#and he's allowed to fail! but it doesn't mean he hasn't. you know. like i wanna be so clear there's no love lost. there's no hard feelings

[melbatron5000]

Heartache

Since I put up my theories that Crowley and Aziraphale faked the break up in the Final Fifteen, I've had a LOT of people comment, "Then why are they so sad?"

LISTEN.

Imagine you and the person you love most in the world have to keep your relationship secret. Because no one would approve of it, and one or the other of you could be hurt or killed or imprisoned over it. So you keep it casual, and have to pretend you're not even friends.

Then you get a chance to change everything. You get a chance to save the world, and maybe have that relationship you both want so badly together. You even plan your proposal. You throw a big party and make it as romantic as you know how.

Then your party gets crashed by people who hate you.

And then an authority -- one that has the power to make both your lives horrible and maybe end them -- comes sniffing around. He's figured out you're up to something, and that you've teamed up, and been teamed up for a while. He maybe suspects you're more than friends, when even friends is something you are not allowed to be. He essentially black mails you into coming back with him, to what essentially amounts to prison, though he offers that your love can come with you. You'll both be in prison, and maybe not be able to save the world, but you'll be together, and safe.

You tell the person you love most in the world what's going on, that your plan has been uncovered, and beg him to come with so he will be safe. And your beloved says, "No, I'm not going, I want to fight for this. I want to fight for you, and for us. I want to save the world. We need to pretend to break up so I can keep working on our plan. You do what you can from inside prison, and I'll do my best from here, and let's try for this. For us." And then he breaks your heart and forces you to reject him. While your enemy watches and waits to take you to prison. And he doesn't let you leave without kissing you first. He gives you something while he kisses you that he hopes will help you. And then he goes.

Imagine your beloved tells you an authority has come sniffing around -- he suspects you're up to something and wants to haul you both to prison. Your beloved has no choice, he absolutely is going to prison, right now, but he wants you to come with him. You want to fight, you want to be free with your beloved and you want to save the world. So you tell him you have to fake a break up in order that one of you can stay free and hopefully make it work. And then you break his heart, and force him to reject you, while your enemy watches and waits to take him to prison. And you do not let him leave without kissing him first. You give him something while you kiss him that you hope will help him. And then you leave.

If you could do that while feeling nothing, totally confident that you're still a couple and everything is actually fine, you've got a different head than me. I wouldn't be okay, watching my husband get taken to prison for the crime of being in love with me. I certainly wouldn't be okay pretending not to care, or like we never meant much to each other after all.

The break up is fake. That doesn't mean any of those emotions are.

It actually makes it worse, in my opinion.

If Aziraphale had actually chosen Heaven over Crowley, Aziraphale would be sad, but not miserable. But he hasn't. He's going to prison without the one person he most wants to protect and be with. And he has no guarantee that Crowley will be safe, or that they will ever see each other again. He must be devastated.

If Aziraphale had chosen Heaven over Crowley, Crowley would have every right to be hurt and angry. But Aziraphale hasn't. He's being dragged to prison, where Crowley can't be with him and make sure he's okay, where Crowley knows he'll be treated badly, and Crowley's going to try to save the world, and if he succeeds, they can build that life together they've wanted for so long; but if he fails, they may never see each other again. He must be devastated.

Stop asking why they both look so sad if the break up is fake.

They are devastated.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #the final fifteen #ineffable divorce #final fifteen #our poor husbands #it's so much more sad than it first seems

[bericas]

scott appreciation week (day 2) → you’re a werewolf

         They will call me by the body

         & mistake bright skin

for new land. Mistake eyes

for lunar rock to be taken

                   home as a souvenir.

#twedit #scottmccallledit #scottmccallweek #scott mccall #teenwolfplus #ive had this made forever but i always wanted to redo it and then i didnt #its literally been since last june #so here it is for this! #anyway i love him #the reason scott is so babygirl is actually because like women his body is a commodity! #it was taken from him by peter and never really given back #hes something to covet and something to destroy but not someone to take care of #which becomes so starkly clear in s5 especially #in the way his mom talks to him after he dies and the way stiles attacks him and never apologizes #and the way by s6 i think lydia and malia are the only ones really treating him like an equal #but lydia treats him the way she treats herself which is with respect and expectation #and he's allowed to fail! but it doesn't mean he hasn't. you know. like i wanna be so clear there's no love lost. there's no hard feelings #and in a romantic setting it would probably be different but as friends i really think she treats him how she treats herself #which is why her holding him to a standard is different bc it isnt inhuman. its just knowing what hes capable of #but alll of that i think is why by s6 he's so surprised when malia is so tender with him #because hes either a child or a god or a hero #and always an alpha #and malias like no actually im gonna do what i want and also im gonna make you take a shower and hold your hand #anyway #the point of this #is that i love him #ALSO I DIDNT GET THE FRAYED FAKE OUT BUT EVERYONE HAS TO LEAVE IT ALONE #I THINK ITS CLEAR THAT IM NOT REMAKING THIS #SO WE ALL HAVE TO FIND A WAY TO COPE

[hotvintagepoll]

Do you have any opinions on modern (post-1970s) movies that you feel capture the essence (in a good way) of Old Movies?

No, unfortunately. That doesn't mean I don't like modern movies or that modern movies aren't good, but modern movies—and here I'm really using modern to mean post-2010, so contemporary movies—have different standards for pacing, characterization, budget, and production that make it harder (or impossible) to capture some of the magic of old movies. Even when modern movies clearly try to emulate that old-movie feeling—I'm thinking of La La Land, The Artist, The Shape of Water, In the Heights—they play the homage too broadly, or they ignore crucial components that make the original films work.

There's kind of too much to go into here without writing a full essay, but essentially, the Old Hollywood system—ugly, failed beast as she was—made some movies simply more accessible to make, due to the ongoing storage of props, sets, master craftsmen, crew, and onscreen talent that could move from one movie to the next without pause. If you needed a dancer, he was already on staff. If you needed a fancy bed, it was already in the warehouse. That kind of longterm storage is invaluable if you want to crank out movies quickly and cheaply because it saves so much time on individual negotiation and sourcing. Modern production companies have to work out individual contracts for every actor on every film; crew members have to negotiate rental contracts and source pieces from scratch; if you need someone with specialist skills, you have to contract them specially at a high rate, which a lot of small companies can't (or won't) budget to do. There's sand in the wheels where there needn't be any. It's wasteful, and costly, but that's the system modern movies are made with.

Which all means that even if the modern movie system wanted to make a classic movie musical just like the old ones, they couldn't, because the talent isn't already there—it hasn't been trained up enough, and there's not that breadth of knowledge you can only get from people who have been allowed to work in the same department in the same place for decades. Movies like La La Land fail, for me, because they present themselves as descendants of Fred Astaire or Busby Berkley movies, while missing the bit where Fred Astaire was a master of his craft. When you watch Fred Astaire dance—or Moira Shearer, or the Nicholas Brothers, or Ann Miller—you are watching a true artist at work, purposely showcased by the studios because they already have them on contract. Modern movies, on the other hand, tend to take people who already have star talent (as actors) and try to convert them into dancers/singers—or they pull dancers/singers off of Broadway, but then they don't have the star power built in. You end up with lackluster musicals where no one truly knows what they're doing, or they do but they're not built up enough by the studios to sell. And that's me discussing just on-screen talent for musicals—there is a huge loss behind the scenes, as well, for all kinds of movies, where roles that would have been filled by union crew who moved continuously from one job to the next have been swapped for freelance labor who live with immense turnover, financial insecurity, and knowledge loss. You could hand me the budget and I could try to make an old movie, but the industry itself has changed so much it's impossible to recapture that charm of steady, niche talent, the amazing possibilities of bonkers set design, and the ability to take a risk on a smaller movie because the other films being produced by the same studio can help balance the budget.

I've talked way, way too much about all of this! Sorry, I just have a lot of thoughts—and the one above is just one of them; the talent loss and storage issues are only facets of a much bigger problem that extends to how we watch movies today, how we market them, what we expect of them, and what's allowed in them. It's a crying shame because the talent is still there, but times change and so does the industry, for better or for worse. (And, just again to clarify, I don't think modern movies are bad—they're just missing a lot of the juice old movies got to play with, even if there's more talent available than ever before.)

#asks #hotvintagethoughts

[rogueddie]

Steve has always been confused when people describe family- the structure, what it means to them, any of it. His parents were always distant with him. The babysitters they hired weren't any better.

He's never really considered family important or significant. It's a meaningless word to him. He has his relatives and that's it. He doesn't have any family, not the way people describe it as anyway.

Well. He used to think like that. He thought like that for a while and, for most of that time, he was right. But it very quickly turned around.

It started with Dustin.

The kid was clearly in awe of Steve. Steve had seen it clear as day and found himself desperate to keep him safe. And he did- he worked hard to keep the brat alive, despite repeated efforts to undermine that. And Dustin is so fiercely loyal.

"You die, I die!" Dustin had yelled at him once.

Steve had stared at him, with a sudden cold realization; he loves Dustin. The kid is his family. A weird mix between a little brother and a son. And Dustin clearly felt just as strong for him.

He already knew how ready he was to die for Dustin. He knew now, without a doubt, that nothing would be able to stop him from keeping him safe.

But, he reasoned, one pseudo-kid is enough.

Then Lucas had turned to him one summer. He wanted to get into basketball and knew Steve used to play. It was supposed to be simple practices, some tips and things like that. Nothing special, just advice between friends. Because that's all they were, at the time.

Over the summer, with all the time spent together, they quickly because good friends. And, again, Steve kept telling himself that it's just that. Friends. He's already got a weird pseudo-kid with Dustin.

Watching the game, however, quickly shatters that illusion. As soon as Lucas had stepped onto the court, Steve thought; "thats my kid!"

And Steve thought having one kid was a blessing- a horrible, sarcastic, needy blessing but a blessing none-the-less. Having two is chaotic, but oddly comforting. They're both so different and fill spaces in his heart he hadn't known were empty. They're more family than Steve had ever thought he'd be allowed to have.

But Max had quickly stepping into the picture.

There was always something about her that made Steve feel even more protective. Their first real time spent together being that van, the demodogs, definitely didn't help. He doesn't think he'll ever forget hearing her scream. He doesn't think he's ever moved as fast as he had then.

Seeing Billy getting aggressive with Lucas had only heightened it all. He'd only known Max a few days when he realized that she would never be able to shake him now.

Even when Max tried to push him away, after Billys death, saying the cruelest things she could thing of to get him to back off, he hadn't. He'd simply started to call her parents instead, made sure they knew if they needed anything, if Max ever wanted to vent to him again, he's still there. He's still waiting.

Seeing her in a hospital dead, essentially dead just… it feels like someone has shoved their arm down his throat and pulled his lungs out. Like someone has taken something so vital...

The only comfort, the only person who seems to settle him, is Eddie Munson. But... Eddie isn't part of his little pseudo-family. He wants him to be. He doesn't. It's... confusing. Because he likes Eddie.

Eddie, who lets Steve hold his fingers to his wrist so he can feel his pulse. Eddie, who insists on being moved into a wheelchair so Steve isn't sat in Maxs room alone. Eddie, who doesn't let anyone make Steve go home even though he probably should. Eddie, who looks at Steve like he hasn't failed him or the kids.

One day, Steve asks. He has to, he has to know.

"You're a good dad to them," Eddie explains. He quickly holds up a hand when Steve tries to deny it. "You are. And you aren't the only one who forgets it. You need someone to look out for you too and, since Buckley is too busy hitting on your ex, you're stuck with me."

"I'm not stuck," is all Steve could think to say.

"Hm?"

Steve ducks his head, tries to pull back but Eddie just holds onto his hand tighter. "I'm not... I don't feel stuck. With you."

"Good."

Steve glanced up. Eddie rewarding him with a bright grin, lifting his hand up to kiss the back of it. Steve can feel his face heating up. He doesn't feel embarrassed though, hopes the little smirk means that Eddie is taking his blush as encouragement.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve and his children #ficlet #steddie fic #i had no idea how to end this #sorry? #foundfamily

[666writingcafe]

A Lesson in Demon Anatomy (NSFW)

Asmo has made a huge mistake.

Okay, maybe "huge mistake" is a bit dramatic, but there's no doubt that he messed up in his calculations. He thought that everyone was out of the house and wouldn't be returning for quite a while, so he felt okay walking around in his birthday suit.

