#And he can't dictate the runnings of that world

[fantastic-nonsense]

@panacea420 : Porto Rico doesn't want statehood. Why. The people would lose their free money. Yes, they get money they won't vote for statehood . Second Trump trying to clean out Washington is a good thing. Think. A more efficient government. More money to keep in your pocket. Third my biggest hope will be flat rate taxes. Think. If we're supposed to be equal then we should pay a flat tax no deductions. Every person bissness. No give backs. Think. About it billionaires can't use tax breaks. If you make a buck pay a dime. No one gets a break. Were equal under the law. Plus a simple 5% national sales tax. Another way to make corporations pay their fair share. (After they try to say we didn't make a profit or pay their ceos too much. ) think about it?? Also stock options still you have to pay taxes on them as income. Then if the make money on them they pay again. Unlike the current policy. Of only when they cash out . Flat taxes are the only fair taxes I am a liberaltarian. Not a republican. And a registered independent. Why?? Think about this. If a political party thinks you'll vote for them no matter what. Then they will. Not care what you want??? Make each party work for your vote. Just think about that . Used to live in Indiana they didn't have a independent group why?? Again think about it. If both party's are in. Bed with each other?? Dick Chaney was the most hated person by the democrats now he was working with the democrats to keep Trump from winning???? Again think about this please

Sir this is a Wendy's and I have no idea why you put these replies on my post. Anyway, let's get a few things straight:

"Porto Rico doesn't want statehood. Why. The people would lose their free money" Puerto Rico has affirmatively voted for statehood four times over the past decade: in 2012, 2017, 2020, and a week ago, on November 5th, 2024. Yes, the exact significance of various individual referendum results is heavily debated due to a variety of local politics (including referendum boycotts, leadership infighting, and differing status choices), but the point stands: Puerto Rico has voted for statehood several times in the past decade, including a 52.52%–47.48% win in 2020, when Biden won. Hence, why I noted that the Democratic trifecta should have done the correct thing and admitted both PR and DC as states immediately upon taking their seats.

Second Trump trying to clean out Washington is a good thing. Think. A more efficient government. More money to keep in your pocket.

One, this is not what's going to happen. By any objective standards, Trump ran an insanely corrupt, incompetent, and inefficient government during his first term in office. He's a six-time failed businessman and convicted felon who cozied up to corrupt dictators around the world and attempted to run the government like he was Vito Corleone. He was literally impeached for corruption and attempted intimidation of another world leader. He's not interested in "cleaning out" anything, and you're frankly stupid for thinking he is. Why on earth do you trust a corrupt businessman who partied with Jeffery Epstein for years to "clean house"? He is part of the problem you're complaining about.

Two, it's hilarious you think anything Trump does will "put more money in your pocket." He has no interest in helping you. He does not care about you. He will not put money in your pocket. He will not lower your rent or put more groceries in your shopping cart. He's a conman who only cares about himself and enriching his own family and billionaire friends. Or did you forget about how US billionaires got over $1 trillion richer during the four years of Trump's presidency, or how Trump personally reported that his businesses made over $1.6 billion dollars in the same timeframe (largely due to the aforementioned corruption and attempts to curry favor)?

What happened to you in that same time period? Did your wages go up? Did your healthcare get better? Were you finally able to buy a house? No. Because Trump doesn't care about you and your "normal working class person" problems, and never has.

Third my biggest hope will be flat rate taxes. Think. If we're supposed to be equal then we should pay a flat tax no deductions. Every person bissness. No give backs. Think. About it billionaires can't use tax breaks. If you make a buck pay a dime. No one gets a break. Were equal under the law. Plus a simple 5% national sales tax. Another way to make corporations pay their fair share. (After they try to say we didn't make a profit or pay their ceos too much. ) think about it?? Also stock options still you have to pay taxes on them as income. Then if the make money on them they pay again. Unlike the current policy. Of only when they cash out . Flat taxes are the only fair taxes

Flat taxes are regressive. People whose incomes are lower end up paying a larger portion of their income than rich people under that model! They do not create "equality." If you're actually concerned about making sure rich people and corporations "pay their fair share," I am begging you to understand that flat taxes do not accomplish that goal. Rich people WANT you to advocate for flat taxes because it means they end up paying less money. Please go sit in on a Political Economy 101 class, I am begging.

But since I'm nice, I'll give you the short tl;dr on why flat taxes are bullshit and make rich people richer, straight from the IRS:

Take a look at Chart A and Chart C. Look at the actual amount of money that Family A is left with vs. Family C in those two scenarios after you take out taxes. Now compare those numbers to Chart B. You taken a good look at those numbers? Do you understand why flat taxes would be useless at "making billionaires pay their fair share" now, when Family C ends up with $98,000 in Chart A and $80,000 in Chart C vs. the $70,000 they end up with in Chart B (the correct way to tax rich people)?

Finally:

I am a liberaltarian. Not a republican. And a registered independent. Why?? Think about this. If a political party thinks you'll vote for them no matter what. Then they will. Not care what you want??? Make each party work for your vote. Just think about that . Used to live in Indiana they didn't have a independent group why?? Again think about it. If both party's are in. Bed with each other?? Dick Chaney was the most hated person by the democrats now he was working with the democrats to keep Trump from winning???? Again think about this please

I have no idea what you're trying to say here with your rambly little rant except "I hate the system as it stands." Which like. fine. Whatever. so do a lot of us. But this has absolutely nothing to do with anything I actually said and no, actually I don't have to "think about it." I would actually very much like you to shut up and stop rambling incoherently in my replies about something that is wholly irrelevant to the content of my post.

Anyway, this is all to day...sir, this is a Wendys and I am uninterested in you. Go back to high school civics class and come back only when you can actually explain to me, a political staffer, how any level of government (federal, state, or local) actually works on a basic, operational level.

Ok it's been 24 hours and my official post-mortem is literally just "Elizabeth Warren was right: Democrats should have appointed an Attorney General who was committed to prosecuting Trump and everyone who enabled him, cleaned house of Trump's appointees, nuked the filibuster to pass DC and Puerto Rico statehood, and prioritized dealing with corruption"

[ckret2]

Chapter 54 of everybody being really eager to kill their prisoner human Bill Cipher for good: the gang's trying a new way to create fuel for the one weapon guaranteed to destroy Bill.

It goes so great.

As Ford drove to Northwest Manor, Dipper skimmed through the introduction to Flatworld, where Edward Bishop Bishop was pretending that his book had been dictated to him by a sentient square; but he couldn't focus on it. He sighed, shut the book, and stared out the passenger window at the passing trees.

"Something on your mind?" Ford asked.

"I'm thinking about the Axolotl's poem again. The one about Bill."

"Ah. Still trying to remember the rest?"

"Kinda. Mabel and I are working on it together," Dipper said. "But it's not that. I've just been wondering... what if the poem is... you know, part of a prophecy about Bill or something? Mabel remembered another line of the poem—'A different form, a different time.' What if the Axolotl was telling us why Bill's back as a human? Maybe we need him here—to, to use his powers to fight off a bigger threat or something. Do you think that's possible?" He held back another question: what happens if we kill him before then?

Ford frowned thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about the Axolotl as well," he said. "About the worlds I visited that called it a god of criminals, tyrants, and luck. That sounds to me like the exact kind of being that would be Bill's ally. And it's odd how resistant Bill was to telling us anything about the Axolotl, when it simply passed over town for a few seconds and then moved on. Why the secrecy? How does Bill think it benefits him for us not to know about it?" Ford shook his head. "I think you're on to something, Dipper—I think whatever the Axolotl told you is important. The question is: important for whom?"

