to meet her gaze.

Her face is somehow lovelier than he remembered. As he watches, it shatters in shock. He can see her eyes flit from mark to mark as if taking inventory.

"Who did this to you?" She whispers, aghast.

He turns away, unable to hold her gaze. "Believe me, it's nothing that can be helped."

"Rolan–" Her hand extends toward his jaw.

If the thought of her touch thrills him, the thought of being touched by her with pity is unbearable.

"I don't need your help," he spits, slapping the hand away with his own. "And I certainly don't need your damned sympathy!"

The shock and hurt on her face are the last things Rolan sees before he turns on his heel.

-

The archwizard was not pleased with his late return. That night, Rolan comes home with a large fresh bloom of purple over his left eye.

Lia's already limited patience snaps. She flies into his face with angry tears and threats that she'll march straight into Lorroakan's tower herself with shortsword in hand. Cal stands between them, pleading for peace, eyes wide and sad.

"Enough," Rolan orders them both. "Don't you see we're nothing but hellspawn refugees to these people? My position is the only thing keeping us under this roof, the only thing." 

He doesn't stop Lia as she storms out–she didn’t take her sword with her. The door rattles on its hinges as it slams behind her. He pushes wordlessly past Cal to his room, and collapses in a heap against his bed pillows.

His face aches enough that he knows sleep won’t come easy tonight. One hand reaches into the robe at his chest, and he slowly pulls out the small amber stone. His fingers turn it over and over as he closes his eyes once more to escape into imagining.

In some other world, he could've been the one powerful enough to save and protect her. Even be the person who makes her smile. 

He would not be the pathetic, broken man that he is. He could feel worthy to return her tender touches with his own, drawing her close to him instead of pushing her away. Feel her lips on his own…her hands circling his shoulders… 

Rolan rouses himself to stare down at the topaz shining in his palm. He feels his rotten heart crumple. 

He can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He doesn't like the man he is. He wants to be different–he wants things with her to be different. 

The stone grows warm in his fist as he clenches it. She crept deep into his heart a long, long time ago. He'll probably never get the chance to tell her, so he might as well admit it to himself.

And even if he did see her again–what chance did he have that she might feel the same? None. She single-handedly managed to improve every part of his life that she touched. What could he possibly offer her?

In this world, precious little.

-

Lorroakan of Ramazith lay dead on the ground. 

Rolan felt a numb hatred as he stood over his former master, eyes frozen wide in the final shock of death. Months from now the expression might have given him cause to laugh. Today, Rolan can only stare mutely.

One more sick megalomaniac who possessed more power than Rolan could have dreamed of wielding…brought down by his insane, insatiable lust for more. Always always more. For what? In the end, he was just another corpse.

It was she who dispatched him, of course. Why wouldn't it be? 

After all this time, it was perfectly inevitable that she and her friends would be the ones to fly in and deliver him from yet another tragic end. He felt like he was stuck on a wheel going around and around. He couldn't escape her, either in reality or in his own mind.

Rolan comes to himself and looks down at his robes. Blood splatters his front and soaks up to his elbows; a crust of frost coats his boots, from whose spell he can't remember. All at once an overwhelming tiredness soaks into his bones.

The dream of destiny that had carried him here…had it ever existed, really?

He decides to slip away while she's distracted, speaking urgently to one of her companions. Her plans probably extend far outside this room and beyond, but this is where his path reaches a bloody dead end.

He allows himself one last look at her profile before stepping quietly to the portal. He wants only a bath and the release of sleep.

His feet drag along the streets of the lower city as they carry his body home, ignoring any frightened stares at the state of his clothes. Silent as he can, he slips through the front door and down the hall to his room. Cal and Lia's voices carry from the kitchen. He'll face their questions when he wakes. 

In the end, exhaustion and relief overtake him. There will be no more lessons. He falls to bed in a heap and drifts off, still wearing his master's blood on his hands.

-

In retrospect: letting Lia discover him face-down in his bed covered in dried blood was not the smartest decision Rolan had ever made. 

