#okay so i said i was over art block which was MOSTLY true because i have had inspiration and etc occasionally

[kchasm]

Ryu Number: Risto Mejide

Risto Mejide is a Spanish music producer, known also for his appearance as a judge on a number of reality talent shows. He's known for his harsh and caustic criticism, making him something like a Spanish Simon Cowell—

Okay, listen. I'm going to cop to this: I didn't know who Risto Mejide was a week ago and I still mostly have no idea. Everything in that last paragraph I got off a couple of Wikipedia pages. No, the reason you're seeing this Ryu Number post is because I played History Warriors, and by gum, I am going to wring this utterly minuscule drop of value out of that arid desert stone. I can't have suffered for nothing, right?

History Warriors is not a good game.

History Warriors is a fighting game in the sense that I Spy is a competitive activity—yes, that's true, but if it's the highlight of your local tourney it's a sign that something has gone terribly wrong.

The plot of the game is as follows: After the fall of Nazi Germany, Hitler was secretly tucked away into some sort of suspended storage. Now he's awake, and he's gotten access to time travel technology, which he's used to pull a number of famous historical characters (William Shakespeare, Cleopatra, Abraham Lincoln, Joan of Arc, Che Guevara, Shaka, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Napoleon) to the present day with the end goal of irreversibly mucking up the timeline. Not exactly high lit, but as far as an excuse to get a bunch of disparate characters at each other's throats, it's at least more creative than another martial arts tournament.

Unfortunately, History Warriors—and I've said this already but it bears repeating—is not a good game. It's a bunch of free-to-low-cost assets compressed into a weeping mass by a developer, "Clipstories, Inc.," which is almost certainly just a handful of folks in Spain who know each other. Characters all have the same standard attacks—a high punch, a low punch, a high kick, and a low kick. There are special projectile moves but attempting to view the manual from the Steam page redirects to the game's official site (as much as anything about this game can be called "official"), which... doesn't exist anymore.

The computer-controlled characters do know how to use the projectiles, of course. The projectiles are, incidentally, completely unavoidable, too large to jump and too low to duck. Can you block? You can block. The input for blocking is also the input for backing up, which is a fighting game norm, except that in History Warriors when your character is moving backward they aren't automatically blocking, as far as I can tell, so effectively what happens when you press back is that your characters blocks for a second and then starts walking backward defenselessly.

(I freely admit I might be slightly wrong there, but like hell I'm going to go back and analyze the mechanics.)

When two characters' attacks meet—two characters hit each other at the same time, in other words—rather than the attacks canceling each other out, they both go through. This means that the victor of the round is essentially decided by which character has the longest limbs (balance is a thing that happens to other fighting games). A further hampering comes in the form of hitboxes that have been placed, to put it charitably, unpredictably. Often floating an appreciatable length off from the end of a fighter's limb, in fact.

My main strategy in beating this game was to get in my opponent's space first thing before they could start throwing their impossible-to-avoid projectiles and spam a kicking to the shins. It barely worked, but it worked enough that I could get through each playable characters' lineup of opponents... after a lot of game overs, anyway (you don't have to start from the beginning if you lose—thank goodness for small favors).

The worst offense, though, after all this, is that the game isn't even entertainingly bad. Sure, on the surface—and especially with its awfully silly concept—History Warriors seems like the type of Bad Video Game that'd be perfect for some streamer to make fun of playing for a couple hours. But with every character essentially an identical fighter save for reach and the quickness with which strategy devolves into slurry, the whole damn thing is just a slog.

To wrap up this thesis: History Warriors is a bad game, and I think I've made that as clear as I can. But this is the internet, and the internet is chock full of productions of terrible quality that don't deserve a critical haranguing, stories and games and songs and videos that might accurately be called flawed or even subpar, but which were put together by creators who, for what skill they lacked, worked with sincerity and a motivation sourced from the joy of creation. I firmly believe that that's admirable in its own way—that it's behavior that ought to be encouraged, even through the stinkers.

That said—

There is no universe where this was worth fifteen dollars.

...Oh, right, Ryu Numbers. Uh, when you beat the game with a character it turns out they can't go back to their original time, so you get a still image showing what they're up to in the present day. Lincoln runs for President again, Napoleon streams video games, Che's at Occupy Wall Street—it's all very uninspired. When you beat the game as Mozart, he ends up on a talent show with an MS Paint mic.

Copyright infringement is a thing that happens to other developers, so the judges are clearly identifiable as being from Got Talent España, the Spanish version in the Got Talent franchise. From the fourth season, it seems.

See? Same digs.

Admittedly, my knowledge of the Spanish language begins and ends at "biblioteca," but Wikipedia tells me that this judge lineup consisted of Risto Mejide, Edurne, Eva Isanta, and Paz Padilla, so barring it turning out, I don't know, this particular episode had a guest replacing him and I couldn't tell because I'm garbage at facial recognition or something, Risto Mejide has a Ryu Number of 2, or 3 if you don't like Minecraft.

You know what's worse? This is probably the quickest way to get to Che Guevara, too.

#Ryu Number #minecraft #minecraft (bedrock ed.) #cleopatra #history warriors #risto mejide #super smash bros. ultimate #mario #mario's time machine #mario's time machine (pc ver.) #wolfgang amadeus mozart

[eyelessfog]

Protector

Created 4 funzies after seeing this art by @sunnysmc !!!

A bit of information that might help you understand the story: Takes place in hermitcraft, but is talking about empires. Cut-off servers are servers that completely cut off memories of outside servers [which i hc to exist alongside what USUALLY happens between servers, which is that the memories stay, but the emotions and thought process isn’t there.]

---

Pearl didn’t visit often.

Or, at least, when she did, False wasn’t awake or at home.

They’d pass each other a... reasonable amount! As reasonable as you can get, when False was really busy with her builds, and was generally trying to do her own thing in the mountains, while Pearl was also building her own things, but also keeping a shop that was significantly more hands on than anyone else’s. They’d wave in the shopping district, sometimes.

That was mostly it.

But, anyway, the point was, Pearl didn’t visit often.

So, when she swooped in on elytra that had feathers instead of the flat bug-like shape that elytra usually had, False just assumed that she had missed something. Something big. It happens sometimes, when you hang out in the mountains and don’t pay attention to whatever was going on in everyone else’s bases.

“Hi, Pearl!” False said, waving.

Pearl made a slow loop over her head, then dropped, wings flying open to slow her fall just as she was to touch the floor.

Elytra didn’t do that.

What?

Pearl looked mellow, which was weird, because she was usually a little bit more bouncy than this, and also a little more slouched shoulders, tilted head, a silly grin, and hands always ready to grab something, if they weren’t full already.

Now, she was stood straight, shoulders squared, lips pressed into a line, and for the half second after Pearl’s smooth landing, False watched her hands fumble for a place by the end of her shorts, before pausing and clasping together delicately. Hm. False sometimes forgot that Pearl could have a bit of height on her when she was standing straight.

“Um,” False said, because she was feeling a little bit like Pearl was about to be the barer of bad news, and False didn’t particularly like bad news, so-

“Hello, False.”

Okay! Okay. Alright! Pearl was sounding super solemn, which was fine, and definitely didn’t mean that False was getting kicked off the server or something- well, actually, that specific worry was a little stupid, since Xisuma would come tell her whatever he wanted to tell her all on his own. And probably give her some time to prepare for what he wanted to say after sending her a private message. So. The whole worrying thing would need to find some other reason.

“What, uh, what brings you here?” False asked, slowly hooking her pickaxe to her belt and slipping her deepslate into her pockets. This whole thing was feeling very formal, and there was nothing less formal than holding onto your building blocks and a pickaxe! Probably.

“Well,” Pearl said, offering an amused smile. “I’d like to say that I shouldn’t need a reason to see a friend, but, well. I need a favour, so I’d be a bit of a hypocrite.”

“Oh, well, I’d be happy to help!”

“You haven’t even heard what I’m asking of you.” 

“This is- this is true, yes. Um. What’s up?” False asked. Pearl wasn’t moving around as they talked, which was making False not want to move while they talked, out of some sort of politeness, even though False was actually getting a little jittery! She’d never felt so off put by a conversation. It really did suck.

“You know the other server I’ve been on? The cutoff one.” Pearl tilted her head, and False ran through servers she knew the others were in.

“Um, what was it- That last life thing? That was a cutoff series, wasn’t it? Ah, but that one’s over.”

“Ah, well, last life wasn’t cutoff actually, just dulled the memories a little more. No, I meant Empires.”

False snapped her fingers at the name, nodding. “Right, right! I remember that! Yes, Empires. Did something happen?”

“Well, they’re starting it up again, I noticed,” Pearl said, and looked away, almost guiltily. Um?

“That’s cool! Fwhip sent an invite?” False asked, then grimaced as Pearl’s face turned even guiltier.

“Not quite. I think I’ve been... prematurely let in. In spectator mode.” She touched a hand to her lips, pondering, then sighed. “Okay, hold on, I was going to just ask you the favour, but I think this needs context.”

Okay. Context. Alright. False would love some of that!

“So, I’m not too sure Fwhip is quite aware of my being on the server yet. Because, the thing is, I declined his invite to the planning of the second season.” False’s brows rose, because that was not at all how this sort of thing worked. “I’ve been on the server, and it’s all those fun pre-roleplay server things - People living out their stories before we come and take over, and I’ve seen everyone, and they’re... They’re not doing great, False. I only met one personally, and it was Joel, and he’s...” Whatever had come over her to make her seem so serious just dropped. Her shoulders fell, and she pressed a hand over her mouth, brows furrowing.

“Is he-?” False didn’t know what she was asking. Was he hurt? Mean? Something else that she couldn’t put words to?

“He’s- he’s fine. He- I won’t say that there’s nothing wrong with him, it’s just- the last time I saw him was a thousand years ago.” Pearl thought for a moment. “Longer.”

“Pardon?” False asked.

“I haven’t been logging into the server. I’ve been dreaming it.” Pearl locked eyes with False, and she looked desperate. “I’ve been living hundreds of years every time I go to sleep, and then coming back to here. I’ve been a God for hundreds of years, and when I come back, I’m mortal, and I’m corrupted by an alien.” 

“You’re a God?” False asked, eyes wide. Then the rest of the sentence translated in her mind, and: “You’re corrupted by an alien?”

“I’m a God there, yes.” Pearl brushed off the second question easily. “The Mother of Sunflowers, to some. The God of farming, mostly. The God of the sun itself, sometimes. And I’m... For the past little while, I haven’t been with the other Gods. Or, well-” she chuckled. “The others are, as far as I’ve seen, dead. And I just live on an island that isn’t even in the world, but close enough that I can watch.”

“I don’t- Pearl, um, how am I supposed to help you with this?” False scratched at her forehead with a knuckle, then crossed her arms.

“I wanted to ask you if you could be part of Empires.” Pearl stepped closer, and False recognized the twitch of her fingers as pulling back the instinct to grab her hands. “I’ll send you in myself, you don’t need to ask Fwhip for an invite.”

“Can you do that?” False asked, instead of saying no, because she was feeling a little bit like she was going to say yes.

“A God, False.” She smiled, opened her hands and made the dramatic choice of pulling a glowstone out of her inventory. It popped into existence in her hand, and disappeared as she curled her hand back closed. “He didn’t give me admin powers, but, well, I have them.”

“Okay, okay, but, uh- why me?” That was the one thing that False wasn’t getting. Pearl wanting outside help - well, False could understand that. But, well, Pearl was in that- that- what. The soup batch? Or something? Gem was part of Empires already, so it would be assumed that it would maybe be nice to have the third member be there with them?

“False, you’re known as a PvP queen.” It was a statement, not a question, and False tucked her head bashfully.

“Well, yes, I’m pretty good. A little rusty, now, but-”

“False,” Pearl said, a little fond, a little tired. “I think- I think you could protect them, False.”

“You think I could- I mean, maybe, but I don’t-” False paused. Thought it over. Thought it over again. “You think that there’s something I should fight for them?”

“I think they’ll need protection. Our world was a dangerous place, and it hasn’t stopped being dangerous. There are other reasons, now, but I think...” Pearl sighed. “False, I just want to know if you’d be willing to join the server. To protect them.”

“To protect them? I- um, sure. Yes. Yeah.” False nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Okay.” Pearl paused. “Alright. Thank you.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Pearl’s eyes turned to False’s base. “Your base is very pretty.”

“Thank you!”

Another awkward pause, and then Pearl backed away. “Right, well. I’ll call you when I need you.”

Her elytra (which still did not look like elytra) unfolded from her back, and False just watched as she took off in a burst of wind. She went up, up, up, then began gliding back down to the shopping district.

False flexed her fingers absently. Protecting. She could do that. Yeah, yeah, she could protect.

God. She was going to be on a cut-off server.

#[lore texts] #[written in stone] #hermitcraft #empires smp #falsesymmetry #pearlescentmoon #meow. i need to be in bed 20 minutes ago to be honest

[autumn-foxfire]

The whole thing about Toorus cover has already been frustrating enough but whats even worse is the amount of ppl that had come out of woodwork to yell 'its not even the first time he sexualized a minor!!!' or 'this is shonen what did you expect??? Other mangaka do it too'

Like you understand that first is just worse and second is no excuse. Like yeah Hori probs wont see any of the outrage and that cover will sell like hotcakes but these are still important conversations to have in fandom about the standards of the way women are treated in manga. Like why no try to build a mood in fandom where mangaka are held to higher expectations instead of just giving up cuz 'its shonen standard'. Drawing cute girls for teen boys to swoon over is one thing, putting an almost completely naked minor on the cover of ur very popular (and publicly sold like i cant imagine how this will look on BOOKSTORE SHELVES) is another. I also see many ppl bitch about like 'oh ppl who complain the most are those who write explicit bakudeku smut' which like, wild conclusion to some to and probably not true but also i think ppl have to understand that influence of a random fic writer in a fandom (even if a popular one) is Very different from influence of a popular mangaka whos work influences the fandom culture anyway. Like there will be ppl who write freaky shit in every fandom but the mangaka very much sets up the bar there i feel.

Like, Witch Hat Atelier is extremly non sexual manga (aside from Qifrey whos sad and wet) and the only sexual content ive encountered for it was between the two adults in it. There IS a creator there that draws minor x adult explicit stuff (as i said freaks in every fandom) but the only reason i know of them is cuz there were warnings from other users like 'hey this person is posting yxz art tagged under the main manga tag, it can be p upseting so make sure to block them!' its a whole different climate for real.

Uhhhh long story short like ppl are allowed to discuss weird stuff a mangaka pulls, thats good for the fandom, why is everyone on twitter so damn ready for this to be their hill to die on lmao all ppl are saying is 'wow pretty gross for Hori to put a naked teenager on the cover' hows that controversial

....long time no rant at foxy i hope i made sense

I completely agree with you, Lucy and I'm mad that the attitude in fandom a lot of the time is "well there's nothing you can do about it so why complain?"

Why aren't we allowed to hold Mangaka, grown men, accountable for the shit they draw and sell to a wide audience. Why can't I be upset that yet again a female body is being exploited by a grown man for sales.

Yes, she's fictional but that's not the issue! It's an issue that it's okay just because she's female and this has been normalized! Imagine the outrage in public that would have caused if it was Deku in such a pose?! It probably wouldn't be allowed to be printed, let alone on the cover of such a popular magazine that is sold to young boys.

It's because people brush it off that it's everywhere that NOTHING WILL CHANGE. Yes, my voice will probably go unheard regardless but at least I'm saying something about it, at least I'm supporting people who are also upset that their bodies are used like this. It's better than ignoring it and the people hurt by Hori's choice (which you'll notice are mostly females).

And the argument that fandom creates content just as bad is null. Firstly, a fandom creator who barely gets over 100 views most of the time will NEVER carry the same influence that a man who draws in over 10s of 1000s. Not to mention, it's deflecting the issue. We're not talking about the creation of porn, we're talking about how Hori has exploited the female body, using a character of his that is a minor, for profit as representation for his work.

My question is WHAT DOES THIS COVER DO. It doesn't represent Hagakure as a character nor it doesn't represent his story of heroism. It exists just for people to, frankly, jerk off over. As a fan of BNHA, I don't want what was once one of my favourite stories represented in such a way! I don't want a character to be reduced to this!

If Hori wanted to draw sexy females for young males, he should have created an ecchi manga, not a shonen one. At least then I wouldn't have to see this bullshit with my own eyes and have it supposed to represent something I used to love.

I'm upset as a female because I'm tired of shonen artists getting away with using girls like this, especially teenage girls.

#bnha #bnha critical #charmspoint #long time no rant back XD #thanks for the ask!!

[redbootsindoriath]

Yoo, I'm a bit late but beware the Ides of March! Hopefully no one got stabbed---

Thanks, nobody in my life was stabbed on that day.  I hope everybody else can say the same.  Also happy St Pat's, while we're on the topic of holidays I almost forgot about this year.

Here's a cheetah because that's pretty much all that I drew today.  It has nothing to do with any holiday right now but it’ll have to do.

#the world isn't in your books and maps #my trash #yo somebody talked to me #/end classification tags #okay so i said i was over art block which was MOSTLY true because i have had inspiration and etc occasionally #but not ENTIRELY true because i've not drawn every day and i'm frustrated with how slow and clumsy i am #which is pretty typical for immediately after coming out of art block

[purple-baby-d]

overthinking over you.

Lee Donghyuck (Haechan — NCT) X female reader.

Genre: Fluff, smut.

Word count: 8,672.

Content: student!hyuck, student!reader, sportplayers!nct, kissing, first time sex (male), dry humping, foreplay, fingering, depictions of violence that may be upsetting for some readers, I kinda made Johnny a dick so sorry to y’all beforehand, just some lovely and probably cringey au to have a valentine’s day feast before valentine’s day because I realized I haven’t written an au for my best friend in a while and the 90′s Love era Haechan has been attacking me for long enough so I decided to do something about it.

Brief: Captain of the hockey team, Honor Roll student, an amazing friend and the pride and joy of his parents, Lee Donghyuck certainly has it all to other people’s eyes, but what about the girl he’s dreamed of? No, he’s pretty much a great overthinker for that. But now that she broke up with her boyfriend, will his head get on the way of him getting to her heart?

Dedicated to @theravengoddess, happy Valentine’s day, bestie! I love you and thank you for being with me through the ups and downs 💜

After some long hours of practice, the hockey team was finally sent to the lockers by the coach, the old man’s chest was filled with pride by his back-to-back champion, the Neo Cultural Tech All-Stars. But of course, he didn’t want his players to slack off, so he wouldn’t let them know that.

The man of the hour, Lee Donghyuck, got out of his warm shower to dress up and go home, finding his fellow team players in the lockers. “Hey, nice practice today, Hyuck”, Jeno complimented, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, man. You were quite impressive out there too”, he smiled at him. “You guys wanna crash at my place to study for the finals? My last brain cell died trying to figure out the Algebra study guide”, Mark sighed, pulling his red hoodie down as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. “I’m down, I seriously need divine help for that one”, Sungchan said, tying the laces of his sneakers. “Me too, the question is if our savior will be there to help us”, Yangyang teased, looking at his team captain.

The blonde looked at him with a little smile, shaking his head. “You guys are truly a pain in the ass”, he sighed. “Oh, come on, Hyuck! I’ll pay for the pizza”, Yangyang pleaded, truly concerned about his grades. “You know if I don’t get at least a B, I won’t be able to stay in the team, what are you gonna do without your heartthrob?” he asked while pouting and batting his eyes. “But WinWin has good grades”, Mark teased, making his fellows laugh and Hyuck sigh. “Fine, but if you start staring at your phone instead of studying, I will whoop your ass”, Donghyuck agreed, and the rest of them high-fived each other.

“Ayo, Ten!”, Mark called out, looking at the guy who had just gotten out of the shower. Donghyuck saw something weird in him, he looked as if he was in a rush. “We’re having a group study session at my place, Hyuck will help us with the Algebra study guide, you down?”, he asked. “I’ll have to pass, guys. Johnny is pissed, it seems like he and Y/N broke up”, he said, making Donghyuck stop in his tracks, shocked. “What? What for?”, Mark asked again, concerned for Ten’s stepbrother, the star of the school’s martial arts team. “You know Johnny, she probably found out he cheated on her or something, but I’m still his brother, so I gotta be there for him”, Ten sighed, getting dressed within five minutes with his hair still dripping wet. “Anyways, maybe the next time, take care, y’all!”, he said before rushing out of the lockers’ room.

Jeno looked at his blonde friend, knowing exactly what he was probably thinking. His seemingly hopeless love was finally available again, how exciting was that? However, he looked rather terrified, and it was because his overthinking head was working at full speed.

Oh God, is she okay? Did Johnny hurt her badly? Should I text her? What if she doesn’t wanna talk about it? What if she doesn’t wanna talk at all? What if she doesn’t like boys anymore after this? Irene started dating Seulgi after Junmyeon broke up with her, what if Y/N does that too? Should I go with her? But I already told the guys I would help them... Jesus, Lee Donghyuck, you’re such an idiot.

Lee Donghyuck had many virtues, sadly his biggest enemy was his head.

“Guys, I think we lost him”, Sungchan said, as he saw Donghyuck spacing out. “What?” he said, once he realized his surroundings. Mark patted his shoulder, “Lee Donghyuck, you’re truly one of a kind. If y’all ready, let’s go”, he said, and their group left the lockers and headed to the parking lot, where everyone got into Donghyuck’s black Jeep to head off to Mark’s place. However, the team captain was still thinking about his long-time friend, who he’s had a crush on for the longest time. He simply shook it off, he was a man of his word, so he would help his friends and once they’re done with studying, his head would be clear enough to know what to do.

Because there was nothing better for Lee Donghyuck to clear his mind than a good Algebra study guide.

“Oh, man, thank God it’s over!”, Sungchan yawned, stretching after finishing the last problem of the study guide and the last slice of pizza left on the third box, “I get it all now, how did you do that?”, Yangyang asked, looking at Donghyuck with utter confusion. “Well, it’s quite simple if you actually get your head in it”, the blonde replied, saving the study guide back in his backpack before grabbing his phone, still wandering between texting you or not. It wouldn’t be weird, you’ve known each other since kindergarten and been friends for years. However, your ex-boyfriend, the widely-known playboy Seo Johnny, had kept you from talking ever since you started dating last summer, and honestly, Donghyuck didn’t want you to have problems because of him.

He loved you a lot to do that.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, Jeno, do you want a ride?”, you asked the only one within your group you knew didn’t plan on staying over at Mark’s or lived close enough to walk home. Jeno logically nodded, picking up his bag and saying his respective goodbyes. Of course, something seemed to click in Jeno’s head when Donghyuck offered to give him a ride home: you lived in front of his house. Obviously, he wasn’t going to point that out, knowing Donghyuck, he would take back his offer, and he honestly didn’t want to walk the ten blocks that distanced Mark’s place to his.

“You think I should talk to her?”, Donghyuck asked halfway through, looking at Jeno briefly as they got to a red light. Jeno sighed, taking his sight away from the window to look at his friend. “Honestly, Hyuck? You’ve been in love with her since fifth grade, you should gather the balls to tell her once and for all, it’s so fucking frustrating to deal with your overthinking ass head”, he replied, taking a deep breath afterward. What hurt Hyuck the most was knowing that he was right and that even after all those years, he’d always see you run into another guy’s arms.

First, it was Lucas, your boyfriend from sixth to eighth grade. He had a wealthy family and was the school’s fencing champion. And then, it was Johnny, who you’d been with since barely months after you broke up with Lucas. Sadly, it has always been the same for Donghyuck: as soon as he gathers the courage to ask you out, you’d already started dating someone else. You have a long, toxic relationship with the new guy, he breaks your heart, you go to him. It was the routine he was used to, the routine his thoughts reserved for him every time. But after parking his car in front of Jeno’s house, he decided that was about to change.

“You sure you’re okay? I’m sorry if I said something-”, Jeno tried to apologize, but Donghyuck cut him off. “It’s alright, Jen. You said what was in your head and I respect that, mostly because you’re right”, he sighed, looking down for a while before taking a deep breath and reaching out his hand for a small handshake with his friend. “I’ll see you tomorrow”, he grinned, as Jeno got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride, drive home safely!”, the raven-haired boy exclaimed as he walked into his house. Donghyuck stayed outside for a while, and while he did, he sighed as he kept thinking what was the right thing to text you.

But decided to let all of that go, he just typed the first thing that came to his head and pressed sent, locking his phone so he wouldn’t keep looking at it on his way home.

“Johnny is a dick, and I think it’s time for me to say I told you”, Wendy laughed as you simply shook your head. Yeah, they all warned you, it’s true. But the truth also was you never really had super strong feelings for Johnny, nor Lucas, nor for any of the boys you’ve dated before. But then, why would you date them? Because you weren’t a fan of loneliness, and even though most of those guys were assholes —especially and at a ridiculous level, Johnny—, they wouldn’t miss the most stupid excuse to be with you when you were alone, which sadly because of your parents’ job was pretty often. “Yeah, I know I should’ve listened to you, Wen” you rolled your eyes as you threw one of your stuffed animals at your friend.

