#a bit predictable but it’s designed for you to know that

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Interlude

[Prev] [Next]

Law hated change.

Even the slightest shift in his day-to-day routine had him crawling into his protective shell of a mind, keeping him away from any potential harm.  If the weather app on his phone predicted wind gusts of 19 miles per hour, and they ended up being 20, that was enough to ruin his day.

Needless to say, he was not enthused by the new addition to the study group he had formed with Shachi, Penguin, and Penguin’s girlfriend Ikkaku.  He had arrived at the usual study room about 15 minutes before his friends did, as was his usual routine.  He enjoyed the fleeting time spent alone to organize his classwork as well as his racing thoughts.  He couldn’t do that with a new pair of eyes staring at him, also having arrived early.  At first, he thought that you were using the study room by yourself for a different reason, unaware that it was rented out for the next hour and a half.

“Who are you?” he asked, dry and monotone.  The average person would have probably taken great offense to his offputting and sour demeanor.

With skeptical confusion, you stated your name.  “I’m Ikkaku’s roommate, I take the same class as you guys, just a different section,” you explained.  

Law’s jaw clenched.  So much for his assumption that you had no affiliation with any of his personal connections.  “Who invited you?”

You cocked one of your eyebrows.  “Ikkaku.”

Figures.  “Why?”

“... Because I’m taking the same class and wanted to join a study group?” you offered, seriously growing skeptical.  “Do you have a problem with that?  Do you want me to fork over a down payment for your time or something?”

Law’s eyes narrowed at your attitude.  “I don’t appreciate the lip.”

“And I don’t appreciate your exclusion from a study group,” you stated back, matching his energy.  “If you really don’t want me here, then I’ll leave.  But I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Law wanted to tell you to leave.  He wanted to tell you to never come back to this study room during his specifically designated hours, effectively closing his life off from you for good.  He had no room for new relationships.  He had his two friends from childhood, and that was all he needed.  He was even reluctant to bring in Penguin’s girlfriend, but the desperate man pestered until Law couldn’t stand his moping anymore.  Just as the black-haired man was about to open his mouth and bark at you to get out of his room, a firm hand smacked the back of his shoulder.

“Hey, Law!  I’m a bit early, so I grabbed some snacks from the cafeteria.  You know, some brain food.”  Shachi pushed past him, slapping a granola bar into his chest.  “Oh, hey!  You decided to join us!”

Clearly, you were already familiar with Shachi, much to Law’s chagrin.  You nodded excitedly as the redhead took off his pointed shades and plopped his small backpack down next to your seat, rummaging through his mess of disorganized papers and taking out his class materials for their study session.

“I’m excited to finally have a group to study with, I’ve been struggling in this class,” you added, smiling brightly at the man next to you.  You tossed a sour side eye towards Law who still stood frozen in the doorway.  “I hope I won’t be too much of an issue for you guys.”

Now you were playing dirty.

His thoughts were once again interrupted, though, as Penguin pushed his way through the heavy private room’s door with Ikkaku in tow, who quickly plopped herself next to you, pulling out her phone and talking about a meme she saw earlier that she couldn’t wait to show you.

Law was officially trapped in this predicament.  There was nothing he could do but sit down at the end of the table and deal with the cards he had been dealt.

—

About a week had passed since you joined Law’s thrice-a-week study group, and for the most part, you had kept to yourself.  It seemed you were either genuinely anxious over Law’s distasteful attitude towards you, or you just couldn’t care enough to give him the time of day.  Whatever it was, the human health sciences and biology undergrad was more than pleased to not have to speak to you.

Until you sat across from him at his small, solitary table in the corner of the south campus dining hall.

“Before you say anything,” you began, shrugging off the angry glare he shot your way.  Law was a bit taken aback by how… anxious you looked.  “There’s a guy that’s been following me around all day.  I’m starting to get kind of scared and you’re the only person here right now that I’m vaguely familiar with.”

Law felt his eyebrows crease.  “Following you?”

You anxiously unpacked your small lunch box, removing a tupperware full of what appeared to be some form of leftovers.  “He asked me out a few days ago and I rejected him… and he hasn’t stopped lowkey stalking me since.  Yesterday, he tried to get into my dorm building.”

The black-haired student’s golden eyes darted around the open dining hall, searching for anyone who appeared even slightly suspicious.  “Do you know where he is right now?”

“In the lunch line, I think.”

It was then that Law spotted a gangly-looking student, a few inches shorter than himself and fairly unkempt, step out of the lunch line with a metal tray sporting a single dry apple and freezer wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  The kid tossed a few analytical glaces around the dining hall before his eyes landed on Law’s, followed by the back of your head.

“Found him,” Law muttered.

Your shoulders visibly stiffened.  Something in his chest clenched.

The imposing student began clearing the dining hall with long, desperate strides, his eyes growing angrier the closer he got to you.  He slammed his tray down on the table, rattling your’s and Law’s lunches.  The motion made you flinch and you instinctively moved further against the wall.

“Why are you running away from me?” the stranger growled.

You kept your mouth shut, awkwardly pushing your leftovers around your tupperware with your fork.

The biology student cleared his throat.  “Can I help you?”

“This is none of your business, prick,” the kid spat, grabbing an empty chair from nearby and swinging it over so he could be seated directly next to you.  “Did you block my phone number?  All I wanted to do was talk.”

Law didn’t know what came over him.  He didn’t like you, and frankly, he wanted nothing to do with your business.  But the sight of your harasser’s distasteful language and threatening posture towards you as you appeared to be shrinking into your clothes made something snap in Law’s head.  With one smooth motion, he yanked the metal lunch tray off of the table, sending it to the ground with a large clattering noise that made you jump in surprise, alerting students at nearby tables and turning all the attention toward him.  A few nearby conversations halted, surprised by the sudden clamor.

“I’d appreciate it if you could leave my girlfriend alone,” he spat.  He had officially lost control of his life.

The kid finally turned his attention away from you.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

You anxiously darted your eyes up toward Law, frazzled by the suddenness of his statement.  He shot you a look that made you keep your lips sealed.

“You didn’t tell me you were dating someone,” the kid suddenly turned back toward you.

“It’s none of your business,” you shot back, finally recovering from your frightened demeanor and pushing yourself further into the wall, backing away from the kid.  You had an inkling of what Law was trying to convey with his words.  Portray you as taken to get the man threatening you to finally back off, and give you a sense of comfort and protection that you didn’t actually have.  The thought made your heart swell.

Law finally stood from his seat, towering over your harasser.  “Leave.  Us.  Alone.”

The kid stood up as well, attempting to square off with the taller boy, but Law’s threatening glare and the shadow cast over his eyes by his shaggy black bangs did numbers for the stranger’s withering self confidence.  With a huff, he bent down, snatched his tray and food from the ground, and stalked off.  Conversations at nearby tables finally resumed, students pleased to be able to go about the rest of their lunches without any sort of commotion.  When Law sat back down, he found himself surprised at how pleased he was when your shoulders slumped with relief.

“I’m so sorry to have dragged you into that…” you muttered, closing your tupperware.  You had officially lost any and all appetite.  “I don’t normally get scared when I’m followed, but…”

Law shrugged, filling in the silence of your words trailing off.  “It’s fine.”  He didn’t miss the way your gaze anxiously turned to look behind you, watching as the kid dumped his uneaten food in the trash and sulked out of the building into the mid-autumn chill.  “You can stay here if you want.”  His voice left his lips before his brain could fight back against his words.

You stared at him, wide-eyed.  “Are you… sure?”  To say you weren’t expecting his suddenly cordial behavior was an understatement.  Just a week ago he was treating you like the dirt under his shoe, ruining his day with the inconvenience of your presence.  “You’re not having a brain aneurysm or something, right?  Or some tumor?”

The black-haired man snorted.  “Not that I know of.”

With a swelling in your chest, you dug through your lunch box and pulled out a smaller snack, something to at least tide you over until your appetite hopefully returned.  The two of you fell into a somewhat comfortable silence as Law picked through his meal, flipping through a small textbook.  He was eating some kind of orzo dish, taking small bites out of a metal spoon.  It was then you finally zoned in on the tattoos on his hands.  The backs of his hands had an interesting four-pronged cross design, and the ends of each finger spelled out the words ‘DEATH.’  You had seen him in a t-shirt at the last study group meeting, where you learned he also had matching tattoos on each forearm.  The low-hanging collar of his cotton shirt had also revealed hints of a chest piece.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” you spoke up, keeping your voice fairly quiet.

Law tore his eyes away from his textbook.  “Yeah?”

“Shachi told me you want to be a medical student, right?” you asked, keeping your eyes trained on his lanky fingers rather than his face.

“What about it?” he asked, slowly growing impatient.

“Do you think having ‘DEATH’ spelled out on your fingers will make it harder for you to become a doctor?”

Law paused.  He had only had that fleeting thought once or twice since getting his hands inked when he was 18.  Shachi and Penguin had begged him to reconsider, stating adamantly that they wouldn’t trust a doctor who had ‘DEATH’ quite literally on his hands, but he had gone through with it anyway.  “I sure hope not,” was all he replied with.

His words made a small smile break out onto your lips.  “I think I’d trust a doctor who had ‘DEATH’ written on his hands.  At least it would make more sense if he killed me.”

Something in Law’s mind flipped at that moment.  The way that small grin tugged on your lips followed by your cheeky words made his chest flutter in a way he had never experienced before.  He stared at you as you turned your attention back to your snack, pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans, idly swiping through it while you ate.  He turned his attention back to his textbook, trying once more to focus on his studies.  His eyes darted from the words on the page to the letters inked into his fingers.

He suddenly wanted to see that smile much more often.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

[kaasiand]

S1 flounder if it was good

#I've had the idea of “flounder with tunnels connecting the two low grounds” since all the way back in S1. I finally get to make it real #The map just feels so much less real in 3. Fuck man #Also you know how some weapons have trouble getting up the walls? Yeah don't do what S3 did and flatten the entire map bc then the map's #whole design will just completely fall apart. That's why I added some dashpads in key spots; extremely useful though a bit predictable #splatoon #splatoon 3 #my art #3d art

[tj-crochets]

Idk what I want to work on next besides probably another giant octopus and a Bucky Bear for my MTH auction fill, so I'm taking suggestions! What do you think I should make next?

#the person behind the yarn #as usual I make no promises or guarantees about what I will make #I never know what spark of imagination will ignite #and suddenly pivot my focus to be lasered in on making a giant octopus for like an entire day #could not have predicted that one lol #also I found someone else's large octopus plushie and their pattern looks significantly easier to design #way more complex to sew! #but simpler to design #I usually fall on the 'I'd rather it be easy to design and complex to sew instead of easy to sew and complex to design' side of the scale #so idk why the octopus was such an exception for me? #but it really is! it's surprisingly extremely easy to sew #I mean. like. a lotta curves to sew #but if you pull a bit on the fabric as you sew the tentacles you just get tentacles that are twisting a little #which is fine because they are tentacles. if anything it's a bonus and makes them look better

[simcardiac-arrested]

ummm... rainswap ns an nwb...

it’s a little funny how me and my friends have actually discussed a hypothetical nwb and ns swap a few times already before this whole thing … But it was more like a swap of circumstances ? iirc it would be that wayback doesn’t try at all and still gets everything done, and sep does a lot of stuff and tries so much but nothing ever works out for them. imagine with me

#i havent really thought about their designs though or if they’d swap designs at all #i know underswap is all about like . design/personality swaps which is nice and all #but i feel like that’s a bit boring ? and kind of predictable. like if you swap wayback’s and sep’s personalities it’s kind of obvious how #that will turn out. But swapping roles/circumstances? thas just more fun #yes i do know there was a literal roleswap undertale au that was called like. uhmm #scratches head #storyshift or something #…. ​i guess i just described a hypothetical storyshift au then #cramswering

[writingworlds]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐄

Pairing(s): Charles Leclerc x Porsche!reader

Summary: The Porsche Princess, that nickname has followed Y/N around since birth. And who better for a princess than a prince?

Warning(s): shitty Google translate

yn_porsche

liked by milaaa, porsche, mickschumacher, and others

yn_porsche Essen und Freunde 🤍

view all comments

milaaa Mach keine Witze, du liebst das Essen mehr als ich 😘

papaporsche meine Prinzessin

yn_porsche Ich liebe dich Papa ❤️❤️

mickschumacher and where was my invitation?

yn_porsche sorry Micky but it was a girls only event

username hello??? not mick attempting to shoot his shot 😭😭

username girl I hate to break it to you but mick and y/n are only friends. They’ve known each other for years now

username day 673 of asking for Porsche to rejoin f1 permanently

milaaa 🤭🤭🤭

username milaaa WHAT DO YOU KNOW

milaaa oh nothing at all 🤭

yn_porsche 🫣🫣🫣

username y/n drop the pie recipe because it looks delicious

username y/n drop the makeup routine because you are gorgeous

username well that too

f1

liked by porscheagracing, yn_porsche, papaporsche, and others

f1 Welcome to the paddock porscheagracing!

view all comments

porscheagracing Excited to be here!

username JSHSHD OMG

username RACING ROYALTY IS BACK BABY

username ….wait…does this mean we will be able to see THE Y/N Porsche in the paddock

yn_porsche no promises but I do hope to make it to at least one Grand Prix!! Most likely the German one 😉

username DOES THIS MEAN THAT HOCKENHEIMRING IS RETURNING TOO

username THE RUMOURS WERE TRUE

username 11 teams f1 is so back

username I CANT WAIT

porscheagracing

liked by f1, mickschumacher, yn_porsche, and others

porscheagracing Get to know us!

Who We Are: Originally founded in 1931 by Ferdinand Porsche, Porsche was meant to represent excellence, luxury, and class.

Our story starts with the creation of our first sports car, the 356, to our unveiling of the legendary 911. But those are simply designs of luxury sports cars, they do not encapsulate our rich heritage of motorsport.

We have dominated various endurance championships, most notably being the 24 Hours of Le Mans. It is time, however, to take that dominance to open wheel and Grand Prix racing.

What We Do: We will be competing in Formula One starting from the 2025 season. Our goal is to bring a sense of rejuvenation back to the world of Formula One (and of course take a few world championships while we are at it).

Our team: Holding the words power, precision, and performance in mind we created a team of uniquely qualified individuals to make sure we excel in all aspects.

- CEO: Henrik Porsche

- Team Principal: Sebastian Vettel

- Technical Director: Julia Wagner

- Chief Aerodynamicist: Karl Becker

- Chief Mechanic: Michael Braun

- Strategy Coordinator: Lisa Fischer

Information on our drivers will be released shortly.

Wagen Sie es, sich von Träumen mitreißen zu lassen.