Dipper's stomach turned. The Axolotl had radiated such kindness; it was hard for Dipper to believe it could be up to anything evil with Bill. But then—Dipper clutched at Flatworld with the damning biography on the back—but then, how many people had Bill himself fooled with the benevolent teacher act?

Dipper understood now why "Don't Trust Bill" had so quickly turned into "Trust No One." Even when you knew that there was only one real enemy—even when you knew that most people out there were still reasonably honest and friendly—you could never tell just how far Bill's shadow stretched. "I guess that's true. We can't really know."

"We can't know yet. But it is worth trying to figure out," Ford said. "I wish I could tell you where to start looking for answers. For now... we'll just have to consider anything possible."

Ford was right. But all the same, every time Dipper paranoidly asked himself What if Grunkle Ford is right, what if the Axolotl really is on Bill's side, a second, even more paranoid, even more worried voice asked, But what if he isn't?

####

When they arrived, Fiddleford was already in his lab, hard at work on the miniature particle accelerator they'd come to see him about.

"The paradox what was powering it started yowling" Fiddleford said. "So obviously it ain't a paradox no more."

Ford grimaced. "That does lay to rest whether the cat is alive or dead."

"Sure does," Fiddleford said, sighing. "So I let the cat outside and I'm rebuilding the whole contraption to run on a more robust paradox. I hope you've got better news for me, Stanford."

"We hope so too. I think Dipper might have the solution to our fuel generation problem."

They briefly explained Dipper's unfortunate puppet incident last summer—Fiddleford had to take a break in the middle to grab a cup of coffee, "To steady my nerves,"—its ongoing effects on his sleep, and the new developments of the last few days, culminating in Dipper learning how to project his soul out of his body—

—which, Ford now realized, he probably should have expected Fiddleford to take poorly.

"Sweet sasparilla!" Fiddleford kicked over his chair while jumping onto the nearest table. "You're dead?!"

"What?" Dipper said. "No, I—"

"You're like a ghost possessing a zombie!"

Dipper thought that over. "Whoa..."

But, even though Fiddleford thought the whole affair went against the rightful order of the world, he agreed that it was a sound idea and worth trying. "It's lucky that my tater tot and I hunted out all the ghosts in this place during our spring cleaning," he said, opening a cabinet. He retrieved what looked like a pair of vacuums redesigned to be worn like backpacks with an assortment of random electronics dangling from wires. He held up a set of goggles and headphones hanging off one of the vacuums. "I invented these doohickeys that'll let you see and hear ghosts! They'll let us keep in contact with Dipper while he's out of his body." He set the vacuums on a table near the miniature particle accelerator and said, "First, though—Stanford, I need you to help me rebuild this machine."

"Of course." Ford turned away from the vacuum he'd been inspecting to look at the miniature particle accelerator.

Dipper said, "Wait, there are other ghosts in this mansion?"

"Yep!"

"I hunted one at the Northwests' big party last year," Dipper said. "How many more ghosts are in here?"

"We've caught, oh... thirty or forty so far."

"Seriously? That's amazing." Dipper was already thinking about the amazing Ghost Harassers episode this place could have been. Maybe even a miniseries.

"Aw, it weren't that hard. If you leave the TV on, they like to flock around it to watch. All you've gotta do is hide in the corner until a whole big bunch of 'em are gathered 'round—and then ya get them!"

"Oh," Dipper said. "Huh. I just tricked one into getting trapped in a silver mirror."

"Well, that's right impressive too. I never woulda thunk of that," Fiddleford said. "Me and Tate have been sucking them into cooling pouches in these here vacuums and then sticking the pouches in a chest freezer down in the dungeon! Maybe I oughta line the freezer with silver."

"This place has a dungeon?" Dipper asked.

Before Fiddleford could respond, Ford asked, "Which parts are we replacing?" He was inspecting the miniature particle accelerator.

"All of them!"

Ford gave Fiddleford a surprised look. "All of them?"

"Yep! Every last one!"

"Is the design changing that much?"

"Nope! It's staying exactly the same!"

"Then... why can't we just use the same machine we already have?"

"We will be using the same machine!" Fiddleford smiled mischievously. "Or will we?"

"Ah! I see! The particle accelerator of Theseus," Ford said. "Very clever."

"And kinder on the local stray cats, I reckon."

Dipper offered his assistance, but the work involved too much welding and buzzsawing for him to try untrained, so he was directed to sit a safe distance away with the first aid kit. At least it gave him a chance to read some more. He had to shove aside a couple flashlights and the glue grenade to reach where the slim book had slid to the bottom of his backpack during their walk from the car.

He skimmed over some of the worldbuilding looking for the story before he realized the story was the wordbuilding and looped back. It was a lot bleaker than he expected, even after Mabel's warning. Rigid class system, oppressive government, all kinds of horrifying shape prejudices... Frustrating dream visits to the ignorant line people in the first dimension who didn't believe in the second dimension, and to the self-absorbed King Zero in the point-sized zeroth dimension who thought a whole universe was contained inside him... A just as frustrating visit from a sphere who simply couldn't explain the third dimension in a way the square protagonist could understand, which was even more annoying since the square had just seen how the first dimension couldn't comprehend the second for the same reasons, so why couldn't he accept the possibility of a third dimension he couldn't imagine? Dipper got that it was supposed to be a metaphor to help three-dimensional readers understand that not being able to visualize a fourth dimension didn't mean it was impossible; but still. Come on, man. Don't be stupid.

On the other hand, at least now Dipper had a framework to understand the concept of higher dimensions and probably a leg up on next year's geometry. Would high school geometry cover four-dimensional space?

After a couple of hours of work and a break for lunch, the miniature particle accelerator was rebuilt and ready for another attempt to generate fuel. Fiddleford pulled on one of his ghost vacuums like a backpack, put on the set of connected headphones and goggles, and settled his glasses on over the goggles. "Y'all ready?"

"Ready," Ford said. He was seated at the accelerator's monitors, holding the jug that would contain any NowUSeeitNowUDontium they generated, and wearing the other vacuum—with the goggles over his glasses, and he was a bit worried about how Fiddleford had positioned his.

"Ready," Dipper said, a tad less certainly. What if he couldn't do it today? What if he'd never actually been able to do it last night and the whole thing really had been a dream?

But Fiddleford flipped the accelerator's power on, stepped back, and said, "All right! Do your thing!"

"Okay." Dipper stared straight at the machine, and—eugh—thought about degloving his body from his soul, peeling out of his skin fingers first.

This was only the second time he'd left his body deliberately. He'd observed in the past that the mindscape was strangely gray and still compared to the real world—but he'd never realized just how stark and swift the change was, like all the color and warmth had been abruptly sucked from reality. He shivered.

Ford inhaled sharply. Fiddleford stumbled back against the nearest table and yelped, "Flipping flapjacks!"

"You can both still see me?" Dipper said. "Can you hear me, too?"

"Loud and clear," Ford said.

"Like the voices of the dead." Fiddleford shuddered. "Welp, let's get this over with. I don't like all this ghost business. It ain't natural."

Ford gave him an amused look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about what's 'natural'? Didn't the engineering club vote you 'most likely to build a robot that flies in the face of God'?"

"You hush! There's nothing unnatural about iron, electromagnetism, and flamethrowers."

