#'and I went through the same cycle of being hopeful to disappointed'

[callsigns-haze]

Out of All: Chp 3

Jake Seresin x OC! Anna Bradshaw

Brothers' Best Friend Series! Follow along as these characters navigate the treacherous waters of love, loyalty, and desire, all while facing the ultimate taboo: falling for your sibling's best friend. From heart-pounding moments to steamy encounters, this series is a rollercoaster of emotions that will keep you hooked until the very end. Brace yourself for intense romantic tension, sizzling chemistry, and enough drama to keep you guessing. Are you ready to embark on this captivating journey?

This chapter includes explicit sexual content with detailed descriptions of sexual activity and intimacy between characters. Scenes depict physical intimacy, including kissing, touching, and biting, with characters described in states of undress. Emotional intensity is explored, encompassing themes of longing, desire, and vulnerability, with brief references to past trauma. Characters may be shown consuming alcoholic beverages, and mature themes such as casual relationships

The studio walls seemed to close in, suffocating you with their unyielding presence. Bloody January, new year, new you, but here you were, stuck in the same cycle of frustration and disappointment. Hours had slipped by like grains of sand through an hourglass, each one adding to the weight of your exasperation.

Today was one of those days where nothing seemed to click, where every note was a struggle, and every chord felt like a battle. The music refused to flow, stubbornly resisting your attempts to coax it into existence. And as the hours stretched on, tensions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Frustration radiated from every corner of the studio, a palpable energy that hung heavy in the air. The once vibrant space now felt suffocating, stifling your creativity with its oppressive atmosphere. All you wanted was to escape, to retreat into the sanctuary of solitude and lick your wounds in peace.

But duty called, in the form of your brother's plea to join him and his friends at Penny's bar tonight. You wanted to meet them, to connect with his circle, but today, the thought of socializing felt like an insurmountable task.

"Anna, we need to get this moving!" Harry's voice cut through the tension, his frustration mirroring your own. With a roll of your eyes, you shot him a pointed look, the weight of exhaustion bearing down on your shoulders.

"What do you honestly think I've been trying to do, huh?" you snapped, your words laced with frustration. You were tired, irritable, and every fiber of your being screamed for release. The studio felt like a prison, trapping you in a cycle of unfulfilled potential and dashed hopes.

As Harry left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for another attempt. One more time, from the top, and then you were out. With a resolve born of sheer determination, you began to play, your voice a beacon of defiance amidst the chaos.

Each note carried the weight of your frustration, each chord a testament to your resilience. Despite the odds, you refused to be defeated, pushing forward with a determination that bordered on desperation. And as the melody unfurled, weaving its way through the heavy atmosphere, you felt a glimmer of hope ignite within you.

The music may not have been perfect, may not have flowed effortlessly from your fingertips, but it was yours. A reflection of your struggle, your perseverance, and your unwavering commitment to your craft. And in that moment, as the music carried you away on its wings, you found solace in the simple act of creation, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty to be found.

"Summer went away Still, the yearning stays I play it cool with the best of them I wait patiently He's gonna notice me It's okay, we're the best of friends Anyway

I hear it in your voice You're smoking with your boys I touch my phone as if it's your face I didn't choose this town I dream of getting out There's just one who could make me stay All my days

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I waited ages to see you there I search the party of better bodies Just to learn that you never cared

You're on your own, kid You always have been

I see the great escape So long, Daisy May I picked the petals, he loves me not Something different bloomed Writing in my room I play my songs in the parking lot I'll run away

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I called a taxi to take me there I search the party of better bodies Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

You're on your own, kid You always have been

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this I hosted parties and starved my body Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money My friends from home don't know what to say I looked around in a blood-soaked gown And I saw something they can't take away

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned Everything you lose is a step you take So make the friendship bracelets Take the moment and taste it You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid Yeah, you can face this You're on your own, kid You always have been"

---

Bradshaw! Where's your sister at?" Natasha's impatience cut through the chatter, her eyes scanning the bar for your familiar presence. Bradley glanced at his phone, hoping for a message or a sign of your impending arrival, but found nothing. A sense of unease settled over him, a nagging feeling that something was amiss.

"Don't know, Phoenix. She's probably stuck at work," Bradley replied, his voice tinged with concern. He watched as Jake and Javy played darts, his mind drifting back to the front door of the bar. "Where are you, Anna?"

With a flicker of apprehension, Bradley unlocked his phone, dialing your number in a desperate bid for reassurance. Each ring felt like an eternity, his heart pounding in his chest as he prayed for your familiar voice to answer. But the silence on the other end only deepened his worry.

Then, a message popped up on his screen, accompanied by a video from you. Relief flooded through him as he read your text, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We only wrapped up now. Give me ten and I'll be there!"

As he watched the video, a sense of pride swelled within him. Your voice, clear and strong, filled the bar, carrying the weight of your emotions with each note. It was a song about solitude, about facing life's challenges head-on, and Bradley couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for his talented sister.

"Hey guys! My sister's gonna be here in a bit. She sent me a video if you want to see!" Bradley called out to the group, excitement rippling through the air. He had mentioned your burgeoning music career to his friends before, and now they eagerly gathered around him, eager to catch a glimpse of the elusive Anna Bradshaw.

As the video began to play, Jake's eyes widened in recognition. The pieces fell into place, and he realized why you looked so familiar. With your distinctive features and undeniable talent, you were unmistakably Baby Bradshaw, the younger sibling whose musical journey had captivated their curiosity.

As the last notes of your song faded away, a chorus of applause erupted from your audience. Bradley couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest as he watched his sister's talent being recognized and celebrated by those closest to him. In that moment, as the warmth of camaraderie washed over him, he knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have a supportive network by your side.

He and Coyote both took a step back, their expressions mirroring a mix of shock and disbelief. Javy leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper as he posed a question that hung heavy in the air, "Isn't that the chick from last weekend?" Jake shot his friend a warning look, silently urging him to keep his thoughts to himself.

In that moment, the weight of his actions hit Jake like a ton of bricks. He had been sleeping with a Bradshaw, his wingman's precious baby sister. The realization washed over him, a wave of dread and regret crashing against his conscience. How could he have been so blind? How could he not have recognized you, despite your distinctive features and undeniable talent?

God, Bradley would kill him. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, his stomach churning with a sickening mix of guilt and apprehension. He had betrayed his friend's trust in the worst possible way, tarnishing the bond they had built over years of camaraderie and loyalty.

As he glanced at Bradley, he could see the color draining from his friend's face, his expression a mask of disbelief and shock. The room seemed to spin around him, the reality of the situation hitting him like a freight train. "Hey Bagman, you okay?" Fanboy's voice cut through the tension, his concern palpable as he glanced at his fellow pilot.

"Fine," Jake replied, his voice strained as he forced the words past the lump in his throat. But inside, he knew that nothing would ever be the same again. He had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and now, he would have to face the consequences of his actions.

---

You parked your car near the light blue bronco, recognizing it as your brother's vehicle. As you stepped out and locked the door, a sense of apprehension settled over you. You knew Bradley would likely be frustrated, perhaps even angry, that your colleagues had made you late for the meeting.

Entering the bar, you spotted Bradley with a group of young aviators. He walked down to greet you, enveloping you in a side hug. His whispered words tugged at your heartstrings. "You actually came," he murmured. With a playful eye roll, you leaned in to whisper back, "You pay the rent without allowing me to, I had no choice."

The resemblance between you and Bradley was uncanny, from the curls in your hair to the twinkle in your eyes. As he introduced you to his friends, you greeted them warmly, but your attention was quickly drawn to one individual in particular: Jake. Jake Seresin, Hangman, Bradley's wingman.

Bradley's introduction sent a jolt of panic through you. You had slept with Jake, your brother's wingman. Out of all the people, why him? The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and you knew you had to tread carefully to ensure that Bradley never found out about your previous encounter with Jake.

As Jake greeted you with a Texan charm that sent shivers down your spine, you struggled to maintain your composure. Bradley couldn't know, couldn't suspect anything. So you smiled politely, nodding at Jake's introduction, all the while grappling with the knowledge of the secret you shared with his wingman.

Jake knew that Bradley could never figure out that the two of you had met previously, so he played it cool, maintaining his composure to prevent your brother from catching on. "Hangman, but you can call me Jake, darlin'," he said, his Texan accent adding a touch of charm to his words.

As Jake shook your hand, Bradley watched the interaction closely, his protective instincts kicking in. "Brad told me a lot about you," you remarked casually, withdrawing your hand and wrapping your arms around yourself as you engaged in conversation with Jake. "I could say the same," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed Bradley had rejoined the group, leaving you to converse with Jake. But before you could delve further into conversation, Jake leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you met his intense gaze, scanning the room to ensure no one was listening in on your conversation. "Yeah, that's putting it nicely," you replied, a sense of apprehension creeping into your tone.

----

"You're actually his sister," Jake sighed, his frustration evident as he ran his hands down his face while seated on the outside deck of the bar. The realization hung heavy in the air, both of you grappling with the unexpected twist of fate that had brought you together.

"Look Jake... Would you change anything if I wasn't his sister?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. It was a question neither of you had anticipated, probing the depths of what could have been if circumstances were different.

"No," Jake replied simply, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering determination. Despite the complications that your relationship with Bradley introduced, he was adamant that he wouldn't alter a single moment they had shared.

His response left you conflicted. On one hand, you were relieved that he didn't regret what had transpired between you. On the other, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt about the potential fallout with your brother.

"What about Bradley?" You countered, your mind racing with the implications of your newfound connection with Jake.

As you contemplated the situation, memories of the rules you and your best friend, Caila, had established as teenagers flooded your mind. Rule number one: Never, under any circumstances, become romantically involved with each other's siblings. It was a pact born out of loyalty and mutual respect, a boundary that had never been crossed. You believed guys had some sort of similar boundaries.

But now, faced with the undeniable chemistry between you and Jake, you questioned whether those rules still held weight. Was it breaking a code if neither of you were aware of its existence? And could you deny the undeniable attraction that pulsed between you, despite the potential consequences?

"I've done worse things," Jake confessed, his words hanging in the air like a weighty admission. In that moment, you knew that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but the pull of desire was too strong to resist.

tagging:

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[silvervioletvalentine]

🎱🖤!The boyfriend experience!🖤🎱

Pairing : Quinn Hughes x Cherrie!

Word count : 10k

Summary: in which he’s bad with words so Trevor comes up with plan ‘the boyfriend experience’ . Aka- show her what’s it’s like to have a man that’s in love with her In hopes that she sees what was right there waiting for her all along.

Warnings: fluff. Tiny bit of angst? Dickhead ex’s and Cherrie and Q snap like little angtsy bitches at each other like once or twice. That’s it? I think. Idek. I’m not sure I like this one but have it anyways! Xoxo

Quinn felt like their weekends were repeating itself as they heard the slamming of their front door, high heels being thrown angrily to the floor before she let out a strangled scream of heartbreak , frustration and hurt .

Not looking in either of their directions as she stomped through the apartment with tears in her eyes , pretty dress all rumpled and lips trembling again .

Quinn shared a familiar look with Trevor as they both watched their friend sniffle and cry over yet another guy that wasn't worth a single tear of hers , feeling his own heart squeeze painfully in his chest for her, the same way he did every time this happened.

He oftened wondered why such a beautiful and golden hearted woman like Cherrie kept letting these stupid , heartless assholes break her down like this.

De ja vu became the same old song , the same tune, the same lyrics but with a different man each time. All of them causing her nothing but heartbreak and pain, yet she never stopped or gave in.

Trevor told him it was because she had watched her mother do the same thing , going through guy after guy her whole life. Screaming , crying and going through the same endless cycle of toxicity and drama until she finally found the one.

Like Mother , like daughter . All she wanted was to find her one, her person ..her best friend. So she looked and she searched , she laughed prettily at date nights , she let them touch her skin and kiss her blue but each time she came back home alone. Each time yet another attempt at love needed , Quinn could see the light slowly fading from her pretty eyes , could see the strain in her sweet smile . Could see the toll the heartbreak was taking on her body as she grew more tense , more on edge and more argumentative .

Refusing to listen to any of them, refusing to believe that her friends advice was right . That love would find her when she was ready , that she needed to stop looking for love in dirty bars and sleezy clubs, that she wasn't going to meet the one past midnight.

But Cherrie was stubborn , and she was a hopeless romantic . A hot mess. So she went on every date , accepted every touch and every empty kiss in hopes that it would make her feel something .

Longing to feel that spark , to feel her heart come alive again , to just feel something other than pain, other than disappointment and guilt when yet another attempt at love blew up in her face.

Trying to push down the tears as the disgust and self doubt set in, wondering why they didn't want her like she wanted them too. Wondering why she wasn't enough to keep them loyal, wondering why every man she tried to love always turned out to be the same .

Liars with pretty faces and the charm of a two faced snake .

Another notch added to her pain as she saw her boyfriend leave a party with someone that wasn't her. Watched him smile like he had never smiled at her , kissing this beautiful girl like she was the star in his sky.

Her boyfriend found the one. And it wasn't her. It never was. She was always the stepping stone for them to find someone better. Every ex boyfriend had found the one after ruining her , after ripping her apart and  tearing her heart to pieces .

They got their happily ever after . They got their happy story. They got their one. Their northern star.

Cherrie got Empty apology's , the 'it's not you it's me.' She got the slammed doors and pitying looks from her friends as yet another man didn't want her.

She could feel the hollowness spreading across her chest as she sniffled and roughly wiped at her eyes, glaring over at a grimacing Trevor , who was shaking his head quietly at her. Looking like he was going to say something

So she snapped "I don't want to fucking hear it right now alright? I know. I fucking know!" Daring them to say a single word about it.

She didn't give them a chance to reply, didn't even spare them a second glance before she was stomping off to her bedroom , the door slamming shut loudly behind her as she threw her tired body down onto her bed . Burying her burning face into her pillow as she screamed into it, cursing out his name.

Just like with everything else . She never learned.

It was tensely silent between then for a while before Trevor finally scoffed and muttered sadly "I wish she would stop doing this to herself." Hating seeing his friend in so much pain. Hated that she couldn't just see what was right in front of her.

Every day he had watched them dance around each other , his friends hurting each other without even realising it.

For so long now , He had watched Quinn quietly watch her from afar as she laughed at another mans jokes, watched Quinn swallow painfully and force himself to look away each time she cried to them about yet another love gone bad.

He had watched Quinn silently love her for the past three years while Cherrie wondered why no one could ever do so, oblivious to the longing glances and heartache that she was causing the quiet hockey player who wasn't brave enough to say a thing.

So they both hurt , and they both wished for it to be different.

Trevor was so fucking sick of it.

He said so , looking at a frowning Quinn on the couch opposite him , still staring silently at the space where she had been stood.

"You're losing out ya know? Wasting time because Some day she won't come home crying because she's got her heart broken again." He told him straight up , fed up with the both of them acting like this.

Quinn didn't answer. He never did.

Simply rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defensively over his chest , refusing to look up from his feet. Heart sinking deeper in his stomach as he heard her cry from her room, inhaling a little shakily as he told himself that she wouldn't want him anyway . She just didn't look at him as someone that could make her happy in a way that ‘just friends’ didn’t.

Not that he blamed her. He hasn't actively tried to either. Had never done or said a single thing that could make her aware to his feelings . Had never so much as touched her softly like he wanted to , they only ever bickered and shoved at each other as friends. No matter how much he wished it was different , he didn’t have to guts to put his heart on the line like that .

So instead He held her hair when she was throwing up after drinking with her friends.

He silently passed her tissues when she cried quietly during a sad movie. He pulled her away from fights that started just because she was drunk and bored, hauling her home before she could cause anymore trouble.

He was the one that she played video games with. The one she bickered with over what they would eat each night . He was the one who drove her to her dates, the one that had her location on his phone to make sure that she was safe. The one to pick her up the following morning , same dress and walk of shame.

They never spoke about it, he just brought her back home and they ignored the quiver to her voice and the tightness of his fists around the wheel as he drove them home at sunrise .

He was never an option for her. He knew that but it didn't mean that it hurt any less to watch her get her heart broken all over again. To watch her be used and thrown away like she wasn't something special , as though her very being didn't make him feel complete . As though the simple Brush of her fingers never sparked his fuse.

But he never said a thing. He was too damn scared of what could happen if he did.

"You should try man. What have you got to lose?" Trevor said.

Hearing enough, Quinn shoved to his feet and shook his head at him in annoyance.

“Shut up." He muttered underneath his breath , not sparing him another glance before he made his way down the hallway.

Taking a deep breath as he hovered outside of her bedroom door for a moment , hesitating , before finally knocking softly and stepping inside her room.

Cherrie, now wrapped in a oversized hoodie , eyes rimmed red and scowl plastered to her pretty face. Glared at him tiredly "come to tell me 'I told you so?'" She muttered , angry with herself for letting this happen again. Ashamed that she was so weak for each and every lie they gave her.

She just wanted somebody to love her. Just her. Was that so much to ask for?

Quinn felt a pinch in his chest at how she thought he would throw her pain straight in her face , shaking his head at her. Feelings Hurt .

But he didn't let his feeling show. He never did.

Instead he simply sighed and shrugged his shoulders casually before asking "no. Wanna  make some cookies? I want something sugary." Picking it out from the top of his head.

He just wanted her to stop looking so fucking sad over some asshole that didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as she did.

Cherries lips parted a little as she frowned, looking over at him in disbelief . She watched him shuffle on his feet, not meeting her eyes. Instead he fiddled with the soft dressing gown on the back of her door and she found her glare softening immediately .

Sniffling quietly , she shuffled off the bed and pulled her sweater further down her thighs . Shoving her feet into the fluffy cow face slippers , she missed the way Quinn looked down at the ridiculous googley eyed slippers with a small quirk of his lips. Fondness covering his face.

So She sighed "chocolate?" She muttered. Peering up at him through wet lashes , sniffling again as she wiped at her face tiredly. Just wanting this awful day to be over.

Quinn hummed a little as he opened her door, nudging her through it first gently first before he followed her out.

"Obviously." He replied quietly , ignoring the raised eyebrow Trevor shot them from the couch as he played video games.

He wasn't doing anything, wasn't going to try anything . No matter what Trevor thought he knew.

He just wanted her to stop fucking crying all alone In her bedroom like a saddo. That's all. and cookies always made her feel better before. He had once watched her eat an entire plate full after watching the notebook.

Cookies were always the best option to go with.

Cherrie pulled her herself up on the countertop next to him , watching quietly as he pulled out all the ingredients and got to work. She held the mixing bowl while he measured out the sugar. Silence lasting between them for a while, neither knowing just what to say.

Legs swinging , she placed her foot on his hip as he leaned over to pour the dry ingredients into the bowl. Cherrie stirring it as she neaded her toes into his hip absentmindedly .

Quinn's lips quirked at her actions but he didn't move away, he just pinched her ankle and muttered casually "the moron kind of remembered me of megamind with that big ass forhead of his."

The casualness of his comment made her snort , both amused and startled.

Then She laughed . Hollowly. Taking her foot back as she placed the bowl onto the counter and reached beside her to grab a glass of much needed wine.

Quinn watched from the corner of his eye as she poured the red wine until the glass was almost full, sighing quietly to himself as she gulped it down without any hesitation . Knowing what was going to happen. They had this routine pinned down by now.

"Only megamind turned out to be a good guy in the end. This one turned out to be a fucking liar and a cheat." She grumbled upset .

Exhaling loudly as she shook her head in disbelief at herself , wondering when her luck in love would change. Or if it ever even would.

