#this one..canon...but kinda ugly..bit i love it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonnie-the-butcher · 3 months ago

Text

Rip Tide | Chapter X

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 10.312 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

Lil bit of tooth-rotting barry fluff to wash down the tension of the last chapter. Honestly, I love him so so so much. He's the best character, the outer banks writers actually robbed us. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

It takes you a moment to process the situation.

No remnants of moonlight ever peek from your windows, but the distant lamp of your porch buzzes precariously, bathing just the left half of Barry’s face with a glow as pitiful as his expression. – Please, sweetheart. – His hand brushes the doorframe beside you, lighter still in hand as he shifts closer, dragging the smooth plastic across your arm in a slow, sloppy plea. – Look, I know— I know I fucked up. I just— His breath is ragged, heavy. Almost acidic. – I freaked out.

– Are you drunk? – His eyes widen. It's so dark you can barely make out his pupils from his irises, but as soon as he looks away, you know what his problem is. – You’re high. – The disappointment in your voice is palpable. He steps away, and then steps closer, hands sifting nervously at his sides. – Barry, for fuck’s sakes,

– I’m sorry. – He whispers, both hands on your arms now. – I’m really sorry. I just— I don’t know, look, I was stressed out.

– I’m sure turning and running while someone died in my arms was very stressful for you.

– Please. – He breathes, and you get a clear whiff of the alcohol in his system as he steps closer, almost stuttering as you instinctively recoil from the smell. – Look, please, sweetheart, I know I fucked up. I came here to apologize.

– And you did. You can leave know.

He doesn’t let you move. Holding on tighter, Barry makes you look him in the eye. The lights on the porch flicker right then, just enough that you can see how much his pupils are blown. – Let’s talk about it, okay?

– There’s nothing to talk about.

– Yes, there is! – His grip tightens, fingers pressing against your skin. – C’mon, sweetheart, please. – His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to reel you in. Like the blood on your hands was just his problem, not yours. – You don’t gotta look at me like that.

You stare back, jaw tight. – Like what?

– Like I just kicked your goddamn puppy. – He breathes out a slow, humorless laugh, tilting his head just slightly. That easy, effortless charm—his default armor—still lingers, but it’s cracked now. His pupils are too wide, his shoulders too tense.

His thumb traces one slow circle against your arm, absentminded, jittery. – Look, I know I fucked up, alright? I panicked. I ain't proud of it, but I ain't never been built for that kinda shit. That ain't me.

Barry exhales through his nose, shaking his head with that same exasperated, half-drunk, half-high smirk—but it doesn’t land. Not this time.

– C’mon now, sweetheart—

– No. – You shove at his chest, frustration clawing its way out of you, burning, ugly, real. – No, you don’t get to charm your way out of this one, okay?!

His mouth opens, but you don’t let him speak. The words are pouring out, sharp and reckless.

– You always do this, Bee! Always! – Your breath hitches, your voice going hoarse with the weight of it. – Whenever shit gets tough, you run! You leave me holding the bag, then you ignore me for DAYS, no calls, no texts, no “hey, I’m alive, actually,” no nothing! And you come back, with your little smile and your apologies, and I’m supposed to just— Your voice cracks, and you hate that it does. – This is BULLSHIT, Barry! BULLSHIT!

Barry flinches. Not much. Not enough that anyone else would notice. But you do.

For a second, just a second, his bravado cracks. His expression falters, his fingers twitch against your arms like he wants to pull you closer and push you away at the same time.

– I ain’t never ignored you. – His voice is lower now, rougher. There’s no teasing lilt, no half-assed charm. Just something weary.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. – Oh, fuck off, Barry—

– I mean it— No, don't look at me like that, okay?! I wouldn’t ignore you. If you called, if you needed my help, I woulda—

– When did you ever answer my calls after this shit, Barry? No, honestly?! WHEN?

– Don't talk like that. You can’t say that! – His grip tightens, grounding, desperate. – I stayed away 'cause I knew if I came back too soon, I’d just fuck it up worse. I’d say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. I was tryna give you space, a’ight? I was tryna—

His words stumble over each other, cut short like he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Like he’s afraid to.

His lips part, but nothing comes out.

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy.

Then, almost tentative—

– You ever think maybe I ran 'cause I knew I couldn't fix it?

– And I did? – It isn’t just a crack in your voice anymore, it just collapsed. You can feel the weight of the entire week crashing upon you, every fuck-up, every fight, ever blow-out. All the things you had to deal with, the things he wasn’t there to help you with, amounting within your chest, pressing against your ribcage. You can barely breathe. – He was dying, bee. I was gonna kill myself if he’d died right there in my hands Barry, I couldn’t deal with that guilt, man!

He scoffs, shaking his head, tongue running along his teeth. – You think I don’t know what it looked like? You think I ain’t been playing it back over and over in my head, trying to make sense of it? – He exhales sharply. – Shit, sweetheart, I barely even remember leaving. One second I was there, the next I was gone. And you were just—

He stops. Swallows. Looks away, the muscle in his jaw flexing.

– You were just sitting there, holding him like the whole world hadn’t just cracked open.

The words feel too honest, like they slipped out before he could shove them back down. The porch light flickers again, just enough to highlight the tension in his face—he looks gone. Hollowed out, horrified.

For a second, he just stands there, chest rising and falling unevenly, thumb still tracing that absentminded pattern against your skin.

Then, voice lower, almost pleading—

– Just—just let me make it right.

– That’s not the point, Bee.

– Yeah it is! It is! I’m here now! I can—

– But that’s just it! You’re here now. When the dust settles, when you can just say an apology and get forgiveness free of charge, that’s when you’re here! But when I need you, you vanish!

Barry’s breath stutters—just a fraction—but it’s enough. You see it. Feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he can physically hold the conversation together, keep it from slipping through his fingers like everything else.

– That—that ain’t fair, – he mutters, voice hoarse, like he’s already lost the argument but can’t bear to let it go. – I didn’t mean to vanish, sweetheart.

You laugh, sharp and hollow. – Yeah? Well, you did.

His jaw clenches, the muscle twitching like he’s biting something back. He hates this. Hates being cornered, hates that he has no smooth exit, no half-smirk or lazy drawl that can fix this.

– I didn't know what the fuck to do! – He bursts, voice cracking at the edges. – You were— Jesus, he was lying dead there, he weren’t even moving, you were just—

He stops, running a hand down his face like he can wipe the memory away. Like he hasn’t been seeing it every time he closes his eyes.

His voice is quieter when he speaks again. Unsteady. Exposed.

– I ain’t never been scared like that before.

Your chest tightens.

He exhales hard, like he’s bracing himself for a hit, like he knows you won’t let that slide.

– I'm sorry, Bee. I really am, but— You shake your head, throat thick. – You think I wasn’t scared? You think I didn’t need you right then?

Barry’s lips part, but nothing comes out.

– You could’ve stayed. That's what fucks me up. – The words barely make it out, shaking with everything you haven’t said. – You could’ve— I don’t know, just— sat there and did nothing. Lied to me. Told me he was gonna be fine, even if we both knew he wasn’t. But you didn’t even try, Bee. You just left.

Barry flinches. Actually flinches.

He drags a hand over his mouth, eyes flicking away, to the ground, to the porch light, anywhere but you.

– I know. – The words are low. Like they cost him something.

– Then why do you keep doing it?

The question lands heavy, shoving the breath out of both of you.

Barry just looks at you. You don’t see the swagger, the easy smirk, the teasing warmth. He’s a little boy again, that kid you met at the supermarket, sitting alone behind the refrigerators, waiting for a mom that never returned.

For a second, the room is silent. Just the buzz of the porch light, the distant hum of cicadas.

Then, barely above a whisper—

– Because I don’t know how to stay.

And suddenly, it’s not just about this.

It’s not just about that night, or the drugs, or the mistakes, or Rafe. It’s about all of it. Every time he’s slipped away when things got too real, every time he’s left you picking up the pieces. It’s not just habit—it’s who he is.

And maybe—maybe he hates that about himself as much as you do. You stare at him, the weight of those words sinking in slow, like lead in your chest.

Because I don’t know how to stay.

Like it’s just that simple. Like it’s just a fact of life. Like it’s something he’s already accepted about himself. Like that line doesn't kill you, like it doesn’t tear you apart.

You shake your head, breath uneven. – That’s not good enough, Bee.

Barry exhales through his nose, slow and tired, like he already knew you were gonna say that. Like he already knew he didn’t have an answer that would fix it.

– I know.

– Then fucking do something about it! – Your voice cracks again, but you don’t care. You shove at his chest, and this time, he actually stumbles back a step. – You act like this is just—just some part of you that can’t be changed, but it’s not, Barry! You’re making a choice every time you walk away! Every time you leave me standing there, waiting for you to come back!

Your throat tightens, a lump wedging itself so deep you can barely breathe around it.

– Do you even realize what that does to me? – Barry looks like you just knocked the wind out of him. – You don't, do you? That’s cause you have other people. But I don't, Barry! You’re the only one I got!

His mouth opens, then shuts again. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to.

And you’re shaking now, all of it catching up to you at once. The fear, the frustration, the gut-wrenching ache of realizing that you’re always gonna be the one waiting.

– You can’t keep leaving when shit gets hard, man. You can’t. I need you. I need you with me. Fuck, Barry, I just need you to be here! That's all I'm asking for! – You press the heel of your palm against your forehead, like you can physically push back the tears threatening to spill. – I can’t keep doing this with you, Bee. I just can’t.

Barry stiffens.

And for the first time since he showed up, there’s something almost panicked in his expression.

– Don’t say that.

It’s quiet. A whisper.

But it hits you like a gut-punch.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping at your face. – Why not? You gonna run away again?

Barry swallows hard, dragging a hand over his mouth. His gaze flickers—over your face, down to your hands, back up again.

He’s unraveling, but not in the way he usually does. Not in anger, not in frustration.

In something softer.

Something terrified.

He takes a slow step forward, careful, cautious. Like he’s walking a tightrope. Like he’s afraid you’ll bolt.

– I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if you’re not waiting for me anymore.

That breaks you wide open.

Your breath stutters, chest rising and falling like you just ran a mile, but you haven’t—you’ve just been standing here, bleeding out in front of him, watching him do the same.

And the worst part?

You believe him.

That’s your fatal flaw. You always believe him.

You believe that he doesn’t know. That it’s never even crossed his mind that one day you might not be there. That one day, he’d turn back and find nothing waiting for him.

Because you always are.

His fingers flex at his sides, restless, like they’re waiting for permission to reach for you. His mouth parts slightly, and when he speaks, his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

– I know I ain't what you need me to be. I know I don’t always show up right, or say the right shit, or—or stay when I should.

A breath comes out of you. Heavy, charged. You feel as if it lingers between you when you open your mouth again, almost scared to look him in the eye.

– I don’t care if you show up right. I don’t. I like you much better when you’re fucking up then when you’re not around. – Barry stills, his breath catches, eyes flickering to yours. – I don’t need to miss you to like you Bee, I already like you.

His breath hitches, eyes softening. In the dark of your room, his shoulders ease the littlest bit. You see the flame then, the warm orange glow that comes from your lighter as he flicks the switch, once, twice. Illuminating his tightening grip around the cheap plastic. – Yeah? – The word comes out small, almost unsure.

– Yeah. – It should be obvious. It's all you think about. All you worry over. – God Barry, you’re my best friend! – The words seem to knock something out of him. He looks down at his hands, at your lighter, thumb playing with the switch again. – Shit, man. You’re my only friend. All these pieces of shit out here, they ain’t worth a damn.

His eyes drift up to you again as you turn around, pacing with your hands in your hair around the three or four feet of open floor your tiny room has to offer. You feel the weight of his gaze, the words lingering just out of reach.

– I went to look for you at your job today, – He says, almost hesitantly, as if he’s confessing a sin. – that— That kook, with the eyebrows, he told me a server got you fired. – You breathe and nod, falling down on your bed, the exhaustion crystalized within you. – It was Kie, wasn’t it? She got you fired.

You huff, almost a laugh.

If your father was dead, he’d be sitting in hell, laughing his ass off. – So everyone saw that coming before I did, huh?

Barry’s face darkens, but he has the grace not to say what you both know: that you’re a fool. You oughta’ve been blind for Rafe Cameron and Barry both to see the flaw in someone’s character before you did.

You exhale the disappointment in you along with your breath, feeling the springy bed dip and creak as Barry sits down beside you.

– She’s a kook. – He leans back against the wall, still playing around with the lighter. – And she's your brother’s friend. That’s like, the square root of snake.

You can’t help the laugh, but you don’t feel the humor.

– I always do that, don’t I? I always go for the worst possible person, and everybody tells me they’re fucked up, and I still have the nerve to be surprised when they fuck me over.

– That ain’t a bad thing.

Though you appreciate the kind words, you’re not too impressed by the lie in them. – Yeah right.

– Nah, I’m serious. You see the good in everybody. – He laughs then, his hand warm against your knee. – Shit, you saw the good in me.

– You are good, Barry. – His lips part slightly, like he’s not sure how to take them. – You’ve been good since we were kids.

He scoffs, shaking his head. – You didn’t know me. Before, I mean. I was shit.

You let your hand rest against his, over your knee. You can feel the fresh cuts on his knuckles. He always boxed his hands raw when he was stressed out. – I know you now. – He looks at you, almost hopeful. His ears move like a bunny rabbit’s as he zeroes in. – As long as I know you until we die, I’m fine with the shit you did before we met.

He exhales slowly, turning his face away as he clutches your knee tighter, and wipes his face.

There's a beat of silence between you then, and for a moment all you hear is his breathing and the sound of his sniffling.

– I’m sorry I left you there. – His jaw clenches, like he’s trying to shove the words back down, but they keep coming. – But I’m here now. – He exhales sharply, shaking his head. – And I swear to fucking God, I ain’t going nowhere. Not this time.

The promise settles in the space between you, thick and uncertain, but you can feel the weight of it in your bones, tangible, true. You search his face, looking for something—anything—that might tell you if he actually means it.

And then, in true Barry fashion—

He ruins it.

– Well, maybe if the cops show up, then I gotta go. – He tilts his head, smirking just slightly, like he's testing the water, seeing if he can pull you back from the edge. – I can’t go to jail, y’know? I’m too pretty, they’d be fighting over this booty like it was Pearl Harbor or some shit.

You blink at him. Once. Twice.

And then, against all logic, you snort.

It’s short, barely anything, but Barry pounces on it, his grin widening.

– Oh, don’t do that, sweetheart. Don’t pretend you ain't charmed.

– I will literally strangle you.

– Kinky.

You smack his arm—hard—but there’s no real heat behind it, and he just laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe he got you to crack.

The tension in your chest loosens, just slightly, the weight of the night settling in less like a knife, more like an ache.

And Barry sees it.

He exhales through his nose, voice dipping lower, warmer, turning his hand over your knee to hold yours. – There’s my girl.

Your stomach twists, and you look away before he can see how hard that lands in you.

You shake your head, exhaling slow. – You’re fucking horrible, you know that?

He grins, rocking back on his heels. – Yeah. But you love me anyway.

You roll your eyes, but don’t deny it.

Barry smiles—soft, relieved—Like maybe, just maybe, this is something he can fix. – We shouldn’t sit here, moping around, y’know? – You lift your gaze to find him already looking at you, that lazy smirk giving you the slightest glimpse of his white grin, his gold tooth. – I know somewhere we can go.

– If you say the—

– The River Styx, that’s right. C’mon. If we go now we can still catch Jerry and Finnegan.