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username is that Sebastian Vettel I see???

username try as he might he can’t escape motorsport 😭😭😭

mickschumacher 🖤❤️💛

yn_porsche F1 BABY

username please please please let Mick Schumacher be one of the drivers

username if his hearts mean anything you might be in luck

username maybe I’m just dumb but did anyone else just realise that the Porsche team colours are the same as the German flag 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

username it’s not just you I promise 😭😭

username any predictions on how good they’ll be? Cause I’m thinking they’ll start as a midfield car this year and then very quickly work their way up to the top

username i agree, they had Vettel on board as TP so he’ll give them plenty of experience in that regard but otherwise it will probably take them a bit of time to get used to f1 itself. once they do however….the rest of the grid best be prepared

username honestly i just can’t wait till they gain major sponsorship deals

username from twitter i heard they may have deals from Apple, Hermès, and of course Volkswagen

porscheagracing

liked by arthur_leclerc, mickschumacher, yn_porsche, and others

porscheagracing Please give a warm welcome to your drivers for the 2025 season arthur_leclerc and mickschumacher

view all comments

mickschumacher Lass uns gehen Porsche 🖤❤️💛

arthur_leclerc Thank you so much for this opportunity

charles_leclerc Congratulations little bro, f1!!!

username THE LECLERC BROTHERS IN F1 IM GONNA CRY

username NO BECAUSE IM SO PROUD LIKE THESE ARE MY CHILDREN

yn_porsche Zeit, Rennen zu fahren 🫡🫡

arthur_leclerc I am going to pretend I understand what you are saying

yn_porsche someone is going to need to teach you German

milaaa I volunteer as tribute 🫡🫡

yn_porsche ah yes because you are known for your brilliant teaching strategies

milaaa shush

papaporsche Welcome to the team you two! Here’s to an incredible first season in Formula 1

mickschumacher Wir lassen Sie nicht im Stich, Chef

arthur_leclerc Gonna make Porsche proud

sebastianvettel Pleasure to be working with you both 😊

username plsssss he’s such a dad

username and we love him for it

username oh for sure

Charles Leclerc

alors... Y/N Porsche

Arthur Leclerc

frérot c'est quoi ce bordel

#f1 x reader #f1 social media au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #formula one imagine #writingworlds

[santacoppelia]

Putting the Meta in "Metatron"

(couldn't resist the pun, sorry)

Ok, this has been tickling my brain for a while. I've been thinking about how The Metatron designed his role and discourse specifically to manipulate Aziraphale into the end result we saw in the last minutes of S2. I become obsessed with it because… well, I'm a bit obsessive, but also because there were many really smart writing decisions that I loved (even when I despise The Metatron exactly for the same reasons. Hate the character, love the writer). If you haven't watched Good Omens Season 2, this is the moment to stop reading. Come back later!

We already know that in Book Omens, the role of Gabriel in the ending was occupied by The Metatron. Of course, the series introduced us to Gabriel and we won a lot by that, but I feel that the origins of The Metatron should be considered for any of this. He is not a "sweet old man": he was the one in charge of seeing over the operation of Armageddon; not just a stickler of rules, but the main promoter for it.

However, when he appears in the series finale, we first are primed to almost pass him by. He is in the line for buying coffee, using clothes that are:

obviously not tailored (almost ill fitted)

in dark tones

looking worn and wrinkled

This seems so important to me! All the angels we have seen are so proud of their aspect, wear clear (white or off white) clothes, pressed, impeccable (even Muriel), even when they visit the Earth (which we have already seen on S1 with all the visits to the bookshop). The Metatron chose a worn, comfortable attire, instead. This is a humanized look, something that fools all the angels but which would warm up someone very specific, can you guess?

After making quite a complicated coffee order (with sort of an affable and nervous energy), he makes a question that Crowley had already primed for us when asking Nina about the name of the coffee: having a "predictable" alternative and an unpredictable one.

This creates an interesting parallel with the next scene: Michael is discussing the possibility of erasing Aziraphale from The Book of Life (a punishment even worse than Holy Water on demons, because not having existed at all, EVER is definitely worse than having existed and ceased to exist at some point) when The Metatron arrives, interrupts the moment and signals having brought coffee. Yup, an amicable gesture, but also a "not death" offering that he shows clearly to everyone (even when Michael or Uriel do not understand or care for it. It wasn't meant for them). He even dismisses what Michael was saying as "utter balderdash" and a "complete piffle", which are the kind of outdated terms we have heard Aziraphale use commonly. So, The Metatron has put up this show for a specific audience of one.

The next moment on the script has Metatron asking Crowley for the clarification of his identity. Up to this moment, every angel has been ignoring the sprawled demon in the corner while discussing how to punish Aziraphale… But The Metatron defers to the most unlikely person in the room, and the only one who will push any buttons on Aziraphale: Crowley. After that, Aziraphale can recognize him, and Metatron dismisses the "bad angels" (using Aziraphale's S1 epithet) with another "catchy old phrase", "spit spot", while keeping Muriel at the back and implying that there is a possibility to "check after" if those "bad angels" have done anything wrong.

Up to this moment, he has played it perfectly. The only moment when he loses it is when he calls Muriel "the dim one", which she ignores… probably because that's the usual way they get talked to in Heaven. I'm not sure if Aziraphale or Crowley cared for that small interaction, but it is there for us (the audience) to notice it: the sympathy the character might elicit is built and sought, but he is not that nice.

After that, comes "the chinwag" and the offer of the coffee: the unnecessarily complicated order. It is not Aziraphale's cup of tea (literally), but it is so specific that it creates some semblance of being thought with care, and has a "hefty jigger" of syrup (again with the funny old words). And, as Aziraphale recognizes, it is "very nice!" (as The Metatron "jolly hoped so"), and The Metatron approves of him drinking it by admitting he has "ingested things in my time, you know?". This interaction is absolutely designed to build a bridge of understanding. The Metatron probably knew that the first response he would get was a "no", so he tailored his connection specifically to "mirror" Aziraphale: love of tasty human treats he has also consumed, funny old words like the ones he loves, a very human, worn, well-loved look. That was the bait for "the stroll": the moment when Aziraphale and Crowley get separated, because The Metatron knew that being close to Crowley, Aziraphale would have an hypervigilant soundboard to check the sense of what he was going to get offered. That's what the nasty look The Metatron gives to Crowley while leaving the bookshop builds (and it gets pinpointed by the music, if you were about to miss it).

The next thing we listen from The Metatron is "You don't have to answer immediately, take all the time you need" in such a friendly manner… we can see Aziraphale doubting a little, and then comes the suggestion: "go and tell your friend the good news!". This sounds like encouragement, but is "the reel". He already knows how Crowley would react, and is expecting it (we can infer it by his final reaction after going back for Aziraphale after the break up, but let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we?). He even can work up Muriel to take care of the bookshop while waiting for the catch.

What did he planted in Aziraphale's mind? Well, let's listen to the story he has to tell:

"I don't think he's as bad a fellow… I might have misjudged him!" — not strange in Aziraphale to have such a generous spirit while judging people. He's in a… partnership? relationship? somethingship? with a demon! So maybe first impressions aren't that reliable anyway. The Metatron made an excellent job with this, too.

"Michael was not the obvious candidate, it was me!" — This idea is interesting. Michael has been the stickler, the rule follower, even the snitch. They have been rewarded and recognized by that. Putting Aziraphale before Michael in the line of succession is a way of recognizing not only him, but his system of values, which has always been at odds with the main archangels (even when it was never an open fight).

"Leader, honest, don't tell people what they want to hear" — All these are generic compliments. The Metatron hasn't been that aware of Aziraphale, but are in line with what would have been said of any "rebel leader". They come into context with the next phrase.

"That's why Gabriel came to you, I imagine…" — I'm pretty sure The Metatron didn't imagine this, ha. He is probably imagining that the "institutional problem" is coalescing behind his back, and trying to keep friends close, but enemies closer… while dividing and conquering. If Gabriel rebelled, and then went searching for Aziraphale (and Crowley, they are and item and he knows it), that might mean a true risk for his status quo and future plans.

Heaven has great plans and important projects for you — this is to sweeten the pot: the hefty jigger of almond syrup. You will be able to make changes! You can make a difference from the inside! Working for an old man who feels strangely familiar! And who recognizes your point of view! That sounds like the best job offer of the world, really.

Those, however, are not the main messages (they are still building good will with Aziraphale); they are thought out to build the last, and more important one:

Heaven is well aware of your "de facto partnership" with Crowley…

It would be considered irregular if you wanted to work with him again…

You, and you alone, can bring him to Heaven and restore his full angelic status, so you could keep working together (in very important projects).

Here is the catch. He brought the coffee so he could "offer him coffee", but the implications are quite clear: if you want to continue having a partnership with Crowley, you two must come to Heaven. Anything else would be considered irregular, put them in a worst risk, and maybe, just maybe, make them "institutional enemies". Heaven is more efficient chasing enemies, and they have The Book of Life as a menace.

We already know how scared Aziraphale has always been about upsetting Heaven, but he has learned to "disconnect" from it through the usual "they don't notice". The Metatron came to tell him "I did notice, and it has come back to bite you". The implied counterpart to the offer is "you can always get death". Or even worse, nonexistence (we have already imagined the angst of having one of them condemned to that fate, haven't we?)

When The Metatron arrives, just after seeing Crowley leave the bookshop, distraught, he casually asks "How did he take it?", but he already knows. That was his plan all along: making them break up with an offer Aziraphale could not refuse, but Crowley could not accept. That's why he even takes the license to slightly badmouth Crowley: "Always did want to go his own way, always asking damn fool questions, too". He also arrive with the solution to the only objection Aziraphale would have: Muriel, the happy innocent angel that he received with so much warmth and kindness, is given the opportunity to stay on Earth, taking care of the bookshop. The only thing he would have liked to take with him is not a thing, and has become impossible.

If God is playing poker in a dark room and always smiling, The Metatron is playing chess, and he is quite good at it (that's why he loves everything to be predictable). He is menacing our pieces, and broke our hearts in the process… But I'm pretty sure he is underestimating his opponents. His awful remark of Muriel being "dim"; saying that Crowley "asks damn fool questions", and even believing that Aziraphale is just a softie that can be played like a pipe… That's why telling him the project is "The Second Coming" was an absolute gift for us as an audience, and it prefigures the downfall that is coming — the one Aziraphale, now with nothing to lose, started cooking in his head during that elevator ride (those couple of minutes that Michael Sheen gifted to all of us: the shock, the pain, the fury, and that grin in the end, with the eyes in a completely different emotion). Remember that Aziraphale is intelligent, but also fierce. Guildernstern commited a similar mistake in Hamlet, and it didn't go well:

"Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me."

I'm so excited to learn how this is going to unfold!! Because our heroes have always been very enthusiastic at creating plans together, failed miserably at executing them, and even then succeeding… But now they are apart, more frustrated and the stakes are even higher. Excellent scenario for a third act!

*exits, pursued by a bear*

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #narrative analysis #character analysis #the metatron #and a casual Hamlet quote #just because I love Hamlet

[karajaynetoday]

and i'd give up forever to touch you, cause i know that you'd feel me somehow | jack hughes

Thank you for all the love on hey now, you're an all-star - i am honestly blown away by those notes!! here is a part two. let me know what you think, and what your predictions or desires are for a potential part three! xo

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings:  nothing major. uni stress again, jack being a bit of a dick. angst. all of the angst.

(This is a fem reader insert) read part one here read the part three here

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Waking up was always slightly disorienting for you, and the next morning was no different.

Your dreams could be quite vivid, or you couldn’t remember them at all once you awoke; but the first thing you could sense on this particular morning was the strong scent of coffee wafting through the room. As your eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming in the windows, you became suddenly and painfully aware that you were alone on the couch. A blanket had been draped over you at some stage of your slumber, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face, trying to ignore the anxiety that was building in your chest. You could hear a shower running, somewhere in the hotel suite, and hastily threw the blanket off your body as you scanned the room for your belongings.

Shoes. Where were your shoes? And phone? Keys? Did you bring a bag with you? What time was it? What time did your class start? Would you be able to get an Uber to Campus in time? Wait, was your class online or on campus this morning?

Your brain was churning out a thousand thoughts a minute, and your heart rate was starting to match it. You felt like a deer in headlights. Or a cat under a rocking chair. Or… just… lost. You were so lost.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you jolted, whipping around to face Quinn, who was decked out in a brown leather jacket and grey pants, holding two steaming coffee mugs in his hands.

You must have looked distressed, because Quinn offered you a gentle smile and one of the mugs which you cautiously accepted.

“Thanks, Q. I really should get going soon, though. Get out of your hair before the big draft day circus arrives.” Your voice was still slightly groggy with sleep.

“Take as long as you need, sugarplum. Our call time isn’t for another two hours. Jack’s in the shower, and he’d hate it if you left without saying goodbye.” Quinn raised his eyebrows at you as you both took a sip of coffee.

“Watching Jack try and untangle himself from you on the couch did provide me with my morning entertainment though. Surprised he didn’t end up with another injury given how clumsy he usually is.” You felt your cheeks get warm at Quinn’s comment and the smirk on his face.

“He could’ve just woken me up…” You offered weakly, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

“No offence, but that was a risk that neither of us are willing to take. Not after last summer.” Quinn bit back a laugh as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Last summer at the lake house, you’d stayed up all night trying to finish the latest novel in your favourite fiction series. Jack had come into your room to wake you for the boat day you’d discussed the day before, but instead of a gentle approach to waking you up, he’d literally jumped onto your bed. Which caused you to sit bolt upright and “accidentally” punch him in the face. At least he thought the black eye made him look tough for a couple of weeks.

“Nice jacket, by the way.” You tried to change the subject.

Quinn stood up straight and puffed out his chest.

“You think so? Jack and I got to go down to Hermés and pick out our outfits yesterday. I felt suuuuper out of my league to be honest.”

Your eyes widened at the brand name Quinn just dropped, slightly choking on your coffee.

“Hermés? That’s proper designer, Q. Like, tens of thousands of dollars of jacket, right?”

Quinn didn’t answer you, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face told you that the jacket he was wearing was worth more than six months of your rent. Maybe more.

“Well, we have to do this red carpet thing, and I figured we should probably try a bit harder than team merch.” Quinn reached over and tugged playfully on the sleeve of your hoodie.

Well, Jack’s hoodie. That you happened to be wearing. Which was previously super comfortable, but now felt like your skin was on fire underneath it.

“What time is it, anyway?” There you go again, changing the subject.

“Like, 9.15?” Quinn offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing you the time on his home screen.

9.15? Why was that important to you? What was at 9.15?

The test. In your economics class. Worth a decent chunk of your grade. It was at 9.30am. But was it online or on campus?

You downed the rest of your coffee in one gulp, ignoring how it burned your throat, and thrust your mug back at Quinn before tugging the hoodie over your head and throwing it on the floor. You turned around, searching wildly for your phone and spotting it on the couch where you’d been sleeping, not that long ago. You lunged for it, frantically unlocked and trying to find your university schedule in the calendar app.

“Oh thank god. It’s online. Holy fuck.” You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself down.

“Sugar? You okay?” Jack’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your phone to see him standing in the doorway to his room.

Clad in black jeans, with a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the shower. Shirtless. Of course he was shirtless. You squeezed your eyes shut out of instinct, and also to stop yourself from blatantly checking him out. When you opened them, Jack was striding towards you, his face etched in concern.

“What do you need?” Jack spoke quietly, but firmly, reaching out to rub your arms reassuringly. His touch sent a zap of electricity through you, which seemed to kick your brain back into gear.

“I need… Do you have a laptop I can borrow? I have an online test in 15 minutes that I forgot about, for a subject I’m almost failing, and if I miss the test then I don’t know that I’ll be able to recover my grade.” You half-whispered, almost wishing that Jack and Quinn couldn’t hear your confession out loud.

You were supposed to be the smart one. That’s what everyone said, when you were growing up. You were the brains, Jack was the beauty. You were the bookish one, he was the brutally athletic one. Talking about failing university out loud was suddenly terrifying, even though you’d known it was a possibility for a few weeks or more.

“Hey… hey.” Jack squeezed your arms, trying to centre you, and dropped his head down to your eye level. “It’s okay. I’ve got a laptop you can use, and you can stay here for as long as you need.”

All you could muster was a nod in response, and Jack leaned in to kiss your forehead before disappearing back into his room, presumably to find his laptop. You sat back down on the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.

Quinn had briefly left to place your coffee mug in the kitchenette, but he was back and leaned over the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.