Quinn didn't know what to say. So it went quiet between them again, Cherrie sipping on her wine while he put the cookies on the tray with a icecream scoop.

Eyes down to the tray, he muttered "but he was also blue so.."

Cherrie grumbled "maybe I like them blue. Matches my fucking mood eh?" She laughed amusedly , eyes down to her glass missing the way Quinn frowned sadly at her.

Stupidly , she added without thinking "I'm gonna have to redownload tinder again. That'll be fun."

Quinn slammed the oven door shut a little too hard, making her look over at him, startled by the sound.

She found his eyes already on her, face hard and lips pursed as he struggled to push down the rush of anger and sadness he felt . Shaking his head at her in disbelief .

"Isn't that what started this mess in the first place?" He remarked , unimpressed by how she was already planning on her next heartbreak when it had only been hours since her last one.

She was a fucking glutine for punishment. He wished it didn't hurt to know why she did it. Wish it didn't hurt so much to see her to find love in every single guy that wasn't him. In all the wrong places and wrong people.

He wasn't even an option in her mind , and it stung.

"Why not take a break from it?" He added hopefully. It would lessen both of their heartbreak, at least for a little while.

Cherrie, tipsy and pissed off with the whole male species in general. Scoffed cruelly "and be forever single like you are? I don't think so. I actually want somebody to come home to." She muttered coldly.

Quinn paused.

Gripping the towel tightly in his hand, felt the blow of her words. Then Turned them straight back at her like an arrow because arguing was familiar .

Feelings just hurt.

It was easier to be angry than to be sad.

"Better to be single then getting constantly cheated on by guys that don't even see you as a fucking human being. You're just a stepping stone for them to use until they find the next best thing." He snapped back.

Wincing as soon as the cruel words had left his mouth , knowing that he had gone too far. That she was still too vulnerable, her heart still too sore with heartache to hear it.

Wounded , she jumped down from the counter and glared over at him angrily.

Slamming her empty glass down onto counter, she felt her lip quiver , another arrow to her chest .

She looked into Quinn's hardened face, then saw his eyes shift uneasily , saw the remorse come a little too late.

"Fuck you!" She shouted at him hatefully .

Head spinning and heart hurting like a bitch because she knew that he was right. And that's what hurt the most.

“At least I can get someone! You're single because no one fucking wants you! Not even for night! At least I have someone to cry over! What do you have? Hockey! That's it!" She was hurting him and she knew it but she couldn't shut her mouth. She never could. They never could.

Months of hurting and months of men invalidating her feelings, and treating her like shit.

She was enough for men to fuck but that was it and it fucking hurt so bad. It hurt to see her friends roll their eyes when it happened to her again and again and again. Like she wanted it to happen. Like she asked to be used and thrown away like a dirty rag when they were done with her.

It hurt to see Quinn not a say a thing when it did. To have him so close , yet he didn't hold ber. Didn't wipe away her tears. He always stayed away.

He didn't look at her when she got ready for her dates, didn't say a word when she brought them back home. But she saw the judgment all over his face when they would still be there in the morning , saw the way he would scoff beneath his breath and leave as soon as he saw her in their T-shirt , not returning until they were gone again.

It was like he didn't give a single shit and it fucking stung because that was all she wanted him to do. But he never did. He treat her like a friend he barely tolerated. 

He would make her food but he would never sit down to eat with her. He would hand her a drink on a night out but leave as soon as she got up to dance. He never stayed around to hear her reply, never stayed long enough for her to ask him to dance with her . Never looked at her long enough for her to catch his eye and smile his way.

And it hurt and it made her angry that it did because she didn't understand why she felt that way. Why she wanted Quinn to look at her , why she wanted him to listen to her stupid jokes and go crazy Golfing with her. Why she saw something at some stupid store and immediately wondered what he would think about it. Why she always looked for him in each crowded room even when she knew he wouldn't be there , preferring to stay home and out of the way.

She didn't get it. Because Quinn wasn't her type. She usually went for tall, tanned , six packed guys with more ego than brains . The kind that looked so good that it made her brain halt all together , the guys so hot that she forgot what assholes they were as soon as they took off their shirts and flashed their white grins at her. That was what she usually went for and it always ended up in tears, for her at least.

Quinn was ...Quinn wasn't them. At all. And maybe ..maybe that was why it stung so much to hear the words come out from his mouth.

When all she wanted to do was talk to him and tell him that she was sorry , that she didn't mean it. That any girl would be lucky to have him.

Because he was, he was a good guy. Beneath the grumbles and the mumbles, he was good.

She felt like a evil cunt stood next to him. Both of them glaring at each other, too tired and too worked up. Both should have known better than to do this then.

"Fuck you!" Quinn shouted back at her, so hurt and so fucking angry.

Trevor , quickly hauled his ass up off the couch as soon as he heard them screaming at each other nastily . Running into the kitchen , wide eyes darting between the two of them in shock.

"What the hell is going on?!" He exclaimed while pulling a seething Cherrie away from Quinn before she could hit him. Or do something just as stupid.

She choked on a sob "he's a fucking dick! He Can dish out the truth but can't handle it himself!" She snapped out .

Quinn scoffed coldly at her in return "truth? The truth is that you're so fucking desperate for attention that you get with these stupid assjole and then-" he ignored Trevor rapidly shaking his head in warning to him, Quinn only seeing red after being bathed in green jealously for so long .

“-Then You expect us to be all sympathetic when it ends in you getting fucked over again! You cause your own bullshit Cherrie !" He shouted at her furiously .

Trevor winced in shock "shit- man- come on-"

Cherrie snatched her arm from his grip before laughing humourlessly "fine! If that's how you feel then I won't fucking tell you anything anymore! I'll deal with my bullshit on my own! Since I'm such a fucking attention seeking bitch-!" She shoved past the both of them in a rage . Just wanting to go to sleep and forget that she even existed.

Quinn groaned loudly , hands rubbing over his face in frustration . Because that wasn't what he wanted to say or what he meant at all. But he had never been very good at words. Just like she wasn't with her own either.

"I didn't say that-I didn't call you a bitch-"

"You might as well have! But trust me, I don't think of you very highly right now either!" She screamed while pushing open her bedroom door "so fuck you and your cookies you asshole!" She screamed over her shoulder , then the door slammed shut behind her.

Leaving both Trevor and Quinn in a tense silence in the kitchen . Trevor looking at him in disbelief as he ran his hand through his hair stressfully.

Disappointment quickly filled his gaze as he looked at Quinn. "dude-what was that?  Screaming at her isn't going to get her to-"

Quinn scoffed angrily , cutting him off. "god just shut up! I don't care alright? She's just acting like she always does. Blames everybody but herself!" He snapped. Pulling the cookies out of the oven before they burned.

The anger making him practically throw them down onto the plate, the hotness of them not even registering with him. Too busy with his head full of her tearful eyes and razor blade tongue.

Trevor rolled his eyes at them behind his back. "just like you then. You like to blame her and the guys but I don't see you stepping up and doing what you want to." He said blandly. Sick of them both .

Quinn swallowed, eyes still down to his hands putting away the cookies. "you don't know what I want to do. I don't know why I even fucking bother." He muttered upset. Grabbing a smaller plate and placing two of the bigger cookies on it.

Trevor smiled a little in amusement as he watched his actions.

"cause you love her." He simply responded. 

Quinn shook his head in denial but his down turned eyes were glossy as he grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water .

“I don't. She just-" he inhaled sharply in frustration "she's so fucking stubborn. She doesn’t listen. She looks right through me-"

Trevor groaned again in annoyance. "man. She's not psychic . And shes obviously not smart with love. She's not gonna know if you don't tell her. You haven't even tried!" He wanted to shake him until he realised that she was right there.

All he had to do was reach out for her and never let her go.

Quinn scoffed lowly at him "she doesn't feel that way about me. The new guy every week tells me that. I can't tell her-" the thought made him want to be sick.

What would he even say? He always fucked it up when it came to speaking . Just now proved it to him.

Trevor just shrugged and said "so show her then. Show her what a good boyfriend you could be. Show her how a man in love is supposed to treat his girl. Show her what it feels like when you're the one." He felt like a love guru . Maybe reading all those trashy magazines in airports about love had finally payed off.

He couldn't wait to rub it in all of their friends faces that he was right , that he was their Cupid’s Angel . He just needed it to work.

Both so he could be brag to everyone about him being right ,but mostly so his friends would stop pouting and just be happy together . It seemed so simple in his mind.

Quinn paused and frowned a little at him "show her? How?" His curiosity was peaked because he didn't know how much longer he could go on seeing her with everyone but him.

It hurt too much now.

Trevor grinned smugly at him "give her the boyfriend experience. You can't tell her how you feel? Show her then . Do what you want to. Do everything that you stop yourself from doing because you're too scared she won't feel the same way. Then see how she reacts." He told him confident that his plan would work.

And Quinn, well, Quinn felt like he had everything and yet nothing left to lose.

All he wanted was Cherrie but he needed to show her just how much he cared and shouting at her wasn't the way to go about it.

The next morning Cherrie slugged herself into the kitchen to find a plate already set in front of her usual seat, brows furrowing as she watched Quinn scrape scrambled eggs , bacon and scraps onto the plate . Even greeting her with a small smile as he placed a glass of orange juice beside her plate too.

She slowly took her seat, warily glancing over to Trevor to see if he was finding this as weird as she was.

Having expected Quinn to still be pissed off after their fight last night , he usually stayed on the couch with his bowl of cereal. Refusing to talk to anyone until it was past twelve.

But it was half nine in the morning and he was cooking her breakfast and smiling at her, Cherrie felt on edge . Carefully poking at the food on her plate , eyeing it suspiciously.

"Have you put laxatives in this?" She blurted out, still half asleep and wondering if she was dreaming . Because in what world did Quinn smile and make her breakfast for no reason?

Quinn looked over at her with a offended frown, ignoring Trevor snickering at the look on her face.

When he glanced at him, he just gave him a encouraging thumbs up. The plan to treat her like he was her boyfriend, without actually being it , already set in motion.

He felt awkward as he tried to explain "you usually forgot to eat in the mornings and well...that's stupid and I don't want you to be hungry until lunch so.." he shrugged it off, making his own bowl of cereal. Taking the seat opposite her at the table instead of heading off to the couch like he usually did.

Cherrie was looking at him like he was going to shoot her right there and then.

"Quinn..." she didn't know what to say. But hunger got the better of her, so she shovelled the food into her mouth and decided to shut up and not complain. Humming happily at the taste.

"Thanks." She muttered around her fork , digging in. Missing the way his eyes lit up as he watched her enjoy the food he had made her. The first three attempts burnt and chucked at the bottom of the trash can.

But attempt four was a success.

He hid his grin behind his spoon , swallowing his mouthful as he eyed her then, in a large shirt , sleep in her eyes and hair a wild mess. Curls going off in every direction . He loved seeing her like this, to him , this was when she was most beautiful. Just being herself.

Remembering the way Trevor had told him to compliment her and tell her just what he thought , he tried to give it a go.

Tried to.

Clearing his throat a little he gathered his courage then "I like your hair." He blurted out. Grimacing a little at how strange he sounded , as though he too couldn't believe what he was saying.

Cherrie carefully eyed him over her plate , self consciously running a hand through her hair in attempts to get it to stick down.

“It's a mess. I haven't even brushed it yet." She said, wondering if he was messing with her.

Quinn let out a awkward laugh , shaking his head slowly as he motioned towards her hair like an idiot .

"no. I mean it always is-" seeing the offended look on her face he quickly added "I mean. I like it how it always is. Even when it is messy!" He wanted to die.

Trevor was face palming , eyes closing in disbelief as he watched Quinn fuck up something as simple as complimenting her . But to his defence , they had spent the last few years only ever insulting each other and every honest compliment came wrapped up in sarcasm and jokes.

So he was...new to this.

Cherrie frowned "geez thanks Quinn. I know it's a mess , you don't have to rub it in!" She snapped, still tired and still upset from last night.

She quickly finished off her breakfast and stood up, Downing the orange juice all the while glaring at him.

Quinn spluttered while trying to fix his mistake , hands waving about in front of him "I'm not! I don't mean it badly! I love your hair!" He tried to assure her.

She clearly didn’t believe him , scoffing "you've just called is messy!" She exclaimed.

He huffed in frustration wondering why he was so bad at this. "It is! But that's because you've just woken up! And it still looks good! That's all I'm trying to say." He almost shouted , annoyed that he couldn't even compliment her right.

Unfortunately Cherrie thought that he was annoyed at her .

So she glared, looked at his own messy hair and scoffed again "well. Whatever Quinn! When was the last time you even washed yours?!" She threw at him before stomping off to her room again.

Leaving Quinn to Gape at where she had just been stood in disbelief . Trevor sighing long and hard at him, patting his shoulder in pity.

"Not your best effort. Could use a little more work on that." He winced . Having forgotten that quinn lacked any charm at all. He had the grace of a drunk elephant .

It was going to be long time until their plan worked.

It got even stranger after that and Cherrie felt like she was living in a alternate world where Quinn Hughes actually put in effort to being around her, always making up some excuses to help her and just be there by her side.

Like now, after hearing her tell Trevor that she was heading out to get some drinks with her friends, Quinn hadn’t hesitated before offering to drive her there , despite the fact that he has been in the middle of playing video games with his own friends.

He had hauled his ass off the couch, grabbed his car Keys and practically ran to catch up with her speedy steps.

Eyeing him warily as he Unlocked his car , then held open her door and stepped back, waving his hand at her to get inside.

"You don't have to . I could have gotten the bus." She muttered utterly confused to why he was suddenly offering his services like this.

He didn't like driving anyone anywhere and she knew it. That's why she had never asked for a ride.

Quinn got into the drivers seat, started the car before simply shrugging his shoulders casually as though his cheeks weren’t a bright pink.

"it's not big deal. I wasn't doing anything anyways ." He lied.

Cherrie played with the ends of her hair , side eyeing him as she watched him place his hand at the back of her head rest , looking between their seats as he backed out of the car park.

Making her Inhale a little too sharply as she eyed his tense bicep and focused face, sinking further down on her seat. Wondering how he could look so good in a matching sweatshirt and sweatpants , scruff and all.

She wondered if she was having some sort of crisis because now all she could think about was how hot Quinn really was. A thought that she had desperately tried to never remind herself of.

But it was hard to do when he was suddenly being so nice to her , cooking her food and driving her places just because he wanted to.

She felt her heart soften. And hated it. Because what the actual fuck?

"You were playing games with your friends ." She tried to argue . Feeling a little bad that he had jumped up after her, not even giving any excuses to them. Something he would no doubt be getting rinsed about later.

Quinn looked over at her briefly , admiring the glitter around her eyes , before looking back at the road with a heavy exhale .

“Yeah well. That can wait. I like your dress." He suddenly told her. Changing the subject abruptly.

She glanced down at her little black dress and smiled a little , feeling her cheeks flush . Not used to Quinn complimenting her like this.

It felt nice. The giddy feeling in her stomach Letting know that she wasn't as immune to Quinn as she likes to make herself believe.

"Thanks. I'm er-I'll try to be quieter coming in tonight. I probably won't get back till after midnight." She told him quietly.

Recalling how pissed off he had been the last time that she had woken him up after one of her nights out , drunkenly crashing into the coat stand and managing to knock everything over in the process.

This time, Quinn just shook his head with a soft hum.

Hesitating for a moment before mumbling "I can pick you up too. I don't want you taking the bus home while drunk." As he pulled up outside the bar that she always went to with her friends.

Warily eyeing a group of young guys laughing outside of it, hoping that none of them caught her eye. His heart couldn’t take much more.

Unbuckling herself , she shook her head quickly "oh no. I'll just get an Uber-"

Rolling his eyes at her stubbornness to accept his help , he sighed loudly . Looking at her with a raised brow "Cherrie. Please just let me pick you up? I won't sleep knowing you’re out anyways." He said Honestly .

He never did. His body only ever relaxed when he knew she was safe and at home with him.

Surprised , she slowly nodded her head in acceptance . Smiling a little unsurely at him "okay. If you're sure.."

He smiled back at her gently , exhaling a light laugh at how out of place she looked then. Looking at him like she had never even met him before. He winced to himself and wondered guilty just how much of a jackass he had accidentally been to her lately out of his own jealousy. Realising that in an effort to not let her know just what she meant to him, he had pushed her away. Something he had never wanted to do.

But he was trying now. This was him trying. He was going to make up for it all. He swore.

"I am. Text me when you're ready to come home alright?" He said lowly . Reaching over to fix the strap of her dress back into place gently before moving back again before she could even blink .

Cherrie exhaled shakily , nodded her head and pulled open the door. Slowly getting out "alright." She agreed . Still in shock by how nice he was being towards her now.

All she could think was as she walked to the bar door, glancing ober her shoulder to see Quinn still waiting to see her though the door, only pulling off when she was safe inside. Was.

She could get used to this.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time he picked her back up from the bar, chuckling a little to himself at how drunk she was . Practically throwing herself into her seat, heels quickly disregarded as she grinned over at him happily.

Quinn laughing quietly as she suddenly reached over to squeeze his cheeks between her hand, squishing his lips together as she giggled at him. Pinching his pink cheeks gently .

“I was thinking about you." She blurted out , leaning forward to slap a kiss to the end of his nose before pulling away.

Casually leaning back into her seat like she hadn't just flipped his heart around, Quinn flushing red as he buckled her in. Laughing a little shyly , skin tingly from her fingertips. Shocked by the sudden touch.

"Yeah?" He turned on the car , then reached back with one hand to hand her his sweatshirt, a bottle of water and then a McDonald box. Grinning at the look on her pretty face.

Cherrie gasped loudly , beaming at him as she threw on his sweatshirt without a single complaint. Digging straight into the fries , looking over at him with wide eyes. Glossy and dazed. Like he was her saviour.

"Dude..." she breathed out in amazement "I can't believe you got me McDonalds. That's so nice." She spoke around a mouthful of fries. Never taking her eyes off him.

“And you look so pretty. Why?" She spoke her mind. Drunk and not having a filter at all.

Quinn laughed bashfully , stomach fluttering from her sweet words. He scratched at his jaw awkwardly "I knew you'd be hungry. And I don't.. look pretty." He mumbled shyly .

Heart pounding in his chest as he briefly glanced over at her at the stop light, taken by the sight of her drunk, in his sweatshirt and smiling at him like he had made her whole night.

She had made his. He smiled to himself , chewing on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from giggling like a lovesick idiot at how soft she made him feel.

She giggled and offered him a fry, holding it in front of his mouth as he quickly leaned forward and took it from her fingers with his teeth. Muttering a small thanks as he did so.

"You do." She insisted , leaning over to feed him another one.

Tapping her finger up against his pouty lip after she did , eyes locked on his mouth as he swallowed. Nervously side eyeing her , his cheeks a pretty red.

"Do you remember what you told me the first time that frat bro broke my heart?" She suddenly asked him, finally pulling her hand away.

Crossing her legs beneath her, Quinn reached over and gently tugged down her dress as soon as he caught sight of a peek of lace. Letting out a light laugh as he tapped her thigh for a moment, squinting his eyes as he thought that far back.

"That was three years ago Cherrie. You've had like a gazillion other douchbag boyfriends since then." He commented teasingly , fingers clenching around the wheel as he forced himself to keep his hands to himself .

No matter how adorable he y she looked in his sweatshirt , dress peeking out the bottom, hair a mess and mascara smudged beneath her eyes as she gobbled down her burger like a little gremlin.

Mouth full of burger , she grumbled "not that many." Swallowing her bite, she looked at the raised judgmental brow her gave her and sighed loudly "fine that many. But the first time I cried in front of you.."