You roll your eyes so hard it nearly gives you a migraine.

Of course he’d say The River Styx.

It’s always The River Styx.

That shit hole of a bar—the one that plays nothing but old Irish rebel songs that sound like they were pulled straight from the depths of the world war one trenches, where the drinks are so cheap you have to wonder if they’re even legal, where there's no one except old men and overly tattooed ex-convicts. You’ve spent more nights there than you can count, balanced on the shifty stools before the counter, nursing something that burned down your throat like gasoline while Barry leaned in too close, trying to teach you to play pool or singing along to whatever song the old men were screaming to.

A place where, every single time, you drank too much.

And every single time you drank too much, you ended up in his bed.

The thought barely forms before the memory hits, visceral and immediate:

The day you lost your virginity.

Barry’s arm slung over your shoulder as you stumbled through the dark, both of you way past your limit, his breath warm against your neck as he muttered something low and amused into your ear. The porch creaking beneath you as he collapsed onto the couch, pulling you down with him, the weight of him pressing you into the worn cushions.

His hands, so sure, so solid, roaming over your sides, tugging at the hem of your shirt. His mouth, slow and coaxing, murmuring sweet nothings against your lips.

And you—giddy and young, and reckless and naive, and so, so drunk—laughing as you pulled him down, kissing him like you had something to prove.

The memory lingers, stinging like a fresh wound.

You shake your head, physically shaking it off, like you can force it back into the corner of your mind where it belongs.

– No. – The word is firm. Final. You cross your arms. – I don’t feel like drinking shitty moonshine and listening to old men wail about the Irish potato famine for three hours.

Barry raises a brow, and laughs, easily amused by your bad mood. – That’s cold, sweetheart. That’s culture.

– Boo hoo. – You huff. – I can't anyway, I have to be at Rafe's tomorrow at eight.

Barry stills, just barely, not even hiding the distaste on his face.

– Rafe? – His brows pull together. – What the hell are you gonna do at Rafe Cameron's house at eight o’clock in the fucking morning?

You shrug, not sure how to explain it. – Rafe offered me a job. One of his private chefs quit, so I took his place.

Something shifts in Barry’s face.

It’s subtle, but you see it. The slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his lips press together for half a second before solidifying in something displeased, almost angry.

– The fuck kinda person needs a “private chef”?

You roll your eyes. – Barry.

– I’m just saying, – He shrugs, leaning back against the headboard, but there’s something too easy about it now. Like he’s trying not to care. – Dude's got a personal cook? Ain’t that what his stepmom’s for?

You chuckle, the woman's words echoing in your mind. – Rose “doesn't need to cook, because she works.”

– She said that?

– To my face. While I was working. – It's so ridiculous, it's almost funny. – Gotta love rich people. I wish I could walk around saying whatever like consequences just don't exist.

Barry scoffs, shaking his head. But his fingers tap against his thigh—quick, restless. – How did he even know you needed a job?

– I saw him just after I got fired.

Barry’s hand stops.

– You called him!?

– Of course not. He just— I don't know, he just sorta happened to be there. He saw me crying and—

– You were crying?!

– My boss was horrible to me. – You swallow hard, the image burning behind your eyes as your eyes close. – He made me take the coat off there, in front of everyone.

Your throat tightens as you say it. You don’t know why you say it, only that it’s been sitting in your chest for days, heavy and unresolved.

– After Kie got me fired. He— You clear your throat, suddenly uncomfortable. – He— He called me all these things, and I don’t know, it just felt like— You stop yourself short. The words lingers at the tip of your tongue: like him.

You can’t speak about your father, not with Barry, the single person in the world who hates him more than you do.

But you don’t need to say anything.

The way his eyes darken tell you he knows exactly who you're talking about. You feel the tick of his hand against yours, how it hardens, as if he had to physically hold himself back.

His jaw clenches, his tongue running over his teeth before he exhales through his nose, like he’s biting back a reaction.

– Anyway. Rafe just found me there, and he made me feel better. We talked, and then—

– I don’t wanna hear this shit.

You don't know why you laugh. His jaw ticks and his breath gets heavier, he seems like a rottweiler puppy, growling and barking before throwing a little tantrum. – We didn't sleep together, you moron. Jesus, do you really think I'm that easy?!

– Of course not. But the way you said it— A word forms in his lips, but he bites it back.

– The way I said it? – You scoff, shaking your head. – What, like a normal human being recounting a normal conversation?

Barry exhales sharply, tongue running over his teeth like he’s trying to keep something trapped there. His fingers tap against his thigh again—faster this time, like a tell he doesn’t even realize he has.

– Like someone who got real cozy with Rafe fucking Cameron all of a sudden.

You let out a laugh, because it’s Barry—because it’s so stupid, the idea of him sitting here getting all huffy over Rafe like some jealous ex.

– Cozy? – You shake your head, grinning. – Jesus, Bee, you sound like my brother.

Barry scoffs, tilting his head, watching you with something a little sharper now. – Yeah? Well, maybe your brother’s got a point for once.

You raise a brow, amused. – That’s rich, coming from you. Since when do you side with John B on anything?

Barry shrugs, all faux-indifference, but there’s something tight in the motion. Something too controlled. – Since he ain't wrong.

You roll your eyes, stretching out on the bed, kicking your feet up onto the headboard, casual as anything. – Okay, Sheriff, tell me—what exactly is the crime here?

Barry doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at you, lips pressing into a thin line. – I don’t like him.

– You don’t like Rafe? You who introduced me to Rafe? You who always has him over at your place?

– He's not my fucking friend, okay?! He's just an annoying piece of shit who keeps buying drugs from me. What’d you want me to do? Throw money away?!

– Bee?

– Stop. – He sits up, pulling his hand away. – I ain’t playing okay?! Rafe is a jerk.

You snort. – Wow. Groundbreaking insight. So original. So fresh.

– I’m serious. – His voice dips lower, losing some of that teasing edge.

You tilt your head, smirking. – Yeah? – You make a show of looking around. – We at a town hall or something? You’re preaching to the choir, Bee. Rafe Cameron is an asshole. Everybody knows that.

– And yet, – Barry leans in, his eyes locking onto yours in that slow, deliberate way that makes something prickle under your skin. – Here you are, cooking his fancy little meals, letting him wipe your damn tears.

You blink at him.

Once.

Twice.

Then you burst out laughing.

Because what the fuck?

– Barry, oh my God, – you wheeze, covering your face with your hands. – Listen to yourself right now. You sound like—

You don’t even get to finish the thought before Barry shakes his head, standing up abruptly, pacing a few steps like he needs to physically shake something off.

– It ain’t funny.

That only makes you laugh harder.

– It’s hilarious, – You correct, wiping at your eyes, trying to breathe through it. – What, you think I’m about to run off and marry him now? Start wearin’ pearls and calling Rose Cameron “mother”?!

Barry doesn’t answer.

And for the first time, it hits you: He’s actually bothered. Not in the over-the-top, dramatic way he usually plays shit up for laughs. Really bothered.

The realization makes your laughter falter, just slightly.

– Barry?

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw, shaking his head like he’s disappointed—but not in you. In himself. Like he doesn’t know why this is getting to him.

– Whatever. – His voice is quieter now, rougher around the edges. – Do what you want.

You frown. – Bee— You try not to laugh, because you don't want to insult him, but you can't even help it. – Barry, don’t tell me you're jealous?

He glares at you, causing your laughter to grow, it's absurd. Its preposterous. Barry and jealousy.

– You are! You think I'm gonna run off with Rafe and leave you behind!

– Fuck off. – He growls. – Nah, I mean it. – He shrugs, but it’s stiff, unnatural. Like he’s trying way too hard to be casual. – Ain’t my business, right?

But he doesn’t look at you when he says it.

You sit up, watching him. His shoulders are tense, his hands twitchy like he needs something to do. Like if he stands still too long, you’ll see too much.

You already do.

– Bee.

– Drop it. – His voice is rough, final.

But you don’t.

You push yourself off the bed, stepping in front of him. He doesn’t look at you, just rubs a hand over his jaw, exhaling slow through his nose like he’s trying to force himself to let it go.

Like he’s trying to convince himself it doesn’t matter.

You tip your head, watching him.

Then, softer—

– You’re acting weird.

Barry scoffs, shaking his head. – I ain't acting nothing.

You cross your arms. – You got all pissy the second I said Rafe’s name.

– I did not get—

– You literally stood up like the bed was on fire, Barry.

He huffs, shaking his head again, but still—he won’t look at you.

And that’s how you know.

You take a step closer, reaching for him, fingers brushing against his wrist. He flinches, like the contact burns, but he doesn’t pull away.

Not really.

– What’s going on with you?

Barry exhales sharply, tilting his head back like he’s searching for patience on the fucking ceiling.

– Nothing, alright?

You roll your eyes. – Oh, yeah. That was super convincing. Next time, try throwing in a “gee whiz, golly” for extra effect.

Barry finally looks at you, and it’s exasperated, but there’s something else there too. Something tired.

– Jesus, you don’t let shit go, do you?

You smile, sweet, tilting your head. – Not when it comes to you.

That makes something shift in him.

You know it's a low blow, but it disarms him.

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His jaw clenches, his hands flex. He looks like he wants to argue, wants to deny it, but there’s nothing he can say, nothing that would make it not true.

You step closer, pressing your palm against his chest.

He tenses at first, stiff as a board, but you don’t move away. Just stay there, steady and warm, your fingers spreading slightly over the fabric of his shirt.

– Bee, – You say, softer now. Calmer. – Talk to me.

Barry exhales again, but it’s different this time. Less frustrated, more… resigned. His head drops forward slightly, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, but then he just mutters—

– I fucking hate when you do that.

You grin. – Do what?

He lifts his head, eyes flicking over your face, lips twitching like he wants to be annoyed, but it’s already slipping.

– That. – He gestures vaguely. – That whole “I’m real soft and understanding” thing. Makes me feel all… fucking—

He groans, tipping his head back again.

You laugh, tilting your head to meet his gaze. – What? Warm and fuzzy? Like you got actual feelings and shit?

Barry glares at you. – Shut the fuck up.

But you see it. The way his body relaxes just slightly. The way he leans into your touch now, rather than away from it. The way he melts.

Like he always does.

You shake your head, grinning, and before he can process what’s happening, you grab him, pulling him into a hug.

Barry immediately stiffens. – Oh, hell no—

– Shut up, – you laugh against his shoulder, squeezing him tighter. – You’re not gonna lose me to the dark side, Bee. I’m not about to become Rafe Cameron’s bestie and start sipping champagne on yachts.

Barry makes a disgusted sound, muttering – I’d rather you fucking die.

You snort, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Barry huffs, stiff and uncooperative at first, arms glued to his sides like he’s actively refusing to participate.

Then he breathes out, slow and quiet.

And after a few beats, his hands come up, grudgingly, settling on your waist, then tightening just slightly, like he hates that he wants to hold you back, but he does it anyway.

His chin rests against the top of your head, and you feel him exhale, something heavy leaving his chest. – You’re real fucking annoying, you know that? – His voice is lower now, softer.

– Mhm. – You grin against his shirt. – But you loooove me.

Barry scoffs, but you don’t miss the way his fingers flex slightly against your back. – Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, sweetheart.

His chin stays resting on your head, his breath coming slow and steady, his arms firm and real around you. He’s here, for once. Not running, not making a joke out of it.

Just here.

The tension drains out of him like someone pulled a plug, his fingers curling slightly into the fabric of your shirt, like he needs the contact more than he’s willing to say.

You hum against his chest, smirking.

– See? This isn’t so bad, is it?

Barry doesn’t answer at first. Just stays exactly where he is, his arms tightening slightly, like he’s afraid to let go. – Shut up.

You grin, tilting your head up to smirk at him. – Wow. I really have you whipped, huh?

Barry scoffs, pulling back slightly to shoot you a glare, but it’s weak.

You grin harder.

– You love this. Admit it.

His jaw twitches. – I will literally murder you in cold blood.

You gasp, hand over your heart. – You wouldn’t hurt me, Bee. Look at you, you're a marshmallow.

Barry narrows his eyes. – Alright, that’s enough of that.

And before you can react, he grabs you, twisting you around in one fluid motion, throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

– Hey, hey, hey! – You squeal, smacking at his back. – Barry, put me the fuck down!

He laughs, full and unrestrained, the sound vibrating through his chest as he spins you around, ignoring your protests.

– Nah, sweetheart, you wanna talk big? Let’s see you talk with your face in the fucking mattress.

He tosses you onto the bed, and you bounce, letting out a shriek before bursting into laughter. Barry grins, watching you with a look so fond it almost makes your heart hurt. You’re still laughing, shaking your head as he flops down beside you, grinning like an idiot. – You’re the worst.

He smirks, tilting his head at you. – You’re the one who’s putting up with it. I don't hear you complain when I'm paying for drinks.

You’re breathing easy, the air between you light and warm and safe, the weight of the night melting away into something that just feels good.

Barry flops onto the bed beside you, still grinning, breath unsteady from laughing so hard. You’re both just lying there, staring at the ceiling, shoulders shaking from the last remnants of laughter.

Your ribs ache, your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you can’t stop.

His arm is thrown haphazardly across your stomach, warm and solid, like it just landed there on instinct. You don’t move it. – You’re ridiculous, – you mutter, still breathless.

– And you’re obsessed with me, – Barry shoots back, a lazy smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

You snort. – Oh, totally. I wake up every morning thinking about how much I wanna be Barry fucking Russo.

He hums, mock-thoughtful. – Can’t blame you. I’d wanna be me too.

You smack his chest, and he lets out an exaggerated oof, before turning on his side to face you, his head propped up on his hand.

His eyes flicker over your face, softening just slightly.

And for once, he doesn’t say anything cocky.

Just looks at you.

– What?

Barry exhales, shaking his head. – Nothin’.

– You’re staring, Bee.

– So?

– So, you’re being weird.

Barry smirks, but it’s softer now. – You ever just look at someone and think, “Damn. This dumbass really puts up with my shit?”

You grin, biting your lip. – Every time I look at you, actually.

Barry chuckles, shaking his head. – You little shit.

– Takes one to know one.

He grabs your wrist, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him, pulling you half on top of him like you’re just a part of him now.

You yelp, but he just laughs, shifting so you’re tucked against his side, his arm slung lazy over your back. – Aww, someone needs a cuddle!

– Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and enjoy it, sweetheart.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move. Instead, you let your fingers trace absentminded shapes against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

Barry hums, content. – See? Ain’t this nice?

You let out a mock-sigh. – Guess I can tolerate it.

Barry grins, tugging you closer, resting his chin against the top of your head.

– Knew you loved me.

You just shake your head, smiling, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

You feel like you might actually fall asleep then. A comfortable, resting sleep. Nothing like these half-hearted black-outs you’ve been having. Barry’s breath is even, whistling against the loose strands of your hair softly, a breeze upon a placid ocean, and your mind drifts away, quiet, content.

The lightness of it lingers on your face for a moment, but like your energy, the smile also fizzles out. Barry shifts, just slightly, stretching his arms with a lazy groan before grabbing you again, pulling you right back into his chest like it's just natural.

Like it’s comfortable.

And it is.

His warmth seeps into you, his breathing low and steady, and he pulls you even closer as you tell him to lay on his side. Your body feels heavy now, exhaustion creeping in at the edges of your conscience, blurring your surroundings out.