After he'd groggily yelled himself hoarse enough to stop her screams, a sharp pang of conscience drove through him like ice. During the time he thought the two of them were lost to the Shadowlands, he wanted nothing more than to drink himself to an early death.

He never wanted either of them to feel that emptiness. For once, he let Lia hold him tight without protest.

With a few days' rest, and some of Cal's better efforts in the kitchen to date, Rolan's spirits had rallied sufficiently that he felt well enough to leave the house. Even to attempt a cautious return to his place of employment. 

To his surprise and distinct confusion, no one at Sorcerous Sundries had a thing to say about Lorroakan's disappearance, or about any possible employee involvement. 

If anything, the mood around the shop was noticeably lighter. He even caught Tolna humming a soft little tune to her bookshelves. “The tomes never respected him, you know,” she whispered to Rolan.

And once he got over the bizarre sight of Lorroakan's projection, hovering with a vacant smile behind his former desk, he found a perverse humor in it. Who was the fucking errand boy now?

Most of all, Rolan found himself free to finally do what he came to this place for: study magic. He had no archmage master, but he was intelligent, and he now had free access to all of the tomes in the tower library that Lorroakan had enjoyed dangling under his nose.

These days he preferred to spend his days alone in the upstairs, absorbed in theory and practice. His skills grew, and so did his confidence in himself.

If he also felt drawn to the spot because it was the last place he'd seen her…well, he was far too late on that score. He could've finally confessed the feelings that had long been bursting through his chest. 

Instead he had slunk away in silence, too scared to stand in front of her and admit how misguided he'd been all this time. She must think very little of him. She probably didn't think of him at all.

Who knew if she was even still in Baldur's Gate? He searched every face he encountered on the streets, hoping for an answer. It had become a reflex.

At the end of another day, he trudged alone across the twilight square. His hands ached from practicing the gestures for elemental conjurement over and over. One of the Steel Watchers clomped mindlessly past, looking about like Rolan felt. 

The thought of going home filled him with weariness. Cal and Lia's cheerful bickering always annoyed him, in an affectionate way. But tonight, he truly felt he might not be up to it. 

He felt sad. Lonely.

Glancing up, he found that his legs had carried him to the steps of the Elfsong. A drink…that would soothe his sorrows for an hour or two, at least.

The doors swung open to usher a wave of stimulation over his senses. Warm firelight, the smell of roasting venison, tables packed with conversation and clinking glasses. 

He was grateful that many others seemed to have had the same idea this particular night. It made it easier to slip through the crowded taproom unnoticed, catching meaningless slices of gossip and flirtatious banter on his way to the bar.

The surly bartender didn't look overjoyed to be serving a Tiefling. He took Rolan's gold without comment, however, and left him alone with his wine.

As the alcohol spread a welcome relaxation through his limbs, Rolan passed the time by idly watching the groups around him. 

A halfling sat alone with shoulders slumped, staring down his tankard as if he wished to drown in it. Across the way, a large bearded man was leaning across the table in open pursuit of his female companion. Clearly getting nowhere, from her expression. But he looked far too drunk to notice.

In front of the great hall fireplace, a pale elf sat in conversation with a pretty dark-haired young woman. 

Rolan's brow furrowed; he knew those two. His eyes quickly scanned over the room's faces until he found her.

She was removed a ways from her usual traveling companions, seated at a small table in the far corner. He watched her swirl the cup in her hand idly. Her eyes followed the liquid’s pattern, but the look behind them was leagues away.

For the first time in days, Rolan felt his heavy heart lift. She was exactly the person he wanted to be with tonight. Even if it was just sharing a drink.

This was it, he told himself. He had to speak with her or he'd regret it the rest of his life.

But first–he knocked back a very large mouthful.

His heart pounded in his ears as he drew closer to her. With each step he expected she might look up, piercing him with those eyes that visited most of his dreams. But she remained transfixed by the wine even when he drew up beside her table.

Improvising, he cleared his throat. "Hello."

She glanced up at him in pleasant surprise. "Oh!"