Quinn groaned at the bittersweet memory , heart clenching as he remembered the way her big eyes had filled with tears as she sobbed into his chest after finding her boyfriend fucking another girl at a party .

Quinn remembered her crying , reminded talking her to sleep. He also remembered hauling his ass over to the party to beat the guys face in. His knuckles had aches for a week after that.

Not that she knew about it. That was something he swore his brother and friends to keep hush about .

"I told you that he wasn't worth your tears and that you deserved someone that made you happy." He remembered then, softly repeating the words that still stood true now.

Cherrie hummed quietly .

Nodding her head as she glanced over at him, yawning as she finished her burger. Gaze lingering on the healing scab on his nose from his last injury , she sighed quietly.

"This has made me happy." She told him softly , tugging her hands into the sleeve of his sweatshirt , watching the colour bloom across his face at her words.

He chuckled a little , heart beating a little faster as he spared her a quick glance. "Yeah? Which part? McDonald's or the sweatshirt that I'm never getting back now?" He teased lightly.  Pride filling him that he had put that smile on her face.

Just Him. Nobody else. It felt nice.

Cherrie just shrugged lightly as they pulled back up to their apartment block "all of it. Thanks Q."

Not even ten minutes later , a drunk and confused Cherrie was bursting into Trevors bedroom , startling him awake with a scared gasp. Eyes going wide as he gaped up at her, watching her pace in front of his bed with a strange look on her face.

"What the fuck? Are you on drugs?!" He exclaimed quietly , mindful of the fact that it was three o'clock in the fucking morning .

He sent her a tired glare. Hand over his racing heart as he cursed her out.

She just sighed dramatically and placed her hands on her flaming cheeks , concerned with how she suddenly felt .

“Somethings wrong." She said worriedly "Quinn is being nice to me all the time. Why is he being so nice?" She demanded to know.

Trevor just snorted a little in amusement , before yawning.

“He's always been a little extra nice to you." He replied. Cause it was true.

Cherrie wasn't having it. Shaking her head with a deep frown on her face "not like this!" She denied quickly .

"he's-hes like doing everything for me and-he keeps making me breakfast and driving me everywhere. And he keeps smiling at me and complimenting me and-"

Trevor cut her off with a small smirk , smugness filling him as he realised that his plan was actually working. She was noticing Quinn's efforts.

Plan 'boyfriend' was a total success.

He knew it. Call him love guru now.

"Why do you think he is?" He asked her , trying to work reverse psychology on her. But he forgot who he was dealing with here.

Haunted by a long list of asshole ex boyfriends , she grimaced worriedly "is he mad at me or something?" She wondered out loud "like is he trying to lure me into a false sense of security before he gets his revenge?"

Trevor was horrified, gaping up at his poor friend in disbelief. Genuinely concerned .

“Jesus Cherrie! You need to stop dating these psychos! Holy shit!" He exclaimed shocked , rubbing at his face stressfully.

“So what if he's being nice? You like it right?" He said.

Cherrie slowly nodded her head, looking off to the side as a grin slowly pulled at her lips without her even realising it.

"yeah I mean-" she trailed off with a little sigh, picturing the way he had whispered goodnight to her as he dropped her off to her room. Kissing her cheek and promising to get her a really greasy breakfast for her hangover in the morning.

What a turn on.

"He's got a nice smile hasn't he?" She mumbled , fiddling with the ends of her hair as she pictured it. Crooked and uneven .

So cute. She sighed dreamily without even realising it.

Trevor smirked to himself and tried not to fist bump the air in front of him. Fighting back a smug giggle.

I'm a fucking Cupid’s angel . He thought proudly . Quinn better make me best man at their wedding . Cause otherwise he would still be pining from afar  while she got her heartbroken every other month.

It became a pattern after that. Cherrie arriving home after work to find a new vase of flowers on her bedside table every Friday , alongside some candy or some of her favourite food whenever he knew she needed the extra kick me up.

She started going to more of his games, wearing his jersey and cheering him on. Waiting for him by his car, getting dinner together each time they won. Or just lazying out on the couch playing some rather violent video games if they didn't. But Quinn still wanted to be by her side.

He texted her in the mornings. He checked in on her during the day, making sure that she was okay. Sending her stupid jokes and memes that he knew she would like, sending her cat videos that he found (spent hours collecting for times like these) . FaceTiming her when he was at away games and missing her. Which was always.

Then he started travelling home with her, then met her father and started going golfing with him while her mother fussed over him and kept giving her daughter knowing looks .

Cherrie just looking amusedly confused as she watched him easily fit into her crazy family , so much so that he went out to guys night with her brothers who had hated every other guy that she had brought home.

But they loved Quinn. They all did and she was filled with a strange , overwhelming feeling in her chest when she came into the front room one morning to see Quinn laughing over the phone with her dad, both of them talking shit about some Golfing enemies they had thrashed that weekend .

Her father had once hit an ex boyfriend of hers with a golf club. Ran over another one with the wheel of a golf buggy. So this was rather shocking sight for her to see him being so friendly with Quinn.

But it was different this time she guessed. Because Quinn wasn't her boyfriend. But sometimes  it felt like he was. And recognising the butterflies making house in her stomach , she recognised the racing of her heart whenever he nudged her shoulder and whispered some lame joke in her ear just to see her smile.

She finally saw the signs.

She noticed the way Quinn always looked for her first in every room, the way he would keep looking over at her when they held party's to make sure that she was still okay.

She noticed the way he smiled when she did, the way he went out of his way to be near her. Even coming along to the dentist with her, claiming that he was 'bored'. But she knew that he just wanted to take care of her .

It was the way he automatically reached for her hand when they went to cross a road , the way he refused to let anyone else buy her drinks at the bar. guarding her drink with his life when she went to dance or to the toilet. Glaring down any guy that even so much as looked at it or her wrongly.

She saw it now and she felt it right through. And she felt so fucking stupid that it had taken her this long to see what was right in front of her the whole damn time.

So when they sat in their favourite bar, watching a game on the tv while they waited for their friends to arrive .

And then when a cute guy, usually her type, walked over and asked her if she wanted to join him and if he could buy her a drink or get her number . For the first time in her life she turned the guy down politely , and didn't feel any regret.

Glancing over at Quinn to see his eyes down to the wooden bar top, his brows furrowed as he fiddled with the label on his beer , no longer focused on her. No longer smiling.

She walked away from the guy and sat down beside him again, nudging Quinn arm gently when he still didn't look up.

“You okay?" She asked him softly , concerned by the sudden change in his demeanour .

Quinn just mumbled something she couldn't hear, making her frown. "Huh?" She leant her head down , trying to catch his gaze.

He gave her it for a split second , catching her eye before looking away just as quick.

“I'm fine." He mumbled , "I just -you haven't been on a date in a while. I think this might have been the longest you've been single." He muttered .

Refusing to look at her. Heart squeezing in his chest as he glanced across the bar to see the guy she had been talking to occasionally glancing over at her, exactly the type of guy she went for.

Everything he wasn't.

Cherrie laughed a little, swallowing thickly as she realised that he was right . Knowing exactly why she hadn't even thought of moving on to another guy too.

"yeah. I mean-" she inhaled trying to find the right words to say and failing "I don't want to go through any of that shit again anyway. No more wasting time with the wrong guy." She looked at him , hoping he'd understand.

Quinn slowly turned his hand , brows furrowing in confusion .

“You didn't-" he glanced back over at the guy before looking back at her "you didn't give him your number?" He breathed out, shoulders tense with fear.

Cherrie shook her head and watched the way he exhaled , his shoulders relaxing again. Finally looking her in the eye, relief flowing from his body.

He wasn't exactly subtle. She wondered how she had missed the signs for so long.

But she had never been very smart when it came to love. A little stupid, a little naive. But she got it now.

And hopefully it wasn't too late.

"I didn't." She said and watched him smile a little to himself "no more tears for you to wipe away ." She joked lamely .

Quinn just laughed in relief "yeah. Yeah. I never did like to see you cry."

And that was how Cherrie found herself , the following night , standing in front of Quinn's room with flowers in her hand , knocking on his door gently . Taking in a deep breath to gather her courage , telling herself that she could do this.

When Quinn opened his door, he froze.

Eyes darting down to the flowers in her hand , then back up to her, taking in her pretty dress and perfect makeup. Her red lips and hopeful eyes.

He didn't dare to breath , hope was a dangerous thing after all.

"What-" he hesitated for a moment too long , shocked at the sight in front of him. He swallowed thickly .

"are you going on a date?" He fucking hoped not. He would cry.

If she had come to his door to show off her flowers and let him see how beautiful she looked for another man, Quinn didn't think his heart could take it. Not anymore.

Cherrie gently shook her head , laughing a little

Nervously as she shuffled awkwardly on feet. "

“Can I come in?" She asked him quietly , knowing for a fact that Trevor was somewhere listening in. He had been smirking at her since the moment she came home with flowers and found her nervously mutttering to herself around the apartment.

He knew. She knew. Quinn was the only one that didn't. But he was about to.

He pulled open his door and let her in, gently closing it behind her as he warily watched her stand in front of his bed , his eyes widening in disbelief when she suddenly thrust out the flowers to him, laughing nervously. Flushed.

"There for you." She told him quietly , watching him carefully take the flowers from her hands.

Looking down at them with parted lips, his breath hitching as he dared to peer back over at her. Chewing on his bottom lip. Heart racing in his chest.

"Cherrie-is this-" he looked at her hopefully "what's going on?" He wanted to know. Didn't want to get his hopes up. But he didn't have to worry about his heart breaking because she was about to make it all better .

Finally.

Taking a deep breath , she spoke calmly "Quinn?"

He exhaled just as nervously , gently setting aside the flowers on his bed as he slowly moved closer to her. "Yeah?"

"Can I date you?" She bluntly asked him. Deciding not to beat around the bush. She just wanted him

Now. Sick of wasting so much time. Three, nearly four fucking years of hurt, of pining , of disappointment and pain. And it had finally come down to this.

And all Cherrie could realise then was as she looked a blushing , wide eyed Quinn hesitantly standing in front of , sweet and kind and so fucking pretty , was that it should have been him all along.

It had been really . She was just so fucking stupid for chasing fake love in strangers when she had the real thing right here in front of her all along.

Quinn felt his ears ring , heartbeat in his mouth as he gaped at her in disbelief .

“What?" He choked out a nervous laugh. Swallowing thickly . "are you serious or are you fucking with me?" He Honeslty felt a little like he could faint then. Breaking out in a anxious sweat as he gaped down at her.

Cherrie just giggled and placed her hand on his bicep , squeezing gently as she moved closer to him, peering up at him through her lashes deliberately .

"I'm not fucking with you, I want to fuck you but thats different." She slyly muttered. Taking the chance now that she finally knew she had it.

Quinn gently placed his hands on her hips , inhaling deeply through his nose as he tried to push away his shock to speak clearly .

Cheeks on fire as he mumbled "you can. Do that." Hardly able to meet her eye. Feeling like he was dreaming.

Cherrie beamed up at him , cupping his cheeks in her hands firmly . Giving them a little loving squeeze as she tried not to squeal in excitement .

"you'll be my boyfriend ? Seriously?" She double checked .

Biting down on her bottom lip to try and contain her happiness. But it shone through. It was unstoppable . Just like his love for her.

Quinn laughed sheepishly , gently nudging her nose with his own as he admitted to her shyly "I've er-kind of been acting like your boyfriend all along Cherrie. I was trying to get you to notice.. giving you the boyfriend experience I guess..”

Cherrie eyes widened , both embarrassed that she was so fucking oblivious and just overwhelmed with love that she felt for him.

Because he had never given up on her. Not once.

He had waited. And she had never felt happier than she did in that moment . And she knew that this was it.

So she kissed him.

Hands cupping his jaw as she tugged him close , free hand tangling in his hair as she gently tugged at the strands until he was moaning lowly against her mouth. Kissing her back just as firmly , just as relieved as he tasted the taste of her mouth on his tongue .

Titling his head to deepen the kiss, his nose nudging against her own, he laughed breathlessly against her mouth.

Pulling away just enough to let her know "I love you." Before Kissing the sides of her mouth too, then her chin. And then all across her beautiful face , grinning widely against her cheekbone as she giggled and embraced him, arms sliding sound his neck to hold him there.

"Fuck me. I love you." She said it like it was something she had always said. And maybe it should have been. Because Quinn had always been right there. Waiting for her to notice him.

And she did now. She noticed the way his cheeks flushed red as he traced soft circles into her cheekbone with his thumbs , gazing down at her like she was his god.

She noticed the way his kiss lingered on her lips , the way he sighed so softly and sagged against her in relief , letting her hold him. Trusting her with himself . Letting her pull him close and whisper how much she needed him, how she was never going to look away from him ever again.

And Quinn. Wrapped up in her love , lips swollen from her kisses. Realised that for the first time ever , Trevor was actually right.

His plan had worked.

He got the girl.

God. He thought with a dazed grin against her neck as she pulled him down to the bed , losing his breath as he looked down at her beneath him. Still in disbelief that this was real. That this was actually happening.

Trevor was never going to let this go. He was going to be even more insufferable than he already was when he found out .

But it was totally worth it, he thought with a dazed grin as she roughly tugged his shirt off , tearing it off impatiently when it didn’t come off quick enough. kissing every inch of his skin that she could reach with her mouth , sucking and biting her name into his skin until he was a panting mess beneath her .

Until they are both naked and both together , till she was taking control and pinning his hands above his head as she slipped her tongue into his mouth confidently . Riding him like she was his cowboy , his head thrown back in bliss as he moaned so loudly , so shamelessly as she fucked him like she was in love. Like she knew she had all of him. Like she knew that this was the rest of their lives.

And between the pants, the moans and the shrill screams of pleasure. Quinn just knew that there would be no keeping their love a secret. Because Trevor and their poor neighbours definitely heard him scream her name as she made him see heaven.

It was never subtle at all. Never had been and never would be. But he didn’t have it in him to care at all because he had wanted this for so long .

All it took was for him to give her a bit of the boyfriend experience for her to realise that he was the one. That he had been there waiting for her all along.

And if this , he is he’s breathlessly up at the ceiling in a daze as she buried her face into his neck with a low moan, biting underneath his jaw until he was groaning her neck , his cock buried deep inside her as she rocked his world. If this was the just the beginning of her girlfriend experience, then he couldn’t wait for the rest of his life with her. Excitement , desire and love filling him , mind , body and pure fucking soul.

And It only took forever. But That wasn't long at all.

#quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #ice hockey oneshot #ice hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey fic

[h3k3t]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙

❥ 𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉: ɴᴏ ❥ 𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ɢᴏʀᴛᴀꜱʜ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛ ʜᴇ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀʟʟꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴠᴇɴᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʜɪꜱ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. ❥ 𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: ᴇɴᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏʀᴛᴀꜱʜ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴅᴀʀᴋᴜʀɢᴇ // ᴇɴᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏʀᴛᴀꜱʜ x ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ❥ 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: ​🇦​​🇳​​🇬​​🇸​​🇹​ ❥ 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘/𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: ɴᴏ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ (ꜱᴏʀʀʏ), ɪᴛᴀʟɪᴄɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴀɢʀᴀᴘʜꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰʟᴀꜱʜʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ ɪɴᴛᴀᴋᴇ, Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴀᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴛɪᴍɪᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ɢᴏʀᴛᴀꜱʜ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ

Night had fallen on the city of Baldur’s Gate, and though darkness now draped the sky, the narrow streets of the city began to light up with the stars: inns, small taverns where the modest workers went to spend an evening drinking a pint of cheap beer, playing dice with friends or getting lost among the breasts of some curvy whore; the windows of modest apartments, climbing in the stone and concrete structures of the city were open, an attentive ear could hear the screams and shouts of children, the sound of plates filling with boiling soup or falling into a thousand pieces on the floor followed by the angry barks of the mothers or the gasps of a clumsy young housewife. In the narrow blind alleys there were dull sounds of fists and moans of pain, smell of blood and piss, while a thief escapes with his dirty hands and a few piles of gold coins that he had just taken off the corpse of a corpulent squire whose name nobody will remember. This was the beating heart that beat alive in the city of Baldur’s Gate, life flowed and ceased with the speed of a breath, today you were there, tomorrow…only fate and the gods would know.

The door to a bedroom opened, slightly startling a couple of servants busy preparing the bed for the night. Their silent and tense gazes were aimed at the figure of their master, who simply said: "Out. I want to be alone" and that was enough to make them run away as fast as feathers in the wind. The man let out a long sigh, the last echoes in the corridors finally being silenced as he closed the door, his shoulders slumping, his stance becoming softer as he strode unhurriedly towards a dresser where he stood. a mirror. Enver Gortash looked in the mirror and with disappointment observed the reflection of his face: the portrait of tiredness, of a man who moved forward by inertia and pure survival instinct. It had never bothered him to surround himself with pompous and boring squires, organize meetings and, when necessary, parties or banquets to forge political and commercial alliances; No, Enver Gortash was a man who never took his eyes off his goals, and if he had to walk through shit, Gods, he would do it with his head held high and without looking anywhere else but towards the horizon. But in the last period something began to weigh him down, making the voices of his subordinates and his allies excessively loud and echoing while he held conversations, when instead it was only a strange buzz infesting his ears and then he sought comfort in the noise, and the cycle began again like this every day. The man had often found himself excessively disinterested, so much so that he wondered what the hell he had talked about for an entire hour with that nobody in front of him, realizing that he had simply observed them without any glimmer of attention. A weight was added to the inattention, initially metaphorical, then he would have sworn that at times he felt his heart becoming as heavy as armor and descending to the underworld, taking him back to the House of Hope…then he understood, he understood what was gripping him so much that weeks and Gods...Gods! The anger was so great that Bane's favorite follower had been tempted to blaspheme even against the same divinity that had raised him from the sea of mud and fire where he had lived, but in which in his adolescence he had learned the greatest pain and exhausting that can kill a man more than death itself: Loneliness.

The man clenched his jaw, while his calloused hands adorned with his gold gauntlets rested wide on the wooden and lacquered surface of the chest of drawer, a vain attempt to support himself and prevent his heart from falling into hell again that evening. He closed his eyes and lowered his head like a prisoner ready for the executioner's blade that would cut off his head, and with extreme punctuality the pain came, hitting him in the chest and then in the head filling it with a myriad of dangerous emotions: sadness, anger, pain, regret, remorse and then resentment and then anger again, and anger again, a blazing fire that squeezed his throat and then burned it, while his fingers closed into fists, scratching the chest of drawer with the tips of the golden claws…emotions all triggered by lack, and the lack was born from a feeling that Gortash was certain he had eradicated root and trunk from his soul: Love. And just as darkly as the clouds were blotting out the moonlight over Baldur's Gate, an almost primal scream escaped Gortash's mouth as he slammed his hand into the chest of drawers, and then with both he mowed away every piece of paper and object carefully placed on it, causing it to spill to the floor and every single noise to echo in that damned room that had now become too big and too empty for him. The man breathed deeply to suppress the beast within him, hidden by the layers of the mask he had created for years as he climbed the ranks of society. Lord Enver Gortash, a man of charisma and stubbornness, cunning and ruthless with those who were no more useful in the design of the great plan than him. No…the truth was that now he couldn't look at his real self in the mirror, the real him, the scared, lonely child he had always been and would be until he died. Enver Gortash was not afraid of hell, he had already been there; His greatest fear was being alone again now that he understood what it felt like to feel less different and twisted in those dangerous lands he now called home.