Dipper studied his body's face, its eyes pointed blankly toward the particle accelerator. "Well, I'm looking at the experiment, but I'm definitely not thinking about it. I think that's half of the paradox?"

"That's right," Fiddleford said. "Now, you just—float yerself on over to the other side of the accelerator, and think about it without looking at it."

"Right." Dipper positioned himself directly across the accelerator from his body, shut his eyes, and tried to think experimental thoughts. He didn't know much about Dontium besides what Ford had written about it in Journal 3—that it was inert when you were looking at it and radioactive when you weren't—so, if the miniature particle accelerator generated any, would he get blasted with radiation? Or was his body staring at the accelerator enough to keep it inert? But no—it was supposed to fill up the jug Ford was holding, right? Ford was observing it. Dipper tried to imagine what must be happening inside the accelerator; how did it work, would particles spontaneously generate in the tubes? Maybe they circled around until they fell into the hose to the jug...

He heard Ford gasp. "Fiddleford, look at this— Don't listen to me Dipper, just keep—keep thinking whatever you were thinking!"

"Is it working?"

"It was! Don't let us distract you."

Dipper tried to ignore the sound of Fiddleford running over to Ford, and started humming to drown out their hushed conversation. That was good, right? It meant the experiment was working. Keep thinking about that—experiment. Experiment. Expeeeriment. ... He wondered if trying to do the experiment by putting himself and Tyrone on either side of the accelerator would have worked, or if it had to be Dipper's soul and his body—

"Hot diggety!" Fiddleford shouted. "We've reached critical mass!"

"What does that mean, is it bad?" Dipper opened one eye a crack, trying to squint enough that he couldn't see the particle accelerator. "Is it gonna explode?"

Ford explained, "It means we've generated enough Dontium that it can sustain its own existence. Now, even if you get distracted, what we've already generated will remain. It can only go up from here."

"Wow," Dipper said. "That only took, what, a couple of minutes?"

"Less than that! During our last attempt, we tried for hours without reaching critical mass," Ford said. "Your idea was right on the money. Excellent work, Dipper."

Dipper grinned. After all that anxiety, it was almost a letdown how easy it was, but the coolness factor made up for it. He could just imagine the conversations the first week of high school: What did I do over summer break? Oh, nothing much. Just synthesized a new element. To fuel a weapon custom-designed to kill an immortal chaos god. And did I mention I was a ghost at the time? It didn't quite top last summer's adventures, but...

Then something went wrong.

There was a noise halfway between the electric buzz of a tesla coil and the rip of Velcro being torn apart. A stench like burning hair filled the air. A line of shifting colorful light began worming its way out of the center of the particle accelerator and up into the air.

"Oh no. Ohhh no!" Fiddleford grabbed his head. "The micro-rips! The threadbare fabric of reality! Our experiment put too much of a strain on it! We tore straight through!" One foot bounced agitatedly, "Ohhh, I knew I shoulda run some calculations before substituting in Dipper for you and Stanley."

Dipper gasped as the line of light began to agonizingly stretch open wider. Reality began seeping over its edges and dripping through into the kaleidoscopic miasma beyond. It developed a second horizontal rip across its middle as reality stretched beyond endurance in multiple directions. "What—is that?" He was afraid he knew.

"A dimensional rift," Fiddleford said.

"The Nightmare Realm," said Ford.

The last frayed thread holding reality together snapped apart, and the rift tore open wide, fully exposing the Earth to the roaring roiling chaos beyond. 

They screamed.

"Hello?" A giant set of dentures with stubby arms and legs leaned through the rift. "Oh hey! Aren't you the guys that killed Bill?"

They screamed again.

"Is screaming how humans say hi?" the monster asked. "I'm Teeth. Aaah!" He turned toward Ford. "Hey! Fingers! Lookin' less electrocuted than the last time I saw you—"

Ford socked Teeth in the incisor, knocking him back through the rift. "Back, you! You and your 'friends' are not welcome in this dimension!"

"Ow. What the heck, man."

Fiddleford shouted, "Don't stop observing the Dontium!" He bounded across the room on all four to scoop up the milk jug and stare at it. 

Ford nearly toppled through the rift, and had to grab onto the miniature particle accelerator as the heaviest nearby object to anchor himself. The rift sucked on reality like a vacuum, and the longer it was open the more powerful it grew.

Over the roar of the rift, Dipper yelled "What do we do?!"

"We have to seal it! Before it sucks all of Gravity Falls into the Nightmare Realm!"

"How?!"

Last summer, the instant Bill had no longer been around to maintain the dimensional rift, it had also sucked reality into it, starting with everything that properly belonged in the Nightmare Realm; but then it had also quickly sealed itself back shut. On the other hand, this rift was just opening wider and wider. Maybe it wasn't like the rift Bill had used to enter Gravity Falls, then? Maybe it was structured more like the wormholes that had been left behind after Weirdmageddon—

"I've got it!" Ford picked up Dipper's body—trying not to shudder at how lifeless it felt—and unzipped his backpack. "Is the alien adhesive grenade still in here?"

"It should be! Let me see." Dipper floated over to peer into his backpack.

The rift was already strong enough to drag at Ford's clothing. The lightest objects in the room lifted into the air and were sucked through. Papers. Pencils. Coffee mugs. Dipper's soul.

He screamed. "GRUNKLE FORD!"

"Dipper!" Ford grabbed for Dipper's ankle, but his hand passed right through. Ford's blood ran cold as Dipper tumbled head over heels into the Nightmare Realm.

"Look at that," Teeth said, watching Dipper soar by. "Dinner delivery."

There was no difference between the mindscape and reality in the Nightmare Realm, if Ford followed Dipper  through he'd be able to get a grip on Dipper there. But how would he carry Dipper back to Earth without him melting through Ford's grasp the moment they were through the rift? Didn't matter, grab Dipper first, then figure it out—

Fiddleford shoved the jug of Dontium in Ford's hands as he ran past. "Watch over this!"

"What—!"

Fiddleford jumped into the Nightmare Realm, the end of a long extension cord tied around his waist. He stretched out the hose of his ghost vacuum and flipped a switch, and with a yelp Dipper's soul was sucked inside. Ford gasped in relief.

Trying to keep as much of his attention on the potentially-radioactive jug as possible, Ford reeled Fiddleford back in, shoved the jug in his hands, and dug into Dipper's backpack again until he found the alien adhesive grenade. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the rift. "Duck!"

He shielded Dipper's body and Fiddleford shielded the Dontium jug as the grenade exploded. Even so, the force of it blew aside everything within ten feet of the rift and sent both of them sprawling. When Ford glanced back over his shoulder, the adhesive had gummed up the opening of the rift like a popped glowing magenta bubblegum bubble; and as he watched, it sucked the opening shut. In a few seconds the air was still and quiet, and the only sign the rift had ever existed was an immense, jagged vertical line in the air around which the light refracted wrong.

Fiddleford gingerly got back to his knees, then pulled off his glasses and pushed up his goggles. One of the lenses had been crushed, and the glasses' frame was bent beyond repair.

Ford heaved a long, heavy sigh. "A bit too familiar, wasn't it?"

Fiddleford blinked at him. "Wasn't what?"

"The—reeling you in from the Nightmare Realm?" Ford said. At Fiddleford's blank look, Ford said, "The portal test?"

"Oh." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I... still don't remember it too clearly."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Ford's stomach churned with guilt as he looked away from Fiddleford. Over thirty years late was too late to apologize, wasn't it? (Over the past year he'd wondered, again and again; and again and again he'd decided that it was.) "Thank you for saving—" He gasped, "Dipper!"