There’s a sound, some mumbled words that whisper through your hair as you lay there, head tucked under your friend’s chin, but you can’t register them. Whatever that was, you hum to it, half-heartedly, the thought of asking on what he said only tangentially floating through your mind as your breath syncs with his and your mind finally shuts down, before you can even ask what he said.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you sleep.

Not the restless, fractured kind of sleep that leaves you more exhausted than before. Not the kind where your mind keeps running half-heartedly, processing a thousand worries at once, replaying every mistake, every conversation, every single thing you should have said but didn’t.

Just sleep. Real sleep. Deep, warm, safe, and dreamless.

The morning soaks through you slowly as the sun invades your room.

Your senses return to you, one by one. —You feel the perfectly comfortable warmth of an embrace that’s shifted through the hours. Your limbs aren’t numb, but still, they’re tangled. On the sheets, around Barry’s, in your own old clothes. You blink, still foggy, before tilting your head to see him splayed out beside you, completely at peace, mouth slightly open, one arm thrown dramatically over his face like he’s posing for a Renaissance painting. You can smell the cigarettes he smoked before coming here, the smoke still clinging to his clothes. You hear his snoring, low and soft like the purr of an engine, and then— The distant clang of dishes, the low murmur of voices, the thud of something hitting the counter too hard.

Your perfect moment, corrupted by the life outside of it.

Your body stirs before your mind does, pulling you from the heavy weight of sleep into the early light of morning. Your watch, thrown somewhere on your pillow where your arm had rested at some point, marks 6:21. Just enough time to shower and get ready.

Your stomach grumbles as you sit up, but you’ve given up on breakfast before you can even think about it, knowing damn well John would never bother to go grocery shopping.

It’s been a while since you actually resented the thought of having to get up.

With the watch weighing heavy in your palm, you linger in that same spot for another moment, taking in the softness, the calm. It feels like a safe haven: the wrinkled sheets thrown half-hazardly over the two of you, the tiny twin bed creaking as you move, the soft, almost content huff Barry lets out as you adjust the pillow under his head, stirring without waking as you gather the courage to stand.

The floor creaks as you walk, the dresser’s drawer creaks as you pull on it, and you take one last look at the room, at Barry, at the sun casting long golden streaks of light across the stale air, as if keeping that image could keep you from the storm you know is brewing outside.

Still, you allow yourself to savor it, the last fleeting taste of what could’ve been a decent day.

John and Sarah’s voices are clearer as you step out into the hallway, but you don’t allow yourself the energy to decode their words. The bathroom door opens and closes behind you, the clothes you picked out fall, still folded, over the lid of your laundry basket, and you throw the towel on the hook, eyeing yourself in the mirror before facing another cold shower.

Your good mood is officially gone, fallen to the corruption of your own skepticism, and to the fact your brother still has not fixed the fucking heater.

The water is colder than normal, but you let it hit you anyway, let it wash away the last remnants of sleep, of comfort, of safety.

By the time you step out your skin is pricked with goosebumps, your hair damp and dripping as you reach for your towel. You avoid your reflection in the mirror this time, focus instead on the small streaks of condensation gathering on the glass.

The floor is rougher beneath your bare feet, the air cooler, the walls closer.

The house itself feels different.

John and Sarah’s voices come into focus as you approach the kitchen, their conversation sharp and muffled all at once. You catch only bits and pieces—your name, Rafe’s name, something about him—but you don’t linger on it.

You already know what they’re saying.

You already know what they think.

The conversation stops as soon as you step into the room.

Abrupt. Jarring.

Like they weren’t expecting you, despite the fact that you live here.

– Good morning. – You say, thoughtless, already reaching for the coffee pot. Its still hot, but the jar is empty— You’re not surprised that he would make just enough for him and Sarah, but still, its no less annoying.

– For who?

You can’t even take him seriously. – Jesus Christ, John. What's your problem?

– Well, for starters—

You cut him off before he can begin. – The question was rhetorical, dumbass. – You move around them, from the pot to the counter, trying to make coffee and doing your best not to meet his eye. – “Good morning” is a well-wish. “What's your problem” is a rhetorical question. You could’ve kept quiet and spared us both the embarrassment.

– You’re ridiculous.

You measure the powder into the filter, crumpling the empty package and throwing it across the room to the trash overflowing in the corner. – You could’ve at least taken out the trash.

He scoffs, a bitter laugh on his lips as he looks up. – You’re unbelievable. We didn’t even start the argument and you’re already deflecting! This has got to be a record.

– Great, How about you measure the greatness of this record after taking out the trash?

– Are you serious? – He groans. You look at him with a straight face, arms crossed over your chest. – You are un-fucking-believable.

You breathe and smile, humorless. – We haven’t even started the argument and you’re already repeating yourself. Damn, John. This has got to be a record.

– Is EVERYTHING a fucking game to you?!

– I don’t know. But hey, since you seem to think I spend all my time around Rafe, maybe you should go and ask him.

His eyes bore into yours, sharp and cutting. – This is not the own you think it is, Y/n.

– And you don’t have as much dog in this fight as you think you do, John. – Your breathing is measured, and you’re counting to a hundred in your head. You’re committed not to losing it this time. You can’t let him get to you, but you feel every expression he makes grinding at your nerves, and you’re sinking your nails into your palms before his mouth even opens. – We’re even. Let’s leave it at that.

– Oh sure, that’s a great idea. My sister is a traitor without a fucking conscience who can’t even be bothered to tell me about what goes on in her life, but let’s leave it at that, right?!— We’re not even, actually. We’re not even close—

– Oh my God, get to it already! We’ve had this fight three times this week, can we just jump to the highlights?! I’m working for Rafe. You’re pissed I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t have time. And I didn’t have time, because the moment I could have used to tell you was spent having THIS EXACT FUCKING TALK. – You lost it. You just did, your hands gesture wildly because you feel that whatever it was that you had to hold onto—your sanity, your dignity, your temper— is slipping through your fingers as you speak. – So go ahead! Jump to it, John! Just storm out and have your tantrum already so we can stop pretending any of this bullshit matters at all!

– This is our fucking life we’re talking about! Of course it matters!

– No, no. That’s just it. This isn’t my life, actually. This is the John B show! You run around and you do your little things and you have your little adventures and you think you’re the star around which the rest of the universe revolves! So when I go out and I do something without your stamp of approval, you think I’m out to get you! But I’m not John! I’m not trying to fuck you over! I’m just trying to put food on our fucking table!

– Oh here we go again. – He scoffs.

– Yes! Yes, we’re going there again. So sit down on the chair, my chair, the one that you broke and I had to fix. Then you can have a cup of coffee, which I bought, and you burned through. And maybe, when you’re done not washing the dishes, you can go and have a cold shower, since that’s the only option we’ve got, because your ass can’t even follow through on the little responsibilities you fucking have!

You’re tired of repeating this, tired of saying it over and over again. But he doesn’t listen.

– Why does everything have to be about money with you?!

– NEWS FLASH motherfucker, that’s the only reason I’m working for Rafe, which is the reason why you’re mad at me, which is the reason why we’re having this conversation in the first place!

The words hang between you.

John’s chest rises and falls hard, his fists clenched at his sides, his mouth still open, like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

He just laughs, bitter, venomous.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

You’re both just standing there, breathing hard, staring each other down like you’re waiting for the other to swing first.

John scoffs, shaking his head, running a hand down his face. – You know what? – His voice is lower now, not calmer, just quieter. – Forget it. Just—forget it.

He turns away, reaching for his mug, but his grip is too tight, and the coffee inside sloshes over the rim, spilling onto the counter. He curses under his breath, slamming it down harder than necessary.

You watch him for a second, jaw tight.

Your hand is clutching your arm, your foot is bouncing. You feel the need for movement surging through your bones as he takes a step towards the door, and you know you shouldn’t do it. But if you spend another fucking day lingering in the things you two left unsaid you’re gonna choke in your own words and this is gonna end badly for the both of you.

So you rush, and you grab him, and you tug him back like a ragdoll. – Don’t walk away from me!

He scoffs. – What? Too hard to sit alone with your guilty conscience?

– Not really, no. But it must run in the family, since you can sit alone with your conscience all day and still never stop being a fucking hypocrite.

John yanks his arm free, spinning to face you, eyes burning. – You don’t get to call me a hypocrite when you’re the one crawling into bed with fucking Rafe Cameron.

Your breath stutters for half a second before rage swallows it whole. – Do we have to go through this every fucking day?! I’m not fucking Rafe! He offered me a job! I took it because we can’t afford to live any worse than how we’re already living without actually starving!

– We’re fine! – He shouts, shoving at you. – We’re living just fine! You’re not doing this out of some need to survive, you’re doing this because you have this burning desire to piss me the fuck off! I’ve got news for you too, Y/n. Your need for attention isn’t gonna fix the fact you fucked it up with dad! It’s not gonna fix the fact your mother didn’t love you. So maybe you can sit with that feeling and figure out another way to get me to look at you without having to humiliate us both!

You’re frozen in place, looking at him.

You see Sarah shifting uncomfortably in the corner, her eyes drifting between the two of you like she’s trying to figure out which direction to run in.

The breath that escapes you feels like it’s been there for years. But there is no great realization. No mask comes off, no true colors are revealed. You’ve seen this all already. You’ve heard these insults in countless different fonts, countless different arguments. And though it hurts no less to hear, somehow you find it in yourself to laugh. – I don’t know how you find it within yourself to be so low.

He looks at you, lips parted, as if he is the one who is surprised by the words.

You breathe in.

– You’re right, John.

It comes out of your lips like chains falling off of you.

It’s been written on the walls for years, and yet you spent so long a time with your head down, it never occurred for you to read the warnings.

– You’re right. This is the John show. I’m a backup character. I don’t live for myself. I live for you. – The rope keeps falling, and falling. The more you talk, the clearer it gets. – All the money I make goes to this house. And all the money you make goes to you.

It doesn’t weigh heavy.

It doesn’t hurt to say.

It’s there, and it’s true.

– All this time I thought you were in denial, but you’re not. You’re just living a completely different life. I’ve been scraping by for FUCK— The anger falls like sack of bricks, hard, sharp corners and rough sides grating against your fragile bones. It hurts. It bruises. You can feel yourself split open, you can feel yourself bleed out. – I’ve been scraping by so you could do what?

– Y/n…

– What, John?! WHAT?! So you could do what?! Drink yourself stupid with your little friends and talk shit about kooks while you’ve been living the EXACT SAME FUCKING LIFE AS THEM?! Is that why I work? So you can— You look at Sarah, and you think of her house. The life she’s putting aside to pretend she has some character. – So you can eat lamb at Ward Cameron’s and humiliate me? You haven’t stopped eating so I could eat. You haven’t been convincing yourself you like a job where you’re constantly humiliated so it can be bearable to barely pay the bills. You’ve been spending it all in beer, and weed, and food that you DON’T EVEN FUCKING LEAVE FOR ME.

The coffee is done. Sitting there on the pot, untouched. Scalding.

You don’t remember the last thing you ate at your house.

The last decent night of sleep you had on your own bed.

The last time you enjoyed any of the things you’ve been killing yourself for.

You back yourself into a corner, you look away from John, from Sarah, from this house that’s been draining at you like a fucking leech.

John looks stunned.

Not guilty. Not sorry. Just—stunned.

Like he never thought you’d say it out loud.

Like he never thought you’d realize it.

Sarah’s still frozen, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, like she’s waiting to see if this is where it ends. If this is where you finally walk out.

You feel like you should keep talking, like you should scream, like you should break something—but there’s nothing left to say.

You already said it.

And that’s the worst part: John knows you’re right. He knows.

But instead of admitting it—

He laughs.

Short. Bitter.

And when he looks at you again, his jaw is set, his fists clenched at his sides. – Is that what you have to say? – His voice is quiet, but it cuts just the same. – That I’m useless? That I don’t pull my weight?

– You are. – It's bitter too, but when the words leave your lips you feel like you've eaten for the first time in weeks. – You're useless. And you don’t pull your weight. But I've never asked you to. That's my own fault. I don’t need you to be useful, John. I don’t need you to be a man. I don’t even need you to be my brother. Shit, clearly, you’re none of those fucking things. But I expected that if you were gonna freeload off of me, at least you’d have the decency to leave me the fuck alone as to how I make the money you so carelessly flit around.

You look away, to the bin forgotten in the corner. To the clock, marking the little time you still have to get this over with above the window.

And for once, you don't feel the world resting on your shoulders.

For once, it isn’t on you to hold this crumbling house up.

– Take out the trash. Call someone to fix the heater, and clean up after yourself for once. Cause if I get home, and things are still the way I left it, I’m leaving you here, and you can support this house on your own.

John scoffs, but it's stuttered. Unsure. Like he’s trying to call a bluff he isn’t actually sure won’t stand the scrutiny. – You don’t have anywhere to go.

– I can live off of what I make. You, on the other hand, can’t live off of your own delusions.

– Walk away.

You don’t answer.

Because he’s not answering you.

He’s just flipping it around, turning it into something else, something easier for him to fight against.

Your stomach turns.

You push off the wall, shaking your head.

John scoffs. – Oh, no. We’re talking now, right? Let’s talk. Go ahead. Tell me I’m a selfish piece of shit—

– I don’t need to. – Your voice is tired now. Not angry. Not screaming. Just done.

That shuts him up faster than anything else could have.

Sarah finally moves, stepping forward, voice cautious, but the bomb has gone off, she’s trying to diffuse something that’s already blown you all into pieces.

– Hey. Maybe we should all just—

But you don’t stay to listen.

You don’t want to hear whatever half-hearted bullshit John is about to spit out next.

You turn, walking away, feeling the weight of the house pressing down on you with every step.

And as you get to the doorway—

You see Barry.

Standing right there.

Arms crossed, leaning against the kitchen door.

Like he’s been standing there for a while.

Watching. Listening.

His expression is unreadable.

But his eyes say everything you need to hear.

He moves back, arm out as you pass the doorway, and he gathers his things quietly as you put on your shoes.

The house is silent as you lace up your sneakers, the argument still thick in the air behind you.

But you don’t look back.

Barry doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask if you’re okay, doesn’t tell you that you were right or wrong—he doesn’t have to. You already know. Instead, he moves easily: grabs his jacket, tucks your lighter in his pocket, reaches for the helmet sitting on the table.

He spins it once between his fingers, then holds it out to you.

A simple motion. Nothing grand. Nothing spoken.

But he smiles as you reach out to take it, and he laughs, softly, contently, as you lead him out.

The morning air hits sharp against your skin, cool and steady, grounding you in a way the house never could.

Barry swings a leg over his bike, Rafe's bike, settling in easy, waiting for you to do the same.

You exhale, slipping onto the seat behind him, arms looping loosely around his waist as he kicks the stand back.

And when the engine rumbles beneath you, drowning out the house, the argument, the weight of everything inside—

You breathe.

And for once, it's easy.

Barry doesn’t look back.

He just shifts the bike into gear, rolls out onto the road, and drives.

You barely register the road you two leave behind until he’s pulling into the Camerons’ driveway. But you step off the bike, hand him his helmet, and he holds your hand. – You can stay with me, you know?

– Huh?

– Tonight. I’ll pick you up, you can stay at mine. That oughta scare him.

The laughter on his lips is airy, meant to be. That’s what you like about him, you realize—Barry doesn’t second guess things. He lives for him, and him alone, never doubting that’s how things are meant to go. It’s hurt you before, but you see it now, fully-formed, mature, and vulnerable— He holds the helmet between you almost like an invitation. Come with me. The gesture says. Run with me, wild like me, happy like me.