They stared at each other for an awkward silence. Then, somehow, he found himself laughing with her.

"Sorry, it's so strange. I was just thinking about you," she said, her face brightening.

The fact that he occupied any space in her brain would consume him later, but he shoved it aside for the moment.

"Mind if I join you?"

She patted the chair next to her. As he sat, he wondered if the spot had been a tactical choice on her part. Their table had a view of the whole room and both exits, yet the wall behind offered a sense of privacy. 

"You're not drinking with your friends tonight," Rolan observed.

"Just taking a little break. We're celebrating another family reunion," she explained, gesturing her glass toward the group around the blazing hearth. 

Rolan looked back over his shoulder. He recognized the one-eyed young man with curling horns, but not the older one whose hand was clasped on his shoulder. Quite clearly father and son to anyone with eyes.

"I'm glad for them," Rolan said. To his surprise, he found he truly meant it. The Absolute had ripped apart so many families in so many ways, including his, leaving the lower streets flooded with the hopeless and broken and displaced. He counted himself and his siblings incredibly lucky, and it heartened him to see another happy scene among so much misery.

“You know–” She eyed him curiously. "I was hoping I’d see you. You ran off before we could talk that day."

He looked down at his drink. "I know. I've regretted it since then. At the time, it was just…a lot to take in."

Her eyes narrowed, but not at him. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but that man can burn in Avernus for all I care. For what he did to you. For what he tried to do to Aylin."

Rolan recalled the runic circle in Lorroakan's library, the one whose mysterious power had at first awed and enthralled him. And then he'd seen the aasimar with the shining wings, and watched the demented hunger in Lorroakan's eyes, and the horrible realization had run through him like a sickness.

"Lorroakan was a monster," he agreed. "I just wish I'd seen it sooner. Or even found the strength to open my own eyes."

He felt a hand rest on his forearm.

"I saw what you went through to get here,” she said. “It’s natural that you thought you had to see it all through, no matter what.” 

Rolan said nothing for a while, just let her kindness soothe into his chest like a balm.

“On the bright side,” he added suddenly, “He did keep an excellent library. I’ve learned more from one of his books than I ever did from him.”

“That’s because you’re a proper talented wizard,” she laughed. “And he was an idiot.”

“A dead idiot.”

“To that,” she said with a lift of her cup, and they both drank. He noticed she used her free hand, not moving the one that laid on his arm.

When he caught her eye after, she was watching him with a smile. "You look so well, Rolan."

He knew what she meant. The last time she saw him, his face had been dappled in marks and bruises from Lorroakan's brutal instruction, with more that she couldn't see under his robes.

Now, the last mark across his cheekbone had faded almost to nothing. He hoped it would take the memories of the meaningless pain he'd endured along with it.

"Thank you," he said simply. "So do you."

He meant it; he realized now that he'd only ever seen her dressed for combat. Tonight she wore soft hide pants tucked into her hunting boots, a linen shirt half unlaced at her collarbones. It softened her. Close beside him and bathed in firelight, she set his heart racing again.

Perhaps it was her closeness or her touch that gave him the courage, or perhaps it was just the wine. He shifted his arm slightly to capture her hand in his.

"No one else has ever shown me the kindness you have. Not even Cal and Lia, though I do love them." 

She watched him speak in silence, and he gazed back at her, as if the answers to everything might be found in her face. 

"I don't understand you,” he said earnestly. “Why you've kept giving me chances. You've been so much more generous with me than I deserve. I've insulted you, yelled at you, I've been an absolute unbearable prick–"

Before he could think, she leaned in to silence him with her lips.

The kiss lasted forever and only a second all at once. Rolan closed his eyes, breathing in the faint smell of lavender on her skin.

Before he was anywhere near ready, she gently pulled away.

"Because," she murmured, "you're a good man, Rolan. And I like you." Her words, the lingering taste of her on his lips, they made his head spin. He felt like he was watching the door to a new world swing open before his eyes.

Before anything else, Rolan had to kiss her again. He released her hand to smooth the hair back from her face, watching the way she tilted into his touch, and gently guided her toward him.