"Oh, right!" Fiddleford took off his vacuum, dropped it on the floor, and unzipped its bag. The ghosts of a Northwest in a buckskin coat and a confused-looking hippie escaped into the air. "Hey," Fiddleford barked. "You get back here!" He raised the vacuum's hose and flipped its switch. He caught the hippie, but as soon as she was sucked in she flew out the unzipped bag and off to freedom again. Fiddleford lowered the hose and shook a fist at the retreating spirits. "I'll get you ectoplasmic varmints, just you wait!"

Ford knelt on the floor and held the bag open wider. Dipper floated out, arms crossed tight and shivering. "So... so cold... and dark... and really, really dusty."

"Let's get you back where you belong."

Ford held up Dipper's body as he lay back down in it. He could see the moment color flooded back into Dipper's cheeks and his eyes focused again. Dipper groaned.

Ford said, "You're never doing that again."

"I am never doing that again," Dipper said.

"We can't do that again," Fiddleford said. "The fabric of reality in this town is too unstable to handle another paradoxical physics experiment that powerful! We'd rip open another rift to the Nightmare Realm!"

"And we just tossed away all of our remaining alien adhesive," Ford sighed. It left Gravity Falls vulnerable if any more rips formed. Sometime soon he'd have to go back to the alien crash site and see if there was any more adhesive he could scrounge up; but even if he did, they couldn't risk wasting more of it like this.

"But did we get what we needed?" Dipper asked.

Fiddleford held up the milk jug of Dontium and shook it. It had a strange shifting color, wavering between cyan and orange depending on the lighting. "Looks like we got about three-fourths of a gallon," Fiddleford said.

"It's only enough to fully power one shot," Ford said. "But... one shot is all it'll take to destroy Bill." His stomach flipped nervously as he said it. He'd been anxious every other time he'd prepared to kill Bill, but that had always been because he'd been preparing to battle for the fate of the universe with a godlike monster who could easily kill him or worse. For the first time, he was preparing to execute a defenseless prisoner, and he didn't know whether it would make the universe any safer.

For half the summer he'd hoped Bill was harmless. Now he wished he had proof that Bill wasn't, so that he could lay his conscience to rest.

Dipper looked as uncomfortable as Ford felt; but when he caught Ford's gaze, he hardened his expression and nodded. Ford nodded back.

"WOOHOO!" Fiddleford leaped his full height straight up, making Ford and Dipper start. "We done it! YAHOO!" He waved his hat around ecstatically, doing a little jig in place. "YIPPEE! HIP HIP HURRrr—hey, how come you fellers ain't celebrating?"

Ford didn't know how to explain without making Fiddleford worry he was at risk of falling under Bill's spell again. "We'll celebrate when he's dead."

####

"Who was at the door?" 8 Ball shouted. When he didn't get a response, he paused his game. "Teeth?"

Teeth waddled into the game room. His face was completely plastered shut with some kind of glowing purple glue.

Pyronica cracked up and Paci-Fire chuckled darkly. 8 Ball sighed, "What'd you get into, you idiot?"

Teeth waved his hands emphatically.

"All right, okay." 8 Ball stood and stretched. "Does anyone have the number of that lamp guy Bill used to hook up with?"

Half an hour later, having lured over Lava Lamp Guy with the false promise of ping pong pool and illicit liquids, they cornered him in a bathroom, with Zanthar sitting in the tub restraining him while Paci-Fire struggled to hold his face still.

"Please!" Lava Lamp Guy screamed. "Let me go! I'll do anything you want! My neurologist said I can't take much more of this!"

"Cease your complaints," Paci-Fire said, as 8 Ball took off Lava Lamp Guy's bowler. "You shall not dissuade us. We do this because we have no choice in the matter."

"Why not?!"

"Because none of us feel like making the trip to a dimension with a drugstore."

8 Ball stuck a soup ladle into the open top of Lava Lamp Guy's head and fished around until he got a scoop of the red goo floating around in the thinner orange liquid. Lava Lamp Guy howled in agony. Zanthar heaved a weary sigh.

8 Ball carried the ladle over to where Teeth was sitting on the toilet lid kicking his feet. "Here you go, bud."

Teeth clapped his hands, grabbed an oversized toothbrush, and held it out for 8 Ball to pour the goop on. He scrubbed his teeth until the goop dissolved the adhesive. "Whew!" He stretched his jaw a few times, then jumped to his feet. "Thanks! I was worried I was gonna miss karaoke night." He looked in the sink mirror to scrub off the remaining scraps of adhesive.

8 Ball put Lava Lamp Guy's hat back on. Lava Lamp Guy groaned, "I think I forgot my third husband."

"You've only been married twice," Hectorgon lied.

"Oh." Confused, Lava Lamp Guy said, "Alright."

Teeth muttered, "Blech, divorce memories." He grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to clear out the taste.

"So what happened?" Kryptos asked. He was hovering in the doorway beside Pyronica.

"I'unno. I think the Dimension 46ers were messing around with their portal or something? They opened up a portal here."

"What? Uh-uh," Pyronica said. "It had to be some other dimension. We just invaded them, why would they open the portal again?"

"No no, that sounds like humans to me," Kryptos said. "If one of them pushes a button and immediately dies, the guy standing next to him will go, 'I wonder if it does that every time.' I've seen them do it."

"It was definitely them, I saw that local contractor Bill recruited for the portal who went nuts. Fingers or whoever."

8 Ball groaned. "You mean the guy that invaded the Quadrangle and tried to kill everybody?"

"Yeah. That guy. He told me I wasn't welcome on Earth and chucked a glue bomb in my face. I was like, well alright, buddy, I'm not the one who opened up a portal in your house, you could have just stayed home instead of ruining my day," Teeth said. "I didn't really say that to him. I thought it."

"So now the humans are invading us." Pyronica threw her hands in the air. "Great! This is just terrific! Bill teaches them how to make their own portals, they follow us home, and now we're about to have a pest problem that knows how to use tools! How long is it until this whole place is crawling with humans?! I'm going househunting, how many rooms should I look for? 8 Ball?"

"I'm in."

"Teeth?"

Teeth sighed, but said, "Yeah. The neighborhood's going downhill. Especially if we're gonna have a pest problem."

"Big Z?"

Zanthar gave a thumbs up.

Pyronica looked at Paci-Fire. He averted his gaze. Pyronica said, "Paci?"

Sullenly, he said, "We should ask Keyhole's opinion as well."

She laughed in disbelief. Nobody cared about Keyhole's opinion, he went with whatever everyone else went with. Appealing to Keyhole was just a delaying tactic. "Fine, sure. We'll get Keyhole's opinion."

"I'm not going," Hectorgon said, crossing his arms.

Relieved, Kryptos said, "Yeah. Me neither."

"You don't have to," Pyronica snapped. "You two and Morph can wait for Bill to come back from the dead as long as you want. But the rest of us are leaving."

Kryptos tilted toward the hall, gesturing for Hectorgon to follow him away from the others. "How long do you think we can hold this place without the outerplanars?" The Quadrangle was all that remained of Bill's turf. Without Bill's energy boosting them, none of the shapes were particularly powerful. They'd always depended upon the other Henchmaniacs to guard Bill's stronghold, the heavy-hitters like Zanthar and Pyronica. Even Bill preferred to let them fight his battles when he could; Bill's energy was much vaster, but less renewable.