And you’ll be damned.

Because at the moment, there’s nothing you want more.

– I don’t need to scare him, Bee. – You hum, but it isn’t pensive. You can think about John now, and your chest doesn’t tighten, your voice doesn’t crack. – He can do what he wants.

– So can we.

You smile despite yourself.

That’s another thing you like about Barry: he always says we.

With him, it’s never, “I want, I need, I can”. It’s “we’re gonna, we can, we will.” Like the two of you are two halves of one conscience.

– And what do we want to do? – You ask.

He smiles wide, pulling at the helmet to bring you closer, his hand resting at the dip of your waist. – Go to The River Styx and drink our asses off. You get the bed.

– Wow. Unmissable deal.

– That’s how it is with me, sweetheart.

– So if I get the bed, where do you sleep?

He pretends to ponder, flashing you that golden grin as he looks back at you. – On top of you?

– You’ve been missing pillows or something?

– I’ve been missing you. – He says. And it's so simple. So completely free of any strings attached it almost feels foreign to hear it.

– You never lost me, Bee. I’m always here for you.

– Always? – This time it’s small, and though he’s never uncertain, it’s almost like he’s begging to be reaffirmed.

And you do.

Not because it doesn’t cost you anything, but because it enriches you to say things as openly as he does. – Always. Cross my heart.

Barry hums, tilting his head, looking at you like he’s committing you to memory.

Then, in one fluid motion, he tugs you forward, arms wrapping around you, face buried in the crook of your neck.

You feel held.

The steadiness of his arms, the weight of his relief, the strength that it gives you.

Held.

Fully, completely, like he’s not just pulling you in, but holding himself up too, steadying himself against you the way you’ve steadied yourself against him a thousand times before.

Your fingers tighten against the fabric of his jacket, your face pressing into his shoulder, breathing him in—smoke and Barry, something familiar and grounding. Something that never changes.

For a moment, the world outside of this doesn’t exist. Just his breath against your skin, the quiet hum in his chest, the weight of him solid and real against you.

You pull back, hands sliding over his shoulders as you step away.

It’s over, but it doesn’t feel like it. The ghost of his warmth lingers around you just as the smirk he had before lingers on his lips.

– I’ll call you for a ride when I’m done.

Barry smirks, his grip still loose at your waist. – You can ride me whenever you want, sweetheart.

You scoff, shoving at his chest, and he laughs, stepping back, grinning like an idiot.

You shake your head, turning toward the house, but then—

Then you look up.

The silhouette on the window, lingering silently behind curtains that are all too white, all too frigid. The look in his eyes. That radioactive blue that you can’t get a read on, lingering far. But not on you, on Barry.

You feel the air shift.

You swallow, turning back to Barry, but he’s already climbing onto the bike, completely unaware of Rafe’s eyes.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @myluvingera @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss @redkarmakai @hwaaholic @sydkneez @sassyvillaintrophy

152 notes · View notes

seiwas · 6 months ago

Note

hihi sel!! for your blurb game... hawks + nose + slow burn

thanks for sending this prompt bitti!! 💗

hawks + nose + slow burn

contains: non-canon au, commercial model!hawks, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, hawks gets drunk, reader dates a guy at some point, kinda cliche but i am a sucker for that

keigo's nose twitches when he lies.

it's a tell you've known well all your life.

when he was 5, he used to climb up a tree to practice how to "fly". it was really just him trying to parachute down using his bedsheets, but you watched every attempt―cheered him on whether it was a success or failure.

and when his mother's voice echoed down the park, you watched as he answered, "no," when she asked if he was trying to launch himself up to the sky.

you first noticed it then, the delayed reaction a few seconds after he had just covered up the truth: his nose twitched twice, a quick crinkling of his nose bridge. you didn't think much of it until it happened the second, third, and fourth time.

at first, you'd felt betrayed, being pulled by your ankles down into the swimming pool when he promised you he wouldn't. at 10 years old, you held these things like an oath―

"i promise! won't even go near you. see?" he swims away from the ledge you remain hesitant of approaching, hands raised up in surrender as he laughs.

―compelling; believable. trustworthy. water weighs down his otherwise bird's nest hair, taming it slack against his forehead. with his eyes forming into crescents when he smiles, he looks like the very image of a good kid down the block.

you get better at spotting it as you grow up together, and soon enough, you realize, it suits keigo to be a liar. he's charming above all, drips down sweet words like honey to anyone gullible enough to believe it. they're empty promises most of the time, but a lot of people fall for it, you notice. you included.

"i’m not interested anyway," he tells you at 18, right after graduation. one of the girls in your class was brave enough to confess to him and you’re curious how he feels about it, if anything.

being keigo's longest and arguably even best friend means that you know him better than anyone else. you were there when he was ugly, puberty catching up to him slowly. you’ve witnessed him just woken up, groggy from a full night of studying, because despite the nonchalance he often displays, he does care about his grades more than he lets on.

you know when he’s happy, when he talks about his dreams; the excitement he felt when he was scouted as a commercial model for a prestigious agency. you know his heart, beneath all his playfulness, how he keeps the people he values close to his chest and cares about them more than anything.

(you remember every single time keigo has lied on your behalf, nose twitch after nose twitch—that time you spilled grape juice all over your carpet and keigo told your mother that it was all his fault; when you forgot a book for one of your classes and keigo gave you his, taking the consequence of detention in your stead.)

you know keigo well because you love all the parts of him.

so when his nose twitches after he tells you he doesn't care much for relationships, your heart breaks just a little bit. you begin to wonder if keigo has a type, and if that girl fits right into it.

getting over keigo while still being his best friend is a herculean, if not impossible, task.

his career skyrockets and you go to university; your schedules are always in conflict but he still happens to be everywhere you look―ads on your instagram feed, wallpapers on your classmates' phones. there are shorts of his interviews constantly recommended on your youtube homepage and the feeling is both weird and comforting watching someone you know so well be so accessible yet difficult to meet.

you could reach out, sure, but you know he's busy enough as is. you don't think it's his priority to―

"come over soon," he texts you one thursday night.

your heart hammers against your chest, fingers numbing as you nearly drop your phone. it's embarrassing how quickly you type out, "when?"

but keigo is a fast texter, somehow always beating you to your replies first.

"this sat?" he double messages.

and you're about to reply "down" when he chats again, his words leaving an ache in your chest that you can't help but feel guilty for.

"haven't seen u in ages i think i'm starting to hallucinate hearing ur voice or smth."

spending more weekends together makes it harder for you to get over him, sitting on his couch as you both eat takeout; earlier today, you'd stumbled upon some stupid tiktok gossiping about all the dating scandals he's been embroiled in this past year.

you stuff chow mein down your throat, swallow it in big gulps as you glance at your best friend across you; he remains lax and unbothered as his legs cross in front of him, eyes on the the movie you're currently watching. it's a slow and painful process trying to get yourself to be just as uncaring about the entire thing, but with how often keigo lies, you find it hard to distinguish whether his "playboy" image is real or just for marketing.

curiosity gets the better of you when the question slips out, awkward and clearly fabricated.

"one of my friends is asking if i can introduce you."

you avoid eye contact in fear that he'll be able to tell you're making it up. no one from university knows you're keigo's best friend; he's kept you a secret just as much as you've kept him one.

"tell them sorry, too busy to date," he shoves a handful of popcorn straight into his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly to conceal the fact that his nose is twitching. his arm is slung over the back of the couch as you nestle yourself on the other end of it.

the topic is sensitive for the both of you; keigo always shoots down any opportunity to talk about his love life and you're always conscious of the fact that you might seem too eager to want to know what the real score is between him and the girl at the bar, at the photoshoot, at the gala, at the―

"am sure uni doesn't give you much time either, right?"

he changes the subject.

keigo is linked to a lot of people in the industry; it's a consequence of the job, as they say. rumors are neither confirmed nor denied and you're just as clueless as the public is despite the fact that you've known him your whole life and spend your weekends eating greasy takeout on his expensive couch.

you should move on, you tell yourself.

it doesn't mean anything that the throw blanket on his bed is the one you crocheted for him when he turned 21. the picture that sits on his entryway isn't anything more than a memento of youth with his best friend. sure, he makes time for you despite his busy schedule, but that's what all good friends do.

so, you start seeing someone. and when you tell keigo, things change.

it only makes sense that you hang out with him less, but he changes more than the circumstances do and you don't think that's fair at all.

he's started replying to you late, which has never happened before. and he's begun cancelling plans with you at the last minute, only for you to find leaked pictures of him at some bar with a bunch of people hanging by his arms.

keigo hangs around alcohol, but he rarely ever indulges, so having him call you shit-faced drunk right after he cancelled hanging out on the same weekend is definitely something new.

you’re in rare form driving his car to pick him up, hoisting him onto the passenger seat as he passes out to sleep. it’s only when you get to his apartment that he groggily wakes.

the elevator ride has him clinging to the side railings, his groans filling the tiny space. an empty plastic bag is ready in your hand in case he needs to hurl—which he doesn’t, thankfully—but he crashes on the couch as soon as he walks in the door.

you ready a glass of water and painkillers on the coffee table in front of him before grabbing the throw blanket from his bedroom. when you return, he's tucked into himself like a baby, knees curled up and arms crossed around torso in an embrace.

it both endears you and aches; you'd hug him if you could. if only your feelings could handle being closer to him than you should be.

instead, you settle for tucking him in, draping the crochet blanket over him as he snuggles into it.

admittedly, you're still kind of pissed; he did flake on your plans after all. but when he mumbles your name in his sleep, you find all of that anger flushed down the drain immediately.

the first time keigo meets the guy you've been seeing, you don't expect the hostility.

your best friend is your best friend for a reason—he's the warmest, friendliest person you know. even the media portrays him that way: charming and a little too flirty for his own good.

"quit it," you tell him when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend goes to the restroom. you're pretty sure keigo's the reason he needed to go in the first place.

keigo sips his tea, doing a complete switch-up when he smiles at you and asks, "quit what?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm pretty sure he pissed himself because of you."

he snorts, shrugging his shoulders, "not my fault."

it is completely his fault.

from the moment your not-yet-boyfriend shook keigo's hand, your best friend has done nothing but stare him down―a piercing glare like that of hawk’s hunting its prey. you'd liken his grip to talons digging into skin if you could.

"you're such an asshole," you shake your head resignedly, chuckling. the horrible thing about this is that you kind of liked seeing keigo make him squirm.

"it's my job," he lifts his cup up to cheers.

(you find out later on that this is when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend realized it would never work out.)

you're not crying when you tell keigo about the kind-of-break-up. you don't even think you feel that sad about it.

"sorry things had to end that way..." keigo says beside you, legs crossed under half of the crocheted blanket on his couch.

you give him a side-eye and notice his nose twitch. you'd know that fake sad tone anywhere.

"i was starting to warm up to him, you know..."

another nose twitch. you kick his shin under the blanket, the half on top of you rustling on top of your lap, "yeah right, nose-twitcher."

"ouch, that burned," he pretends to be hurt for the theatrics and you roll your eyes, chuckling in return.

everything about this moment is everything it should not be―it's too comfortable, too familiar, too easy. your relationship with keigo is everything you want but can't have and times like this remind you especially of that fact.

he's your best friend―

"why'd he break up with you anyway?"

―and is the reason why you can't seem to make it work with anyone else.

"i don't want to get in the way," your kind-of-ex started. you looked at him, confused.

"you have feelings for him," he further explained, "and it looks like he feels the same."

your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend said he'd caught that moment at the coffee shop as soon as he got out of the restroom―you and keigo laughing as you clinked cups.

you blink away the memory, shrugging, "don't know, just said it wasn't working out or something."

keigo hums, a beat of silence passing between the two of you before he speaks up again.

"well, it's his loss."

you turn to look at him and find sincerity; you're sure he means it, just not in the way you want him to, an awkward "thanks" mumbled under your breath.

things with keigo go back to the way things were, but not exactly.

his schedule miraculously clears up on the weekdays too, and he begins visiting your apartment to take you out for brunch whenever he finds the time.

he also stops going to bars and a whole year passes for him without any dating scandal, except for when he attended your graduation.

you try not to feel too happy about it, but when he's asked about the nature of your relationship, he says that you're important to him. the answer is still vague, but it's infinitely better than the way he used to evade all the previous ones.

"i'm rebranding," he tells you when you mention something about how you haven't seen any gossip tiktoks about him lately.

you push down the hope that fizzes in your chest, even when the biggest change of all is the fact that you think he's gotten clingy.

"wanna stay over again?" he asks you on a tuesday night as you're having dinner, on the table this time. you've already been here for the past two days.

you eye him suspiciously, "are you scared of your apartment or something?"

"no."

"so why?" you take a sip of water.

"no reason," he copies you, bringing his cup up higher to hide his nose; it twitches before you can catch a look.

"well, i have an early day at work tomorrow," you check your phone, "so you have to give me a better reason."

you stare at each other for a while, the silence suddenly turning a touch heavy, like suspense building up to an important scene.

he blinks. you blink.

you watch him intently, see every thought that crosses behind golden irises. he juts his lips out slightly, as if contemplating what he should say next, if he even should. it's unlike any expression you've seen on his face before, and you'd say he almost looks nervous if you only had a reference of how that emotion translates on him.

then he takes a small breath, closing his eyes half a second longer than a blink before opening them again, directing his gaze at you.

"it's better when you're around."

oh.

you don't exactly know how to respond to that; you know you shouldn't read into it too much, but then he continues―

"and i miss you when you're gone."

your breath is on hold, a measly "oh," drawn from you. time feels suspended at this dinner table, your brain finding words to say.

keigo doesn't let go of his gaze and his nose has not twitched.

you try to push it further.

"i'm," you start, already stuttering, "i'm sure you'll survive a day without your best friend."

the chuckle that escapes you gives him an option to downplay this entire thing—to turn it into a joke and make it clear once and for all that you stand no chance feeling the way you do.

except, he doesn't return your laugh. his gaze softens as he holds his stare, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile.

"and if you're more to me than just my best friend?"

you search for any sign that this is some cruel trick keigo's playing on you, that he's lying to get some kind of reaction again. but there's nothing—his nose completely still as he awaits your answer.

a/n: mostly unedited, this is so long help. at some point i started envisioning gojo ngl 😭 anyway this is my first time writing hawks! i'm not so sure if i got his character right because he's complicated but!! i enjoyed writing this (clearly with how long it is 😭😭). he knows that his nose twitch is his tell (reader told him at some point), that's why he tries to hide it sometimes! also he never truly dated anyone haha man is unfortunately very non-committal 🥹 i think getting to this point with reader is a big step! he had feelings for reader early on too but i think he's very careful with it (which is also why it took him this long to do something about it!)

hope you like this bitti! 💗

#hawks x reader #bnha x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #shotorus.workbook #bitti.🍞#ask #rep #rabbbitseason

306 notes · View notes

meanbossart · 4 months ago

Text

ASK COMPILATION: Boomer Drow, Scratch, Mouthwashing, Cats and musical opinions.

A more casual compilation this time as I desperately try to make some room in my inbox. I went back so far I found lore questions and art prompts that I really liked but had completely forgotten about... That's why it's a mess in there LOL I will hopefully get to those soon!

Hi! Thank you! I still dream about smoking almost every night and had a couple during the new year but I'm hanging in there :')

Very loose and mostly as a bit. It might be something that I explore more in the future, but as of right now their "canon" setting is far, far more interesting to me!