“You’ll smash it, kiddo. Make sure you ask Jack what his laptop password is though, I’d hate for you to get locked out during your test.” Quinn said quietly, before his phone rang and he stepped into his room to answer it.

“Here you go, sunshine. Fully charged, but the charger is in my room if you need it.” Jack was back in the living room, handing his laptop to you, already logged in and a web browser open for you.

You stood up from the couch and moved towards the dining table, setting the laptop down and pulling out a chair. It only took a minute to log into your university portal and navigate to the subject page you needed for the online test. You were about to click the start button, when Quinn’s comment flashed in your mind.

“Jack?” You squeaked, turning to face the couch where Jack had flopped down moments before. Still clad in black jeans, still fucking shirtless, absolutely ignorant of the effect he was having on your ability to breathe calming, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“What’s up?”

“What’s… what’s your password? In case I get locked out and you’re not here? Could you write it down for me please?”    You reached for the hotel notepad and complimentary pen that was on the table you were sitting at, waving them in Jack’s direction.

Jack rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as he stood up and took the notepad from you and began scribbling on it.

“I have to go downstairs and meet Bratter for some team social media stuff, but I’ll see you later, okay? Text me when you finish your test.” You’d never seen Jack move so quickly as he handed the notepad back to you, retrieved a shirt and jacket from his bedroom and disappeared out the hotel room door, all within a minute or two. 

You were confused, to say the least. You glanced down at the notepad Jack had thrust into your hands, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw what he scrawled on it.

Password - SugarpluM2001Jh!

–

Quinn had headed out not long after Jack did, leaving you to complete your test in silence. Despite the disorienting start to your morning, and all of your revision notes being on your desk at home, you managed to scrape through with a 75% result which would supplement your final grade significantly. 

The waves of relief washed over you, as you clicked out of web page you were on. You reached for your phone and typed a quick message to Jack as promised, and you were confused when the laptop chimed with a notification noise. 

Oh. Oh. Jack’s laptop was linked to his phone, and his messages were suddenly popping up on the laptop screen in front of you. 

You shouldn’t pry. You knew that. Your logical brain was telling you to close the laptop screen and get going. But your anxiety brain was telling you that you should take a peek. Just a little one. 

Before your logical brain and anxiety brain could battle it out properly, the laptop notification chimed again, and a girl’s name that was not your own flashed up on the screen. 

What happened last night? I thought you were coming to my room after your dinner?? Xx

You felt your jaw drop, as you started to realise what was happening in this conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to. You froze, as the little bubble popped up in the chat, showing you that Jack was typing a reply.

Sorry babe i got caught up with some boring family bullshit, you know how it is. Would’ve rather have been with you obvs but i just couldn’t get away. Then today is crazy with media stuff anyway. I’ll see u at the drew house event tonight though? Go back to yours after that? Xo

Sounds great. I’ll be wearing this for you, J. *image attached*

You slammed the laptop shut when the image loaded, showing someone wearing a red and black lingerie set. 

You felt bad for snooping, but you felt worse knowing that Jack considered last night as “boring family bullshit”. Is that all it was? Were you stupid for thinking it was more? That it could ever be more between the two of you?

Or was that all you could ever hope to be? Like family. Forever intertwined, always floating in each other’s orbit, but never more than friends. Platonic soulmates at best, childhood acquaintances at worst. 

You were spiralling, yet again, and your phone buzzing with a notification provided a brief reprieve. Until you saw that it was a text from Jack.

Well done on your test, champ!! Knew u could do it. See you at the draft tonight? There’s two passes in your email for you and your dad to come visit. Might even get to meet bublé, if that’s your vibe lmao

Suddenly, there was a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was he pretending like he wanted to spend time with you? When surely all he actually wanted to do was sneak off with the girl he was texting just moments ago?

You swiped into check your email app, and there were the passes as promised. You quickly scanned the email to see if they were assigned to any particular name, and all you could see was “guest of Jack Hughes” rather than you or your dad specifically. You quickly hit the “forward” button, and sent them on to your dad and your cousin Tom, who had met Jack and Quinn a handful of times over the years, and was a massive hockey fan like your dad. You knew Tom would love to go, and your dad would be happy enough to have Tom join him.

You sent through a quick message to Tom saying you weren’t feeling well and that he’d be doing you a favour by taking your pass, to which he immediately replied with lots of exclamation points and thanks. 

Next, you typed a message back to Jack.

Thanks again for the laptop and for the passes. Something’s come up so i can’t come but dad will be there with tom, hope that is ok? Didn’t want the passes to go to waste. Good luck for the draft, don’t let quinn bully you too much lol

You were hoping that Jack wouldn’t question you, or pick up on the shift in tone. Well, maybe you wanted him to sense the tone a little bit. Jack’s typing bubble popped up in the text conversation, then disappeared, then popped up again, then suddenly your phone was vibrating with a call and Jack’s name was flashing across the top of your screen. Your fingers hovered over the answer/decline buttons, before you abandoned both and dropped your phone back onto the table, letting the call go to voicemail. 

You stood up from the table and began to gather your belongings. The bitter taste was still in your mouth, but otherwise you felt nothing. Just numb. You barely realised what you were doing when your body moved towards the hotel suite door, into the elevator, through the lobby and out onto the street. You waited a few minutes for your Uber, before slipping away through the streets of downtown, and as far away from Jack as you felt you needed to be. 

By the time you got home, Jack had called you twice, and sent you about ten text messages of various question marks and confusion, and a fair amount of concern. You plugged your phone into the charger on your bedside table before heading into your bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Your shower felt like it took about 3 hours, when in reality it was probably more like 20 minutes at most. You washed your hair, and spent some time sitting down on the shower floor staring into space, pondering the events of the last 24 hours. When you finally emerged, putting on your favourite sweatpants and an old Canucks hoodie you found on your bedroom floor, you realise your phone was flashing with more notifications.

You settled down in bed before picking up your phone and scrolling through the home screen. Jack had resorted to sending you photos of sad baby pandas to elicit a response, your dad had texted you to say thank you for the passes and to feel better soon, but it was a message from Quinn that caught your eye. 

Q: What did he do? He’s freaking out. Are you okay? I can beat him up if you want me to. Or give him a hug. Just let me know which is more appropriate based on whatever the fuck he did 

You hesitated, contemplating whether to tell Quinn the truth or not. But then you remembered that Quinn had literally known you since you were four. He could tell if you were lying in a heartbeat, even over text message. 

You: Maybe just remind Jack that his text messages pop up on his laptop. See if that helps him to figure it out lmao sorry to miss tonight quinny, hope you draft all the canucks you want xo

Q: He now looks like he’s going to throw up?? Still unsure if hugging or punching is required tbh

New message - Jack Hughes -

You sighed and rolled your eyes, before clicking on Jack’s message notification. 

I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, sugar. I swear i am.

Sorry for categorising me as “boring family bullshit” or sorry that you got caught trying to get your dick wet? Or sorry for pretending to be my friend when you apparently just tolerate me to be polite?

We have press for two more hours then i can call you. You’re my best friend, sugar. I love you.

You felt tears start to prick in your eyes as you read Jack’s message. Sure, he loved you. But not in the same way that you loved him. And right now, you felt like that would never change. 

You clicked out of your message thread with Jack without replying, and opened up your conversation with Quinn instead. 

I’ll come to the all-star game on saturday, but nothing else, if that’s okay with you? I just need some space for a bit, sorry x 

Whatever you need, kiddo. I’ll give the game passes to your dad tonight. I still don’t know what jack did, but i think not seeing you will be punishment enough for whatever it was??

You didn’t reply to Quinn’s message. You didn’t reply to any more calls or messages for the next day or so, switching between trying to catch up on study and catching up on some Netflix episodes. You were typing notes on your laptop on Saturday morning, when a New Jersey Devils Twitter alert popped up on the screen and caught your attention.

#NEWS: Jack went home to Jersey last night after participating in Thursday’s draft and Friday’s media hits. He was extremely honoured to be a part of All-Star Weekend, especially sharing it with his brother. He’s really close to returning and wanted to get back so he could continue to focus on the rest of the Devils season. 

The bitter taste you thought you’d gotten rid of suddenly returned with a vengeance. 

Jack went home to Jersey last night. You had no idea when you’d see him again. And to be completely honest, you weren’t even sure that you wanted to. Your laptop dinged again, this time with an email notification. You were confused to say the least when the new email appeared to be from an airline, with a voucher attached.

Your phone buzzed with a new text message.

I couldn’t stand being there knowing you’re mad at me, but i also don’t want to force you to talk to me when you’re not ready to talk yet either. Use the voucher to come to jersey whenever you want. I’m sorry. 

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, torn between accepting Jack’s offer and wanting to be stubborn and not let go of being mad at him just yet. You hated what Jack had done, but you also hated yourself for cutting short your time with him that was already in short supply as it was.

I’ll let you know. Might be a flight to Jersey, might be a flight to Michigan. We’ll see. Good luck getting back out there!

You knew the Michigan comment was a cheap shot, but Jack had hurt you, so you wanted to be childish and hurt him back. The idea of not seeing him for almost four months until the summer break, where you’d all gather at the Hughes lake house as you did every year, made you feel slightly ill. 

Whatever you want, sugar. Mac n cheese in michigan on me. Love you. 

The mac and cheese comment made you smile, and the love you comment made you want to cry. 

Love you too, J. Maybe too much. I don’t know. I need time. x

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #my writing #nhl imagine #jack hughes fanfiction

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice. 

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can. 

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there. 

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically. 

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood. 

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie. 

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty. 

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-” 

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-” 

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles. 

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word. 

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.” 

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home. 

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

#ehehehe #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management #jazz fenton #jason todd #she still loves psychology but its a back pocket tool to her knowledge as an emergency medicine provider #jazz is ready to throw hands because becoming a princess during med school sucked ass #she did not have the time #but she loves and supports anything danny is doing sooo... #danny is currently attending gotham u for engineering but lives across town so they just call everyday #he sees her on her off days and always brings her tons of fast food #jason is immediately smitten with the woman put him in his place #the pit maddness was barking up a storm this entire convo but she got him home and he was like holy fuck im in love #jason todd said she saw right through me and that shit was hot #yes he totally stopped to grab (steal) flowers on his way to the clinic #dick picks him up this time. sees the flowers and is like oh cool its my turn to wingman for my lil bro #jazz is worn down by sweet gestures and the fact that hes legit so nice now when he comes into the clinic #he quotes poetry at her sometimes and she's like omg did you just make that up? she's never read poetry a day in her life #only medical textbooks and psychology papers #long post

[saturnsbabyboii]

🫧My experience being friends with the Moon signs 🫧

-Please remember that this is not a reflection of everyone with said placement. The behaviors of a single asshole aren't that of the many (sometimes). Also, I don't/didn't have friends with all Moons. Some would have one person or no specific person, and rather so, I'll be giving general observations.

🫧Taurus Moon🫧

Friend #1: Kind, loving, generous, thoughtful, quiet, slow, and internalizes everything. She is one of my closest friends ever. She is practically the father figure of the group, helping everyone out, protecting them, advocating, giving advice, and making sure that they're set and good. Picky with her friends, many of them are people she has known since childhood, and most are her cousins with very few that aren't related to her. Tech and cyber expert. A big animal and nature lover. She loves her space and peace, she is slow to return texts, hates calls, and has the social battery of a sloth. Good singing voice. Loves video games, and is OBSESSED with whatever she has an interest in. Overall, her emotions are well-regulated, however, as an Earth Moon she rationalizes herself and stays pretty chill, even when she needs to pipe up.

Friend #2: Obsessive, jealous, sensual, persistent, indulgent yet very frugal, and stubborn af. A big-time foodie, he does have quite the appetite. Good singing voice too. Always at the clearance section of 'Bath and Body Works'. Thrifty. Got to have three of the same body spray. Candle queen. Trust issues with a very paranoid outlook on things. A bit greedy. Always asking people to buy them things. Very sexual. Cares for his younger sisters and loves his family and friends.

Friend #3: Big-time nerd. Memes are his only talking reference. Great singing voice and can imitate voices very well. Shy extrovert. Loves animations and even studied to be an animator and designer. Hugger. Big animal lover (he legit has what seems like a zoo of pets at home).

Friend #4: Obsessed with history (especially medieval history). All about death and our relationship with mortality. A literal cat. Isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. Goes all in on a subject of interest. Has the same appearance and sense of style as always.

I find Taurus Moons to be very comforting and a joy to be around. They defiantly bring a sense of stability to the relationship, mainly because they're predictable. Not in the "boring" sense but rather that they're people of clear and simple emotions no matter how grand they're in expression, it's pretty clear what they feel, how they feel, and why; Basically, there's no catch or an underbelly to their emotions. Other qualities I have found was that they're pretty aloof, they hate to be intimate with people they barely know, and they actually like fast-paced relationships (only if they really like you), they love to dress simply but chic, and they do have a well known "thing". They always got that "thing" you associate with them and they have it for comfort, like a kid with a blanket or a toy. They also love animals, pastels, the color brown, and karaoke. Hates confrontation and always second guesses their gut feeling. They're also very stubborn and in general, find it much harder to break out of habitual cycles of disconnecting and detachment when shit gets real.

🫧Gemini Moon🫧

Friend #1: Very smart. Great writer and lyricist. Talented musician and singer. Loves people. A bit timid about being in the spotlight. Loves to connect with others over interests, especially art and social issues. Great dresser. Romantic. Bends too fast. Dislikes confrontation but would stand up for a loved one. Bad judge of character (always attracts cheaters and assholes).

Friend #2: Certified L.A.B (lying ass bitch). Says shit for the sake of saying shit. Fake trauma bonding. Leeches off of people. Toxic. Abusive. Always with abusers. Manipulative and hateful. Been around the block. Would do anything for validation. Makes up stories about others to play the role of the victim. (Very likely she has a cluster B personality disorder and no Gemini Moon would claim her.)

I think I have experienced two extremes of this moon, with one being highly and continuously evolving and the other being consistently trash. I am fond of the energy that Gemini has on the moon. There's this innocence that they possess at the core, and it could be the purest and most genuine thing or the biggest fabrication in history. Nonetheless, I do love to be around them and the energy they bring to a relationship. It is always lively, fresh, and new, they'll always come up with something to do with you, and always find a way to spend time and be close to you. They definitely give mixed signals since they tend to be a bit playful, especially in their platonic relationships, and they are very touchy. They're bold and outspoken generally about how they feel. They're less guarded and more likely to share and talk about their problems and their opinions. In contrast, they would rather die than open up about their deep true emotions.

🫧Cancer Moon🫧

Talking about their ex was their favorite pastime. Never misses an important function. Celebrations and social events were considered important. The person that would want to go somewhere but then gets upset because things did not go how they imagined they would. Ruminates on past events and feelings. Vents a lot but also gives you the space to do so. Strong stan on temporary emotions and circumstances. Feels how she feels and doesn't care how others perceive her for it, or what they think about it. Low key ferocious (I live for it though). The only person I know that isn't afraid to publicly voice their boundaries when crossed.

I don't think I met another Cancer Moon besides this person, and we became friends only because we were together in similar classes at uni. Overall, I would say from what I have observed, her relationships with her friends were always great and seemed pretty solid. Romantically though, sis was very challenged, and I don't think it was totally her date's fault. She is an acquired taste and she knows what she wants. Seems very hung up on the idea of meeting expectations and fighting an imaginary clock to get THE perfect life. Good luck with that.

🫧Leo Moon🫧

Creative. Self-motivated. A visionary. The definition of an untamable person. Careful of who they keep company. Lives for an adventure. All about self-expressing, being authentic, and breaking the system. Great philosophical talker. Has true parental instincts. Very comfortable with themselves. Sexual. Great body-mind attunement. Good at mirroring others.