But as soon as she threw another one back, specifically the bear with the hockey team’s uniform, your eyes were about to bawl out. “Hey, be careful with this one!” you said, making sure it was still in perfect conditions. All of your friends looked at you, quite taken aback by your reaction. However, Demi, your neighbor, smiled a little before explaining your reaction. “All the other stuffed animals were from the idiots, but Lee Donghyuck gave her that one”, she sat next to you, as you both smiled while looking at each other. “Lee Donghyuck? As in the hockey team’s captain, Lee Donghyuck?”, Joy asked, quite excited. You nodded, letting out a small sigh as you thought of him.

“I’ve heard he’s gay, I mean, he hasn’t gone public about a relationship like... ever? And besides, he has rejected every girl that’s asked him out”, Irene said, quite as nicely as ever. “No offense, I mean, I’m obviously an ally... but, how come such a hot piece of cake like him has never dated someone?”. Seulgi looked at her girlfriend, quite shocked at her way to describe him. “Jeno told me he has a crush on someone since fifth grade, but he’s quite an overthinker, he needs to ask his left foot before moving the right one”, Demi chuckled, “But I think that’s cute, he’s been a good friend to Y/N as far as I’m concerned, and if he ever decides to step out of his shell, I bet he will be the exception to the all athletes are idiots rule”.

This last phrase stayed in your mind as Seulgi, Irene, Wendy and Joy left, as they had told Yeri they would go over to her house for a good spiriting session before the cheerleading championship you’d enroll into in a few weeks. You passed, you were scared as hell of those things, and honestly, you preferred to spend some quality time with your neighbor before she went overseas to a musical exchange program. “Ugh, I’m gonna miss you so much, bitch”, you said as you hugged her, making her chuckle. “Hey, I’ll be sending you as many pictures as you want, and I’ll buy you gifts while I’m there, I promise I’ll try every single street food dish London has to offer just for you”, she said, letting out a sigh as she watched through your bedroom’s window. “I’ll miss you and Jeno so much...”, she muttered. You playfully pushed her, “Hey, you’re with your wife right now! Stop thinking about your boyfriend, say you’ll miss me!”, you yelled at her as you both laughed.

Your phone vibrated as a message arrived, and you grabbed it from its previous spot in your bed. As you read who it was from, you simply smiled, something your friend didn’t miss out on. “Let me guess, it’s your gay best friend”, she mocked you, referring to Irene’s comment on the rumors about his private life. You simply looked at her for a second to return your attention to the text.

You typed the answer quickly, quite excited about the fact that he texted you first when it was usually the other way. Demi stared at you while you wrote the message, quite unsure as to why you looked so hyped up.

Hyuckie:

Hey, I heard about you and Seo, I’m sorry.

You felt a pillow being thrown your way, and you looked up only to find your friend looking at you, pretending to be pissed. “Hey, you’re with your wife right now! Stop texting your crush, let’s watch a movie!”, you laughed again at your silly “jealous” attitudes, and ended up turning on your laptop to watch a movie before going to bed.

You:

Hey... it’s fine, I was warned but I still did it.

How are you? I kinda missed you.

Of course, you’d chosen strategically to play the one movie Demi falls asleep watching so you could read Donghyuck’s answer to your texts, and you were a little too excited over it.

Hyuckie:

I missed you too, you should start cheering for the hockey team too!

Would you like to grab a bite tomorrow after class and catch up?

My treat ;)

You:

Are you asking me out?

You asked teasingly, making Donghyuck’s head insane as he laid in his bed, reading your message over and over again thinking about his next move.

Was it too soon? Is it too little? Should I say no? What if she was joking? What if she doesn’t want a date? What if I screw up and she never wants to talk to me again? Reply quickly, idiot! She’ll think you’re ignoring her!

Leaving his thoughts aside, he typed what his heart told him to and sent it, quite to your shock as you read it.

Hyuckie:

If I was, would you say yes?

Biting on your lip as Donghyuck’s hands trembled, you couldn’t hold back a smile. If your friend was right, this would end with the bad streak of dating idiots you’ve had so far, and you’d finally be happy with someone who actually gave you your place. So without thinking it any further, you replied something that made your friend’s heart skip a beat.

You:

Meet me tomorrow after class.

“You asked her out?!”, Jeno exclaimed in shock as he read the small text conversation on Hyuck’s phone. He nodded, and Jeno showed a huge surprised face, “What? I thought that was what you wanted me to do”, the blonde said, quite not getting his friend’s reaction. “I’m just... shocked. I thought it would still take you weeks, days at least. Hyuck, I’m so fucking proud of you!”, he hugged Hyuck as he patted his back. “Damn, our little Hyuck is finally growing up, this and the fact that we slew those Algebra finals is a matter of celebration!” Mark said excitingly. “You just wanted an excuse to throw a party, didn’t you?” Sungchan rolled his eyes, smiling at his friend’s enthusiasm.

“I think I’ll catch up later, I promised Demi I’d be with her tonight”, Jeno sighed. It was a mystery to everyone why he looked so down lately, and it was merely because Jeno wasn’t the sharing type. He liked to keep his problems to himself, in his books it was alright because everyone had their own stuff to deal with. However, quite frequently, the exception to that rule was Donghyuck, but he kept things to himself whenever they were with the rest of the guys.

So once the guys headed off to the library to study a bit more for the rest of their final exams, Hyuck patted Jeno’s shoulder. “I know something’s off, Jeno”, he looked at his friend in the eye, which made Jeno sigh. “Demi is taking off to London for the summer break, and God knows how much longer”, he finally told him. “And I don’t mean to keep her here, because I know that’s her dream, and had it been mine, she’d support me until the very end, but...”, Jeno stared at the ground as they kept walking, not really wanting to say what sounded so selfish in his head, but was truly the only thing that he had in his mind. “You don’t want her to leave”, his friend completed, wrapping his arms around him.

“Jeno, if there’s something I know for sure it’s how much you and Demi love each other”, he chuckled, trying to cheer his friend up. “You’ve been together... God, for as long as I can remember. You’ll survive this, you just gotta let things flow”. Jeno looked up at him with a little smile, “How come you’ve never dated anyone and you still give great dating advice?”. They both chuckled, only for Jeno to look back at him and pat his back, “That’s some great advice, Hyuck, you should follow it too”.

As they reached the exit, both of them went separate ways. Jeno’s words kept ringing in the back of Donghyuck’s head as he walked towards the outdoor field’s bleachers, sitting down as he waited for you still thinking about how he would manage everything. He made an elaborate plan right after finishing the study guide last night, with his mind clear enough to let him make his choices without any further doubts. He took a deep breath and followed the little pre-game ritual he had ever since he started playing hockey: he looked straight ahead and emptied his mind from everything but what he had planned for the day: making sure you knew he’d treat you better than the rest of the idiots you’ve given your heart to.

That was his plan for the most important task he’s had to date.

“Party at Mark Lee’s place tonight, girls!”, you heard Yeri exclaim as you got changed from your PE class in the lockers. The girls looked quite excited and you texted Demi to know if she would come as well, figuring that it would be somewhere in Hyuck’s plans for the night. “Someone looks quite rushed, do you have somewhere else to be?”, Joy asked you, as she slipped her red cropped turtleneck over her head. “I’m going on a date”, you muttered as the other girls looked at you, quite mesmerized. “A date?! With who?” Wendy had the courage to ask, and you smiled as you pointed at Donghyuck’s picture from last year’s yearbook. “Lee Donghyuck?”, Irene gasped, looking at you quite amazed. “Girls, there will be six more weeks of summer this year”. Your friends giggled as you shook your head. “I mean, you’re the first girl he’s asked out like... ever?”. You sighed as you put on some lipstick, blending it with the tip of your fingers.

Seulgi looked at what you were wearing and threw a piece of clothing at you, nearly making you smudge your mascara. “Hey!”, you exclaimed, quite shocked. “You don’t plan on going to Mark’s party later with that, right? Let alone to date the hockey team’s captain”, you looked at your plain red shirt and your white mom jeans, quite confused as you straightened the clothing ball your friend threw your way. “That’s my beloved white furry jacket, it will look cute with that and your matching bucket hat. And it will help you look like you made at least a little effort to look different today”. You dedicated her a little grin as you slipped the jacket on, finding yourself looking like a 90′s teen movie star. “Thank you!”, you told her, walking out the locker room as she yelled one final, “You better take care of it!”.

You jogged your way to the fields as you realized the bell rang twenty minutes ago, afraid of making Donghyuck think you’d forgotten or played with him. A part of you even thought he probably wouldn’t be there. However, you found him sitting in the bleachers, staring at his phone. “Hey, sorry, did you wait too long?”, you asked concerned, only to be greeted by one of his beautiful smiles. He got up, fixing his hair as he rushed down to your encounter, smiling your way. “I was talking to Jeno, I just got here”, he shrugged, a little white lie he made to keep you from feeling bad.

Because that’s how much he loved you.

“Oh, thank God, I was so scared...” you sighed, looking at him with a little smile. “Wow, I’ve seen you every day, yet you look so different”, you grinned, looking at how much his physics had changed from the little kid you remembered: he gained muscles, he was also taller than you remembered him to be, not to mention his golden-tanned skin looked somewhat more tempting than it did before. “Well, you’re still as beautiful as I remembered you to be”, he muttered, picking a lock of your hair behind your ear. That little moment had you feeling those cliché butterflies in your stomach like you’ve never felt them before. “Shall we go now?”, he asked you, reaching his hand out for you to hold.

His hands, good lord. You thought. There was definitely something about them that made you even more excited about holding them. As soon as you held his hand, it felt as if two pieces of a puzzle had been joined. As if the event was long overdue.

You walked over to the parking lot, where your jaw dropped as soon as you saw his ride. “Since when can you drive?”, you asked quite shocked. “I got my driver's license before the last championship, my parents gifted me this after we won”, he replied, opening the passenger’s seat door for you to go inside. “Wow, what a gentleman”, you said, acting as if it was a joke. But the truth was it somewhat made you feel good. No one had ever opened a door for you, and there was Lee Donghyuck, holding your hand to help you get inside his car after he opened the door for you.

Different from other guys you’ve had the chance to ride along with, Hyuck didn’t seem to care about your shoes being dirty when they touched the car, nor about you intending to touch the car. He made you feel as if his car was yours too, and you liked that. He closed the door once you got in and surrounded the car to get in the driver’s seat. You had this stupid smile on your face, and Hyuck noticed that. “What is it?”, he asked you, quite confused but still smiling. You shook your head, “Don’t mind me, I’m just recovering from the algebra test”. He chuckled, as he started the engine, “How come everyone says that? It was a piece of cake compared to the study guide”. You looked at him while laughing, shaking your head lightly. Ever since you were kids, Donghyuck was a genius with numbers. When the teacher asked him, he said it was because he liked to have an answer to problems, and that was when you knew you needed someone like him in your life.

However, due to the situation making you realize things in a totally different way, you surely were questioning the real intentions of that wish.

You stared at him as he focused on the driveway after lending you the AUX cable so you could choose the music, his focus unbothered even with your sort of intense glare. He truly looked like a 90′s boyband heartthrob. His sportslike red and white outfit along with the chains you remember giving him for one of his birthdays a while ago... he looked good. You also smiled a little as you noticed the color coordination you had unwittingly pulled off, you truly looked like a couple... and you liked it.

Donghyuck wasn’t blind, he noticed each one of your smiles but pretended not to since he liked to see you smiling, and his head was certain in the fact that you would try to hide them if he said something about them. “Where are we going?”, you asked him, quite curious about his intention. He wasn’t using any sort of GPS, so he knew where he was going, but that only made you more anxious as to where he was taking you. “Do you remember that place where your parents threw your birthday party in fifth grade?”, he asked, making you look at him with disbelief. “The arcade where I beat you in every single game?”, you giggled. “Yup, that one. I thought it would be nice to go back there, you know... for the memories”, he explained, only to add at the end, “and they also serve some great cheeseburgers”.

The pure definition of the word “nostalgia” hit you as soon as Hyuck parked the car in the place’s parking lot. It was nearly empty, with just some employees going around to check on the games and some people eating in the cafeteria. “Wow, this place is exactly like I remember, they haven’t even changed the games!”, you exclaimed as Hyuck looked at your excitement with loving eyes. You looked at the guy beside you, taking your wallet out of your purse. “Well, the food’s your treat, then mine’s the games”, you said, you didn’t even let him say a word before you went over to the cashier to pay for the coins you’d play with.

The old lady sitting behind the desk looked at you with a kind smile, “That young man came in yesterday when we were nearly closing, he asked us to reconnect some of the old machines, now I get why”, she told you while looking for a few bags of coins, counting them in a machine that later poured them in a little cup. “He sure is in love with you, you’ve got quite a catch of a boyfriend”. You were about to tell her he wasn’t your boyfriend when you turned around, and your eyes found him focused on a crane game, not exactly knowing what he was so focused on getting but certainly going down the memory lane to a 12-year-old Donghyuck pulling an adorable teddy bear out of the game and giving it to you two days later with the hockey team’s jersey and his number in the back.

“I totally agree”, you muttered, smiling as you saw him pulling out the toy he’d gotten. He was so good at those games, at every game being honest. You still couldn’t believe you’d beaten him back in the day. Once the old lady handed you the coin-filled cups, you paid her and she handed you your change. As you counted the money, you realized something was off. “Excuse me, ma’am... you gave me extra change”. She shook her head, looking at you with that same smile. “Half of it is on the house, I let you pay the other half because the young man told me that you were quite stubborn”, she giggled, “Now, go and have fun! Live while you’re young”.

You smiled, thanking her as you walked back towards Donghyuck. He smiled back at your happiness, handing you an adorable stuffed animal. “How come you’re so good at those games?”, you asked him while giggling. “It’s just a matter of space measuring, calculating the probabilities of the toy slipping out or falling off the crane, choosing the most available toy out of the bunch... and I’m boring you”, he smiled nervously as he saw you looking at the toy, an adorable white bear with a red bow. You looked at him again only to find him scratching the back of his neck.

“You weren’t, I like that about you, Hyuck”, you answered honestly. “I hate it when people are overconfident while giving answers to those questions, like when they say ‘I just can’ or that sort of stuff”, he looked at you while you spoke, making you feel listened to. He was truly listening to every single word that came out of your lips as if it was the most interesting speech ever.

Because he loved listening to you.

You spent every single coin playing different games, just like you did when you were kids, breaking your own records in every single machine you played in. You laughed the whole evening, and yet again, you managed to beat Donghyuck in every single game. “Booyah! In your face, twentieth game in a row!”, you mocked him, making your old little victory dance as he smiled, sighing. “Damn, you haven’t lost your touch”, he said, pretending to feel defeated, “Are you hungry yet?”, he asked you kindly. You nodded, and both of you made your way to the cafeteria, as you jokingly bragged about your smashing victory.

The old lady was patiently waiting for you to show up, with two gorgeous bacon cheeseburgers, french fries, and two milkshakes, what Donghyuck had told her to serve you the night prior. You looked at him in shock, “You remember all of this?��, you smiled as you sat down, thanking the lady when she left you your food. “It’s the house’s special, how could I forget it?”, he replied, as if wasn’t anything special. However, you knew deep down his intentions were all the opposite. You started eating, nearly crying at the sensation of memories flooding your head as soon as you gave it a bite. “It’s been so long since I’ve last had a burger this good”, you admitted. It wasn’t pretty usual for you to hang around these places anymore. It was pretty far away from your reach, yet Lee Donghyuck made it his task to make you remember the good old days.

“Why did you bring me here? I want the truth, Hyuck”, you demanded once you were done eating. He looked at you while taking a sip of his strawberry milkshake, swallowing before giving you an answer. “Well, a few years ago, on your birthday, your mother hired an entire show from the old animatronics because your friends loved them”, he started the story, one you certainly remembered. “However, you were scared shitless of them, so you ran out of the room as soon as the lights turned off for them to start the show. You thought no one noticed, but I did. And I ran behind you, only to find you looking at the zombie videogame your friends wouldn’t want to play with you because they didn’t like it”.

He looked at his hands, playing with his fingers as he left out a small chuckle. “Back then, you had this silly nickname for me, because of a bear you saw at the zoo that was named that way”, he said, only for you to complete his sentence. “Haechan”, you smiled, and he nodded. “You looked at me and smiled, and you said ‘Why are you here, Haechan? You should be watching the show, mommy thought you’d like it’. And I took out the coins I had in my pocket and told you-”. “I bet killing zombies with you is more fun”, you muttered, making him smile as you remembered it too. “Mom was so pissed she didn’t find me when the animatronics started singing the birthday song”, you chuckled, making him laugh as well. “That night, as we played, I remember thinking ‘wow, her smile is so pretty’, and it wasn’t until you first made that victory dance of yours that I realized how much I liked you” he confessed finally, leaving you speechless for a second.

You were that girl, you really were the girl Lee Donghyuck was in love with.

“You like me?”, you asked, still shocked. He nodded, not really knowing what to do with his hands. “I’ve been wanting to let you know for the longest time, but whenever I gathered the guts to do it, you started dating someone else. So I decided to keep it to myself, to be there for you as a friend if you needed me. Because even if it hurt me to see your heart break, I wanted to be there to help you fix it”, he explained to you, as the tears started coming out of your eyes. “You mean... when I started dating Lucas... you were planning to confess to me?”, your voice cracked, making him stop everything and reach out to hug you. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, caressing your back. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, nor to feel guilty or bad for me. I was upset, I’m not gonna lie... but I also decided to set you free. If you came back to me, it was because it was meant to be. And you came back every single time, so I waited until the right time until I finally decided it was now”, he told you, as you pulled back slightly to look at him in the eyes.

“Hyuck...”, you couldn’t manage to get any words out of your mouth, but he made you feel as if it was okay to leave him hanging after such an adorable confession. You felt like the biggest trash bag on Earth, and the way he treated you made you feel worse and at ease at the same time. “You need to heal, and I get that. You went through a lot with Johnny, and I know that. I’ll wait until you’re ready if you want me to, and I’ll totally leave my feelings aside if you want me to. I’ll leave it up to you”, he told you, caressing your cheeks and adjusting your hat back in its place. “Mark has a party over at his place, do you want to go?”, he asked you softly, wiping your tears away.

You sighed, looking down for a minute. “Hyuck, I’ll give you an answer, I promise”, you told him, which he let out a little giggle. “It’s truly okay, Y/N. Come on, Jeno told me Mark’s already bragging about his b-boy moves”, he told you, reaching out his hand again after leaving a good tip for the old lady, thanking her again before the two of you left. He always found a way to make you feel better, even when he was probably the most upset.

Because he loved you.

“Yo, Hyuck! You came just in time for another round of beer pong!” Mark greeted his friend as he saw the two of you walking into the party, crowded as usual for one of Mark Lee’s parties. “You guys look fresh! Make yourselves at home, drinks at the kitchen, snacks at the table, dance floor by the pool, and the rooms upstairs are exclusively reserved for the hockey team, so you’re staying over tonight, I’m not asking”. Hyuck looked at him, “Sure, because you’ll get so drunk tonight we’ll have to babysit you again”. Mark stopped in front of him, patting his shoulder. “You know me so well, Hyuckie”, he said, messing up his hair before going back to the party. “Ayo, Winwin! Let’s go get more booze!”.

You looked at Hyuck. “Do you want anything to drink?”, he asked you, raising his voice slightly for you to listen to him despite the loud music playing in the back. “Just some Coke” you replied, and he nodded, walking over to the kitchen as you looked around for Demi, finding her sitting on a couch near the beer pong table. You hugged her, noticing she looked a little excited. “I want every last drop of the scoop, how did it go?!”, she asked you, her smile nearly going from ear to ear. “He likes me, Dem, I’m the girl Jeno was talking about. And I blanked as soon as he confessed to me”, you said, quite embarrassed. “He planned the most adorable evening ever, he did all of these adorable things for it to be perfect... and I couldn’t even say anything”. Demi looked at you concerned, only to change her expression as soon as her attention drifted to someone walking over towards you. “Girl, I don’t mean to be rude, but we really should-”, she started as she helped you get up, only to be cut off by a voice you knew pretty well.

“I see it didn’t take long for you to go over with someone new, huh?”, he told you, looking at you dead in the eye. “Well, the difference, Johnny, is that I at least waited until breaking up with you”, you replied, certainly not scared of him. “Lee Donghyuck? That shitball, seriously? So you’re messing up with my reputation for being some faggot’s cover?”, he asked you, chuckling at the idea, making Jeno and the rest of the hockey team walk over towards you as soon as they acquired awareness of the situation. “You ain’t not even a quarter of the man he is”, you replied and felt him grabbing onto your neck, freezing at the closeness. “Oh, yeah? That wasn’t what you said when I made you my bitch”.

“Hey, asshole!”, you felt released as someone pushed Johnny off of you. Demi held you protectively as Jeno walked over to the two of you, checking out to see if you were okay. “Oh, if it’s the man of the moment, I was looking for you to give you my congratulations, I guess some people settled with used things”, Johnny mocked, only to receive another push from Donghyuck. “You can say all you want about me, but leave her alone or else”. Johnny laughed in his face, “You? You will beat me? You would risk getting your ass kicked for some wasted-ass bitch? Face the facts, Lee! Lucas used her, I used her, God knows how many more have, she’s a fucking slut-!”, he was about to say something else when Donghyuck threw the first punch, with such strength it left Johnny bleeding. You gasped, knowing well enough Hyuck wasn’t the fighting type, let alone the type to start a fight, let’s not even mention starting a fight with the school’s martial arts champion.

As soon as he got punched, you felt your heart stuck in your throat. He tried throwing punches at Johnny, but the ladder returned them faster and harder. Jeno, Yangyang, Sungchan, and Ten rushed to break down the fight, looking at how Hyuck’s blood started to stain the floor. “Enough!”, Mark yelled walking into his house with Winwin and the booze they went for, with that authority voice that made him so respected and loved by everyone in his class. “Johnny, get the fuck out of my house! I give two shits, you have absolutely no right to disrespect my team captain, nor a friend of mine, nor a lady, not under my fucking roof! Get the fuck out before I call the cops!”, Ten walked him out before he looked for further trouble, mouthing a “sorry” your way. You rushed over to Donghyuck, looking at Mark once you realized how his face was bleeding.

“Do you have any first-aid kit?”, you asked him. “Upstairs, third door to the right”, he guided you. You held Hyuck’s hand and guided him over with you, quite concerned about the mess left. Jeno looked at you, knowing exactly what you were thinking. “We’ll clean this up and keep things going as if nothing happened, you go and make sure he’s alright”, he told you, “That idiot thinks everything so damn much, I can’t believe he didn’t think this through... just go with him, it’s gonna be alright” you nodded lightly. You would, you had to make sure he was alright because that fight made you realize just how different he was from every idiot you’ve dated.

Because it made you realize how much he loved you.

Having taken off Seulgi’s coat to keep it away of the blood, you found yourself tending to Hyuck’s wounds in one of the bedrooms bathroom. However, he looked more concerned about you than he was about anything related to his well-being. “Stop”, you ordered. “Stop what?”, he asked, authentically confused. “You know it’s not the first time anyone slut-shames me, right?”, you told him, passing a cotton bud over a slit in his lip. At least once the blood was off, it didn’t look that bad anymore. “It’s quite curious, due to how many campaigns women around the world hold against it, to think that the first ones to publicly degrade me were all girls”, you sighed, not wanting to look at him as you spoke. “Every girl that liked Lucas, every girl Johnny cheated on me with, every girl who wouldn’t make it past the cheerleading tryouts...”, you cleaned the mess you’d made, throwing every last piece of cotton you’d used into the trash bin.

“At this point, you could even say I’m used to it. I would even hear made-up stories about how I would be up for gangbangs with Johnny and his friends, how I sold some old man my nudes for him to pay my college tuition, how I was the one who made Seulgi and Irene bisexual...”, you finally sighed, letting out the tears you’ve held back so long it started hurting. Hyuck noticed that, and just like he did in the cafeteria, he held you close. “I’m tired, Hyuck”, you finally admitted, and he caressed your hair. “I know”, he muttered. “I’m so fucking broken I’m afraid to break the only guy who’s ever really loved me right”, you cried out, just wanting to let everything out as you pulled away from his hug, wanting to look at him as you confessed what has been going on in your heart. “Because I fucking love you, Hyuck... but I’m not even close to deserving-”.

You were cut off by his lips crashing onto yours, a sweet and delicate kiss was what you got as a response. Once he slowly pulled away, he looked at you in the eyes, his hands lightly resting on your cheeks. “You deserve the universe and more, nothing less”, he muttered. The tingling sensation that kiss left on your lips was something you’d never felt after kissing anyone before. And it was the final push for you to finally give in, for you to finally let yourself be loved.

You pulled him close again, your lips crashing on each other as your hands wrapped around his neck, his hands falling from your cheeks all the way to your waist, hugging you the way you did with him. The kiss felt so natural you just sunk into it, as well as he did. Even when his head was going insane with all kinds of questions, he decided to shut them off and follow his own advice.

He’d let things flow.