Hectorgon grimaced uncertainly. "We've gotta think of something fast."

####

Dipper stared at the jug in his lap, ensuring it didn't turn radioactive before they got home. Bill practically seemed to have a radar for Ford—and on top of that, could see through walls—but as far as he cared Dipper may as well have not even existed; so they'd decided that Ford would go in the main door to ensure Bill's attention was turned away while Dipper went through the gift shop and took the elevator down to Ford's study. Ford had told Dipper where to find a lead locker that would keep the Dontium contained until Ford could use it to refuel the Quantum Destabilizer; all he had to do was put it in and stare through the crack until he'd slammed the door shut.

And once they'd decided on that, the drive home had fallen deathly silent.

As the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees, Dipper asked, "We're doing the right thing, right?" His voice was quiet. "I hate him, but—we owe him our lives. And there's that prophecy..."

"Lives can't be owed," Ford said. "Yesterday he may have saved us, but tomorrow he would still destroy our world in a heartbeat. We can be grateful to be alive—but we can't let that stop us."

"So, we're doing the right thing?"

Ford was silent for much longer than Dipper would have liked. "I hope so."

####

(We're moving toward some important stuff!! Hope y'all enjoyed and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this week's chapter!)

[ethereal-night-fairy]

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

This dark vampire poly!141 x hostage!reader idea is based off a comment I got on one of my works on Ao3 I would love to tag them if they were on Tumblr but I don't think they are.

Comment : Oh I'd love a vampire au! An idea for it if you are open to consideration: the 141 have been around for centuries, John pretty much turned all of them starting with Simon, then with Johnny, and then with Gaz being the youngest (although Gaz is still over a century old). Reader, of course, is human, moving to a new town to start over completely and ends up running into one of them. And they just know that reader is the missing piece that they had been looking for--the one that is the last to be bound to them. Because for an immortal creature it only makes sense that they would, in even just the name of species preservation, have multiple mates dictated by fate, instinct, or what have you :)

This sounds like a great premise for a vampire au. Also what if Knight price was turned in the medieval ages by a vampire lord he was tasked to kill and ended up being turned as he killed the last of the vampire kin for the English king. He fled obviously when he realised what happened letting his knights think he was killed in battle.

-

Time passes and he doesn't age, he watched his loved ones from a distance growing old and having children before ultimately passing away. It pains him that he lives like an animal hunting for blood in the forest unable to live a normal life.

But he still wishes to do good, to be good . So as his powers build and the sun doesn't scorch his skin anymore. He joins the army century after century to regain some sense of humanity. (That's a horrible way to regain humanity if I'm honest, though in his defence he fell for the propaganda and thought he was doing a good thing.) But the bloodlust becomes so much worse the more he kills. The more blood stains his hands the more he longs for the chaos and violence.

He gathers companions along the way. Men like him that were on the brink of death but had so much to live for. He couldn't let them die he just couldn't! By the 21st century he had his little taskforce. His boys, his lovers, his family but someting was missing. What could it be? They lived comfortably with the wealth they had accumulated. They had their buffet layed out for them on the battlefield. What more could they want?

But something was out of place. Even with his lovers, life was becoming bleak when all they saw was violence and bloodshed. That was until they found a delicate little hostage in their capture or kill mission. Scared little thing you were tucked away in the corner of a bedroom, chained to the wall. You'd do nicely as their pet. They bet your blood tastes just as sweet as your tears.

Their reply: Oh I love it! Johnny being a warrior that at the Battle of Culloden, fighting for Scottish independence from the British, happens to die while fighting an infuriating man. Said infuriating man, dying by the Scottsmans hand, just so happens to be lieutenant Simon. Price having already planned to watch over Simon (he said he wouldn't get attached) yet he can't help but to turn Johnny too. Neither are happy at first, they have their differences, but they can't deny the bond and love that forms. Then the three of them meet Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick in world war ii. So bright and full of life, passionate about fighting for his country and ending Nazi regime. The man runs right into a fight, saving dozens upon dozens of men, and the three know they can't let him remain dead when the inevitable comes. And Gaz, well, he keeps that light within him because at least now he can make sure that the war to end all wars wasn't done in vain.

I just wanted to show off their ideas too since it's what inspired my little snippet. I not sure if I'll turn this into a actual thing though.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[perpetual-fandom-brainrot]

Some CoD Hybrid Reader Drabbles

Hybrid reader stuff, if it's not your taste I recommend clicking off and finding something better to read (*cough cough* Temporary Relocation *cough cough*)

TW: Descriptions of violence and gore

Other than that mostly just fluff

I've gone down a rabbit hole (two kinds) and I can't help but think about some concepts I want to see interacting with this trope like...

If reader was a bunny hybrid, separated from their fluffle so just aimlessly wandering around. Used to having other bunny hybrids around to help with grooming/cleaning so you don't entirely know how to do that, either, at least not effectively. I imagine you wouldn't be found by the 141 while they're on duty, but rather one of them (or their family members) would find you while on leave. They'd take you in and take care of you, and start noticing just how good of a fight or flight system you have. Maybe with some good training, you'd make a good soldier...

If reader was a dog/wolf hybrid, kidnapped owned by some of the not necessarily best people in the world since only being a pup. In fact, these people end up being wrapped up in activities that the 141 ends up sticking their noses- and barrels- into. As they're stalking around the building where you're kept, making sure all of the targets are taken care of, they train their guns on you for a moment. It's when you back up quietly, whimpering with a raw and dehydrated throat, that they realize you aren't a threat. They unlock your prison kennel and tell you to move it before you're definitely a liability (whoever dictates this choice gets mega whooping from their higher-ups later). When they run into you again on the way out, finishing ripping out the esophagus of another target who would've otherwise interfered with exfil, that you're offered a position as a soldier. And you accept.

If reader was a cat hybrid who spent their time wandering streets, taking bites of abandoned food and finishing drinks long forgotten in order to survive, only for that very town to be the one Ghost and Soap arrive in while fleeing from Graves. You're crouched behind a dumpster when Graves is rounding up the cops, and even though you're bringing claws to a gunfight you can't stand to see him acting as judge, jury, and executioner. You find a Shadow nearby, not expecting anyone in their previous path to still be alive, and silently get their weapons off of them. You wait for your moment, using your intricate knowledge of the alleyways and buildings and rooftops to stay undetected, taking out the Shadows around Graves. You take an angle at Graves himself, jumping from a rooftop and landing on his shoulders, pulling his hair until he's stumbling backwards and you both fall into the fountain. You grab a beer bottle off of it and bash it directly over his head, making sure it shatters and knocks him unconscious. You scurry off, disappearing into the night before Soap has a chance to get down and speak to you, or even process what he just watched.

[strewwwberry]

(Edit: Life loop svsss au)

BABEZ... You are making my brain is working overtime

If you are saying what I think you're saying then I love it

Then I have an idea

Shen yuan was/is the first "version" of Shen to exist in pidw but something kept messing up his fate thus variations of him tried instead

Shen Yi, Shen Er, Shen San, Shen Si, Shen Wu, Shen Liu, Shen Qi, Shen Ba

Until we get to

Shen Jiu who despite living the longest still died.....