It was deeper this time; he tasted the heady wine on her mouth, her breath a soft tickle against his cheek. As his fingers tangled her hair, he felt her hand wind sweetly over his shoulder, holding on to him.

A wet stripe flashed across his lips. His mouth gasped open in surprise, allowing her tongue to softly meet his, then draw slowly over his pointed teeth. 

The unexpected sensations brought his mind back to reality, and to the fact that they were in a public place. With effort, he wrenched himself out of the kiss. They breathed against each other for a moment. 

"I've got a room upstairs," she murmured. "If you want to?" Her cheeks were flushed from firelight and wine, and possibly even from him.

Whether or not he wanted to was no question: her words sent a fervent rush of blood to his groin. But first, he mustered enough control to hold her back from him for a moment. Her lips were parted in question.

"I adore you," he said. "I think I have for a long time. It's–very important to me that you know that. Before anything else." Even if the anything else was a dream that had kept him awake more nights than he could count.

Her soft hand cupped his cheek; he thought he might combust if she didn't say something. "Thank Gods," she laughed breathily. "I swore you hated me for a while there."

"I had no idea what to do with my feelings for you, I was a fucking idiot." It was all tumbling out of him now. He opened his mouth to continue, but her fingertips went to his lips.

 "Rolan–" Her voice was full of relief, and he was charmed to see the blush across her face deepen. "I feel the same way. I really, really like you."

His rotten heart could have flipped with joy. 

“Now.” She cocked her head askance, and he felt her fingers twine with his. "Make it up to me?"

Yes. Please, please, yes. He nodded in a daze, reeling like he'd sustained a blow to the head. All he could feel was the elation and anxiety swirling around and around in his stomach as he followed her toward the staircase, let her lead him by the hand like a lovesick idiot.

As they passed her companions he pointedly averted his eyes; he couldn't afford to lose any of the nerve building inside him. He'd need every bit of it in a moment.

The dark staircase seemed to ascend forever. Part of him wanted it to–he was no virgin, but the hand she held tight was shaking with anxiety. He wanted to make this perfect.

Overthinking proved pointless. The moment the heavy door closed behind them, he found himself pinned against it with a thud by the length of her body.

His involuntary groan was lost in their kiss. She was everywhere around him at once: hands pinning his shoulders back against the wood, hips grinding into his thigh with no pretense, her tongue pressing against his lips and slipping past his teeth to taste him. She moaned against his mouth, and the sound reverberated from his head to his feet.

His erection was practically instantaneous. He hooked his thumbs over her hip bones, sharp nails finding purchase in her pants, and rolled himself against the yielding softness between her legs. 

Whatever release the pressure provided multiplied it tenfold. Desire coursed through him, burning in his veins hotter than he thought possible. 

The maneuver brought an approving hum from her throat, however. Encouraged, he ground her into him again, and again, as slowly as his body could be convinced to go.

Her hands released his shoulders to rake upward through his hair, pulling his face toward her.

Pulling him deeper into the room, he realized. He stumbled slightly against something; tasting her lips was infinitely more important than breaking the kiss to look where he was going. He trusted her lead, impatient to reach whatever destination she had in mind so he could freely explore her.

Their connected bodies bumped up against the edge of something soft. She pulled away, and his immediate disappointment rapidly turned around as he felt her fingers fumbling with the clasps of his robe. He guided her hands, struggling at the same time to kick off one boot and then the other. 

As his robes pooled on the floor, her palms pressed him away for a moment.

Rolan stood frozen and panting in his trousers. She licked her kiss-swollen lips as she looked over his bare shoulders, his chest. When her eyes reached the obvious hardness straining in his pants, she let out a delicious sound.

Rolan's hands grabbed for her of their own volition. They slipped under the hem of her shirt, against the bare skin of her waist, and wrenched the garment up over her head in one motion.

To look at her directly was almost too much–he felt love and desire churning together inside of him. "Beautiful," was all he could say.

He buried his face in her shoulder instead, fang-like teeth brushing over her skin as he left a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck. She let out a gasp when his hand gently stroked her breast.