It's something that he used to do nearly every day, but when the exchange program was in the works, he agreed to put a stop to it in order to create a good impression on whomever was going to stay with him and his brothers. However, when he got the opportunity to be alone, he couldn't help but resort back to old habits.

So, one could imagine his surprise when he strolls into the sitting room to find MC stretched out on the couch. They were reading a book, but of course they looked up when they heard footsteps heading their direction, and now...

"I'm so sorry, MC!" Asmo exclaims. "I had no idea that you were even in here! I thought you were studying at the library, but if I'd had known you were coming home, I would have put something on so that I would be presentable and---"

"It's pretty," MC murmurs, interrupting Asmo's train of thought. In that moment, he realizes that his beloved human has their eyes directly trained on his nether regions.

That's odd, he thinks. I didn't think I had that effect on MC.

"Oh, this ol' thing?" Asmo asks, gesturing downwards. MC nods their head, failing to look up at his face.

"Would you like a closer look?"

Why am I so nervous? Millions of individuals have seen me naked before. I should be used to people's reactions.

"If you're okay with it," MC responds. Gingerly, Asmo walks over to them. MC sits up as he approaches, and when he's standing in front of them, they finally look into Asmo's eyes.

Asmo nearly falls backwards from the sheer amount of lust that suddenly surges through his body. Avatars of Sin are like lightning rods in that way; they are attracted to the energy of their sin, and the energy is attracted to them.

Usually, Asmo is able to mitigate the effects of someone's lust with his own, but he hasn't felt this much of it from another individual in a long time. And the fact that it's coming from MC of all people, one of the only beings he's ever known that has been able to resist his demonic charm...

"Can I touch it?" MC asks, forcing Asmo to focus on the present moment.

"Of course you can!" he answers, trying to hide the fact that he's starting to hear the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. MC gently wraps their hand around the underside and runs their thumb over the skin.

"Is there a reason why it's bumpy?" A part of Asmo is relieved by the question, because it means that he can put aside his feelings for a bit and focus on the answer.

"It's part of a defense mechanism. As you might have learned, a demon has different levels to their form. You've seen the first and second, but I'm not sure if you've witnessed anyone shift above that. Anyway, our appearance significantly changes in the third level, and things begin sprouting in all sorts of places."

"Including dicks?"

"Especially dicks. Mine sprouts stringers. They become poisonous in the fourth level."

"Like a scorpion."

"Exactly."

"Have you killed anyone with it?"

"There was a period of time where that was my weapon of choice, yes."

Why is MC staring at me like that?

"Is it safe in this state?"

"It better be, or a whole lot of people would be coming for my ass." MC's hand moves to the small of Asmo's back, and the Avatar of Lust allows them to guide him closer to them.

"May I?" they ask. Asmo can only manage a nod. He shouldn't be this nervous; he's received plenty of blow jobs before. Why is this one any different?

Perhaps it's because it's been a while since someone's been this...enthusiastic.

What Asmo is unaware of in the moment---and what he doesn't learn until after the fact---is that MC's discovered that they derive intense pleasure from sucking dick. However, once he knows that this side of MC exists...

Let's just say that he sits back and watches as his brothers fall prey to MC's wild side.

#obey me shall we date #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me brothers #obey me mc #obey me smut

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

North Star.

It's New Years Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

Pairing - Jake Seresin x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 1638

Author's Note - Thank you so much for all the love on The Orange - I've been giggling and kicking my feet reading all of your comments and tags. I loved writing it, and I loved writing this one too. Please feel free to send me any requests, ideas, prompts, comments or questions - I'll always read them. If I could kiss you all, I would x

Masterlist. Requests.

Multi colored lights adorn the beams of the ceiling. Metallic streamers hang from the bar. Music is blasting from the jukebox. The Hard Deck almost looks unrecognisable. 

It's New Years Eve, and The Squad have agreed to spend it together. Hangman, Coyote and Payback are at the dart board, allowing Jake to show off his talent. Bob, Rooster and Fanboy are convened by the pool table, taking turns to shoot, unbothered by who's meant to be sinking what. You and Natasha are standing by the bar, waiting for Penny to serve you when she gets the chance.

"So, come on, who are you kissing at midnight?" Natasha looks at you with a glint in her eye. Mischievous girl. 

"Yeah. Right. You, if you're not careful," you warn her, teasing lilt in your voice. Honestly, you don't think she'd be the worst choice in the world. 

"As much as I'd love that, I don't think the squad could handle it," she winks at you cheekily. "Seriously, who?" 

"I don't know!" you laugh. But that's a lie. You do know. At least, you know who you'd like to kiss. 

Jake Seresin. Hangman. America's Sweetheart. 

Pilot, Texan, Heartbreaker. 

Your friend, your teammate, the man you've been in love with since you met him that first day of basic training. 

The two of you were partnered for the first few exercises that day, and you beat every other pair by a mile. You both figured out pretty quickly that you make a damn good team. 

That hasn't changed. If ever you have to pair up for an exercise, a mission, or just a class, Jake's eyes find yours immediately. A silent question. Shall we? And your answer, always - of course. 

You seem to have your own language, this shared communication. You don't have to speak to know what the other person is saying. On the ground, or in the air, you know each other's next moves. Predictable, but comfortable. 

Maybe that's the problem. 

You believe strongly that women are more than capable of making the first move. You've thought about grabbing Jake and kissing him stupid more times than you can count. But you don't. Every time there's an opportunity, you brush past it, let it go. Because the comfort isn't worth sacrificing. At least, that's what you're telling yourself. 

Your friendship with Jake has been built on years of trust, empathy, and reliance. You know that no matter what, he'll have your back. He's demonstrated it more than once. Countless times. Showing up for you, without fail. When you were harassed by a man at the Hard Deck, Jake showed up. When you had a family member's funeral and didn't want to go alone, Jake showed up. When you broke your wrist and ended up in the hospital, Jake showed up. He was your North Star. Always there, always guiding. Always comforting. 

So you can't help but repeatedly ask yourself - why hasn't he made a move? You're convinced you know the answer to that question, though. Because you're friends. He sees you as a friend. A teammate. Which you wouldn't change for the world, not by any means. But it doesn't stop you from wishing that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't hold his cards so close to his chest. Just for a minute. 

The Devil Himself sidles over to the two of you, still at the bar, and throws an arm over each of you. Natasha manages to wiggle under and away from him, but you stay put. You don't mind. 

"Hey pretty ladies," he beams, "whatcha whispering about?" 

"It's kind of impossible to whisper when you keep queueing Duran Duran on the jukebox at full volume, Hangman," Natasha barks back. 

He laughs, a real, full bodied laugh that shakes both him and you, still with his arm slung over your shoulder. You laugh with him. It's impossible not to. His laugh is contagious, you think. Unavoidable. He laughs, you laugh. That's the way it's always been. 

It's at this moment that Bob pushes his way through the crowd, grabbing Natasha by the hand. 

"Phoenix, I need you. Fanboy doesn't believe you can do that pool trick you showed me last week. Come and prove him wrong!" 

She grins at you, and allows herself to be pulled into the swarms of people, on her way to earn some respect. 

You turn back to Jake at the bar, and see that he's ordered a beer, and your usual. Observant boy. 

You take a sip of your drink, only for a drop to miss your mouth entirely. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's just his impatience, but Jake decides he's tired of waiting. He leans in to you, and slowly, deliberately, follows the journey of the drop with his tongue, from the bottom of your neck up to your jaw. He pulls back, and watches you with that gaze of his. Measured, careful. Adoring. Mischievous. Just so Jake. 

You feel the heat rise from your chest and up to your cheeks, but you don't break eye contact with him. It feels like a confession. You're baring your truth to him, silently, and he's understanding. That shared language. You're both saying so much, without saying anything at all. 

It's then that you realise where you are. The Hard Deck has somehow become even more crowded, and you keep being bumped left and right by people attempting to get to the bar. The music is too loud, the lights are too bright. You need a minute. As if he can read your mind, Jake speaks. 

"Let's get some air. It's hot in here." 

He grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers with his, and leads you out of the door, onto the deck outside. 

The cool night air hits you both, and you sigh with relief. You allow the breeze to flow through your hair, to ripple your dress, to cleanse you of your worry.

Jake's still holding your hand. Tighter, now. As if he's scared you'll blow away. Or run away, maybe. 

You lean into him slightly, and rest your head against his arm. He's warm, soft. He smells like Jake. Like love. Like home. 

"You okay?" he asks. Always so worried about you. Attentive boy. 

"I'm good. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess."

He starts to rub circles over the back of your hand with his thumb, grounding you. It's all so intimate, you don't know whether to pull him closer or sprint in the other direction. 

He makes the decision for you - closer. He kisses your hair, and then rests his head atop of yours. You can hear the squad laughing and cheering inside, all of them completely unaware that out on the deck, two of their teammates are baring their souls to each other. 

You have no idea whether it's been two minutes or two hours when Jake speaks again. 

"You're the prettiest girl in that bar, you know." Then, he says, a bit quieter, "You're always the prettiest girl in the room."

He says it so sincerely, so earnestly, that you want to rip your heart out of your chest and place it in his hands. You want to give it to him so that maybe he'll finally understand - it's already his. 

You don't know what to say, so you bring your interlaced hands up to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles individually. He's so warm, so golden. Radiating light wherever he goes. Your North Star. 

You both listen to the gentle crash of the ocean waves, sitting with the weight of the moment. It feels like with every second that passes, silent revelations are being made. As if the love, the feelings, the comfort, are passing through your hands and into his. You're quite convinced that you could stay right where you are forever. 

Bury me like this, you think. Immortalise us here. 

All of a sudden, the sound of a countdown breaks through your solitude. 

Ten. Nine.

You smile gently, and look at Jake, to see him gazing down at you. Stars in his eyes. Cosmic boy. 

Eight. Seven. 

He glances inside, to see the squad all gathered together, arms around one another. His family. 

Six. Five. 

Jake turns to you, and cups your face in both of his hands. Those hands that have picked you up from the ground. Those hands that have wiped your tears. Those hands, so strong, but so gentle. That's him all over, though. Your gentle boy. 

Four. Three. 

He looks at you with promise in his eyes. You can understand, clear as day, what he's telling you. Life will never be the same, from this day forward. Neither of you can wait. 

Two. One. 

Jake leans in, and presses his lips to yours. He tastes like spearmint, and the future. One of his hands travels to the back of your neck, to pull you in closer. Now that he has you this near, he knows he's never going to be able to let you go. 

Bodies pressed together as close as can be, you kiss him with so much love, you're surprised he hasn't fallen over. He's breathing you in, trying to commit this moment to memory. He knows he'll tell your grandkids about this. Hell, he'll tell any damn person that'll listen. 

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips. 

"Happy New Year, lover," you whisper back against his. 

Bright beams of light appear above your head suddenly. Explosions of color dance across the sky, illuminating Jake's face. You look at him, and feel the urge to burst into tears. He's not watching the fireworks. He's watching you. He's gazing at you like you hung the moon. You're looking at him like he's the North Star, guiding you home. And that's exactly where you are. Home.

#jake seresin #hangman #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fic #hangman top gun #jake seresin fluff #hangman fluff #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman fic #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun fic #fluff #reader insert #jake seresin oneshot #top gun one shot #top gun x reader #top gun x y/n #top gun x you

[mccromy]

In regards to why Yue Qingyuan is like that when it comes to Shen Jiu, I have some thoughts.

To begin with, I always interpreted their relationship as purely platonic/familial (though perhaps with potential to turn into something else had things been different. I think their personalities are compatible in that way.)

Because of that, I empathize with Yue Qingyuan from my place as the oldest sibling, and because of it I think I can understand him when it comes to his behavior regarding Shen Qingqiu. (Because of that, I admit I'm not objective, so don't take this as a serious analysis and just my thoughts)

And for this I feel that Yue Qingyuan, more than allowing Shen Qingqiu to do what he pleases because he feels guilty, feels responsible for Shen Qingqiu's actions. He doesn't let Shen Qingqiu abuse his disciples, be hostile towards their fellow peak lords, and "engage in debauchery" just because he doesn't want to further strain their relationship, but because all of this is his fault.