I have heard/read a lot of shit spewing about this placement, but I have to say that I do love to meet them. They're a breath of fresh air. Although I get how they can give an impression of a know it all "I am better than you" life dula, I never detect malice in their approach and usually they're more than respectful if you talk to them about it. They carry the weight of life with such ease, and I envy their perseverance. They definitely love to live life to the fullest. They have their select few friends that they have for a lifetime and like to keep it that way.

🫧Virgo Moon🫧

Never been friends with a Virgo Moon, although not for lack of trying but they themselves are quite apprehensive of bonds with people. They're close to their family and the friends they have they got to know them through school, work, or because they had no other option than to be around you. A molded chaos, and an organized mess. Life runs much faster for them and there's never enough time to finish anything. Despite their tendency to give everything a sense of debilitating urgency, they aren't hypochondriacs. Being strong and well functioning is important to them, as such they take good care of their bodies and surroundings. Oddly spiritual with a devolution to routine rituals. Their emotions are well hidden, they have the hardest exterior to crack. However, they're avid about mental health and wellness. I have also noticed that they tend to lash out, uncharacteristic of them, when they're overwhelmed or feel cornered.

🫧Libra Moon🫧

Friend #1: Very sweet. Bad Bitch™. Always looks good. Best dancer I know. Craves love and relationships. Attracts drama. They are very close to their family. Heavily underestimated. "Legally Blond" but Elle is a Latina that studies medicine. Loves astrology. Takes care of their friendships. Always on the go. Meeting new people all the time.

Friend #2: Pushover. Non-confrontational yet very aggressive. Easily frustrated. Closed minded to different interests. A bit extreme and abrasive. HATES astrology. LOVES the show 'Friends'. Self-critical. Insecure.

A placement that perfectly embodies Libra. Heavenly body and presence. Indecisive as hell. Always stuck in bad relationships. Head is always in the clouds. Romanticizing everything. Walking like they're being filmed. I would say there is an emphasis on companionship and finding "the one" throughout their lives, plus drama is second nature. They might be used to drama so much so that they lose sense of their boundaries and self, in turn making them vulnerable to manipulation and abuse. Their "all about me" era is like no other and is a true turning point in their lives. They seem to thrive when are surrounded by masculinity and masculine people, or overall very competitive and cut-throat environment. They use being underestimated to their advantage.

🫧Scorpio Moon🫧

"Me, myself and I". Paranoid as hell. Big spender. Artistic. Good at portrait sketching. Dresses well. Loves drama. Is the drama. Tone deaf. Low-key ungrateful. An immense sense of self-importance. Passive aggressive. PETTY. Mature exterior with very childish interests. Hypercritical of everything, including themselves.

"Jesus take the wheel" was made as a phrase for dealing with a Scorpio Moon. I get the fragility and being highly emotional and sensitive, that I read about. However, I mostly find them to be disagreeable and pensive. You never know what is the truth, so I assume everything is a lie, and if it's the truth then there must be a catch. They would wake up and the day already sucks. They love to surround themselves with expensive things. It's uncomfortable to be around a placement that seems to believe their own projections and preconceived notions of others rather than getting to know people, or maybe just mind their own business. I would say though that having a Scorpio Moon is probably unpleasant, but I have seen worse happen to other placements with "favorable" moons. And of course, I am talking about the ones that I have met and not every single Scorpio Moon out there.

🫧Sagittarius Moon🫧

Friend #1: Life of the party (actually the life of life). Loves to laugh. Comfortable with everyone. Always hype. Smokes like a chimney. Either brave or stupid. Hype. Frequent dealings with older guys. No chills. Loves to play with friends. Car hangouts over going into places. Funny on the outside, sad on the inside.

Friend #2: Very smart. Tarot mogul. Always a good time. Great convorsaitonlist. A softie. Very sensitive. Expressive.

Friend #3: Would cut a bitch. A true ride or die. A person you want to be on her good side. An unofficial dominatrix. Sweet but feisty. Loves her cat. Always lit. Would do anything for her friends. A good bullshit detector.

A favorite of mine, it is very hard not to like a Sag moon. They're so caring of others and are always making sure that you're good and having a good time. They're the type of person to trust if you're in a bar or a club. I would say that there is a very sad side to them under all that happiness. They're always anxious, which is probably why they don't sleep or eat very well. They also get a lot of migraines. If they open up then they really really really trust you (which is important to them since they can vibe and hang out with anyone but barely trust). They usually have a much calmer Earth sun best friend. I would say that they act much older than their when young but then seem to stay stuck on childish cycles of defensiveness and escapism as they get older.

🫧Capricorn Moon🫧

Friend #1: Artistic and crafty. Resilient. Capable of being very sweet and stern. Good with money, planning, and organizing. Maticolus. Conscious and realistic about their growth and development. Loves animals. Loves to be active in nature. A strong believer in karma.

Friend #2: A true powerhouse. Wonderwoman. My mentor and only real-life role model. An established businesswoman. Rags to riches. Despite having a physical disability she can drive, open pickle jars, do lifts and push up, plus she is a fashion designer that can sew. All of that with one arm. A fighter through and through.

Never had the privilege of being friends with many Capricorn Moons but I have known quite a few and some are very close friends of my family. A rough start in life. They really do take time to peak, however, the glow-up is real. Least spiritual Moon sign. Not egotistical or cold as I read so often. Quite warm and welcoming actually. They might be borderline Darwinists when it comes to the importance of human life and mortality. Believers of hard work and initiative. Lovers and fighters. Silent passion. When young, their relationship with their mother can be described as codependent, and their relationship with their father is strained with a sense of animosity. However, with time the roles seem to slowly reverse. Regardless, their family defenatliy takes precedence throughout their lives. They value respect more than anything else.

🫧Aquarius Moon🫧

Friend #1: Devoted to volunteer work and other people. The "fixer" type. Wants to be needed. Self-help books are all they read. Their interests and style are influenced by the people they're hanging out with. Accidentally (or maybe not) trauma bond with others. Desires to be a leader. Emotions focused. Worries about their reputation a lot. No luck with love. And also in friendship. Many friends, very few that are close, and only one has been consistent so far. Loves to have hangouts with large groups.

Friend #2: Music is their soul. Hippie. Loves acting. "center of attention". Dress based on aesthetics. TikTok addict. Interested in astrology and spirituality. Cold. Performative.

Friend #3: Know-it-all. Bad at expressing themself. No filter. Self-centered. Radical thinking. "Everyone is stupid". Loves to stand out. Learned how to finish a Rubix cube just to show it off. Having low grades is a "red flag" to him. Has a strong desire to be loved, yet none to give it back.

Friend #4: All about the drama and lights. Emotionally explosive at times. Hiding behind a facade. Loves to meet different people. Business savvy. Guarded but would give you their heart once they let it down. Displays emotions as anger when in reality they're scared. Superficial connections to others are more prevalent.

Generally, these people are dynamic and quite sociable. They're people focused in the best and worst ways possible. There is a constant desire to change surroundings (and at times help others change and grow) but they themselves tend to be relatively rigid at the core. Impressionistic (even though they would probably deny it). Self-image is usually not the reality (this could manifest in being overconfident or self-critical). They love to work with their hands a lot and do much better when working with others in comparison to working alone. They are altruistic but aren't attentive to others' desires; as a result, they believe they know better about everything and "what is best" depending on the situation. Imitates emotions rather than naturally expressing them.

🫧Pisces Moon🫧

Another very close friend of mine. Hard to read. Intelligent. People smart. Their friends are family. Uncomfortable with expressing their emotions, yet a good listener. Extroverted introvert. Loves to go out and meet people. Likes to club, going to parties, playing video games, and trying out new things. Loyal. Tough shell, soft heart. Doesn't give a flying fuck about what strangers think of them. Trophy hunter. A very realistic and pragmatic view of the world. Melancholic. They are perceived as troubled when they're just quiet. Low-key altruistic.

This Moon sign is not as bubbly as I have heard about it. They're hard to pinpoint as they usually come off as either Aquarius or Scorpio Moons. They tend to go through much more emotional turmoil, especially as children. They have a floaty feel to them. They feel a lot but nothing at once. They are usually witnesses to harm done to others and suffer losses related to other people rather be it themselves directly, which contributes to a sense of isolation from their peers. They do definitely grow into brave people that face life despite all the baggage they seem to drag around. By far the moon sign that takes the longest to open up honestly and completely, although they do experience spats of anxiety from time to time. Also FOOOOODDDD. They love food and everything that brings them comfort. Vices.

🫧Aries Moon🫧

Very emotional yet not expressive. Dedicated and strong-willed (she is a pediatrician). Hung up on "the one that got away". A true badass. So pretty yet so sad. Her dogs are her babies. Always choosing violence. Femme fatal that drives a Jeep Wrangler.

Emotions that cut deeper than a sword. They seem to compensate for emotional and inner needs with material things and career achievements. Very intimidating when you meet them at first, as they appear put together and quite the expert in their field. They spiral downwards if life doesn't go their way. Personally, I think this moon sign is the most emotionally rigid. Not for their lack of desire to change but rather that they get stuck on what their heart desire and can't seem to see or want anything other than that thing or person that they can't get. They also seem hellbent on trying to control what we can't control, such as the past, other people, and unforeseen misfortune. Highly upkeep on their exterior. Needs some form of vice to process emotions, usually it's smoking and drinking. They tend to be their parents favorite.

#astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astrology notes #astrology observations #aquarius #aries #cancer #capricorn #gemini #taurus #virgo #libra #pisces #scorpio #leo #sagittarius #moon signs #aries moon #taurus moon #gemini moon #cancer moon #leo moon #virgo moon #libra moon #scorpio moon #capricorn moon #aquarius moon #pisces moon

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE PRE-SEASON TESTING

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. it's pre-season testing time!

content warnings. smau & written parts, written in 3rd person & lowercase, not edited & proofread

word count. 1.1k

notes. we're dipping into the season, slowly but surely... this took me some time to finish, i literally didn't know what to write for testing ://

"we are here in bahrain, pre-season testing for all teams in 2025, welcome everyone!" croft greets the whole world, as live footage is shown across the devices. the camera spans over the whole track, to each individual paddock until stopping at the final one, in blinding white.

"the season is starting with a bang, for the first time in formula one, we will see a stark owned team on the track! in white and chrome they are, an iconic design and everyone is eager to see what the stark manufactured cars can do!"

"how right you are, david! welcome, i'm will buxton and i have someone of interest with me here. right here, in front of the stark racing garage- y/n stark, number 95, one of the drivers for stark racing. so, y/n, tell me, how are you feeling? are you ready for the first time in the car?"

"hello will, thank you for having me. well, it's not quite the first time in the car, we had a testing back in miami at the end of january, but it's something different to be officially here now. but i'm feeling confident- we have our data, the predicted numbers and we think we'll be able to achieve them."

"so, no major upgrades or changes planned?" y/n shakes her head with a grin.

"do you really think i'm going to answer that question? ask me again, when we're done." will laughs at that, nodding his head in understanding.

"understandable, but i will hold you onto that! gonna knock on the garage doors three days later." y/n laughs again, head thrown back. "but, y/n, how does it feel to be on the paddock? have you met the rest of the drivers yet? made any new friendships?"

"well..."

"can you turn that off?", carlos gruffly asks his teammate, who just waves his hand at him as answer. with a groan, he stares at the tv, showing the first driver interview of the day, y/n stark. her voice washes over him, empty answers of being excited to properly meet everyone and maybe even bond with a few drivers.

"i don't know why you're so obsessed, perceval." charles immediatly splutters, waving his hands to deny the accusation.

"i'm not! but it's so interesting! tony stark is literally here, aren't you at least a bit excited? arthur said that y/n is like him!"

"what, arrogant? self-centered?"

"carlos! stop being so negative! i meant like- a genius! someone who raced with her back in f3 is friends with arthur, i forgot his name, but apparently y/n constantly does calculations while she drives. that's why she's so good overtaking." carlos just sighs and leaves charles to whatever he's doing right now. he has no interest in this circus.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

kevin watches the interviews from the sideline, completely satisfied with how everyone is hounding y/n and leaving him in peace. of course he had his fair amount of questions and interviews, but much less than his teammate.

it has been a whirlwind, ever since he joined the team. strange, for a while, everything seeming so futuristic, but now his glasses feel like a another part of his race suit he's putting on every day.

the team has been welcoming, open to his input, but it's very clear to him that y/n is their star driver and he's the support. and he's alright with it. of course, winning a championship would mean everything, but he knows he's not going to continue this forever. especially not when he has a kid, he's missing so much... something he dislikes, because family means everything to him.

this is why his contract is only for two years. if he wishes to continue and his results at the end of the season are steady, tony promised him a seat as long he wishes for. he is incredibly thankful for this offer, fully knowing that this kind of support doesn't exist in formula one.

"ready to go?", he asks, after y/n's press officer ushers her out of the mob called journalists.

"so ready to go", she grins. but they're not alone, the netflix camera's immediately surround them and capture their walk to the garage. people part from them, staring openly at the drivers. one of the most iconic footage later shown in the drive to survive documentary.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

"so, here he goes, kevin magnussen for stark racing, leaving his side of the garage. the car is looking incredible, i really like the color!", comments crofty and the other men immediately begin to chatter as well. throwing in rumors and hearsay about the team, they expertly fill the silence of kevin doing his first lap on the track.

"last to leave the garage and on the track, all eyes are on stark racing- oh and there he goes, picking up the speed!"

"his tyres seem to have warmed up- woah! look at the smoothness! kevin seems to be home in his car, his struggles from the last season are nowhere to be seen", adds jenson, while the cameras continue to follow the white car with the number 20.

"and there he goes! on medium tyres, setting the third fastest lap already, this looks definitely promising." will shares his own thoughts, reminding the viewers that there is definitely a possibility of stark racing going at least one or two seconds faster.

"by the looks of it, the stark racing team seems to be satisfied- honestly can't tell much, the glasses are hiding too much", jokes another man and all of them laugh. "bloody starks, am i right?"

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

the testing days are filled with endless laps and data, followed by long hours of debrief. they've already proven that they're fast, slotting themselves on the upper half of the grid, sticking close to the more experienced teams.

speculations are thrown around, is stark racing sandbagging? of course they must be, while others think that this is the best they can do. neither of the drivers or the team principal lose a word on it, instead they repeat always the same statements.

"we delivered what we predicted."

"we tested our theories, confirmed or debunked them, so the past three days have been very productive."

"we're exactly there where we want to be and we know our next steps."

empty words and yet the journalists pounce on them as if they're the next headlines. the whole world watches with eagerness as stark racing finishes up their debut in formula one and they impatiently await the first race of the season.

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 female driver #female driver #fem!driver #f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ lightning on track #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika

Based on this ask

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Some cussing. Talks of prostitution. Manipulation. Implied forced body modification/mutilation. Mentions of murder/poison.

Now That We Don't Talk

The chill in the air made you shiver as you walked down the sidewalk towards Tigris’ boutique. Like every Wednesday you were meeting her for brunch. You only wished that you opted to take Coriolanus up on his offer to have the chauffeur take you since the winter winds were a bit harsh today. Of course, you declined his offer, telling him that you were meeting his cousin at her boutique this midmorning instead of the cafe where you usually went for your brunches with the kind hearted stylist.

Coryo wasn't happy with your answer but he accepted it nevertheless. He also told you to wear your new fur coat, the one he got you less than a month ago, since Lucretius ‘Lucky’ Flickerman's weather report predicted a cold, wintery day with the possibility of light snowfall. 