"You're so warm," she murmured into his hair. To him, she was pleasantly cool; he shivered when her fingers traced the small set of ridges that ran from his collarbone to his sternum.

But he needed more of her. He hooked both thumbs over her waistband and tugged ineffectually. She quickly took over, shucking them off with a shimmying motion.

The sight of her bare, for him, was almost enough to make Rolan come then and there. He reached out to her hips to steady himself. She was so much more divine than anything his paltry imagination could have conjured.

Through his blazing arousal, he was barely aware of the hands unlacing his pants until she tugged them down to finally let his cock spring free.

A sigh of relief escaped him. He watched her take him in, her eyes half-lidded with arousal. 

"You're incredible," she whispered. Then her arms slid around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

He tried to concentrate on her mouth, but the way his cock brushed and nudged against her skin every time she moved was taking over his brain.

With a motion of her hips, she captured his length between her thighs and rocked forward and back, sliding her dripping wet center over his cock. The revelation of her own state of desire sent his mind spiraling with want.

Rolan let out what could only be called a whimper. He clutched her to him, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth as firmly as he dared, as if she might suddenly disappear and leave him in an aching pile.

She made a pleased sound, then gave his shoulders a push. With his pants still around his thighs, he lost his balance–knees buckled as he fell backwards onto the mattress behind them.

He propped himself up on his elbows just in time to see her kneel on the floor in front of him. Her two hands pushed his knees apart, as far as the straining fabric would allow–

Rolan tried and failed to breathe normally, heart pounding in his ears. It felt like time was slowing to a crawl. Her eyes glanced from his face to the stiff erection between them. A droplet of moisture shone at its tip.

"Can I–?" She was asking him for permission, hands poised on his thighs, her expression heady with arousal.

"Anything," Rolan swore, and he meant it. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted to him right now. Before he could prepare himself, her mouth closed wetly around his tip. 

Truly, nothing could have readied him. He let out a gasp–his head dropped back as his hips rose involuntarily to seek more of her soft, cool mouth. 

He had scarcely adjusted before she took him in further, sliding her tongue down along his length to his very base–then slowly, achingly slowly, back up again.

He heard the rip of fabric as his nails gripped the bedding. He gathered the will to raise his head up to look.

Rolan was mesmerized by the sight of her lips wrapped around taught red skin, his length disappearing into her mouth and returning wet with saliva. She was working him over almost reverently slow, eyes closed as if tasting him.

Tasting herself on him. His cock twitched inside her mouth at the realization. She glanced up at him, releasing him from her lips with a soft, wet pop.

He could have groaned at the loss of her. Instead, he used the moment to work off his constraining pants and toss them away. Before she could reach for him again, Rolan pulled her up and onto his lap.

Her knees sank into the bed on either side as she straddled him, but she kept herself hovering well above him without contact. He pushed aside the ache between his legs to focus on more important things.

He leaned forward to press a soft kiss between her breasts, allowed his mouth to explore. She sighed with pleasure as he alternately licked and kissed across each curve, then drew sharp breath as his teeth sucked at the soft flesh under one breast. 

Her hands, at first resting on his shoulders, flew to grab two fistfuls of his hair. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

Rolan pulled away for a moment for admire the purple mark blooming on her breast. He glanced up as though looking for approval. She gave it, tugging his hair to tilt his face into a waiting kiss.

Ever so carefully…mindful of his fingertips, he placed the flat of his palm on the heat between her legs.

“Rolan–” she gasped, breaking away. 

The sound of his own name had never been dearer to him. He was run through with a thrill, and a fervent desire to do whatever it took to make her say it again.

  He massaged gentle circles into her, the base of his palm pressing against her clit in slow rhythm. Her wetness coated him with each stroke. She quaked under his touch, eyelashes fluttering, and his other arm circled her back to support her. He felt her lean against him without a second thought. Trusting completely.

“I can’t believe I have you,” he heard his voice say, perhaps to himself. 