The man brought the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to the bridge of his contracted nose in a displeased expression, breathed again, and when he reopened his eyes he looked at the mess he had made around him, he sighed, disappointed in himself and his lack of control, but then he remembered that this was his room and no one other than him was present to observe and judge him. His dark tired eyes fell on a small metal object, hidden among the various fallen paperwork and the inkwell knocked over on the ground together with the pen. The invoice was recognizable to him at a glance, as he crouched down to take it and observe it with intensity. Crafted in his Steel Watch, what he held in his hand could have been mistaken for a high-class woman's elegant compact, sure, if one hadn't noticed the peculiar pair of buttons on the back of the object no smaller than the palm of his hand.

He watched it, watched it for what seemed like a good minute, then got up and took it with him as he sat down in one of the armchairs near the already lit fireplace. He prepared a full glass of his favorite liqueur, that night he needed it to be able to survive and gain a few hours of sleep in peace without voices in his head. He undid his shirt and carelessly threw his coat to the ground, while his gold gauntlets were abandoned on the same table where there was the crystal vial full of liquor and the glass half full. He took a deep sip, contracting the muscles of his face from the fire that ran down his esophagus into his stomach, and immediately felt the pain shooting through him slightly. His attention shifted again to the small object, a contraption, a prototype that he was working on, but he wasn't sure he would create a patent for it…it was still too crude, he always said. Yet he hadn't resisted that day, he was dying to show her, to share that silly little invention of his with the nearest and dearest. He took another sip, while with a long breath he closed his eyes trying to find the courage to press that button, while the memories of him assailed him. Without wanting to, he tightened his grip on the object, as if he was looking for a hand to help him save himself from that painful fall, but then his palm quickly extended, for fear of breaking even that thing which was so insignificant for him until a few weeks ago, but that now, for Gods' sake, he would kill someone with his bare hands if it broke.

He looked at it a little longer and licking his lips nervously, he cursed himself and before fear blocked him again he pushed one of the two buttons on the back of the device.

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ?" a female voice registered inside him, he said, while a distant mechanical noise made it clear that he was turning the object in his hands.

“ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴛʏᴘᴇ…ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɴᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ” Gortash's voice echoed in the distance from that thing.

“ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ…” the female voice said confused, pretending to be impassive. There was a moment of silence. “ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ? ᴏʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢ?"

Gortash smiled wistfully as he listened.

“ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅᴇʀ” he replied distantly, satisfied when she couldn't understand what her inventions were for and he had to explain them to her.

An amused laugh escaped the girl. “…ᴀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ?”

“ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴɴᴀʟꜱ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʙᴜʀɴᴇᴅ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢꜱ, ᴀ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʟᴏꜱᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴄᴜʟᴘᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ʀᴜɪɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʀᴀɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴅ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ…” Gortash explained “ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ɪꜰ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪᴍᴘʀɪꜱᴏɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ. ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ"

There was another chuckle from the girl, this time in disbelief. “ɴᴏ...ɪᴛ'ꜱ…ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɪᴍᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ” she said uncertainly.

"ᴏʜ…ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴏꜰ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜰᴀɪᴛʜ" Gortash said confidently. “ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɴᴏᴡ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ…ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴛʏ?” his tone was ironic and teasing, but the girl remained silent thinking about it.

“ᴜᴍ…ɪ ᴀᴍ ʙʜᴀᴀʟ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ. ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙʜᴀᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ—” but she was interrupted by Gortash who seemed almost exasperated by her.

“ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅꜱ, ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ, ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙʜᴀᴀʟ” he said but not reproachfully “ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ. ꜱᴏ ꜱᴀʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ" There was a moment of silence and then a sigh from the girl before speaking again.

“ɪ'ᴍ ʟᴀɴᴏʀ…ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟᴀɴᴏʀ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴀ ʜᴀʟꜰ-ᴇʟꜰ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴇᴅ ᴛɪᴘꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ" there was a laugh from both of them, a little embarrassed and then more spontaneous.

Gortash smiled wistfully in his chair. Lanor…His Lanor. Not even the most powerful curse or spell in all of Faerûn would make him forget the face of the woman for whom he would burn the whole world if necessary, and the only one in all his sad and turbulent existence who seemed to understand him, completely, having managed to slip with the same fluidity of a drop of water into the cracks of his adamantium armor and watered the arid field that had become his heart…if he had ever had one before.

“ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ? ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ?” his recorded voice asked.

“ᴏʜ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ, ᴇɴᴠᴇʀ. ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅʟɪɴɢ ꜱᴘᴇᴇᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ…ɪ'ᴍ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴀʙᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ" the girl said, huffing impatiently.

“ᴏʜ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ…ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ” Gortash's voice came closer and there was what sounded like a kiss on the lips “ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴋɪʟʟ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ…” there was a moment of silence as if he had been holding back from saying something totally sinful “ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍɪʟʏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴜʟʟ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʙ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ. ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ"

“ɴᴏ…ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ” the girl said almost immediately “ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ…ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ" she whispered and for a moment there was silence.

Gortash stared into space for a long moment and the pain didn't take long to arrive, like a dart in his chest, while he still remembered the taste of the half-elf's lips when she had kissed him with an almost disarming delicacy, compared to the many times in which he they were indulged in nasty and lustful nights, when they seemed to eat each other while exchanging kisses and caresses. He remembered her beautiful eyes, adorned with heavy dark crimson makeup, smeared just enough to make her look sensual and lethal, as if she had painted her pale face with the blood of her enemies. He remembered the calloused pad of his thumb caressing the contours of her colorless, chapped lips, engraved with some strange ritual scars with a runic and grotesque appearance. He remembered that strange glimmer of restlessness, in her usual impassive and fearless attitude, something that night was disturbing her…

Gortash took another large gulp of liquor, groaning at the instant burning in his throat, in a vain attempt to drown out his guilt. He turned the device back on, pushing the button, playing the recording a second time, as if he didn't want to remember what happened next.

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ?" “ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴛʏᴘᴇ…ᴀ ɴᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ” “ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ…ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ? ᴏʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢ?"

But even as the man tried to escape his demons, the voices on the recording overlapped with those in his head.

“Do you really have to go?” Lanor asked, uncertainty mingling with her mask of callousness. Gortash didn't seem to get it.

“How eager…It's rare to see you so in need of my company, dearest” he said with an almost mocking chuckle, as he caressed her pale cheek with his golden knuckles, before heading to take his coat and place the device elsewhere. Lanor seemed really disappointed by that answer, but once again, Gortash was too busy to notice. "Unfortunately I just can't leave my guests alone, this evening is decisive, I may have the consent of one of the richest families in Baldur's Gate…If I succeed, my ascension will be imminent and the Ravengard will finally be out of the picture."

“…I see” she replied, biting the inside of her cheek, then sighed, her impassive, disinterested façade returning to her place. She would have to fend for herself like she always had, before she met Gortash.

“So, shall we meet up later? There are some things I would still like to…discuss with you,” Gortash said as he headed towards the exit. Lanor seemed lost in thought, she blinked several times and then turned to him and said: “Fine, don't be late”

Gortash tightened his hand around the mechanical object as he operated it a third time, closing his eyes, now red and irritated, perhaps from tears, perhaps from the heat of the fireplace, perhaps from the strong taste of the liquor…he no longer knew, his senses were becoming blurrier, his vision less clear, as he took another sip and restarted the recording for the third time.

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ?" “ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴛʏᴘᴇ…ᴀ ɴᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ” “ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ…ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ? ᴏʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢ?"… … … …

Lanor never arrived at Gortash's office, he waited until late at night for her, with a sad and confused grimace framing his slightly wrinkled and tired face. She was always on time, usually he was the one who was late… He thought that perhaps something had kept her in the Bhaal temple, after all she was the chosen one, surely there was a logical explanation for everything. They would meet in the morning, as usual, Lanor would come to him, as always, entering through the window like a stray cat, covered in blood perhaps, and her gaze full of adrenaline oxymorized by her detached and cold attitude. 

No, she didn't show up that morning either, nor the following morning, she had disappeared…as if she had never existed.

“ᴇɴᴠᴇʀ…” Lanor's voice echoed weakly and uncertainly from the mechanical contraption “…ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ, ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪ ᴘʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴏɴ” there was a moment of hesitation and then a sigh:

“ꜱʜᴇ ɪꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇɴᴠᴇʀ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ…ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ. ɪ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀʀɴ ʏᴏᴜ…ʜᴏᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢʀᴀꜱᴘ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ…ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜꜱʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀꜱᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴘʟᴀɴ.”

There was another silence, and for a moment it seemed as if Lanor was struggling to keep her voice steady, as if her fear were eating her, like a mouse knowing it had no escape.

“ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪғ ɪ'ʟʟ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇᴛʜɪs ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪғ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴍᴇ. ₭łⱠⱠ ₥Ɇ ł₦₴₮₳₦₮ⱠɎ! sʜᴇ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ! ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ…" now the girl's tense breathing could be heard, she was in a hurry to leave, time was running out "ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ…ʙᴇ ᴡᴀʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟʟʏ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘʟᴀɴ ɪꜱ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀɴᴅ…ʙᴀɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʜᴀᴀʟ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴡᴏ ɢᴏᴅꜱ...”

The recording then ended abruptly. A message for help, before she mysteriously disappeared who knows where, perhaps dead, perhaps still alive, who knew… But if Lanor was still breathing, why hadn't she returned to him? Why this silence? Why all this?! These questions would not have received an answer, just as that message would not have received an answer, Gortash had already lost consciousness long before. His brain had turned off, drowned by alcohol, and crushed by tiredness and remorse, sitting in his armchair, while the small tape recorder lay on the floor, under his hand dangling from the armrest.

#enver gortash #enver gortash x dark urge #enver gortash x tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #angst #one shot #heket works

[isthlsfate]

*ೃ༄ Let Me Down Slowly

warnings: mild language, use of the word “colored”, implied smut, toxic relationship, yandere!elvis

pairing: 70s elvis presley/austin!elvis x black reader

word count: 1.6k+

her sobs echoed in the dark hotel room, shoulders violently shaking as she let out years of bottled up pain and sorrow.

she had reached her breaking point.

for the past eight years, she had endured all the drama that came with marrying america’s beloved elvis presley.

despite the termination of the jim crow laws in ‘65, their marriage in ‘68 would split his fanbase in half.

many of them were just plain disappointed that he was officially off the market.

others were so disgusted that out of all the women in the world, he had chosen her. a colored woman.

in the early stages it was okay. she could handle the rude comments being thrown at her because she had elvis right by her side through it.

at the end of a hectic and busy day elvis would hold her tightly and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. he prided himself in that he would protect her with every piece of him.

as the years went by, however, his career started to eat him away.

some nights he’d show up in the early hours of the morning and other nights he didn’t show up at all.

she knew deep down that the changes in his behavior weren’t her fault, but any time he’d raise his voice at her she couldn’t help but ask where she’d gone wrong.

“come on now, (n/n), he didn’t mean it.” steve sat adjacent from her, his face twisted in discomfort seeing his friend in such a state. he wanted to smack the light out of elvis after what he had just witnessed.

the brown skinned girl could only cry harder at his words, her eyes running water so fast she was nearly drowning.

a knock at the door startles the both of them. steve glances over at (y/n) only to find her rushing to the bathroom.

he cracks the door open and peeks out, a frown forming on his face as he makes eye contact with the man who was truly to blame for his friend’s relationship falling apart.

“the hell do you want?”

the colonel lets out a humorless chuckle.

“elvis refuses to go on if his darling wife isn’t watching.”

“the same “darling wife” he just yelled a bunch of nonsense at?” steve looks at the old man in bewilderment, “how about you tell him stop being a fuc-“

“it’s okay, binder.” (y/n)’s voice cuts him off. he glances back at her, both amazed and unsettled by how quickly she could pull herself together.

she had changed from one of elvis’ robes into a denim jumpsuit, fixed her hair, and done up her face.

he almost couldn’t tell that she had been crying her heart out a few minutes ago.

almost.

her eyes were dull and lifeless.

steve sighs and nods, opening the door wider to let her through. he glances back at the gloomy room once more before shutting the door behind him.

𓍊𓋼𓍊

per usual, elvis performed the shit out of his show.

the international hotel had become his second home throughout the years.

once the curtains dropped, his wife couldn’t help but run to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

“you did so well, baby! i…y-you were magical out there.” she truly was proud of him, putting aside any feelings of grief she had prior.

elvis chuckles, grabbing her and giving her a sweaty kiss.

his arm remains around her waist even after he pulls away from the kiss, grip tight and possessive.

“you ready to head upstairs?” he whispers in her ear, a suggestive look in his eyes. the smile on (y/n)’s face falters for a second before she takes a deep breath and nods.

she was getting tired of this cycle.

elvis never apologized for his actions. he’d simply act as if it never happened, get her into bed with him, and do it all over again the next day.

as the two walk off the stage, steve catches her sight. he opens his mouth to interject but she raises her eyebrows at him as if to warn him not to.

he understood why (y/n) stayed; why she allowed elvis to use her whenever he pleased. it gave her a false sense of security. it gave her hope that one day he’d go back to who he used to be. steve was hopeful too, for her sake.

even still, he didn’t like it one bit.

as soon as the couple makes it to their room, elvis pushes (y/n) onto their bed. she grimaces at the roughness of it but has no time to complain as the raven haired male connects his lips with hers.

she tries to focus on the moment, tries to push aside all of the negative thoughts clouding her brain, but one particular thrust of the man’s hips sets her off.

it was harsh and possessive, like she was an object that he had control of. like she wasn’t a human with feelings.

this wasn’t love. she couldn’t keep holding on to a relationship that was far past saving.

“get off.” she mutters, bile burning in the back of her throat. elvis doesn’t seem to hear her as he continues, leaving kisses and bites along the side of her neck.

“elvis, get off!” (y/n) pushes him, “get off me!”

“whoa, what’s wrong mama?” he stumbles backwards, his blue eyes meeting her glossy ones.

she sighs and covers her bare body with the sheets, trying to fight the quiver in her lip.

“can you put your clothes on?” she looks away from him.

the sound of shuffling is heard before the bed dips beside her. elvis lies down and faces his wife, eyebrows furrowed.

“did i do somethin’ wrong, baby? i didn’t hurt you, did i?”

the tears spill over her waterline as she shakes her head in disbelief.

she almost considers not saying anything. she could just brush it off as exhaustion and fall asleep in his arms. she could keep pretending everything was alright.

“you’ve been hurtin’ me a lot lately.” her voice is thick, congestion clearly building up from her tears.

“what do ya mean by that?” the man beside her sits up, his voice accusatory.

“i mean you’ve been awful to me, elvis. you’re not the same man i fell in love with. y-you’re so angry all the time and you take it out on me. it’s exhausting.” (y/n) wipes some of her tears with the satin sheets, but its no use as more spill out, “just a couple hours ago you were screamin’ your head off at me. for what? because i asked you to take it easy? because i’m worried about your wellbeing? that old bastard is going to run you dry and you know it.”

“don’t you dare try to sit here and blame him!” she flinches at the ferocity in his voice, watching as he stands up.

“but it’s all his fault, e! we’d be okay if he neve-“

“you’d still be living with your daddy in the middle of god damned mississippi, if it weren’t for the colonel! i wouldn’t have been able to provide you with graceland, with those fancy ass clothes, hell, not even with that ring on your finger if it hadn’t been for him. so you shut the hell up complainin’!”

“i don’t want any of that shit, elvis! i want you!” (y/n) screams back, throwing a pillow at him in the process, “i want my husband back! i want our love back!”

elvis is shocked at her outburst, having never heard her use her voice in such a way.

he couldn’t believe he had pushed her to this. he promised to protect her and yet here he was tearing her apart.

“(y/n)…baby, i’m sorry.” he runs a hand through his raven colored hair, slowly making his way to her. his heart wrenches when he sees her smaller body back away.

“i needed you, e.” she cries, “i needed you all these years and i know deep down you needed me. b-but you kept pushin’ me away.”

elvis hesitantly pulls the girl into his chest, allowing her tears to soak him.

“i won’ push you away no more. i promise, baby. i promise.”

(y/n) pulls away from him abruptly, shaking her head.

“i can’t give you any more chances.”

“like hell you can’t! you’re not leavin’ me.” he tries to grab for her again but she quickly jumps out of the bed, aggressively tugging her jumpsuit back on.

elvis watches as she goes around the room, grabbing her belongings. he pleads with her, his own set of tears falling out of his eyes, but they fall on deaf ears.

“you can’t do this to me, (n/n). i said i’ll do better, is that not enough?!”

she stops in front of the door, her shoulders sinking. the wall she had built was crumbling. she needed to leave now or she wouldn’t leave at all.

without thinking she puts her stuff on the ground, steps in front of him and cups his face, pressing a long kiss to his forehead.

elvis grabs ahold of her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist so as to keep her there forever.

“you have to let me go, elvis.”

“i can’t do that, darlin’. i can’t.” he whimpers, squeezing tighter as she begins to pull away.

“yes you can. you have to.” she musters up all her strength as she makes her way to the door with the man’s grip still on her, “it’ll be okay. just let me go.”

eventually, she gets out of his hold, tears springing in her eyes at the sight of the man holding his knees to his chest as he cries for her. his sobs are so violent he begins to gag.

“you’re mine forever. you promised.” elvis says, his red rimmed eyes glaring at her, “i don’t give a damn if it takes 10 years, you will be back in my arms.”

(y/n) doesn’t respond, just picks her things up off the ground and walks away.

————

starting a general taglist! let me know if you’d like to be added :)

@munano-theprophet

#reader insert #austin!elvis x black!reader #elvis 2022 #yandere!elvis x reader #x reader #austin butler #black reader #70s

[noodleblade]

Birds of a Feather, Part 3/?

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Starscream should not have been surprised to find Laserbeak waiting outside his habsuite the following cycle. Before returning to his hab the night prior, he had directed her to do the same. The one-off instance of berth sharing was not one he was eager to repeat. While Laserbeak had seemed disappointed in this, she had not pressed and left. Starscream hoped she went back to the hab she shared with Soundwave but didn’t want to check the security camera to see if he had been proven wrong.

Whatever the case may be, he awoke to no alerts of sneaking drones in the medbay and an empty habsuite. Empty in more ways than just uninvited guests. 

Starscream sneered at his lack of furnishings. In the past, the hab had been cluttered. Skywarp had a horrible knack for collecting random bits and baubles and Thundercracker left half read datapads all about. Not to mention Starscream’s own projects had taken up any available surface. In their passing, the influx of items had stopped and within a couple of vorns, the clutter had dwindled away to the bare and empty room it now was. He had never really thought to pay attention to the current state of his hab but now that he had, his optics couldn’t help but mark all the ways it had lost any sort of life. 

It’s just a room , Starscream reminded himself bitterly as he left the hab and nearly ran into Laserbeak. 

If she sensed his bitter mood, she didn’t show it, greeting him with a chirp and bob of her helm. 

::Recharge well?::

No, he hadn’t. Like the cycle before, it had been fraught with restlessness and nightmares. His processor was eager to dig through old memory files, linking them to the ever-present grief that hung in Laserbeak’s field. 

‘That’s just sympathy, Star,’ Thundercracker’s voice echoed in his audials, followed by Skywarp’s teasing laughter, ‘ As if he knows what that is .’

Starscream scrubbed his faceplates, agitation pinching at his transformation seams. 

“I’m fine,” he spat out. 

Laserbeak whistled unbelieving but let the remark slide all the same. ::We have time to refuel and visit Soundwave before shift start.::

“Is this going to become a habit?”

Laserbeak hovered closer, optics piercing in what Starscream could only imagine as a glare. ::Until Soundwave is back.::

Starscream glared back. “I don’t have time to check on Soundwave every cycle.”