When Shen Yuan first transmigrated and Yue Qingyuan asked him to stop punishing Luo Binghe, it didn't feel like he was making an attempt to stop Shen Qingqiu from further abusing the boy, but like the admonishment of an older sibling telling their little brother to stop acting a certain way. A "why are you doing this? You are not getting anything out of it, there's no reason for this other than you being cruel, stop it." Had Yue Qingyuan been making an attempt to stop him from harming his disciple, he would've actually put an end to it. He's the sect leader, he could just take Luo Binghe to another peak if not outright order Shen Qingqiu to stop.

There was a time my younger sister started bullying a classmate, she didn't see it as such, and I know she's not purposely cruel but she was young and thoughtless. In that situation I didn't take the other kid's side and reprimanded her harshly, yelled at her for being mean, ordered her to stop. I asked her why she did that (boy was annoying/everybody else was doing it too (and so it couldn't be wrong)) and told her that what she was doing was cruel, that everybody was being cruel to that boy, explained to her how bullying works, asked her how would she feel if she was annoying and everybody made fun of her, and asked her if she wanted to be a bully.

Yue Qingyuan said something along the lines of ''that boy hasn't done anything wrong, he tries so hard, aren't you tired? Hasn't it been enough?" He didn't take Luo Binghe's side like he should have, but he appealed to Shen Qingqiu's logic. He knew Shen Qingqiu and had an idea of why he was doing it, and addressed it calmly, tried to convince him to stop because there was no point, he was only making himself angry. He wasn't assertive either, only coaxing, because he also felt all of this was his fault. And not only that;

I believe Yue Qingyuan genuinely loved Shen Qingqiu, but he didn't like him anymore, and he felt terrible for it. He cared so much for him, yes, Shen Qingqiu was the only person he actually cared about and he couldn't be objective when it came to Shen Qingqiu. But he was constantly exasperated by him, he was so disappointed, and he knew he could like him again if Shen Qingqiu just stopped acting so caustically. But what right did he have to dislike Shen Qingqiu after how he failed him? If Shen Qingqiu acted like this it was because he was hurt, and whose fault was that?

Love and like do not always go hand in hand.

Think about a parent, a friend, a sibling, an aunt or an uncle. Someone you loved so much as a child and who was good to you. Someone who gave you gifts and played with you and heard you ramble and rant for hours, who defended you from others, who always had a smile for you. Now think about the time you realized they were a bigot, or that they yell to waiters, are cruel to animals. That they hit their partners or their children. You felt disappointed (and even betrayed) but you still loved them, you just didn't like them anymore, and you could no longer trust them, but if something happened to them, you'd be inconsolable. And you just know that if they just stopped you would like them again, you'd be so proud, you'd be so happy. In many cases like this what actually happens is that people feel guilty for loving someone so awful. In Yue Qingyuan's case, he felt guilty for not liking him.

Shen Jiu was not a good man, but he was hurt and the world had never been kind to him, so Yue Qingyuan took it upon himself to be unconditionally kind to him (even if he didn't realize that the way he chose to be kind also hurt Shen Qingqiu) and Yue Qingyuan was also the reason why Shen Qingqiu was so hurt, if Shen Qingqiu was cruel or violent, the blame fell on Yue Qingyuan's shoulders. How could he even dare to side eye Shen Qingqiu for how he behaved, when he wouldn't be like this if it weren't for Yue Qingyuan?

Yue Qingyuan's guilt doesn't come solely from not getting Shen Qingqiu out of Qiu manor, but from every single consequence that followed his failure. He's at fault for any and all of Shen Qingqiu's sins. He is also the only person who will ever be good to Shen Qingqiu, who knows he isn't the monster he made himself to be. He has no right to be disappointed in Shen Qingqiu's actions because they are his fault, he would never dare impose his own will above Shen Jiu's because hasn't Shen Jiu been subjected enough to the whims of others? he will never use his authority to stop him, he's the only ally Shen Jiu has, and he's also the only person in the whole sect with power over Shen Qingqiu, not only because of his position as sect leader, but because of how well he knows Shen Qingqiu, his secrets, his past and weaknesses. This puts him in a position to hurt Shen Qingqiu in ways no other could, to damage beyond what any other would be able to.

Yue Qingyuan's regrets are way more complex than what people make them out to be. Yue Qingyuan is aware that his silence about the fact that he did come back but was too late wounds Shen Qingqiu deeply, and the longer he doesn't explain himself the more Shen Qingqiu hurts. But this is also the only way he has of punishing himself, and he also feels guilty about it.

Imagine how he must see his own situation, Yue Qingyuan is respected and well liked, rich and powerful, he will never have to submit to other's wishes, he is free, untouchable, his brother is alive and healthy and close by. He has it all and more than he ever dreamed of, and deserves none of it, how could he ever allow himself to be forgiven? When in the end he's the person who has hurt Shen Jiu the most.

There are more reasons why he keeps quiet about the Linxi caves, most stem from trauma, and I believe his own need for punishment is one of them.

So when I see his behavior being reduced to ''he doesn't want for sqq to hate him more'' or ''he's just ashamed and guilty'' I feel sad because, Shen Jiu might be the most misunderstood character by other characters in the story. But Yue Qingyuan is the most misunderstood character by the fandom.

#yqy loving hours continue #Yue Qingyuan #svsss #yqy #mip #i was like. if my sister acted like that and I had the same baggage as yqy. would i act any different? 🤔 #and the answer was: I don't think so #a consequence of shen jiu being so mischaracterized by fandom is that people mischaracterize everybody else as well tbh #''if Shen Jiu did nothing wrong but everybody acts like he did then everybody else must be wrong!'' ma'am he did some things wrong #the whole plot of pidw stems from the things he did wrong #did he do everything he was accused of? nope. did he do some of those things tho? oh hell yeah #not a huge fan of the whipping kids thing. but killing his abuser and burning down a manor was so cool of him. based

[cuubism]

I have been absolutely loving Bookstore Cryptid Dream! Offline life got rough for a bit there, but this little universe never failed to make my heart happy. Thank you - and I hope you're planning on more!

i've indeed had one in my drafts so i finished it up for you :)

--

Hob has been waiting with equal parts anticipation and trepidation to find out exactly what ideas Dream will pull from his romance novels. He still hasn't figured out why he picked romance novels as his manuals. Maybe he needs his sex positions to have narratives. Maybe he's into roleplay. God.

But Hob doesn't get to find out.

He's been busy for a few days--new term at the local uni starting up means the cafe's suddenly gotten busier--and while Dream's popped in and out a few times, they haven't had the chance to spend much time together. It's probably good, Hob tries to convince himself. Puts the brakes on things, just a little.

But when he finally gets a break, hands the reins over to his staff for an evening, he heads to The Library. Even if Dream is busy with his own tasks, Hob's content to just sit in his space. Listen to his stories. It's not something the busy cafe environment usually allows, but The Library is like an alternate world, cool, quiet, and timeless.

Hob strides up the steps and opens The Library door.

And there's nothing inside.

It takes several moments for his tired brain to comprehend what he's looking at, and several more for him to decide that no, he's not dreaming. He steps through the doorway into a dim, empty room, old wood-paneled walls and dust gathering in the corners, and no infinite winding paths of shelves like in Dream's bookshop. Just a shell.

Hob presses his palm to the wall. It's cool, and smooth, and very much real. Not some mad hallucination of his, this empty room.

Blinking hard, Hob steps back outside, closes the door again, as if that might change things. Opens it again. Same room. Does it again. Same room. He calls out into the empty bowels of the once-Library: "Dream!"

No answer, of course.

Hob had known that The Library had a sort of magic to it. But just vanishing into thin air...

And Dream wouldn't...

...would he?

Hob spins in place on the stoop, looking out on the darkened street which suddenly feels so much more eerie. He steps down to the road in a daze, looking around as if The Library might suddenly appear in another doorway. Resists the urge to yell Dream's name into the darkness.

And then, well, fuck it. "Dream!" he calls. All that echoes back to him is his own voice.

Hob sits down on the stoop, defeated. If he hadn't seen Dream just yesterday, kissed him on his way out of the cafe not twenty-four hours ago, he really might have started to think he'd hallucinated all of this. Invented someone he'd wanted to know.

But he didn't invent Dream, he swears he didn't--so then where is he?

Hob doesn't sleep much that night. He doesn't do much of anything else, either--it's not like Dream left a note to track him down, or any evidence of his existence. It's not like Hob can put up missing person posters: have you seen this bookshop? Or force it to reappear.

He's having a very sleep-deprived, very over-caffeinated morning shift in the cafe, contemplating how long one's not-quite-human not-quite-boyfriend needs to be not-quite-missing before it's reasonable to start finding out which parts of London harbor demons and sorcerers--when a man he's never seen before stops at the counter, hands folded before him, and says, "Excuse me, but do you know if there's a bookshop around here?"

Hob has never seen anyone else ever go into The Library or even acknowledge its existence, and Hob's anxiety is so high that he almost leaps over the counter to grab this man by the collar and demand, what do you know about Dream?! Fortunately he belays that impulse. This stranger really does look almost laughably harmless and definitely not like a demon or sorcerer, not that Hob's seen one--and getting arrested for assault is not going to help anything.

"I tried the door," continues the stranger, as Hob just keeps staring at him, conflicted, "only, well. It seems to have vanished."

Well, at least Hob's not hallucinating. Not that a disappearing bookstore is helpful to his sanity.

After what was surely a conspicuously long silence, though his visitor just waits patiently, Hob says, "Have... you been there before?" He feels weirdly defensive of The Library, even if it's currently AWOL. He doesn't know if he wants random people to be able to find Dream.

Or maybe that's just jealousy.

"Oh, no, this is my first time coming this way," says the man, apologetically. "I'm just looking for a certain book."

Damn odd timing for it.

Hob comes out from behind the counter and waves him over to a table. He should probably get some tea. Proper hospitality and all. But he's too worked up and way too sleep-deprived.

His guest sits down primly at the table as Hob slouches against the back of his own seat. "Sorry," Hob finally says, "if I'm--" he waves a vague hand. "Dream's had trouble before, that's all." He holds out his hand to his guest. "Hob."

The man shakes his hand. "Hm. A pleasure. I am Aziraphale. To any associate of--" he tastes the name, "Dream's, that is."

It's interesting that The Library's reputation carries further than knowledge of Dream himself, despite how deeply Dream seems to be tied to the shop.

"Is it meant to be there, then?" asks Aziraphale hopefully. "I wouldn't blame him for moving around to protect the collection; I certainly wouldn't want all and sundry picking through the shelves!" He shudders. "Though I was hoping to find that book."

Hob doesn't bother asking what book. Whatever it is, Dream will certainly have it. What's more important is--

"'Moving around?' Do you know how?" And then, realizing if he wants a chance at info he's going to need to offer some of his own, adds, "You just missed him, it's only today that The Library's been... gone."

"Oh, dear," says Aziraphale, now looking troubled.

"Not sure what pointed you towards this place, but if you've heard anything..." Hob continues, "Dream is my--" what is Dream, anyway? They haven't established it, "...friend."

Looking contemplative, Aziraphale says, "Well it is odd timing, now that you mention it, because--"

That's when the door to The Library flies open.

A lanky man comes hurtling down the steps, limbs akimbo, yelling something over his shoulder that Hob can't hear from within the cafe. "Oh dear," says Aziraphale again, with a mix of concern and consternation. "Crowley!"

Dream storms out of the doorway next, expression thunderous, his hair sticking up in all directions like he'd been struck by lightning. That has Hob lurching to his feet, which Aziraphale does as well, and they both rush outside, just in time to hear--

"Look, it's just one silly book, okay?" The unfamiliar man--Crowley, presumably--says, stopping in the middle of the road and turning towards Dream. "Don't overreact."

Dream is, in fact, clutching a singular heavy book, and looks like he's just about to hurl it, except that Dream would never do something so undignified as that, Hob thinks.

Dream hurls the book at Crowley.

Or not.

Crowley catches it against his chest, stumbling back with the weight. "I do not accept," spits Dream, each word the strike of a nail, "surreptitious rummaging in my library."

"Oh come on," says Crowley, tossing the book to Aziraphale, who's just caught up to him and who catches it with a surprised little umph! sound. Crowley makes a shooing sort of go on, run gesture to Aziraphale, which he doesn't heed. "It's not like I was going to burn the place down. You're just prejudiced against demons."

"I am prejudiced against thieves," hisses Dream. Hob finally reaches his side before he can throw another book or something, lays a hand on Dream's arm. Though all he's really thinking is, demons?!

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonishes. "Please tell me you did not." He finally looks at the cover of the book, and gasps. "Crowley."