After agreeing to wear the luxury fur coat (your fiance said it was a rare fur, Russian sable, and that you were the only in the Capitol to have it), Coriolanus rose from the dining room table only to give you a kiss on your temple and prepare to leave for an early morning meeting with some political strategist for his campaign.

Yes, your man was running for president of Panem. 

Holding your coat closer together with your glove covered hand, you walked a tad bit faster. You were grateful that the walk to Tigris’ boutique wasn't too far from the penthouse you shared with Coriolanus. Meaning you didn't have to brave the cold too long. You hated the cold, but with how you were raised it's only a given that you'd hate it.

Upon seeing the scrolling print sign for Tigris' boutique swinging in the wind, you felt a sense of relief. In a matter of moments you'd be warm.

“Tigris, I'm here!” You called out to the blonde as soon as you set foot into the shop.

A girl with bubble gum pink hair was at the front counter of the shop. She smiled at you as her boss, Tigris, emerged from the back. You exchanged warm greetings and hugs before she ushered you down a hall and up the stairs that led to her condo.

“I'm sorry that we couldn't go to the cafe, but between requests and designing a new wardrobe for the victory tour, I've been swamped.” Tigris sweetly apologized for your change in plans as you removed your fur coat. 

“It's fine, Tigris. I don't mind having brunch here.” You replied with a smile while hanging the coat up on the corner rack by the door.

The stylist's eyes took in the luxury fur hanging by her door and asked, “That's not the coat from my new line that I made for you. Did Coriolanus get it for you?”

“Yes.” You nodded, going over to the plush sofa. “He gave it to me a few weeks ago and insisted that I wear it today.” You innocently said, not understanding the true meaning behind Coriolanus’ actions.

Bless your heart, but you were innocent and you'd never think that your loving and caring boyfriend would do anything to hurt anyone, especially his cousin. But…that wasn't the case and his true reason for making telling you to wear your new Russian sable coat was to slight his cousin. To hurt Tigris since he knew she gave you the light pink peacoat with faux fur collar from her new line as a holiday gift.

Tigris weakly smiled, feeling sick to her stomach that you were so sweet and being led to the slaughter by her cold and calculating cousin, as she went to the kitchen to grab the charcuterie board she had prepared earlier for your brunch along with making the two of you some mimosas.

When she returned, she set the items on the coffee table only for you to frown and tell her, “You didn't put any alcohol in the orange juice, did you? Coryo doesn't like it when I drink outside of galas or when he's not with me.”

Tigris gave you a long look of disbelief, only to sigh, “He doesn't have to know you had a mimosa in my condo. What's brunch without mimosas?”

Shaking your head, you refused the drink. “He told me not to drink it so I won't. Please, just get me a plain orange juice.”

Tigris sighed heavily and was about to give into your request, but changed her mind whenever a large shiny diamond ring on your left ring finger caught her attention. 

No.

No, you couldn't be.

Grabbing yout hand, she looked between you and the very large ring. “When did you start wearing this?”

“Coriolanus proposed last night.” You beamed, pulling your hand out of your friend's hold only to flick your hand up and admire the ring on your finger. “Coryo says it's one of a kind. That he designed it special for me.” Pointing to the ring, you explained the ring's design. “The large diamond in the middle's a rare pink diamond and all the white diamonds on the side are marquises. It's supposed to be a pink rose because those are my favorite flowers.”

Tigris felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach at hearing you happily tell her about the shackle her ruthless cousin had slipped on your finger hours ago.

She always thought that Coriolanus would grow bored of using you as his plaything and return you to your family. The star designer assumed that her cousin would push you away once he announced his intent to run as the youngest president of Panem. Tigris assumed that Coriolanus would spurn you because of your district background and latch onto a woman of impeccable Capitol breeding in his unquenchable thirst for power.

But she was wrong.

Coriolanus proposed and you said yes. 

Now Tigris knew that she had to warn you about him if you had any chance of escaping him. Any chance at happiness. You weren't just her cousin's girlfriend fiance, but a dear friend of hers and she wanted you to be safe.

You'd never be safe with Coriolanus.

So, with a sad look in her soft blue eyes, the blonde woman told you, “Sweetheart, there's things about Coriolanus you don't know, but need to know.”

“Like what, Tigris?” You innocently asked, assuming that she was going to tell you a childhood story or something.

But what she told you wasn't a childhood story. No, what she told you made your eyes pop out of your head. Tigris, to your utter shock and horror, revealed all of Coriolanus' sins to you. 

Sins that he never wanted you to know because he never wanted you to see him as anything but your loving and protective Coryo. 

When Coriolanus came home you were in the kitchen finishing dinner. The smell had his mouth watering as he hung up his heavy maroon coat. He smiled to himself just thinking about how you'd never have to lift another finger in the kitchen ever again once he became president.

You'd have an entire kitchen full of the best private chefs for that. You'd be able to fill your evenings reading your ancient books and watching those trashy Capitol tv shows you enjoyed so much. Oh, and pleasing him at every whim.

“Dinner smells good, darling.” Coriolanus told you, stepping into the kitchen.

You nearly jumped, feeling a bit snuck up on, as you heard his baritone fill the air. You prayed that he didn't notice your jumpiness, but he did. 

“What's wrong?” He asked, coming up behind you to wrap an arm around your waist in a comforting way.

But what should've felt like a comforting gesture didn't. In fact, his touch made you feel sick. His hands, covered in so much blood from all the murders he committed to rise up the political ranks, felt foreign as they touched you. His touch was that of the angel of death; not a lover, or at least that's how it felt after hearing his cousin’s damning words of warning earlier.

Shaking your head, you weakly assured him, “I'm fine, just tired’s all.”

“I told you, my darling rose, that you should've had the driver take you to Tigris’ for brunch. That it was too cold out for you to walk.” Coriolanus remarked before letting you go. “If you're getting ready to plate our food, I'll pour us some drinks.”

The thought of him pouring you a drink had you choking on air. Tigris' earlier words washed over you.

“He poisons people he deems as disposable or a threat to him, sweetheart. He offers them a drink and watches them die to tie up his loose ends.”

Before you knew what was happening, you were pushing past your fiance (nearly knocking him on his ass) and running out of the kitchen to the bathroom.

Concerned, Coriolanus followed you only to find you hunched over the toilet coughing and spitting up bile. Going over to the vanity, he turned on the sink and grabbed a small washcloth from the drawer they were stored in. He ran the white cloth under the cool water for a few moments before turning off the faucet and wringing out the washcloth. 

Bending down next to you, he tucked your hair behind your ear and ran the cool cloth over your face. “Are you okay, darling? You're not coming down with something, are you?”

He couldn't help but hope that he knocked you up. He wanted nothing more than to tie you to him forever with a baby. Having a child with him would be more of a life binding contract then marriage. But he knew that morning sickness usually happened, well, in the morning.

His icy blue eyes looked at you with concern. Believe it or not, the cold man with a too small black heart truly did care about you and your well-being. Truth be told, you and the cat you twisted his arm into adopting were the only things on God's green earth that he gave a fuck about. 

Hell, he didn't even give a shit about his own cousin these days, given how cold she was to him once he returned from his summer stint in District 12 as a peacekeeper all those years ago. Only reason he hasn't cut her off yet is because of you and how much you adore the fashionista bitch.

“I'm fine, just a bit tired.” You lied. Truth was you weren't fine. The fact that your fiance was a murderer that might end up poisoning you to get rid of you because of your inferior birth made your stomach churn. 

Yes, Tigris had told you that Coriolanus looked down on district people. That he was disgusted by them and viewed them to be lower than gutter rats. She told you that she thought he would've grown tired of you, but now feared what he'd do to you since he wanted to marry you.

She told you that she felt her cousin had no real intentions on marrying you. That she was afraid he'd poison you (kill you) to gain sympathy and higher polling numbers for his campaign.

Now the blonde woman's words ran wild thru your head and you couldn't even look at the platinum blonde man who owned your heart the same way again. 

“Perhaps you should go rest in our room.” Coriolanus suggested, thinking maybe some rest would make you feel better.

Coriolanus was wrong. Rest didn't make you feel better. Nothing made you feel better. In fact, in the days after your brunch with Tigris you started to pull away from him.

At first it was subtle, but then it became painfully obvious to him that you were pulling away. Especially when you stopped calling him Coryo. That's when he knew he no longer owned your heart.

Something was wrong and it drove him insane not knowing what it was. He couldn't figure out what had changed so drastically. It's as if you looked at him with undying love one day and then suddenly woke up to look at him with a fearful love the next.

A fearful love…

Damnit!

Did something scare you? Did somebody tell you something to make you shrink into yourself and become a shell? If they did, well, they'd pay for it. 

Pay with their life.

He decided that he was confronting you tonight about being so distant. He was getting to the bottom of your problems because over a week of you not being the woman he fell for was enough. Coriolanus couldn't handle you pulling away from him anymore.

Goddamnit, he's gone too long without fucking you. 

Enough was enough.

“Darling, we need to talk.” Coriolanus told you as soon as he got home from work. 

You stared at him from your spot on the sofa as he hung up his coat. “About what?” You asked, your eyes flickering back to the book you had in your hand. It was an old one from the ancient pre-Panem days. Your fiance got it for you at some high-end auction house.

“Us.” The word was clipped as he let it out of his mouth. 

You refused to look at Coriolanus as he crossed the room. Instead, you kept your eyes glued to the pages of Pride & Prejudice. 

“Did I do something to make you pull away from me?” You heard him ask while stopping in front of you. 

“No.” You half lied. He didn't do anything to you (yet), but it was the sins he committed in the past that had your head spinning. Deciding you didn't want to get into it with him, you simply said, “I'm not pulling away from you, Coriolanus. I've just been tired’s all.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not-” You began only for him to loom over you and shout, “Yes you are!” 

The pressure had finally gotten to him. He finally snapped. 

Yanking the book out of your hands and tossing it somewhere across the room, he ranted, “You won't call me Coryo anymore, my darling. You've been pulling away from me for over a week now and I need to know why. I miss the way you used the look at me, darling. Hell, I miss the way we used to be.” 

Your eyes fell to the floor as you sighed, “I told you, I've just been tired.”

That was the wrong answer. 

You should've told him the truth…

Coriolanus grabbed you by your upper arms with a tight, bruising force and pulled you to your feet, all the while yelling, “Stop fucking lying to me, darling! I can't handle your distance and lies anymore!” His chest wildly heaved up and down in anger as he added in, “I want to know what I did to make you stop loving me, my darling rose.”

You never stopped loving him and told him as much, which only prompted him to ask why you've been pulling away from him.

So now the truth you've been keeping from him flowed out of your mouth like a raging river.

“Tigris saw my ring and told me that you didn't mean to go thru with marrying me. That you'd just poison and kill me to boost votes for your campaign and gain sympathy as being the heartbroken lover.” 

“What?” Coriolanus blinked his baby blues. He removed his hands from your arms, only to take your hands in his and lead you to sit down on the sofa. A soft look washed over his face as he assured you, “I'd never do that to you, darling." 

Shaking your head, you cried, “She says that you've killed before for power and to climb the political ladder, Coriolanus.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you wailed, “And she told me that you're disgusted by district people, Coriolanus. That you view us as lower than gutter rats.” 

It was true that he thought district people were scum, but it wasn't true that he viewed you that way. You weren't scum to him. You were better than where you were born. Hell, you lived in the Capitol for so long now that he doesn't even consider you District anymore.

“Tigris says that I don't matter to you; that you don't love me and will marry a girl of proper Capitol breeding once you dump poison in my drink.”

How dare his cousin tell you that he didn't love you?! He did love you. Hell, he was more obsessed with you then he ever was with the lying, treacherous, traitor, snake charmer of a whore singer he nearly destroyed his life over.

No, he loved you with everything he had inside of him. Despite being a dark creature that had no problems killing to get, keep, and maintain power, he truly did love you. You were the best thing that ever happened to him and he knew that he couldn't let his cousin turn you against him. 

Coriolanus wanted, no needed, to be your Coryo again and he'd say anything to make it happen.

“I wish you would've told me what Tigris told you as soon as it happened, my darling rose.” Coriolanus sighed while wrapping his arms around you. Pulling you against his chest, his silver tongue weaved its magic with the perfect words to turn you against Tigris. “She's jealous that nobody wants her because, despite her impeccable reputation as a stylist, a lot of men remember that years ago she used to sell her body on the black market. Tigris is also upset that she became a stylist because I told Dr. Gaul that the tributes needed uniforms and interview outfits.” Threading his fingers thru your soft hair, he added in the final words he needed to make Tigris look like the villain in this story. “She's upset that it was me who made her who she is. Made her a star designer. And she's jealous that I have somebody when she doesn't because of some choices she made before I could make her stylist dreams come true.”

“I never knew Tigris sold herself.” You gasped, clearly a bit horrified at the thought of your friend doing sexual favors with men for money. 

A large smug smirk spreads over Coriolanus' face as he continues to hold you close to his chest. Oh, he knew that he had you right where he wanted you. He had to lay it on thick so he'd be able to reel you in; have you under his thumb again. But he planned on having you look at him like you used to. He'd say and do anything to accomplish that too.

His voice quivered as he put on an act worthy of an academy award. “My darling rose, we don't talk anymore and it's killing me. The possibility of losing you because of some lies my jealous whore of a cousin told you because she's alone and miserable is heartbreaking.” He sucked in a breath, making you think that he was trying to prevent himself from breaking down, only to confess in a broken timbre, “I miss making love to you, darling.”

The phrase making love made his skin crawl as if spiders were underneath the epidermis, but he knew that to manipulate you back into his arms then he had to say it. After all, making love sounds more poetic than fucking your goddamn brains out does.

You lifted your head off his chest, only to look up into his icy blue eyes. Eyes that looked pitiful, like a kicked puppy’s, as he poured his heart out to you.

“I love you more than I ever thought possible, my darling rose. You consume me and losing you would destroy me. Turn me into a monster.” Coriolanus truthfully admitted. He wasn't lying about that, he was obsessed with you and knew deep down that if he ever lost you then he'd become a monster deadlier than anything that ever came out of Dr. Gaul's lab. 

And that was scary considering at the moment he had no morals, just the compass of his late father to guide him.

His large, calloused hand cupped your cheek as he swore, “I will never hurt you, Y/N. And I will never ever kill you or try to.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, only to rest his forehead on yours and confess. “I love you, my darling rose.”

That phrase was one he never thought he'd utter, but he did it to reel you in. To make sure that you never left his side. He needed you just like he needed air to breathe, so if he had to make himself a bit weak by saying the love word to you then so be it.

Hearing him say ‘I love you, my darling rose’ made your fears and doubts about him fly right out the window. He'd never said that to you before, not until now, and you knew he meant it. That he said it because he loved you and didn't want you to leave him.

But you could never leave him. You loved him too much.

“I love you too, Coryo.” You softly smiled, looking at your hand still holding his.

Hearing you call him Coryo again was the signal Coriolanus needed to let him know that he'd won. You were once again his and under his control.

“I'm sorry I was being distant. I was just scared.” You apologized, feeling foolish for pushing your fiance away over hearsay.

Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, your fiance told you, “I know you were, darling. I only wished that you came to me so I could put your fears to rest.”

You believed that he loved you and wouldn't do you any harm, but you were still curious about one thing. “Coryo, have you poisoned people to climb up the political ladder; for power?”

“Of course not, Y/N.” He firmly denied, only to add in the rhetorical question of, “And why would I want to kill my political allies? Makes no sense, darling.”

Yes, why would he want to kill his political allies? You couldn't help, but think that he'd need his political connections alive since they'd be able to help him in elections better breathing than pushing up daisies. 