You broke apart only to guide Hyuck back to the bedroom, he looked at you as he read through your intentions. “Are you sure about this?”, he asked you, caressing your cheek. You nodded, looking at him with loving eyes. “This is the first time I’m a hundred percent sure I want to do this”, you told him. He took a deep breath and walked over to the door, locking it first than anything. He looked nervous, and what the girls had said earlier came to your mind.

“Is this your first time?”, you asked him, to which he nodded, an adorable blush tinting his cheeks. You smiled at him, he looked so adorable you wondered who was that intimidating hockey player everyone saw in the field. “It’s okay, just guide me wherever you feel like going, I’ll follow you”, you told him as you got close to him again. You learned to be cautious ever since you lost your virginity, you’d taken birth control very seriously since day one because your mother and your friends guided you to do so. So even now, when the moment came, you were calm knowing it would be alright, and you wanted Hyuck to feel that as well.

He held your waist, pulling you closer lightly and guiding you into a kiss that got more intense with time, he pulled away for a while only to sit down on the bed, pulling you into his lap to start kissing you again. Your hands grabbed his cheeks, caressing them as the kiss kept going. His hands ran down your back as the heat started rising between you, Hyuck’s kissing abilities were way beyond average, those lips of his felt like cotton candy against yours, and every time your tongue met his, you felt one step closer to heaven. He pulled you away briefly to strip down his torso, and your hands felt curious to wander around his strong build.

He played with the bottom of your t-shirt, looking at you before doing anything else. “Can I?”, he asked gently, his constant asking for consent made you even more sure you were doing the right thing. You nodded and helped him out pulling the red shirt off, revealing your black plain underwear. Once your tops were thrown somewhere on the bedroom floor, he went back to kissing you, his kisses slowly going down your neck as you reached your back to undo your bra, letting your chest fully naked for him to kiss. He took that as your consent, and his kisses went all the way down to your breasts as his hands caressed your back once more.

Little moans left your mouth as Hyuck started kissing sensitive spots of your skin, the fact that he used his mouth to roam around your skin was enough to make you feel like this was the best you’ve ever been treated in bed, and adding up the amount of love you could practically touch in him made you enjoy everything even more. You could feel something starting to press against your core as you started grinding over Donghyuck’s lap. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane, princess”, he groaned, in such a raspy voice it made you want more. You kept grinding against him, loving the small grunts that would come out of his mouth as he kept kissing you.

From one moment to another, you felt the bedsheets in your back, as Hyuck took off his pants, feeling the pressure of his throbbing erection painful enough to rush things up a little bit. Still, he managed to be somewhat delicate "throwing" you over the bed. Once there was nothing but his black boxers keeping him from complete nudity, he crawled on top of you, looking at the button of your jeans to ask "Can I?". You unbuttoned your pants while looking at the guy with a pretty smile, biting on your lower lip as he smiled at you, undoing the zip and taking the heavy fabric off your legs, then looking at your black lacey underwear to ask yet again: "Can I?". You giggled, sitting down only to reach for his lips.

He kissed back as your hand guided his to your dripping center. He looked at you, as his head made an effort to figure out what to do at this point, but remembering the shows he watched with the guys, he figured to start moving his fingers up and down, to his luck, on what turned to be your clit. Small moans made their way out of your lips, and due to your arousal, his fingers managed to slip inside you. He kissed you as he kept moving his hand at a medium pace until you pulled him away, only to leave him face up over the bed. You looked at him, playing with the elastic band of his Calvin Klein underwear.

"Can I?", you asked him softly, only for him to chuckle in embarrassment. He nodded lightly, making you smile as he watched your every move. Once his boxers were no longer a burden, you sat on his lap, making him curse as you started moving on top of him. "You'll set the pace", you told him, leaning down to kiss on his lips. And as soon as he aligned his throbbing erection to your entrance and slowly entered you, he swore he could see the stars. With his hands on your hips, he commanded you to go slowly, as you both moaned out how good it felt. Nice and slow, an expression you hadn't known before, certainly became your favorite after that night. And you kept kissing through the whole thing.

Because that's how much you loved each other.

After that steamy moment, you laid next to him after he helped you cleanse, your body holding his closely as he kept your hand in his heart and his arms surrounded you, one of his hands playing with your hair. He looked at you adoringly, unable to find fitting words to how beautiful you looked to his eyes in that moment. You closed your eyes for a few minutes, listening to his calm, steady breath and feeling his heart beating under your hand. For a moment, he even thought you'd fallen asleep, and that made everything ten times better to him. You slowly opened your eyes, finding that adorable smile you loved so much.

You smiled back, looking him in the eyes. "I thought you would be tired", you muttered, caressing his chest lightly. "I'm way too over the clouds to fall asleep right now, Y/N", he replied softly, making you lean over to kiss him lightly again. You looked at the hour in the digital clock that sat on the nightstand, it was 1:27 AM and the party seemed far from over. The music was still as loud as it was when you walked into the room to tend his wounds. You chuckled as you thought about the people you'd left downstairs, "Do you think Jeno and Demi are waiting for us?", you asked Hyuck, making him laugh a little. "Well, I hope they sorted things out if they are. Jeno was quite concerned earlier", he sighed, making you think the situation through.

Demi would leave in just a few days for that summer program, and Jeno would stay for the hockey team's summer camp, which was pretty much mandatory if he planned to keep his place as a headline player in the team. You knew how important he was to the team, but you also knew Jeno loved your best friend more than anything. And you knew for fact distance wasn't compatible with relationships.

"I think Jeno bought that plane ticket in the end", Hyuck shrugged, making you look at him in shock. "What do you mean?", you asked him. "Well, ever since Demi first applied for the program, he talked to the coach about it. Of course, the coach took a while to understand his issues, but as soon as we won the championship again, he gave Jeno the greenlight", he explained you, staring at the ceiling as he spoke. "Mark and I offered to help him with the expenses, and the coach even booked him in a good hockey camp in London", he smiled at the thought. "However, he's held back because he knows how much this means to Demi, and he didn't want her to lose focus because of him. If there's one thing the coach taught us well, was to get our head in the game as soon as we entered the field, and he didn't want to keep her from doing that. But I think Demi and him talked about it today, because he looked happy while talking to the guys before the fight".

You looked at him still in disbelief, making him giggle. "Is there something on my face?", he asked, and you jokingly punched him. "I thought he and Demi would break up! How could you know about all of this and not tell me?", he giggled and held you close again, as you "fought back", pretending to be angry. "Don't be mad at me, princess. Jeno had his reasons to keep my love for you a secret from Demi, I had mine not to tell you about this", he asked you softly. "They will be having fun in London, you and I will stay here. I think we should join them downstairs if neither one of us can sleep, just so you can have the tea spilled from them".

However, you shook your head. "No, the door is still locked and I still want some sort of compensation for keeping me from knowing my OTP found a way to make it through the challenges of life!", you asked as you grabbed his cheeks, making him smile and sigh. "Say no more", he said, turning the lamp off before kissing you again.

Happy Valentine’s season, everyone! If you love someone, let them know.

#haechan #nct haechan #nct dream #nct 127 #nct #lee donghyuck #nct lee haechan #nct lee donghyuck #nct haechan fluff #fluff #kpop valentines day #theravengoddess #I MISS YOU UNIVERSE

[the-insomniac-emporium]

thoughts on Bela///Donna?

What a lovely can of worms you've placed in my inbox, dear nonnie. I cannot wait to open it and lose followers (regardless of what I actually say).

Since this is, uh, a subject of some debate among RE8 fans, I will be inputting my thoughts on the idea of the ship (and the possible controversy), as opposed to doing HCs or something for it (which I recognize might be what you were asking for, despite the excessive /s).

This is all based on my playthroughs of the game, as well as what I've managed to double check on the fandom/wiki for it. I know that a lot of people who read fanfic for the game haven't actually played it, likely having been lured in by Tall Vampire Milf, and so I hope that some people will be open to a reminder of, like, canon vs fanon? I've mentioned in a previous post that there's a lot of details for RE8 that are not made clear, and I feel the need to reiterate that in this post. Capcom left a lot of stuff up to people's imaginations, or kind of just hinted at in game or in concept art.

But more importantly, regardless of what game we're talking about, regardless of the conclusion I come to (and the one you come to) at the end of this post, I want to say that I absolutely understand the need/desire to have your own perspective/take on the characters from the game, as well as their dynamics. If a ship makes you uncomfortable because you see the characters as being family members, it's totally okay. Block the ship tag, or filter it out when you look through fandom stuff, don't follow people who post for it, etc, etc.

If you think of characters as being family-family (like, not just "we got married and are now a family" but, like, "we're siblings/parent and child") and still ship them? uh. sorry, bruv, maybe think of hitting that unfollow button. No, seriously, hit that unfollow button. This blog is anti-incest, thank you very much.

The last thing I'll say before putting it under a read-more (for both length and major RE8 spoilers) is that I recognize that I might have missed something, either in game or developers talking about things on social media, and so if you read through this and go "god, J, you're such a dumbass for forgetting *critical piece of media*" or even just "okay but have you seen *small but meaningful piece of media*?" please. Just. Please. Tell me. Link me to that shit. I WANT to know if I'm wrong. I've literally avoided talking about this for as long as I could in order to TRY and make sure I have all the context I need.

With that said, let's examine what context we are given for Alcina Dimitrescu, Bela Dimitrescu, Donna Beneviento, and their relations to each other. I will be leaving my personal thoughts on Bela///Donna at the very end of this, as somewhat of a conclusion, somewhat of just a "hey, this is what you technically asked me about".

Firstly, let me begin by explaining what I consider to be the 3 tiers of "canon"

In-Game/Direct: The highest, truest tier, the definitive canon. This is everything that takes place in game, excluding certain hallucination scenes (ex: Mia was not really in House Beneviento, but we can infer some things from what Donna made Ethan hallucinate about). Things either happen, or are directly stated by characters. There's some wiggle room for dialogue, as characters can lie, but overall we, as the audience, assume we are being told the truth. At the very least, games usually eventually make it clear when a character has been dishonest. Examples of Direct Canon include the following: Ethan is infected with the mold, Lady Dimitrescu drinks blood, Heisenberg wears sunglasses, Mother Miranda can shapeshift.

Concept Art/Developer's Notes/Indirect: Mid-tier and debatable, the "we think, but we're not sure" of canon. Resident Evil: Village contains lots of concept art that the players can browse through, all of which include notes from the developers about the game, characters, environments, and story. Sometimes the notes make something "direct", but oftentimes they do not specify whether the listed idea is still canon or if it was removed during development. This tier also includes information that is implied/can be inferred from tier 1 information, but is not directly stated. Examples of Indirect Canon include the following: Donna's mother died by suicide, Moreau was going to have his lover fused to his back, Duke was originally a fifth lord, Heisenberg was going to have a twin. As you can see, not all of the concept art ideas made it into the final version of the game, so it can be hard when some information seems like it might still be true (such as the matter of Donna's parents).

Fanon/"False": Sometimes collective ideas in a fandom become so widespread that people start interpreting them as actual canon. Sometimes it gets hard to remember what's just obscure lore and what's fanon. When we get a piece of fiction as overall vague as a lot of Resident Evil: Village is, there's bound to be some confusion over time. That's one of the main reasons I waited to talk about Bela////Donna until after I had recently replayed relevant sections of the game, as I wanted to remind myself of what we're actually told. Examples of False Canon are difficult to pinpoint, but might include things like: Hufflepuffs are good at finding things? The Avengers got along for awhile and all had their own rooms in the tower? There's a number scale for the danger level of ghosts in Danny Phantom?

For this post, I will be limiting the majority of my notes to the first two levels of canon, and will do my best to mark them as such. Now... let us... begin.

Alcina Dimitrescu:

Born no later than 1914, Alcina Dimitrescu was 44 years old when she was granted the Cadou by Mother Miranda. (1st Tier: Canon. Source: A note in the castle basement from a servant is dated 1958, and mentions both Alcina and her children. Secondly, Miranda's experiment notes state that Alcina was the 181st subject, and was given the Cadou at age 44. By doing math, we can then determine the earliest Alcina could have been born.)

Alcina refers to the other Lords as her family once without any disdain (when Ethan first arrives at the castle and is caught, Alcina says "you've escaped my little brother"). In a private journal (located near where she threw the infamous vanity) she insults the other Lords, and expresses anger that she is "treated like a sister to them". She argues with Heisenberg without any hesitation, and seems honest in her hatred of him (per Maggie Robertson's wunderbar performance). (1st Tier/2nd Tier: Canon with a sprinkle of interpretation for the last line)

Alcina openly refers to Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela as her daughters, and wrote in her experiment journal that she felt instantly connected to them (as mother and daughters). (1st Tier: Canon).

Bela Dimitrescu:

Likely born in the 1930's or 1940's, in order to be an adult by 1958 (the first dated appearance of the Dimitrescu daughters). (2nd Tier: Based on inference)

Dialogue shows that all three of the daughters do love their mother, and reinforces the bond Alcina's journal mentions. (1st Tier: Canon)

We are not given any information about how Bela feels about the other Lords, or even what she knows about them. Once can assume that she shares the ideas of her mother, either because Alcina tells her things directly, or because Bela (who is eager to please her mother) picks up on them over time. (2nd Tier: Based on inference)

Donna Beneviento:

No idea when she was born. If you've read one of my recent posts, then you know that it's almost entirely a matter of 2nd and 3rd tier canon.

Of the four lords, Donna seems to have the most story within the 2nd tier, and has very, very little in the 1st tier. Duke says she's somewhat isolated, and that her "playmates" never leave the house. Miranda's notes state that Donna is mentally ill, and the gardener's diary states/implies (bit of both) that Donna has severe social anxiety. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly canon)

Supposedly, her parents committed suicide while she was still a child. This is indicated in concept art/the attached developer's notes. However, the only part that's also directly stated in game is that her parents (specifically her father) died while she was young. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly canon)

While Donna only has one voice line in the game (and it's sad), Angie talks a fair bit. Angie seems to disapprove of the other Lords, or at the very least enjoys mocking them, as well as enjoys watching them fight with each other. As Angie is connected to Donna, and Donna has some level of control over her, one can assume that the two have similar (if not the same) opinions. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly Canon)

Donna was adopted by Mother Miranda as an adult. It's unclear exactly how old Donna was, or what exactly Miranda did as her "mother", just that Donna was excited about it. (1st Tier: Canon)

Other Relevant Information:

Heisenberg refers to the other Lords as his siblings a minimum of 1 time. Similarly to Alcina, however, he openly insults them and seems to hate them. He just, you know, hates Mother Miranda the most. (1st Tier: Canon)

Mother Miranda does not actually give a shit about the four Lords, intended for them to die before the ceremony, and has been manipulating them for her own gain this entire time. Her notes and dialogue make it clear that she only cares about getting Eva back. Somehow mother of the year and worst mother ever. At the same time. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly Canon)

It's unclear who treats Alcina "like a sister" to the other Lords. Were there cut lines of dialogue that cemented the idea of them being a "family"? Did Miranda call them a "family" as part of pretending she cared about them? I've done my best to dig around, but there's very little in game that treats them as a family of any sort.

As each Lord ruled their own section of the region, they don't have any mentions of interacting with each other outside of meetings with Mother Miranda. None of the notes for any Lord (and their relevant experiments) mention what the others are doing. In game, their environments are very separate, very well divided, though this is likely as much for gameplay as it is for story.

Conclusion:

I do not not believe there is enough in game evidence to suggest that Alcina and Donna consider themselves to be siblings. There's the possibility for a large age gap, Alcina was a fair bit older than Donna when she met Miranda, Donna is a social recluse whose closest bonds were with dead blood relatives and dolls, Alcina openly dislikes (if not hates) the other Lords, they seemingly lived very separate and distanced lives, and Mother Miranda does not enforce the idea of "family". Furthermore, the sheer contrast between how Alcina interacts with/speaks of the other Lords compared to how she interacts with/speaks of her daughters says a lot about her feelings. Even if Heisenberg takes the brunt of her anger, Alcina never once says anything remotely positive about anyone other than Miranda and her daughters.

As Alcina/Bela and Donna are not blood-relatives, the definition of what would count as "incest" does vary depending on who you ask. Personally, I do count non-blood relations as potentially incestuous. For example: Alcina "dating" one of her daughters would be incest, regardless of the fact that she's a mutated human and her daughters are weird swarms of flies.

Now, I do understand how popular the idea of the four Lords being a real, chaotic but still close family is. And as I mentioned above, it's totally valid to not like the Bela///Donna ship, whether it's because you think they're family or some other reason. I don't personally see them that way, even in my definitely-not-canon stories.

Do I personally ship Bela///Donna? Nope. Have I liked art for the ship? Admittedly yes, even if I thought some of it was, like, maiden x Bela because Donna didn't have her veil and I'm a DUMBASS who doesn't always remember to read tags. Would I ever write for it? Yeah, probably, assuming I didn't miss anything in game/that I don't eventually change my mind.

#*incredibly deep sigh* #*incoherent screaming* #it's 6 in the morning #i spent too long doing research #again feel free to send me links if you think I missed something #what do I even tag this as? #asks #anonymous #meta shit #i'm procrastinating on posting this because of anxiety #I'm worried 2 specific followers are going to unfollow me #and possibly one mutual #somebody just kill me already

[lily-mj-fae]

Nesta and Elain

I’m going to add now: I recognize my own clear bias towards Elain. And in many ways, this post is in part to defend her, especially since now that fandom has more insight on Nesta, there’s been an increase in hate towards Elain, especially in regards to her interactions with Nesta. Some of these include expecting her to remain in a toxic situation purely because she “owes” Nesta. And so i want to discuss, why that mindset is wrong (which i’ve done a couple times in terms of morally/ethically) because they barely have a relationship anyway. Mostly, i just want to actually describe what we see of them. I’m going to try to stick to mostly just facts of what happens, with some inferences based on text on either side.

So there’s a lot of evidence to show, that while the two clearly clung to each other when their family fell, and that there’s obvious love on either side for each other, they do not have a strong relationship. Or a healthy one. Or a good one.

Not only do we have Elain mentioning that no one ever really listens to her (which is obvious it does in fact apply to her family as we see in canon a few times over, I’ll get to that). But you’d have thought that in ACOSF we’d see some kind of fond memories from Nesta about Elain. Some kind of fondness. Something that made us really believed and finally understand why she loved Elain so fiercely she would have ripped apart the world to defend her. Instead, we learn, Nesta has never told anyone she loved them until she said it to Feyre. And we do not see a single happy thought about Elain from Nesta. No happy memories. Nothing. But there was no explanation for WHY she felt so strongly for just Elain. And not a single thing to really support her feeling that way.

We’re led by Feyre to believe that Elain and Nesta are so close. And at first glance, sure, it’s easy to believe. They spend the most time together. They gossip and talk at dinner together. They have the matching iron bracelets (that I believe wasn’t a purchase made by both as Feyre seemed to think, but by Nesta, because Feyre mentions specifically how Elain had spent her money on gifts for her sisters, and I think if Elain had been involved, she would have gotten one for Feyre). Then throughout the series we see how much Nesta is willing to fight to protect Elain. How much she wants to keep Elain away from danger. We see her wanting to do things with Nesta, but not knowing how anymore because she’s becoming more distant. We see Elain even wanting to spend time with Nesta and trying to keep her included in things into ACOFAS.

To me, the illusion fades with that conversation with Lucien in the library. When Elain says that no one really heard her. And when you look at things, it becomes obvious. Most especially with Nesta. Feyre we know already knows little about her sisters. She assumed that Nesta hated her, and that her sisters would be glad to have her gone. And is surprised that Nesta would have gone after her. But with Elain we see this frequently. Elain wants to help Feyre. So she speaks up. Yes, it puts her relationship at risk. And yes, we know that Nesta takes over in an attempt to provide a buffer for Elain should Graysen find out, to maybe save her from the heartbreak of him leaving her for helping any Fae. But it doesn’t change that it was Elain’s decision. Elain’s desire to help. Nesta instead pushed her out of it wherever she could (IE taking over correspondence for them) in the name of protecting her. This is a problem. Because 1) Nesta is sacrificing her own feelings to do what Elain wants, which I think is wrong. Nesta didn’t want to help, and I think she should have stuck to that. Stuck to her own decision. 2) Nesta is preventing Elain from dealing with consequences of her actions (IE, if Graysen found out she was helping the fae). 3) This is disrespecting Elain's agency. She's not letting Elain be herself by constantly interfering 4) she then goes on to belittle Elain for those things, despite it being her decisions and actions to interfere. And we can recognize that her intentions are good all we want, it doesn't make the actions themselves good or even appropriate. Intentions only mean so much. They certainly don't excuse such detrimental behavior.

Now could Elain have fought back? The black and white answer? Yes. But it's not that simple. Elain we know has been belittled from a young age by at least her mother (okay that's an assumption on my part. But with feyre's description of their mother and Nesta's memories, i certainly wouldn't be surprised if she'd said those things to Elain's face). And essentially raised to be pleasant and agreeable. A proper lady. Her confidence in herself doesn't seem very high. Not to mention, she's much quieter than Nesta. Imagine how exhausting it would be to fight your sister on every little thing you wanted to do. And we see this in canon. Every time Elain wants to help, she has to fight Nesta. I don't think this just magically started in acomaf. I'd wager its been going since a minimum of coming to the cottage (It’s part of why I think Elain doesn’t necessarily take up chopping wood when the request is there. i think she attempted once, and Nesta stopped her and wouldn’t let her). I personally think since their mother's death. Elain is also younger than Nesta, and we do have canon evidence of her having at least one memory full of complete adoration. And a respect for the art form and her sister's views on life. So her fighting back, isn’t as easy as fandom wants to think it is.

I also want to bring up someone once mentioning in ACOTAR when Elain and Feyre were talking, and Elain mentions that she feels awful to have her friends over because Nesta makes them uncomfortable, and how that’s so disrespectful of Elain. No it’s not. Elain is allowed to have friends over. And Nesta just glared at them. I’m not saying she had to like them (because I understand why she wouldn’t), but that was rude, and she could have easily been elsewhere, and let Elain have her friends and enjoy time with them. I also read it differently, in that Elain feels awful inviting her friends over because it’s upsetting Nesta too. Which isn’t fair to her either, given that Nesta has at that point begun isolating herself (and while we as readers become aware of why later, Elain has absolutely no idea. And already has said Nesta wouldn’t talk about it. Implying she tried reaching out too), thus leaving Elain feeling very lonely. Overall, Elain here is feeling the way she should. It’s like when you have company over and your parents start yelling at you, or just being anything less than polite and you have to deal with the awkward tension. 

Then comes ACOSF. And i know i wasn't the only one hoping to find out more about their relationship. And i’m not the only one who was left disappointed that we still don’t get to understand Nesta’s behavior when it comes to Elain. In fact, if I had only read ACOSF and you had told me that before that, Elain seemed to be Nesta’s favorite sister, I’d call you a liar. I do not get a single ounce that Nest has a loving feeling for Elain in ACOSF. Certainly at the very least, not enough to justify the way she treated Elain vs. Feyre in earlier books. Not to mention, Nesta is under the very immature and inaccurate idea that Elain has chosen Feyre over her. As if it’s black and white. As if Elain can only love her or Feyre. And yes, it’s a sign of her mental illness with depression and trauma. That’s fine. But it still shows a very limited viewpoint. And really only shows a care for herself, no thought of Elain or Elain’s state of mind or even really any empathy for the fact that Nesta was the one causing the rift between them and how that was truly affecting Elain. (Again more trauma response. But my point here is that there is very little empathy towards the sister that we’re told she so vehemently loves).

Now onto the part that I know is my unpopular fandom opinion: Nesta dealing with Elain’s trauma vs Elain dealing with Nesta’s...and how their traumas were very different to deal with in the first place.

My unpopular opinion is that Nesta wasn’t doing anything to actually help Elain. She was doing everything to protect her. But was not interested really in her healing. Nesta isolated Elain, who had previously been social in many ways. We don’t ever see how she fought for Elain to eat or drink or have a will to live. We only hear her say that’s what she did. But fandom does need to stop saying that Nesta was with Elain every second of every day (i have had people say this in arguments. It’s a flat out lie. There’s far more textual evidence that Nesta left Elain alone throughout her trauma than there is that she was by her side constantly. And I don’t say she was never by her side). Because the fact of the matter is that isn’t remotely true. Perhaps of the first few weeks. Before Feyre returned. But after that? We hardly see Nesta with Elain. We instead see her keeping people from interacting with her. Keeping them from giving Elain choices.

And we can shout that she was doing what she thought was best, but it doesn’t change that the effect it had was Elain being isolated and underprepared. Elain had been trying to do her part to help since ACOMAF. And she was being blocked. Elain deserved that chance to go to the high lord’s meeting and share her story (especially since Nesta didn’t want to and wasn’t going to up until the last minute). And Elain should have been offered the same training as Nesta. Especially once they learned she had powers. Instead no one offered to let her help (even though she’d been wanting to help since Feyre first came asking). No one offered to train her. Because Nesta would have had their heads. Saying that it was to keep Elain from doing something she might not have been ready for, plays into the idea that Nesta is protecting Elain from growing. Learning. Protecting her from the consequences. Nesta refused to let anyone really near her beyond the necessities.