::Actually, you do.::

Following the comm, an attachment was sent showing a timetable, Starscream shift block highlighted and bookended with a refuel and a medbay check in. Starscream raised his optic ridge at this. 

“You know there aren’t going to be updates if we keep pestering Knock Out.”

Laserbeak let out an agitated burst of static. ::We need to make sure the medic stays on track.::

Starscream laughed hauntingly. Normally he would agree but, “Knock Out may exhibit bouts of lethargy and boredom but Megatron has marked Soundwave’s recovery efforts as the highest priority. Knock Out can be distracted easily but he’s hardly an idiot. He knows better than to anger our dear leader.”

Laserbeak considered this, rocking slightly in the air as she mulled it over. ::Can we still check on him?::  

There’s that ‘we’ again. The line between having Laserbeak’s loyalty and being chained to the drone was a tricky one to navigate with her turbulent emotions. He needed to remain in control, needed to keep firm just as much as he needed to concede to the cassette to get her unconditional trust. 

“Fine,” he finally muttered. “But I’m telling you, Knock Out’s not going to have any new information.”

Laserbeak didn’t seem to care, her field bursting with unrestrained gratitude. 

--

Starscream’s shift had gone without incident, mostly putting out fires and working on strategies to make sure their next run-in with the Autobots was a success. Playing clean up for the disaster that had been their last mission only allowed Starscream to analyze where everything went wrong to prevent fatal error from happening again. They couldn’t afford a repeat incident. 

His typical meeting with Megatron had been as unproductive and frustrating as ever, however, a new horrible realization had hit about halfway through the meeting as another smashed data pad was thrown, courtesy of the warlord. Without Soundwave’s subtle, quiet presence, there was no barrier between himself and Megatron and no one to put them back on track. What had been a simple issue of mining equipment repairs had derailed them into a screaming match and a sea of broken data pads and overturned chairs. 

Starscream was just happy to come out of the meeting unscathed. Even in the midst of his fury, Megatron was more than aware that having two of his High Command out of commission was a death sentence. A silver lining, he supposed, in the dark cloud that was Soundwave’s grave injury.

Agitation still rattled his frame as he stalked out of the main deck, leaving Megatron’s snarling words and his war room far behind. He paid the vehicons no mind as he marched through the wide doors. In his blinded rage, he hadn’t seen the minicon, nearly crashing into the hovering cassette for a second time that day. Thankfully, Laserbeak, much like her host, was far more observant.

The cassette dodged Starscream and hovered over his helm as the seeker glared. Starscream’s optics flared a menacing red that reflected on the mini’s smooth, slick plating. 

“What?” he snapped, unable to keep his frustrations of Megatron out of his tone.

Laserbeak made a lazy circle around him. Quiet and evaluating, another fun imitation of Soundwave. 

::You seem agitated. Perhaps a flight exercise is in order.::

Starscream stared at the minicon, optic ridges raised. He wouldn’t call it a secret that when stressed and overworked, Starscream liked to vent his frustrations with a quick fly, even if this miserable planet’s atmosphere was grating on his plating at too high an altitude. However, he didn’t think anyone had noticed, much less Laserbeak .

As if sensing his surprise, the cassette landed nimbly on his shoulder pauldron and comm’d, ::It's in your notes.::

“My what ?”

The cassette gave a nervous beep as she realized her error. She extended her wings to fly away but Starscream rested a heavy servo on Laserbeak’s back strut to keep the cassette firmly in place. 

“What notes?” Laserbeak was hesitant to respond but after an impatient tap of Starscream’s claws on her frame, she elaborated, ::Soundwave has notes on all mechs, included Starscream.::

It wasn’t surprising nor out of character for Soundwave. Starscream almost wanted to laugh at how Soundwave the action was. It was almost comforting that Soundwave’s presence still lingered on the ship despite his current inoperable status.

However, the very notion that Laserbeak was privy to this information was a little uncomfortable. Soundwave had his own thoughts and Starscream could guess they never quite framed him in the best light if their history had anything to say by it. He couldn’t imagine that as objective as Soundwave wanted to appear that his own opinions didn’t marr the notes he made of each and every mech. Even if the cassette was connected to Soundwave in a bond Starscream only vaguely understood, it unnerved him to know the biased information had seeped into the minicon’s processor. 

“Well,” Starscream drawled, “what do my notes say?”

Laserbeak gave another nervous series of beeps. ::Records indicate Commander Starscream’s mood and productivity increase with leisure flights.::

Starscream released Laserbeak and she wasted no time in taking flight to hover just out of reach from Starscream. 

“Did you take that directly?”

Laserbeak bobbed her helm in a stiff, nervous nod. 

Starscream couldn’t help the smirk that came to his faceplates. Nevermind that Soundwave had recorded him and probably had seen each and every time Starscream had snuck to the flight deck unauthorized. In truth, that was not so much a revelation but a reminder that the Third in Command watched everything and everyone. However, the very confirmation that Soundwave referred to him with his title in his notes was almost enough to dispel any lingering anger towards him. Even in the privacy of his own personal thoughts, Soundwave still was forced to acknowledge Starscream’s superiority. 

Oh, how that must grind his gears.

With a little pep in his pede, Starscream headed towards the flightdeck. Laserbeak hesitantly followed behind. Her confusion nudged against Starscream’s smug field, silently asking for a question Starscream thought left better unanswered. 

Instead, he redirected. “Following me?”

The confusion drifted off Laserbeak’s field and was replaced with a quieter, subtle admission of honesty. ::I miss flying with Soundwave. You will have to do.::

Starscream, in all his years of knowing Soundwave, had never known the mech to do anything leisurely. Then again, Starscream was beginning to realize there was quite a bit he didn’t know about Megatron’s silent shadow. In the scant few cycles since Soundwave’s fall, Starscream had learned more about the mech than he had in the last millennia they had served together. 

“Fine, whatever.” Starscream hardly cared if the minicon wanted to tag along. He wouldn’t admit the idea of not flying alone for a change was almost nice…even if he was only serving as a temporary replacement.

As they reached the flight deck, no one paid them mind. If anything, most of the crew kept their optics glued to their tasks, avoiding even looking in their direction. It suited Starscream all the same as he reached the opening of the deck, the swirl of clouds obscuring the horrid waste of a planet that lay below. 

Laserbeak was still hovering beside him, fully intent on following Starscream on this flight. Starscream let his optics drag over the little cassette’s drone form. Not exactly built for speed but if she wanted to try, so be it.

“Keep up,” was all the warning Starscream gave as he let himself fall from the platform, reveling in the rush of air that surrounded him as he dropped. Distantly, he could feel Laserbeak’s distress over the maneuver but it quickly abated as Starscream shifted into his alt and soared upward, past the flight deck and above the Nemesis. At that, the minicon took her cue to follow.

::Fancy flying.:: came Laserbeak’s comm. The attached subglyths were sarcastic in nature but Starscream could feel awe in the edges of her field as Laserbeak caught up.

::Just because your creator does everything minimally and practically, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to subject ourselves to such a dull existence.::

Starscream was surprised to receive laughter back, the minicon in agreement. 

::He is too uptight.:: she admitted, the subglyphs both fond and sorrowful. ::He needs a vacation.::

Starscream snorted derisively. ::To suggest such a thing might offline him for real.::

Laserbeak’s laugh echoed as Starscream took a sharp dive down, reveling in the wind streaming off his wings. He hadn’t been able to stretch his wings like this in a while and took the chance greedily; twisting, rolling and spinning in the air as his frustrations melted away.

::Show off.::

Starscream sneered playfully, his mood already lightening, ::Don’t be jealous. It’s unbecoming. Whatever will Soundwave think when he comes back.::

Laserbeak squawked in a loud affronted beep, but it was mostly eaten up by the wind as Starscream turned towards the sky and climbed, thrusters kicking to propel himself up, up, up. 

He continued to climb, the Nemesis and Laserbeak falling behind as he passed layer after layer of cloud cover until there was nothing left and Starscream was alone to the universe above him. The atmosphere was thin here, biting and brittle against his frame but Starscream pushed on a few nanokliks more before he cut his thrusters and forced stalled his engine. 

For one glorious moment, the universe and all of existence came still, Starscream frozen in place and time as his momentum came to a halt and gravity hadn’t quite kicked in yet. No Megatron, no war, no bitlet biting at his thrusters, no empty holes in ally’s chassis: nothing beyond the floating between flying and falling. It was so rare to find such stillness, such peace. Having it, even for a modicum of time quelled the flurry of stress in his spark.

But as quickly as it came, it was gone; time never truly stopped and pressed forward with unerring persistence. Starscream began to free-fall, the biting atmosphere rushing past him as he gained momentum and speed. He lazily engaged his engine as he turned his nose to the ground, letting gravity do the majority of work for him until the Nemesis came back in his slights. He pulled out of the dive, letting himself glide lazily around the ship. The minicon was quick to come back to his side, field awash in unrestricted delight. 

::Very reckless:: though there were no subglyphs of reprimand, rather absolutely wonder. 

::Very fun, unfortunately, not very suitable for your frame type.::  

If Laserbeak was dejected by this at all, she didn’t show it, simply content to remain close; floating on the updraft from Starscream’s wings and feeding off the unbound ease and tranquility in their intermingled fields. 

They made four lazy circles around the Nemesis before Starscream’s HUD notified him his fuel had dipped below 50%. With rations as low as they were, it would be truly a fool’s errand to deplete his levels anymore with no hope of his ration being able to compensate, not when he could be out on the field at a moment’s notice. Laserbeak must have picked up on the subtle shift in the energy and pushed their flight pattern back towards the Nemesis. 

In unison, both mechs returned to the flight deck. Starscream shifted to his root form to land on the deck elegantly. Laserbeak hovered beside him, unable to mask her admiration at the display. She circled Starscream in a buzzing sort of excitement that Starscream basked in. It had been a long time since he’d had such an… avid supporter .

:Refuel?:: Laserbeak inquired, probably noting her own lowered fuel levels. 

It was about time for their second ration so wordlessly, Starscream led the way to the refuel station.

In what had become routine, Starscream was quick to grab the two rations for himself and Laserbeak and did not linger in the mess hall. He went mostly ignored by the vehicons huddled at the various tables, but conversation once again quieted as he walked by, only to pick up when he was out of hearing range. This time, instead of ignoring it, Laserbeak inquired about it.

::Do you refuel alone every time?::

Whether the minicon intended the sting that came with the question, Starscream didn’t know. He still gritted his denta.

“I have no desire to waste my free time with scrap like them.”

::Not even the grounders.:: The subglyph of disdain was a clear indication of which grounders Laserbeak was referring to. Starscream felt the tension in his frame lighten in amusement at the cassette’s obvious dislike. 

“I don’t care much for the brute,” Starscream sneered as he reached his habsuite, keying in the entry to let them in. Laserbeak was barely able to conceal her delight in being granted entry. “But Knock Out has proven to be entertaining at the very least, if not a fine intellectual sparring partner.”

Laserbeak let out a long, drawn out beep which Starscream took as her sarcastic retort. 

“One does wonder how you fill so much hatred in such a small frame. Mass displacer? Does Soundwave know he’s fostering such an angry, grudging drone?”

Laserbeak let out the trilling, beeping laugh of hers as Starscream set one of the energon cubes on his desk for Laserbeak. He kept the one for himself in servo, sipping it as the cassette landed softly on the desk. 

::Soundwave likes my wit.::

Starscream let out a snort. Every little factoid Laserbeak slipped contradicted the emotionless, stationary mech Starscream had come to associate Soundwave with. Even his own experience could contradict this notion but it was much easier to view Soundwave as a passive bystander to the usual chaos on the Nemesis. If anything, Starscream was already aware of the hints of sass and sarcasm Soundwave exhibited every now and then. To know it went much deeper was like seeing through the cracks of his armored plating. Soundwave prided himself on being unreadable, that much was obvious. To know a few words from his precious cassette could reveal so much was gratifying. To know Starscream was now in the small number of mechs that knew this was even better. 

::Are they your friends?::

Starscream blinked, looking down to where Laserbeak was sipping her cube. It took him a moment to realize exactly whom she was referring to, the sudden shift in conversation unexpected. However, Laserbeak’s optics were bright and alert, watching curiously. 

Starscream raised an optic ridge at the minicon. It was an innocent, naive question, but Starscream could only picture Soundwave’s little notes and wondered how much value their spymaster could glean from a question like that. As much as he wanted to think of Laserbeak as a pathetic, sniveling whelp, there was no denying she was far more capable than Starscream had previously given credit for and she took after her carrier perhaps a tad too much. 

“How many Decepticons do you know that have friends?” he countered coolly. 

Laserbeak gave Starscream a long appraising look, clearly not impressed with his deflection of the topic. There was a silent point being made in the cassette’s gaze but Starscream ignored it, turning away to down the rest of his ration in one quick gulp. He barely tasted it as he emptied the cube and tossed it into the nearby receptacle. 

With no further comms coming from Laserbeak, the cassette’s attention turned to her own energon. Eager to let the conversation be forgotten, Starscream busied himself. Beside his berth were a stack of datapads he’d been pushing off reading. He probably would have continued to do so but the notion of having to face any more of Laserbeak’s pointed questions soured his tanks. He much rather diligently work than have any more spark to spark conversations for the cycle. 

He grabbed the first data pad in the stack: a mining report for Mine Beta. It was a dull read, but Starscream suspected it wouldn’t be long before he hit recharge. Between the long day, the flight, and the general mental exhaustion of having a small shadow, he suspected he’d only get through a few lines, if even.

“See yourself out. We’ll meet tomorrow,” Starscream waved off as he climbed into his berth, optics on the datapad. He trailed over the words, processor barely absorbing them. 

His request received no answer but he did hear the hab doors open and close with a soundly click.

--

There was energon everywhere, soaked into the ground beneath him and coating his plating, seeping into his transformation seams. Warm and sticky and so, so much of it. 

A pile of crumpled plating was before him, purple and blue amour in tattered, broken pieces. Dull, cracked red optics staring at nothing and everything. One helm was completely crushed, blue plating cracked down the middle to expose what little remained of a core processor. 

Ash rained down from the sky, a maelstrom of fire and destruction swirling around them like the eye of a hurricane. Burnt metal and electric fire sting his olfactory senses, optics slitting to keep themselves clear of the spinning debris. Bodies littered the battlefield, both familiar and not, but his optics were locked on the two pressed together in the center of the crater, sitting in a pool of crumbled earth and energon. 

Starscream reached for them. Square blue digits brushing against a shattered glass cockpit-

A nudge against his chin made Starscream’s optic online in an instant. 

The dark, stale air of the Nemesis greeted him. His spark had jumped up his intake as his optics darted across the ceiling of his hab. Slowly, his senses came to him in rolling waves.

There was no wasted battlefield. No bodies. No broken mechs. Slowly he raised his servos up, sharp clawed digits trembling before him. Chrome, not blue. 

::Oh good, you’re awake.::

Immediately Laserbeak’s helm filled his vision, the cassette firmly planted on his chassis. Tiny red optics stared him down.

“What are you doing here?” Starscream croaked. His vocalizer hissed, as if it had been strained. 

::You were experiencing a nightmare. I could feel your EM field outside the doors. You were crying-::

“ How- ” Starscream interrupted with a snarling hiss “-did you get in here?”

::Security override.::

Laserbeak did not remove herself from atop his chassis, rather settling in. Her tiny engine vibrated against him in a move Starscream assumed was supposed to be comforting. He wasn’t sure it achieved that, but it was disarming. At enough to stall his action in sending the cassette flying across the room. 

“Soundwave does not outrank me.”

Laserbeak was nonplussed by this. ::Megatron does.::

“ You have Megatron’s access codes?”

::Soundwave has them stored for emergencies.::

Starscream snapped his mouth shut, sinking further into his berth. 

In no way did this constitute an emergency. Even if he was in distress, there is no reason for the minicon to go so far for him. Any indignation Starscream had about Laserbeak entering his hab was conflicted by a puzzling feeling coiling around his spark. He couldn’t identify it, the emotion too foreign. He felt… exposed and there was little he could do to build his walls back up. He felt cornered, trapped. The weight of the minicon suddenly felt as if he had a tank pressing him down rather than the tiny drone.

It had just been a nightmare, a glitch in his recharge defrag sequences. It wasn’t a memory nor was it referential to an actual event. He had not been present when Skywarp and Thundercracker offlined. He had been stationed on the bridge, only able to watch their spark indications vanish from radar, their comms go silent. Whatever his processor was trying to work through, Starscream was tired of it using his dead trine as a method to do so. He’d mourned enough. 

::You are in distress.:: Laserbeak gently nudged his chin again with her helm. ::Shall I deploy relaxation protocols?::

The line of question swirled around his processor for a solid klik before he croaked out a, “What?”

In lieu of a response, Laserbeak sat up tall on his chassis. Her wings folded in, half transformed between her drone form and the stored cassette mode when she was docked in Soundwave. Faint purple biolights lit up across her frame as soft music echoed in his hab.

Starscream stared, unsure what was even happening. Laserbeak’s field was calm, pressing against Starscream’s like a blanket. The music was foreign to him. He could detect it as Cybertronian in nature but he had never found himself fond of the art. Sensing his curiosity, Laserbeak was all too happy to inform.

::A folk song from Tarn. The beats were later used in the revolution chants, though the lyrics were changed. The roots are ingrained in the working class, the rhythms free flowing and without the standardized formula that was used in the High Theaters of Iacon. The composition changed from player to player, as it was never formally recorded, but all followed roughly the same notes.::

“Why?”

::A lack of formalized education. Music was passed on from mech to mech through audial receptors rather than taught in institutions that specialized in functionality-::

“No,” Starscream interrupted again, but softer, less abrasive. “Why are you playing it?”

::Soundwave often finds comfort in music. I had hoped it would have the same effects for you. I selected a favorite of his. I have a large repertoire to select from if it is not to your taste.::

Starscream let the information sink in, offlining his optics in the process. Soundwave had always favored media based forms. Starscream could briefly remember when he had adapted to that of a music player. It should be no surprise those were rooted in a personal preference for the art form, just as Starscream’s own alt reflected his Vosian roots. 

It was another glimpse into Soundwave, perhaps one too personal to dig into further. 

::Would you like me to continue playing it?::

It was not…terrible. Actually, Starscream felt the dredge of panic melt away as his processor mapped out the notes into identifiable patterns. 

“You can keep playing it.”

Laserbeak chirped in delight, happiness blooming across her field.

::I’ll play my favorite next. It’s from Vos. You may know it.::

Starscream hummed in agreement. Thundercracker had enjoyed music, often playing it when he was working on projects in close proximity to Starscream’s own. 

Before he knew it, one melody drifted off and another one quickly took its place. The pattern repeated for several kliks, Laserbeak silently queuing up one after another. Some Starscream felt were familiar, some were completely foreign. There were some in the mix that Starscream suspected might even be Earth based, the instruments completely different than anything he’d heard before. 

He kept his optics offline as he felt himself drift off. His processor churned sluggishly, lazy. It brought up the image of Soundwave, stationed stiffly at the central console. Starscream wondered how many times the TIC had been absorbed in his secretive collection of melodies. An absurd thought flickered across his mind of Soundwave dancing , spindle arms and tentacles moving to the beat in strangely fluid motions. The vision dispelled as the next song drifted in, just as slow and soft as the first had been. 

Above him, Laserbeak settled against him, still in her half-transformed mode, but her field sleepy, melding in his own. He fell into recharge to the quiet, swaying rhythms, chassis warm and processor empty of any terrors. 