As he spoke he felt the core of her tightening under his hand. Abruptly, her fingers closed around his wrist to still his ministrations. He froze, immediately afraid he had scratched her somehow. But her face shone with nothing but desire for him.

"On your back," she directed.

Rolan nearly pinched his tail under himself in his haste to obey. He swept his legs out from between hers and stretched out as she climbed over to straddle him. 

Now they were finally here, she wasted no time leaving space between them. Her hips rolled down onto him and drew the wet folds of her center across his tip. His entire length throbbed at the blessed return of her touch, the head of his cock burning against her. 

Smoothly, simply, she lowered herself onto him.

The shuddering exhale from his lips met against her moan of relief. Rolan willed himself to keep his eyes on hers, even as her inviting walls gripped him, even as he practically felt his pupils dilate with want. Her features relaxed into a state of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

Then she started to move her hips.

She pushed her palms against his chest for leverage, riding his cock at a steady pace that felt entirely too slow. Whatever will he had to follow her lead was immediately tested; he was overcome with the need to touch her everywhere at once. 

Care forgotten, he gripped the soft flesh of her back with his fingertips. She cried out softly as his nails dragged from her shoulders to the base of her hips, but he felt her walls clench around him in response. His tail curled up and around her waist of its own volition, holding her as she took him in further with each bounce of her hips.

She gasped and fell over him, hands braced on either side. She was already losing control. He felt his own release closing in, used the new angle of her hips to thrust up into her. 

“Oh, Gods, yes–” Her mouth dropped open. She moved her hips back with each of his thrusts to take him more deeply. 

Rolan thought he might shatter apart. Waves of searing desire swept harder and harder through him. She took him so perfectly, his cock almost painfully gripped by her tightening walls, so wet and lush and sweet and for him–

A hand flew up to the back of her neck to grasp and to pull her down so he could taste her as he came. Lips crashed together frantically as the pace of their bodies started coming apart at the seams. 

In one bright concentrated moment, she shook and trembled violently into him as she grasped for whatever part of him she could reach. He managed one last stuttering thrust before his climax was ripped from him by her own, spilling inside of her clenching center, hurling him outside himself and into the wide Astral plane.

They shuddered against each others' bodies as white-hot waves receded outward farther and farther. Her head dropped to his shoulder as though she'd lost all muscle control. 

He felt her slowing breaths fan out across his chest, and he rested a hand on the back of her head to keep her there.

-

As Rolan stared up at the wood-paneled ceiling above them, something cold dripped down at the base of him. He realized he was still inside of her. He swung his free arm over the side of the bed–still woozy enough from his climax that he nearly slid head-first to the floor–and snatched up his rumpled robes to clean them both.

She rolled off him then and cuddled up on her side to watch him. He mirrored her pose, adjusting against the pillows to make a spot for his horns. One of her fingers found the point of his ear and began tracing.

“How do you feel?” She asked. 

Rolan sighed deeply. “Happy.” He could cast around for another dozen words, but he’d rather take her in. He smoothed a hand up and down along the curve of her side.

“So do I.” She leaned over to spread light kisses along his lips, then his jaw and cheek. His tail brushed against her leg in an idle caress. 

She glanced down. “I didn’t actually know about…that.”

“Am I your first Tiefling?” He teased, though the thought genuinely pleased him.

“First and last,” she replied. The words were instantly locked away in his chest. 

She gave a little shiver then, tucking her body against his warmth. He dug the covers up over themselves and wrapped her up tight with his arms and legs. The simple feeling of holding her brought him a deep sense of calm.

“I love this, Rolan.” Her lips moved against the hollow at the base of his neck. “I wish I could take tonight and carry it with me everywhere.”

Something sparked in him at her words. He opened his eyes and reluctantly released her to feel around the floor at the floor for his stained robe.

"What are you doing over there?" She lifted her head curiously to peer over the bedside. 

"Just need to find something." He rummaged through his layers of discarded clothing before finally, his knuckle grazed something hard.

He slid back up under the covers beside her. She propped herself up against him, resting a palm on his chest with an expectant look.