...That's brutal and highly accurate 😭

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

I'm not gonna lie, when I started posting I got, uh, a lot of responses like this to my art. About how I drew people "ugly" and frightening and even though it MOSTLY was meant as a compliment, it got kinda... Overwhelming 😅 It definitely led me to do a 180 for a while and re-access how I wanted to draw people. I love drawing flaws but I think that comes from not really seeing them as flaws, so the amount of folks AGGRESSIVELY harping on it did eventually get to me a little bit.

I think I've since found a pretty good balance between simple, pretty and "flawed" that I enjoy, though. So, thank you! I do take your message as a compliment and I'm glad you enjoy him.

DU drow was my first run! I have since played with a different character called Izzantar who was my first non-urge campaign though.

...

... I didn't find scratch in the DU drow run. Sorry anon LOL

Now you see, this is the legacy I want to leave behind.

(thanks for making Astarion feel included)

I was the one who recommended it to him and I really liked it! I've always DREAMED of a game that actually and unapologetically put you in the shoes of a shitty person and took you through the complex reasons why they are the way that they are without justifying their actions. And I adore the way the secondary character undeniably had a hand in the tragedy that unfolded despite his good intentions. The game sincerely explored the types of flawed characters I rarely ever see explored and I can only give it my sincerest kudos to it.

I've been considering playing Origins on stream after MANY recommendations, actually!

I would suggest examining and referencing off athletes and gymnasts videos for practice while trying to garner a more in-depth understanding of musculature by crossreferencing that stuff with dry, medical anatomy diagrams. I have a few more in-depth examples and advice in my #tutorial and #advice tags!

DU drow would really like Frida. Jarboe would constantly disappoint him by being the very dumb animal that she is.

I think Astarion would like both of them but complain endlessly about how much attention they demand and how up in his business they'd want to be - I have a feeling he likes street cats, which none of my cats are (Frida has a little street-smarts remaining but has been thoroughly spoiled by now. Jarboe was a hoarder cat before I adopted her and is extremely sociable and un-cat-like because of it.)

I DM'd a single Call of Cthulhu session in my teens and only recently participated in my first ever DnD game in a discord event! That's about it.

This is for the over-attentive ANE readers but Brutus is a Dalyria song for me ☺️

He'd like Jazz A LOT.

But I think he'd be more of a root-punk/post-rock guy, not really into synth. And then a lot of the classics like Elvis, Nina Simone, Marley, etc.

Also Foetus and GG allin for whatever reason.

3 for Astarion, 5 for Shadowheart. Jaheira would never but she could get away with 8.

#ask compilation #ask

130 notes · View notes

dreadsuitsamus · 1 month ago

Text

Behind Blue Eyes | Link x Reader |

author's note: i've been on a big twilight princess kick lately and it inspired me to pick this wip back up. i had it around halfway done in 2023 but never actually finished it, nor did i write down my plan so i kinda had to try and read my own mind lmao n e way i hope you all like this and have a great day 🩷

pairing: link x fem!reader

warnings: slight canon-typical violence, link is also only a wolf in this, slight angst and a bit of comfort

It's a dark night in Ordon, the stars hidden behind the cloudy sky and effectively ruining your favorite spot in the small village. Link's house holds the single best stargazing spot in the world, you think, even though you've never set foot past Faron. There's just no way anywhere else could ever match the raw beauty of the countryside village.

There's an ache in your heart that accompanies your wistful sigh— it's been a couple of weeks since the children and Link were kidnapped by those invaders. It's far too quiet in the village, and the worry in your mind has you on edge during every waking moment. Are the kids alive? Is Link? Surely your dear love is doing something to save himself and the kids! It's always been in his nature to be the protector, the fixer of all problems and it's one of the several qualities that drew you to him so long ago.

With a huff, you begin making the descent down the ladder and the hairs at the back of your neck stand the moment your feet touch the ground. The clouds part for just a sliver of moonlight, and when you turn your head you're met with the dark, angry eyes of a growling coyote. Fear strikes your heart and you stumble back, tears filling your eyes as the beast approaches you. You're all alone, no sword or anything to defend yourself with in sight, and any scream you could attempt mustering out wouldn't possibly alert the other villagers of the danger before you've met with your terrible fate.

The coyote jumps with a ferocious roar, and you scream as your arms fruitlessly raise to shield your face. "No!"

There's an ugly, absolutely hideous roar and a wolf jumps out at the coyote during its ascension above you, tackling it aside and saving you, if only for the moment. Your entire body trembles in fear and tears slip past your tightly shut lids. The wolf saved you from the coyote, sure, but what's to stop the wolf from attacking you himself?

It's quiet and the only sound other than your soft whimpers is what seems like a chain clanking against itself on the ground. Surprisingly, you're not dead yet. What sort of wolf is this? Daring a quick glance from your curled up knees, you look ahead to see the wolf sitting patiently, watching you carefully as you slowly come to realize the lack of a threat.

"A wolf with blue eyes?" You mumble, the moon casting just a little bit of light on the animal. There are strange markings on its head, and… Earrings? Who in the world pierced a wolf's ears??

The wolf whines, the noise a high-pitched and frankly desperate sound. Those striking blue eyes are awfully sad, and you glance at the broken chain on its leg. "Who did this to you?" You ask softly, the wolf lowering himself to the ground and watching you approach.

Your heart beats in your throat as you stupidly, willingly approach the animal. You can practically hear Link yelling at you to get away from it and go somewhere safe, but something about this wolf is too alluring for your sensibilities. Your hand shakes as you reach out to it, but he remains entirely still as you brush your fingers over the markings on his face. Those blue eyes watch you intently, and something about them is all too familiar.

"Thank you for saving me." You whisper. "You best get out now, before someone from the village comes." You start to turn towards the ladder that takes you to Link's front door, but the wolf nudges his snout to your hand with a whine.

Frowning, you look back down at him. "I can't do anything about your chain."

The wolf takes great care as his teeth tug at your dress, gently pulling you a few steps away from the house. He releases and backs up towards the path to the holy spring, and once you're surely following him he books it to the home of the Ordona deity, where the moon shines brightest despite the cloudy night. The water of the spring is clear, the white sand practically glowing as it does most nights. It's no wonder this spot is the most romantic in all of Ordon and the one you and Link always frequent; his eyes just look so pretty here, not that you tend to see them during the frenzied lip locking you inevitably end up in during those visits to the spring.

Once there, the wolf gnashes his teeth into the wood of the gate, closing the repaired big doors over as best as he can. It's during this odd attempt for what seems like privacy that you take a moment to study the beast, now that there's more light to do so. He seems strong, and is much bigger than that coyote was by at least two times. Wolves aren't a very common sight at all in Ordon, though Rusl and Link have surely seen them in Faron Woods when they're off collecting firewood for the village.

Invaders or visitors alike hardly ever come to Ordon; the small province is quite closed off, being only accessible by a rather rickety bridge connecting the sides of the wide chasm between your side and the rest of the world. For him to be here is certainly out of the norm, though him being friendly is even rarer.

“You've come a long way, haven't you?” You murmur, noting the injuries littering his body. He's probably used the last good bit of his strength just to save you, and he must have had to pass by the Faron Spring to get here with these injuries. That's nothing if not rife with intent.

This wolf wanted to come to Ordon, to this spring in particular. It wasn't enough for the healing waters of the Faron Spring, and he also knows of the tiny healing spring that's hidden in the province. A blue eyed beast…

He lays down in the shallow water, though it's more of a slump than anything. His sigh is peaceful, grateful even as the warmth of the spring begins to heal him and rejuvenate his body. There's a bit of a nasty gash behind his ear, though, and surely germs are frothing at the mouth to infect it. This poor thing has gone through something absolutely hellish… And you do owe him your life.

Steps still tentative despite the debt, those blue eyes open up as you near closer. Your hands shake as you hold them up, indicating your intentions to be true and just as you lower yourself beside the wolf and collect the gentle water in your cupped hands. “You have a cut.” There's really nothing to indicate that this wolf can understand your words, but he seems to have such an innate understanding of everything else that it only seems natural to communicate with him.

The water wets his dark fur, seeping into the injury as you carefully trickle the water from the opening gaps in your fingers. His soft-looking ear twitches a few times, the large paw on the same leg as that awful chain coming to rest carefully on your leg. He's quite… Gentle, for an animal. Not even ten minutes ago was he tearing apart a coyote (in your stead) and now he's turned around and practically become a lap dog.

It's quiet as you help heal the wolf, the only sounds in the air coming from the water as you take scoop after scoop to tend to each wound. The night is chill, but his massive warmth as he rests his head on your leg soothes it away. His comfort dares to border on familiar, and there's just something so…

You can't quite place your tongue on it. But he's friendly, that's for sure.

“I think that's all of them.” You speak softly, tiredly even as you gently rake your hands through his fur for any more wounds. “Do you feel better?”

He stands then, stepping back a few feet to shake off the excess water. It's not quite far enough, however, and you throw your hands in front of your face to protect it from the droplets the beast shakes off. Your clothes aren't too terribly drenched from it, but you'll be changing out of them the moment you go home anyway. They're all sandy and covered in wolf fur now!

The wolf whines a bit, nudging his wet nose against your cheek. You laugh a bit, holding his face gently. “It's okay.”

It almost seems like he's smiling now as he drags that pink tongue along the side of your face in some gesture of affection or thanks. It's honestly gross, but you find you don't mind once you're having another look in those blue eyes. He whines desperately again, closing the gap between you and resting his head on your shoulder. It's like a hug, of sorts, and you've never known an animal, let alone a wild one, to act so lonely. Wolves do run in packs, you suppose… So where are his friends?

“What're you doin’ here, hm?” It's perhaps a little odd to hug him back, but frankly after the last two weeks you've spent worrying about your boyfriend and the village kids, it's nice to have comfort, even if it is from a wolf.

The chain clinks against itself as he moves his paw, pressing it right against your chest. Frowning, you pull back and take it carefully. Perhaps he's got a thorn or something stuck in it and it's hurting him. Lord knows you're experienced in that area; there's no telling how many times you've carefully extracted splinters and bee stingers from Link’s hands, arms and general body.

Time slows to a near standstill, the water gently waving in the slight breeze the only thing reminding you that this is real life. There's no thorn in this paw, no… But rather a familiar mark on it, one so unique you've only seen it on one other being. A person.

Link.

A blue eyed beast.

“How did this happen to you??” It's baffling, so ridiculous it could hardly be true! But that birthmark… “Link…”

Link merely whines, and of course he does. It's not as if he can speak to you! Trapped in a beastly form… How horrible, how impossible… How could your quiet, peaceful life suddenly be turned so upside down? Tears fill your eyes and you caress his face sweetly, not even a shred of fear in your body now. Link would never hurt you, after all. Pressing your forehead against him, two tears slip and sink into his fur.

His tongue gently laps against your cheek, decidedly less slobbery than his first show of affection. He always has used a bit of tongue during kissing, but not quite like this. Still, a small laugh bubbles from your chest and you kiss his forehead sweetly. “My love… What in the world have you gotten into?”

Link merely sighs, leaning desperately into your touch. The size and strength of this strange form is new to him, clearly, as he knocks you right onto your back with his weight. “Oof!”

You're covered in wolf kisses now as he tucks into your side, giving his love like it's the last of it. Gentle whines desperately litter your skin alongside blatant sniffs, as if he's trying to remember your scent on a level he's never had to before. Perhaps he is; a wolf’s nose is sharp, and while you'd never entertain the possibility prior to tonight, the scent of you may be all Link has to keep him sane. He's here in this form for reasons unknown to you, but there's a very simple truth that trickles into your heart.

He's going to try and fix everything, because that's just who he is. And he's very likely not in Ordon to see you, though it doesn't seem this detour of plans is particularly bothersome. You'll have to realign his focus; he's got work to do. The same sentiments echo on those early mornings when you kick him out of bed when he's unwilling to go to work, so this isn't much different… That's the lie you do your best to believe as you hold his furry face carefully between soft palms.

“Thank you for being safe, and for saving me from that coyote.” Link responds with a defiant grunt, as if to scoff at you. He'd never accept thanks for that; it's his duty, in his mind. You're the one he loves most of all, after all. How could he not protect you?

“Don't give me that.” Your chiding is so gentle alongside a finger against the tip of that wet nose. “Clearly it's not safe right now, so I'm going to be more careful, and make sure everyone else is too. Rusl tried to save you and the kids… He got hurt real bad. And I don't want you worrying about me or any of us back here in Ordon, so I'm gonna get those oldheads into shape, give ‘em curfews and that kinda stuff. And while I do that, you're gonna promise me that the next time I see you, I'm gonna see you. Okay?”

Link nods, and there's resolve in his eyes now. It's much better than the beaten down wolf he was an hour ago, and he follows your lead out of the spring and to the clearing outside of his home. Those blue eyes sparkle once you've given the top of his head yet another sweet kiss, and perhaps he hasn't enough shame in him as you climb the ladder up towards bed.

The sounds of the chain beat against the ground as he heads into the village, and the next time you happen upon blue eyes, their promise is kept.

#link x reader #link x you #tp link #zelda imagine #twilight princess imagine #x reader #x you #fic

101 notes · View notes

ancientnapdragon · 2 months ago

Text

While I'm finalizing my rough draft for the food peak au, I might start doing a significantly shorter little fic based on an idle thought.

So, like, SY is the biggest LBH apologist to ever exist. But what would it take to make SY hate him? I mulled it over for a while and allowed evil seeds to take root in my brain.

It's gunna be omegaverse cause I feel like that can add some Flavor but I don't think it'll be super like sexualized. It's more an excuse for me to get parent SJ cause I'm still obsessed with him.

Some very rough ramblings about the vague plot and some of the characters below this read more!

How to Break Shen Yuan's Heart: kill his dad.

EZ. Fic over. Read More done!

Okay okay there is more than that.

SY is still a transmigrator but it's like repressed. He just does and says weird things sometimes. People just think he gets that from his mom. He's an Omega and grows up (mostly) on QJP.

His dad is SJ, who is an Alpha. Shocking, I know, since SJ is a very good MILF. But I think he deserves it for being my precious boy. SJ still has this like shit reputation before he gets Omegaverse Married. Which has this whole backstory to it. People 100% believed he forced himself on...

LQG, who is an Omega. Mr Bai Zhan is out here kicking all sorts of ass. The reason they "got together" was sort of a fuck or die thing on a mission, but it worked out. Somehow. Anyway, he is SY's mom. Usually, in cross-Peak births, the mother's Peak would take in the baby, but BZP is too dangerous and LQH away on hunts too often. So SY is mostly raised on QJP.

SJ is a Good Dad. SY knows both his parents love him and would do anything for him, but SJ is like Prime Dad Material. Everyone is kinda weirded out when they realize that Mr Catty Trauma Bitch and Mr Grunts for Communication made such a sweet kid. SY has no idea why people dislike his dad and is like his number 1 defender.

SY is a little overprotected because he's kinda sickly but he's clever and been working on training and stuff since he was a kid thanks to having two Peak Lord Dads. He can be a bit of a badass in this AU since he deserves it and we're putting him through a villain arc. What good is a weak ass villain??

So, SY lives on QJP and is like 11 when LBH is taken in as a disciple. They bond really quick and become friends! SY is still super oblivious tho that lil Alpha Binghe has a crush on him. I don't think any of the greater abuse happened because of SY, but there is still tension and some built up resentment for SJ from LBH by the time the alliance conference happens. SY finally gets a clue and gives LBH like the smallest good luck kiss and makes him promise to be safe and come back. But of course SY still pushes him into the Abyss and there is that whole thing.