Speaking of: Can we please talk about something no one else does? The fact that Nesta just accepts the fact that Elain is mad. That she’s broken. The effect that could have had on her, is so detrimental to Elain’s mental health. The thoughts she was probably already dealing with and then to hear that from her sister? Like she refuses to accept that there could be another answer. And while we might agree and empathize why she would say that, it doesn’t change the effect saying it would have on Elain, who was already struggling heavily to deal with everything that had been thrown at her at once. And even once Elain became Lucid, and they identified the problem, Nesta (and Feyre) continued to try to leave her behind. Again, yes, in the name of protecting Elain. But Nesta never listened to Elain. Never saw that Elain improved upon being involved. That just that action of her wanting to do something, was making her Lucid and back to herself. Instead, Nesta ignored that. Which is why I say she wasn’t focused on Elain’s healing. That and the fact that she’s making assumptions that Elain is fine now.

Elain tried to stay involved with Nesta. No, she didn’t go outside her comfort zone and go into the places Nesta was spending time. But she was trying. I admit, the shot upon Nesta’s arrival is weird. I’m torn between thinking it was a legit, to help relax, or thinking it was something she was pouring as Amren said the comment and decided to drink it instead of giving it to Nesta. (Because yes, it would be easy to say as Amren spoke, elain had been pouring, but even without that, it doesn’t mean things aren’t happening at the same time). When that didn’t work, Elain agreed intervention was necessary. and I just made a whole ass post about why that wasn’t giving up on Nesta like fandom keeps thinking.  

And of course, Elain is not perfect here. She has made her mistakes. Though hers are mostly in terms of words. At least the ones I could find textual evidence for when it comes to Elain and Nesta. And mostly done in terms of emotional response.

Now. I did not intend for this post to shit on Nesta. I’m afraid it feels like it has. So I am going to tag it accordingly. But this was more to bring to light the reality that Nesta and Elain aren’t that close. They don’t have a close relationship. They were more security blankets for each other in ACOTAR, and their missing foundation began to show in ACOMAF when Nesta was unaffected by Tamlin’s Glamour and Elain was. I do think there’s a lot of love to be had between them. (Honestly hearing Elain talk about Nesta dancing, and hearing her be happy that Nesta has the Valkyries, even though she feels like she’s been losing Nesta made my heart swell for the amount of love there). But I wanted to point out that their relationship was extremely surface level and nothing deep. That it’s certainly not what fandom acts like it is as they spin this tale of complete and utter evil Elain betraying Nesta and how Nesta has done so much for Elain. Nesta had never even told Elain she loved her. Ever. Which i think is telling about where they really stand. 

So let’s please stop acting like Elain owes Nesta everything under the sun because of all the things Nesta did for her. Their relationship was never deep. And while Nesta’s protectiveness stems from a place of love, is actually more detrimental to Elain and her overall growth, than it is good. And Elain has done the things she considered to be best for Nesta, and tried to show love her way. Which is equally unperfect. Because neither of them are perfect. 

#elain archeron #anti Nesta Archeron #anti nesta #acosf #acotar

[atmostories]

Okay, this might be a bit obscure and all that, but write something with Terry McCain from Excessive Force - I can't believe we got not one, but two characters played by Thomas Ian Griffith and they're both called Terry and I really need this right now. It's highly self-indulgent, but - 😂💜😉

Yandere Terry McCain x Reader Terry was. . .well frankly he was ridiculous.   If there was an award for a perfect human being, he'd be in the  running. Physically. . .well look at him. Somehow he was both pretty and  handsome, he had a beautiful smile, bright expressive eyes, lush, curly  hair that was the envy of anyone in his vicinity, he was absurdly tall,  both strong and fit from his work and from the martial arts he  practiced on a regular basis. He was a cop, which could have easily been  a demerit, but he truly wanted to help people and his heart was  infallibly in the right place. The thought that he'd ever be corruptible  simply was not feasible in any form or fashion.  

Terry was also a musician. He could both sing and play the piano which he did on a regular basis at the jazz club. Terry would literally waltz into the club, remove the pianist with nothing but a warm smile and a hand gesture, before he'd somehow immediately play along with the band like he'd been a member of theirs for years. You couldn't even call him arrogant because he never overstated his capabilities, he simply was that talented. Of course he was well liked by everyone he came across. Even the criminals he arrested probably couldn't help but admire him in some way. His coworkers adored him and whenever you met him at the station, the secretary on one of the front desks would always gush about whatever latest assortment of pastries Terry had brought in from the bakers a few blocks over. He was kind, considerate of others, headstrong about taking care of people. Sometimes he'd be too protective and insistent but again he couldn't be faulted for it. You'd been friends with him for over a year now. To this day, you still didn't know what he saw in you. A couple of weeks after you met him for the first time he broke up with his girlfriend, who was, as expected, absurdly gorgeous like he was and actually worked as a model. Unlike how you'd imagined, she was genuinely sweet and easygoing and she didn't harbour any bad feelings against Terry. He'd broken up with her and she still respected him and hell they were still friends. It was like they were both in a separate category of human, far beyond the reach of normal folk, far beyond your clutches. Falling in love with him was as natural as breathing. It couldn't be helped. You tried so hard to ignore it, to suppress that pleasant ache in your heart every time you saw him, but it was pointless, inescapable. You would never tell him how you truly felt. His friendship meant too much to you. Terry was a good man, a close friend, confessing your feelings would muddy the waters. You could so clearly picture the pity in his eyes, how uncomfortable it would make him and how he'd try his best to be nice about the whole thing. Silence was the only option, maybe over time the feelings would fade. He'd picked you up from work and drove you to his apartment, animatedly describing his day and ranting about his boss Devlin again. After opening up the apartment door, Terry took off his coat, threw it haphazardly onto the sofa and said he was going to shower, what with all that criminal chasing. He also promised he'd cook you dinner and forbade you from the kitchen so you found yourself settling down on the sofa. You were about to turn on the TV when his coat fell onto the floor. Picking it up, you wandered to his bedroom looking for a hanger, to save the coat from wrinkling. A pile of folders was sprawled across his bed, bits of paper, photos and mugshots were laid out in disarray. You supposed being somewhat disorganised could be one of his faults, though you were sure that would be how he worked best, how he made links with his investigations. He hadn't specifically barred you from looking at his work but hadn't actively encouraged you either so in the past you left it well enough alone. That was until you spotted something familiar in the corner of one of the photos which was mostly covered by some paper. Standing next to the bed, you leaned in closer, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You slowly uncovered the picture, your heart stuttering at the sight of yourself. You were fast asleep, in your own bed. . .what. . .why did he. . .what was this? Before you could stop yourself, you were lifting up folder after folder until you saw one with your name on it. Blood rushed to your ears. No, no, there had to be some explanation, some reason for this. Maybe he was just being facetious and had checked to make sure you hadn't done anything illegal. You could believe that, you could. . . You flicked through the pages, horror seeped into you with every passing moment. This wasn't just a criminal history check, this was. . .this was everything, it was your whole life splayed out before you in explicit, bone-chilling detail. Your family, your background, your childhood, your exam results, pictures of you when you were younger, your employment history, your friends, a list of every person you'd ever been intimate with, a psychiatric profile and oh fuck he'd made little notes too. Slight improvement of self esteem after initiation of physical contact. You immediately turned over to the next page, and your gut lurched. There was a collection of photos of you, more photos of you sleeping, you at work, you walking down the street, you waiting for him outside a diner. Closing the file, you gently lowered it back down onto the bed, placing it carefully how it was before. You walked back to the sofa with his coat still in hand. The shower was still running, but he wouldn't be long. He didn't like to make you wait. Your eyes fixated on the front door, the urge to run at the forefront of your mind. You had to get out, you had to get away from him. You couldn't deal with this, you had to go, but then. . .he'd know something was wrong, he'd know what you saw, and what would he do then? No, you had to stay, things had to appear normal, perfectly normal. Laying out the coat on the armrest, you stared at your hands resting on your lap. They were shaking slightly. You felt nauseous. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be fucking happening. What were you to him? A project? An investigation? A charity case? Something to dissect and pull apart for his own amusement? You should have known something was wrong, you should have known he was too good to be true, people weren't just that good, people weren't just that nice, especially not to you. Why didn't you see it before? How did you believe it so easily? All those pictures. . .he'd been. . .he'd been surveilling you? Watching you? He'd taken pictures while you were sleeping. . .what else had he done? You felt violated, small, insignificant, and so terribly alone. How were you going to keep it together? How were you going to- “Something wrong with the TV?” The sound of his voice almost made you flinch. You turned to see him wearing sweatpants and a black vest. His hair was still damp, there was a towel over his shoulders. “Uhh. . .” you mumbled as he held up the remote and clicked on the TV. He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, obviously wondering why you had been sitting still in silence. “I've uh. . .had a long day.” “Oh. Why didn't you say something earlier?” He asked, positioning himself next to you on the sofa. His arms wrapped around you and he pressed himself firmly against you, the pleasant smell of his skin filling your nostrils. You forced yourself to return the hug, mind picturing the little note he'd written. “Don't worry,” he murmured softly. “I'll make you all better.”

#Terry McCain #terry mccain x reader #excessive force #thomas ian griffith #yandere x reader #excessive force 1993 #atmo

[giveemhales]

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 10/?

For @averystereksummer Day 6

AU where Stiles has a fear of storms

For the prompt: “How’s the weather?”

With a ficlet! Content warning for anxiety and panic attacks.

Stiles was afraid of storms.

Maybe that’s putting it wrong, because there’s a lot of things Stiles was afraid of that he could deal with. Really, he had a fear of storms, “astraphobia.” He hated it.

He wished he could say there was a reason. That his mother died on a stormy night or that the thunder reminds him of gun shots.

But there was no rhyme or reason. It was nothing more than a phobia, an anxiety disorder, an evolutionary flaw.

He’s always been good at hiding it, though. When he was younger, he hid it because he was made fun enough as is, he didn’t want to give any other material for his bullies to work with. Not even Scott ever figured it out. He could usually handle rain, but when there was thunder, he’d always make an excuses to go home, whether he was at school or on a sleepover. He’d usually say he was sick, and his mother was understanding enough that she’d be willing to take him home. She would build them a blanket fort and put on way too loud cartoons to help drown out the noise. Sometimes she would hold him closely, and remind him the thunder couldn’t hurt him, and that she would always protect him.

Then his mother died, and his fear got worse. It wasn’t just that storms were harder to handle without his mother, it was also the way his mental health had deteriorated after her death. His anxiety was significantly worse, and things that once scared him would now trigger full blown panic attacks.

His father got him a therapist to help him, but the therapist was mostly focused on his grief and how to handle his panic attacks. He had coping mechanisms now, but he still tried to avoid being out when there was a storm at all cost. Avoidance wasn’t necessarily healthy, but it was what worked for him. He continued to claim illness, and would curl up under the covers, blasting music through his earbuds.

He had even managed to hide this fear from the pack, which he’d say was pretty impressive considering most of the members could quite literally smell fear.

He religiously checked the weather every day, using multiple sources for the daily and weekly forecasts. If there was a forecast for a thunderstorm at any point, he’d make up plans (which was difficult when dealing with people who can hear when you’re lying, but he had perfected the art of half truths, always using something like “having homework” or “wanting to see his dad,” which were all technically true). So far, he’d only been outside in a thunder storm with the pack once, and they were fighting wendigos so they didn’t really question his scent of fear or him running off to his Jeep as soon as the creatures were declared dead. That was one of the few times in his life he had been unable to avoid being outside during a thunderstorm, and the resulting panic attack had been so bad he hadn’t been able to go to the school the next day (which was easy enough to get away with, since the rain had also resulted in a cold).

He’s not really sure why he spends so much time and energy hiding this fear like it’s a dirty secret. Maybe part of it was that he knew he couldn’t avoid thunderstorms, but he could try to avoid being around people during thunderstorms. It gave him something to focus on, a feeling of control.

Honestly though, he knew it was mostly his own insecurities. He was at a good place with the pack, and he doesn’t really think any of them would be malicious if they were to find out. But he knew that he was just human, that he was weaker than the rest of them, and he strived everyday to prove he could keep up. He couldn’t show any weaknesses because he couldn’t let them know he was weak.

So he had basically perfected the art of keeping his phobia hidden away from the rest of the world.

But one of the worst things about storms was that you don’t always know when they’re coming. And that’s what led to his current predicament.

He was in the car with Derek after they had met with a pack outside of town. The pack was new to the area and hoping to make an alliance. With Derek the alpha and Stiles the emissary, it was customary for the two of them to make negotiations.

The meeting had been fine. A simple agreement had been made and then Derek and Stiles made the hour long drive back to Beacon Hills, specifically to Derek’s loft where Stiles’ Jeep was waiting.

Derek had insisted that they drive together, and had refused to go in Stiles’ “death trap” (more like because he was a dick), so Stiles was now seated in the passenger side of the camaro. And that was fine, Stiles honestly enjoyed spending time with Derek. But it was about half an hour outside of Beacon Hills that he noticed the grey clouds.

Stiles had checked multiple weather sources that morning like he always did, and none of them had mentioned a chance of storms. A couple had mentioned a chance of rain that night, but it was still afternoon. There was no reason to expect a risk of storms.

But Stiles had obsessively studied storms enough to know what storm clouds looked like. And right now there were definitely storm clouds in the direction of Beacon Hills.

Fuck.

“How’s the weather? I mean, do you know? I feel like with your special werewolf senses you should be able to tell. You know, smell when a storm is coming. That would actually be pretty cool, it would make you a great meteorologist. Although meteorologists aren’t as bad as people make them seem. They actually have a 90% accuracy five days in advance. And on the actual day are usually within 2.5 degrees in their predictions. That’s pretty impressive. But obviously they don’t always get it right. Clearly, since they hadn’t said there would be rain today and-“

“Stiles!” Derek barked, cutting him off. “No, I can’t “sense” the weather. But from those clouds over there I’d say it’s probably going to rain.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Looks like it. That’s cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.”

Derek side-eyed him, but at this point he was used to Derek’s seemingly constant annoyance with him.

His leg began bouncing, as it usually did when he was nervous. Derek was clearly annoyed, but fortunately didn’t say anything.

A couple minutes later, the drizzle began, and Derek turned on the windshield wiper. Stiles looked down at his phone which had the directions. Still 20 minutes to go. He desperately hoped that they would get back before any thunder started, but it seemed unlikely.

Stiles leaned over and began fiddling with the radio. He eventually found a station playing heavy metal, and turned it up as loud as it would go, hoping it would be enough should there be any thunder.

Derek cursed and immediately shut off the radio. “What the fuck is your problem, did you forget about the werewolf hearing?” He grumbled, pawing at his ears with one hand still on the wheel.

“Just wanted some music, you’re so quiet, you know. Thought we could liven things up.”

Derek just growled in reply, which was pretty par for the course for him, so Stiles didn’t bother saying anything else.

Pretty soon, the rain started getting heavier, pouring down loudly on the windshield. Derek increased the speed of the windshield wiper, but seemed unbothered.

Stiles opened his mouth before closing it again. He honestly wanted to just explain to Derek why he was being so weird. Derek wasn’t the type to judge, and would probably even do what he could to be accommodating.

But at the same time, he couldn’t think of worse person to find out about his fear. Besides the fact that Derek was one of the strongest, bravest people he had ever met, Stiles had also been pining after him for years. He knew Derek had seen him as the hyperactive, token human, and even if Stiles now had a spark and Derek had accepted him as the pack’s emissary, Stiles didn’t want to risk revealing anything that might ruin their progress. He knew Derek would never feel the same about him as he did, and he was okay with that, but he was absolutely not okay with Derek ever viewing him as lesser. He wouldn’t, couldn’t be seen as weak.

So Stiles kept his mouth shut, and tried to just focus on anything other than the impending storm.

That worked out until the thunder came.

The first roll of thunder hit when they were about 10 minutes from the loft, and Stiles’ composure began to crumble.

He felt his heart beat quicken, his palms sweat, his breath become raggedy and stomach begin to cramp. These were standard symptoms for his anxiety, but not something he ever truly got used to.

He tried to focus on his breathing, but was interrupted by Derek.

“What’s wrong? Your heart is pounding and your breathing sounds weird,” Derek said, the concern clear in his voice. Stiles supposed that after all the terrifying shit he had been through, it would make sense that Derek wouldn’t make the connection between his fear and the thunder.

Stiles clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying to block everything out. “Nothing. I’m fine, dude,” he ground out.

He could practically hear Derek rolling his eyes, but for once he ignored the “dude” comment. “You’re clearly not fine, I can smell the anxiety rolling off you. If you’re in danger or if something’s wrong, I need to know.”

“I said I’m fine. Just drop it,” Stiles knew Derek would be able to hear the lie, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was focusing too much energy on trying to calm down to come up with a plausible lie for why he was acting the way he was.

“Please, Stiles, I just want to help you,” Derek’s voice was softer than Stiles had ever heard, and he hated the way it made his eyes tear up. He turned and rested his forehead on the window, trying to focus on the cool feeling.

Stiles was surprised Derek didn’t pry further, but instead grabbed his hand.

Stiles thought about the fact that his palms were sweaty and probably pretty gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. It wasn’t even because he had been dreaming of holding Derek’s hand for years. It was because it helped ground him.

He tried to focus on touch so he could block out the flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder. He tried to think about the warmth of Derek’s hand, and his mother’s voice when she reminded him the storms couldn’t hurt him. He counted his breaths, and reminded himself they were only a few minutes away. And as soon as they were back, he could get in his Jeep, blast his music, and try to ignore the outside world.

They arrived to the loft, and Stiles vaulted out of the Camaro before it was even in park (although a small part of him was reluctant to let go of Derek’s hand).

He ran as fast as he could to the Jeep to try to avoid the worst of the storm. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to make it to the Jeep before he was being grabbed by Derek (honestly, fuck werewolf speed, that’s just not fair).

“Stiles, I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t just let you leave if you’re in danger!”

One of the symptoms of anxiety that is less talked about is that heightened anxiety makes a person prone to emotional outbreaks. Maybe that’s why he lost it at that moment. Or maybe it had been building up for years, the anger and shame and fear finally boiling over. Or maybe he just wanted somebody to know, because he was so tired of being alone.

Whatever the reason was, Stiles finally let it all out.

“Oh my god, I’m not in danger. Nothing is going to happen to me and I logically know that but I can’t help it. I’m terrified of storms. Is that what you wanted me to say?” Stiles was yelling, even though he was sure Derek could hear him perfectly well, but he couldn’t stop. “I’m terrified of how loud the thunder is, how I can barely hear myself think over the noise. I’m terrified of lightning even though the likelihood of being struck is one in a million. I’m terrified that I can’t always prepare for storms and that I have no way to control the weather. And I know it’s a fucking stupid fear. And that’s why I’ve tried so hard to hide it. But I feel like I can’t breathe. And you probably don’t know what that’s like, you probably don’t have stupid fears and constant anxiety because you’re the bravest person I know. But you know now so please just drop it.”

Stiles was panting by the end of his rant. He wanted to turn around, to go to his car, just like he said he wanted, but the masochist in him needed to see how Derek was going to react.

“Do you really think I’ll judge you for that? You think I don’t feel afraid? I’m scared every day. I’m afraid I’m going to fail as an alpha. I’m afraid I’m going to lose everything again. Hell, I’m afraid every second I’m around you.”

“What? Why would you be afraid around me?” Stiles asked incredulously, fairly certain Derek was just making it up to make him feel better.

“Because I’m afraid I’m finally going to break and kiss you.”

Stiles isn’t sure what Derek saw in Stiles’ slack-jawed expression, but evidently it was an invitation, because the next thing Stiles knew, there were lips on his own.

Derek’s were wet from the rain, but still warm. The kiss was soft and tender, and everything Stiles had ever wanted.

Unfortunately, it was still storming, and Stiles jumped back just a moment later when there was a roar of thunder and crack of lightning.

Derek looked stricken, clearly drawing the wrong conclusion.

Stiles was quick to correct him. “As amazing as that kiss was, I can’t- I need to be alone right now.”

Derek looked relieved, and reached out to Stiles. “Do you- You’re welcome in the loft if you’d prefer.”

Stiles usually preferred to be alone during storms so no one could see his vulnerability, but the Jeep was also usually his last resort. The loft would be much quieter, so he nodded and took Derek’s hand.

Up in the loft, Derek grabbed Stiles a towel to dry himself since he was dripping everywhere. After he dried off, he went ahead and wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up on the couch. “Do you mind if I turn on the TV? Noise helps.” He was still shaking, but felt himself calming down. Hopefully if he put on the TV, he could try to forget about the storm.

Derek nodded and then paused. “I can leave if you’d like but if it would help... Would you mind if I just held you?”

After years of keeping his fears private, Stiles’ instinct was to ask him to leave. But he remembered how he would feel when his mom would hold him during storms. He remembered how his fears had quietened when Derek had kissed him. He remembered all the reasons he fell in love with Derek, and how safe he made him feel.

He nodded.

#avss2020 #avssweather #this is kinda late #also rushed #i might edit later and add more to the end #and post on ao3 #but this is what i have for now #also this is my first gifset #not my gifs tho #just pls be nice #sterek #sterek au #derek hale #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #sterek moodboard #sterek edit #teen wolf edits #sterek gifset #gifset #au #aesthetic #storms #mood board #my moodboards #moodboards for sterek aus #my writing #sterek fanfic #sterek ficlet #my stuff

[lizacstuff]

SCK Asks: Episode 38

(asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: happy edser just HITS different. maybe it's because we've been so deprived of them together and blissful, it's such a joy to watch. i had a silly grin on my face during all their scenes. sure the tumor cloud is looming over our heads, but this episode only laid the foundation for that and then went into romcom mode, which i really appreciated because we've been bogged down for SO LONG with heaviness, it was nice to just take a breather.

OMG! Yes, all of this. And I’m not sure if it’s happy Edser that hits different, or if it was whatever magic and sparkle these writers injected into this episode that made it hit different.  

The magic was BACK. The sparkle was BACK. These writers took the most ridiculous scenario idea (these two famous architects deciding to solve a murder) and just made it sing. I grinned through the whole thing and laughed out loud, A LOT. 

This was the first episode in ages where I wasn’t watching the clock and waiting for some uncomfortable or unpleasant moment or scene to occur. Instead watching was pure joy and no anxiety, even with a tumor diagnosis. 

There was so much good Edser in this episode it’s hard to know what to talk about. I loved every moment they were on screen together. 

Anonymous said: I have to hand it to you, you said that the reason they were doing this pregnancy story is so that we could find out that Selin and Serkan never slept together. ngl I wanted her to suffer more, but as long as she’s gone I’m fine with her punishment being the humiliation of having to admit that in front of Eda. 

Ha! Yes, I have said that all along, and I’ve never been more relieved to be right. They really went the extra mile with having Selin spell out that it hadn’t happened.  With the English subs it almost sounded like they had never, ever had sex, even before.  If so, I could actually believe it, their prior relationship seemed to be very business like, like they were each other’s safe, convenient date to business and family functions, and it wasn’t emotional or physical for him. 

After the gross story around Selin, and how much damage she did and how much she got away with, this was not nearly enough comeuppance to sate my thirst for her pain. These writers started this story and introduced Selin’s role in it, so it’s not like they 100% inherited something they had nothing to do with. However, between Bige’s limited availability due to her father passing, Sarp Can having covid, and the way the other writers drug it into the ground, I’m also just happy it’s over and will deal with this being all we get, plus, while she didn’t get punished adequately, she did take her lumps. It’s humiliating that Serkan went around acting incredulous to everyone who would listen that she could be pregnant because he never touched her, even while she was his fiancé. I mean that’s a shrinker. Can you imagine agreeing to marry a man who you knew didn’t want to touch you? Everyone now knows her sad, pathetic desperation to have him under any circumstances. Yikes. 

And as you say, she then had to stand in front of Eda and Serkan and admit he didn’t touch her. Admit that Serkan never wanted her, and it’s humiliating that everyone at Art Life knows what she did and thinks she’s a monster. Serkan finally knows she’s an awful manipulator who tried to trick him, and in the end she gets an unplanned pregnancy with a man who doesn’t love her and whom she doesn’t love.  So it’s not like she’s winning by any stretch of the imagination. 

(Though I really wish everyone knew (mostly Serkan and Eda) that she sabotaged Eda’s presentation. It’s important for the characters to know that she can’t be trusted professionally as well as personally... but oh well.)

Anonymous said: Two things: 1) I kinda love it even more that they got the tattoos before he found about the illness.. idk why but it was even MORE romantic. Also does this mean they're kinda sorta engaged again since the reason she said no in the first place was Selin? and 2) I need more of that "ring for love" bell ASAP. My jaw actually dropped when he lifted her up since we were deprived of it in 26.. please more breaking of family structures!!

Oh I agree, I found it very romantic they went and got the tattoos and the only impetus was their desire to have a symbol of their love. I already love those tattoos so much, and I love that they sat their designing them together. They really do signify the ultimate commitment. 

I’m not sure if they’re engaged or not. Maybe they’re in a place where it’s obvious they’re going to get married, they both know they’re going to get married, but we’re still going to get one more proposal to make it official?  