He held out his thumb and index finger. Between them, an amber stone glinted in the dim light.

Her mouth fell open in recognition. For one second, he was afraid she might cry.

Then she buried her head in the crook of his neck, wrapping both arms tight around him. "I knew you were a darling all along." 

[casscainmainly]

I think the recent Cass and Jason discussion is very interesting bc like, Jason or even steph in her first appearance take these actions of righteous, murderous (or near murderous) justice bc of the fact that not only have they've been abused, but they're also able to recognise that fact, and feel that despite everything, they didn't deserve to suffer like that (Jason with his murder, Steph with her childhood abuse)

Whereas Cass struggles for most of her series to recognise that she was abused and struggles to properly resent her abuser on the grounds that she didn't deserve it. She resents David for being a killer and making her love him, for making her a killer, but rarely for the actual abuse that came with her training. She eventually recognises it right before the end of pre-52 in batgirl 2008, but not after a long time, and she still tries to save David at the very end after contemplating letting him die.

she does grows to resent Bruce after some time, and confronts him, showing that she's slowly gaining higher expectations for how she should be treated after developing relationships outside the batfamily (coincidentally with Steph, someone who can relate over having a shitty dad, along with her love interests like Kon and Tai)- though Bruce, despite his multitudes of bad parenting moments never truly abuses cass like david did, so there's nuance, and after her fight with bruce, she still has trouble fully reckoning with her abuse (still calls david shooting her 'a game' in front of tim- she knows its wrong but still doesn't act upset about the fact it happened to her).

She kind of sees all the training she went through as a necessary evil in order to have the skills to be a hero- which is somewhat true, but I think it also contributes to her being unable to see herself, even partially, as a victim for large portions of her narrative.

She can understand abuse as something that molds you into a killer, she can't understand being abused and then choosing to be a killer bc of the righteous fury you have at what happened. In Cass' mind her abuse is synonymous with killing. That's the worst thing Cain ever did to her and the reason she ran away. She can't understand someone like Jason choosing it as a way to cope/deal with abuse.

I don't think this is necessarily a ground breaking thought but I think abuse is an interesting lense to look at both Jason and Cass' stories- pre52, Jason's story is about continuing a cycle of abuse. Criminals hurt him, he hurts criminals, and anyone who gets in his way of hurting the criminals, bc even tho he pursues justice, he also pursues retribution, which is hard to do justly. Between that and the whole zombie/living ghost thing, it's downright gothic. Whereas Cass' story is about breaking out of a cycle of abuse- nobody dies bc she let one person die and will never let it happen again. It's just an interesting way to view their differences I think. Good Cass and Jason posts recently!

I LOVE THIS!! I absolutely think abuse informs the way Jay and Cass see the world (and Steph - Steph, in many ways, is the median point between Jason and Cass).

It's the fundamental question that drives Jason and Cass apart. For Cass, her question is: how can I be the victim if I'm the villain? And for Jason, the question is more: how can I be the villain if I'm the victim?

I love this line: "Cass struggles for most of her series to recognise that she was abused and struggles to properly resent her abuser on the grounds that she didn't deserve it." This is doubly complicated by the genuine love David Cain had for her - that panel of them watching the stars kills me every time. This is another key difference between Jason and Cass' abuse (taking Jason's abuse to be his death) - Jason had no love for the Joker, but Cass did love David Cain.

It's why it's so easy for Jason to want to kill the Joker, and so hard for Cass to even be angry at her father. And your point here - "In Cass' mind her abuse is synonymous with killing" - is absolutely on point, because Jason's conception of abuse is the helplessness of being murdered. They are both acting in ways to prevent what abuse means in their minds: as Batgirl, Cass will never have to kill again, and as Red Hood, Jason will never have to be helpless in the face of murderers again.

Any rebuke of their moral codes feels like a denial of the abuse they suffered. It's why Cass can't allow others to kill, and why Jason can't accept Bruce's reasoning for not killing the Joker. It's why these versions of them could never get along. Argh there's been such good Cass and Jason commentary recently, they drive me insane!!!