SY is heartbroken 💔 but not in the way I WANT just yet. The stuff like LBH is in the abyss happens where he and SQH meet ZL and the seed stuff happens. (SY still doesn't know he's a transmigrator tho, SQH is just his weird uncle). The QJCity stuff happens with SJ getting accused and thrown in the water prison by LBH with his Trauma Encouraging Sword. SY is furious and, when he finds out it was LBH who did it, goes to HHP to confront LBH about it.

They get into like an argument over it and SY flatly rejects LBH's offer of a proper courtship since they're both of age now. LBH has been saving himself because he wanted SY to be his first and only. SY slaps him, says he hates him, and then runs off like crying.

THIS IS WHERE MAJOR CANON DIVERGENCE STUFF STARTS TO HAPPEN?? MORE SO THAN ALREADY??

SY runs off and ends up in the forest again where he first met ZL. And ends up in the cave like crying and hiding and upset. He doesn't wanna go back home because no one is doing anything to help his dad (they are, but SY doesn't see any of that). He ends up meeting ZL again and SY basically cries on his ugly snake form and like spills his guts about everything. He doesn't think that ZL can respond or anything!

Except when it's clear that SY is just gunna huddle up here and suffer, ZL starts to like feed him and brings him notes and stuff sometimes. The notes explain they're being transcribed by someone else but they're (mostly) ZL's words. SY gets curious and asks to meet the mysterious person. ZL is unsure but eventually shows him this tunnel system he's made for himself to slither through. SY has to like crawl through it and suffer claustrophobia before he ends up in this weird dark chamber. A man, who looks real fucked up, is like being crushed by all this stone. SY can only see his hands, feet, and head. The guy introduces himself as TL-J and even if he looks really bad he's at least still alive!

Some bonding stuff happens. SY like half lives down in that weird hole with TLJ and ZL and keeps tp himself. ZL will go and get them food and sometimes venture into town and hear rumors that TLJ will repeat back to SY (since he can't speak snake). One day TLJ repeats back something thay chills SY's blood: his dad is dead and it's LBH's fault. He has a breakdown. He has a qi deviation. He goes sicko mode. With the power of anime and bloodlust, SY takes some (demonic) Cultivation guidance from TLJ and breaks the array keeping him down there. They all run off together to go reclaim the Southern Throne in the demon realm. (And ZL finally has his cute body! Yay!)

Meanwhile, LBH DID kill SJ but it like wasn't 100% his fault. His mental illness eating sword has been ravaging his mind since SY rejected him. Demons started assaulting the area in full force around HHP (thanks ZL!) And it's all chaos. He's gotten MBJ under his thumb with his blood parasites but he's not gotten control of the rest of the demon realm yet. The demons seemed to be targeting SJ specifically, which makes it harder because LQG has ALSO been trying to bust in at all hours and save his husband. LBH went to SJ to try and force information out of him and had a Qi Deviation when SJ refused him. Then SJ exploded his Core to try and kill them both, but it didn't work exactly as planned. So LBH ended up having to leave since now he's accused of murdering a man waiting for trial (which kept being out off because of the attacks) and colluding with the demons who had been trying to break into the prison.

QCS does get SJ's body back this time, and SY is missing, and LQG is like constantly aggressive and causing problems. SQH is burying his head in his hands because how did his story end up this way?? MBJ visits him and and reports that there are problems with the Southern conquest. Two very powerful demons and their Cultivator pet are chewing through every feeble alliance they've managed to make and reclaimed territory like it's nothing. And those two demons? Also Heavenly Demons...

Okay so this is ABOUT as far as I've gotten in mulling stuff over? I have some loose threads on how I want it to end. SY is gunna go full like evil mode for a while tho. I think it would be really fun if maybe HE was the one who tried to combine the realms instead of LBH or TJL cause of how insane he gets for a while. I also like the idea that maybe ZL and TLJ aren't AS interested in being leaders so even if TLJ is TECHNICALLY the Southern Emperor, everyone refers to SY as the Empress (even if he's not claimed or married to either of them) because he's usually the one to handle stuff for those two. Putting all that cunning his dad taught him to work.

Plus, imagine being Binghe and finally beating your way into the throne room and you're crazy with heartbreak and grief. And the person sitting on the Throne is the guy who shattered you heart. Fucked up.

I think it will, ultimately, have a happy ending... but not without a super ton of angst first. Because I DO love me some angst.

Oh, and MOST IMPORTANT FACT, is that YQY is also an Omega cause he gets to be cucked from getting SJ in every way cause I'm evil.

OKAY TY FOR READING MY SLOP HAVE FUN EXPECT THE FIC EVENTUALLY LMAOOOO

#svsss #shen yuan #bingyuan #liujiu #omegaverse #wtf is sj and lqg ship name on here?#anyway doesn’t matter #this is more like a side project while i get the swing of writing everyone for the food peak au

86 notes · View notes

hoahoahoahoahoa · 3 months ago

Text

It's crazy how little you need to alter Rosalie's motivations to make her character make sense. Just make her fiercely protective of all humans, and by extension, Bella. She’s already most of the way there in canon; smeyer just harped on the weirdest details

In canon, Rosalie’s beef with Bella is framed as her being unhappy with choices Bella makes regarding her own body (endangering it by being with Edward, then willfully forfeiting humanity). That’s… odd. And canon even kinda acknowledges it, hand-waving her issues away with “oh that Rose, she’s just stubborn, she’ll do some brooding in the background”. Even the reveal of Rose’s backstory feels very guilt-trippy without actually offering Bella any perspective applicable to her own situation. Like, I love the drama of Rose’s story, but… why

She has an eternal chip on her shoulder from the circumstances of her turning. She’s covetous of humanity. Let that be the focus instead: defending the weak. She can still be opposed to Bella and Edward's relationship because it's still dangerous for Bella and the Cullens for her to know of and be involved in vampire affairs. Just have her be against Bella's turning because the odds are so stacked against vegetarian vampires having a completely clean record. Even with all the help from the Cullens, there's no guarantee that Bella will never, ever slip (yes it's hypocritical of Rose since she asked to have Emmett turned. Emmett's slipped at least twice, maybe she considers that blood to be on her hands!), and who are they to decide that Bella never dying is worth even a single murder? Vampires are so powerful in Twilight, creating one is essentially creating a WMD and hoping for the best. Have Rose be the one to bring up the ugly details of vampirism that Edward tries to hide when he’s in that denial about the possibility Bella ever changing

You don't even need to erase the bit about her coveting Bella's humanity and resenting Bella willingly throwing it away. That still fits. Making her a brutal realist about the greater consequences of making a new vampire just gives her more depth, and serves a purpose in the narrative by making Bella think harder about becoming a vampire (I’m sorry but canon missed out on some JUICY tension by having Bella never doubt her desire to change).

“Yes you’d love forever and we’d help you not kill people, but are you ready for the responsibility if we fail, since this is your choice?” feels more fulfilling than “you had a choice that I didn’t have and you’re not choosing what I would choose >:( I wanted babies and I’m mad you’re giving that up despite never indicating a desire to have babies yourself >:(“

Also. Is it not more believable for a character in her position to instead have such a dramatic resistance to Edward pursuing Bella to the tune of “you leave that innocent girl alone!!” instead of being… jealous over a guy in which she was never actually interested? Rose can still have the flaw of being vain, I’m all for characters having flaws, but why is vanity treated as her defining trait? This woman has a wicked sense of justice, let her use it

#this is a ramble and a half I’m sorry if it’s been edited into illegibility #twilight #rosalie hale #when I say Rosalie deserves better I mean she deserve to fill #potential that’s ALREADY THERE #it’s so frustrating #hoa5 #rewrite fodder

88 notes · View notes

hyperionheights · 2 years ago

Text

bones sexuality headcanons

yeah i dont have proof (except angela) i just Know. call it my lesbian spidey senses. disclaimer that those are MY headcanons, you can have your own opinions on those ofc

main characters:

brennan: bi (preference for ugly men... but i digress). she probably started exploring her sexual orientiation in college and came to the conclusion that she's attracted to every gender to varying degrees. she's probably tongue kissed angela a few times pre season 1

booth: cishet ally! ⭐️ he's a bit confused but he's got the spirit, i'll give him that.. bi wife energy start playing whenever he walks into the room

zack: gayboi with a bad case of hero worship for dr brennan. naomi from paleonthology made him realise this isnt really what he'd like to excavate, if you get the gist... ;) (ew)

angela: imo? bi, but it's up to anyone. canon queer and i'm very happy about it

hodgins: bi. putting my foot down on this one- to me, hodgela is bi4bi. one day early into the series angela goes "why is everyone so hot... being bi is so hard" and hodgins is like "yeah, tell me about it" and they have a Oh, You Too? moment

cam: distinguished (ex-disaster) pan. she's all cool and collected now but in middle school she was probably stuttering whenever she saw a pretty girl

sweets: pan. boykisser. i just KNOW. that man is not heterosexual. probably had a few boyfriends in high school too

aubrey: bi? preference for women but in an alternate universe he and sweets are a thing

goodman: token straightie along with booth except i actually like him even tho even tho he took a 2 month sabbatical and never came back

squinterns:

clark: bi. a bit repressed and only realised it after breaking up with nora but as long as he gets there it's fine

daisy: pan. absolute girlkisser. she has the wlw equivalent of whatever zack felt for dr brennan. swaisy is a disaster pan couple.

fisher: pan- and i wont have it any other way. he was 100% checking sweets out when he came over to b&b's in s8, so i like to think when hodgins asks sweets "what is it with you and interns?" in 9x23 he's including fisher

wendell: bi and in a lab au he's dating vincent thank you

vincent: english twink and i think he and wendell should kiss in the lab lost & found

arastoo: straightie but we still love him. pan wife energy since he and cam are married

finn: god, i have No Idea but i have a feeling he doesn't either

wells: aro, and maybe ace too, but fyi even if he wasn't no one would want him

jessica: ... i used to say lesbian but i kinda let the jaubrey of it all get to me... pan vibes perhaps? i'll have to think it over. in another universe she and daisy are a thing too btw

other characters:

caroline julian:... lesbian. no i will not give an explanation for this one. sham marriage and all.

karen delfs: big pansexual energy coming from this random profiler?? i like her

villains: (do not take those seriously, but also...)

pelant: unlabeled. getting strangled by hodgins awoke something in him but he didnt have the time to figure it out between 8x01 and 9x04

taffet: very VERY mean lesbian

epps: heterosexual incel

broadsky: internalised homophobia over booth, clearly

kovac: the man pretended to be married to his sister. i'm not sure i even wanna know

492 notes · View notes

thehighladywrites · 1 year ago

Text

Azzie, I think your mom is super hot…

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ Pairing: Azriel x reader, Rhysand makes a cameo, Cassian is mentioned, and Azriel’s milfy mom is the star of the show

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ Summary: Azriel introduces reader to his mother for the first time during Solstice. She develops a tiny crush on his mother and he finds the whole thing funny. Rhysand reminisces about the time he and Cassian called Azriel’s mom a milf and got their asses kicked. fluff, crack, so cute, az mom is just- wow…

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ Author’s note: Listen, I wrote this in the span of about an hour so it’s not really a masterpiece but I still love it. Also this is so relatable bc Azriel is canonically beautiful, like drop dead gorgeous and we all know he didn’t get it from his ugly ass father, so I headcanon that his mom is identical to him, resulting in readers innocent crush on her.

Azriel looked at you with disbelief as he closed his dropped jaw. “ You have a crush on who now?”

Nervous laughter escaped you as you averted your gaze. Azriel had disclosed that his mother was alive, when he caught onto your habit of referring to her in the past tense. Unbeknownst to others, she was alive, with only Cassian and Rhysand knowing. After Azriel spilled that he usually spends Solstice with her, Sorine, his mom, went all out, cooking up a feast when she learned he was bringing his mate over for the first time. The moment you met her, you were totally floored, and your face lit up like a festive candle.

She was a carbon-copy of your mate and they were equally beautiful. It was like looking at a female version of Azriel. Her looks paired with her kindness and caring nature made you develop a tiny crush on her.

"Well, look who Azriel brought to brighten our home! Come here, both of you. I've been eager to meet the one who's captured my son's heart."

Smiling, you and Azriel exchanged glances before approaching her. "Thank you for having us. I've heard so much about you. It's truly an honor to be here." Azriel softened by a hint of a smile, added "Mother, It's about time you met the person responsible for bringing some light into my life."

Azriel's mother, Sorine, observed you for a moment, a twinkle in her eyes. "My, Azriel, you didn't mention just how beautiful your mate is. You've got a good eye."

You, feeling a bit bashful, stammered out a heartfelt thank you, your cheeks warming. And it certainly didn’t help when she gave you a hug, her scent reminding you of your mate. Azriel, standing beside you, couldn't help but chuckle at your adorable blush, whispering, "Told you so," as his mother's compliment lingered in the air.

Presenting her with the basket of treats and gifts, you eagerly explained each item when she asked. " Heavens, thank you so much, sweetie. What a thoughtful gift," she exclaimed, kissing your cheek and flashing you Azriel’s infamous smile. Heat prickled your face, you averted your eyes, replying, "Oh, no problems, Ms. Sorine." Her heartfelt laugh filled the room, and she insisted you called her Sorine when you returned to the dinner table to start the meal.

Azriel noticed you squirming at dinner, not being able to fully look in Sorine’s eyes. Curiosity peaked in him, resulting in him pulling you aside when she went to prepare dessert. He gripped your chin and waited nervously for you to answer while a million thoughts ran through his head.

Was it too early to meet her? Did you like his mother? Why did you not keep eye contact with her? Was this a mistake?

All of his unease dissipated when you confessed to him about your unexpected, lighthearted crush on his mother.

“It’s embarrassing because I don’t want her to think i’m weird but I kinda have a teensy, tiny crush on your mother. Look, it’s no big deal but she is so beautiful and hot and I can’t help it. She’s so kind to me and I love her so much. And no wonder you’re a stunner, you totally stole your looks from your her.”

Azriel couldn't help but burst into laughter at your confession. Seeing the humor in your silly crush, he reassured you with a warm smile, "Don't worry, love. It's adorable, and I'm flattered. My mom will probably find it amusing too. Nothing to be embarrassed about."

Amused, Azriel gently cupped your face, his eyes filled with affection. "Besides," he continued, "it's endearing that you're so genuine. My mom will love you for who you are, crushes and all." He leaned in for a tender kiss, trying to ease any lingering unease. "Just be yourself because she started loving you the moment I mentioned you. She also threatened to do not so nice things to me if I ever hurt you."

A sigh of relief mixed with joy escaped you as Azriel's mother walked in, bearing a tray of delightful desserts. The atmosphere lightened, and you gradually let go of any remaining awkwardness. Engaging in conversation, you found a genuine connection with your mate's lovely mother.

As she shared stories, advice, and warmth, you felt a growing appreciation for the woman who had played a significant role in Azriel's life. Her care and protective instincts became evident, and you couldn't help but hold her in high regard for what she and Azriel went through. This shared moment cemented a bond that went beyond the initial nerves, leaving you grateful for the wisdom and love she gave.

As the evening wound down, and the shared laughter and stories reached their natural end, you exchanged heartfelt goodbyes. Standing, you gave Azriel's mother a warm hug, expressing gratitude for her hospitality and wisdom. She reciprocated with a genuine smile, her eyes reflecting the warmth of her soul.