As for the ring for love bell, when and where did he get that!? Hee. And yes to more breaking of the Turkish family structure. That lift and twirl through the living room was... HOT. And it was just so effortless, there are just no words at times for how good Hande and Kerem are, I’ve really never seen anything like it. They don’t really have time to rehearse on set, or limitless takes or the time to really block and perfect things, but they’re just so good together they make magic happen every time they’re on screen.  Amazing. Enjoy this kids, because you probably won’t see anything like it again. 

Anonymous said: With the nature of these shows, Eda and Serkan will not a blissful happily ever after without something hanging over there heads or some new drama until the show actually ends. So if the new angst is Serkan's potential illness, I'm down for the potential angst it'll create.. it's already a good sign that, although he hasn't told her about it yet, he's not pushing her away in fear, but instead the opposite. I also don't think, and really hope not, him keeping it secret rn won't cause trouble.

Yes, I like that even with that heavy health news hanging over the episode, it was still light and funny and romantic and had that old sparkle. That tells me that they’re going to strike the right tone with this story which seems to be a very carpe diem thing with Serkan. 

It didn’t bother me that he didn’t tell her. First, he told the doctor that he didn’t want anyone to know until he had a diagnosis. That makes sense, why worry her, or any of them, before they know.  I’m sure I would feel different if he was pushing her away because of the diagnosis, but since he’s holding her close and just seems to want to spend time with her, without that heaviness hanging over her head, I’m okay with it. 

Also, as seen in the new fragman, if this story is an excuse to get them out of the office and put them in all sorts of scenarios together it would otherwise be hard to justify, bring it on.  Let’s see how far down the list of things to do they can get! 

Anonymous said: i know no one reaaaally cares because they're not most people's favorite side characters, but it's really much nicer to watch aydan and ayfer scenes now that they're both on "team edser" and have become really good friends. i swear, the AAA trio scenes were so unbearable to watch when they were fighting over him and i was fast forwarding through all of them.. at least i can sit through team "united" aydan/ayfer scenes.

They’re actually enjoyable scenes now! I love that they’ve become actual true friends, best friends really, and along with Seyfi I love their little trio.  Love that Seyfi and Ayfer were being so supportive about Aydan rekindling something with Kemal.  And I agree that we can root for them when they’re working for Edser’s well-being and happiness.  I just hope Aydan doesn’t do something stupid if there begins to be some question about Serkan’s parentage. 

Anonymous said: the scooby doo gang ending had me laughing so hard i was tearing up when more and more people kept sneaking in and eda and serkan were getting more and more exasperated. erdem accidentally using flash took me tf out lmao. i love when sck does comedy with the whole cast and not just the usual "comedy" characters.. they're some of my favorite scenes! both "asking for the girl" scenes come to mind.

You could see Erdem using the flash coming from a mile away, but that still didn’t blunt the comedy when he actually did it.  So funny. Also Engin not recognizing Eda, imagine him thinking Serkan is there with some rando woman.  I also love the full cast comedy scenes, they are so much fun and really should be utilized as often as possible. 

The scene where Edser walk back into the house and Aydan and Kemal were there paying their respects had me screech-laughing! So so so funny. Both sides being incredulous that the other was there and wanting answers!  I also enjoyed that Serkan obviously put Erdem in charge of Kemal’s project, because he wants that project to go away. Unfortunately for Serkan, I think it’s going to take more than Erdem to drive Kemal away.  

Anonymous said: Everyone is saying serkan planned the whole thing, do you buy into that? Idk would he really put everyone in a gunpoint situation where they don’t know it’s fake? Cause that’s some potentially trauma inducing stuff. Also I have no idea where they’re going with this, since it’s been a 4 day break from set which is kind of worrying. And do you know why Melisa wasn’t in the ep? I know Sarp can got Covid but wasn’t Melisa posting with cast members on her story throughout the week?

Wow, this is a lot of negative energy and fretting after a really good episode. Deep breath. Since you sent this, we know that Hande and Kerem have been shooting for 2 full days at a romantic looking beach location for 39, so it looks like Edser has some sort of mini-getaway. I don’t see any reason to be concerned about the 4 day break last week. (now the fragman’s out, hopefully that puts your mind at ease)

No idea why Melissa wasn’t in the ep, other than the way the ep was structured with the supporting characters, if she had to miss the ArtLife shooting day then I can see that they would have had to write her out of the full episode, because most of their scenes were there and it set up everything for the rest of the episode. So perhaps she was in quarantine for a Covid exposure, maybe she was legit sick/injured (she has had a foot thing) or maybe she had a conflict for that one shooting day. No idea, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.  Also her absence gave us Ferit/Melo scenes and I’m 100% behind that, give us more of those! 

As far as if Serkan planned the whole thing, he did look pretty smug and relaxed while sitting there at the end, but he also wasn’t planning for the whole group to tag along and make a mess, lmao. We’ll have to see. 

Anonymous said: Do you think bad ratings makes sck in danger of being cancelled or do you think high social media engagement keeps it safe?

Friends, I don’t know anything about the Turkish system, but it seems to me that SCK will either go through May or extend into summer and end then, regardless of the ratings. We shall see. As I’ve said before I’m not going to engage in the fretting and worrying and discussion on this topic because no fan really knows what they’re talking about and there is nothing we can do to change what will happen. So just enjoy the show while we can, the news on when it will end will come when it comes. 

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal kapimi #edser #sck episode discussion #sckask #sck 1x38 #asklizac #anonymous

[amazingmsme]

The Sweetest Smell is You

AN: Get ready for a lot of sweet pinning & fluff! I know the demand for Witcher fics is high so enjoy this very self indulgent fic, it’s a bit longer!

They had been walking for quite some time. Well more accurately, Jaskier had been walking for quite some time. Geralt was comfortably sat atop Roach, surveying the road ahead. Having completed a contract on the outskirts Toussaint, they were currently heading for Temeria. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on Jaskier's neck. He reached back to wipe off the sweat and flick it onto the ground. It was late spring, closer to summer but not quite there yet.

They traveled along a narrow path through the forest, beaten down by hooves and feet. A creek ran along the trail, providing a symphony of frog chirps on its banks.

"Geralt do you think we can stop soon? It's hot and my feet are killing me," he complained. Jaskier didn't complain often, knowing if he did so he would only come across as a nag and when he really needed to voice his concerns they would be shrugged off. So he normally kept his more unpleasant opinions to himself. But they had been traveling since just after sunrise and it was well past noon by now.

"As soon as we find a safe place to stop, we can take a break," he promised. "But I'd rather keep moving." Jaskier rolled his eyes.

"Yes yes, my sore feet and I are well aware," he quipped. Then he grumbled more to himself, "I swear I'll walk a hole through this pair before the seasons change." Geralt held back a snort. 

He scented the air, searching for any signs of danger and found none. A faint floral scent drifted through the air, tipping him off to a possible clearing or meadow for Jaskier to rest for a while. He knew how much he loved flowers, and it would perhaps take his mind off of his aching body. He said nothing and continued their walk through the forest. The deeper they went, the stronger the smell became. Jaskier still couldn't quite pick up on it yet.

Geralt turned Roach and guided her closer to the small stream. He stepped off and grabbed their canteens and water jugs. "We should fill these up before our supply gets too low. Don't know when we'll come across another clean water source," he said. Jaskier abided and knelt down to refill the bottles. When he stood, he sniffed the air, nose crinkling adorably as he did so.

He smiled to himself. "Mmm smells good," he commented. Geralt couldn't help the smirk that pulled at the corners of his lips, thinking of the perfect reply.

"Thanks, I farted."

Jaskier's jaw dropped in disgusted, though he mostly did it to try and hide his amusement. Which he failed at. "You dihid not!" he laughed, pointing a finger at him. "Trust me, I would know if you did because I'd be on the ground gagging!" Geralt just rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly as Jaskier continued. "And then you'd blame it on Roach, only by now I've learned that hers are only half as bad," he argued. Said horse tossed her head at the insult and stomped her hoof, knowing he was badmouthing her. He reached out and patted her neck. "Sorry girl but it's true."

Geralt interrupted them, climbing back on Roach. He gave her a gentle kick, urging her to walk across the water. Jaskier let out a huff, knowing that meant he'd have to cross as well.

"If I fall I'm blaming you," he muttered. He hopped from rock to rock, doing his best to keep his feet dry. There was nothing worse than wet shoes. He started to place a careful step on a visibly slick rock when Geralt brought the palm of his hand to his mouth and blew. A very loud, flatulent sound reverberated through the air, startling Jaskier to where he slipped on the mossy rock.

There was a loud cry of "NO!" followed by a splash. Geralt found himself laughing fully now as Jaskier sat in the shallow creek, glaring daggers at him. He extended a hand which Jaskier swatted away.

"Asshole, you're the worst," and while there was definitely anger in his tone, Geralt still picked up a slight undertone of amusement.

"C'mon I think there's a meadow or something nearby. I can smell it," he said, trying to win back his good graces.

"Yes, I can too," Jaskier started. "It's... familiar," he wondered aloud. As they continued walking, Jaskier lit up. "I know what this is, it used to grow in the woods near our estate!"

"Hm?" Geralt hummed in lieu of a question.

"It's honeysuckle," Jaskier said matter of factly. "I used to eat it all the time when I was little," he said, a distant look in his eyes. "Gods, that smell really takes me back. It's so good."

Geralt snorted, "Maybe to you, but for me it's too strong. Almost overbearing." They turned a corner deeper into the woods and saw a lush thicket of the flowering vines stretching over the ground and far into the trees above. Hundreds of tiny white and gold flowers bloomed from the rich green leaves, filling the air with the best smell Jaskier could remember.  It might've had something to do with nostalgia, but he didn't care. The scent was thick and sweet, smelling of fresh dew and flora. It was very strong, almost citrusy in a way. A bit fruity, with a hint of honey. Each breath through his nose warmed Jaskier's nostrils with memories from his childhood. He sighed in content and let himself fall to the ground.

Not many people could fall gracefully, Geralt thought, but Jaskier had it down to an art. His eyes were closed, a slight smile on his face. He spread his arms to his side like wings as his legs just, sort of gave out. He crumbled to the ground, letting the flowers cushion his fall. Geralt licked his dry lips, tearing his gaze away. He sat down beside him, watching as he picked a handful of the small flowers. When Jaskier opened his eyes he saw Geralt staring at him with a fond smile before quickly looking away.

Geralt scanned the horizon, hand coming up to pinch his nose shut.

"Hey you should be enjoying this! I bet with your enhanced senses it smells amazing!" Jaskier said. Geralt shook his head.

"It's too strong, I won't be able to detect any danger," he said. Jaskier smirked, "I'm sure your other senses will do the job just fine. And besides, I doubt anything too terrible is in these woods. We would've probably known by now."

Jaskier set his bounty in his lap, picking up one of the trumpet shaped flowers. He pinched off the end of the stalk, pulling out the string from the middle. When he got close to pulling it all the way out, a tiny drop of nectar was collected on the string. He touched it to his tongue, relishing in the sweet taste. He held one out to Geralt.

"Try it."

"I'll pass. It's bad enough having to smell it," he said. Jaskier scoffed, as though offended.

"Excuse you, it smells lovely." He leaned back on his hands, kicking off his boots and tossed them aside before peeling off his wet socks and chucking them as well. Jaskier burrowed his feet into the soft ground. "Much better," he commented.

"Mm."

Jaskier glanced at him from the side before offering another flower. Geralt shoved his hand away, and Jaskier smacked him back.

"Not for you, you oaf!" Roach was now leaning over Geralt and gently took the offering from his open palm. Geralt watched her incredulously. Damnit now he kind of wanted one. He turned back to see Jaskier holding another flower his way. He eyed it, raising a skeptical brow. He still had to keep up appearances.

"It's childish."

Jaskier gasped, placing a hand over his chest. "Are you calling me childish then too?" he questioned. Geralt only tilted his head. That was answer enough. "It's called having fun Geralt, maybe you should try it sometime." The man only grunted. Jaskier leaned forward, batting his eyelashes pleadingly. Damnit.

"Okay fine," he snatched the small yellow bloom from his hands, doing the same as he had seen Jaskier do. It was sweet, light and sugary with only a hint of a floral aftertaste. Much more pleasant than the thick, over powering smell that plagued the air around him. The pungent aroma lingered everywhere, blocking everything else out.

"What do you think?" Jaskier asked. Geralt hummed.

"It's pleasant. The smell is still too strong though. I can't even smell you anymore, and you're right in front of me," he said casually. Jaskier had an odd look on his face that Geralt couldn't quite place. It soon morphed into a wide grin, and Geralt knew that look meant trouble. At least for him.

"So you can smell me?" he asked, scooting closer.

"Not anymore," Geralt deadpanned.

"Ah yes, so you've said. But you are capable of smelling me, and from the sounds of it you're familiar with my scent," he reasoned. There was an... almost dreamy look in Jaskier's eyes, Geralt was sure of it.

"Of course I have, you've been following me for years."

Jaskier propped his elbow on his knee, resting his chin in his palm. "What do I smell like," he asked in a teasing tone. It was almost flirtatious, but that's just Jaskier being Jaskier. Besides, what does he know about flirting anyway? He just made the bard fall in the river because he didn't know what else to do. Geralt looked away.

"I don't remember," he lied.

"That's bullshit if I've ever heard it," Jaskier called him out. "C'mon, just tell me? Unless I stink, then definitely lie to me. But I doubt that I would stink because I do pride myself on my hygiene," he rambled. "So do tell," he eagerly awaited his answer.

Geralt shrugged his shoulders, trying to hide a slight smirk. "Sorry. Honeysuckle's clouding my memory." Jaskier let out an annoyed huff, hands on his hips.

"You know, you're really getting on my nerves today."

"Now you know how I feel," Geralt taunted. Jaskier narrowed his eyes.

"I would advise you tread lightly," he warned.

"Yeah okay," Geralt said dismissively. Jaskier pointed at him.

"I'm serious! I don't know why you're being so damn stubborn," he said.

Because you're cute when you're exasperated, Geralt didn't say. Instead he just hummed. Jaskier huffed in annoyance, puffing out his cheeks slightly as he blew a lock of hair out of his face. Fuck that shouldn't have looked as hot as it did. Jaskier's attention was back on him, and to his shock his throat went dry.

He had a mischievous gleam in his eye with a smirk to match. He crawled closer to him as he spoke. "Tell me, or else you'll regret it." Geralt was not so easily swayed.

He tilted his head. "Oh really? How do you suppose that?" Jaskier gave an experimental poke to his side, making him jerk away from the touch.

"Y'know, I'm still a bit upset about my impromptu swim," he started, and pushed Geralt to the ground. Both hands rested on each side of his chest as he straddled his waist. He leaned in close to Geralt face, and he could feel a heat spread through his entire body as he felt the bard's weight rest on him. "So I won't feel too bad about what I'm about to do."

Geralt was going to ask what he meant by that, but Jaskier's deft fingers dug under his arms. His entire body went stiff, and his face scrunched with the effort to hold in his laughter. The occasional chuckle slipped out with a puff of air, but he eventually caved to the feeling. His arms slammed down, effectively trapping Jaskier's hands.

"Wow Geralt, I don't think I've ever heard you laugh this hard before! Or laugh in general! Who knew it was such a nice sound?" he said, drilling his thumbs into the hollows. Despite all the rumors and lies told about witchers, they had once been human. And many of their human traits are able to shine through at times. Which is why, upon hearing those words, a blush began to creep onto his face. Jaskier's mouth dropped open in amazement.

"Oh my god, are you actually blushing?" he asked. "This is too good! Where else are you ticklish?" He asked.

"Ihihi dohon't knohohohow!" he laughed. It wasn't technically a lie, it had been over a century since he had played with his brothers like this, and he couldn't quite remember all of his spots. Jaskier tsked, "Well that just wont do."

He shifted his attack and began playing his ribs. Geralt's laughter was loud and unabashed as he squirmed underneath Jaskier's body. His hands were skilled from years of musical talent, and he easily dug in between each rib. He thought he was about to be thrown to the side once Geralt's hands latched onto his wrists, but instead of shoving him off, they just... stayed there. Interesting.

He traveled down to his sides, quickly moving over his stomach. He placed quick, sporadic pokes all over, leaving him a jumpy, twitchy mess. His laughter was higher pitched, more frantic. But he still hadn't asked Jaskier to stop, and so he didn't.

"Which is worse? Stomach, or ribs?" he asked, one hand tickling each spot, causing his laughter to kick up a notch.

"Jahahaskier, noho," he pleaded. Jaskier smirked and tilted his head to the side.

"No what? You really have to be more specific Geralt," he teased, not stopping the onslaught.

"Nohot answering!" Geralt cried. Jaskier mock pouted.

"Aw why not? Is it too embarrassing to admit? Well you have my word I won't tell a soul," Jaskier promised. "It's our little secret."

"Stomach," Geralt admitted through his laughter. Jaskier grinned so wide he thought his face might split in two. He slipped his hands underneath his clothes to massage the flesh there. Geralt threw his head back and pounded against the ground with his fists in an effort to not toss Jaskier aside. He raked his blunt nails over the taught skin, resulting in a shiver that ran throughout Geralt's whole body. Jaskier took his time exploring all over the muscled torso before him. When he scratched inside his bellybutton, he let out a scream as he arched his back before falling back to the ground.

"Ohohoho, bad spot?" Jaskier asked with a wolffish grin. Geralt closed his eyes, not able to stand the look Jaskier was giving him. He definitely noticed this and a gentle warmth filled his heart.

"Yehehes!" he admitted. Jaskier was amused with his honesty.

"Hmmm good to know," he said. He had never seen Geralt look so... happy. So genuinely happy. He shook himself out of the slight daze he was in. His hands journeyed over to his hips and touching the tops of his thighs.

"Fuck! Jaskier nohot thehere!" Geralt most certainly did not plead. Said man only raised an eyebrow.

"And why not? Judging from your reaction I would say I've struck a goldmine," he said rather smugly. Geralt finally met his eyes, and Jaskier could tell how much fun he was having. He didn't know much about how he was raised as a witcher, but from what he'd picked up they didn't have much time to play around and be kids. He did know that Geralt and the other witchers enjoyed roughhousing, so this was probably up his alley.

Geralt's eyes shone bright with childlike joy and barely concealed mischief. He wiggled slightly, testing how well he was pinned. Though it didn't really matter all that much, he could stop this if he really wanted to.

Jaskier drummed his fingers ever so lightly on his hips. Geralt grunted, trying to hold back his laughter. "So why would I stop now?" he asked, fingers still at work. His laughs were breathy huffs of air at the softer touch that began to grow more powerful as his fingers sank deeper in the skin.

While he could still talk, he said, "Do your worst then." And then he winked. Jaskier's mouth fell open and he felt his tongue go dry. He quickly recovered, drilling his thumbs into his hips to distract himself.

"Oh you are asking for it mister!" he exclaimed. And he really was. His words were a dare in themselves, the wink an open invitation. So Jaskier took it. He squeezed from his hips down his thighs, deciding to stay there upon seeing his reaction. Geralt thrashed from side to side, his legs drumming the thick plants beneath them.

"Fuhuhuhuck! Shit shit shit!" He grappled for a hold on Jaskier's hands, but ultimately failed, and succumbed to his fate. His laughter was deep and frantic now. It was a nice sound that resonated in your chest when you heard it. Geralt looked truly beautiful like this. His hair fanned out among the foliage, the white was a stark contrast to the rich green. A few of the blooms had fallen out due to all of his squirming, and were now gently tangled in his hair. His eyes seemed more vibrant, at least when they weren't squinted shut. His mouth hung open in a wide smile, the biggest Jaskier had ever seen him wear. And there, carved into his cheeks were bright, shining dimples. Jaskier couldn't help but coo.

"Oh my gods, how have I never noticed that you have dimples?" he cheered. He continued his work with one hand and brought the other up to poke at his cheek. Geralt tried to turn his head away, and the pink color on his face turned a shade darker. "Probably because you never even smile," Jaskier said in answer to his own question.

"Thahat's nohot true!" Geralt defended. Jaskier brought his hand back to the task at hand.

"Of course not, it's called teasing Geralt. Maybe you should try it sometime," he mused. He continued squeezing down his legs, eliciting a stream of loud snorts mixed in with the rich laughter. Jaskier couldn't help but to stare at him with amused shock.

"You fucking snort when you laugh this hard? I need to do this more often then," he said mostly to himself.

"You cahahahan't!" Geralt tried to reason, knowing the bard was probably telling the truth. Jaskier raked his nails slowly over the muscles in his thighs, making him buck once more with a strangled cry of mirth.

"Actually I can. I don't see you trying too hard to stop me," he pointed out. Geralt immediately yelled for him to shut up.

"Alright I'll grant you mercy, but only if you promise to tell me what I smell like." Geralt nodded, willing to do just about anything to get him to stop. Jaskier shot him a half evil grin, "Okay just one more spot first."

Before Geralt could even question him he brought his hands up to gently rake his nails across his neck. He immediately scrunched his shoulders and let out a string of giggles. His fingers worked swiftly along the skin, effectively turning the man to mush. He slowly stopped squirming as much and just melted. Oh this was wonderful.

He tossed his head from side to side, trying to dislodge his attack. Then he moved to rake his blunt nails right behind his ears. Geralt let out a strangled screech, eyes widening at the sound as he moved to cover his mouth.

"Oh no you don't," Jaskier said as he pulled his hand away. God, he had never seen the witcher look so, so giddy before.

"Jahaskier," he said through a laugh. Then their eyes locked and everything froze. Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled in. He kept leaning lower. Geralt seemed to be frozen beneath him. He kept leaning forward until he was mere inches away from Geralt's face; he flashed him a dazzling smile and a wink to go with it before he dove down to his neck. His lips connected with the tender skin as he blew out a large breath.

"NOHOHO!" Geralt yelled as he arched his back, not able to take it any longer. Jaskier rolled off of him, chuckling as he did so. He propped his head in his palm, laying on his side. He stared at him, and a whiff of smugness greeted Geralt's nostrils through the flowers.

Jaskier batted his eyes down at Geralt and asked, "So, what do I smell like?"

"Right now smug as hell." This only seemed to make him beam more.

"Well I have reason to be. I just took down a witcher with my bare hands," he bragged. Geralt rolled his eyes and nudged him with his knee.

"Alright don't be too cocky," he warned, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier settled deeper into the vines, "What else?"

Geralt hummed in thought, "Like sandalwood and lavender."

"I smell good," Jaskier nodded, seemingly proud of himself. This made Geralt smile even more.  He hummed once more.

There was a still beat, before Geralt pounced. He easily grabbed Jaskier's wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand. He looked dazed and flushed, a nervous smile already plastered across his face.

"Now Geralt, maybe we can drop this?" he asked.

He only chuckled, maybe intentionally adding a sadistic tone. "You wish." His hands rested atop his stomach as he slowly began drumming his fingers. Jaskier's legs kicked out behind his back.

"Plehehease, Ihi'm sorry!" He was already lost to giggles at the gentle touch. Geralt smirked and wiggled his fingers a little deeper into the flesh. Jaskier's laugh kicked up a notch, as did the squirming. Geralt slipped his hands underneath his shirt, getting at the bare skin. Jaskier snorted and tugged at his arms.

"Shihihit! Nonono!" he squealed once he started squeezing up and down his sides, all the way down to the hips. Then he walked his fingers up each rib, scratching at the space between each one.

"Geralt please!" he managed to gasp out between laughs. Geralt just said, "Almost done."

He slowly began circling his armpit with one finger. Jaskier was already giggling like a fool.

"You cahahan't do thihis to mehe," he said even though he knew that he could and absolutely would.

"Hm, watch me," he said. He formed a claw and started scratching at the hollow. Jaskier squealed and hid his face in his arm. Geralt snickered at the reaction. He let him regain his breath for a moment.

"Can't let the other side feel left out. Then you'd be off balance," he teased, stroking his hand down his other pit. Jaskier couldn't help but squirm away.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that wohohorks! Nohohoho!" Geralt interrupted him. He dug into the muscle, alighting his nerves. No matter which way Jaskier twisted, he couldn't lose those dreaded fingers. He knew his only choice was to succumb.

Geralt backed off and let him free. Jaskier didn't bother to pull his arms down. Not even when Geralt scratched at the center. That had earned him a beautiful yelp at the feeling.

They both leaned back into the thick flowers, allowing themselves to rest knowing they were protected by the several wards Geralt had cast. Jaskier snuggled a bit closer to his side. Geralt placed a hesitant arm over his shoulder. They spent the rest of the afternoon staring at the clouds before setting up their camp for the night, and cloud gazing turned to star gazing.

#geraskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #witcher #witcher fic #the witcher tickle fic #ticklish!geralt #ticklish!jaskier

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH29

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: NSFW, of course there’s fluff (at this point, I’m just taking all the relationship fluff and throw it at you)

WC: 3374

SERIES MASTERLIST

They’re having a slow week where nothing much is happening and Dean didn’t need to go away as often as he did the week before in preparation of Operation Freedom. 

Ash’s working with the new guy Chuck, and Ash’s actually doing the majority of work since Chuck is kind of a weirdo. Dean just hopes that Ash will be able to pull it all off. Crowley’s plotting with his men and pulling his strings to get CEO’s on board as not to raise too much suspicion around the trucks and so far, it’s looking incredibly good. 