Shen "Yuan" was born an unfortunate child in world 169423-1 also known as PIDW official version 1

He was born in a cruel world as an unwanted child to be sold to slave traders at merely 4 years of age

He lived and grew

Alone

He picked the name yuan himself as to feel less like an object

He chose it after having overheard a daoist priest muttering fundamental beliefs and one of those following symbolism of "the origin" or "the source of all things", yuánqì, meaning "the one"

He wanted to be the something, to be the one

But as time went on his fate did not falter in it's torture

He went from a slave traders pet, to owned by a filthy man who would experiment on him and violate in all ways possible

He was a toy for this man, but one day he had enough and stabbed him right through the heart over and over until not even a miracle could save him, he plucked out the man's eyes, and still intact organs, some food and water, and set a fire on the man's corpse and ran out the small building, watching and waiting until he was sure that only ashes remained

He sold the organs to whoever was strange or smart enough to want, keeping only one of the man's eyes as a souvenir of his survival

Yet his fate was not yet done with him, as he travelled he slowly lost food, water, money, until everything was gone

no one dared let him into their homes for he was a man with scars a plenty and in their minds he looked monstrous

hair messily cut only barely long enough to pass as a criminal gone from captivity for a while

Scars across his face and only one eye semi- functional, whilst his other, right eye, remains completely blinded

Scars covered his chest, legs, hands, feet, arms, neck, face, everywhere

It's a miracle he survived some say, however he knows why

He survived as his only seemingly lucky acquirement in this world is his affinity for cultivation, in which he would attempt to culminate yet only ever get a high enough cultivation to not die from excessive injury

Something his last owner abused greatly

He walked for miles until reaching a border

He did not care what was past it so he crossed mindlessly and tired yet still with a bare sprinkle of hope...

He was in the demonic realm

It was cold, ice cold, the northern region perhaps

He walked and walked yet not even a demon tried to end him,

Ah right, how could he forget, they're at war at this moment with the sourthern region

Ahh

He's alone

Still

Always alone

He lies in the icey snow

And Shen Yuan dies, at the young age of only 17

But that shouldn't happen.

It cant happen

He isn't suppose to die yet

No

In a panic his soul enters a state of everywhere and nowhere, until his body is thrust back into his own again, a child again but slightly crueler this time

Slightly less giving

Slightly less patient

Slightly less understanding

Shen Yi is born, again

But he fails to survive as well

And so this process continues Shen Er, Shen San etc etc, all slightly crueler and more unforgiving then the last

All the way up until the soul returns again and Shen Jiu is born

He lives the longest by far

But still his fate falls into the hands of another and another Shen dies again for the tenth time

It's running out of ideas, he was always naturally intelligent and intuitive, plus growing on the streets always gives you some street smarts, yet no matter how much crueler, brutal and unforgiving he was made

It was never enough to save him

This time, Shen is born anew, in a new world, a foreign world

A world where his name is returned to him

Shen Yuan is born for an 11th time into a rich family in a still cruel world, just in a situation where survival is more likely

In a world were his needs are met and luxury is within reach

Yet something was let out of the equation

An unaccounted variable

Karma

His karma over his last ten lives is high, and because of this, despite being born into riches, his health is abissmal with both cystic fibrosis and congenital heart disease, and his parents look upon him in disdain as a sinkhole to their hard earned money and his loving siblings mourn him as he lay still alive with anguish and pity

His mind has the potential for greatness but his desire is long gone

This Shen lives his life as a shut in before dying in his early 20’s from food poisoning, ammusing honestly, he lived much longer then expected and died in an unexpected way as well

It has an idea though, His previous life Shen Jiu lived a long time and his just lost life he was a shut in cursing books, he wouldn't notice if a few memories of obsessively adoring yet hating on a novel slipt in there no?

And perhaps instead of resetting his life again, we should cut into the middle of his previous life, a sort of returning soul transmigrater

And thus his soul is regressed in time again back into his orginal world, at a time when his previous life had accomplished being a peak Lord and bringing in his youngest disciple luo binghe, with no knowledge of this being his orginal world, no knowledge of this being his body, no knowledge of his hatred upon simply himself in a different time

He feels like an imposter in a body that belong to him.

His soul recognizes and remembers everything but Shen Yuan Never will,

This Shen lives

But he will never know the scars his heart and soul carries for he will never remember the lives he's lived

He will live unknowingly in his own body

World 169423-12

Success

-> 2 3

With Shen Yuan's name Yuan being a homophone for 原 yuán as in "original" (example given: the word 原创 yuánchuàng aka "original (creative) work"), and Shen Jiu's name meaning the number nine... It's bringing to mind some interesting questions about the supposed number of Shens separating the two

[your-absent-father]

Children in writing: my personal pet peeves

Okay, some might know that I work as an elementary school aid, done it on and off since I was 19, so I have the credits lol. Last december I even got my trade school papers for it. I preface this this way bwcause I have worked with shitton of kids, and will in a future. My background also means that I am very quick to notice when people don't interact with kids that much.

Even the savant syndrome kid is still a kid

One thing that annoys the hell out of me is when the 8 year old smart kid character acts like a 32 year old with all the emotional cababilities it entails. Yes, some kids have an higher intelligence, emotional or otherwise, but in the core of them, they are a kid. They get temper tantrums, they are in awe of new discoveries, they love to play in their own way.

For example, the class I'm in now, we have a kid I will call James. James is raised by his grandparents and it shows in everything he does. He is an old soul, always getting striaght As and almost helping the adults in conflicts. James also giggles as I race with him during recess, he sulks like a kid after not getting what he wanted and laughs really hard at fart jokes. He is 8 even if he has an emotional intelligence of an older kid.

Children are sponges, in bad and good

Speaking of James, he is a great example of children being sponges. This 8 year old, he uses terms like "gosh darn it" or "welp, it is what it is", terms I could see his farmer grandpa using. When he is stressed, he poses like a 73 year old looking at a broken tracktor. You can see his grandpa in him clearly.

I want to say it because a lot of people only write like "I am bad because my dad was bad" characters, even though it isn't that simple moat of the time, and children being sponges could be used in so many different ways, and not just bad.

Kids knowing big words doesn't always mean they are smart

This adds into the "kids are sponges" segment. Lot of kids, especially now, pick up different words, some very difficult, but they themselves don't know what they mean. Just today I had to explain what a dictator meant to a kid talking about North Korea. (That is an other thing too I like to add: kids try to explain with their own understandkng of the world what things they don't understand are)

Children's are adults in progress

Thus is a thing that peeves me the most of all, because a lot of people think children are thing entire different entity than adults. I like to explain it in videogame logic, like as a kid you are doing the first levels and progressing trough. You still the same character at the core of it, you just leveled up and got new tricks up your sleeve. Children are humans, they aren't that difficult to comprehend.

kids with disabilities have presonalities

Omg I am such a passionate person towards this, especially because I am specialized in special ed. It annoys me in no end when a special ed kid's presonality is "ehh they are disabled?". Every single special ed kid I have been with have different personalities and likes and dislikes, if they can't show it to you themselves. I don't think I have met two disabled kids (nor adults) with same personalities, even if they have exact same disability.

In the class I am in now, James's best friend is this kid named Jackie. I don't know Jackie's diagnosis but she can't walk straight, and uses multiple walking aids when her legs hurt too bad. She can't talk very well, struggling with her speak. Still, those things weren't the first thing I'd use to describe her. I'd describe her as a dramaqueen, always ready to complain about something, i'd describe her as a sporty, always running after her friends, even if she is much slower than others. I'd describe her as kindhearted, and clingy as she is always ready for a hug. Her disability is n intergal part of her but not everything.