Azriel, too, embraced his mother, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. The love and protection woven into their connection were palpable. Together, you left, hand in hand, carrying the echoes of a memorable evening filled with laughter, reassurance, and the comforting embrace of family.

The door closed behind you, leaving the night to cradle the shared moments as you ventured back to your own home, hearts full and spirits lifted.

————-—————-————-

In the days following the dinner with Azriel's mother, you found a moment to catch up with Rhysand. Curiosity tugged at you, and you couldn't resist addressing the unspoken aspect of the evening.

"Rhysie," you began, a playful glint in your eye, "I couldn't help but notice you didn't mention anything about Azriel's mother's beauty. I mean, come on, it's like a family trait."

Rhysand chuckled, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Well, dear Y/n, I've learned that when it comes to Azriel's mother, some things are better left unsaid. Besides, beauty, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder."

You rolled your eyes, sensing there was more to his response since he always gave a weird poetic expression whenever he was trying to deflect. "Spill, Rhys. I know there's a story there."

With a theatrical sigh, Rhysand leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Let's just say Azriel has a well-deserved reputation for being quite protective. I may have complimented his mother once, long ago, and let's just say he made it clear that some subjects are off-limits. Actually, me and Cassian called her a milf and he beat us up.”

You burst into laughter, imagining the stoic Azriel fiercely defending his mother's honor.

"That sounds about right, atleast I know what not to call her.”

Rhysand winked, "Smart move. Now, any more family secrets you want to find out about, or shall we leave the mystery intact?"

With a smile, you decided to leave the mystery for another day, content with the warm meeting with his mother.

459 notes · View notes

sl-walker · 5 months ago

Text

Booster's Queer af

Something I wrote on Reddit on a thread asking 'what's your DC hot take??', because if you're gonna kick a hornet's nest, kick it with your best steel-toed boots and then smile:

Booster's queer. That man hasn't come across as straight-- ever. Like even when I started reading DC in 2003, he came across as queer to me, pretty much from his inception. Seriously. He comes across like someone closeted and decidedly not-straight who just stays in the closet initially because it was a very bad time to be anything other than heterosexual when he landed in the past and later because it's habit and expected of him. I don't think he's gay, I think he probably leans pretty pansexual or maybe even demisexual, but any which way, you'll never convince me he's not at least a little bit queer. He's had one in-universe romance that hasn't been retconned (Firehawk) in his entire time existing and one that was a joke and maybe not even real canon (Gladys). After almost four decades. His thing with Firehawk lasted, I think, like less than a year, too. I'm pretty sure you can count his on-panel kisses on one hand, but not more than two. He's never had a 'morning after' scene. The one seriously emotionally intimate relationship he has is with another guy. When he does flirt or attempt to, it comes off as being awkward and a bit desperate and a bit like a man who is kinda using it as cover. And like-- that really makes way more sense for him than anything otherwise. I'd sincerely hope by the 25th century that we'd stop giving a damn who loves or wants whomever else based on gender presentation. It also makes for a pretty compelling tale, a guy getting dropped into the middle of the AIDS epidemic learning a very quick and ugly lesson about what happens to queer folk in this time period. I dunno how hot a take this is, though, because at least some people up top agree (he's canonically hooked up with Ted in Teen Titans Go! and like-- any time Tom Taylor writes them, he all but says it aloud), but if TPTB were brave, they'd finally confirm it mainline. Like you don't even have to ship him with Ted (though that's my preference), just confirm he's queer. Here's my essay. What's my grade? LOL!

Since it's relevant, tho, here's a few pieces I wrote from a long email back and forth (since us old people still do that) with another very long-time fan of his a couple weeks ago:

But anyway, to me, he acts about like how a kid who got dropped into the 80s during the height of the AIDS panic and rampant homophobia and the wholesale death of gay men might, especially if he were queer himself. I'd probably try to straight-wash myself, too, in his boots. (I remember that time period, if distantly. I didn't realize I was queer myself until I was well into my 20s, despite falling in very desperate and intense love with another girl when I was 12. I do remember being in high school when a boy was murdered for being queer by being tortured and left tied to a fence to die, though. It was that kind of world back then for people like us. In some places, it still is.) Still, where Booster fails at any hetero romance (oh god does he), he's so devoted to Ted that a big part of his second solo was dedicated to him either trying to save the man or actively mourning him. It's heartbreaking and amazing and really actually quite good stuff, from a literary POV. Whether DC meant it or not, somehow they managed to write one of the greatest love stories I've ever seen in a comic across most of twenty years, no kidding, and I've read a lot across a lot of companies, even back when I was a twelve year old girl and ridiculed for it. And not just a great queer love story, it's a great love story period. A person can make a credible argument for it being a one-sided -- romantic and therefore non-platonic -- love, but it's pretty hard to argue it's not a very intense one regardless.

And

I guess what I'm trying to say is: This is another read on him. And I think also a very valid one. He's one hell of an amazing character, I wish DC had handled him half as well post-Flashpoint than they did pre-Flashpoint, and I don't think a queer reading of him detracts anything from how amazing he is. If anything, I think it makes the older stuff several shades deeper (and so, so relatable, god), and I think if they decided to write him as explicitly queer now, not too many people would actually be all that surprised. With or without Ted. I can't really identify with Alan Scott, love him though I do, even though I can acknowledge that a generation of gay men likely could quite strongly. But I can identify with Booster Gold, who grew up poor and wrecked his future in part for love of family, who clawed his way out of poverty and fell back into it, who has brilliant and shining moments of courage and heart, and moments where he lands on his face, who was tough enough to survive a lot of shit but devastatingly vulnerable to exploitation, and who looks like a fellow queer kid who might've fallen for his best friend, but was surrounded by homophobia and hate and terror and buried that part of himself because the alternative might have been getting beaten and left tied to a fence to die.

#long post #michael carter #booster gold #boostle #legit tho #the eighties were fucked in so many ways #even in the very very early aughts #when i figured out i was queer myself #(and that i had fallen desperately in love with my own best friend years before)#it was still within very living memory #of that time and place

65 notes · View notes

feyd-meowtha · 5 months ago

Text

@middlingmay's Fic Rec Questions

I saw this list and thought it would be fun to give it a go!!

1) Fic that's made you laugh the most

He May Be The Reason by @c-goldthorn. It's a Clegan Notting Hill au and it makes me squeal with delight. So cute that I got distracted while reading it and missed my stop on the train.

2) A fic that made you cry

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder by pillar of our community @swifty-fox. I'm sure most ppl have probably read this one but it's such an amazing post-show continuation that really doesn't pull it's punches when it comes to both PTSD and the realities of being gay in the 40s

3) Fave comfort, silly fic

It's a little rogue but I'm gonna say Awake, Alive by the wonderful @whirlpool-blogs. It's a pet sematary au so not exactly what you would call traditionally comforting but the ending makes me so happy and the whole thing is just a joy. The fact that this came to mind when I thought 'comfort fic' is probably pretty telling about me as a person....

4) The fic that made you try a genre or trope that you don't usually read

This is also a bit rogue but it was tricky since I'll read anything, so I'll go with Strings of the Strings of Life by the lovely @weimarweekly, not because of any of the content but because I don't, as a general rule, read Dune fic that was written after Dune 2 released. I've bored everyone to tears with my complaints about that version of Feyd but it is what it is so I tend not to like any fics written about that version of the character BUT the prospect of a feydpaul Berlin techno au was too delicious to resist and the whole fic is so fun. It makes me miss Germany sooo bad.

5) An author who has inspired your own fic writing

This one has got to go to the anonymous author of both Close And Yet Closer and The Replacement. Both of these fics are god tier and their character psychology and willingness to allow their versions of the characters and relationships to be ugly and messy are so inspiring to me. They were also the first person in the John/Hausman tag on ao3 which is currently just me and them. I think about the replacement all the time and it was a HUGE influence on 3am Eternal. If I can ever write half as well as them I will die happy.

6) What are your fave underdog authors? Those that you feel are underappreciated and deserve a bit more love

Hmmm, this is kinda hard cus the MOTA fandom is pretty small so I feel like a lot of stuff gets decent buzz. Imma shout out @whirlpool-blogs again and especially their fucked up clegans fics, I have read and reread all of their works and they're always so so good. I will also add @steeseman for Up In Our Bedroom. It's another great post-canon fic and while it has a lot of hits, I don't think I've seen anyone talking about it on here.

7) What's one thing you wish writers/readers did more of when it comes to fanfiction.

The obvious one is comment, it really does make my day when I get a nice comment, even just a couple words or an emoji mean a lot. The other thing I would say is writing curt/Kenny fic, there's not much out there and I want more please. Also more fics where characters relationships are like genuinely kind of fucked up and toxic. I love that shit.

8) What's one thing you wish writers/readers did less of when it comes to fanfiction.

Oh man, I really do not know. The only thing I can think of is that I hate the word 'yap' or 'yapping' so if I see it in a fic I shudder. Hmmmm, I guess I also wish that there was a little more consideration when writing Gale's dad as an alcoholic because it's often treated as the basis for him being a shitty person. Addicts aren't automatically bad people and I sometimes feel like it's portrayed that way. @blixabargelds wrote an excellent post on this

9) I'm adding an extra one and that is current WIPs I am reading

Sympathy For The Devil by @blixabargelds, it's a modern ghost hunting AU and the set up is AMAZING. I will also throw Superstar in here even though it's not releasing main story chapters yet, everything Frankie writes is so tailored to my personal tastes it's crazy and I am so excited to read @mildharm's John POV chapters too. Literally foaming at the mouth thinking about it rn. When it starts being released fully, I fear it may kill me.

Love Song From A Dog and The Heart Is A Muscle by @swifty-fox. I've only just started THIAM but I'm so hyped for their take on the tattoo shop/flower shop au.

Hit Me Where The Heart Is by @london-cowboy makes me legitimately insane. I jump for joy whenever there is a new update, these versions of the characters and their stories are, as Paris Hilton would say, beyond. I do not have the words to say how much I am loving this fic. The characters and setting feel so real and it's just so creative. AMAZING.

I need to get around to starting let us not desert one another; we are an injured body and also the time skip fic whose name escapes me by @irregularcollapse and also catching up with @weimarweekly's rodeo fic, Looking For Eight

Writing this was very fun and I encourage anyone reading to give it a go if they fancy it!!

#mota #mota fic rec #hillyspeaks

42 notes · View notes

lemonjestercoffee · 1 year ago

Text

so i said something about alicorns being funky in my last mlp redesign post yeah? well before i get into that-

the beautiful bride and the ugly ass groom

okay okay jokes aside here's Shining's real sheets and Cadance on her own

starting off with design choice notes

Shining Armor - his was like- really hard to figure out and i didn't really know what i was doing, but i did like the concept of him having lost a leg in some sorts of battle. one thing i did know what i was doing with tho was his armor, i never really liked the canon armor so i decided to take my own stab at it. decided to make it cover the more important areas better, added gambeson underneath, put a royal crest on it, and gave them a head weapon. yes the metal horns are on all species armor, it's there not only to protect real horns from oncoming attacks but also give all soldiers an emergency weapon if they get disarmed. the tassels would be colored differently depending on rank

Cadance - the only through i really had going into her design was i wanted her to have a cloud and heart motif, but i'm unsure if the way i handled it is the best. her cutiemark is meant to resemble a Mexican sacred heart because deity of love- like come on. i also wanna kinda change the color of the carnation in her hair to stand out more, but white carnations have a different meaning so it's fiiiinee

okay now what we really wanna hear about, what the fuck did i do to the alicorns?

i decided to tamper with their lore quite a bit, as i was inspired to by the Skyscraper Gods Au by Shirecorn. now mine is no were near as drastic as that au, obviously, but it did inspire me to come up with my own quirks for them.

i went more "alicorns are more like the elves of ponies but because they can only be made by some unexplained rare mystical intervention and live for fuck off long, normal ponies see them as demigods of sorts". i've even given them things like groups or locations that they act as patrons of and prioritize above other things, but that stuff gets a little rambley so imma not do that on this post

for the anatomy tho, i can talk. i'll be using Twilight as a visual example because she's the one i've drawn in all stages

so basically the concept here is pretty similar to the canon, but with some funky add-ons.

first up- when an alicorn ascends, not only do they gain the wings/horn combo and grow an inch, they also gain some other unique anatomy from the other species.

Unicorn- along with the horn, they also receive the ear tip tufts i gave unicorns. these actually have a purpose, they're sensitive to magic energy and allow unicorns to tell where magic is coming from. depending on the unicorn they vary in sensitivity but alicorns are by far the most sensitive Pegasus- along with the wings, the get some of the extra feathers pegasai have on their bodies, namely the ones on their ankles that are used for finer trajectory adjustments in flight. they also receive the sensitivity of their hooves that's used to pick up changes in cloud texture and sense their stability Earth Pony- earth ponies may seem like they don't add shit, but they actually give two very important things. the first thing is a strength boost, as they're stronger than the other two pony species by nature. the other thing is dense as fuck hooves. that sounds kinda lame but they have rock hard hooves that allow for them to dig into dense materials and have a kick with some real bite in it that the others just can't replicate and might tear their own hooves up trying. they also add the visible fluff in the ear canal. but that's just a dust filter and if isn't cleaned properly might actually be more of hindrance

it's worth noting- if you look at Cadance and Twilight side by side- that despite being given extra anatomical traits from the other species they will always look more like the species they were before ascension. this is mostly visible in the ears, tails, and hoof shapes -unicorns have long tails with hair only growing from the underside, basic ears, narrower hooves, and usually have long fetlocks as part of their culture. -pegasai have short tails that are completely covered with hair and have rudder feathers at the base, pinned back feathery ears with restricted movement, and really shallow hooves with no fur around them -earth ponies have medium tails with even hair growth around a third of the way down, basic ears, and slightly taller hooves with varying fetlock sizes.

second up- the only uniquely alicorn physical traits that they really have (aside from height) are their hair and beards. unlike normal pony beards that are made of the same hair as their manes, alicorn beards are made of coat fur and will grow a specific length each year that marks how old they are kinda like tree rings. due to this the alicorns don't try to cut them. the manes are kinda funky cause they start out at the roots as normal hair, but then become more "ethereal" after a few inches or so. they tend to start to become ethereal roughly 10 years after ascension

they do have one more weird trait but it's less noticeable and that's the thing with the patterns. when an alicorn is first ascended they gain an extra pattern on their legs, and that pattern gains a second layer around the time they start to get their ethereal manes. you can see it happening on Twilight's lineup.

there's also a bonus thing here that has nothing to do with alicorns as much as it does unicorns- but i like the idea of Unicorn tails (flesh/bone, not hair) getting longer with age. it's usually not too noticeable because they don't normally live long enough for it to be really noticeable compared to younger unicorns, but alicorns do- so former unicorns can end up with some long ass tails in their 1000's

that's all i really got now- if i added in magic and social stuff this would have been way longer. i'm done with my rambles

#my little pony #mlp fim #mlp redesign #mlp headcanons #princess cadance #shining armor #twilight sparkle #kai doodles

133 notes · View notes

mitch-the-silly · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I’m new to your blog so I apologize if I requested anything wrong in this ask

Could I request a vox x reader where reader comes crying to vox and as he is trying to comfort her someone walks in which makes him switch up to kind and soft to mean and unfair towards reader at one point even pointing out her insecuritys on accident which makes reader cry more and kinda distance herself from him. How would vox feel and comfort ready after this?

Thanks and have An amazing day!