Y/N comes back from her art class, her hands full and a backpack almost as big as herself. Dean just finished preparing food when he sees her, rushes in to help. “Jesus, why didn’t you call me when you got out of the car. I could have come help. You're still not back to your full health!”

She laughs, drops both her bags at the entrance and takes off her backpack, “Relax, I’m good, I would have called when I knew I couldn’t manage. But I already walked a block to my car like that, I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry, have you met me?” He growls, but bends down to kiss her, his hand on her waist.

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay, food’s almost ready.” 

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower, alright?” 

Dean already picks up her bags and backpack, “The fuck do you have in there? A dead body?” 

She laughs as Dean walks to her art room, drops the bags all in there and goes around his task on setting the table. 

Y/N walks out when food’s ready and he places the dish into her plate. Chicken linguine with a side of greenery. He doesn’t like the greens but she does, so he kind of puts more of it on her plate, hoping she doesn’t notice.

Of course she does, grins like an idiot to which Dean only shrugs.  

They eat while she talks about her day, it’s rare that he’s the one staying at home and she goes out to face the world. There’s a teacher, Mr. Walker, who’s apparently a dick to her, but she said that Dean shouldn’t be worried because she’s been a dick to him too. So there’s that. 

The people in her class are mostly younger but apparently she gets along with the girls. They even invited her to go out partying with them and even Dean urged her to go but she doesn’t. Dean has met the girls before. Sees the bunch of them sometimes when he picks her up. When they see him, they always start to blush and giggle. 

“So,” She says, stabbing around in her food with her fork. “I went to have lunch with the girls.”

“And?” Dean swallows the chicken.

“Well, they talk a lot.”

Dean lets out a chuckle, “I can imagine.”

“And I’ve been thinking, you know, what would you say if I call you daddy?”

Dean almost drops the wine glass onto the table, the little wine he has left in his mouth went down the wrong pipe and he’s having a coughing fit. 

She grins, all cocky and he hates that.

“What?”

“I mean, in bed, obviously.”

“Well, I know what you mean but why that word?” He can’t tell her that it turns him on. Already imagines her below him, begging for him with her sweet voice, hears it in his mind. Daddy, please.

“I don’t know. The girls talked about it and I was curious. It’s new and like, we’re trying new things too sometimes, and you want me to be honest with you and tell you what I want, and I was wondering if that would be something you’d like to explore? With me?”

“Jesus,” Dean empties his glass and walks around, scoops her up from her seat and she laughs, drops the fork into her plate with a loud clatter. 

“Now?” She shrieks out.

“Duh,” He’s already halfway through the bedroom door. He had thought about pushing the plates away and taking her there but he’s not in the mood to clean up the mess after. “You can’t drop that word and then not want me to act it out now.” 

That’s true, his dick went from soft to hard in seconds while she still tried to explain why she wanted to use the word.

He drops her on the bed, pulls at her sweat pants and she helps him, taking off her shirt while he pulls at her underwear. She leans back as Dean’s trying to get rid of his own clothing and he takes a break to look at her. What a fucking beautiful sight. She’s spread on the bed, blushing a little but she grins and says, “Daddy, I’m ready.” 

  It’s a week later when Y/N’s on the couch, tending to Bubbles while Dean scrubs down the couch. Bubbles has had trouble digesting and food that’s going in, doesn’t really stay in. So she’s on the couch, comforting bubbles, wraps the cat up in a fluffy blanket and strokes the cat’s head.

“Bubbles is your cat, why am I doing this again?” Dean groans, walks back to the trash can and gets another roll of paper towels from the pantry.

“Do you wanna trade places?” She asks him, knowing that Dean is really not the cuddly type. Not with cats. It’s a whole different story with her, though. 

“She wouldn’t want to be in my arms anyway,” Dean mumbles, proceeds to spray some cleaning spray on the leather sofa. 

That’s true. Bubbles doesn’t like Dean that much. Y/N thinks it’s something psychological. Maybe Bubbles had been mistreated by big grumpy men. 

They called the vet but he said that they should wait another night to see if Bubbles might get better on its own. So far, no luck.

“‘Kay,” Dean says, stands up and walks over to the kitchen, drops things into the trash. “I need to take a shower and I’ll be out. Will you guys be okay?” 

He’s standing at the back of the couch, hovering above her now and she looks up, sees him upside down in her vision. “Are you asking me or the cats?”

“Both,” He says, leans down and kisses her forehead. “If you want, I can stay.” 

She laughs, “You’re only saying it because you don’t wanna go.”

Dean lowers himself on his knees, braces his arms on the sofa next to her head. “I really don’t wanna.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Come with me. I’ll call Cas to take care of the cats.” 

The thought of Cas taking care of cats while he sneezes is indeed a funny image, but no, she’s not leaving Bubbles alone. What if something happens. “You’re a big grumpy boy that everyone fears. It’s not your first social gathering, Dean.”

He’s been invited to another social function by Crowley and she was invited too, but since Bubbles’ not feeling well, she decided to stay home. 

“No,” He says, “But it’s the first one in weeks without you. Who will I finger under the table? Who can I escape to the bathroom to have a quickie with?” Dean drops his head and she threads her hand through his hair, leaning her forehead against his scruff. 

“Awe, poor you. I’m sure you’ll find someone. Just, refrain from fingering Crowley, please.”

Dean chuckles, looks up and kisses her temple before he pushes himself up completely. “I can’t promise that.”

 *

 Dean finishes showering and comes out of the bedroom looking like a full course meal which, in retrospect, makes her regret not going with him. 

“That’s not fair,” She lays Bubbles down on the sofa and walks over, she’s still dressed in her sleep shirt and underwear, it’s been a long night and after showering she just slipped the shirt back on. They didn’t do anything other than lounging around today anyway.

He’s standing there, perplexed and then proceeds to crouch down to lace up his shoes. Getting back up again he raises an eyebrow. “What’s not fair?”

She fists his suit jacket and looks up at him while he strokes her arm. “That you look so yummy and I have to stay here.”

“Yummy?” He laughs.

“Like a meal, I could eat you alive.”

Dean turns her around, pushes her against the wall, their noses touch and she grabs his biceps. They’re hard and firm under his suit jacket. His hands roam around, touch her thighs, her ass. “It’s not fucking fair to me either. You always look yummy in my shirt.”

He kisses her then while his hands knead her flesh. My god, she forgets how quick it can build up between them. She’s wet already and he knows because he’s rubbing her through her panties. 

“Fuck, come on,” Dean parts from her, crouches down and pulls her underwear down. “Just a taste before I have to go.” 

“Dean, no.” 

“Dean, yes.” He grins, all bravado and fucking cocky and how can she say no to that?

He noses at her folds, his hands on her thighs, spreading them wider before throwing one leg over his shoulder. And there it is, his talented tongue that can tickle and push at all the right buttons at the right time. One of his hands comes up, slips underneath her shirt and toys with her tits, squeezing and kneading, twisting her nipples, making her arch her back and push her pussy against his face. Her hands found his head, and she tries, really tries not to make a mess of his hair but she just can’t hold herself back. 

“Shit, Dean, yeah right there, right there, don’t stop,” She’s panting by now, can let herself fall so easily when she’s with him. 

He takes it as a clue, sucks and nibbles harder and he pulls him closer, grinding herself on his face as he pushes her over the edge. 

Dean’s still licking at her lazily, slurps up her cum before he places one last soft kiss on the hood of her clit and stands up. He kisses her after, letting her taste herself on his tongue. 

“You always come so quick, it baffles me every time.” 

“Only because it’s you.” She smiles and her hands go down, palms his dick through his pants, realizes that it’s hard. 

“Baby, I really need to go.” He whines, but it’s not like he wants to go at all.

“How long til you really have to leave?” She asks, still stroking at him through the thin fabric and his breathing picks up. 

“I should have left ten minutes ago.”

“Good, what’s a couple of minutes more, right?” She shrugs and winks before she lowers herself, her hands working on his belt buckle. 

“Baby,” Dean tries to say but didn’t get any further, it’s like he’s given up on being the reasonable one around here. Instead, he bites on his lips and watches her pull down his zipper and pushes his pants past his knees.

Y/N places open mouthed kisses on his bulge through his underwear, makes him groan out and closes his eyes briefly. She hooks her fingers into his underwear, pulling them down, making his hard cock spring free, and it almost hits her cheeks in the process and she grins, her mouth is watering at the sight.

She pushes his underwear past his knees too, looks up again and places a kiss on the tip of his cock. It’s already leaking. Then, she holds his hard dick in her hand, pushes it out of the way to lick and suck at his balls. Dean braces one hand on the wall. 

Coming up again, she holds his cock firm in her hands now. It’s hot and heavy in her grip. She wraps her mouth around the tip, hollows out her mouth to suck while she goes deeper, and she strokes the rest of him in the same motion her face makes. 

“Look up, baby, look at me.” His breathing is heavy and she can sense that he’s holding himself back from fucking her face. She doesn’t know why because she wouldn’t mind and she told him that already but still, he wouldn’t do it. 

“So fucking pretty.” Dean growls above her. 

Y/N lets herself come up for air, strokes his now wet dick when she looks up at him. “I want you to help me get it deeper, Dean.” 

“No.” It comes out too quick, he doesn’t even need to think about it.

“Please?” She begs, it comes out whiny, she doesn’t care. “You don’t have to fuck my face, just help me get it deeper.”

“God dammit,” Dean curses but places the hand that’s not bracing himself on the wall on the back of her head, “Ok, but tap out, alright?” 

She nods as she opens her mouth to take him in, braces her hand on both his thighs. 

“Look at me.”

She does, at least at the beginning. When she can’t take him any further, Dean’s pulling her closer by the back of her head. 

“Open up a little more,” He says and she tries, stretching out her mouth as far as it can go. 

“That’s good, now, try to relax your throat, stick your tongue out a little too.” 

It’s hard to do it, she gags a little but it’s still tolerable. 

Dean’s hand pulls her in, and she flinches as his cock goes deeper.

“Jesus,” His voice sounds strained. “More?”

She looks up at him with a look that says so much as How the fuck can I answer you?

“You didn’t tap so I take it as a yes. Hard to talk with your mouth full of my cock, isn’t it?” He’s grinning at his own comment, “Breathe baby, don’t forget to breathe. My god, you looks so fucking good. Such a good girl.” 

He applies more pressure at the back of her head, making her take him a little more and it goes in until she feels him at the back of her throat, a place he’s never been before and there’s the gagging and she feels like she’s running out of air. 

Dean let’s go of her head, lets her come up and there’s a string of thick saliva that attaches her mouth to the tip of his dick. She massages it in, strokes him with both her hands as she looks up at him with teary eyes and a smile on her face. 

“Keep on stroking, baby.” He says and she knows by the way he’s panting and the way his dick twitches slightly in her grip, that he’s close. “Open that mouth of yours, show me your tongue.”

Y/N does, rests the tip of his cock on her tongue and strokes the rest of him. 

“Christ,” Dean breathes in, holding his breath as he comes. It’s warm and it feels heavy on her tongue. “Look at me, stick that tongue out.” He thumbs at her tongue, whispers “Beautiful,” before he pushes his cum to the back of her mouth with that thumb and she seals her lips around it, swallowing his cum in the process. 

She smiles after, licking and sucking at his spent cock, cleans him up so he would be ready to go before she brushes at her own mouth with the back of her hand. 

Dean pulls his underwear and pants back up, dresses himself properly again and she stands up. He kisses her then, tasting himself on her, which makes him moan out. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“You too.” 

“How do I look?” He asks, and there’s a perfect mirror next to them but he doesn’t even want to look in there, would believe everything she says. 

Her hands go up to his hair, brushes some strands and lays them down perfectly in place. “You look great.”

“So do you,” He smiles, steals a kiss before he walks to the door. “Will you be awake when I get back?”

“I can try.”

“Try harder. Okay, be good.”

“Always.”

 *

 After she showered off the stickiness and laid herself back on the couch to look after Bubbles, her phone vibrates. It’s a text from an unknown number.

AK: Hi, I’m Ketch. I got your number from Linda. Can I call you? 

She rolls her eyes at that. 

Y/N: It’s not a good time to talk.

She lies. Mostly because she’s not in the mood to talk to that guy.

AK: No problem. Can we meet? I’m in town. Tomorrow 2PM at the café on the 7th Street okay for you?

How can someone be so blunt?

Y/N: I’m being watched. I don’t think I can come up with something to meet you.

AK: I’m your cousin from England. Just a little talk. See how things are going. Catching up. No strings attached. 

Y/N: Did Linda set you up with this?

AK: She didn’t. I’m just bored since we can’t get me into it, so I might as well listen to you talk about it. It doesn’t have to be long. An hour? Please?

Y/N: Fine. Don’t contact me again. I’m deleting and blocking your number.

AK: Deal.

She does. Deletes the conversation and blocks his number. How dare Linda. She’s gonna hear from Y/N for sure.

  Dean gets into the apartment quietly. He slips out of his shoes, walks in on socked feet and sees the screen on the TV asking if the viewer is still watching. Apparently, she is not. 

He walks closer, peeks over the edge of the sofa to find Y/N curled up on her side, the blanket with Bubbles next to her and she has a protective arm around the fur baby. Cuddles is lying at her feet. The older cat sees Dean, acknowledges him, but doesn’t really pay Dean any attention like he always does. Cuddle’s probably worried about his new friend and his mommy. Because that’s it. She’s Cuddles mommy now and Dean thinks that the cat accepts her better than he ever did accept him. For all Dean knows, Cuddles just tolerates Dean because Dean is mommy’s friend. Even though Dean’s been here first.

For reasons unknown to him, she gave the new cat its new name and Dean couldn’t even say anything, even though Bubbles wouldn’t have been his first choice. If it would have ever been his choice at all. Yeah, no, it definitely wouldn’t. 

He goes into the bedroom, showers off the night and slips into his favorite pj pants. He now has several of them. All courtesy to her. His favorite though, is still the first one she bought him. It has ugly cats on it and Dean first said that he wouldn’t wear them but here he is. 

Walking out, he goes to the fridge and empties a bottle of water. He didn’t drink that much but he’s better safe than sorry. That’s also a thing from the past. The need for him to drink has declined significantly since she’s living with him. He doesn’t miss it at all. 

Dean walks over to the sofa after, scoops her up in his arms and walks her over to their bedroom. She wakes up, “Whatchu doin’?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Getting you to bed.”

“But Bubbles,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get her next.”

“And Cuddles,”

“He can join too.”

“Good,” She says and is almost slipping away already.

Dean makes his rounds, picks up the two cats and places them on the bed next to her and climbs in on the other side, spooning her from behind and breathes in her scent from the crook of her neck. 

She turns around a little and Dean lays his head on her chest, it’s her left side, her right one still hurts sometimes. 

“How was it?” She whispers, but her voice is full of sleep. 

“Boring,” 

“You fingered anyone?” 

“I sat between Crowley and Cas.”

“Ah, poor you.”

“Yeah,”

“Good night, Dean.” It’s barely a whisper.

“Night, baby.” 

He lies there, listening.

It’s a faint thud. A beat that slows down with every breath she takes. 

Sometimes, Dean thinks, sometimes, home has a heartbeat.

CH30

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

[theladyofdeath]

Wanderer {2}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction. Elain x Azriel. Modern AU.

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They stared at one another, the world going still around them. It was a bright and sunny day, the weather warm as Azriel stood in front of his car, his stuff loaded. He had come to pick up Elain, but she stood in her front yard, hands empty.

It seemed like hours had passed since she said the words.

But it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes - seconds, even.

“I don’t understand,” Azriel said, at last, completely caught off guard.

“I’m not going,” she repeated, begging her voice not to break.

“You’re not going,” he said, slowly, attempting to register the words. “What the fuck do you mean you’re not going? Elain, we’ve been planning this all year, and now you’re telling me...that you’re not going?”

“No,” she breathed. “I’m not.”

Azriel hesitated. “And why the fuck not?”

He never swore like this around her, never used such language, never had such anger in his voice. It broke her heart.

Everything about the situation broke her heart.

But her father was sick. He had told Elain the night before that they found cancer, that it was spreading, that it didn’t look good. Nesta was away at school in the north, and Feyre...she deserved better, had dreams of going to art school next year. 

Elain had offered to stay, to help, to take care of him.

Even if it meant giving up her own plans of going to Adriata, to university, with Azriel. She loved him, of course, as much as she thought she could love someone. 

But she loved her father, her family, too.

“If you’re staying, then so am I,” he said, with that stubborn crease between his brows. 

“No,” Elain breathed, the word hardly coming out.

Azriel stilled. “Why?”

The word was hard, cold, and Elain knew that what she was about to say, what she had to say to make him leave, would be her ruin.

“I don’t want to be with you anymore,” she said, hardly more than a whisper. “I don’t want you here.”

Azriel said nothing. He watched her, jaw locked, as tears streamed down her face. Then, he let out a loud, humorless laugh. “Wow.”

“Just go,” she begged.

“I..” his words trailed off as he shook his head. “Damn it, Elain! Was this your plan, then? I was just some high school fling, someone to warm your bed until graduation came? Until summer ended? Huh?”

No, she wanted to scream, but instead she said, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he spat, raking his hands through his messy, dark hair. But then, the tension in his shoulders faded. “Elain, I fucking love you, okay? I love you, don’t do this, come with me. Come with me, yeah? Come with me, Elain.”

A sob broke loose, shaking her frail frame. “I...I can’t.”

His voice was quiet as he asked, “Don’t you love me?”

“No,” she said, having to force the word out. “I never loved you.”

That silence returned, nothing to be heard except for Elain’s soft sobs.

“Fuck you,” he breathed, and when she met his gaze, it was a whirlwind of shadows and pain. Broken. He was completely, utterly broken. “I should’ve known. Someone like you with someone like me?” He laughed, loudly, horridly. “What a fucking joke.”

She wanted to tell him how perfect he was, how much she adored him, but couldn’t, wouldn’t.

Instead, she said, with dry eyes, “Exactly. Goodbye, Azriel.”

She turned her back to him and walked away, back up to her house.

She forced herself not to look back.

Then, he left.

~~~~~

“Be good for Aunt Feyre and I’ll come get you in a little bit, okay?”

Amelia nodded, jumping into her mother’s arms for one last hug. 

“We’re gonna go see Uncle Rhys at work,” Amelia said, excitedly.

“Is that so?” Elain asked, looking over at Feyre.

“We’re just going for a little ride on the water,” Feyre grinned. “And maybe get some ice cream.”

“Yes!” Amelia yelled, jumping in the air with her arms raised.

Rhysand owned a little boat shop on the docks. He took Amelia on one of the many boats from time to time, and she loved it. Mostly because ice cream was always involved. And for a six year old, ice cream was a staple.

“Alright,” Elain mumbled. “Well, eat dinner first.”

Feyre rolled her eyes as Amelia said, “Mooooom.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I suck the fun out of everything,” Elain laughed, walking to the door and turning the open sign around so that it read closed.

“That’s our que,” Feyre sang, taking Amelia’s hand. “Have fun. But not too much fun.”

Elain blushed furiously. “Yeah, okay, thanks.”

“Bye mama,” Amelia said, as she walked out of the door with Feyre.

“Bye, my love,” Elain said, eyes soft as she watched them walk away. 

She assumed Azriel would be arriving soon so she had to finish closing up the shop before he did. It had been a slow day, both with customers and time. The time seemed to drag on and on, each second passing with a ridiculous amount of anxiety fluttering in the pit of Elain’s stomach. She had picked up her phone ten times throughout the day to text Feyre, asking for Azriel’s number so that she could cancel. But she didn’t, because if she did, she would just criticize herself for being a wimp. 

She needed to talk things out with Azriel, as much as the thought terrified her. There had never been closure, and she needed closure, they both deserved as much. For the sake of their group of friends, they needed that closure. Now that he was back, Elain needed to be able to be around Azriel with no awkward tension.

Even so, by the time Elain had closed up her shop, she felt the need to vomit.

It didn’t help when she spotted Azriel, standing outside of her shop, leaning against the hood of his jeep, smoking a cigarette. 

He spotted her watching him through the front glass and smiled, softly. She held up a finger, letting him know she would only be a second more. After hurrying to the back room, she grabbed her purse and looked into the long, distorted mirror on the wall.

Good enough.

After a few deep breaths, Elain was turning off the lights and exiting her shop. With her key, she turned the lock then spun around to face Azriel, who was watching her curiously.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hey,” he said, taking the cigarette from between his teeth. “Sorry,” he said, a small smile on his plump lips as he put out his cigarette. “I know you don’t like the smoke.”

She hadn’t, even when they were in high school. He was always sure to put it out the moment she came into view. 

“Bad habit,” she said, eyes bright.

Azriel laughed, quietly. “True.”

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded, and held out his arm, gesturing for her to lead the way. They walked down to the end of the block where the crosswalk was and went across the street to the little coffee house across from her shop. They both ordered before finding a little table near the corner window and sitting across from one another.

A thousand different small-talk questions raced through Elain’s mind, but none of them seemed good enough, so she was glad when Azriel began with, “I didn’t think you’d agree to come with me, I have to be honest.”

Elain stilled. “Why not?”

Azriel gave her a knowing look, but cleared his throat before he said, “Let’s not pretend like we don’t have a history.”

The words were not cruel, and his tone was light, but the words still made Elain’s chest ache.

But she nodded. “Fair enough. But that was so long ago. We were only kids, then.”

Azriel nodded, slowly. “True. A lot has happened since, it seems.” 

“I would like to hear about it,” Elain said, propping her chin in her hands. “All that’s happened.”

Azriel’s grin widened, although his lips remained pressed together. Elain could count on one hand how many times through the years she had seen Azriel’s teeth when he smiled...all of those times being when they were alone. It was a rare thing, to see a full-fledged, teeth-bearing grin from Azriel.

She remembered it being the most beautiful of sights. 

“Well,” he began, sheepishly, “I, uh, graduated, obviously. Found a job in journalism, fairly quickly, which surprised a shit ton of people - myself, included.” Elain chuckled as Azriel went on, “Other than that, I must say, I haven’t been all that exciting. Uh, lived in a nice apartment, near the beach in Adriata. Made a few friends, I guess. Dated a little, nothing that worked out. Mostly I just did a ton of writing. I actually just got my first book published, so...we will see.”

“I heard about that,” Elain said. “And that’s incredible, you deserve it. You’re a beautiful writer, always have been. I was waiting for it to be released so that I could be one of your first of many customers.” 

She could remember the countless nights they laid together, tangled in the sheets, Azriel reading to her from his notebook of drabbles and poetry. 

“I don’t know about many,” Azriel said, modestly. “But, hopefully some people out there will enjoy it.”

“It’ll be a hit,” Elain said, meeting his bright gaze, “I know it.”

Azriel cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. He had never been one for compliments. To his pleasure, a waitress came with a black coffee for Azriel, and a caramel mocha latte for Elain. 

“Enough about me, though,” Azriel said, fiddling with the handle of his mug. “How about you?”

Elain had no idea where to begin. Her life the past few years had been a roller coaster. “Well, I’m sure you know I married Graysen,” Elain began, staring at the top of her coffee. “We got divorced two years later, but I can’t be too mad because he gave me Amelia, and she’s incredible.”

She decided to leave out the part where Graysen cheated, and that was why they had divorced in the first place. She also decided to leave out the part where he moved to the other side of the continent, not caring that it meant he wouldn’t be a part of his child’s life.

When Elain looked back up at Azriel, though, he was watching her with that same little smile. “I’ve seen pictures of her, your daughter. She’s beautiful. Looks just like you.”

Elain nodded, her smile widening. “Yeah, she’s a great kid.” 

“And does she play?”

Elain couldn’t help but laugh. “No. But, I haven’t played since before she’s been born, either.”

She used to play piano, used to be good at it, too. But that had been long ago. “I see you finally got your shop,” Azriel said, then, gesturing across the street. “Looks like you’re doing good there.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been open for long, but it’s been going well,” she agreed. 

“That was the dream,” he noted. “You always wanted to brighten the world with your flowers.”

Elain could feel herself blushing as she took a sip from her mug. “And you wanted to write. Looks like we both got what we wanted.” 

“Yeah,” Azriel said, quietly, but his smile had faltered, his eyes remaining locked in hers. “I have a box of copies, of my book, if you want to read it. I mean, I’m technically not supposed to give them out yet, but I gave everyone else one.”

Elain huffed a laugh.

“No pressure,” Azriel followed, quickly. “I mean, I won’t be upset if-”

“I’d love to,” Elain said, smiling brightly. “Absolutely.”

“Great,” he said, and left it at that as he pressed his cooling coffee mug to his lips. 

They only made short talk after that. She asked him about his years in Adriata, about the university and his favorite parts of the city. He asked more about Amelia, and Elain was happy to share all the little facts and details about her little beauty. They sat there until their coffee was gone, and then some, until the sky outside had turned dark.

After they decided they’d occupied the table at the coffee house long enough, they decided to take a walk along the Sidra.

They kept a healthy distance apart. Not too much distance, close enough to show everyone else that they were familiar with one another, but they didn’t stand so close that those who passed them thought they were too familiar with one another.

Even if Elain wondered what closing that distance would be like, after all those years.

“So he just left, huh?” Azriel said, hands shoved into his pockets as the breeze coming off the SIdra blew at his dark hair. 

Elain nodded, arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah. Doesn’t call, doesn’t write. Likes a picture of her every now and then on social media and sends her a gift for her birthday, but...other than that, we haven’t seen or heard from him in three years. She’s okay with it though, you know? She was so young when he left that Millie doesn’t remember much of him.”

“It seems you two have a great relationship,” Azriel said. 

“We do,” Elain agreed. “She does with my sisters, too.”

“I’m sure,” Azriel smiled, stopping to look out over the water. “Still, I’m sorry you had to go through that with Graysen. He’s a prick for leaving.” 

Elain sucked on her bottom lip as she followed Azriel’s gaze, to the slow, flowing water of the river. Her smile was gone. “Look, Azriel, the way we left things…”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do,” she breathed, and turned to face him. “Azriel…”

“Please,” he said, and when he met her gaze, his eyes were full of shadows. “I left, that’s the end of it, let’s move on.”

“Move on?” she asked, incredulously. “Az, we’ve been moving on for nearly a decade. Don’t you think-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered. 

“Well, I do!” she said, voice rising, then looked around to make sure she wasn’t causing a scene. In a quieter voice she said, “I do.”

Azriel’s jaw locked as he stared at her for a long moment. “Fine.”

“I just…” she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry for that day.”

He watched her for a long time before he said, “I’m sorry about your dad. He was a good guy.”

He had died a year after Azriel had gone away.

“He needed me,” she breathed. 

“I know,” Azriel said, plainly.

Elain looked down at her feet. “The things that I said though, Az...I didn’t mean them.”

He said nothing, and Elain didn’t want to meet his gaze. At last, he said, “We both said things we grew to regret.”

“I wanted to go with you-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azriel interrupted, then took a deep breath. “Not anymore.”

Elain nodded, and they fell into a tense, uncomfortable silence. There were a million things she wanted to say, had thought of what she would say to him for years if she got him alone, but none of them seemed to come out now, none except for I’m sorry. 

“I should have told you the truth all those years ago,” Elain said. 

“I found out later,” Azriel said.

“I know,” she breathed. “But...I thought that if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t go. If I told you that I had to stay to take care of my dad, I thought that you’d stay with me.”

“And that was such a bad thing?” Azriel asked, but there was no bite to his voice.

“I wanted nothing more,” Elain answered, honestly. “But you deserved to go the University of Adriata, Az, it was your dream school and I wasn’t going to stand in the way of that.”

“So you made me hate you, instead,” Azriel said.

The words hurt worse than Elain had expected them to. “Yes.”

Azriel nodded, slowly, watching her. “It didn’t work.”

“What didn’t?” she asked, quietly.

“I never hated you,” he whispered, eyes soft. “I could never hate you. I was pissed, but there was never any hatred.” 

“Well, don’t worry, I hated myself enough for us both,” Elain said.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said, honestly. “All of it.”

Elain nodded, then looked back out over the Sidra. “Well, I, um, should be getting Millie. It’s getting late.”

Azriel didn’t even question it, he simply walked her back to her car and she drove away after a casual goodbye.

Eight years it had been since she had seen him, standing in her driveway, telling him he wasn’t good enough to be loved by her. The words still haunted her, but she couldn’t regret it. He had gone away, went to his dream school, is getting published. 

She looked over in her passenger seat, where his book sat, the copy he’d gotten for her out of his Jeep.

Part of her couldn't wait to read it.

The other was terrified of what was inside. 

The thoughts of the man she had told wasn’t good enough.

The title of the novel was, Somewhere in the Void.