#soundstar #starscream #laserbeak #tfp #maccadam #transformers #my fics #birds of a feather

[battlekidx2]

Thanks to Them Thoughts

The first special of The Owl House’s third season recently dropped and I can say with full certainty that it hasn’t lost what made the second season so special.

I don’t think I’m in the minority when I say I was disappointed that the third season got shortened to three specials but I wanted to come in hopeful for what these specials could bring. The Owl House proved to me in its second season just how phenomenal it could be within a limited time frame with episodes like Eda’s Requiem, Knock Knock Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door, and Hollow Mind. I know that the situation is different but it’s proof just how much this show knows how to tap into the emotional core of its characters, stories, and relationships in 22 minutes.

This episode does the same thing by digging into the core of Camila, Luz, and Hunter. 

Camila is a character that had the fandom split and in my opinion received way too much hate. She was a single mother doing her best with a specific set of struggles due to the point she was in her life and the circumstances surrounding the start of the series. This episode understands that Camila loves her daughter and wants to do right by her but parenting rarely has a perfect answer. 

Camila’s choices are given more context and shown in a different light. I was already in the camp that believed Camila was a loving parent that made some mistakes because she’s only human, but this episode solidified it.

The nightmare Camila has about halfway through the episode is a poignant way to explore the concept of generational trauma and trying to break that cycle.

Luz found a community that will accept her the way she is and a place where her strengths can flourish. Once Camila has had time to grapple with the reality that Luz went to the demon realm by her own choice and she gets to see just how good this place has been for her she embraces it.

She even wants to go to the demon realm with Luz so she can be a part of that aspect of Luz’s life as well (and look out for her daughter in a very dangerous situation). It’s just a really touching portrayal of motherhood.

That’s actually the part I’m the most upset we missed out on due to the shortened season. Seeing Camila be a supportive mother to Luz and give Amity and Hunter their first real experience with a caring parent is something I would have loved to see considering how much their abusive/complicated home lives we’ve gotten to explore over the show. (I specify Amity and Hunter because we know that Gus and Willow have loving home lives. I would still love to see Camila be a parental figure to them too)

We still have some more time. I’m hoping we’ll get to see more of surrogate mother Camila over the next two specials.

Hunter especially needs that care because he cannot catch a break.

Season 2 and now season 3 has been one long trauma conga line for Hunter with so much of that trauma being born from his twisted relationship with Belos. 

Hunter being possessed by Belos is a very fascinating turn of events that foreshadows so many possibilities with Belos but there is one area I think could have been handled better. 

I want to touch on the scene where Hunter stood up to Belos first. This has been a long time coming. Hunter has submitted to Belos’ ideas for his future for most of his life and even after leaving the emperor’s coven he didn’t get the chance to have a confrontation with Belos where he was given the time to address this area of growth.

Hunter finally has the chance to choose his destiny which is something he stated he was jealous Luz could do back in Hunting Palismen. Due to his journey in the human realm he has the self worth and the security to stand up to Belos for the first time in his life and it was a powerful scene because of the build up.

Hunter has gained so much that he has lacked all his life due to his time away from Belos and in the human realm. It makes this moment and his sacrifice hit all the harder because of how far this episode shows he’s come.

He has a family

He likes who he sees in the mirror 

He has friends who value him for who he is and not what he can do

He can take part in his hobbies and indulge his interests 

He no longer needs Belos like Belos tried to make him believe. He can finally be the person he was always meant to be. 

Hunter is brave, caring, and kind. No matter what Belos did or said to him he never lost those qualities. He is willing to stand up to Belos and possibly sacrifice himself to protect everything he has come to love. He has people that will extend that same care and compassion towards him.

This brings us to one of the saddest moments in the episode: Flapjack’s sacrifice.

Hunter has gone through so much and Flapjack’s sacrifice hits especially hard because Flapjack was one of the first people Hunter could rely on and probably even call a friend. 

Flapjack was important for Hunter’s development in more ways than one. He provided him with a confidant when he didn’t have anyone else and it helped him question and re-evaluate Belos’ actions in regards to palismen and wild magic. He also met him because of his first real encounter with Luz.

It all comes full circle. He initially protected Flapjack from Belos because he knew Belos would use him as fuel/a life source but now Flapjack is willingly being exactly that for Hunter. He is now a part of Hunter. It’s a very bittersweet ending to their relationship that shows the growth and care that they each had for each other.

That moment where Hunter stops in front of the portal and holds his hand over his heart was a short but very effective moment at conveying his grief. 

This sacrifice was very well executed in my opinion.

All of this works emotionally within Hunter’s character arc. 

However, the battle didn’t quite reach its full potential. It had incredibly fluid animation and was amazing to watch, but it wasn’t as emotional on Amity, Gus, and Willow’s end as it could have been in certain ways. 

You could feel the conflict and pain from Luz’s end. It was made clear that she was purposefully not trying because she didn’t want to hurt Hunter and even hugged him to try and get through to him. She doesn’t want to hurt him because of how much she has come to care for him and this turmoil could be seen in every action Luz took and could be felt in her voice acting performance. 

She’s the only one you could understand the full grasp of her conflict over the fight with Hunter though. There wasn’t any of that same hesitation or desperation on anyone else’s end. You know that all of them are close to Hunter and care about him but you don’t feel the full depth until after the fight.

These connections are really important to Hunter’s character because of how Belos isolated him prior to season 2 and I loved all the moments that showcased how important Hunter is to the group and vice versa. That’s why I decided to point out the lack of hesitation on everyone else’s part. It doesn’t break the episode (in fact the episode is great) but I thought it could have been executed a bit differently.

Hunter is one of the strongest characters in the show and the way this episode handled him was great.

This brings me to Luz.

King’s Tide had real consequences for Luz. She feels like she couldn’t protect Eda or King and she couldn’t stop Belos or the Collector. She doesn’t know the fate of the family she left behind and she believes that everything that happened is her fault.

She’s understandably not handling it well.

Luz this episode and in a few episodes last season is used to explore grief and loss. This is explored in more ways than one through the loss of her father and her newfound family in the Boiling Isles.

Luz’s father was noticeably absent in her life at the start of the series but what happened to him wasn’t revealed until “Reaching Out” (In a fantastic scene by the way). We get even more expansion on it through Luz’s video diary entries. 

Luz was much more aware of what was happening with her family and father than she let on to her mother despite their best efforts to shield her. The way you can see the decline in her emotional state through her entries as her father’s health declines makes the process feel real. This wasn’t a quick but a slow process/struggle for the family over time until he unfortunately passed. It’s something that Camila and Luz are still struggling with. 

The process of healing isn’t linear for any of the characters. 

It also reveals that Manny introduced Luz to the Good Witch Azura. This is really bittersweet and touches on something that this episode emphasized and that is how media and stories can help us process, heal, and feel seen in aspects of life that people struggle with.

Hunter finds connection and healing through the Cosmic Frontier character O’Bailey. Luz finds that same connection and escape through Azura. It helped her during a really hard time in her life by helping her find a connection to her father after he was gone.

It makes everything in regards to her Good Witch Azura book and hyperfixation very bittersweet and puts so much in a new light. It’s a brief but powerful moment in the episode.

The exploration of Luz’s grief in the present day is handled just as well as that short segment. It shows the repercussions on her mental health and how it trickles out in unexpected ways like her rant in class. 

But most importantly it shows how her support system understands that she’s struggling and they are there for her no matter what. They might not all know how to best handle what she is dealing with but they all give it their best and make sure they let her know that they don’t think of her as a burden.

One of my favorite moments showcasing this in the episode is when Amity lets Luz know that Belos meeting the collector because of her help isn’t a failing on her part. It doesn't make her a mistake or the harbinger of doom she believes she is. She assures Luz it’s a testament to her good heart instead.

Luz’s support system doesn’t automatically make her better either. The Owl House understands there is no quick fix to depression and other mental health issues. There is no list of requirements to check off to “cure” it. It’s something that is dealt with on a daily basis.

Dealing with mental health isn’t linear just like dealing with grief isn’t linear.

I am really intrigued to see how they handle Luz’s struggles moving forward and believe that they were handled with a lot of tact in this premiere.

This show has really come into its own. Season one was fun and had a great world and characters that drew you in but lacked a strong vision of where it wanted to go with wonky power scaling, an inconsistent level of control and influence from Belos that changed to suit the episode, and parts of the story that clashed with its core themes. I loved the season but thought there was missed potential. 

Season two came around and reached the heights I thought it was capable of and it seems like season 3 plans to do the exact same. I can’t wait for the final two episodes. If this is any indication of their quality I bet they will be amazing.

Extra thoughts

I love when Camila lets Luz sleep with her after she’s awoken from her nightmare. It’s just a really sweet mother-daughter moment.

I really liked Hunter’s cosplay and how his attachment to the character of O’Bailey speaks to the importance of representation and how it can help you heal and feel seen.

Gus definitely knows that Hunter is a Grimwalker. He purposefully introduced Hunter to a character that he could connect to and even tried to imply that he knew before Hunter covered his ears to avoid spoilers. I really appreciate their dynamic in the smaller moments of this episode.

I said it in my Hollow Mind thoughts but I’m going to say it again here: I think that Evelyn was a Calwthorne. There’s just too many clues in the show for her not to be and the Owl House has a pretty good track record of paying off obvious hints.

The best thing about this episode is how it carries over the consequences of King’s Tide. There are a few times where the tension the characters should feel to get back to the Boiling Isles gets a bit lost. The most notable example was how solving the clue they found to get them back to the isles was framed more as a way to cheer Luz up than a way to return to their families and know if they are okay. 

Yeah, the characters are sad to be away from their families but there isn’t the desperation to know about their fates that would be expected considering what happened with the day of unity and the collector. I like how this plot point was used in regards to Hunter and Luz but thought it was a bit lacking in execution and development when it comes to Amity, Willow, and Gus.

Amity, Willow, and Gus are unfortunately the ones that suffer from this section of the season being shortened. They are fun and engaging supporting characters but they noticeably don’t get the emotional focus or development that Luz, Hunter, and Camila get. I don’t dislike the choice, in fact, I think it was a smart choice to narrow the scope of the episode because it would likely become bloated and lack the strong focus and emotional core that it has.

It’s just unfortunate because Willow and Gus are not as well explored as Amity, Luz, and Hunter. Gus at least has “Labyrinth Runners” as an episode focused on him and a few episode B plots but Willow doesn’t really have her own spotlight episode. Both of her episodes “Understanding Willow” and “Any Sport in a Storm” are actually Amity and Hunter episodes respectively.

I would just like to see a bit more of Willow explored.

This is the first time Hunter has really cried in the show. He’s teared up before but never allowed himself to fully cry. It’s telling that the moment that gets to him the most, that makes him drop those walls and breaks the dam, is when Luz calls him family. It’s not traumatic or violent. It’s quiet and tender. He’s never had a family (something he mentions in Hunting Palismen) and now he does. Earth really did allow Hunter to come into his own and gain so much that he lacked all his life. 

I absolutely adore all the end credits art. Most of it is just so wholesome with my favorites being Luz teaching Camila glyphs (Camila is really committed to learning from Luz) and Flapjack tucking in Hunter (this is just so bittersweet).

#the owl house #toh #lumity #hunter #amity blight #luz noceda #camila noceda #belos #willow park #gus porter #I love this show #thanks to them

[archivalofsins]

It says in your bio that your hope upon finishing Milgram is to finish it with an appreciation for all it's cast instead of a select few. That has me curious, how have your opinions on the cast changed from the beginning of Trial 2 in comparison to it's end?

Well, when I started trial two, I was really only invested in Futa and Mu.

They're the first two I wrote stuff on casually. I liked how both of their narratives handled and highlighted bullying online and in real life. I thought how they were used to highlight how bullying is still bullying regardless of where it happens or on what scale refreshing and interesting.

So, that's the first thing that really caught my interest about Milgram. I also really liked how both of their stories subtly highlighted the concept of betrayal from the jump. It showcased the very you're either on top or on bottom mindset of bullies. Along with their need to control the environments there in either through seeming infallible or morally correct in Futa's case or weak/in need of help in Mu's.

Honestly it was very reminiscent of old shojo anime. Like some of the characters in Peach Girl and the way they manipulate situations. So, as someone who's read and watched a good bit of messy shojo both of their narratives were a bit nostalgic in that way.

I wasn't too surprised with where things went with Mu trial two. Ultimately, I was more disappointed by the response to the reveal than the reveal itself. I really hope for a day to come where bullying is taking as seriously as people pretend it is. Because never addressing what causes people to become bullies ultimately hinders society from having better preventative measures and intervention skills in cases where bullying is occurring.

It's easy to go it's tit for tat but that doesn't really stop the cycle or discuss the systemic issues that lead to these things. In the same vein just going everyone online is like that and we're not really much different from Futa doesn't address the real issue. That simply being, people shouldn't treat others like this.

So ultimately I came into this like these two a good deal because of what there stories covered.

Now, since I'm only human I do have some vendetta against Mu's character due to the behavior I've experienced from the fandom. That simply is not present with Futa. So, I have to constantly remind myself none of the characters are their fans. In a way Mu taught me the pitfalls of guilt by association and not judging others by the company they keep or the sort of people who support them.

In an age like this one where the divide between an individual and the groups they move inhabit are getting harder to distinguish between it's important to take a step back and recognize a person cannot solely be defined by the people they know or the privileges they have. Mu's complacency highlights this idea. Having her say you should just let friends do what they want in her second voice drama highlights how passive she can be within her situation.

Yet that doesn't exactly absolve her of anything either. It just highlights the don't rock the boat mentality of high schoolers where it's easier to let bullying happen than stand up to it and possibly be bullied yourself. Even easier to partake in it because it's guaranteed safety even for a little bit.

My opinion of Futa really just turned into wow I can't believe he managed to get away with that impressive. I was very proud honestly. Because he seems to be just as messy and like drama as much as Mu does. Possibly even more than she does given the salamander cover and comparisons to Kotoko within the text.

So, I'm very excited for what will happen next with him. Plus really interested in what would have happened if he and Mu were innocent at the same time. I think it would have been very messy honestly and they probably would have wound up working together if anything.

I wrote a lot about Mikoto because his case was the most narratively engaging for me and I do relate to his character a lot but it's mostly in a recognition of self derogatory way. That's still there fuck that guy. Glad he's innocent because it's so funny that he got away with that shit. Can't even hold you he is lying by the seat of his pants. He should not have succeeded. It was through thirst alone that he coasted to innocent.

I like dishonest men stubborn men who will be like you will eat this lie I'm feeding you and say it's good. He really came in here like I can probably gaslight my way out of this how do you know any of that was real and won. Fucking eight murderers before him and that worked solely because people like him. I hope it goes to his head so hard. I hope that shit hits him and he gets sooo fucking cocky his unrestrained as starts jumping people.

Trial one hated this guy didn't want to see him. Trial two fuck it I appreciate the grind and the commitment. Kazui trial one I know exactly what you did and it's funny you're innocent. Trial two

Me: Go on stay innocent until you say it bitch go on-

Kazui: Please just find out my lies just say them please?!

Me (a sadist and a masochist): No because I know it hurts more that you can't say it with your coward ass- So, you want people to figure it out for you to free you from that hell you meticulously made for yourself. Say it or burn bitch- Admit it or die on fire I don't care we can both suffer. I can do this all day-

Kazui: I fucking hate it here-

I just don't want to give him the satisfaction of being found being guilty would probably make him better but his bitch ass went and did that shit he can at least admit he did that shit. He's choosing to lie. He can't be mad at other people buying into the shit he decided to sell. He can stop lying at anytime this only has to go as far as he wants it to and he's enjoying the fucking lie. Given Cat.

I have great respect for Kazui's character because it embodies lying so well. It embodies it to a t. It's like it's not even about if this is good or bad anymore. If it's healthy for me or anyone around me I just gotta keep doing it why I don't know because maybe I've lied so long nobody will accept the real me- if their even is a real me. What if the feelings I think are true are just more lies and there's not one real thing about me. I tried being honest to people I cared about and they didn't like what they heard and if I can change up and put up this act to please them were the feelings ever genuine to begin with.

Is the lie on them for only wanting what they wanted to hear or is it on me for being too big of a coward to tell them what they didn't want to hear and stick to it. When do other people stop being convenient excuses for me to continue not to change because I'm afraid of what I'll really be if I do. Is it a lie that I lied for you or is it a lie that I lied for me? WHEN DOES A LIE START TO SERVE NO ONE?! WHEN DOES IT START TO HAVE NO MEANING? DOES IT EVER HAVE MEANING?!

I just really like him because he always seems to be suffering deep down in very compelling ways. Just like Kotoko. I've actually gotten to the point of liking most of the cast. I like Kotoko because I actually am a firm believer in letting women be evil. I am so much like unnecessarily, so I just also like to see them face consequences from time to time and did not wish to usurp Es if I'm being honest.

The only thing they have is a love for their job. I have feeling about Es but like they are trying their best at their job. I don't think it would be cool for any of the prisoners to take that away from them. It's their job. Sure they didn't choose it and wasn't their dream. Yet, it's something of importance to them and they've shown that consistently. Even if the choices they've made don't have the best outcomes. They take responsibility for it.

Now could Es stop resorting to physical violence as much as they do. I personally think so. My only issue with Es is just they can be condescending, rude, and don't treat prisoners equally. All of these are kind of the point of Milgram and Es is like a teenager so. I just generally think it's unfair to hit people simply because one knows they cannot hit them back. That's an abuse of power and wrong. So, I don't like that. Outside of that Es is pretty cool and tries to be reasonable even when taking in the audiences input.

They don't ask the best interrogation questions. I feel as though they could grill certain prisoners a bit more than they have and this has led to their authority being questioned. Ultimately making their job more difficult and prisoners take them less seriously. It's a hard job.

Yuno she'll always be best girl I while I don't really discuss her often. She's one of the characters I actually have merch for. She's great and not in the yes go off she's so innocent way. Yuno is an incredibly compelling character who's narrative discusses the nuances of abortion in ways I haven't seen much media imply to from based of what I believe is occurring. I like how the line in undercover implies that she was coerced into getting an abortion or contractually obligated to do so.

A concept that isn't as heavily discussed in media as it should be are forced abortion or miscarriages caused by men against the desire of the woman. Along with how being forced through something like that mentally and physically impacts a person. Because it takes a thing that everyone agrees should be a woman's choice and turns it into something done for a men's benefit. Something that happens a lot in the black community that I would like to see discussed in media more.

Mahiru is Star's favorite. She's a good lady my opinion hasn't changed. Other than she's a good lady she's needs to go to therapy for her low self-esteem immediately. She has to take more time away from dating to appreciate the person she is and can be by herself. None of the things she did were healthy and I am worried about her deeply.

The only ones I'm still really on the fence with when it comes to appreciating are Haruka and Shidou funnily enough I feel like I still don't know enough about either of them to fully appreciate them. Like not in a I don't like them at all but I don't really think about them all the time yet individually. I still only think of them in context to the relationships they have with other prisoners in canon. Which when I really appreciate a character I can think about them individually. Without it feeling forced.

And like it's still kind of forced. I feel like I appreciate them but it still feels surface level. I don't know I've written a good amount about them but there hasn't been that firm click yet. Of oh I like and understand you somewhat. With everyone else it's like naw I like you, you did that shit but I like and appreciate you on some level.

Then there's Haruka and Shidou who are just here kind of like friends of a friend. So, I'm hoping trial three takes them to that point for me. Because I still feel like there's just not much I know about them. Or much more I could know to really just make me go yeah. I can get that now.