No no, it's ok! You'll find that I LOVE writing angst. It's honestly my area of expertise. And I LOVED this idea so much that when I was looking through my asks just now, I was like "Eh, lemme go to sleep" but I saw your ask and knew I could afford to sleep a bit later!

Anyway, mean Vox is very much real to me (mayhaps even canon)-

For extra angst, The one to walk in will be Valentino and some other Overlords (but mainly Valentino because I hate his goofy, bald ass).

Vox x fem!reader

Angst!!!

Warnings: Valentino (EWWWW)

"Roses are Made of Thons"

You felt distressed, only one person in this world could console you and you knew it. So you ran to his office and buried yourself in his chest. Your lover, Vox, held you close to him. He was caressing your face with gentle care. He was always so gentle and loving with you, so when he asked you what was wrong and you told him about your sorrows, you confided he’d keep to himself and help you.

“I… I tried my best, and I think I still look terrible! I mean, look at me… I just…” You sniffled, hiccupping from how desperate you were.

“Hey… hey… what did we say? I love you just the way you are. I think you’re cute, you don’t need to try to look good when you already look good.” He spoke, kissing your cheek.

“Really? Are you sure…? I just… I see all the models in your shows… and… I just…” You mumbled, tears threatening to stream down again.

“It’s just a show. And it's meant to appease those dirty fuckers who look like ugly fucking losers with absolutely zero contact with women. It’s not based on my standards…” He reassured you, kissing you again.

However, this would soon be gone, because the door to his office opened without a previous announcement, and storming in came Valentino along with some other overlords. “Ugh, Vox, I need you to settle something- Oh. Are you getting taken care of by your little putita?~” Valentino cooed at him, making fun of your relationship.

You knew he had a thing for Vox, and were very much aware he was salty that Vox had decided to be loyal to you. So it was obvious Valentino hated your guts despite you not really interacting with him.

“It’s nothing important, what do you need?” He smiled, wiping your tears and placing you on his lap. He held your head to his chest, trying to hide your lack of composure.

“Well, look, I had a few drug deals with these two, and I thought you’d paid them but- Vox… why is she moving like that?” Valentino paused, lowering his sunglasses and squinting at you attempting to see better.

“I already told you it was nothing. Are you gonna speak or not?” Vox scoffed, nudging you to stop it.

“She’s distracting me, Vox. Control your bitches or I’ll teach her how I control mine.” Valentino huffed, lighting his cigarette and rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, stop crying, I’m busy right now, go and cry somewhere else please.” Vox spoke, turning towards you, and pushing you off his lap. You tried to wipe your tears, but they kept rolling down your cheek.

Was this really what he was acting like right now? “V-vox but…”

“What is she even bitching about anyway? I bet it’s that outfit she had on. It’s not doing her any favors. I’d cry too if I was in that rag.” Valentino joked cruelly, the other overlords laughed… Vox did too.

“She’s just crying over her not looking good, cut her some slack!” Vox chuckled, and then he turned towards you. “Come on, I’ll get back to you once I’m done with this. Meet me in my room, sweetie.” Vox spoke casually, dismissing you completely.

You couldn’t believe it… he was just shoving you to the side. Giving you the cold shoulder over Valentino and the other overlords… He was making fun of you and even told them the one thing you told him not to say.

You felt hot tears roll down your cheek, and you ran out of the room. Ignoring Vox’s request to wait for him in his room. Matter of fact, you stayed in your own room for a couple of days, sulking, desiring to never see him again after what he’d done to you. You could hear him knock at your door, and try to make amends, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

After a few days, you finally decided to come out of your room. Vox had been watching your hallway’s cameras for the past few days, and the second he spotted you out, he zapped to where you were.

“Y/n! Please! Can we talk?” He asked as you turned away form him, still mad at him.

“Please, I know I acted like an asshole, but… I just… If I showed them a soft side they weren’t gonna take me seriously! My whole business is a fake image of myself! If I don't uphold it, I'm fucked! My whole empire falls apart!” He cried out, almost groveling at your feet.

“You… you didn't have to tell them that about me… what I was insecure about…” You mumbled, tears threatening to creep in again.

“I know! And… I… I’m sorry, I was a fucking idiot and I was just feeding Valentino’s little games. I’m way too used to it, but I… I need to work on it, just please… Please don’t leave me! I fucked up, ok? I’m human, please don’t leave me over something I regret doing!” He pleaded, walking closer to you and taking your hand. Begging you for forgiveness.

“I… I need a bit more time… but… I accept your apology…” You mumbled, looking away. “Don’t do that again…”

“I won’t, I promise! I’ll give you your time, just… please don’t cut me off… The days you didn't talk to me were miserable… Please… I can’t live without you…” He begged.

“I heard you the first time… I’ll text you, don’t worry…” You mumbled back, reentering your room.

It was sort of a win for Vox, but he’d gotten too carried away. He’d already made sure to cuss out Valentino for his behavior. But he really had to get his life together. He just knew that if he pulled another one like this, he’d lose her.

#hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #vox header #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox angst #vox x reader angst #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin angst #vox is just so bbg i swear #man-child vox is so real #man-child vox #valentino #valentino hate #valentino hazbin hotel

315 notes · View notes

thesharktanksdriver · 1 month ago

Text

DMC Netflix rant

K so this isn’t really my usual thing but as someone who recently got into devil may cry and was really looking forwards to the Netflix show I thought I’d air my thoughts on it because I have some opinions. I just wanna say I’m not a longtime fan but a newer one who started playing the games, I started with 5 and finished it and then started getting more into the games from there.

Just wanted to say before it all though this is my opinion and if you disagree that’s completely valid. If you had fun with the show I’m genuinely happy for you! Don’t let my opinion ruin it for you especially if you had a good time!. I don’t want to take something people found legitimate joy in and sully it. If you enjoyed it please move on from this post and enjoy the show. It’s just I have some gripes with it that I want to air out because I have some legitimate issues with it.

With that said spoilers for the show ahead and please do not harass the creators or other people over enjoying this show.

My likes

Animation

I loved the animation. I’d say for the most part it’s smooth and expressive when it needs to. There was some clear love and effort put into this and it shows. After watching the original DMC anime from 2007 and enjoying that but wishing it had a bigger budget, this is what I wanted aesthetic wise at least.

Dante

Personally I love Dante in this! He’s fun and goofy and reminds me of his dmc3 portrayal with him being more younger, cocky and inexperienced. It took a minute to get used to Nero’s voice with him but honestly I think it fits pretty well, like uncle like nephew lol. But genuinely though, Dante was fun and I loved him whenever he was on screen and kept me from dropping the show besides me hate watching it to the end. His ddr section and “who are we shooting at?” Sealed the deal for me.

Enzo

I 100% didn’t expect to love Enzo like I did but i was pleasantly surprised! I haven’t read the dmc novel where he showed up in but I have played bayonetta so I knew him mostly from there. His dynamic with Dante was really interesting, especially since Enzo seemed to genuinely care for Dante in his own way and Dante also cared for him too. He was plain fun and I was actually upset with his death and the callback to how he said he’d take a knife for Dante.

The references

Admittedly I’m a sucker for references but I really found it fun seeing Lucia. The references I didn’t expect but loved even more though were the capcom references! The raccoon city mention, the megaman statue, street fighter arcade machine etc. I wasn’t really expecting references to other capcom materials but I was super happy they got thrown in.

The white rabbit

A genuinely great villain! I was really intrigued he got picked as the main bad guy after seeing he was a throw off baddie from the dmc3 manga. Through the show he was an interesting and captivating through and through. At some points I even rooted for him. I have one grip with him but besides that he was a solid character for me.

The soundtrack

Solid soundtrack, I’m a bit nostalgic for 2000’s and 90’s music like green day, limp bizkit, etc because of my dad playing it when I was younger lol. Solid, and I enjoyed most of the song picks for it.

My dislikes

The cg

Oh god why did they do this???? The animation was great why did they go this route? Listen I get them having a budget and a deadline but it just doesn’t look good. It feels so jarring especially when you have the pretty 2d character beside the ugly cg demon, it also makes fights kinda nauseating to me at least.

Not knowing until now if it was canon or non-canon

This might just be me thing but I’m not sure if anywhere they explicitly said if this was going to be non-canon. This isn’t a big deal but it would’ve been nice to be told beforehand especially since for a month I lowkey thought that this was a canon entry before jumping into the show and realizing it wasn’t, being ok with that and it being a new portrayal and then seeing the rest of the show lol.

The Sparda was wrong thing

Ok so I don’t really get why their doing this especially when their making it seem like his decision was monstrous? Because if Sparda didn’t do that then humanity was gonna be screwed. And like I get what they’re trying to say but making it seem like a selfish decision feels like a big fuck you to sparda’s entire character. He went against mundis and everything he was taught up to that point to do the right thing even at his own expense. He loved humanity and was willing to sacrifice his standing and everything he had to potentially gain with staying at mundis’s side to ensure its survival. Something he’d continue to do when he went to form fortuna and help the protectors. That’s not even mentioning him meeting Eva and having Dante and Vergil, shedding his demonic form to be a father and husband. Though it’s not known in canon as to how exactly he died or when he seemingly disappeared it’s safe to say that with everything known about him he disappeared to save humanity and probably died in the end. So to say his decision is ultimately selfish and that Dante needs to fix the mistakes of his dad is really just…what?? And like I know it’s the rabbit saying this so it’s biased but still. Suddenly framing Sparda as wrong and selfish just feels really weird and kinda shitty.

Dante not knowing he’s part demon

I feel like this takes away from Dante’s character quite a bit. I’d say that a theme through the entire series is Dante’s struggle with his humanity and his in-humanity. I mean the entire song of “devils never cry” that’s in the end credits is about this. It’s also the reason why at least to me in the games seems to try and push people away . So it just feels weird? I think they were trying to explode that revelation in the show but it didn’t really feel like it. And like come on, you’re saying he seriously didn’t know when he was shot point blank in the chest with a shot gun and has superhuman senses and speed? Dante isn’t dumb, and it’s kinda insulting to his characters that they’re trying to make it seem like he genuinely is dumb if he hadn’t clocked that in.

The side characters

Besides Enzo, Dante and the rabbit mom of the other characters besides lady (I’ll get to her later) and maybe the vice president had any impact or interest from me. The minute I saw lady’s crew I immediately knew they were gonna die and I did not care for any of them to remotely feel anything. The only side characters I felt bad for were the demon refugees killed in the apartment complex and flashback scene

How they butchered lady

Quite honestly I don’t give a shit how people are upset lady was able to beat Dante, I couldn’t care less about that when her character was in my opinion butchered to meat clinging to a carcass. She’s so genuinely unlikable it makes me upset because I love dmc3 lady so much. Through the show I couldn’t give a shit about her when she was such an ass in such unredeemable circumstances. Like the fact she was lowkey being racist to Dante. And in some ways I get it, new version of her, and in dmc3 she was antagonistic to Dante there as well. But I think there’s a big difference there and it’s timing and action. In dmc3 she just lost her mom and wants revenge on her dad that nothing else matters, Dante is in her way and a nuisance in that goal that she lashes out until they have their genuine moments. Yes, she hates demons but her mother just died and now this guy who is clearly not human is in her way of killing her father. In the show though her dad turning into a demon and killing her mom happened years ago, and yes that hate hardened as years went on but I’d say her dmc3 portrayal makes her more sympathetic, she’s grieving and she’s a teenager. That brings me back to the show though and her decisions, specifically the fact that she killed a shit Tom of refugees (admittedly the situation was shit but how am I supposed to like her after that) and after learning that demons can be good along with how the government doesn’t value her or their people she decides to stab Dante in the back and hand him in to become a super solider. Honestly it feels like such a disservice to her character especially with her and Dante’s ending conversation of dmc3 of “devils don’t cry” once again cementing Dante’s inner struggle with being part demon and her responding (after disliking him most of the game up until now) saying “ I see. Maybe somewhere out there even a devil may cry when he loses a loved one. Don't you think?” Basically showing how she acknowledges his humanity. They’re probably leading up to a lady redemption arc but honestly I don’t care. They’ve made her almost unredeemable to me and it’s gonna take a lot of heavy lifting for her to ever be likeable in my eyes….and this isn’t even mentioning her constant swearing like the show is trying to remind you it’s a mature show-

The rushed pacing

Yet another thing that I can understand but I can’t help but feel as if nothing and then everything happened all at once. Like all the plot went from was catching Dante - plane scene - apartment complex - flashback episode - finale.

The villain was just some guy

Ok this is a smaller point but like, what do you mean the white rabbit was just some dude. I don’t think we even learned his name which I guess doesn’t matter but still. Couldn’t have had some more build up? Or maybe just made him full demon? If the rabbit head is a mask why is it so expressive?? I guess the blood transfusion stuff explains his abilities but making him full demon could’ve just been the easier option.

Plot holes that could have been fixed

Normally I wouldn’t really care for plot holes but there were some that felt really apparent to me. Like the government and that scientist just learned about demon’s existing but suddenly their already understanding demon magic and figuring out how the Sparda sword works? They could’ve just made it so that they’ve been aware of demons but kept it as a secret to not cause widespread panic. That would’ve made them suddenly understanding demons and the demon world a lot more reasonable. Idk it just feels like such an easy fix that would’ve made the world building a lot more realistic especially considering darkcore or whatever it’s called being a pre-existing entity up till this point. Another thing, I guess this wouldn’t be a plot hole but when is this set??? It has 90/00’s music along with I think a few background characters using old flip/brick phones but they have futuristic weaponry. It’s just a bit jarring in my opinion I guess.

Vergil

Admittedly I’m not the biggest Vergil fan but wtf. You make him a WILLING servant of Mundus??? And that was hill nelo Angelo form?? Huh????? You’re telling me the guy with such astronomically bad mommy issues joins the guy who murdered his beloved mom in cold blood joins him????. This undoes so much of his character, not even to mention it seems like they’re doing the whole jealous twin thing in that flashback sequence which misinterprets a lot of his feelings. He wasn’t upset because she gave Dante an amulet before him be was upset because he thought she chose Dante over him and left him to fucking die. Visions of v pretty much explains everything with “I also wanted to be protected”. That’s not even mentioning how being nelo Angelo mentally fucked with him for years, giving him permanent trauma he purged from himself and woudl lead up to dmc5 and how desperate he is for power. Him being Nelo Angelo unwillingly I’d say is a big plot point for him and making him willing undoes a lot. Just boiling him down to “jealous mom liked Dante more” and willing working with mundus undoes so much of his character. Maybe they’ll explain it, but until then he’s on my dislike list for how they portrayed him so far.

Politics

Firstly as a disclaimer I’m not American, I’m Canadian so maybe take this with a small pinch of salt especially with international relations right now. But uh, I find it a bit weird how the creator Adi Shankar was at the trump inauguration and made the vice president villain look like Biden? And then make a whole thing about government bad, we need to save refugees and bombing hell to colonize for resources when considering what said president he was partying with is doing now??? Idk, I’m not educated enough in American politics to understand everything but personally I find it kinda hypocritical he’s making this commentary while he’s in a certain someone’s pocket.

Overall I’m just disappointed. I’m not really sure what else to say. I was really looking forward to the anime and I’m really let down. I guess that’s my fault for putting faith into something but it just kinda sucks to have your hopes dashed especially after good adaptations like castlevania. If you’ve read this far thanks for reading my rant, feel free to share your opinion as well.

#dmc #devil may cry #devil may cry anime #devil may cry netflix #rants

30 notes · View notes