~~~~

Tag list (to be tagged, comment or send an ask! - if you want to be removed, I won’t be offended, just let me know! - I am using a general tag list for all my multi-chapters from now on so i don’t get so confused lol):

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#elriel #elain #azriel #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #modern au

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Eight

Ao3,  Masterpost,  C.1   C.2   C.3   C.4   C.5   C.6   C.7

Relationships: queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships.

Second chapter of the night, babe! I’m really going for it with finishing this story!! mostly no italics as is my usual, because tumblr Sucks <3 

Warnings: cursing, brief true-crime talk, sexual innuendo, depressive episodes, crying, LOTS of h/c, mentions of past neglect (ok neglect is a really strong word it isn’t that bad, but, idk what to call it), touch-starvation, honestly though this is a ridiculously fluffy chapter guys. 

Word count: 5,618

In three weeks, Patton and Remus had gone from borderline insomnia to a sleep schedule that could’ve impressed even Logan. 

And in three weeks, neither had spent a single night alone.

The talk they’d had after their first sleepover ended up leaving more of an impact than either had realized. Maybe it should’ve been expected: they were both accustomed to saying exactly what they meant, exactly how they meant it, and any sort of vow to ‘never let go’ couldn’t be used lightly for two creatures like that. 

So, independently, they both decided to be as literal as they could about it. God, were they clingy.

But it worked better than anything. There was less aching, more talking, and if they were feeling better, the whole Mindpalace improved. Something something, the delicate ecosystem of the human mind, blah blah. 

And then it worked too well. 

Neither of them really knew what had happened, or how to feel about it (it might have been sad or strange that neither had ever had anything to compare it to, but if asked, they’d both say that’s what made it so special. They’d be right to say so, of course). It was what they had, together.

It wasn’t romantic- they’d seen romantic, knew it as well as they could, didn’t care for it. But in the end who cared about semantics? It didn’t matter, the reasons why Patton stared after his friend for a little too long, or what was making it so hard for Remus not to kiss his pal smack on the lips every time he smiled. Another thing that didn’t matter was the why in response to how they still hadn’t talked about it, but… Patton and Remus had resolved that as a problem for another time.

What mattered was that it just was.

(And another thing that mattered, a little bit, was the how it had happened, and both of them understood that perfectly well.)

Remus lounged on the floor at the foot of his bed, Patton behind and above him. Patton’s fingers were working steadily through his mess of hair, while the pair half-watched TV. They didn’t agree on most shows, and neither of them were especially crazy about arguing, which meant it was twenty minutes of roundabout conversation until they stumbled across something they could mutually zone out to. Whatever. The system worked.

Remus typically preoccupied himself with drawing, painting, or carving some material into something or other (said something-or-other was almost always a knife or a dildo. Occasionally, it was both). 

Patton seemed to favor being distracted by Remus’ hair, though it wasn’t clear why. Remus hadn’t asked; it felt nice, and he was surprised that anyone would actually want to thread their fingers through those oily strings, so why question a good thing? 

Actually, a better question was why not. The thought had stuck in his mind, and he had nothing better to do- art block and all- so. Remus tossed his sketchbook to the side and twisted up to look at Patton.

“Why do you do that?”

Patton glanced down at him. “Do what?”

Remus reached up, prying Patton’s hands out of his hair and holding them up like evidence. Patton blinked at them, and okay, cute- but he looked genuinely surprised by the question. 

“Oh, playing with your hair? I mean, there’s no real reason, I guess it’s just mindless. Something to fidget with, y’know? It’s always all tangled up, too, so it’s like a little puzzle- a puzzle I probably won’t solve all the way ever, but that’s most puzzles with me to be honest,” he smiled brightly, creasing all his laugh lines just right. “Also, um, it feels nice that I get to stay touching you, even if it’s just something small,” he shrugged, sort of sheepishly. “Is that weird?”

But Remus was beaming up at him, definitely looking all sorts of stupid for it, and definitely not caring. He dropped Patton’s hands, letting them find their way back into his coils and matts of hair. 

“You’re asking the wrong guy, Sugar Cookie, but you can keep messing with my hair all you want. It probably is weird, in that case, because I like that you have your hands on me so much-” Jesus Christ it was so hard not to make a sex joke, Remus had to stifle several from breaking his train of thought. Ugh, the things he did for this man. “-And if I like something, it’s 100% freaky!”

Patton just laughed, his nose scrunching up while he ruffled Remus’ hair. 

“That’s- that’s good to know,” an index finger coiled around silver strands, and Patton’s eyes sparkled in the most literal sense, “Hey, Remus?”

Remus let his head rest on the side’s thigh, humming attentively. 

“When you say I can mess with it…”

He looked up with a delightful anticipation, grinning before Patton had even finished his sentence. 

“Can I braid your hair?” The question accompanied by a faint tug at Remus’ scalp, and the feeling of several tangles coming undone, “I’m pretty good at it. Virgil used to let me do his- not so much anymore, but, um. Anyway, yours would be long enough- or maybe longer, if I got these knots out,” he smiled, kindly, “But I know you like having it knotty, so it’s okay if you don’t want me to.”

Remus thought it over, because yeah, he was very proud of his rat’s nest. Besides, he was sure that even if it got straightened out, it’d still be just as greasy as ever- ohh, but that could be a look all on its own, couldn’t it? Maybe he could even weave some garbage into the plait! 

“Sure!” Remus assented, “The rest of me’s naughty enough to make up for the hairdo, so have at ‘er.”

Patton snorted at the pun, obviously excited to get started. When he ushered Remus to turn around, his hands easily undoing clumps of hair with surprising focus, humming to himself all the while, Remus was absolutely certain he’d made the right choice.

It was done in an hour- Patton was slow and careful about every movement. Remus didn’t really mind, though he’d try to assure Patton that it was fine to do it in a hurry, that he wasn’t so sensitive. (Patton didn’t, obviously, ignoring Remus’ comments about how it didn’t even matter because they weren’t real, and pain was a construct. Patton was stubbornly gentle, to the point that Remus couldn’t be annoyed by it. He might even say it was sweet, if he was feeling particularly sappy.)

It had also taken such time because of the decorations Patton had woven into his hair, which he insisted would be surprises. So Remus was bouncing with excitement all the way to the mirror- cuz even though he was sure it wouldn’t be anything like the live bugs, weeds, and dead flowers that he’d had in mind to thread in there himself, he knew it’d at least be pretty. Pretty wasn’t really his thing, sure, but Patton’s brand of pretty? It had grown on him.

The mirror in Remus’ room was chipped, slick with grime, and filled with silhouettes that vanished as soon as you turned around, but it worked just fine. Remus hauled himself over to it, peered in, and okay, he definitely didn’t mind a little bit of pretty.

“You weren’t fucking around when you said you were good at this, Morey!”

In their reflections, Remus saw Patton smile, going a bit pink around the ears. He glanced back to himself, eyes trailing appreciatively down the shoulder-length braid of dark, greasy hair. His grey streak wasn’t twisted in with the rest of the locks, instead it had been left out in front, springy and curly and giving the whole look a messier vibe. The braid itself seemed inky-slick, shot through with glittering hair clips and pins. At first, they looked like plain plastic jewels, but with closer inspection the shapes of tiny beetles, bugs, and moths were unmistakable. They were gorgeous, and probably a better call than putting actual live bugs in his hair; he was less likely to end up eating the sparkly clips, at any rate.

But if all that wasn’t enough, then there were the ribbons. Whip-thin and several in number, they sparkled with enough course glitter to impress a Las Vegas body paint artist. Some were a pukey neon green, and the rest a light, bright-

“Blue?”

Patton met Remus’ eyes, through the mirror again, and the pink slowly traveled from his ears down to his face. He shrugged, grazing the blue-and-green bow where the braid was tied off with the tips of his fingers. 

“I guess I got a little carried away,” he smiled lightly, “I thought it looked nice, with the green.”

Remus looked away from the glass, “You’re not wrong about that,” he muttered.

Patton shrugged, not quite making his eyes. 

“You can take those ones out, if you want to.”

That- the way Patton went flustered and shy and he’d put his colors on Remus- it gave the Duke a very strong urge to do something. The urge pulled at his chest, feeling like cracked ribs in the best way, and it really wasn’t fucking around when it wrapped around his heart and squeezed so tight it felt like it was forcing all the blood right out of him. 

Remus was used to impulses, and the powerful, mind-halting swells of emotion, but this was new and fun and it had jumped out of nowhere even for him. He was staring at Patton, and he had the urge to do something. He would’ve done it, too, if only he knew what the fuck it was that he wanted. 

It had to do with Patton. He should start there, probably.

“I’m gonna keep them in, duh,” Remus replied, finally, and his voice was way louder than it needed to be, “Wouldn’t wanna fuck up the look.” 

Patton glanced at him, smiling self-consciously, and his hand lowered from Remus’ hair to rest on his shoulder. For a moment Remus felt blind, vision white-out and trouble breathing, from whatever the fuck he was feeling, and he just didn’t know what to do.

Then Patton laughed, his ocean eyes squinted, and the burning impulse plummeted to an ache. A giddy, unfamiliar kind of ache. A manageable ache. 

Remus resolved to forget it. He had lots of instincts, and urges, and God knew that not even half of them made sense. It had left, that was what mattered, and he could enjoy the rest of his day with his friend.

He’d never been the type to worry, anyway.

There were days that Patton just… couldn’t make it out of bed. He tried, he really did, but he could only go for so long before it all started crumbling. He’d wake up, and something would just feel wrong, and he’d know that it was a doomed day, but he still made the stubborn effort to save it. Because each time he thought, maybe he’d beat it, maybe he’d make the best of it- and sometimes he did, but most of the time he made it as far as breakfast, and then he was right back in his room by noon to let the depressive episode take over.

So yeah. It was one of Those Days. 

Patton laid in bed, propped up on pillows and stuffed animals with his unfocused eyes staring just above the television. Bad days had been getting rare, and naively, Patton had thought that meant it was over for good. When he woke up that morning, Remus barely stirring beside him, the empty feeling inside was almost ignorable. 

He’d stayed above it for all of two-and-a-half hours before retreating to his room again, this time on his own.

Patton was always alone when he got in one of his moods, and he knew it was better that way. He was no fun at all, just a sad sack of blah, and he knew just how intolerable he ended up being. He couldn’t even tolerate himself.

So each time Patton would tell the other sides that he needed some space alone, and of course they respected that. Roman always hugged him before he left. Virgil checked on him every now and then. Logan, without fail, sent him extra plushies (and sweet snacks, however much he disapproved of unhealthy eating, because he knew how much sugar cheered Patton up). It didn’t fix the ache, but it helped, knowing that people were worried about him. 

But, back to that particular day; the day that left Patton huddled up at the head of his bed with blank, glazed-over eyes; the first day of its kind since Remus had been staying with him. 

It had gotten… harder, somehow. The fact that it had been gone for so long, and he’d been so optimistic, but now it was all back… 

Patton buried his face in the soft fabric of a teddy bear, shaking and crying and feeling so, so, cold.

It went on for a few horrible, horrible minutes, and then there were noises that definitely weren’t sobs. Down the hall; the slamming of a door, followed by distant muttering, and then excited footsteps. Heavy, clunky footsteps. Sounds that brought back acute deja vu, and had Patton glancing up just in time to realize what was about to happen. 

His door swung open, and Remus was grinning at him from the entrance. Patton struggled to put on a smile in time, scrubbing frantically at his eyes. 

“Hey! It’s, like, two o’clock, are you ready?”

Patton blinked up at him, partially in confusion, partially to try and stop the flow of tears. “Ready…?” 

Remus’ face fell a little, and he came forwards into the room. 

“Yeah…” Remus shut the door behind him- with less force than usual- and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. He stared intently at Patton, frown deepening all the while, pupils flitting around as he seemed to take in every detail of his friend’s condition. Patton wanted to squirm. “We were gonna- are you okay?” 

He stared dumbly at Remus for a second more, and then it clicked: they had plans today. He could barely remember what they were supposed to do- they’d been talking so quick, so excited, so happy- but Patton was pretty sure it had to do with a new creation of Remus’. 

Which was… something he definitely, definitely didn’t have the energy for. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Patton sat up straight, trying desperately to stop trembling, “I completely forgot, I just- um- I don’t know if I can make it today.”

That sounded bad, didn’t it? Wouldn’t that be the icing on top of the cake, if he hurt Remus’ feelings just because he was wallowing for basically no reason. It probably wouldn’t even be that bad if he sucked it up and went along with it anyway- except Janus kept insisting how bad self-sacrifice was, but- what else was he supposed to do!?

“Oh, it’s okay,” Remus said, not sounding hurt at all. “I’d be more pissed if I thought you were just bailing, and I know you don’t do that, Pat. Plus, you’re obviously upset, so don’t worry about it.”

  Patton glanced up to find him still staring, somehow more intense than before, and much closer than before. He looked- he looked worried. Not upset. Worried. 

“Oh,” Patton looked away again, unable to stand the scrutiny, “Okay.” 

A hand slipped into his, prying open his clenched fist, and he had to stifle a gasp at the touch. Temperature shock, that was the best word for it. Patton shivered. 

“Can I help you?”

Patton’s eyes went wide at the sweet sincerity in Remus’ voice, the way he said it as plainly and openly as he’d say anything else. Even if it wasn’t a big deal, really, with Patton’s emotions in the state that they were, while he was in his room of all places, anything could send him breaking down again.

“I- I don’t, um-” he blinked furiously, had done that a lot since Remus found him; it was beginning to make him feel dizzy. “Nothing’s really wrong…” 

Remus squeezed his hand. 

“Well, what isn’t really wrong?” 

“What?”

“You said nothing’s ‘really’ wrong, so, what’s wrong-but-not-really?”

Patton tipped his head to the side, for a moment more confused than he was aching. “How do you mean?”

But Remus just rolled his eyes- not unkindly- and shrugged. 

“So, you don’t know why you’re all… sad,” the emphasis made Patton wince, “But I figure that being sad at all usually makes other things wrong, too, and I can help with those things! For example-” he pitched forwards suddenly, ruby-reds wide and searching. He sniffed at Patton (probably not for any kind of actual inspection, but it made him laugh, and judging from Remus’ proud little smirk that had been on purpose.) “You had anything to eat? Or, uh, water? Those are supposed to be important.”

Oh, right. That. 

Patton leaned away, pulling his hand out of Remus’ grasp as he flushed abashedly. But he didn’t- well, he wasn’t going to lie to Remus.

“I guess I haven’t, no,” he tried to laugh it off- this didn’t have to be a thing, it didn’t have to be serious, if he kept laughing. If he got Remus to laugh.

But Remus was already standing, and that brought up another very effective solution; if Patton was being depressing, maybe he would just get sick of it and go. 

“Okay, we’ll start there! Wait here, I’ll be back in- ten minutes? Sure, that’s how long it takes to make food,” Remus was muttering half to himself, but it sure as heck didn’t sound like leaving.

“Oh, you don’t have to get me anything!” Patton insisted, because if Remus wasn’t escaping yet, then he wasn’t going to mooch off of his generosity. “Thanks for the reminder, I’ll- I’ll make sure to grab something soon.”

Remus stopped by the door, tipped his head from one side to the other, pretending to think it over.

“Hm. Nah.”

Patton tried to stand, and found that he was somehow too weak for even that much.

“Remus, please, I- I can’t even eat the same stuff as you, anyway! Don’t go through all that trouble for little old me,” he was edging on frantic, and he didn’t know why he was fighting so hard against receiving needed help, but it probably had something to do with Catholicism. 

Remus looked completely bewildered- a funny look, for him- and said:

“I mean, I wasn’t about to feed you hygiene products, or ceramic, or whatever. I know that I eat weird shit, Pat, that’s kind of the point- but I still know how to make a sandwich? And I know how to hold a cup under the sink so that water goes in it?” 

His voice took on a gently mocking tone. Patton glanced away, sheepish, and couldn’t find a response to that beyond a short nod.

Which was all Remus needed as the go-ahead, darting out of the room and down the stairs before Patton could argue any further. 

Patton stared after him, listened to him bustling around downstairs, and tried to feel comforted. He fell back against his pillows, breathing slow and concentrated. He was still shaking, with his previous exhaustion coming back full force. Some of the light-headedness, certainly, had to be due to the lack of eating, but he was unfortunately sure that it wasn’t even the half of it.

Patton was conflicted: He had to tell Remus that he was okay, as soon as he returned. Say thanks for the food, that it had helped, and they could spend time together tomorrow, Patton would promise. Get Remus away before it got bad, before the dam he’d built so carefully behind his eyes fell and the blue of them spilled out for hours. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie about his feelings- he knew it was bad for him, and he couldn’t keep doing it, not to someone’s face. Not somebody he cared about so much.

He wanted to let Remus stay, beg him to stay if he had to, just so he didn’t have to dig up all his long-buried emotions on his own. He wanted to pull him in and beg for help, even though he knew nothing had managed to help him before, and it was so futile. 

When the door opened some ten minutes later, Patton didn’t sit up. He didn’t even look up, scared he’d cry if he so much as moved his eyes in his own skull. 

“Hey.”

The sound of the door shutting, followed by those heavy footsteps. A soft thunk, presumably the plate of food being placed on his bedside table. Then the mattress dipped beside him, springs creaking. 

“Hey,” Remus said again, “Look at me.”

Patton rolled his head tentatively to the side. Remus was sitting with him, looking at him, his expression twisted up and solemn in all the worst ways. Patton felt the dam begin to crumble. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I know, I know that I’m no fun when I’m like this, and we were supposed to have fun today, and I just can’t do it. I can’t, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, but if you stay here when I’m-” he broke, clamping a hand around his mouth as a sob wracked his body.. “When I’m like this, I’m just gonna ruin your day more.”

That sad look, the one that had no place being in Remus’ expression, sharpened and widened until he looked almost angry. He crawled over to Patton, prying the side’s hand away from his face and cupping his cheek, gently, all the while that scowl was in place. 

“Do you want me to go?”

Patton could barely speak, knowing that he’d just blubber and blubber, but Remus was holding him up by the shoulders and peering down at him so patiently, so carefully.

“I- I-”

“Do you want to be alone?”

He couldn’t- he couldn’t keep lying.

Patton sucked in a breath.

“No.”

Remus grinned at him proudly, pulling back until he was kneeling. He spread his arms out, an offering that Patton had become intimately familiar with. Patton pulled himself up, shaking, incredulous despite the familiarity of the situation.

“Then you don’t have to be.”

And Patton pitched forward, right into Remus’ arms, clutching and crying and trembling like a leaf.

Distantly, he knew that he was still babbling apologies. Insisting that the Duke could leave as soon as he wanted, that Patton felt this way so often and he knew he couldn’t possibly expect comfort every time, a million other sentences that ran over and into each other which only seemed to make Remus clutch him tighter. 

“It’s okay,” Remus told him.

“It’s- It’s not, I don’t even have a- a reason to be so-” a hiccup, “- upset. It’s not like last time, when you found me- I don’t even have a bad excuse, I’m just- just-”

“Shut the fuck up,” somehow, even that sounded caring. “Somebody as Hello Kitty Wholesome as you’s got no business saying such bad shit about himself.”

Patton tried to apologize again. 

“Easy, Sugar, I’ve got you.”

Patton shuddered.

“When it gets bad like this, just tell me, alright?” Remus’ hands traced up and down his spine, across his shoulder blades, down his sides, warm and full and adoring. The smile in his voice was audible, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

And when Patton heard that, it was like a broken bone being set. Not fully mended, but held together enough that it could begin to heal the right way, of its own hard work, and come back twice as strong still. Remus held him so strong and it felt like a cast. 

Patton’s breakdowns were blurred memories at best, but he couldn’t have gotten that promise out of his head even if he wanted to. 

It was an achingly uneventful afternoon. Everything in the Mindpalace felt just a little out of focus, a little gray, and nothing much was going to change that except the day ending. Plain and simple, Thomas was Out Of It- and so, of course, were his sides.

On the whole it wasn’t a big deal, but it did make it downright impossible to finish any substantial work beyond menial, autopilot tasks. And creativity? Particularly for Remus, who more-or-less needed his human at full attention in order to have any creative power, it was totally hopeless. 

He wasn’t the kind of guy to work on half-power, to put it mildly. 

So, what did Remus do, when he had even less of an outlet than usual? It shouldn’t surprise you that the answer is literally anything, if it got people to pay attention to him and make him feel real again (which he wasn’t, actually, but let’s leave the semantics to Logan). What that usually amounted to- these days, at least- was talking, and talking, and more talking, and eventually somebody would probably react to something he said. Ideally. 

So on that particular gray-day, Remus sprawled himself out on the couch and waited for the first person who came by to trap in a very one-sided conversation. 

Said first person was Patton, as it happened, which was just Remus’ luck. He didn’t bother hiding how excited he was about it; Patton had always been his favorite target- of course, it was for a very, very different reason nowadays. 

Patton sat down with him as soon as he was waved over, propping a coloring book open on his knee and smiling warmly. His unoccupied hand went to wind through Remus’ hair, though, to make it abundantly obvious that despite his distraction he wasn’t ignoring the other.

Remus grinned at him, and started rambling immediately. 

And he- well, he wouldn’t really call it talking to himself, because he didn’t have a fucking clue what he was saying. But he wasn’t talking to Patton either, because that kinda defeats the purpose of a one-sided conversation. 