Crowley shrugs. "You wanted it, he had it."

Hob frowns, confused. "You don't need to steal from The Library. It's not a museum. Just go in and buy it." Not that Hob's ever actually paid for any of Dream's books.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale turn to him. "One could not simply give away such an artifact," says Aziraphale, caressing the book's leatherbound cover.

"Least not for a steep price," says Crowley, which evidently justifies his trying to swipe it. "I won't be beholden to the likes of you." He points at Dream.

Dream looks affronted. "Now who is prejudiced?"

"Let's back up," Hob says, unsure how he became the voice of reason here. He still has a hand wrapped around Dream's arm, it's grounding after the way Dream had just vanished on him. "What happened? Dream-- I tried to come over and you were just gone." The empty room past The Library doorway is going to continue to be nightmare fuel.

Dream makes an apologetic little sound. "I apologize. I closed all access to The Library for its protection. As it turned out, my assessment of the threat was overstated." He glares at Crowley and adds, darkly, "I thought you were from the school board. Breaking in in the dead of night like so."

Hob momentarily gets stuck on the fact that Dream considers the local school board a greater threat than an actual demon from hell.

"Which," Dream continues, "was utterly unnecessary. You could have simply come to The Library as a visitor and sought out what you were looking for. It would have been granted."

"Oh, so I was just supposed to know you actually sell your books?"

"The books will find their rightful recipients," Dream says stiffly.

"Crowley, you have been very rude," says Aziraphale, though he hasn't given up the book, "I think you should apologize."

"Eh," says Crowley, waving this off. Hob supposes it wouldn't really be given to demons to apologize for things. "You apologize if you really want to."

Aziraphale turns to Dream with a sigh. "I am sorry for my companion's behavior. And... grateful for the book."

Dream nods solemnly at him. It seems his ire does not extend to Aziraphale.

Crowley leans back on his heels, closer to Aziraphale. "Mayyybee we should go now."

Aziraphale nods. "Quite." He tips his head at Dream, and then at Hob. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hob."

Then he turns and hurries away, Crowley slinking along beside him. As they leave, Hob hears Aziraphale admonish, "Do you know how few booksellers there are with truly rare volumes? We cannot afford to make such enemies."

"Yeah, you're welcome, angel."

"...Thank you."

Hob shakes his head in bemusement and turns back to Dream. He takes both of Dream's arms in his hands now, holding onto him, looking him over. Unable to fully vanish the lingering panic of The Library just being gone. "Are you alright? I was... worried. When you disappeared."

"I am annoyed," Dream huffs, like it's a greater point of suffering than any actual injury. Then he leans in close to Hob, pressing a hand to his chest. "I apologize. I did not intend to cause you distress. I had to shut the doors rather quickly, but I hoped to resolve the issue before you had cause to visit The Library."

"It's alright, love. I'm just glad you're okay." He kisses Dream, tentative for how new this all still is. Tastes lightning on his lips. Dream hums with pleasure.

When they pull apart, Hob wraps an arm around Dream's back, starts leading him back towards the cafe, or perhaps just to Hob's flat above. Tea solves everything. "So. The school board, eh?"

Dream sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "They are enthusiastic about banning books."

Hob pulls him against his side, kisses his temple. "Dream against the world."

Dream grumbles, but leans his head on Hob's shoulder, and despite the many strange things of today Hob is going to have to internalize, he feels all soft inside at the gesture.

"Don't worry," he says, "next time your many enemies come calling, just yell and I'll create a diversion."

"And be waiting with tea after I've dealt with them?"

"Got it in one."

As they reach the door to the cafe, Dream turns his head to kiss Hob's shoulder. "You are good to me, Hob Gadling."

And Hob will keep being so. Even when the next strange thing happens.

#hob: yep. same shit as always #idk in what type school boards do or don't exist in the uk maybe that's just an american thing #also realized i never named Hob's cafe lol. i guess now it's just called The Cafe. like The Library #fitting for a man who named his tavern The New Inn #bookstore cryptid dream #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #ask #lunaris1013 #good omens #crowley #aziraphale

[martellspear]

We don't know the entire story yet, so it's impossible to make a judgement like you're doing.

I'd argue that Elia was in fact in on all of Rhaegar's schemes to bring about prophecy. They both knew she couldn't have anymore kids, and so she allowed him to seek out a woman who could...Lyanna.

A crown prince must have more than 2 kids, Elia failed her only purpose. No wonder Rhaegar turned to Lyanna.

I mean, Dorne seems OK with anything so long as there's an agreement between all parties involved.

Robert didn't love any of the women he slept with. His vows meant nothing.

Rhaegar meant everything. He cared for Elia and his children, but also seemed to be in love with Lyanna. His vows had meaning, even if they were interpreted differently.

Hi, anon. I'll assume you've read "tolerate it" and that's what made you come here.

We don't know much about them but I highly doubt Elia was 100% on board with everything. I think he shared some aspects of the prophecy but can you, honestly, tell me that she would take part in the most humiliating moment of her life? Willingly?

"Jon Arryn and Robert and Lord Hunter joking a moment before what was happening dawned on them, Ned watching as Rhaegar was about to stop in front of his sister, mad Aerys glowering in the distance, Elia stiff-backed and trying to act as if nothing was wrong, Jon Connington probably looking vaguely sad, and so on." — source

That's what Paolo Puggioni, an artist George hired, said the author himself told him.

One of my darling moots put in words, better than I would ever be able to, thoughts about Elia and the polyamory relationship some people like to insert her into, you can read it here.

Yes, Elia could be accepting and supportive of others who do it, it's their life. But she's the Crown Prince's wife and future queen. Why would she even consider adding one more person to their relationship? Especially knowing the consequences of those? And not only for her personal life and her children; think about Dorne, the Stormlands and the North's reaction to such insult and pair it up with everything the war cost (Brandon and Rickard died before it even truly started). "But with Rhaegar being king-" George has made clear how fragile monarchy in Westeros actually is.

Elia would put her children in a dangerous position if she not only fully agreed to Rhaegar's plans but also welcomed Lyanna and his bastard. Additionally, I'd love it if you could point it out for me where it says a crown prince can't have only two children (seriously, I'd like to know). Elia gave him two healthy kids and it almost cost her her life, she didn't fail anything.

(consider this to be about book!rhaegar and lyanna; my thoughts on their show version couldn't be more different)

I don't think Rhaegar loved Lyanna at all. And sometimes it honestly felt like he'd rather if she died after giving birth. She was a means to an end. Personally, I believe he manipulated her and then either kept information from her (she wouldn't stay if she knew what happened to her brother and father) or kept her there against her will; two disgusting scenarios. Rhaegar was obsessed with the prophecy, he changed his entire lifestyle for it. If it was love, he could've abandoned his crown and gone to Essos 🤷🏻‍♀️.

If Elia was aware, why wasn't she in Dorne and completely safe? Why didn't Oberyn know of this? "No, but he goes after the Lannisters-" he wanted justice. Even if the person who set them up was Rhaegar, the one who gave the order was Tywin and the one who did it was his beast. Aerys and Rhaegar were not people he could go after, maybe in his afterlife.

More importantly, and I'll be repeating myself here, it doesn't matter if she loved Rhaegar or not or how deeply she did it. Rhaegar's bastard is a direct threat to her children and their future and I doubt Elia - or anyone who hasn't lost their wits - would happily comply with that.

I have done nothing but gathering information and filling voids, what most do in this fandom tbh. There's little we know of how it was like but Rhaegar did hurt Elia again and again; and I do believe he was fond of her, which only makes things worse.

I don't have to know his thoughts to know that some of his actions were disrespectful, hurtful and disgusting; Elia doesn't have to agree or be aware of his plans for crowing another woman QoL&B (and later run away with her) to be humiliating.

Rhaegar, and Rhaegar alone, handled everything with all the sensitive and grace of a reversing dump truck.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #elia martell #oberyn martell #anti lyanna x rhaegar #anti rhaelya #rhaegar targaryen #chatterbox nia

[zimms]

new york city

you called me last night on the telephone and i was glad to hear from you cause i was all alone you said, "it's snowing, it's snowing! god, i hate this weather" now i walk through blizzards just to get us back together

Derek twists the telephone cord around his finger, straining to hear Will's words down the phone. "Sorry, you're cutting out. The landline's a little dodgy."

He definitely doesn't fail to hear the crackle of Will's laughter down the phone. "A landline? What is this, Nurse? The eighties?"

"Shut up! My moms prefer it for some reason. And, I don't know, it has a bit of je ne sais quoi, a bit of nostalgia, a bit of style, y'know." To emphasise the point, even if only to himself, Derek winds the cable around his fingers a couple more times.

"I don't, but I'll take your word for it."

Derek huffs his own laugh before softening his voice. "Look, the point is that I missed what you said the first time. Please could you repeat it, babe?"

Will's voice comes through the phone. "I said that it's snowing here."

"Isn't it always snowing in Maine in December?" Derek says, "Like I thought that was a given?"

"Yeah, but it's the first time I've seen snow since I last saw you." Will's voice goes quietier. "I miss you."

"That was literally two weeks ago, Dex." Derek rolls his eyes, knowing full well that Will can't see him. "You can't possibly miss me that much; you literally went almost two years without talking to me between leaving Samwell and the spring." He sighs and grins to himself "But- I miss you too."

we met in the springtime at a rock and roll show it was on the bowery when it was time to go

One second Derek is bouncing along to the song that the band is playing, the next, his gaze is fixed on a very familiar head of red hair that's darting through the crowd at the gig.

Dex?

Derek is too packed in by the surrounding crowd to do anything but watch, tracking the figure of a man who, two years ago, he never thought he'd see again. Well, maybe not never, after all they'd been to two weddings together this summer alone. But the point is, it would never be just the two of them again.

He allows himself to be swept back up in the words of the song, singing along with the rest of the crowd, but he never truly stops staring at the back of Dex's head. It's fine; Derek will catch him at the bar after the show. He has to.

The gig is in a tiny bar that masquerades as a club/concert venue, packed to the brim with people here to see bands make their first stumbling steps into the music industry. Derek first listened to these guys in his Senior Year at Samwell and fell head over heels in love with their music. They were even the soundtrack to his alarms for the year, greeting him before every 5am practice (because Dex was a total hardass).

After the final song, the crowd starts to disperse and Derek seizes his moment to chase after Dex.

He can't let him slip away from him.

Not this time.

Derek pushes through the crowd, apologising every step of the way, until Dex is finally within reach. Naturally, as soon as Derek goes to close his hand around Will's shoulder, the man in question takes a step forward and Derek takes a big handful of just air. "Dex! Hey! Dex!"

Will spins around and suddenly they're chest to chest for the first time in- Derek doesn't even know how long.

He forgets how to breathe.

"Nursey?" Dex's eyebrows furrow in that familiar way: the way they would when he couldn't figure out the problem with a particularly tricky bit of code, or when he was trying to figure out the best way to shut down the opposing team's attack. Derek hasn't realised until now just how much he missed that expression.

"Dex!" he says, trying desperately to sound normal and not at all breathless and relaxed. "How are you? I didn't- I didn't know you were in New York?"

Dex rubs the back of his neck. "I'm, erm, I'm not really, but I guess, I am?"

"Dex, I say this lovingly, but genuinely what the fuck does that mean?" Derek takes the opportunity to step back, breaking the physical contact between them at last. He can finally breathe.

"I'm living over near Lincoln Park, but I'm working for a start up here."

Derek laughs. "Dude, you could have just said that!"

"I was suprised to see you, okay!" Dex mumbles. "Though I'm not sure why I'm that surprised considering that you were the one that got me into this band, but it's whatever."

Derek pauses and considers what to say for a second, looking Dex up and down to try and gauge how much interaction with him Dex would be willing to stand. He takes another second to throw all of that consideration out of the window and just say fuck it.

He grins up at Will. "Can I buy you a drink?"

we kissed on the subway in the middle of the night i held your hand, you held mine, it was the best night of my life

One drink turns into two and two turns into four and so on and so on until the two of them stumble out onto the Bowery and into the open air at 3am.

Derek doesn't know how to describe it, but everything always feels easier at 3am. As they walk along the street towards the subway station, he brushes his hand against Dex's once, twice, three times until finally Will takes his hand in his.

They tangle their fingers together, relaxing into the easy rhythm that they lost at some point during senior year, and falling into each other's orbits yet again.