I don't know if that makes sense. Yet, me appreciating a character is dependent on how much I can discuss them outside of relating them to someone else. I feel I do that with Haruka and Shidou the least. Which is a disservice I admit but thanks for asking!

#gunsli rambles

[athetos]

In thinking about how I’ve been in a lot of bad relationships, ranging from toxic to downright abusive. With partners who had zero respect for me, or who were overly controlling, or went into the relationship expecting me to be someone completely different. People who I felt like I couldn’t leave, or be myself with, or was even afraid of. Where getting a message notification would cause me to panic and throw my phone. I felt like I was a magnet for manipulative people. Every time I would get out of a relationship, it felt like someone could sense I was vulnerable and circle me like a shark, knowing I was an easy target. And I kept making the same mistakes and ignoring the same red flags. It wasn’t that I didn’t “learn” from all these failed relationships, but I kept coming up with excuses or justifications for why I was being treated so poorly, whether it was gaslighting or being misgendered or whatever hell they decided to put me through at the time. I ended up being single for a couple years, hoping to kind of get my mental health together before even considering something casual again. I was kind of afraid I’d be in this cycle for my entire life.

Today I only had my second date with this girl, but I have never felt more like I could be myself with someone. I felt comfortable with her. I felt safe. In a way I don’t think I’ve ever felt with someone I was into. There was some awkwardness but it was good. We laughed and smiled so much. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time. She told me about her family, her kids - god she fucking loves her kids - the universe, television shows, music, restaurants, animals. She asked me if I have a preference for a specific set of pronouns, what gendered terms I’m comfortable with, if I prefer being called cute vs handsome. Things that I feel everyone should discuss, but I have never had a partner who asked me those things before, who actually cared. And she said she felt safe and comfortable with me too. It’s so early, but I feel like I’ve always known her, in a way. If we never see each other again, I’ll be disappointed, but I won’t regret a single second of it. She’s incredible in a way I can’t describe. I’m so lucky to have met her. And the way she looks at me… it’s like they truly care about me. That they SEE me. I feel understood on this crazy, cosmic level.

It’s just. Man, I’m in tears right now. I never thought I’d be able to get over this trauma and ever date again without living in fear but there’s amazing, great people out there. And even if things don’t work out here, I know these amazing, great people exist. I’m happy. I’m genuinely, really, truly happy.

#p

[septembersghost]

I've been thinking about this all month, but one of my good friends dated this guy for a while who is such trash, he was into edgelord shit, racist, sexist, homophobic, real weird about 2A, I hated him. My friend is a kind, accepting person, his values didn't align with hers at all. So everyone was like what the fuck are you doing, but she thought he was nice deep down or something. I couldn't talk to her for about a month. She only dated him for six weeks or so and then woke up and realized how gross it was. I was questioning everything I knew about her as a person but in the end it was a terrible lapse in judgement and I forgave her and everybody moved on. this feels so similar on a worldwide level.

tl;dr fan commentary is hard and it felt like there was a demand to prove we didn't condone the things he's done, but I think you did your very best supporting people and speaking out while still trying to hold sympathy for Taylor, and she means so much to you that there is nothing wrong with forgiving this and moving on and loving her and her music like you do.

one of my friends told me a similar story about someone they love who was involved with someone completely terrible for a while, and how difficult it was, i think this is a more common experience than we'd like. and people are flawed and sometimes they make bad decisions and mistakes, including good people. i'm sorry you went through that, i'm sure it was really hard, and i'm glad it turned out okay in the end.

thank you ❤ yeah, i think it's been difficult because what started as understandable disappointment/anger/concern and very valid criticism and feelings of hurt, and where we were trying to support and amplify one another, turned into a vicious cycle of outright hatred fueled by outrage and blame and purity culture (the people viciously slut shaming, the comments claiming she's insincere/calculated/manipulative/untalented/narcissistic/evil etc etc and blaming her for his actions and statements had gotten way out of control. holding someone accountable doesn't equate to utterly dehumanizing them), and then at the same time fans were harassing and attacking one another for speaking up or for not reacting "correctly" or for having empathy for both people impacted and for taylor herself. it's just been a mess! and it's been excruciating and stressful and sad for me personally and sort of broke me a bit because i'm just...overly sensitive lol and trying to sort through my own hurt and disappointment mixed with being overloaded by negativity on here and feeling so much for everyone who came to me in pain, and then also selfishly missing her and my connection to her music because the weight put on all of this forced me to take a self-protective distance...shambles!

anyway, as i also said to my friend earlier, the problem happening online right now is there's this intense focus on punishment in almost puritanical religious terms - repent, do penance, take your lashes for loving anything especially if it's deemed "problematic"! - but without room for growth, forgiveness/redemption, and salvation. and like...if we're having to think about it like that, the penance means NOTHING without room for forgiveness. requiring trials and proof of upstanding morality becomes a vicious cycle at some point, which does NOT mean we should tolerate bigoted behavior or harmful actions or not be critical ever, it's more about measuring that and channeling it for more than futile outrage and lashing out at each other. the solace and joy we find in art is WHY that love exists, that's paramount, and what we can do after supporting one another is fostering that love and growth in a more positive way. so i hope moving forward this is a learning experience for all of us (myself included!) and we can be a little gentler on one another/ourselves and remember that ultimately the light at the center of things is why we're together here!

#anonymous #letterbox #thrown out speeches #fandom discourse

[bnuuywol]

From the Life and Journals of Phoenyx Eldritch

Aight here we go, I’m finally gonna bite the bullet and post the fics I’ve written about my WoL. This post is gonna be the first in a series of interconnected works that I wrote during the course of my time playing through for the first time, as well as pieces of the timeline I’ll go back to fill in later. I’ll be separating each chunk of chapters by expansion, which also means some things will be out of order as I haven’t written everything in my brain yet (sweats in I barely wrote anything for A Realm Reborn or Stormblood oops). Right now I’m still waiting on my invite email to AO3, but once I receive it they’ll be posted both here and there. 

Now, onto the first chapter in PART I: A REALM REBORN!

I hope y’all like childhood trauma 👉😅👉

CONTENT WARNINGS: Gender dysphoria, misgendering

PART I: A REALM REBORN

Chapter One

Nineteen years predating the Seventh Umbral Calamity, a new brood of Viera kits were born in the Veena village of Akusos. The cycle of breeding came and went like clockwork for the Viera who lived there. After all, with the Garleans waging war just outside their borders and the ability, or lack thereof, of their men to survive in the unforgiving wilderness at the base of the Skatay Range, they found themselves needing to replenish their numbers often in order to survive. Among these children was an odd kit who would one day come to be known as Phen. 

Their mother only bore the one child. Rael, her name was. She had only recently come of age to participate in the breeding cycle, and even so her priorities often seemed to lie elsewhere. She was one of the most skilled hunters in their village, constantly venturing out into the forest to procure prey for her peoples’ survival. Even pregnancy didn’t stop her in this plight. It was this very reason that the child’s father, Kir, sought Rael when the time came. A Wood Warder since the age of fourteen, like all other males of their kind, he spent the vast majority of his days in the forests as a protector. He’d known Rael since they were both kits themselves, having been born roughly around the same breeding cycle. He had always admired her kindness, her fearlessness. The two found themselves drawn together the moment they were able. Warriors at their core exchanging a passion that ventured far beyond their responsibilities for Akusos.

This fearlessness, passion, and edge of reckless disregard they both possessed would be passed down to their child, but neither would live long enough to see it. A Garlean ambush came at no surprise, but this one came dangerously close to the village itself. Kir performed his duties to the best of his abilities, but not his efforts nor the efforts of other Warders in the surrounding area could drive the Garleans away from Akusos. There were far too many of them, brandishing suits of magitek that could cut down their most skilled fighters in an instant. Rael led a party of the village’s most skilled hunters out into the field in order to drive the invaders out by force. Their success met with a heavy cost. Neither Rael nor Kir returned from the ordeal. Knowing the behavior of their lineage, the village elder, a woman named Dava, decided that taking their child under her personal care would be for the best.

And Phen never knew any different. Their mother died when they were only three years old. The decade that had passed since then held a deeper grip on their memories. Not that they imagined things would have been easier had she survived. Throughout their life they were met with nothing but scolding and disappointment from Dava. It had always been “don’t.” Don’t ask questions like that. Don’t wander outside the village by yourself. Don’t touch those weapons. Don’t speak about that gift of yours. Don’t grow too attached to being a Wood Warder. Don’t question the Green Word.

But they were cursed with an insatiable curiosity. No matter how many times they were told no, they did it again anyway. That reckless behavior made it so Dava kept them separate from the other kits, raising them in isolation lest their misguided ways infect the other young ones. Every effort she made to teach them the proper ways of the Veena clan backfired. Of course, it was in part that very isolation that made them crave answers. Phen didn’t understand the prospect of simply accepting certain things at truth without being told why. Dava always shut them down whenever they prodded at a subject that she did not want them to know about at that age. She just told herself that the kit would settle down as they got older, that puberty would hit and their gender would provide them with a purpose and all of this would just go away.

How wrong she was.

Phen appeared to be growing into a lovely young woman, much to Dava’s relief and the kit’s dismay. Dava immediately got to work preparing the thirteen year old for her new responsibilities as a woman of Akusos. Surely the prospect of training as a hunter would appeal to the child’s tendency towards the same behavior as her mother. But what Dava found was only further resistance. 

When her puberty started, Phen felt like she was living in a waking nightmare. Her body was rebelling against her. There had to be some sort of mistake. From what she knew and felt of the two genders, she had always resonated with the males of their race. Everything about being told she was female felt… wrong. Feeling the tenderness in her chest often brought her to tears. Her facial features remaining soft and absent of angles, her waist curving into an hourglass, the idea that she would one day be expected to bear children? Phen couldn’t believe this was happening to her. 

She, no… he would not surrender to this reality. Phen knew who he was, he was not about to let Dava decide for him. He just needed to gather the courage to say something. And one day after training, he approached the elder.

“Dava, if you could spare a moment, there’s something I wish to discuss.” Phen requested before returning to his room, his head bowed to show his respect.

“Make it quick, Phen. You know I have little patience to answer questions about things that do not concern you.” Dava responded sharply, hardly looking up from the task that presently occupied her.

“Of course. I…” Anxiety swirled in his chest, but he raised his gaze and steeled himself for the worst. “I’ve been giving it some thought, and I was wondering if when next the Wood Warders return, I could go with them and begin training to become one.” Phen’s request was immediately met with a seething silence. Dava closed her book and stood, approaching the kit with a dangerous glare. 

“You know full well that women are not permitted to become Wood Warders. The Green Word forbids it.”

“I know, but… I don’t really feel that I am… a woman, I mean. I understand that the developments my body is going through would make it seem as such, but… it doesn’t feel right.”

“What on earth could you possibly mean by such a claim?”

“I mean exactly what I’m saying.” Desperate to be understood, he threw caution to the wind and let emotion take over. “Everything about it feels wrong, like I’m a prisoner in my own skin. Puberty be damned, I am a man, not a woman!”

“Watch your tongue, kit! Need I remind you that it was by the goodness of my heart that you were given a home after the passing of your mother? And now you would stand here and insult her memory, insult our very way of life. Rael would be ashamed of who you grew up to be.”

“But why is what I say so wrong? Why is what I ask to do so wrong? My father died in the name of protecting Akusos, he devoted his life to the protection of our village, of our forests. He took upon him the lonely duty of the Wood Warder with pride and honor. All I have ever wanted was to follow in his footsteps. To protect the land as he did. And now, because you all decide who I am for me, I will not be allowed to do so?”

“What you want, Phen, is any excuse to go off into the outside world! That’s all you have ever wanted, to be rid of this place. Is that not so?”

Phen opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, his face twisting with confliction. He shoved down the dysphoria induced by Dava’s choice to ignore what he shared about his gender and tried to fully consider the question posed to him. “I…” His voice faltered. He pressed his eyes shut, his chest heavy with the reality that she was right. With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes and brought them back to hers. “Can you blame me? All my life you have kept me sheltered away, able to experience nothing but the four walls of our home. Does it truly surprise you that I now look to the stars and yearn for the freedom to know more than that?”

Dava crossed her arms, greatly disappointed by what this kit became despite her best efforts to prevent it. She shook her head, her eyes daggers upon the child. “Then go.”

Phen’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry?”

“I hereby exile you from the village of Akusos. Leave now, and do not return.”

“Dava—” His voice swelled with panic.

“My decision is final. You have spat in the face of the Green Word for the last time, kit. The wilderness will decide your fate now.”

The Warders all knew better than to aid the young kit that had entered the forests that evening. The circumstances by which the, what appeared to their eyes to be female, child came to be in the wilderness could only mean one thing: the elder had exiled the kit, and deemed them Veena no longer. For a mercy, Phen had been allowed to keep the bow and quiver of arrows he had begun training with, but nothing else. After the initial shock and panic from Dava’s decision had passed, he made his preparations swiftly. Believing he had nothing further to lose, he broke into the storehouses and acquired the gear given only to the men of their tribe before they went out into the forest. If he were to be sent out into the world, likely to his death, he would do so with dignity, unbound by the clothing expected of someone assigned female. 

That first night proved particularly difficult. The cold bit through even the armor on his forearms and legs, his exposed midriff numb and bright red with irritation as the unforgiving winds tore against his body. But despite the tips of his fingers feeling as though they might break off, he used a partial cave and a haphazardly built wall of snow to shelter himself through the night. When he awoke, it felt like he had frozen in place, his body wracked with profuse shaking. It probably would have been easier to simply lay there and die, but something inside him wouldn’t allow that. A fire burned in his chest and told him that this world held more for him than to freeze to death as a child. And with that determination, he found the strength to pull himself up off the ground.

Phen spent nine years in that forest, watching Warders from afar, teaching himself the lay of the land, teaching himself how to survive. Though he stumbled through the first couple of years, surviving mostly on luck, he was quick to pick up the skills he needed in order to survive. Hunting, building fires, finding shelter, looting supplies off the bodies of fallen Garlean soldiers, as well as those of Dalmascans and Nagxians who fled into the woods hoping to escape the invaders only to face the unforgiving cold and beasts. Every once in a while he’d find particularly useful supplies off the bodies of ‘adventurers.’ In particular, he once found a gold encrusted vial with a strange blue liquid within it, deciding to keep it in case it held any value.

The more he found himself encountering adventurers, either alive or dead, the more intrigued he became by the concept. Phen would sometimes spend his evenings spying on their camps, hearing their stories about adventures in far away lands that they regaled one another to pass the time. Tales regarding a place called Eorzea caught his attention in particular. People spoke of a great tragedy striking the land, the Calamity, they called it. How many people were in need of aid to rebuild, to gain protection from bandits and ruffians, to find some sort of peace after the red moon Dalamud broke apart and released a ferocious dragon, Bahamut. The more he heard about the place, the more he felt drawn to it. Especially the deserts of Thanalan. How he yearned to free himself from this cold wasteland at the base of the mountains and explore such a place.

One day, the circumstances seemed to align in a most harmonious fashion. A party of adventurers hailing from Eorzea was passing through the forest in pursuit of the mountains of the Skatay Range, with intent on exploring the Burn just beyond them. Phen caught an intriguing conversation about a vial not unlike the one he had acquired a few years past. Fantasia, they called it. They were, of course, speaking of how much value the substance held in the marketplaces, their intention to sell it to line their coin purses. But all that information was lost on Phen once he heard what it could do: using magic to change the user’s entire body as they pleased, including their physical gender. His ears perked and eyes widened with this information. From his vantage point, he pulled the vial from his pocket. The answer to his struggles living with the body given to him at birth…  could it have been this close for all these years? Only one way to find out. Phen opened the vial, and with his heart’s desire at the forefront of his mind, downed its contents. An odd sensation filled his being, as if his skin were rippling across the bone. Overwhelmed by it, he soon lost consciousness.

When he came to, Phen found himself surrounded by that selfsame group of adventurers. He inhaled sharply, pulling the dagger from its sheath at his back and rising to one knee, brandishing the blade in front of him in defense. The first thing he noticed was the… weight, for lack of a better word, between his legs. Then the lack thereof around his chest, as well as an overall different sensation regarding his center of gravity. Had it… worked? 

“Be at ease, lad. We found ya passed out with a pack of coyotes circling around. Thought it best to not let ya become their lunch.” A gruff voice pierced his ears. He turned to find a heavily scarred Roegadyn man with his arms crossed, emerald green eyes staring down at him. Phen’s gaze followed from him to a dark-skinned Elezen woman, a teal haired Miqo'te man, and then back to the Roegadyn. 

“I…” He began responding, immediately taken aback by the sound of his own voice. Between the vastly different physical sensations he felt, the deepening of his voice, and the stranger’s immediate and correct assumption that he was, in fact, male all but confirmed it. Fantasia had done its work. “Thank you.” He finished, easing into the fact that this was now the voice he possessed. As shocking as hearing it had been, it felt right.

The Roegadyn man held out a hand and smiled. Phen sheathed his dagger and took it, graciously accepting the help to rise to his feet. “Name’s Haldryss. That there is Catane,” he gestured towards the Elezen, “and L’lev,” his gaze shifted towards the Miqo’te. “What might you be called, lad?”

Phen opened his mouth, then hesitated and shut it. If this were to be his first steps towards starting a new life outside of this place, his new identity in possession of a body that matched his soul, he would need a new name. Not one given to him by the elder of a people who despised him. He recalled a creature from a tome he’d found on a Nagxian some time ago, a creature who embodied rebirth with its ability to set itself aflame and start life anew. “Phoenyx.” He responded. “Phoenyx Eldritch.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv wol #warrior of light oc #viera wol #transmasc wol #ffxiv rp #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy xiv fanfiction #wol oc #phoenyx eldritch #pre-arr #my writing #gonna go hide now lol haven't posted about my ocs since my tumblr rp days #cw gender dysphoria #cw misgendering

[burningrebelsworld]

I've not been in a good place mentally. I find my mental health deteriorating day by day. There are too many things I'm struggling with. I feel so bogged down, constantly in my fucking head, I just want to jump off a cliff tbh. Childhood trauma really fucks you up like nothing else? It has been resurfacing and i find myself crippling and spiralling. I can't imagine how my 12 year old self must've coped up with it.

When I was really tiny, I was extremely wise. I used to behave like a 50 y/o when I was barely 10/11, carrying the guilt, the shame and the baggage of my abusive family. I was often appreciated and praised for being mature. I was deeply conditioned to please all my family members. I would be patted whenever I gave into their decisions, let them choose for me and went with their choices. Everytime I spoke up for myself, took a stand, I was criticized.

I don't know if it's my Neptune and chiron in the 4th house or Lilith and Capricorn in the 4th house, but my childhood was a nightmare. It was so traumatic that my body panics even today when I think about it. As a family ritual, my family would engage in fights everyday where 10 people would yell at each other at the top of their voices.

I have always been a sensitive child with deep emotional wounds, I often found myself taking the role of a mediator, trying to calm them down. I could not stand conflict. I hate conflict. I hate fighting with someone. It triggers the fuck outta me. I feel so trapped and suffocated. I'm 22 now and nothing has seemingly changed.

I feel terrible looking back, knowing I was never allowed to live my childhood like other kids. I don't know what people love about their childhoods. Why they'd want to be kids again. I would never go back if I had a time machine. I have always wanted to grow up, I'm so grateful I did. I can't wait to be financially independent.

I slipped into depression after my family kept taunting me about wasting my university fee. I was called a disappointment and a waste of space. Why are people allowed to have kids when they don't know how to raise them? Why am I surrounded by so many narcissists who rely on so-called "reputation" and would rather let go of their dreams to do what the society expects them to do?