I could complain about this all day. I have worked with kids and adults with disabilities and they have all been do different from each other (like able bodied people). Maybe another post lol.

Okay rant over.

Tldr: Chldren are humans too. Lol

[tossawary]

I do like time travel fics for a variety of reasons. It can be fun to see a "perfect run" fix-it fic running through the canon storyline again. There is a little suspension of disbelief required for some of them, because at some point, the little changes for the better or big tragedies averted should start to mess with the world. Very good time travel fics take this Butterfly Effect into account.

It is VERY fun to think about time-traveling characters who immediately break the plot, because they fail to or don't even try to keep things on a certain track. I love seeing authors use this jumping point to explore entirely new directions for canon. It's off-roading time!!!

Some characters are happy to work within the systems of their worlds. They'll put up with the little indignities of having do to things again and are able to act their way through a redo. (And apparently have incredibly good memories, like, damn.) The cost of keeping things roughly the same is something that they're willing to pay in order to reap specific benefits at the end of the journey.

Other characters would prefer to break the systems of their worlds. They have no patience to play by someone else's rules if they have the power to do otherwise. They may think that the world is broken as it is and needs to be changed. They may be unable to let certain injustices happen again no matter the cost to their ability to predict the future. (I admit, I have a preference for this, because I think it's more interesting, and if the protagonist is a heroic figure, I like the idea that every single life is worth trying to save if you can try.)

Anyway, this is all to say that I just read the last 100 chapters of "Naruto" and apparently Naruto was the only person keeping Sasuke from following through on his unhinged and vague supervillain plans at the end there. If you sent Sasuke back into the past, let's say from a battle with Kaguya going poorly back to the Uchiha massacre or something, and he retains his adult body or any of his abilities (full Sharingan + Rinnegan)? I cannot see that Sasuke trying to give Konoha a shot again. I don't think he trusts like that anymore.

I think he would immediately 1) kill Itachi if Itachi forces him to do it and he can't convince Itachi to join his side, 2) kill Danzo and any ROOT agents who get in his way, (2.5) kill Zetsu and Madara if he can find and catch them, and also Obito if Obito forces him,) 3) kill or try to kill the Third Hokage, and potentially 4) try to declare himself the new Fifth Hokage. Winning a lot of these fights just by taking eeeeeverybody by surprise. Or something like that, you know? I think he'd at least try to immediately do some reckless revenge murder.

If time-traveling Sasuke is stuck in his child body for a redo, and can't set himself up as the new dictator of Konoha or the new shared enemy of the shinobi world or whatever, then I think that he might just run off and join Orochimaru again. I think he would make early deals with Orochimaru for the relative freedom that offers.

Like, Sasuke just does not strike me as a particularly stable person who gives a shit about maintaining a comfortable life for everyone around him. He does not care about Konoha's image. He does not want to settle complacently into a comfortable life within this corrupt state. I think he'd rather drag out the rot and set everything on fire than sit through the frustrating false civility of politics or go to school again, if he had any choice in the matter.

A time-traveling Sasuke would not behave like a time-traveling Naruto or Sakura! So, if I had to do a time-traveling Sasuke, I'd probably reach for the "break-it" rather than the "fix-it". Konoha struggles to deal with this new, mysterious, Rinnegan-wielding Uchiha who appeared out of the middle of an incomplete massacre, just killed the Hokage, and declared himself the new one, completing the Uchiha coup at the eleventh hour. (People are saying he looks like Uchiha Izuna come back to life, apparently???) Oh, shit, someone secretly go get Tsunade and Jiraiya right now, fuck.

[eeb-rody]

Tfone spoilers

Okay but imagine IMAGINE you're d-16 and your (boyfriend) best friend routinely drags you both into extreme danger even when you explicitly state you want no part in it (to prove a point? For fun? Both?? It's unclear) and on one of these occasions you find out that the authority figure you trusted most mutilated you (and everyone you love) at birth in an effort to create a servile underclass and secure power. Oh and you now have guns for hands sometimes.

As soon as you express anger at this intense betrayal, the One Guy who's supposed to be on your side (the guy responsible for this whole excursion by the way) starts looking at you like you're crazy. It's fine. Not like you've given this guy leeway for every insane stunt he's pulled for the last however long. Whatever.

You're captured by some guys playing commando in a rotting fortress of some kind, they won't help you but they seem to respect strength, lucky for you your body was recently turned into a weapon. You beat the shit out of the guy in charge (he's into it???) because you're angry and he's an asshole and maybe a display of strength will get these freaks to respect you enough to hear you out. Whatever your friend was thinking about you earlier just solidified.

You get kidnapped by a big spider.

Next you're handcuffed On Your Knees in front of the worst guy on the planet. He mocks you, he tortures you, he admits to all of his crimes and laughs in your face about it. You've gotta fucking kill this guy.

The building you're in gets hit by a flying train.

Finally FINALLY you've got this shithead on the run, everyone knows what he did, they probably want him dead just as bad as you do. He's cowering, he's begging, but earlier he was carving graffiti into your chest in front of a live audience so you're not feeling particularly receptive.

And then your impulsive shithead Best Friend shows up and starts talking about building a better world and how killing this evil motherfucker sets a bad precedent. You have thus far shown your friend infinite patience even in the face of severe consequences, his actions have resulted in you being hurt and changed and hurt again and now he wants to talk about the merits of reigning yourself in???

Nuh uh, you're killing this guy, your friend will be mad at you for a while but hopefully he'll understand that you ARE making the world better by killing a dictator who stunts the growth of his own people in order to make slaves of them.

Your best friend in the world sacrifices his life to save this evil piece of shit.

That's what was most important to him in the end. You realize that apparently being morally pure was his priority, nevermind you, nevermind the crimes done against your people, nevermind his "better world". You're fucking done. If he can't just trust you on this after everything he put you through- You let him fall into a big hole.

Only that's not the end of it. After you tear the "king" in half and start blasting at his tacky art deco statues, your friend rises from the pit he just fell into. He's Jesus now I guess and he uses his god powers to kick the shit out of you. He compares you to the man who mutilated you both as children and betrayed your people. Apparently God agrees with him.

My point is, this movie is just Megatron's terrible horrible no good very bad day and I think killing sentinel prime was good and made sense to do.

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

We need facts about YANDERE CREEPYPASTA ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU!!! Only if you want to and take your time. I just got really excited hearing this as I love zombie movies

Something Short (Zombie AU Introduction)

Author's Note: I've had this AU idea for months, but I just never got to it.

Warnings: Murder, Torture, Sexual Harrasment, Kidnapping, Human Trafficking (Mentions), Mental Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Human Experiments, Gore, Physical Abuse, Manipulation, Dehumanization, Sadism, Being Held To Extremely High Standards, Dictatorship, And Obession

Ok, so. I picture the virus that caused the whole outbreak to be a mixture between the walking dead zombies, and the Train to Busan zombies, you know.

Now, you're pretty much one of the few who survived the outbreak. You and your two brothers are wondering around looking for a permanent place of residence. You found one society, but it was destroyed soon after you got there.

In this AU, EJ is the leader of a cannibalistic city. They live in a heavily fortified town somewhere in Pennsylvania. EJ is the doctor and leader of this colony. One day you and your brothers get kidnapped by a few of their members, and you only survived because EJ took an interest in you. Your brothers were kept alive as a way to keep you in line, but you knew they were barely surviving.

One day, your brothers escaped, leaving you behind. Once you escape, your main motivation is reuniting with your brothers, or at least find out what happened to them.