Derek tugs Will towards the Houston Bowery Wall, gravitating towards the explosion of colour in the night light. "C'mere." He squeezes Will's hand. "This is the Bowery Wall Mural. It's one of my favourite pieces of art in New York, especially this one."

"This one?" Will's voice trembles a little as if they're in a holy place rather than stood on the intersection of two busy streets in New York.

"They change the wall every so often, a constant fresh start, constant new opportunities. Sometimes they decide that a mural has had its time, sometimes other people decide for them, covering up the work with graffiti, showing the world what matters to them. But the wall always comes back with a newer piece of art, a never-ending cycle of hope and new beginnings."

Derek looks down at his and Will's interlocked hands and gives them another squeeze. "Last year, they decided to stop commissioning new murals because they kept being destroyed, but out of the ashes came this mural."

The wall is painted in a bright array of portraits, depicting people of all shapes and sizes. It takes Derek's breath away as he looks at it, even though he walks past it every week; there's something different about bringing Will here.

Will's voice catches in his throat. "It's beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here."

Derek grins back at him. "Thank you for coming with me."

Will's expression shifts and his eyes begin to dart around. "I should be going."

"What? All the way back to Jersey at this time? You're not going to get back until like 8am. Seriously, come back to my place; you can take the guest room."

(Internally, Derek kicks himself.)

"No, no, I can head back; I wouldn't want to impose."

"No, seriously I insist," Derek says, slowly beginning to steer them towards the subway station. "We're like ten minutes from my place on the subway; way better than going back to Jersey."

Will huffs a sigh, knowing that he's lost this battle. "Okay, fine. But I'll pay you back somehow, y'know."

Derek smiles at him as they enter through the ticket barriers. "I know."

(Derek will unashamedly admit that they made out in the empty subway carriage. Like c'mon, how could he resist waiting until he got home?)

because everyone's your friend in new york city and everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty the streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see but the best thing about new york city is you and me

Derek wraps his arms around Will's waist and pulls him in closer, letting their bodies slot together in the warmth of the bed. "I'm so glad that I spotted you at that gig," he whispers into the crook of his neck. "I couldn't let you get away again."

Will leans back into the embrace. "I'm glad you found me too." He wriggles a bit, getting more comfortable. "It feels like I was stumbling blindly around the city before you found me. Like New York and you are so intertwined; you are New York, New York is you. It was weird to be in the city without you, to be honest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Will turns around to look at him. “Seriously, Derek. I’ve loved the past four months of you dragging me around the city.”

Derek tickles his sides and Will squirms in his arms. “Drag?! I seem to recall you were the one that made a whole list of places that you wanted to see, including Co-Op City.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will mutters, ducking his head. “Maybe we shouldn’t have trekked all the way out to the Bronx just for it, but I thought I should see it, okay? It was a big case study in my urban planning class.”

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you.” Derek leans down to kiss his boyfriend. “I think it’s sweet, honestly. Especially considering you didn’t think to do any of this stuff in your first two months of living here.”

“I was getting used to a new city! I wasn’t trying to sight-see; I was trying to survive!”

Derek hums to convey his total belief in Will’s statement. “Uh, huh.”

“It’s true!”

Derek hums again and grins down at him. “Anyway, do you still have that list somewhere? I need to figure out what’s left on your New York bucket list.”

Will blindly flails his arm onto his bedside table. “Yeah, yeah. Lemme just find it.” He rummages around a bit more, before finally producing a crumpled-up piece of paper. “here you go.”

statue of liberty, staten island ferry, co-op city, katz's, and tiffany's, central park, brooklyn bridge, the empire state, where dylan lived, coney island, and times square, rockefeller center

“Okay, I think I have the perfect idea for what our final stereotypical New York sightseeing trip will be,” Derek says.

“Mhhm, am I allowed to know what it is?”

“You’ll find out in, like, three months, I promise.” Derek can’t resist and gives Will another peck on the cheek. “It’ll be worth it.”

wish i was there

Derek finally removes his hands from where they’ve been covering Will’s eyes for the past ten minutes. “Surprise?”

They’re stood just outside the Rockefeller Centre ice rink, which is filled with a hurricane of screaming children and couples desperately trying to keep their balance whilst holding hands.

Will chuckles. “I’d say yes, but somehow the fact that you blindfolded me when you caught me looking at a sign for the Rockefeller Centre says otherwise.” He pauses. “Also, the fact that I caught you stealing my skates from my apartment the last time we were there.”

“Okay, you got me,” Derek says, “but it was good choice, yeah?”

“Yes, definitely.” Will threads his hand in Derek’s. “It was a great choice. Plus it’s like full circle, y’know. We first met at an ice rink and it’s nice to bring the list to a close with an ice rink too. Especially considering how much our relationship has changed over the past seven years, though it was a bit touch and go for a while, eh.”

Derek can’t help himself; he laughs. “Eh? Have you been spending too much time with Jack, huh?”

“Shut up.” Will lets go of his boyfriend’s hand so that he can elbow him instead. “I’m trying to be romantic and poetic and shit; don’t make fun of me.”

“Okay, okay.” Derek says. “You said exactly what I was gonna say, is all.”

“Oh?” Will mock-gasps. “So, I was in fact being poetic and shit?”

Derek kisses him – mostly to wipe the smug grin off his face – and then pulls back. “Are you ready to go and show these kids and tourists how it’s done?”

“Aren’t we technically tourists for this exercise?”

“Shhhh.” Derek kisses Will again, just for the fun of it this time and as they break apart, he feels something wet on his cheek. “Wait, are you crying?”

“No, you idiot, it’s snowing.”

Oh.

So, it is.

Derek feels a little stupid right now, but he can’t tell if that’s because of the kiss or because he was so obviously wrong.

Will taps him on the shoulder. “Come back here, idiot. This feels like a pretty perfect ending to my first year in New York.”

Derek waggles his eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”

He’s met with an eyeroll, but Will also rewards him with a “yeah” and another world-stopping kiss.

Derek has to agree with Will: with the snow falling down on them and the hubbub of the city around them, it does feel like a pretty perfect ending to their first year in New York together.

you wrote me a letter just the other day you said, "springtime is coming soon so why don't you come to stay" i packed my stuff, it's on the bus, i can't believe it's true. i'm three days from new york city and i'm three days from you.

Will has to laugh when his mom hands him the mail stack, an envelope with his name on it sat on top. Did Derek seriously send him a letter for the two weeks that he was back in Maine? Well, yeah, clearly – that much is evidenced by the fucking letter in his hand.

In fairness, the gesture does have Derek written all over it.

He carefully rips open the letter, thankfully not wax-sealed like some of the love letters that Will had watched Nursey send in his earlier years at Samwell, and the contents spill out.

Will pick up the letter first and begins to read it.

Dear Will,

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been nine months since I found you again at that gig on the Bowery; it feels like we’ve been exploring New York together for years. But springtime is coming soon again and I’m hoping that I’ll never have to find you again, but instead that you’ll always be in easy reach by my side. You know how you said one night that to you New York is me? Well, in the past nine months, New York has instead become You and Me. I feel like you’re pulling back the curtain and I’m seeing the city I’ve lived in for my whole life in a completely different light. Everything is suddenly so much brighter and more beautiful with you around. I hope that this new light continues with the dawn of this new spring, a third new beginning for us perhaps, but just to make sure, would you do me the honour of moving in with me? I mean, if nothing else, it saves you (and, rather selfishly, me) the commute the Lincoln Park every other night.

I know it’s only been a week, but I miss you so much.

I love you.

Derek.

The other item sitting on the kitchen table in front of Will is a keyring with two keys and a picture of the one of the windows from the current Bowery Mural. The keys are engraved with the numbers #24 and #28 and Will can’t quite hold back the mistiness that begins to gather in his eyes.

Of course, after everything, Derek brings it back to hockey, back to Samwell, back to that period of time when they were inseparable, but constantly at odds with each other, so similar, but so different.

Will carefully threads his old keys onto the new keyring. A third and final new beginning sounds perfect to him.

because everyone's your friend in new york city and everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty the streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see but the best thing about new york city is you and me

#based on the song by cub/they might be giants #but yeah uhh new nurseydex fic just dropped ig #nursey and dex #my writing #its like 3k? #omgcp #nurseydex #i'd post this on ao3 but my boyfriend just found the account lol and they will take the piss out of me for this #so this will probs make it to ao3 eventually

[plentyoffandoms]

Gator Tillman x f/Reader (18+)

Main Masterlist ♡ Miscellaneous TV Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing. Attempted kidnapping. Oral (m receiving) Anal. Unprotected sex. Derogatory name (whore, slut) cum swallowing.

Gifs & Photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @loserboygator 2nd & 4th gifs @gatorstillman 3rd gif @decidemp3

WC: 4025

Summary: Roy has tasked Gator with kidnapping his rival's daughter. Once Gator has her, he soon finds out she will do anything to get back at her controlling, even if that means sleeping with his rival's son.

"Now you know what you to do?" My father asked me while giving me a stern look, waiting for me to speak. He is probably already assuming that I will mess up and disappoint him once more.

But not this time.

I will show him that I will not fail.

"Yes. We know exactly what time him and his wife will be leaving. We wait ten minutes because we know his wife always leaves something at home. I know his daughters bedroom is on the second floor, in the back left-hand corner of the house."

I had to stop and think, but I continued once the rest came to me.

"We know where all the cameras are, and we know that once we are inside, the code to turn off the cameras. Keep our faces covered. No speaking unless we have to. Change the tone of our voice if we do speak, and no real names. Only code names."

I waited with baited breath to see if I missed anything, but my Dad just gave me a hard stare and nodded his in head approval. I let out a breath I had no idea I was holding.

"Do not mess this up, Gator."

"I won't," and I could see it in his eyes that he doesn't believe me.

The plan was all set. It was Thursday night. Date night for my Dad's s rival and his wife. The two of them always head out for the night for dinner and a movie in the next county.

My crew and I pulled up to the side of the road, in two separate cars that we came in, killing the lights.

I looked at the time and saw that it was eight minutes after 6 and that they would soon be leaving for the second time.

I didn't talk to anyone as I watched for the headlights to appear on their long driveway.

It was dark as hell, and their house was the only one for miles. I just know that he will be turning right to head out of the county, and I watched with a smirk on my face as he did exactly what I thought he would do.

They will be gone for hours, and his precious daughter will be home all alone. I know his daughter well enough. We went to school together all our lives but ran in different circles.

But one thing hasn't changed, and that is how protective her father is of her. She was never allowed to join any after-school activities. Had to go home after school, and if there were any group projects, they had to be done at her place.

I remember her once complaining to a friend of hers about wanting to be a cheerleader, but her father told her that 'no daughter of mine will be seen with any football players.'

But did that stop her from enjoying herself during what was considered school hours?

No, it did not.

When she had a spare, you would find his precious daughter under the football bleachers, with some guy, either making out or blowing him. I remember one rumour where it was said she fucked Allan Bennett under there.

I don't know how none of this didn't get back to her father. Everyone probably felt sorry for her as she was basically under house arrest the moment that school bell rang, signalling for us that it was end of day.

I didn't turn on my headlights, not wanting to give her any warning that someone was coming up the driveway.

We drove slow and parked just halfway up the driveway.

Two of us were going in, while two stayed in the car for a quick getaway. I know it is just her in the house. No other person or animal.

The lights in the front rooms of the house were turned off, but I know she is in her room. Her little safe place away from her overbearing father and her flighty mother, who kept herself buzzed with medication and wine.

The masks were on before we got out of the cars.

"Don't fuck this up." Was all I said before we walked straight to the front door. I kept look out as I waited for the door to open. Once I heard the click, I all but pushed him aside and walked slowly through the household.

It hasn't changed since the only time I was here. There was a reason why I knew where exactly her room was.

During our senior year, we had a history project that we had to work on, and I needed a good grade to pass. I was over here every day for four days straight until I stayed past the 6 PM. Her Dad practically threw me out the door the moment he realised I was Roy Tillman's son.

I don't know much of their rivalry, just that it goes back to high school. My Dad beating him out of everything and even being elected sheriff.

But this time around, the two of them were neck and neck with the next election, and there was no way that Roy Tillman was going to lose to a man who would undo everything he had done over his many terms as sheriff.

I found the security system and quickly punched in the code, smirking behind the mask at the fact that I only guessed that the code was her birthday.