Which he didn’t mind. He wasn’t even listening to himself, he just needed to talk, and Patton wasn’t complaining. Remus was probably saying something unsavory, and still, there wasn’t any kind of flinching or interrupting. Patton even mhm’d and yeah’d every now and then, which was an entirely unnecessary reassurance. But Remus thought it was adorably considerate, and briefly entertained the idea of replacing that sweet little coloring book in Patton’s lap with his own self, to get some proper attention. 

(He would have, too, if he wasn’t so sure that he’d blurt out something very lewd in his stream-of-consciousness kind of mood, with a position like that, and he wasn’t sure if Patton could handle it at the moment. Morality always got a little out of whack on gray-days, too, so- loathe as Remus was to say it- better safe than sorry). 

Remus fell into the rhythm of it for, what, twenty minutes? He was bad with time, but- all he knew was he was thinking about Albert Fish, and talking about an entirely different serial killer out loud (Gacy? Bundy? It was definitely someone infamous), when the hand in his hair suddenly stilled. Patton wasn’t looking at him, either.

Remus glanced around, still talking, to find Logan standing in the kitchen doorway, staring expectantly at Patton. 

“I need you to accompany me outside for a moment. There’s something important that we-”

Patton cut him off with a wave, “Hang on for a second, Teach.” 

Logan obliged, looking bemused, and Patton turned his attention back to the still-tangenting Remus. Who was totally checked out, for the record. 

“Hey,” Patton rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly, “Pause?”

And Remus, surprised, did as asked. He didn’t care about what was going on around him, but he liked that smile, and the eyes focused in on him, so he sat up properly and tried to be quiet. Especially considering those were the first actual words Patton had said to him since he’d sat down. 

“I’m gonna go see what they need real quick,” Patton went on, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and you can finish telling me about Dennis Rader then-” So that was who! “Kay?” 

Remus stared mutely at him for an embarrassing number of seconds. He eventually managed a short nod, some vague utterances of yeah, sure, go ahead, before Patton was out the door with Logan, and he was left reeling on the couch. 

Remus felt a little bit like worms had eaten holes in his brain like swiss cheese, leaving him airy-headed and dizzy. All his organs felt wormy, in fact- squirming and sick and excited about something that really shouldn’t have been a big deal- but! It was!!!

Cuz Patton had been listening? Remus wasn’t even listening! He was probably barely coherent, and he’d been at it for twenty fucking minutes, and- and-

God! He just wanted to grab that stupid adorable head of Patton’s and! He didn’t even know! Do Something, something disgusting in the nice way, something deplorably PG and lovey-dovey and- Ugh! 

Remus buried his face in his hands and groaned. He felt like a goddamn schoolgirl- and not the hentai kind, for a change, but the hopelessly infatuated, cutesy type. Feelings that were gushy, giddy, affectionately bloody. 

It was the straw that broke the camel's spine. Urges and instincts and wants that Remus hadn’t been able to name coalesced into a neon sign in his mind, flaring the answer like it’d been obvious the whole time:

Was it a crush? Remus didn’t know a better word for it, even if it wasn’t- he just knew that he was pining, and for somebody he was happy to call his friend either way. And, huh. Weird. He didn’t know he could do that. 

“I’m back, I’m back!” Patton came scrambling back into the room, jolting Remus out of his thoughts, “Sorry about that, it was- well, it’s not a big deal, something happened with The Memories and- it’s fine now- anyway, what were you saying?”

He was chattering fast, even by Remus’ Standards, an apologetic smile on his face as he sat down and settled all his attention on the Duke. 

Remus said: “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” and wondered if he’d always been that shrill? Or was he being too quiet? What did his voice sound like again?? “I, uh, I don’t remember what I was talking about.”

Patton frowned at him, and looked about ready to apologize again, and he couldn’t very well have that. So, he babbled:

“Right, it was Rader? Um. Yeah,” but that was so far out of his mind by that point, and how did people ever talk while saying things and thinking other things! “Not much to say, ya know. Killed some people, got arrested, the usual.”

“Since when don’t you give me the graphic details?” Patton complained, “That’s your favorite part!” 

“I think I’ll spare you the nightmares this time, Morey! It’s, uhm, it’s your turn to talk.” 

“Oh, hush,” and Patton laughed, shooting Remus an encouraging, coaxing smile that made him just want to debone himself. “Those serial killer stories you like so much aren’t the nightmare fuel they used to be. You know why?”

Remus felt like the inside of his skin was full of spikes. Not in a bad way. 

“...Why?” 

“Because,” Patton said, like he was all too eager to explain himself, “I can’t really be scared of them when the scariest thing is what’s in bed with me.”

Remus flushed. Like, actually-  heat crawled across his face and over his ears, and he honestly had no clue the last time something or someone had made him blush. But Patton, acknowledging his scare-factor while somehow making it obvious he felt only safe with him, was apparently what ticked that box. 

“Right,” chirped Remus, “That’s- me!”

“Of course it is, Silly,” Patton bumped their shoulders together, smiling like he had no idea what he was doing- and to be honest, he probably didn’t.

Remus drank in the contact, happily using it as an excuse to wrap his arms around Patton and pull him closer. He buried his face in Patton’s shoulder, because as far as his impulses told him, he should either get the fuck away A.S.A.P. or drag Patton in as close as possible and not let go. Obviously, Remus had a preference. 

“You- uh- I was being serious though,” ugh, God, stuttering was so goddamn annoying- how did Virgil cope? “You should talk. I’m- I’m sorta overwhelmed.”

That was the truth, or part of it. Admitting it out loud at least managed to take some of the power out of it.

Patton immediately cooed at him- it should have been annoying; it wasn’t- and wrapped him up in his arms properly, muttering little of courses and do you need anything?s. Remus melted into him, finally claiming that spot in his lap (and any jokes his mind might have had about that were long gone, by then), shaking his head and glowing under the attention. 

Of course Patton was happy- after making sure that Remus was alright- to do some of the talking. He talked about his day, what he wanted to do later, or tomorrow, and of cute things that he’d seen, and a hundred other inconsequential Patton-isms. 

Remus was unused to sitting and listening, but with him… it wasn’t as bad as the Duke remembered it being. 

Oh, he was so fucking fucked. 

Chapter Nine

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @donnieluvsthings @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @gayformlessblob @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @thefivecalls

#sanders sides #ts #intruality #qpr intruality #patton sanders #remus sanders #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction

[gumnut-logic]

Take a Minute

This is another case of me just indulging myself. It took longer than expected and ended up at around 2400 words, none of which really go anywhere.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom​ for the read through and cheering.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

The hatch creaked as the hydraulics let it down to the dry hard packed dirt. A small puff of dust billowed up around the hot cahelium and it caught in his nose, tickling in the heat.

The horizon was flat and the earth iron red as it disappeared into the ominous grey of the cloud blocking the sky.

Virgil’s boots made their own puffs of dust as he stepped off the hatch and emerged from under the shadow of Two. The puffs followed him as he walked the length of his ‘bird. The dirt gritted under his specialised soles as he avoided the heat of her cooling VTOL and the scorch of her now quiet thrusters.

His landing was precautionary. A warning light had come on during the flight home and dumping himself in the middle of the Outback for a mechanical check was preferable to taking a swan dive in the middle of the Tasman.

Outside appearances gave no clue to the issue and unfortunately, he would have to wait for her engines to cool off before attempting to access the thruster that was the problem.

A sigh and he turned back to look at the horizon.

He truly was in the middle of nowhere.

“Thunderbird Two, status report.”

Typical Scott. His brother was hip deep in a rescue on the other side of the planet, but his brother radar still managed the range.

“Status a-okay, Thunderbird One. Just taking a moment to gaze at the scenery.”

“John says you have a mechanical fault.”

“Quite possibly. Fine for the moment. Just need a little cooling time. I’ll keep you updated.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.”

And then it was back to the silence.

True silence.

There was no wind.

No water.

No birds.

Just the heat of a dying day leaching out of the sand, the creak of his cooling ‘bird, and the potential energy in the air.

It was going to rain.

The Kansas farm boy could tell that much. Even in another country and an entirely different environment, he could feel it.

He didn’t need fancy instrumentation to predict that.

The impending storm raised the hair on his arms under his uniform. It itched at his skin and spoke of change.

Ants crawled across his boots, winged queens and drones launching to join a cloud of them off to his right.

It was eerie.

He shifted where he stood, unsure of what to do next. He wasn’t one for killing time. Time was a valuable thing and needed to be used to its upmost. But this stop was unplanned and there was little he could do while waiting.

Sure, there were tasks. There were always tasks, nitty gritty maintenance jobs. He was never short of work.

But the air was still. The sense of building atmospheric release buzzed across his senses.

It was tantalising.

He shivered.

There were still a couple of hours before sunset, but the air was dark due to the heavy cloudbank looming over the landscape.

A thought.

A flash of guilt followed by stubborn determination.

He turned and climbed back on to the hatch and retracted it, only to lower it again a few moments later with a folded chair and a box in his hands.

He parked it in the sand.

The silence was a physical presence.

He opened the box to reveal a portable watercolour kit – a neat palette of half pans, a fine brush and a small block of high-quality paper.

It was an indulgence he kept aboard his ‘bird. One he had yet to use, so this was definitely an opportune moment. A tiny amount of time to throw down some colour and capture this red-on-blue-grey intensity.

It didn’t take him long to realise he had forgotten a couple of things. A muttering step back into his ‘bird and he returned with a small table and a cup full of water.

He finally managed to settle himself. Painting while wearing his uniform wasn’t the most comfortable. It was bulky and in the way. He did shed his gloves, which meant he had to take off his wrist controller. Scott would frown enough to dent his nose, but he couldn’t paint with his gloves on.

There was heavy lifting, but there was also sensitive and tactile manipulation. He liked to think he was capable of both.

A dip of his brush into clear water, a dab of cadmium red, and colour spilled onto the paper.

Payne’s grey filled the sky in soft billows with just a hint of ultramarine. He tried to keep his touch gentle. Watercolour was so unforgiving. Fast and delicate, the colours could easily be overdone and unlike acrylic or oils, could not be undone satisfactorily.

It took all his concentration to sketch out the worn landscape.

The parched air dried the colours quickly and it wasn’t long before he was flicking strands of yellow ochre spinifex in the foreground, the little painting almost done.

In the distance, the clouds rumbled warning.

He dabbed in a second layer to bring up the contrast, the greys echoing the thunder on the horizon. Just a touch of green brought out the red of the iron in the sand.

“I really don’t know how you do that.”

Virgil nearly fell out of his chair.

“Scott!” His heart thudded in his ears and he clutched the drying painting in his hands as it tried to slip from his fingers. “What the hell?! How did you…?” He shot to his feet and turned to find his brother standing behind him. Beyond, at a respectable distance, sat Thunderbird One.

Scott held up both hands, taking a step back. “Hey, I saw you were painting, so I parked back a ways. Figured you wouldn’t want VTOL messing with your paints.” But then his brother was smothering a grin. “You were kinda zoned out there, Virg.”

“You were in Prague! How did you get here so fast?” It was a stupid question. He was Scott Tracy. Fast was part of his genome.

But his brother frowned. “It’s been over an hour since I last contacted you. The situation is resolved. I was on my way back and thought I’d check in. John said he hadn’t had an update.”

Virgil stared at his brother. An hour? He brought his wrist up to check the time, but his controller was on the little table beside his chair with his discarded gloves.

Oh.

Scott arched an eyebrow at him.

Virgil grunted before putting the painting down carefully and retrieving his equipment. A moment later, his gloves were on and his wrist controller back in place.

It was indeed over an hour later.

Thunderbird Two would have cooled down enough forty-odd minutes ago.

“You were lost in your painting, weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. His brother sighed, walked over to the table and picked up the piece of art. Blue eyes scrutinised it. “Nope. I don’t have a clue how you do that. It’s great, Virg.” He handed it over and somewhat numbly, Virgil took it.

He stared at the strokes in which he had been so absorbed earlier. The landscape stretched into the paper, reds bouncing off blues, the stillness captured in pigments.

Okay, so he had to admit, it was working quite well. He had muddied the colour a little in one corner and there was a patch where he’d left more white paper than was probably necessary because he was too worried about over doing the paint, but overall it mostly did what he wanted it to do. Oh, his wash hadn’t quite worked in that bit. Damn.

But…

He could get away with it.

“Earth to Virgil? You okay in there?”

Scott was smirking.

Virgil glared at him before cradling the watercolour block in one hand, picking up the palette with the other and packing it away. He stomped his way back to his ‘bird.

He ignored the laugh behind him.

He was stashing the paints in their locker when Scott joined him in Two, both the table and chair folded up in his hands. “Where do you stash these?”

Virgil gestured in the direction of the utility store and his brother put the equipment away.

Back in the cockpit, Virgil pulled up the suspect control and found the red light still glaring accusingly as Scott entered behind him.

“Give me ten. I need to inspect her starboard thruster.” He grabbed a safety line and threw back the overhead hatch. The gloomy atmosphere crept into the cockpit, but he ignored it and elevated the himself up so he could climb onto the top of his ‘bird.

“Virgil, you do know there is a storm coming in. You’re standing on the highest point for miles.”

“I’ll only be a minute.” Keep your pants on.

But his brother was right. His dawdling with his paints had cost him time and the weather was moving in.

He hurried across the back of his Thunderbird sliding carefully onto her starboard intake, and making his way down to the access hatch. He hooked in his safety line, prodded his controller to release the security, and hauled the hatch open.

Five minutes later, with several profane words that had Scott even more concerned, he yanked an obstruction out of her secondary intake valve.

It was a bright yellow, now somewhat grimy, Thunderbird Four.

No more than four inches long.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Virg? What? Who?”

“Gordon.” He didn’t elaborate. The sky was well and truly rumbling now and he needed to get inside.

Tightening the valve, he gave it a good once over to check for damage. Another poke at his controller and the dash confirmed the issue resolved.

Access secured, he unhooked his line and made a run for the main hatch just as the landscape lit up white with lightning.

He leapt into his ‘bird as if he had that lightning on his tail.

His boots hit deck plates. Virgil reached up and threw the hatch closed and sealed away the angry sky.

Scott was staring at him.

Virgil met that gaze before walking past his brother towards his pilot seat. He casually chucked the little Thunderbird Four to his brother like the grenade it was.

Scott caught it. “What the hell?”

Gordon was dead twice over and he didn’t even know it.

“You better get back to your ‘bird. The sky’s going to open up any minute and we should probably be above it rather than below it.” Virgil poked at the weather read out. It was only a weather front, nothing compared to the cyclone forces the Thunderbirds were capable of tackling. “You might get wet.”

Scott was still glaring at the model in his hand. A distracted grunt.

Gordon was definitely dead.

Possibly more than twice.

“Okay, less imaginary brother murders and more getting back to your ‘bird.”

“Huh?”

Yeah, so now who was zoning out?

Virgil nudged his brother onto the hatch platform and stepped on himself, lowering it onto the red dust again.

He stepped off the deck plates just as the first fat rain drops started to hit the dust.

Damn. “Too late.” And as if he had given the sky permission, it really opened up.

Water hit dry earth in big splats, puffs of red rose only to be taken down by more rain. The stipple of water fast became patches and then the land deepened in colour. The bright iron red darkened almost to a burgundy. The spinifex he had so finely painted not half an hour earlier, shifted from a yellow ochre to a gold that almost glowed in the remnant light.

As Scott stepped up beside him, secure under the protection of Two’s nose, the landscape bleached suddenly and the sky grumbled and cracked. The air smelt of ozone and the sharp evaporation of precipitation in the heat. But there was more water than the air or the earth could take and it puddled in the indents between the rocks.

Some kind of thorny lizard darted out from a tuft of spinifex and hurried under the shelter of Two beside the brothers. At the lack of the rain on its back, it looked up as if surprised. Two reptilian eyes stared at them before darting back out into the rain.

Scott took another step forward and Virgil put a hand on his arm.

“You’re not going to try to run through that.”

“I’ve got to get back to One.”

“Why?”

“Because…” His brother trailed off.

Virgil squeezed his arm gently. “Take a minute. This is a desert storm. It will be short lived. We can wait.”

Blue eyes stared at him.

Okay, so waiting wasn’t part of Scott Tracy’s genome.

“Take a minute. Watch.” Virgil turned back to the storm and revelled in the release of the tension that had been building for the last couple of hours. He watched the rain hit the earth, the patterns, the dance of spinifex leaves. He listened to the roar, the wet splat against cahelium, the sigh as the water disappeared into the grass and the grumbles in the clouds.

Scott eventually turned to look and, for a short while there, they were just a couple of brothers staring out at the storm.

The fact they were sheltering underneath one of the most advanced technological creations on the planet was unimportant.

“This is all your fault, you know.” Scott’s voice was soft.

A grunt. “I think Gordon’s is the more likely culprit.”

“If you hadn’t stopped to paint, we’d be home by now.”

Virgil didn’t answer immediately. He took a breath. “But then we would have missed this.”

At that moment the sun finally hit the horizon and slipped through a gap in the clouds to light up the wet landscape in gold. Rain still fell, but it was as if it was liquid sunlight failing from the sky. Water glistened on everything and the clouds lit up from underneath.

Thunder rumbled in clouds turning pink in the east.

“Yeah, we would.” But the acknowledgement was distracted as Scott stared at the spectacle.

Perhaps they had something for which to thank Gordon. It was a moment that they would never have experienced if Virgil hadn’t had to stop.

He breathed in the freshened air and let it out with a relaxing sigh.

No.

Gordon was still dead.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy

[trainsinanime]

Okay, I promised, so let’s talk about NFTs, Non-Fungible Tokens, just for fun. What they are, what can they do, and why do so many people say you should or shouldn’t participate in them. I’m trying to provide a mid-level overview here: All the moving parts so you actually know how it works, but not too much detail. Let me know whether this works.

Blockchain

To start with, the whole thing revolves around the idea known as blockchain. A blockchain is long shared list of messages that follow certain rules, and a computer network that manages it. The messages are signed, which means you can use maths to prove that a certain message is really from a certain user (or someone who knows their password anyway), without any central authority. In the first and still most important blockchain, Bitcoin, the only message type is a transaction of the form „transfer X amount of money to user Y“.

These transactions get added to the shared list in larger packets, so-called blocks, and they get added one after the other, forming a chain of blocks if you will. That’s where the name comes from.

(Note that despite the name, there is no coin of bits anywhere, it's all just bank transfers. This system is known as a "cryptocurrency".)

Before a message gets added to a block, and before the network accepts a new block, it gets checked to see whether it matches the rules. For Bitcoin, the important rule is that nobody spends money they don't have. All the complicated parts of Bitcoin and other blockchains exist to enforce these rules even without any central authority managing it.

The energy problem

This following part is not directly relevant to how NFTs work, it's technically just an implementation detail. But one of the main talking points is the energy consumption, and this is where it comes from.

Since the network is decentralized, anyone can collect new messages into a new block at any time, and tell other computers about the great new block they just greated. That means there can often be multiple new blocks, and there's a question of which one is the "true" one. The general rule here is simple: Every block lists which block is the one right before it, forming essentially its own chain. The longest of these chains wins. The idea is that there may be some confusion in the short term, but in the long term, everybody can just see what the longest chain is.

There is a potential risk here, though: Suppose someone buys something with some bitcoin. The payment gets added to the list, the product gets delivered, everything is fine. And then this person suddenly reveals fifty new blocks they created in secret, and none of them include the payment. Since this is the longest chain, suddenly this one is valid. The original payment never happened, and the attacker has both their money and the goods.

To avoid this, there is a so-called proof of work mechanism: Creating a new block is made deliberately very hard. You not only have to collect the messages and check them; you also have to make up a random number, then do a lot of calculations on the whole block, and only if the result is below a certain number is the block valid. If the result is too high, which is very likely, you need to guess a different random number and do the calculations again, and you need to do that a lot.

The express purpose of this is to make it slow, difficult and annoying to create new blocks, so that nobody can do so just for fun; instead it takes actual work in the form of a powerful computer (or many powerful computers) spending a lot of time computing. And that means they will also spend a lot of energy doing this computing. That's where all the CO2 emissions are coming from. The amount of electricity needed by Blockchains right now is scary, and a good reason to avoid anything to do with them at all.

To ensure people still do these calculations, there are rewards for whoever creates a valid block first: Some bitcoin handed out automatically; plus, all transactions can (and in practice will) include a field saying „and also pay amount Z to whoever puts this in a block on the blockchain“. This whole process is called "mining".

NFTs

Some specific blockchains allow you to define your own types of messages with their own rules in the form of computer code. The rest of the network will see a message, see which rule sets applies, then see what rules apply, and use those rules to verify the message.  Such a set of messages and rules is called a „smart contract“. This is mainly a thing on the network called "Etherium", and this is where these non-fungible tokens come into play.

On Etherium, you can define a smart contract with messages like:

„Hey guys, I own whatever is at this link here:“

And later:

„Hey guys, remember that link I said I owned? Now this guy <X> owns it.“

You can send as many of those as you like. You will still need to pay transaction fees, of course.

That link (or some more-or-less random string of digits) is the non-fungible token that everybody talks about. Unlike money, you can’t swap it for a different one, or divide it or similar, because, well, you set up the rules so that you can’t. That’s what the „non-fungible“ part means. But that is all there is to it: A distributed list of messages saying „this person owns that link now“.

By the way, I’m mostly talking about art and digital pictures here, because that’s what the main discussion is about, but proponents of NFTs are also saying they could be used for tickets for big public events (remember those?), land deeds and so on. Which is technically true, but it’s unclear whether they are adding any value here, but that’s a whole other tangent.

This token has no legal consequence in itself. It’s just something someone wrote in a list. You can certainly agree with someone that you’re both going to honor whatever is in that list, but that’s something that you’ll have to do explicitly, ideally in offline writing.

The systems can be a bit more complex; for example you might add a message that is „give this link from X to Y, and this amount of money from Y to X“, signed by both X and Y. You can also include a rule that „every time someone else gets ownership that link, the first person needs to get some money, else the message isn’t valid“. NFT fans are very excited about this one. The idea is that the artist gets paid every time the NFT is resold. Still, the basic principle stays the same.

(In practice, the link is usually not directly to the JPEG file in question, but rather to a file describing the file, which includes a link to the file in question. There is nothing in the system that automatically makes sure both links will actually keep working; that part is up to you. There are solutions, but it’s not automatic.)

Digital Original

When talking about this, people will talk about concepts like „digital scarcity“ and „original“ and „authenticity in a digital age“ and so on. So there are a lot of relevant questions, for example:

How does the system ensure that only the original author can claim ownership over a certain link („mint an NFT“)?

How does it ensure that you can only claim a certain file once, instead of several times slightly altered?

How does it ensure that a file is only traded on one smart contract, instead of many different ones with different rules and different owners?

The answer to these question is simple: There is nothing ensuring any of that. Is is just as easy to claim ownership over a file that someone else made as it is to claim ownership over a file you made. And no part of the system actually looks at the file itself; it’s just a link or an identifier. Fraud is easy and common. I’m not even entirely sure whether it technically counts as fraud, since these NFTs are legally meaningless, but you should probably ask a lawyer first if you’re planning to do something like this.

That way, NFTs are arguably ignoring the question that they claim is the whole point. What does „original“ even mean with things like digital art? Arguably the closest thing to an original is the representation in the artist’s computer memory. If it gets saved to a disk, that’s a copy. If it gets transferred to a server, the server holds a copy in its RAM, then copies it to its disk, then later copies its to its RAM again, and then whoever looks at it online downloads a copy, and probably decodes that copy (in JPEG format) into another copy that the screen can actually show… it’s all a big mess of copies. NFT’s solutions to that is to just say „this here’s the original because I said so“, and hope that enough people listen and pay money for it.

The economics

Does this really represent a new opportunity for artists? Well, maybe; there are a lot of crypto bros right now spending money on NFTs simply because it’s cool. Whether owning an NFT of something has any long-term value, let alone whether that value goes up over time, is something that remains to be seen.

You will find a lot of people arguing that it’s a scam, or a money laundering scheme, and honestly, it might be. You can’t exactly pay a lot of things with cryptocurrency right now, so everybody who has some needs to find someone to trade real money for it if they want to do anything useful. The NFT hype can definitely lead to more people buying cryptocurrency to participate in it all, which helps mostly those people who have a lot of it. I don’t think NFTs are an illegal scam, but obviously that’s not the same as a good idea.

Suggestions

I’m not an artist, so I don’t think I’m the most qualified to give suggestions here. But I don’t see why I should let that stop me.

Should you get involved with NFTs? That’s honestly up to you. If somebody offers you money (ideally actual cash) for you to create a picture that they’re gonna do an NFT of, I’d say consider it. The environmental impact is really that bad, but hey, it’s money.

If anybody is asking you to first buy some cryptocurrency to participate, though? Better run.

At the end of the day, whether people value the work of artists is sadly down to their personal opinions. Whether NFT will change that is, at best, a long shot. If you have people who are willing to pay for your work, having them pay you directly through commissions or Patreon or whatever seems like the best bet to me, because there’s no massive environmental impact and you’re not tied to volatile cryptocurrency exchange rates.

And if you’re interested in buying NFTs: I wouldn’t, but it’s your money. Just be aware of what it actually is you’re buying.

#nft #bitcoin #blockchain #cryptocurrency #non-fungible token #etherium