What you didn't know was that Coriolanus craved power and would kill anyone to get it and keep it. Didn't matter who they were. But…you didn't need to know that.

All you needed to know was that he'd NEVER kill you.

“Yea, it doesn't make any sense.” You innocently agreed with your fiance.

Looking between you and the clock on the wall, he suggested, “We still have half an hour before the Justice Building closes for the night. Let's go have the Magistrate marry us.”

“You want to get married tonight?” You asked, wide-eyed, with a mix of excitement and disbelief in your voice.

No.

No, he didn't want to get married tonight. In fact, Coriolanus wanted to marry you in a lavish ceremony dripping in diamonds, gold, roses, and silk bunting in the presidential palace right after winning the election. But…he knew that Tigris made you doubt his intentions of making you Mrs. First Lady Snow so the only way to scrub that from your mind was to marry you right away.

“Yes.” He nodded. Pulling you to your feet, he simply instructed, “Go put on that white dress you wore for the winter gala, Mrs. Snow.”

The following morning Tigris’ heart sank into the pit of her stomach as she read the main headline in the political section of the newspaper.

Presidential Frontrunner Now A Family Man- Senator Coriolanus Snow & Long Time Girlfriend Wed Last Night In Private Ceremony

Tigris mourned for the loss of your freedom, of your life. She has no idea why you didn't heed her warnings, but she wished you did.

Before she could start to read the article, a knock sounded at her door. When she answered it, she found a pair of peacekeepers at her door. They told her that they had strict orders from Senator Snow to escort her to a very important appointment he had made for her. 

It was an appointment that would change the rest of her life and if she knew what it was for, maybe she would've tried to run from the peacekeepers her cousin had doing his dark bidding.

You hadn't seen Tigris since you married Coriolanus. He said that it was for the best. Of course, you believed him. He married you when she said he wouldn't. Coriolanus had proved her a liar.

It's been roughly 5 months since you've been Mrs. Snow and you couldn't be happier, especially since you were expecting your first child with Coryo.

A baby boy.

A baby boy the two of you decided to name Cassian Xandros. It was to keep up the Snow tradition of the first born son having the initials C.X.S.

You thought it was so sweet how your husband wanted to uphold his family's traditions.

Too bad he didn't let you uphold any of the traditions you grew up with. Mhm…

“Are we still going to be on this campaign tour during the games?” You asked your husband, who was sitting in an armchair, sipping on coffee and reading the paper, in the luxury train carriage you shared.

“We’ll go back to the Capitol for the games; then we'll continue the campaign tour.” He explained while turning the page of his newspaper.

You were reading your favorite book, Pride & Prejudice, whenever Coriolanus stood up and walked over to where you were resting on the sofa. Folding the paper, so only one page was visible, he handed it to you and solemnly said, “Darling, you need to see this.”

“What is it? A drop in your poll numbers?” You innocently asked, setting your book aside and reaching for the paper.

“No, it's something very unsettling.” He said as you took the paper from his large hand.

You wondered what was so unsettling in the paper, but soon got your answer as you read the headline in the current events column.

Star Stylist Tigris Has Transformed Into Her Namesake, A Tiger

As if that wasn't enough, the picture of her transformed face made you gasp. She no longer looked like herself, but truly did look like a tiger. She had plastic surgery and tattoos to modify her face, neck, and chest. Black lines zig zagged all over her and her once blue eyes were now a bright yellow with thick, sweeping liner. She even had whisker implants and her upper lip split to mimic the mouth of a cat. Even her hair was different. The once light blonde locks now had chunk black highlights in it. 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Why would she do that? She was so pretty…

You must've asked your question out loud, because the next thing you know your husband's sitting next to you, sighing, “I don't know why, my darling rose. She was pretty, but now nobody will ever want her.” Taking the paper from you and passing you back your book, he knowingly said, “If only she didn't tell you lies; try to break us up. Then she wouldn’t be alone.”

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow x reader #innocent!reader #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coryo snow fanfiction

[harmonictechnicality]

*based off this awesome art right here by @chocoarts - the sketch on the left in particular :)

It doesn’t take long for Steve to get used to Eddie’s raised-by-wolves levels of affection. The hair chewing and the shoulder nibbles and the freckle licking. It’s never classified normal stuff - definitely not stuff he ever did with dainty Hawkins High girls, that’s for damn sure.

But still, it takes no time to get used to it. Full on expects it, by now. The most notable time that Steve is expecting it is on their one year anniversary.

Two months prior to the Big Day, Eddie's spontaneity and Steve's boredom led to an impulsive stick-and-poke tattoo on Steve's forearm. Eddie wanted to give Steve a simple crown. Told him it was to reclaim the stupid nickname from high school, make it his own.

'Overthrow all the teenaged bullshit. Kick trauma in the metaphorical ass.' Eddie had said after completing it, smiling up at Steve. 'It's what kings do best.'

After that day, Steve decides to add on to his impulsive tattoo and surprise Eddie with it. He gets one small bat, just like the ones on Eddie's arm. Gets it right next to the crown, side-by-side. The same way they all fought together a while back.

As soon as Eddie sees the addition, he tackles Steve, linebacker style. Steve is ready for it, totally braces for the aggressive affection. Fucking loves it. Expects it.

However, Eddie doesn't just stop there. Oh no. He climbs up Steve's body, tightly wrapping his arms around Steve's neck. Wraps his legs around Steve's upper arms even tighter.

Which... how the hell did Eddie get so flexible? And when the hell did Eddie get so flexible? Like, yeah they do some semi-contortionist stuff in the bedroom, mostly when they're hyped up on sugary soft drinks.

But this? This is... new. Wild.

He clutches on to Steve like he's a goddamn tree trunk. Some rare tree species that's in grave danger of being chopped down from the rainforest or whatever. He’s making lots of pleased sounds, singing maybe. Hard to tell for sure.

Steve holds Eddie firmly, hands underneath his thigh, his back, anywhere that he can get a solid grip. Keeps him safe from whatever corporate bulldozer that dares to take down their weirdly amazing love.

"Shit, I'm crazy about you." Eddie nuzzles into Steve's hair. "Like... totally and completely."

Steve laughs, comes out a bit strangled from the way Eddie is clinging to him. "Guessing you like it, huh?"

"Duh." Eddie slides off, connecting their hands on his way down.

"It represents-"

"I know what it represents." Eddie interrupts, his expression softens from the reminder, the difficult topic they're both skipping around. "You don't have to say it."

He does though, Steve has to say it. Needs to say it the same exact way Eddie had said it to him two months ago.

Because yeah, they act tough about what went down that night. But that doesn't mean they should just be stuck in a cycle of Acting Tough. Pretending to be okay all the damn time.

So Steve takes Eddie's arm, the one that's covered with tiny bat silhouettes. He holds their two arms together and carefully brushes over each tattoo design. Tells Eddie to reclaim the stupid scars that litter his body.

"Fight off all the inter-dimensional bullshit. Kick trauma's metaphorical ass." Steve smiles up at Eddie, who suddenly looks serious, focused. "It's what heroes do best."

"Steve." The seriousness is wiped clean off of Eddie's face. It's quickly replaced with a gentle grin. Relief reaching over his furrowed brow. No more worry lines. No more grimace. He looks at ease. Content, maybe.

And as much as Steve enjoys making Eddie feel content, he wants him happier right now. So he switches up the energy, tries to lighten the mood a little. Steve hooks his fingers into Eddie's front pockets, readying to pull him in.

It's predictable, been his go to make-out move any time they're standing up. This is a special fucking day, however, and that calls for a Special Edition Make-Out Move.

So Steve digs each hand deep into Eddie's pockets, wiggles them around a bit. Watches Eddie's cheeks go pink, blotchy red in some places. Steve moves all of the coins and lint and questionable items out of the way, making room.

He takes deep breath, then yanks the seams at the very bottom of each pocket, flipping the material inside out. Sticking straight up from his jeans.

Eddie is all red now, flushed down to his neck. "What the..."

Steve tugs on the flipped out pocket seams, jolting Eddie closer. He lands on Steve's lips, colliding a bit roughly. For a second, they're too busy smiling to kiss properly. But Steve slides his hands up Eddie's chest, around his neck, scratches the tiny hairs on the back of Eddie's head, and that's it. That's all that it takes for them to get lost in the kiss.

Eddie's mouth opens, biting the center of Steve's bottom lip. Breathes out the warmest air as he lets go, returns to a softer approach. Steve licks over the spot, soothes the pulse that Eddie left behind.

"That was... different. " Eddie laughs. He swipes his tongue over Steve's cupids bow, traces an outline until Steve is laughing too.

"Bad different?" Steve asks.

"Not at all." Eddie shakes Steve by the shoulders like he’s nuts for asking such an outrageous question. "Besides, different is right up my alley, babe."

"I'm highly aware."

"Didn't realize I was such a bad influence on your freakier side."

"What can I say?" Steve shrugs, steals one of Eddie’s rings to twirl around his finger. "I'm very easily persuaded."

They head over to the couch, kissing haphazardly as they flop down. Eddie tugs and twists at the fabric of Steve’s shirt, stretching it out. Wrinkling it. Steve couldn’t care less if it gets ruined because Eddie will be the one ruining it.

Eddie sighs into the kiss. Not a sexy sigh either (which are obviously Steve’s favorite of the sighing variety). It sounds more shocked. Disbelief or something.

Steve angles his head away from the kiss to see that Eddie’s eyes are open, wandering all over Steve’s face. It’s pretty cute, seeing Eddie too busy just staring to even shut his eyes mid-kiss. Like his schedule is too jam-packed up with Gawking, has to multitask during their make out sessions now.

"Kinda can’t believe it." Eddie finally says, still staring.

"What?" Steve stares backs. Makes it a staring contest. Doesn't tell Eddie though cause he wants to win.

Eddie motions toward his pockets that are still turned inside out. "After one whole year, you still keep me on my toes with shit like that."

"I do?"

"Sure do. You're something else, babe.”

"I am?" Steve blinks.

Damnit, he lost the one-sided staring contest.

“Yup.” Eddie nods, transitions to chewing on a chunk of Steve’s hair like he always does. Sometimes, he’ll make mooing sounds. Especially after sex, when he’s at his goofiest. Most comfortable.

It’s fucking unreal how Steve has learned all of these quirks. How he waits for them, anticipates them. Every bit feels familiar to him now.

"You're unexpected in all the best ways, Harrington."

Steve tries not to gush at that compliment. It's not one he gets often.

Eddie stops chewing on Steve’s hair to kiss his cheek instead. The kiss is powdery-sweet, miles away from his usual eagerness. Still perfect somehow. Just like the weird stuff is somehow perfect too.

That's kind of who they are together. Weird and unexpected.

In all the best ways.

#steddie #steddie fic #bit of fluff to sweeten the weekend #just wanted to celebrate their 2k follower milestone with this little ficlet #so congrats!! 🎉 #thank you for creating lovely art for this fandom! #I’m sorry I can’t draw nice things to show my gratitude #so I hope these words will be sufficient instead :) #and if you hate them then just pretend this never happened lol

[tunastime]

do androids dream of electric sheep?

I am nothing if not a vessel for self-indulgent docsuma, especially @shepscapades's dbhc self-indulgent docsuma. sometimes you fall asleep in the lab, and sometimes your friend feels compelled to make sure you're okay <3

(3964 words)

Doc sometimes slips into daydream.

It’s not unlike him. He’d been doing it for some time now, some fix halfway between awake and Sleep Mode. Not quite his mind palace, but still wedged into predictive processes, still trying to work to replay memories. In quiet moments, more often than not, he finds that it’s easier to slip away, to tuck himself into his work, drafting, or building, or walking thoughtful circles and let the mechanical parts of his mind slip away into calculation.

In those same dreams, he tries to calculate the probability of events with what he has, blocking out the movements of who he knows best, who he may be able to pinpoint. He works in quiet as his mind runs in the background, wondering how conversations may go, how actions could be perceived. He maps what might happen if someone got hurt, or if someone needed help, or if someone fell asleep in the lab. Someone. Just anyone. He tells himself it could be anyone, but he would be lying if he didn’t know who.

It was hard, right—it felt wrong if he didn’t. Something he was designed to do, put to waste because it felt silly to imagine waking his lab partner, his friend, making sure he was alright, helping him. Was it wrong to want to be helpful? Was it wrong to want anything? It feels—it’s silly. Want was such a human word. He’s not sure he can really want at all. The paper in front of him is getting fuzzy around the edges, though, as he forces himself back into his true waking mode, and focuses on the task in front of him, now a line of text in his eyesight.

Doc leans hard on his hand, cupped around the side of his jaw as he studies the plans in front of him. He’s long since set them to memory, easily recalled with the summon of command, but he works out the fine details of the draft in front of him, still unsatisfied with his new creation. He works quietly, mentally mapping the lists of supplies he might need, the time it may take. If he were to concentrate the slightest bit more on the display in the corner of his vision, he might note how late it had gotten. Without any windows down here, the night sky can’t leak in, which means Doc doesn’t know it’s gotten dark until Xisuma starts to yawn or he manages to peek outside. 

He sets his pad down, eyes skimming the surface. Right, and where was X, anyway? The space, ever growing, up, down, sideways, that he used as his lab had gone still and quiet some time ago. Enough for Doc to take note of. Enough to be a little odd, he would assume, even for him, and the behaviors he knows well from Xisuma. Xisuma didn’t just wander off without a word—he was much too narrative for that. Doc sits up, hand falling to the table. 

“X?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. The room stays quiet, aside from the hum of recirculating air and electronics. Doc taps his hand against the table—it was some sort of tic he’d picked up from Ren, a sign of his impatience. He couldn’t shake the habit of mimicking it while he was thinking.

Okay, right. Last time he saw X. He gathers up the recall of the path Xisuma would’ve taken from his side, checking over his work at Doc’s request, and around the lab itself, looping back to a series of benches to work on. Leaning from his spot, he tries to pinpoint the peek of green helmet or shoulder piece. He finds neither in the direct line of sight, though, and slowly, bracing his prosthetic arm on the table, Doc stands. 

It’s a gentle quiet that fills the room, nice and easy and soft to step through as Doc makes his way around the space. Despite having another work bench quite close, Xisuma had a habit of leaving his stuff about, flitting between projects as he saw fit. It was interesting, sometimes, to watch him move around the room—not that Doc had done any of that. He seemed to bounce from point to point, sometimes staying still for hours, unmoving, lost in work. It was in those hours that Doc found himself watching, just for a moment, studying the shallow curve of his nose and the way his hair fell into his face from behind his helmet. 

His office is here, too. Though it’s no different than any other working space in terms of equipment, the space itself is fully outfitted, lined with tools and a large work table, his computer, a desk with a chair. Through the glass, he can see the shape of Xisuma at his desk, likely too caught up in whatever he had been working on to notice Doc’s concern. Doc pauses as he slides open the door, standing in the doorway, announcing himself to the cluttered room.

“Xisuma,” Doc starts. “I know it’s late, if you want to head home, I’m sure I can finish…”

Xisuma is slumped over on  his desk as Doc enters. There’s a brief moment, no more than a second, where Doc’s mind spins a scenario hard and fast, the crumpled shape of Xisuma over his desk. But he can see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. He registers the slow, steady heartbeat in Xisuma’s chest, and his shoulders sag with relief. He stands in the doorway for a moment. Xisuma looks small, head pillowed on his arms. He’s still running a series of code on the console next to him, which illuminates the back of his head in pale lines of data. His hair falls half loose across his shoulder, like he’d forgotten to finish tying it away from his face, and the slow, deep breaths make it seem like he’d been sleeping here a lot longer than Doc realized. He’s without his helmet, too, which sits beside him on the desk, discarded.