I signalled to follow behind me as I headed towards the staircase. The two of us walked slowly up the stairs. I was listening for any signs that she would be heading this way, but I could only hear music coming from her room.

The music was so loud that she didn't even hear me open the door to her room, but she wasn't even paying attention.

She was lying on her back, on her bed, which was still pushed into the corner of the room, her phone above her face.

I took note of what she was wearing, and I felt my dick twitch in my pants. She was wearing the tiniest shorts possible and a long t-shirt that was bunched under her tits.

I shook my head, knowing I had to focus on the task at hand. I pointed to the end of the bed, and my partner walked to the end of the bed.

That is when she noticed that she wasn't alone. Her phone dropped on her face as she screamed.

She tried to run, but she ran straight into my chest as I pushed her back onto her bed.

I grabbed her wrists in my hands as she tried to kick me. My partner took the zip ties and put one around her ankle and another around her wrists.

She was screaming and fighting us the whole entire time. I went to cover her mouth, but she spit at me. I couldn't help but laugh behind the mask as I gripped her cheeks and put duct tape over her mouth.

The last thing I saw before putting a sleeping mask over her eyes was her glaring at me.

I carried her down the stairs and out the front doors, knowing we didn't have much time until her parents came home. Knowing her father has checked the security cameras and seen that they have been turned off.

I placed her in the trunk of my car, her still screaming behind the mask the whole entire time.

I just chuckled as I closed the lid on her, still screaming.

◆

The two cars sped through the hills towards my family's cabin that hasn't been used in years, but I knew this was the best spot to keep her.

We finally stopped in front of the cabin. I came up here a week ago and cleaned the place as it was covered in dust and to get rid of any bugs.

Now it was safe to talk, but I still wasn't going to, which I made it quit clear when I told them this plan.

I opened the trunk, and she didn't fight this time. She was slack over my shoulder as I carried into the cabin.

I placed her on the couch and removed the sleeping mask, and I watched as she blinked a few times, trying to get used to the light once more.

Her focus turned to me, and her eyes narrowed. I could see her lips moving behind the duct tape, and I was wondering what she was saying.

So I decided to rip it off, and she let out a little cry.

She then spit at my feet and turned her glare back towards my face, which was still behind the mask.

"Fuck you, Gator."

Good thing the mask was still on my face because I was shocked that she knew it was me.

"Suprised that I know it is you? You are the only one who in this godforsaken county that wears that much gel in their hair and styles it like that."

I turned to look at the other three and nodded my head to have them follow me outside.

Once the door was closed, I pulled up the mask, and the others followed.

"Go home. She doesn't need to know who you three are."

"Gator, are you sure?"

"Yes. Go. Change the plates like we planned. I can handle her from here."

I saw the three of them look at each other, knowing if that I mess up, they will have to deal with one pissed off Roy.

"I said go." I was starting to get pissed off. Here, I am trying to protect their asses, and they are refusing to leave.

"Look, I will check in with Roy later. He doesn't expect to hear from any of you. Change the plates before you go, and leave one here for me." I turned and walked back into the cabin, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

I sat across from her, and the two of us just looked at one another, not saying a word. I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs, and I saw that she looked down at the movement and then back into my eyes.

"So, did your Daddy put you up to this?" My dick twitched at the way she said, Daddy. "I can only imagine so. I mean, of all the elections, my father is close to beating Roy for once, and I bet your Daddy is scared."

"He isn't scared darlin'." I said much too quickly, letting her know I was lying.

"Oh Gator, the little boy who would do anything for his Daddy's praise, but to only ever end up being a disappointment."

I saw red as I jumped out of the chair and wrapped my still gloved hand around her throat and squeezed.

"Shut your fucking mouth. You have no idea what you are talking about." I didn't notice at the time that her breathing picked up, and she closed her eyes slightly and moaned softly.

"Did I hit a nerve?" She questioned as I let go of her throat and took a step back, glaring down at her.

"You know Gator, you could have just asked me to help you."

"The perfect daughter?" I scoffed as I flopped back into the chair that was across from her.

"You mean the controlled daughter. The daughter who still has a curfew at my age. I still need permission to hang out with friends, go to the movies. You saw how it was for me growing up, and it is worse now."

"What are you saying?" I raised an eyebrow at her, wondering where she was going with all of this.

"I will do anything to get back at my father, and by proxy, my mother, who let's him control me."

"Anything? Why got some dirt on your old man that you can give me?"

Now it was her turn to scoff and chuckle at me. "Him? No, he doesn't even jay-walk. Does the speed limit, doesn't do any illegal drugs, and has no mistresses."

"Then what are you getting at?"

I watched as she bit her lip and looked me up and down. "The only thing he cares about is his image. That is why he has me on such a short leash, and is so controlling. Imagine if word gets out that I, his perfect daughter, ended up sleeping with his rival's son. He would drop out of the election, leaving your father the winner once more."

"And what makes you think I would sleep with you?"

"Oh Gator, I see the way you look at me. Even as teens. Even when I see you at the diner, or when I seem to see you when I am shopping."

She has got me there. Even now, the thought of her willing to sleep with me has me squirming around in my seat, just like I would have done if I was a teenager.

"How will he know you slept with me?"

"Record it."

"You ready?" I asked her, as I looked down at her. She was on her knees and looking up at me. Her wrists were still ziptied, at her request. "More than anything, Gator." She softly said. The way she said my name had a shiver go up my spine.

I pressed the record button on my phone, which I had placed on the table, not far from us. There was no turning back now. I placed my thumb on her bottom lip, and she wrapped her tongue around it and started to suck on it.

"Can't wait to feel your tongue and mouth on my cock." My cock is so hard, and it as has been ever since she suggested fucking me and recording it.

With a loud pop, she let go of my thumb, and I placed the thumb under her chin as I undid my belt and pulled down my pants with her help.

My cock was already leaking as it slapped against my stomach. I gripped my cock with my hand, and jerked it a few times. She stuck her tongue out and I placed the head of my cock on her tongue.

Her eyes closed as she wrapped her lips around the tip, and I had to force myself to keep my eyes open, as I didn't want to miss a single moment of my cock disappearing down her throat. I know she can deep throat. That is all I heard in high school.

My breathing picked up as she slowly took me inch by inch in her mouth and down her throat until her nose was resting in pubic hair.

I gripped the back of her head and held it in place. "Gonna fuck your face darlin'."

I pulled my hips back slightly and then thrust back into her mouth, increasing my speed and pace until I was using her mouth like my own personal flesh light. She had tears streaming down her face, and I decided to give her a break.

I pulled all the way out, and she took a deep breath as soon as she could, but to my suprise, she placed my cock in her mouth and took me completely down her throat once more.

"Oh, you want to be treated like a fuckin' whore huh? Alright." I gripped the back of her head once more. I fucked her mouth for who knows how long. She had spit dripping out of the sides of her mouth, onto her chin and tits.

I pulled out once more, and she was gasping for air, but I didn't pay any mind to that. I gripped her still bound wrists and pulled her up, reaching for the phone and bringing it to her face, wrapping my hand around her throat.

"Say hi to your Daddy." I sneered.

"Hi Daddy." She squeaked.

"You see how much of a little whore your precious daughter is? She just had a Tillman's cock down her throat."

I placed the phone back in position. I sat on the couch and pulled her along with me, making her face the other way so her back was against my chest.

She sat down in my lap, and I spread her legs as far as they could go. Wanting him to see what I am going to do to his precious daughter.

I reached down and started rub her pussy and her clit. She was already soaked. With my other hand, I shoved two fingers inside her tight pussy, swearing at the feeling of her pussy already trying to choke my fingers.

"Pussy so tight, how is my cock going to fit huh?" She didn't say anything as I was moving my fingers in and out of her pussy and rubbing her clit. I stopped running her clit and pulled my fingers out of her pussy.

"What the fuck Gator? I was so," She let out a cry as I slapped her pussy, making her try to close her legs. "You are not the one in charge here. I am. Now me a good girl, and open your mouth."

Her mouth dropped before my sentence was even finished. I shoved the two fingers that were in her pussy, in her mouth and commended she suck, which she did.

"Good girl." I praised as I pulled my fingers from her mouth. I wrapped my arm around her waist and lifted her while my other hand held my cock steady, as I rubbed it against her pussy, making sure that I get it nice and wet.

The moment the tip was engulfed by her warm and tight pussy, I let out a loud moan, as did she. "That's it." I said as she slowly took me inside of her. "I know, darlin', it is too big for your little pussy."

She kept gasping my name as she sunk down on me, now my cock is buried deep in her pussy and we are getting this all on camera. I can only imagine what she looks like as I spread her legs wide.

"Now enjoy the ride, and don't forget to scream my name." I put my arms under her legs and started to pound up into her.

Her head flung back against my shoulder as she cried out my name. "Look at me." I snarled, and she turned her head to look up at me. Her eyes half closed due to the pleasure.

"Who owns this pussy?" I asked loudly, making sure the camera caught what I was saying.

"You do." She replied, but that wasn't good enough for me. I stood up and walked us over to the table, never once leaving her pussy.

I pushed her face forward onto the table and gripped her hip, while my other hand pulled her head back to have her look into the camera.

"I will ask you again, who owns this pussy?"

"Gator." She cried out as she moved her hips, trying to get some type of friction instead of just warming my cock.

"Do not test me. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?" Each word was followed by a hard thrust.

"Fuck! Gator Tillman does. Oh fuck, Gator Tillman." She sobbed out.

"Good girl." Was all she got from me as I pounded into her pussy. My pace was brutal as I fucked her. She screamed out my full name as she came. I almost followed behind her, but I wasn't ready to stop this.

I finally let go of her head to wrap my arm around her waist and pulled her back against my chest. The only sounds in the room are her mumbling my name and my cock going in and out of her pussy.

"Should I fuck your ass too? Let your father know who your real Daddy is?" Her pussy seemed to get tighter, if that was possible around my cock.

I pulled out of her pussy and pushed her forward, once again across the table.

I grabbed the phone and held it in one hand while I placed my cock at the entrance. She instantly relaxed as I pushed forward, getting the tip in first and then slowly thrusting in and out of her ass, all the while, having the phone record all of this.

"Shit." I growled.

"Gator." Was the only thing falling from her lips.

"To fuckin' cock drunk, aren't ya? Like me fucking your holes. Maybe I should keep you, have you dripping with my cum all day every day."

"Please." She has no idea what she is saying please too.

I needed to see her face. Without missing a beat, I pulled her back against my chest once more and looked into the mirror.

Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes half closed. Gripping my arm that was across her chest with her still binded hands.

I brought the camera up, so it was pointed at the mirror. "You're gonna drop from this election. If not, I will make a copy and send it to everybody you know."

"Hold the phone." I told her. I could still see that it was pointing where I wanted it to be. I snaked my hand down her body, all the while still fucking her ass.

I started to rub her clit, making her scream out my name once more. The only thought she had in this state was me and me alone.

"You don't want them to see Roy Tillman's son fuck her face, or sink his cock in her ass."

"Who is making you feel good, baby?"

"Gator Tillman." She moaned. She was close. I could tell.

"Who are you going to cum for?"

"Gator Tillman." I rubbed a bit harder.

Her lower half was shaking. Between me being balls deep in her ass, my fingers rubbing her clit, it was all too much.

"Which family are fuckin' winners?" I snarled just as she came.

"The Tillman's. Oh my, fuck, GATOR." She screamed my name as she came, dropping the phone on the table, but I didn't care.

I fucked her ass through her orgasm, but it all became too much.

With a loud groan, I stilled and came deep in her ass, moaning her name. She gasped my name as she felt me fill her hole with my cum.

I pulled out of her abused hole and moaned at my spend, dripping from her ass onto the floor. I gripped the phone quickly and pointed it at her ass.

"See that." I moved the camera to my face. "You don't want your friends to see your precious daughter for who she really is. Drop out."

I turned off the camera and threw my phone back onto the table.

"Fuck, Gator. Can we take these off?" She asked about her wrists. I cut them off.

"Now, I just got to edit it, and cut out some bits." I said.

The next day, I placed the DVD into the mailbox, addressed to her dad. I know he was panicking, but he had no one to call.

The sheriff's office isn't going to help him, and he knows that. Her father isn't a stupid man, and he knows that Roy is behind this.

Not even an hour later, I got a text from my Dad saying that her father dropped out of the election.

"Seems he has seen it. Dropped out of the election." I said as her mouth moved up and down my cock.