I don't know where to start healing. I am such a mess. I hate being here. I hate I ever desired to reincarnate in this household. Honestly? Give me my childhood back. I fucking hate this. I don't want to be responsible. I grew up too quick. My mind can't catch up to all the stress. I just want to be there for myself and do something that makes me happy.

Also, in my observation I've found that narcissists never change. I once told my mom I wanted to die and had a panic attack, I fell on the ground crying and begging her to talk to me. She was so numb. She told me I should stop crying if I didn't want the neighbours to think my family was inflicting some kind of pain on me.

Words will never do justice to the sleepless nights I've spent, being there for my parents when they should've been there for me instead. I'm so bitter, hateful and vengeful. I will not forgive them for what they did. I will not forgive them for passing their trauma onto me. I will not forgive them for snatching my childhood away from me, for dismissing my PTSD, for treating me like shit when all I deserved was unconditional love.

You know what sucks the most? When you've been through so much and still choose to love, trust and fall for someone? But they end up repeating the same cycle, treating you like doormat, mirroring your wounds and taking advantage of you. Breaking you in infinite ways. Healing is so painful. Healing comes at a huge price. I don't know what's easier. Hoping to heal, or wanting to fucking die.

I'm sorry for the vent, I needed an outlet.

#pick a card #tarot reading #free tarot #exchange reading #tarot exchange #pac reading #childhood trauma #fuck this #narcissticabuseawareness #narc abuse #attachment wound #anxiety #sorry for being depressing

[lightning-kachow]

Conference Call | Self Para

Date: Late April 2023 Warnings: None

Lightning catches up with his team.

"Alright, is everybody here? Lightning McQueen."

"Jenn Harvey, publicity."

"Got it."

"Mack Hauler, personal assistant!"

"Mack, you're sitting next to me."

"Yeah, I just felt like I should—"

"Rusty, Team Rust-Eze."

"Dusty, Team Rust-Eze."

"Got it, got it, Chuck, you here?"

"Not Chuck. Mike Pitts here, Speedway Management."

"Right." Okay, yes, Lightning had been working with this guy for twenty years, but he never really saw him. And he looked like a Chuck! This was a conference call, so Lightning couldn't actually see him... fine. He sounded like a Chuck.

Anyway.

"Sooo... lay it on me. I'm in the UK, Lille's coming up in two weeks and it'd be easy to get there, and I'm in shape for it." Bit of an exaggeration, but Lightning could get in shape for it. It was worth it to him. "What do you need from me? I think we can all agree I've been a good boy and we can put all this bullshit behind us—"

"Lightning—"

"Sorry, sorry, you all know what I mean." Seriously, they were all adults here! Harv could chill.

There was a pause that indicated that maybe they didn't all know what he meant. The longer it went on, the more Lightning's stomach roiled.

"Well?" he said again, glancing at Mack, who looked bemused as usual.

"Lightning, the thing is, we're just not sure," Rusty finally said, his voice crackling through the speakerphone.

His stomach dropped. "Not sure? My dude, I've been patient for months, and Lille is in two weeks, and it's literally the perfect opportunity to re-launch me. I could stay in Swynlake. Home base here and just travel on the weekends for races. It'd be a little more travel than usual once we start getting to the West Coast season, but..."

"I know. I know, Lightning. We're just... not sure."

Lightning cycled through a lot of reactions in the span of thirty seconds. Anxiety, disappointment, frustration— but he settled on anger. Because really, that was how he mostly felt. He was angry. These fucking people had strung him along for eight months, telling him to be a little more patient, to wait a little longer, and now they didn't even have the guts to fire him properly.

Had they ever even intended to? Or were they just trying to slowly ghost him? Was sending him to this shitty little town really a strategic move, or were they just trying to get him out of the way until he gave up?

Well, Lightning wasn't giving up. He hadn't come this far to give up. Didn't they know him better? Didn't they know he was motivated by spite, fueled by it just as much as his carbo-loading pre-race pasta feasts? It was effective against his enemies. And now it was going to be effective against his supposed "allies."

"I can't believe this."

"Lightning..." Not-Chuck started, and Lightning couldn't stand that pitying condescension in his voice.

"No, no, I'm not doing this shit. You're not seriously going to tell me two weeks out from the first race of the season that you're not sure you're continuing with the deal. What, are you gonna let me know the morning of the race? I don't like being strung along. What is this, fucking high school? You're hoping I'll be the one to break up with you first?"

That was how it felt, really. That awful, petty dance of teenage dating. It was insulting, really. Did they really think he wouldn't figure it out?

"Monty, can we sidebar after this?" Harv said forcefully, as though daring him to interrupt her. She sounded irritated. "Rusty, Dusty, this is good info. Mike's assistant will follow up with you. We'll work out a plan. Lightning, you'll be looped in, obviously."

"Will I?" Lightning said it listlessly, suddenly checked-out after having thrown his little fit. He glanced at Mack, who just stared back at him with wide, terrified eyes.

He barely paid attention to the rest of the call, logistics and then pleasantries that really all amounted to the same answer, the answer Lightning hadn't wanted. He was getting benched.

He tried to tell Harv as much after everyone else had left the call. "I mean, I had one question. They refused to answer it. Which pretty much tells us everything we need to know," Lightning sighed.

"Monty, it's more complicated than that."

"Is it?" His tone was less angry now, more tired. "It's never been complicated before. This can't just be about those fucking tweets. It's been eight months."

Harv sounded equally exhausted. Which annoyed Lightning. This wasn't her life. This wasn't her livelihood. Lightning would keep her on the payroll, regardless of what Rusty and Dusty said, right?

"We're just... we've still gotta work out what your comeback angle is—"

"Comeback? I never left!"

"Okay, but it looks like..."

"Only because Rusty and Dusty are fucking benching me!"

Harv sighed. "Monty. I'm trying to help you out here."

"Well, it's not very helpful."

There was a stony silence.

"Look, I'm sorry," Lightning finally said. "This isn't your fault. I'll figure it out. I won't let you down. Rusty and Dusty are gonna be so sorry they ever dragged their feet."

"Please just... be sensible, alright?" Harv replied, knowing she wouldn't win this war. She'd have to pick her battles.

"When am I ever not?"

And suddenly, Lightning remembered: he had the perfect opportunity in front of him. And he'd practically already committed to him. He didn't need Rust-Eze. Well, he kind of did, but he could make it look like he didn't. He was gonna jump into this thing Cruz had pitched him, full force. And that would show Rust-Eze.

#self para

[exaltatuss]

"Father told me to hand this to you." Arancia spokey tossing a key to Osiria. "It's for your old room, go check it out." Arancia seemed uncharacteristically quiet and somber, as she walked away without another word to Osiria.

Osiria would find her room in perfect condition. Some cakes were there, the candles still lit, obviously birthday cakes that remained fresh. Likely some void-fuckery from Ruby.

Not to mention there were a lot of presents everywhere. Ranging from money, countless of Ruby's inventions, all the way to training gear and money too.

A lot of letters on the desk, there was a couple ones too, a few crumbled eveny while others were stained with tears.

Hey dear

I hope you know that you hurt Chione badly, that you hurt me badly, but despite what you've done I can't hate you. It's my fault for not raising you well. I can only hate myself for being a dumb shit.

I still love you Osiria, I always will. I hope you come back one day.

-Ruby

There seemed quite a few such letters with similar tones.

Another more recent one seemed rather well kept, this one not crumbled or stained with tears.

Heya kiddo!

Hope the current dream cycle is treating you well! I've been having a blast myself!

How are my grandkids? How's the wife and how are you? I hope you're doing well and I hope you know I'm proud of you and I love you my child.

I was a shitty father, can't work around it. I celebrated your birthday and such while you were away, hence all the presents, cake and such, hope ya enjoy it!

I put in around 10 million lien here and a lotta my inventions and blueprints fpr you to use for your kingdom.

But that's besides the point, isn't it? I hope you find it in yourself one day to forgive this old man of yours for her countless mistakes.

With all love and regards

-Ruby

"... Hm." Really. No teasing her, or poking fun of her, or even trying to get under her skin this time? What's gotten to Arancia, so to speak? Still, the key to her old room? Really, shouldn't have.

That's what she at least thought, until she went over to said room, only to see the... Various of things placed inside, and all in pristone condition too. Cakes weres till there, fresh, and still lit, the gifts also still preserved to being brand new. Hell, she can feel that several of the other presents were from the previous dream cycle, while most were also from the current dream cycle.

Of course, the only thing that look rather disorganized were the various letters on her desk. Several crumbled. Others stained with dried up tears, making them ineligible to read. But among those, were one that she can read clearly, despite being also stained with tears. It read:

Hey dear

I hope you know that you hurt Chione badly, that you hurt me badly, but despite what you've done I can't hate you. It's my fault for not raising you well. I can only hate myself for being a dumb shit.

I still love you Osiria, I always will. I hope you come back one day.

-Ruby

"..." This letter, along with the other disorganized ones, were most likely made during the previous dream cycle, specifically the time where she went drunk in power, and only desired to become even more powerful, causing atrocities that she's still disgusted to ever remember doing to this day.

Having perfect memory can be a curse, especially if one were to remember the bad things, too.

"... Tch." Of course a lump formed on her throat. While she has indeed resolved her inner conflict nowadays, the past things she had done still hit like a truck, even moreso the ripple effect it had inflicted over to the others. Pain, disappointment, and self-blame. Osiria had caused this to those that mattered to her, and at the same time, to herself.

She read through the other letters of similar tone, realizing that Ruby had done this regularly back then, in hopes that she would return, the lump on her throat being felt by her even moreso.

Though that wasn't broke the dam. Its the newer letter that made her lose it.

A tone of happiness, one that's more relaxed, and casual. As Ruby stated in the letter, she was having a blast, all while asking of her on how is she, and how is her family, along with the gifts, celebrating her birthday, and how much she has been proud of her, as well as the hopes that she would forgive Ruby for not being too much of a model father that she was supposed to be.

Of course, she can't stop the tears now. She stood there, silently, her breathing shaky, as she processed her thoughts.

Really, Ruby shouldn't have. She already done plenty enough to make up for her shortcomings back then.

Osiria had already forgiven her long ago.

After composing herself proper, Osiria would wipe away her tears, a wry smile on her face. Ruby may or may not be able to hear what she is about to say next, but she'll say it anyway.

"Thank you... Father. I know it also came from you that sometimes, people are not obligated to forgive you over things you have done... But I do. I forgive you. And I, too, am sorry, for causing pain to you and mother back then, for being such a disappointment."

And she'd continue.

"And thank you, Father. Thank you for not ever giving up on me."

#submission #ancientforged #long post

[mynewfancyblog]

The Ruinous Manifesto

AM I DEAD? 

I hope not.

Throughout my time, I actively struggled with rapidly cycling bipolar disorder, where my moods lasted three to five business days and could reach levels of internal explosions or “excitement” attacks, which functioned the same as panic attacks, as well as spiraling suicidality.

While I am now on a contribution of medication that works significantly well for me, it shows in my past blogging experience the troubles I experienced. 

My photos most directly coordinate with this theme. They represent the tortuous experiences of hypomania, with its restlessness, impulsivity, and paranoia. I always felt like a stranger to others and I was somehow playing life on a “hard” difficulty. The colors/hues in the photos represent this disconnection from my peers as my emotions purely consuming my life. One of the other ideas I had for the photos was a box of hair dye as it represents some of the creativity I possess, but also how some of my dedications have longer impacts. Sometimes I’ll do activities for hours and hours straight, and that tendency isn’t very good for my physical health. I also considered showing a clean plate as it would contrast the typical dirty plate to show a relentless lack of appetite- either from constant mental distraction or overtaking emotional numbness.

Regarding my hobbies, I already mentioned that I dive too heavily into them at times. One of these pursuits was creative writing, in which I went headfirst into overly ambitious plots and near novels. During my parents’ divorce, I was especially unstable. and I wrote over 3,000 words every week and wrote over 150,000 words in the end before I burnt out. Before my bipolar diagnosis, I simply thought I was a great writer with extreme motivation that dimmed with my occasional depression, but now I see the patterns of overly dedicating myself then burning out on a loop.

While my playlist mostly contained upbeat songs, it had an underlying theme of sadness and nostalgia. The first song represents a lingering feeling about wanting to be a kid again in a Denny’s, which really connects to my overall mental health since the last time I can recall being happy (aside from very recently) was elementary school. Later on through the exploration in music, I later distracted myself with the Spotify mix of Frank Valli and the Four Seasons. Music and general art has served as a great distraction for my mental health, and sometimes these assignments offered that escape for me.

Though the exploration of experimental film, I discovered my disappointment to see a lack of violent gore. Considering that the video briefly had topics of violence, I assumed that there would be a dark dramatic twist. This idea comes from my past of watching similar videos, either by accident or on purpose. I’ll spare the details of what exactly I’ve seen, but I mainly watched that content in order to feel something new. Sometimes it made me paranoid and I wouldn’t sleep for a while, but it was better than crying in my bed for an hour or for no reason.

Overall, I would never dedicate my life and motto to my current manifesto. However, I overall believe the sentiment that “Life sucks until it doesn’t” or from an AJR song “God’s … fake until he’s not” (even though I’m not religious). I hope to stray away from my past mindset and towards a happier lifestyle as I pass through the rest of my high school career and into my college life as hopefully a different person. I never enjoyed high school as I always felt like my life was falling apart, but now I’m reasonably enjoying my hobbies, only going through the occasional depressive mood swing, and I feel less paranoia- which is great since I’ll be moving towards a more independent lifestyle. I still feel like I don’t know how to do things the way a normal person would, but it’s important that I’m doing life the best I can. My destiny in the future will be The Improving Manifesto, but that shall be written when it is not finals week.

Thank you for this course, genuinely.

(702 words)

[vrmxlho]

hi zaina, im taking you up on your prev post ab anons getting things off their chest. first off, i adore your blog and your writing (esp speak easy speak love), and thank you for doing this ^^

i got waitlisted by a college i really wanted to go to. dream school and whatnot, it had a 20% acceptance rate and i got waitlisted. this is after i had a really shitty application cycle and overall a bad year in 2022 and i was liek: YEAH 2023 is going to be my year. for a while, it was. i got called for a scholarship interview, selected to possibly go to a t5 uni but that fell through. this entire admissions cycle I’ve just gotten “almosts” but never “yes”. and i know it’s not all black and white, but a rejection is a rejection, yk??? it reallly crushes me because i know how hard i worked for this. i really wanted to go to these places and getting those almost rejections makes me feel so horrible. i genuinely want to give up and stop trying because then i know i won’t be disappointed again. and i know adult life has literally just stated for me but why should i put myself through that struggle to eventually end up disappointed anyways?

sorry for the rant. i think ill get over it soon.sorry if this is overwhelming. have a great day :)

hi anon, first of all ty for the compliments i almost forgot about that smau but yk what i might just post it now 😭😭

anyway to what you were saying. i completely understand what you mean, last year i was in the same position as you, i had gotten acceptances in the uk but i had gotten rejected from all my uni applications in the us, the biggest hit was columbia because that’s where my brother went and he had always told me he’d know i’d get in. and i got an interview and everything and then i open my portal and there’s just a that stupid letter saying “unfortunately”. and it really hurt. because i’d always wanted to go there. it’s in new york it’s in the middle of everything and it’s a fucking ivy league. but no.

and i completely get you on the 2022 being a shit year. in my case it was the year before 2021, i failed my y12 mocks and i had a predicted of 35/45 which isn’t bad but for the unis i wanted to apply to it was very low. i had to beg my uni counsellor to even let me apply to some of my choices. but i got into a great uni here in the uk and i worked my ass off to get top grades and several scholarships to get almost a full ride.

i feel like telling you to work hard just isn’t going to help so let me say this. hard work doesn’t always pay off, especially with unis and i know it’s sad and horrible but that’s just the case. but just know that work ethic is going to help you so so much, i was always a lazy person but after working so hard for the ib now uni is so much simpler because i’m able to work focused and dedicated and finish everything i need to do on time. and ik you’ve probably heard this before but waitlisted is not a rejection, it’s not an almost rejection either. and let’s not forget that getting into a uni with 20% acceptance rate is insanely difficult and just so yk i’m so so proud of you for all the work you’ve put into your application and i wish you luck in this endeavour.

last thing cuz this is getting so long, my friend did this a while back to get out of a waitlist, but write letters to your uni about how excited you are for this opportunity, ask for updates on your application and be super super annoying about this. ask them every other day and tell them just how grateful you are for the opportunity. worst case you stay on the waitlist. but best case you get a place, it’s worked before so. feed into their ego!!

i hope you know that you’re not alone and there are thousands of people who feel the way you do and you all deserve a place at your top school.

#dw about overwhelming me this was not in any way daunting #i hope this helped in a way (?) #ik how scary your last year can be it’s going to decide your future so it feels shit #i had a friend who applied for medicine in the uk n she did so many exams just to not hear back until the end of march #she applied in october btw so those 5 months were so stressful for her #anyway #i hope you are well anon <3 #ily #(✉️) — anon

[aakristinejoyce]

how to,

I always believe I was damaged, that something went wrong growing up. I had an unlucky hand, and this world keeps on proving me right. My chances are limited, luck was never on my side. It pushed me to always work hard for every little thing though. I still get disappointed when something went wrong, but the funny thing is, I get more surprised when something went right in the first try. It's not because I am preparing myself for the worst case scenario, it's just how things always run down for me. I am never one to get an easy pass.

It's because of this I have learned the value of self preservation. As human nature kicks in, our instinct heightens and do what is necessary to survive, to live. And in this cycle of life where strength is valued by how much adversity you get through, you get to learn where to fight or flight. You get to understand the basic complexity of how this world wasn't just black and white. That right wasn't always good, and good wasn't always right. That yes can also be a no, and surrendering is how you win a fight. That there is always more to the story, and us is just a dusty particle of existence. That you know some things about the world, but at the same time you don't. You get to experience a whole lot, yet a list of nevers still lingers in your mind. You've seen a lot, you've been through so much, you've been there done that, yet still a virgin of so many wonders and ruins. The world is your oyster as they say, but it was also your bear trap. Impulsivity can get you killed, but so is being a ship on the shore when the ocean is just up ahead. It can kill the purpose of why it's made in the first place, until its essence is long gone.

So what do we do? We listen to the greatest story teller of all time - time. When it's time to sail, we sail. When it's time to heal, we heal. When it's time to let go, we unclasp. When it's time rest, we lay down. But how can we be sure if we are listening right? We listen with our body. We will sail again and again because our body can't stop being in one place. It itch to be out there. We will heal once the cycle of grief and pain subsides, the body will gradually learn to cope up with a broken heart. You know your letting go when your body started to get lighter. When you are still not ready to hold something new, but your hand learns to dance with the freedom. We will eventually rest no matter how powerful our will is, for our body is a well known compass for self preservation.

This is how I take care of myself, this is how I preserve the light inside, the good, the hope, the strength within. I learned to not push things the way I wanted it to be. I learn to take my place in His grand design. I learn to not push my luck but have faith in His everyday grace. I learn to be patient with my pain and fears but learn to also let out my cries and weep my troubles away. I am never gonna know everything, get the answer to all my questions. I will never have a lucky hand, I can't experience everything this world has to offer, I can try though. But what I can really do to make sure I seize the world, is to learn how to navigate life the best way my body, mind, heart and soul can.

To choose what to love, what to prioritize, what to experience, what to learn, what to feed my spirit, what to stand for, what to hope for, what to believe, what to create and what mark I wanted to leave behind.

...for in the beginning up to the end, you are always free to choose how to live your life.

#llh