Long enough to get a sore neck and complain about his upper back hurting. Long enough to worry that he might not be getting enough oxygen. Doc sets his shoulders. There’s something in his chest that feels like it skips—regulator, pump, or otherwise. They work in tandem to produce whatever fluttery feeling invades the space where his ribs should be. He presses the heel of his synthetic hand against the depression of his chest, rolling his wrist. The feeling fades for a moment, shuddering through his wrists like it might rest there. He was never going to get used to it, was he?

He steps into the lab proper, sticking his hands into his pockets. He picks his way around the room, trying to walk quietly around it. Xisuma stays asleep, shoulders rising and falling in that even tempo. Doc crouches beside him—Xisuma is properly slumped, back curved forward as he rests. What little Doc can see of his face is soft with sleep, eyelids fluttering just so. When X doesn’t move, he rests his palm over the curve of his shoulder, gentle and slow. He tries not to focus on the fact that so much of his face is exposed to him, aside from just his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He’s seen him before, briefly, every so often, but it was so different watching him now, calm and comfortable. Doc forces himself to focus.

“Xisuma,” he says, voice dipping low and quiet. He runs his hand over the part of his shoulderblade he can reach. He pats the high of his back. “Xisuma, hey…”

X takes a long breath in, making a squeaky sort of sound high in his chest. Doc feels him hum out from under his hand.

“Doc,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. It was a tired sort of rumble, just on the edge of being rough with sleep, just enough to bring that feeling back to Doc’s internal components, like thirium was sludging too quick too warm through him. He huffs a little breath, a sound caught in his throat.

“You fell asleep at your desk, X,” Doc says, not able to weasel the amusement out of his voice. He runs his hand over his back again, just to see Xisuma’s eyes open tiredly, and shut again. It was so unlike the version of him that he knew in his mind, seeing him savor the brief contact, even from Doc. Especially from Doc. Xisuma was always the one reaching out for him, repairing or correcting or studying. All with purpose. There was no lingering touch between them. And though this had its purpose too, Doc lingered, feeling Xisuma breathe under his hand. 

“Sorry,” X mumbles, finally moving to lift his head, to open his eyes. Doc’s hand slides away as X sits up, over his back and back to Doc’s side. Xisuma blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. A frown comes between his eyes as he tries to focus the world around him a little clearer. Like it were mimicking the score across his cheek and nose, there’s a fine indent pressed into his cheek. Doc smiles at him, scrunching his nose in a way he’s seen X do a hundred times. 

Xisuma jolts, half reaching for the helmet beside him. If Doc were to really look, he might see the pink-red flush over his cheeks and ears.

“Sorry—I didn’t…”

There he lingers, halfway to reaching. Doc looks away from him, purposefully averting his eyes.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You have to be comfortable too.”

Xisuma hums, smiling a little, hanging his head as he leaves his hand on the table.

“Hah,” he says, ears still pink. “Right. Sorry, sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t know where you had gone off to, so I figured I would come make sure you were okay.”

X nods. Doc watches him twist around, hearing the faint give and pop as his spine adjusts to sitting upright. 

“‘M alright,” he says. Then he laughs a bit—the sound is airy and half in his chest, enough to shake his shoulders but more of a wheeze than anything else. Everything fit so well to the timbre of Xisuma’s voice, it seemed, be it the way he moved about, or the way he laughed, or the way his shoulder sloped or face was shaped. Not that Doc had been looking. Regardless, Xisuma sighs, and smiles back at him.

“Just embarrassed is all,” he manages. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate you.”

X leans back in his chair. Doc watches him resettle and hum to himself as he gets comfortable against the plush backing. Doc makes a clipped sound, reaches out and moves away again, halfway between shaking him awake and letting him sleep.

“X,” he says. “Would it not be more comfortable if you were sleeping in your spare room?”

Xisuma frowns. 

“Would be,” he says, eyes still closed, mumbling. “It just gets awfully cold in there. ‘N if I’m perfectly comfortable in here, why not stay tha’way?”

It’s almost amusing, the trickle of stubbornness that leaks into the tired slur of Xisuma’s voice. It’s almost endearing. He watches X fold his arms over his chest, armor only partly discarded, watches his face wrinkle as he notices and tries to rearrange himself. Doc smiles, something that he simply can’t help—it feels so right, considering how ridiculous this is. He considers his options and weighs the success rates, the action taking a fraction of a second in time, though the scene plays out in his head in full.

“Because you’ll hurt your back,” Doc says plainly. X frowns, clearly mulling it over. There—that’s one that Doc knows, that face, where X slips into thought and worries the inside of his cheek and works his jaw. Doc raises his eyebrows, as if to question him without saying anything, without Xisuma even looking at him.

“Mhh,” Xisuma huffs. He pulls his knees up. Somehow, he manages to fit himself into his desk chair, curling his tall body over his knees and leaning sideways into the back. Doc hums, makes the approximation of the sound he knows.

“Xisuma,” he says. “I’m not going to let you sleep in that chair, you know. You are being stubborn.”

“M‘kay, okay…” Xisuma wheezes, finally uncurling himself.

It takes him a second. Watching Xisuma stretch and blink awake is like watching him come to life. He stretches up and around, face pulling as he likely unsuccessfully shakes the tension from the line of his spine. As he twists, he freezes, face scrunching all at once as he winces, hand shooting up to cup his neck.

“Ow. Jeez.”

He can see it tight in his shoulders and neck, even as X deflates, looking up at him blearily, still slightly slumped in his chair. His eyes shut again. 

“Xisuma…” Doc says, mouth twisting.

X sighs.

“‘M fine, Doc,” he manages to murmur out. “Just’a sore neck. Mm’exhausted.”

“Sounds like you need a real bed, mm?” Doc replies, setting his hands on his hips. Xisuma peeks at him, one eye opening, and shutting again.

He sees the fraction of a smile lift the corners of X’s mouth.

“Sure, sure…”

Doc looks over Xisuma’s face. With his eyes shut, face softening, hair tumbling over one shoulder, he looks comfortable. It’s as if someone took a brush to his features and smoothed out any hard edge—either that, or the static has leaked back into Doc’s vision. He feels a chug in his chest and his joints as he locks up.

X hasn’t moved. Doc reaches out, tapping his knee. Xisuma huffs, clearly startled from the half-sleep he’d drifted back into.

“Too tired t’stand,” he manages. Doc makes a questioning noise.

“I think you can make it,”

There’s a beat of silence. Xisuma cracks an eye open again, shuts it, furrowing his eyebrows. Doc watches him curiously, mind running through the list of possible scenarios. He’s made it part way when Xisuma says:

“‘M using you t’stand, then.”

And he makes a little, amused heh, before he says:

“That’s fine.”

There’s something he means to say alongside that, but as soon as X’s very warm, very human hand makes contact with the fabric of his lab coat and the cool synthetic of his arm, he loses focus. He should be used to this—the amount of times X has performed his routine maintenance, sweeping his hands over the replaced shoulder joint to check for seams, or made sure the regulator functioned, or backed up personal data, fingers skimming the shallow port at the back of his neck. He should be, but that contact alone sends a prickling-warm jolt up his arm. It feels foreign to let the touch linger. But Xisuma lingers regardless, hand flat against the space where Doc’s left ribs should be. He’s gone from holding, to simply sitting there, arm bent at the elbow, held weakly up. 

“Mrghh…” he complains. Doc taps his elbow, trying to jolt him back awake.

“C’mon, X, you can get up.”

X shakes his head slowly, his hand finding the inner curve of his prosthetic arm, squeezing just once, like he’s remembering it’s there. Then, X leans into him, all at once, slumping into his chest. Doc lets out a wouf in surprise. He holds still, aside from the simulated breath in his chest. After a moment, Xisuma makes a small, tired sound, almost like a laugh.

“Houfh,” he mumbles. “I, mm, don’t…don’t think ‘m gonna make it, Doc.”

“Mhm…” Doc chides. 

Xisuma laughs again, lying still for a moment, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a moment where he shifts, and there’s a small, painful noise that he makes.

“Ow, mrrgh—ow, okay—” he gripes. Doc’s synthetic hand finds the curve of his shoulder, patting gently.

“Oh, X—just…stay still, mhm?”

“Mm,” Xisuma says tiredly, “Alright.”

As much as he wants to move him, X is still wearing that damn armor.

Doc lets him lean into his chest as he tries to weasel off the bits of armor left over. It’s a struggle, keeping X comfortable and trying not to pull him around awkwardly, while trying to remove his chestplate with one hand. Once the armor pulls away, he resettles him, slowly scoops one hand under his legs. Something about this, about the way Xisuma leaned heavy into him, felt so painfully human he feels it curl up between the wires connecting his regulator to his side fans.

“Ready?” he says, mostly to the top of Xisuma’s head.

“Mmh…” X murmurs.

He hefts him into his arms, settling him against his chest. When Xisuma sighs, it’s profound and heavy and he tucks his face into Doc’s coat. Doc can feel the remnant of heartbeat from where his arm rests behind his back, thudding away behind his ribs. His breathing stays even, though shallow. One of Xisuma’s hands clasps over the back of his neck, keeping him still.

It’s a careful walk to Xisuma’s spare room. Doc is careful not to bump anything, measuring the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he walks. He drifts back to sleep, though, through the lab, through Doc shutting the lights off. He’ll have to come back through to power down their various computers, but for now, the dull white-blue glow illuminates the room. He carries him into the halls and through and to his room. It’s smaller than the room in his base by a sizable margin—just enough for the essentials. X stirs as Doc pauses to flip on the lamp, the light warm and yellow briefly illuminating the room. This can’t be a daydream, now, with the way X sighs and wriggles himself free as Doc pulls back the quilts and lets him down. He sits down with him, and the warm shape that Xisuma makes curls toward him, just a fraction, as he pulls the blankets over him. 

Part of Doc knows that Xisuma won’t remember him carrying him to bed, or making sure he was warm, or keeping the light on so he wasn’t disoriented when he woke. Xisuma sighs, sinking into the pillows, expression relaxed and content. Doc hums.

“That’s better, yeah?” Doc says. He reaches out, instinct, want, desire, something, hammering away in his chest, as he brushes hair from X’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He brushes through the hair close to the base of his neck, across his cheek with his synthetic thumb. His dark hair is fine and soft and it must be a daydream—or it isn’t and he was right, because there have been moments like this in his head. Wondering if Xisuma would let himself succumb to soft comforts. He’s spent his own share of time lying next to him, ignoring the way Xisuma curls up next to him, pretending he himself didn’t move closer when Xisuma lies still. It was this dance that Doc didn’t understand, that he wasn’t sure if he was overthinking. Or overstepping. But Xisuma shifts, pressing his cheek to Doc’s synthetic palm, and Doc suppresses a shudder. It sparks something that could’ve been painful right up his arm and through his chest, bright and warm and staticky. 

Doc hums, smiling to himself. Something like a dull thrum knocks in that space of his pump, pushing itself a little further, a little harder. It was sweet. X trusts him, not only to see him without his armor, but to help him to bed, to help him sleep. But Doc lifts his hand away, feeling that ache, the nervous shudder through his system.

X makes a sound, then, something small, eyes fluttering as Doc pulls away. Doc pauses.

“Mhh,” X manages. Doc swallows—he shouldn’t have to. That’s not something he should have to do, or be able to do, but the action just feels appropriate. It goes right along with sighing and laughing, and as he does it, Xisuma says:

“Thanks,” in a small, soft voice, and, muffled, and slightly slurred with sleep: “Didn’t have’ta stop.”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, Xisuma,” Doc says. He can feel his temperature tick up several notches, no doubt a blue flush coming to the high of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. He laughs, just a bit. “Did I wake you up?”

X sighs, stretching as he does.

“No,” he manages. “No, y’didn’t…”

“Oh,” Doc says. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Xisuma nods slowly. Ah. Ah. Doc dismisses a temperature notification.

“A little.”

“Mm,” Doc hums. “Silly Xisuma.”

Xisuma laughs. The sound is high and a little fuzzy and a bit caught in his throat. His bright eyes blink up at him and shut again as a smile settles on his face. 

“Doc?” he asks. 

“Mhm?”

Xisuma yawns, smothering it with the back of his hand, just barely. He tucks that hand close to his chest, curling up further still under his thick comforter. 

“Could you…could’you do tha’again? The…” Xisuma lifts his hand, miming a brushing motion as he does. Another temperature warning, higher than the last, blips into Doc’s field of vision. It’s immediately dismissed, but he pulls in a breath, quiet, trying to turn it into a soft laugh.

“I can do that,” Doc says gently. Gingerly, he brushes his fingers through X’s hair, sliding back against his head. He combs through, lifting his hand to go back to his forehead, back to cradle his skull. X’s eyes fall closed again.

Doc can tell the moment that Xisuma truly slips into sleep. He lingers in his space, tracing out the base of his skull with his thumb, taking in the sensation of warmth and contact and stimulation, fingers flickering white up to his wrist. He wishes biting down on his tongue would do anything. He wishes that the hollow of his chest didn’t hold a weight that no diagnostic could fix. He felt too awkward and stilted and not nearly gentle enough. But as Xisuma stays asleep, he draws his hand away. He mumbles his good nights as he stands slowly, shutting out the light and wandering from the room. 

He makes his way back into the lab. He replays the memory of Xisuma’s small smile, the fine line of his scar as he’d pressed his face into the pillow, the way he’d relaxed against Doc’s touch. He replays the memory, again, and again. It has to be a daydream. Has to be. There’s no other logical explanation to all of that.

Maybe that would explain the ache in his chest, far too human to be his own.

Doc goes back to work. He sits down at the lab table, spreading his arms as he braces against the white tabletop. He furrows his eyebrows. Something doesn’t feel right, too warm or out of place. He feels gross. Not gross bad, maybe, gross different? Broken? Not broken, maybe. Weird. Wrong. Out of place. It doesn’t make any sense. Or it has, and he’s refusing the obvious answer. Xisuma didn’t ask for any reason. Xisuma asked because he was tired, and tired people do silly things, and silly people are a handful, and Xisuma is a handful—a lovely one. Doc shuts his eyes. His chest hurts. It’s an awful hurt, actually, less painful than it is just weird. He thinks for a moment he might be better off if he left, maybe the weight of whatever lingered in his memory would be better off if he were to take a break from standing in the same spaces. 

He sends Xisuma a message. From his office, he hears his com ping.