"That's great." She said as she pulled her mouth off my cock.

"I didn't say stop." I snarled, pushing her head down to take me back into her mouth.

A few moments later, I was groaning her name as I came, her swallowing as fast as possible not to waste a single drop.

The phone went off again, and I read the message from an unknown number. "Keep her." I read it out loud.

"I just might."

She knew at that moment that she went from being controlled by her father to now being controlled by me.

#reader imagine #female reader #reader insert #fargo #fargo fx #fargo fanfic #fargo smut #fargo imagine #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x f/Reader #gator tillman imagine #gator tillman fic #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman #joe keery

[riise-my-anngel]

Idk i just think theres something to say the brothers all realizing what time period you are trapped in and the way they fall apart.

Lucifer and Belphie understand the others fear. Both of them came close to, or succeeded in killing you and they know that time period they WILL try again and thats terrifying. They've done a lot to personally grow from their actions towards you.

And they both have nights where they sit in Lucifers study, drinks in their hand, discussing if they could live with themselves if you are killed by their past selves. And also what happens if you come back, but sre scared or lost trust in their present selves.

Its the most honest the two of of them have been in a long time. Their unique out of the brothers. Their violence towards you was unforgivable but yet you not only forgave them but now love them. Lucifer and Belphie are powerless to protect you from their past selves and they hate themselves for being such violent demons that they know hurting you is probable.

Satan, well, no one understands. He barely does. His room is a wreck. He hasn't been like this in centuries. He has no idea what his past self is capable of towards you all he remembers is his hate for his brothers and no amount of magic would spare you from his wrath tearing your body into peices.

Everyone at RAD is terrified of Satan, everyone who isn't the brothers, angels, or the royals refuse to bring your name up. He's already had to pay for damaging quite a few walls and doors because lesser demons would comment to him about him "finally losing his dumb little pet".

It isn't lost on Satan that the very fact that you're trapped in a time period where his wrath is dangerous and unpredictable, and that has led his present self to cope by being dangerous and unpredictable. He just isn't himself without you anymore.

Levi is lost in a fantasy world. Its easier to pretend you're just in your room if he hides away to his anime and his video games. He can just pretend everything is fine but the second he remembers your not there? Well the HoL isn't the only place that has had issues with Lotan being summoned. A lesser demon made a comment about the "human finally moving on from the lord of losers" and whoops guess that demon and quite a few others drowned to death. Over and over again until Diavolo had to step in and make Levi stop.

Beel can't figure out if he's ravenous or if he never wants to eat again. He fluctuates, some days he destroys whatever kitchen he's in, be it HoL, RAD cafeteria or just whatever restaurant he happens to be nearby. Other days he spends hours in the kitchen making your favourite devildom food, trying to recreate the human world food you two made together, but once its done he feels sick to his stomach that you can't just be there cooking with him and he can't see that shy smile you hide behind your hand when you have something you love. So he just tosses them onto the dining table for the brothers and goes to Fangol practice instead. At least he is more allowed to be aggressive there.

This is worse then losing Lilith, because he might never know what happened to you. Protecting people was his JOB and if he couldn't protect you, then its worse then having to choose betwern siblings lives. It means Beel failed before even trying, in his eyes.

Asmo doesn't recognize himself. He didn't realize how much time his vanity was actually spent with you in his chair and him draped over you behind him constantly doting on you. He buys things he thinks you'd look stunning in or things with your favorite scent and as soon as he gets home? Well not much gets kept. He throws the bottles at his tub until its a scattered mess of liquids that needs to be cleaned and clothes he bought you get torn up. Why should he keep them if you never come home, they would just be a reminder of what he can never see again. He doesn't recognize his reflection without you. You love him for who he is not what he looks like, but all alone he can never see the good you saw in him and he hates that all is left in his reflection is a bitter, miserable demon who lost the only person who loves him for his inner self.

No one even tries to sleep with him, he didn't fool around once you two shared your feelings but now hes offended at even being propositioned. These demons, succubus and incubus, they all just see his face and body and want a peice. You looked him in the eye and fell in love without any charm or magic. Who do these people think they are assuming they could ever live up to you? Many nights he goes out, he ends up physically attacking people who dare get too touchy with him.

Mammon tried. He really did. He wanted to keep his brothers together, but it just isn't working. No one knows if you're alive anymore and Solomon has stopped bothering trying to send word through time to update on your status. Once Solomon stopped? The brothers couldn't stand listening to Mammon being calm and rational anymore. No one knew if you were ever coming back and Mammon didn't know how to make them believe otherwise when he didn't know himself.

He's not in the house a lot anymore. He spent too much time with you in that house he can't stand the sight of it. Ironically he's never been richer. He doesn't see the joy in schemes or ploys without you to scold yet indulge him, you're not around to spend it on, so he just gambles. Wins more, has nothing to do with so he gambles.

In a winning streak, he'd either pull you right to his side or just haul you onto his lap to show off his pretty little good luck charm. Now he's winning all on his own and he doesn't give a shit about any of the people around vying for his attention or time. They ain't you, but he'll take their money cus what else is he going to do. You're not there and no one has the right to even think they could replace you.

They all know one thing though. If you never come back, Solomon better never come back either because they'll take out every single bit of pain on him for as long as the sorcerer could survive it.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

[markantonys]

Someone on Twitter:

"Have we even had a scene showcasing Rand's potential/ power? Neither the Eye of the World nor the "battle“ with Ishamael felt like Rand's accomplishments I think."

I'm tired. 1. The Eye absolutely counts. 2. Okay I was underwhelmed with the Ishy battle I wanted it to be more flashy cause that was supposed to be his declaring himself Dragon moment and that definitely didn't land for me because of that. 3. Did Turak and his soldiers not count? That was brutal and efficient and definitely shows his potential imo. Rand doesn't even reach the same power levels that he does at the Eye bookwise til at least Knife of Dreams so like...I think people need to chill

man i'm so tired of people who have no idea how power progression is supposed to work lmao if they want rand to be having flashy big showdowns in the first 2 seasons then they'd better be prepared for him to feel stagnant and/or like a letdown in future seasons 🤷 you just know they'd be going "but why isn't rand able to do X in this season when he could do it LAST season?" if the show did exactly what the early books did in constantly giving rand a big blowout moment at the end of one book and then resetting him to being a helpless baby channeler at the start of the next one.

as for his ishy showdown not being ~flashy~ enough or not being ~his moment~, that's literally the point. it's a pyrrhic victory for rand - he was able to defeat ishy, but absolutely would not have been capable of it without his friends & moiraine assisting him (and risking their own lives to assist him, at that), and i'm sure he's very aware of this. this will motivate him to be desperate enough to improve his channeling skills that he's willing to get training from a forsaken. simple as that. if he was already skilled enough to have a big exciting moment of self-obtained victory in 2x08, then why would he need asmodean to train him in s3? audiences wouldn't buy him being desperate enough to resort to something so drastic.

especially since the show has upped the threat level of the forsaken massively and is actually making them frightening villains. book!asmodean is sad wet and pathetic for all of his onscreen-time despite his evil backstory, so it doesn't feel that risky for rand to take him as a teacher, but if show!asmodean is made more competent & scary in the same way as ishy, lanfear, and moggy (based on her one scene) have been, then that means rand is taking a much bigger risk in the eyes of the audience and we thus need a much stronger reason to believe he would be wiling to take such a risk. rand needs to consistently fail in the early seasons so that he's motivated to improve his skills by any means necessary in s3, same as how nynaeve needs to consistently fail so that she's motivated to break her block by any means necessary. basic cause and effect here, people! basic character progression! characters need to fail so that they can grow, and people who do not understand this have no business criticizing the storytellers who do understand it (not directing this at you here anon haha just at the annoying crew whining about rand and nynaeve Not Getting To Succeed At Anything).

"bUt EgWeNE-" egwene is not the same character as rand, and thus is not developing at the exact same rate as rand, and thus is allowed to have her victories whenever it suits HER progression, even if rand hasn't gotten his victories yet. egwene's victory came in 2x08 because s2 is when her biggest formative storyline of the early books occurs, whereas in s3/TSR she takes a step back while rand comes to greater prominence with HIS biggest formative storyline of the early books. and egwene sure as hell had her share of failures in s2 before getting her victory, just the same as rand even if he needs to cook a little longer before getting his own victories.

#anonymous #answered #wot book spoilers

[666writingcafe]

Meanwhile...

Mammon

I know I'm being stupid. I shouldn't be following Simeon to his room after he blew up at us in the dining car. If he's anything like Satan, I might as well start digging my grave.

But I can't leave him alone. I don't know why; it's just a gut feeling that I have. Still, my gut has never led me astray. And I'm not talking about when its judgment is clouded by greed, but during situations like this one. You know, life and death sorta things.

I take a deep breath before opening the sliding door. Simeon's back is turned to me, appearing to look out the train window.

"Hello, Mammon." His voice sounds eerily calm, like how Lucifer gets sometimes right before he begins torturing people.

I can't flee. I have to see this through.

"Dude, what happened back there? I've never seen you react like that, not even during the war."

"That is none of your concern." Simeon slightly turns his head to the right. "Tell me, why did you feel the need to bully Luke?"

"That wasn't my original intention--"

"Answer the question."

"I will, if you'll let me finish!" Silence. "Look, I believe he needs to be taught how to relax. He's way too uptight. I mean, he can't even take a little joke! The kid's a real piece of work."

"It's only a joke when everyone involved finds it amusing."

"Well, I can't help wantin' to tease him sometimes! In some ways, he kinda reminds me of myself when I was that age."

"Oh, really?" Simeon doesn't believe me.

"Seriously?! Don't you remember what I was like once upon a time?"

"A nuisance?"

"Naive, Simeon. I was that lost puppy. Cute, friendly, energetic, but incredibly oblivious to what the real world was like. I mean, isn't that why you guys are sendin' him to the Devildom and human world in the first place?" He sighs.

"Yes."

"It's almost been three years, and yet from this side of things he hasn't learned jackshit. He's still convinced that the way angels do things is the right way. He doesn't wanna even consider that he could be wrong."

"Oh, like you're doing much better," Simeon snaps.

"At least I'm doing something! You're just standing around and waiting for Luke to discover the world on his own. He needs guidance! And sometimes that means forcing him to experience new things whether he likes it or not!"

"And who are they going to blame when shit hits the fan, Mammon?" Simeon's facing me now, staring daggers into my face. "You were in charge of MC during the exchange program; what would have happened if a demon decided to have them for lunch during their first ever week in the Devildom?"

"The demon would get in trouble, obviously. But I'm not sure what this has to do with Luke--"

"Do you wanna know what else would have happened?" I'm not going to get another word in until he's done ranting, am I?

"People would have begun asking questions," Simeon quickly continues. "'Where was Mammon at the time?' 'Why didn't he stop the demon from eating MC?' And if you weren't able to come up with acceptable answers to those questions, your ass would have been on the line, because you failed to do your job.

"Oh, maybe you'd escape with a light punishment. After all, you have friends in high places that can bail you out of trouble. But what if you used up all your chances? What if protecting MC and ensuring they survived the exchange program was the one thing that would save you from a fate worse than death? What would you do then, Mammon?"

Oh my God...I knew he'd gotten demoted due to his lack of cooperation during the early stages of the war, but I didn't realize he was that close to being sent there. It's the one place in the Devildom that the Celestial Realm has control over, and it's usually reserved for the worst of the worst. The truly irredeemable.

And he's right. Being sentenced there is a fate worse than death.

"Simeon, I'm sorry. I...I didn't know." I walk over to him and tentatively hover my hand over his shoulder. He remains still, allowing me to rest my hand on there.

"Only Michael and Raphael do," he whispers. "They were the ones that offered me the guardianship over Luke. If anything happens to him, they won't show me mercy again, especially in light of them discovering that fucking notebook."

"You know Lord Diavolo would take you in." Simeon shakes his head.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my existence serving him." He pauses. "I'm sure he's a kind master, but he still rules over you guys. I want to be under my own power."

"What about MC?" The question slips out of my mouth, causing a corner of Simeon's to curve up slightly.

"That is an arrangement I'd prefer to keep between me and them."

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me mc

[starglowwos]

quick note before i start ranting: last night i started thinking. and then i started ranting in discord. and it got off track. and then i woke up this morning and had a similar thought. so this is just a stream of thoughts from me, really, lmao also, absolutely all of this is from memory, there's a good chance i got some stuff wrong (and i also include a lot of headcanons based off estimates and stuff i don't think would be a stretch), so yeah lmao this is kinda like a thought experiment or something

thinking,, thinking about c!martyn and his birthday

3rd life started 2 weeks after his birthday, last and double life weren't close, rats missed it, pirates has a good chance of missing it, and that's in the future anyway

only limited life included it

martyn… spends the rest of his time in a void, regardless of which route you take, datastream or eyesandears (as we don't know how they connect yet, they're mostly separate? kinda? idk its complicated)

so… what's better: having your birthday in the midst of a death game, in a world that isn't real but feels painfully so, or alone in a void?

in a dark void where you're unconscious most of the time, and when you're not, you're being taunted? or in a green void where you can't so much as sleep like you had to back in the world you were torn from, the world that you only have one actual connection with, your only glimpse of reality being of that who trapped you in this mess and doesn't care enough to get you out already?

martyn's first birthday in the datastream likely would've been limited life, if that's how that would work (again, datastream~eyesandears, complicated)

he's still got another good 7 months until his next one

will he be out of the datastream by then? will doc have finally figured it out?

…why hasn't he yet?

…that's a question for another day. (sure, maybe he's said that dozens of times before, but… now's not the time, is all)

(…besides, it seems like he cares. but…- no, question for another day. whatever a day even is. he only really knows because doc makes him journal for every one that passes, not because it really holds any meaning right now.)

would he rather spend his birthday lonely and paranoid, lonely and paranoid, or lonely and paranoid?

either

in constant fear of death, being able to see just how much time you have left until then, knowing it could skip ahead by an hour or even two at a moment's notice.

people who were supposed to be your friends (and perhaps were in another life) trying to kill you on your birthday, throwing explosives down from the clouds onto your party on the one day you maybe thought you'd be allowed to enjoy yourself.

(and yeah, maybe you were planning on blowing up everyone else, too, but when you're red, can you really be blamed for wanting to spill some blood?)

(…everyone else feels like that, don't they? you're not the only one. you're stupid for thinking you'd be an exception to their bloodlust just because it's your birthday.)

or

in a void where your only waking moments aren't good ones. where you're taunted and berated and ridiculed for your mistakes, where you start to believe what you're told, that you failed your one job despite being given so many chances.

the void in which you last see Them before your only anything between these games abandon you for years?- months on end, only to reappear a game later in hopes of ruining your life. and you're pretty damn scared They succeeded. (you've felt, just, bad, for so long, that you're not sure things can get worse, yet they manage to every time. you're not sure when things got this bad, but it's Their fault, you know it is.)

…you're unconscious most of the time in this void, anyway. you're not sure why it feels like such an eternity every time.

or

in a lime green void, stretching on virtually endlessly (heh, virtually… ah, this is what you've resorted to for entertainment, isn't it?), with access to all you could ever dream of?

sure, maybe not the impossible—that's, well, impossible—and maybe not things that haven't been created yet, maybe some things are locked behind paywalls you can't bypass, or, or need for accounts–

oh, did you mention you can't leave any trace of your existence either? there's quite a few restrictions, actually—no accounts, no anonymous comments, no privacy, no friends, no family, no food, no drink, no sleep, no- no bodily functions, no.. no concrete sense of self, no… fellow(? are you even human anymore?) human interaction…

well, besides doc, but he's… busy. too busy to help you get out of here, too busy to…

to care where you land after pushing you through a portal to an unknown world with little to no warning,

to get… worried, when you stay months in the same game world, because these- these missions are meant to be a, a quick in and out, maybe a week, usually less, not… three whole months, and…

fuck did that hurt, leaving them all, but… the sooner you complete these missions for doc—what even are these missions, anyway? why-—the faster you'll be out of the datastream and.. back to reality. back to.. home… you think.

(why do these missions have such big gaps between them?

why– how is doc presumably fighting CHEST all by himself (well, not all by himself, you are the datastream defender, after all, even if that is just a made up title to make yourself feel better, even if you're barely an asset as opposed to a liability to doc)?

what does global ramifications entail?

why hasn't doc figured out how to get you out of here yet?

why does he not spend any time with you, he's your only real human contact, and even then, it's flakey!?

why does he make you journal every day? to keep you sane? you mean, it's hardly working, but why?

if doc cares, it'd be more than just whatever this is. or–…

…you've had this conversation before. you're just out of touch with social interaction. players and npcs are nothing like real people. you're just… wrong. and doc's right, because doc knows what's going on, and you don't, save for some tiny morsels of information. right. …nevermind.)

this is where i stopped ranting for the night, and i pick it back up on a similar topic this morning ^^

i wonder if, in the datastream lore, rats and pirates are made by the same people or not

if doc would have access to that information, if he would purposefully start avoiding powcreations, or purposefully seek out their game worlds

is martyn spending months in a game world, having fun instead of doing his job, a good thing in any way, in doc's eyes? or is it solely a distraction or vulnerability?

martyn goes to all these game worlds for a reason, he needs to find loot shards so doc can deal with them, but how does doc feel about martyn staying months instead of days? of martyn having fun? growing attached? forming emotional bonds with people who aren't real?

(doc tells martyn they aren't real. martyn has no reason not to believe him on that. (in fact, martyn tells himself they aren't real, because if they were, he's not sure he'd handle that well.) even though players can be awakened, they're still ultimately under an actual human's control—doc's told martyn this. martyn is... a special case. (and if they aren't quick enough, his situation could lose its uniqueness to the enemy. which, if it wasn't clear, isn't a good thing.))

it's ultimately not healthy, martyn knows, but he's been in the datastream a little over a year at this point. the only human interaction he has is doc, who barely seems to have time for him, and CHEST agents (he thinks? they may just be AI), which are actively trying to kill him, whatever that would mean for him. he doesn't like the thought.

so, maybe he's a bit lonely—okay, maybe very lonely—so can you really blame him for wanting to indulge? i mean… even if it isn't really reality, what's stopping it from acting as one? he'll… he'll always have to leave eventually, but… he may as well enjoy himself while he has the chance, right?

so what's to stop him from making friends with oli the trash rat, or oli the pirate? (they're almost eerily similar, all things considered, but martyn guesses that's what happens when you get lazy devs. everything else seems to have so much care put into it, though... why would they put in such little effort to player characters when so much goes into everything else?)

what's to stop him flirting with half the players on the faction isles and being responsible for the nickname "kisstrels"?

what's to stop him having a genuinely good time?

leaving rats was hard. it was the first time he felt he truly belonged somewhere in how long? longer than the datastream, for sure.

he was really starting to struggle at that point with the crushing loneliness and feelings of unreality, if he's honest. rats... rats was nice. rats was probably some of the most fun he's had.

and leaving pirates has every chance to be even harder.

with these new scars appearing (which he would assume to be a design thing if it weren't for the fact that they stayed with him in the datastream itself), and these new feelings occurring without reason or rhyme, he's starting to feel uneasy about being stuck in the datastream again. (he's never not felt uneasy about it. he just… manages to push it to the back of his mind(? does he still have one of those?), sometimes.)

he's spent a lot of his time thinking—a lot about the rats, admittedly—why does scott feel so much more familiar now than he did even after he left rats? so many of the rats always felt familiar, especially jimmy and oli, but why does he miss scott all of a sudden?

weird feelings like that had been beginning to pop up the past few months, along with scars he has no explanation for—i mean, seriously, why does he have at least three scars shaped like a four-pointed star? what would even cause that? he's fairly sure there's more, as well!—and it's been making him uneasy. most of all, it's been making him lonely.

pirates came at a good time, he thinks.

maybe his introduction wasn't the best, what, with doc shoving him through a portal just for him to fall from the sky into the ocean, then immediately getting scammed by scar—

why does scar feel so familiar? why does that seem so in character for him? he hasn't been in another game world which used his assets, has he?

—just to go to this weird corrupted purple island and lose two people along the way—

why does doc always put him in the center of the story? it can get so stressful at times! i mean, rats was stressful enough even before the other rats did stuff like blow up the boiler!

—but... i mean, he made a song for pirates. that's something he'd only previously done for rats (and wow, was that process painful, can you imagine how hard it is to make music while being a rat and staying secretive about your mission? speaking of secrets, he got pretty lucky with the whole pirate thing, for once he can be truthful about some part of why he's here, even if he has to stay vague), and even then, that wasn't really a serious song. this one's a full on song, water made sheet music and everything!

so, evidently, it's not that bad. it's quite the opposite, actually. martyn thinks he's going to have a pretty good time here, as a pirate.

(he's not sure why the pirate aesthetic, and the oceanic/aquatic aesthetic as a whole, actually, feels so familiar. like he's done this sort of thing recently...?

and... scott. scott feels related to that, for some reason. and scott's a heron, martyn fucking hates the herons (he'd never admit it, maybe except to the rats in his boots, but they're actually not that bad. it's more like a sibling rivalry, than anything).

…does this have something to do with martyn randomly missing rat scott the past few months? …does he miss rat scott, or does he miss scott? …these aren't real people, martyn, get it together, it's fine. you're fine. nothing to worry about.)

#itlw #itlwlore #inthelittlewood #eyesandears #martyn rats smp #martyn pirates smp #pirates smp martyn #rats smp martyn #c:/sgos/gold #c:/sgos/talking #cw unreality #cw paranoia

[bonefall]

you talk about clear sky likes he’s this huge tyrant or something. now i haven’t read dawn of the clans in a long time but was he really that bad? i don’t remember a lot of things that happen in that arc btw. or did you make him even worse with the bonefall rewrite??

i should reread dawn of the clans

Things Canon Clear Sky does;

Throw his disabled brother into the wilderness to die

Reject his only surviving son because its mother died in a building collapse after leaving in protest of all his violence

Come back only once that son is grown and useful

Refuse to care for a clanmate with an infected wound, kicking him out

Tells his son to lick the pus off his friend's wound if he cares about him so much, publicly

A lot of public humiliation in general

Is 1 of 2 suspects in the mauling of a battered housewife who dies of her injuries

General warmongering

Responds to the idea of peace talks by taking a prisoner of war

Starves that prisoner of war to the point of emaciation after promising to care for him while he's detained

Starts the bloody First Battle when the starving prisoner of war catches a bat because he hasn't eaten in days

Dozens of people die in this completely pointless and avoidable fight. They cannot dig the mass grave in one day.

Murders Rainswept Flower during this, saying he "got so mad he didn't know what he was doing". This is accepted as a reasonable excuse lmao something is deeply wrong with these writers.

And that's all BEFORE the "Redemption Arc." He continues to act like this but now the narrative decides he's good now and everyone's mean to him for holding him accountable for his actions, he's so sorry guys :(((

After his redemption arc;

Loudly whines and complains that StarClan is forcing him to take an outsider, Micah, as a doctor

Treats him poorly while he's in SkyClan, shown to be verbally abusive every time it comes up (Micah insists he's not so bad if you give it back to him, though this is shown to not be true)

Foists a Clanborn apprentice onto him immediately, Acorn Fur, with the implication that she will replace him as soon as possible.

Refuses to allow Moth Flight and Micah to gather sap for another Clan, knowing denying medicine will kill someone

Orders Red Claw to fight Micah, getting Micah killed

Refuses to allow Moth Flight to finish Acorn Fur's training

When his baby son gets mauled by a fox, he refuses to allow Acorn Fur to go get help until infection sets in

He blames Wind Runner for this because she held Moth Flight back for like 5 minutes.

Holds Moth Flight as a prisoner of war when she needs that sap again until Wind Runner apologizes for killing his baby

So in short; he is canonically an awful tyrant and I'm barely making him any worse in my rewrite. I'm just making it so he doesn't have a failed 'redemption arc' because he didn't even actually change in-canon.

I don't care how "scared and sad" he was when he was doing war crimes. His motivations are piss poor excuses for justifications and his botched redemption arc is one of the worst plots the writers ever hatched.

#This is a Clear Sky hate blog #All my homies hate Clear Sky #Re: is is a GOOD villain! He should stay that way #It just so happens that like 75% of the Clear Sky asks are inquiring about his redemption arc #I'm guessing it's because it's fun to see me rip into him lmaooo #You are like curious onlookers dipping various meat bones into a pool with 1 very ravenous piranha #Seeing how quickly I strip the skeleton #Warrior cats analysis #Also this post is going around again so I did an edit #I read DOTC again and it's worse than I remembered