Docm77 whispered to you… Xisuma I’m stepping out, sleep well :-)

#hermitcraft dbh au #dbhc #docsuma #docm77 #xisumavoid #dbhc doc #dbhc xisuma #hermitcraft fic #hermitshipping #mcyt fic #fics #text #i crumple into a pile of ash and dust on the ground #i am blown away by the wind #i'd like to thank theo hitheeprithee and sam artsy book for express shipping this fic #i sat down and edited in like an hour post dinner and iam so so sleepy #but alas i must post. it is required #shepherd if you're out there and you see this i never forgor about the one time i wrote them #oh this is incredibly self-indulgent #and i care them so badly #please let them kiss. please. pl--

[rustytrident]

the brothers in bed hcs (18+)

spoiler none of them are doms

ch: lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor

cw: 18+ mdni!! mentions of praise, degradation, hard kinks, pet play, overstimulation, edging, toys, feminisation, pain, objectification, mirror sex, filming, pegging, sensory deprivation, mutual masturbation, punshiments, mind break, somnophilia

a/n: is this gonna be biased cause i like sub men? probably. am i still right? definitely.

lucifer:

a sub. but like what were you expecting.

really likes praise, to the point where you can see his eyes shine whenever you praise him

one of the most obedient of the bunch, he just really likes being told he's being good for you :((

i can see him being into really hard kinks cause he just wants to plummet into sub space and forget he exists for a bit

can honestly be very teasing and sarcastic with you at times, but only when he has the energy for it.

likes: hard kinks, praise, restraints

dislikes: degradation, spit, quickies

mammon:

switch but mostly subs

he teases the fuck out of u as a dom. like will not give you what you want until you beg and beg and beg

wants to get absolutely destroyed when subbing though. like sometimes he'll just be mean to u so u can use him

puppyboy. i think he'd like a pretty collar but u didn't hear that from me

not too big on being degraded, but it can really turn him on if u mostly praise him and throw a bit of degrading in

likes: free use, pet play, overstimulation

dislikes: monotony, company, blindfolds

levi:

also a switch but the dom side comes out once in a blue moon

likes praise and degradation equally, but be careful not to favor one over the other

toys toys toys!! he has sooo many and loves to have them used on himself, especially likes ones that vibrate

really likes feminisation!! put him in little skirts and lacy underwear and he's already gone like :((((

not the biggest fan of pain (he hates it)

likes: humiliation, feminisation, toys

dislikes: pain, imbalance, mirrors

satan:

100% switch. likes to keep it fresh

the sweetest dom ever. he has read too much erotica to know exactly what to say

catboy!! cliche but come on. don't tell me that he secretly hasn't been crafting the perfect fursona design for centuries

hates being degraded the most. only be nice to him, he can't handle it

i can see him being into pain tbh, but only some times (he'll tell u dw)

likes: petplay, praise, dacryphilia

dislikes: restraints, degradation, objectification

asmo:

is he a switch? naturally. does he enjoy being a sub the most? absolutely.

has a thing about ruining your or his makeup. just. smear his lipstick, make him smudge his eyeliner, yknow how it is

mirrors!! and filming!! he's the biggest star he wants the world to see!!

very open to people joining, but mostly he enjoys the intimacy of being with you

edge him. i think it does things to him idk.

likes: being filmed, mirror sex, edging

dislikes: :/

beel:

subsubsubsubsubsubsub

he's just there to please. use him however u like, he really doesn't mind

auralism?? in this household?? more likely than u think.

wants to touch u at all times. so so soft in how he handles u god i need him :(((

likes being pegged. there's something about feeling full that does it for him yknow?

likes: pegging, slow sex, your voice

dislikes: hard kinks, sensory deprivation, mutual masturbation

belphie:

look me in the eyes and tell me. tell me what u think (he's a switch but who likes domming when u can just let. go.)

very much into mind break. like make him black out make him forget where what who and when

somno. predictable, yes, but like. he was made for this, no one can change my mind

pillow prince!! doesn't care what u call him, just make him feel all important and giddy

a brat.

likes: somno, edging and overstim, being bratty

dislikes: being on top, gentle doms, company (unless it's beel)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #lucifer obey me #lucifer x reader #mammon obey me #mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #satan obey me #satan x reader #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub obey me #beelzebub x reader #belphegor obey me #belphegor x reader #sing me a song // the song of our glory

[anthurak]

Something I absolutely love about the alternate-timeline aspect of Scott Pilgrim Takes Off is that it really feels like a logical extrapolation and ‘next-step’ to the genre/trope-subversion and exploration of the original comic.

Remember how the whole idea of Scott Pilgrim the comic is taking a very basic, generic and ‘tropey’ premise; ‘Boy likes girl, boy must defeat girl’s seven evil exes in order to date her’, and uses it as the backdrop and framework to explore, deconstruct and develop its characters.

Like how the biggest conflict at any given point of the comic is never the actual battles with any of the Seven Evil Exes, but rather Scott being forced to confront some major problem with himself or his relationship with Ramona (usually the former). How the true ultimate ‘antagonist’ for both Scott and Ramona isn’t any of the Evil Exes, but rather themselves. Their own long-festering hang-ups and insecurities that they’ve been refusing to confront or acknowledge that have in turn led to them being pretty shitty people over the course of their lives. For as bad as Gideon is, he’s still only a mirror showing all the bad that SCOTT could become.

So with that in mind, it really feels like the anime simply took this idea a step further: What if we took the basic, generic and tropey premise that nonetheless served as the framework for the story and held it together… and broke it.

When the narrative guide and scaffolding that held the original story on a certain course is shattered when the story is just getting started, where does the story go?

It’s actually one of the ways I think Scott Pilgrim Takes Off can be appreciated even if you haven’t read the comic or watched the movie. Even if you aren’t familiar with the story, the first episode makes it pretty easy to guess how this story should play out: Scott meets Ramona, they have their first date, they really hit it off and seem set to become a couple. We’re introduced to what clearly seems to be our ‘Big Bad’ in Gideon and our ‘Starter Villain’ in Matthew. Again, even if you don’t know one thing about Scott Pilgrim, by the time Matthew Patel crashes the party you probably have a pretty good idea how this whole story SHOULD go.

And then Matthew (seemingly) KILLS SCOTT in their first fight!

THEN the second episode ratchets things up even further when all signs point to Scott, our title character, being ACTUALLY DEAD for real. And then Matthew, again the guy who should be the starter villain, goes and beats Gideon Graves, the guy who clearly SHOULD have been the FINAL BOSS of this story!

And then the third episode sees Ramona, the girl previously set-up as the designated love-interest, firmly established as the new PROTAGONIST of the story. With Ramona given both an overarching goal in finding what really happened to Scott, and an ongoing character-arc of meeting and reconciling with each of her ‘evil exes’.

Basically, even if you aren’t familiar with the full specifics of the source material, I feel like Scott Pilgrim Takes Off can still be enjoyed as essentially a show that at first sets up what seems to be a fairly wrote and predictable story before flying COMPLETELY off the rails at the end of its first episode into something quite a bit more unique.

#scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim takes off #spto #scott pilgrim ramblings #ramona flowers #matthew patel #gideon graves #rambling about genre subversion

[cozycottagetarot]

Quick Pick: Messages From Your Person

Hello, my loves! It's been way too long, but I'm finally back (hopefully for a long time) with a new reading as well as a bit of a rebrand. Today's reading is focused on messages from your person (kind of in the realm of a future spouse but generally a long-term partner) but I think for some of you it may come across as a current partner as well.

This is a pretty experimental reading for me. I want to start including an 'energy check' of sorts to help you better figure out if a pile is for you or not. I've done 'channelled' messages before but I felt weird about them so I've decided to give it a try again. The message aspect of this reading is just a free-flow writing of the cards that were pulled. And of course, I decided to play around a little bit more with my graphics. I'm always open to feedback, so I'd love to gather your thoughts on the set-up and reading itself.

Elle 🌿

P.S. I'm trying to re-do my masterlist but can't locate all my old pacs easily. If you come across one, I wouldn't mind if you send me the link. 🙏

Support My Work | MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: When reading tarot, my aim is to focus on self-reflection and seeking guidance. The readings you'll find here are designed to add a pinch of fun and entertainment to your day. While I might sprinkle in some advice that hopefully vibes with you, please remember that these insights aren't a substitute for any professional advice you might need-- after all, you know your journey best! For any love-related or future-focused readings, consider them captivating musings exploring possibilities. Divination inspired stories even. I can't predict the future but I do hope to add some enjoyment and insights into your everyday. Lastly my darlings, please take from these readings what resonates with you most, be it some, all or none, and leave the rest. 🌟

PILE 1

Note: Pile 1 your pile gave me absolute hell the first time around 😭. I was writing/channelling the message and the energy literally just gave way at one point, I was flabbergasted 🫨. Anyway, the second pull was much clearer, but I included notes I felt were important from the first pull in the post-reading notes section.

Your Energy:

Going through an awakening. A need or call for self-reflection. A new cycle is beginning. You must face what you are running from within, but you must also be patient. Rely on your inner strength. Needing to learn more about yourself before doing/trying something different. Potentially finding yourself in part of a mentorship. Connecting with people similar to yourself. Navigating regrets. Needing to let go of the old you. Needing to ground yourself.  A strong energy of needing to look within yourself. It is time to prepare yourself for your next journey.

The Message:

Can you let the past go? We’ve been through so much, the both of us, on our own and together. Why do you hold on to it when our future is waiting for us? I know I hurt you and I apologize. You didn’t deserve any of the pain I caused you. I don’t blame you [it felt like there was a specific reason but I couldn’t get the specifics] but I feel lost without you. I could tell you why, I want to, but words mean nothing without action. You know my story. My relationship with my mother, how that shaped me. You know I love the attention of it all, having everyone’s eyes on me. Makes me feel good.. makes me feel. But no one else’s attention mattered like yours did. I felt most close to myself with you. Please, please let go of that version of me you’re holding onto in your head. I’m taking space because I need to heal. I need to heal my relationship with me first before I can heal it with us. This isn’t goodbye; just so long for now. I’m taking time to put that me in the past too and find myself and what I want from this life. I mean it’s simple really, I want you, us. I want to give you the good life you deserve, but I need to fix myself first. Give me the self-love I deserve.

Post-Reading Notes:

There’s a mature, sad regretful energy. Someone on a journey of self-exploration. Two hurting souls who met at the wrong time. One of you may be further along in your healing journey or you’ve both healed parts of yourself and your relationship that the other one hasn’t healed yet.

First Pull Notes:

One of the first things that came to mind for me is a dark night of the soul… I haven’t heard that term in so long and I’ve completely forgotten what it means, but for someone in this pile, I feel like that may resonate a lot. Going through a tough time. Blow after blow. Your higher self or inner wisdom is trying to reach you. Introspection before a new beginning. An ending of something you don’t want to let go of?

Big things are happening in your life, and significant changes are taking place even though it might not seem that way right now. Lots of air energy. Gaining mental clarity is super important for you right now. Breakup vibes? You two are like opposite sides or motivations of the same energy. Holding on when you know you should let go. This is definitely your person (one of the cards literally says ‘You’re my person’).

PILE 2

Your Energy:

For some of you are at the end of suffering but lying to yourself about the truth of the outcome, while for others you’re running from the mistakes made along the way. Maybe it's both. You’re still grieving all that is lost, be gentle with yourself. Hard work and consistency may await you but keep at it. Adventure is closer than you think. You’re on the brink of success. Moving forward hurts, but you must. Your person (or something you've been romanticising) is waiting for you. You just have to be brave enough to step through the gate. Opportunities are coming your way. If you're interested in floral hobbies or embroidery go for it.

The Message:

I hear you. I haven’t given up on you. I hear the songs you play for me, I hear the songs of your heart. You’re my love, my soulmate. We were meant to be, you and me. You’re not crazy or insane, or any other term you demean yourself with. You’re my everything. I can feel your soul even though we’re apart. If I close my eyes hard enough, I can feel you there. I can see your sparkling soul mirroring mine... sad eyes, bright smile, you leave me in awe. I know you call to me, and I’m sorry I’m not there. Don’t hate me for it, please. I’m leaving behind all that has been holding me back… the same as you. I’m sorry it’s so lonely. I want to meet. What do you say? Impromptu trip to the tropics? Somewhere cold? I just want to escape the world with you and lie in your arms. You’re my home. I sit in your energy and let it guide me your way. But I do need time. Please be patient with me. I haven’t abandoned you. I’m finding me, for you. I dream about you so often and being the kind of person you’d inspire me to be.

Post-Reading Notes:

"I need you to run to me, run to me, lover." (Run by Hozier, the chorus specifically. I know the song is supposed to be a metaphor but I'm suggesting it at face value). A very healing energy to your person's messages. Your person could also fantasise about you a lot... in a non-x-rated 18+ kind of way. It was mentioned on one of the cards but that part of the card felt awkward in the rest of the cards. They’re possessive, it doesn't seem like in a negative or extreme way but again, that's not something that was strong or clear. There’s something to do with the attention of others. They just want to be yours completely… Honestly, a submissive yet dominant kind of energy. A protector and/or provider (take that as you will) who is absolutely smitten with you and will do anything you say.

I don't typically read for it, but one of the cards had twin flame written on it. It could also be symbolic of mirroring each other in your personal journeys in life.

PILE 3

Your Energy:

Powerful yet solitary energy. A new chapter of your life. Accomplishing a big goal. Moving to a new location. Creating a good foundation for yourself in preparation for what comes next. Balancing your energies. Sleep issues. Struggling with anxiety or managing thoughts after a traumatic event. Celebration. Having security. Authoritarian role or vibes.

The Message:

Okay, I can do this: I can’t get you off of my mind. I’m constantly thinking of you, viewing your content, trying to set myself up to run into you. I know it’s silly, especially since you hurt me. Who pines after the person that hurt them? Well, it wasn't meant to be mean. You’re just so mysterious I can’t ever read you and it or you make me nervous. I’m always worrying about what to say. I want to talk to you but opening up to others is hard. I’m afraid I’ll start crying or you’ll hear my voice crack. You’re my person. I’m sure of it. You’re everything I’ve hoped for in a person, everything I dream about before I go to sleep at night. You’re doing so well for yourself, but I want to spoil you and be there for you. Not always materially. I know you can cover that for yourself. But being there for you and spending time with you… I heard you were seeing someone. I hope it’s not true and even if it is, I hope it doesn't last. No, I’m not sorry. I’m going to work up the courage to reach out to you soon.

Post-Reading Notes:

Oh Pile 3, you’re so intimidating to your person. Secret admirer vibes. I definitely think you’ve got a very serious or professional energy and an intimidating appearance. That may especially be true if you’re taller than average for your demographic/s. The energies here feel very balanced or neutral (not heavily feminine or masculine) on both your end and theirs.

PILE 4

Your Energy:

Such a beautiful light-hearted energy. There’s such a beautiful and hopeful energy in this relationship here but it’s also possible someone or something is working against you right now. A very important decision is being made. Someone could be trying to take something from you, but keep going. You’ve got this incredible power/energy to you. Vows are super important, be it making them with someone else or making a vow to yourself to gain or achieve something. Collaboration. Having everything you need to succeed. There could be challengers coming your way but you're strong enough to overcome them.

The Message:

I’m sorry. I don’t know, that was immature of me. I swear it wasn’t like you thought but don’t worry I’m going to do better. Honest. You know, I dream about us being together and growing old. I dream about our kids. They’re so stinking cute. We’ve still got growing to do, ok, or I’ve still got growing to do. Please talk to me. You know I hate it when you give me the silent treatment. I know I disappeared on you and that wasn’t cool. I just get so… I care about you a lot. I don’t want to see you hurt. I want the best for you. I know I act all big and bad but I’m a softie at heart. That fight was weird. I don’t like it. It wasn’t like us. It meant nothing I know. Would you pack up and run away with me if I asked? I hate the distance between us right now. Im always listening to our playlist. I know I acted like I'm uninterested in something serious but I am. I want you. I miss you. I want to spoil you and give you everything you deserve. Just give me a chance. Please hear me out.

Post-Reading Notes:

The vibes while doing the reading felt like very young vibes? There’s a youthfulness there. Someone who either is actually young in age or hasn’t grown up emotionally in a certain aspect. It felt like they did something prideful that was hurtful to you and you two are in a disconnect during the moment captured in the reading. It didn’t feel like a serious fight. More so when you’re upset with someone and acting like you’re madder than you really are (your vibes) and the other person is sweating and begging you to talk to them again (their vibes).

Also, idk why but Peter Parker kept coming into my head 🕸️. I’m not feeling to analyse it so take it as you will.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #cozycottagetarot #future spouse reading #future spouse tarot reading #messages from your person #cozycottagetarot readings