You were trapped with EJ for about 8 months, and those months were hell. Unlike my other AUs and Canon were EJ puts up a fake mask of kindness and care, Zombie AU EJ is heartless right off the bat. It's the end of the world, you either do what he tells you, or you're tonight's dinner. So, you're now labeled as his pet, even the other civilizations know about you, the poor pet of Cannubal King. You would constantly be a victim to his twisted experiments, but after each one he'd comfort you. His constant switched in personality and behavior is what makes you have a blurred perspective of him. In this AU, EJ is the one you're most terrified of, not the Proxies.

Now, the Proxies are opportunist. They are the people in the apocalypse to kill, kidnap and sell people as a way to make it buy. They're the most dangerous to look for because they're doing anything to survive. After 8 months past, you're able to escape. You end up wondering around for about 3 days before you find a little shed in the woods. When you get there, the shed is filled with a decent amount of food and water. However, as you inspect a small can, you're whacked in the head with a crow bar. When you wake up, three men are standing in front of you. They all discuss what their going to do to you before they agree to keep you. The Proxies are no stranger to keeping pets, but each one of them have died in someway, and you're just another replacement. Out of all the proxies though, Toby ends up becoming completely in love and obsessed with you, while Masky and Hoodie have a more possessive, sexual obsession with you.

Ben is the leader of a tech society. His society was able to keep electricity and tech running, making the most advanced civilization. However, getting in is extremely hard, and being a citizen there sucks. Ben is a dictator. If you hold no use to him, you're getting sent out into the heard. You disobey or betray him, sent to the Cannibal Colony. And not to mention, he had eyes and ears everywhere. Everyone in the city has to do their part if they want to stay, and if you don't, Oh well. Also, being one of Ben's favorites sucks even more. If he likes you for your skill or talent, he holds you to an impossible standard, and he enjoys to watch those people try so hard to meet it. No one is ever good enough for him, and he'll gladly torture those who can't obey. If he likes you for his sexual desires, you're running on his schedule. He expects you to do your own work, and fulfill his desires.

So, how do you two meet? You actually met back when you were with EJ. Just like in every AU, Jeff, EJ, and Ben are all really close friends, and EJ paid a visit to Ben in order to collect new Tech. There you caught Ben's eyes. Ben joked with EJ, saying that if he ever got bored of you, he'll gladly take you. He would never hide his stares, and always made his intentions with you painfully clear. He would never do anything to you physically since he likes and respects EJ to much, but he meant what he said when he told EJ that he'd take you if he didn't want you anymore.

LJ is a loner, but what he does is kinda weird. LJ stays in a abandoned fair ground. Rides and attractions are still up. Thanks to Ben, LJ is able to keep the tech working, and it often attracts wonders. LJ collects walkers and uses them for his circus shows. Anyone who stumbles upon his grounds are welcomed to stay. So, there's often people hanging out there because, 1, free food, 2, fun rides, 3, protection from walkers, and 4, entertainment. Once there's enough people, LJ holds a circus show. In this show, LJ summons a gas that drugs everyone for a short period of time. During this time, LJ takes some members of the audience, steals everyone's weapons, and ties them down to their chairs. Then, he uses the people he kidnapped for his twisted little show. Some people would be eaten by walkers, others would be forced to do extremely dangerous stunts, and the rest would just be brutally tortured. But at the end of the show, everyone in the tent would be dead. Now rinse and repeat, and that's what LJ does.

You and your brothers came across LJ's circus, but you guys left after a short while, not aware that you almost lost your lives.

Liu are kinda like mercenary. Liu gathers Intel for other groups, kidnaps people, and sells people just to get by. He's never in one place for too long, and many fall for his charm and charisma. His most consistent client is Ben, and Ben considers him a member of his city, even though Liu begs to differ.

How did you two meet? Jeff had dragged Liu to the proxies place due to the Proxies not keeping the end of a deal they made. You were watching from a top the stairwell when Liu noticed you. Liu is a hard-core sadist and doesn't really care about love or sex, violence his thing due to Sully's influence. But I can see him instantly falling for you. I feel like before Sully manifested, Liu was such a lover boy, but I can see him always being a blunt and manipulative bastard. Despite Jeff being Liu for support, Liu just stared at you as you sat ontop of the stares quietly, hoping that he would take his eyes off you.

Jeff is another wonderer. He could deadass care less about the apocalypse. He's normally by himself, in a cabin, either getting high or murdering people he comes across. He's deadass chilling.

Just like Ben, Jeff met you through EJ. Jeff doesn't really have any feelings towards you at the moment since he doesn't pay much attention to you, but that will slowly change.

QNow, last major plot idea. Since EJ is a doctor, and Ben is the tech guy, I can see the two of them looking for a cure to the virus. But, they often use random people as experiments for these. Back when you were with EJ, you were forced to witness them, and in one test, the person starting to develop sores and bumps all over their body, and it got so bad that they ended up swelling up like a balloon.

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | three

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: heavy injures, description of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, bad language, english not being my first language

They look at each other, adrenaline boiling and screaming in everyone's veins. Nimue doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand, but she feels everyone looking at her.

She feels naked, unprotected.

She blinks to get used to all that light. She had never seen so much light and it's beautiful.

Her senses come to life as she lets go of Rhysand's hand, which she had unknowingly been clinging to. She breathes over and over, trying to calm herself, but involuntarily she begins to tremble.

What has she done, what has she done, what has she done.

Father is going to kill her.

Amidst her frenzy of thoughts, Rhysand starts barking orders. She doesn't hear them well, only scattered words: healer, help, house.

Nimue glimpses a huge house to her right, and realizes she has brought them all to the courtyard of a mansion. Around her, everyone seems to spring into action.

The blonde female runs into the house, and seconds later comes out accompanied by another woman, shorter and slighter. She can't tell if she's fae or a creature. When Nimue and her lock eyes, it's like they're looking in a mirror. Both frown but decide to ignore each other.

For Nimue, it's as if everything is happening in slow motion: when she wants to realize, there's another person there, attending to the two injured Ilyrian. A glow emanates from her hands, its warmth reaching the princess's face. A healer, she supposes. She had never seen one.

She fights against her own panic, trying to get used to all the hustle and bustle and all those sounds. The birds flying above her head, the sunlight, the smell of the sea, the smell of pine and cedar, the voices around her, the poor Ilyrian screaming in pain...

She lowers her gaze, and without thinking, she starts speaking: "I can help."

Everyone looks at her again, judging her. They scan her from head to toe.

The two females who were thrown into the Cauldron are to her left, crying and hugging the one who was with Rhysand. Are they sisters? They looked so much alike...

"I can help," she repeats, this time firmer. She starts walking and sees how Rhysand prepares to attack her, "I can heal both of them, if you let me."

She analyzes the High Lord's face, and sees how little by little he is giving in. No one articulates any words, with a simple nod of the male's head, he grants her permission. He has nothing more to lose.

She kneels beside the one with the shattered wings and begins to do what she does with herself and the wounds she has ever suffered: with her magic, she grasps every little nerve ending, every small piece of skin. She pulls them and threads them, weaves them, joins them and separates them as if making a tapestry. So little by little, she shapes the wings of that Ilyrian. It's all pure instinct, what her nature dictates to her.

Father always told her she was his Goddess of Destruction, but Nimue knew deep down that she was capable of fixing, of healing, of bringin good to the world.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, she was piece by piece, shred by shred, joining and repairing the broken wings of that male. When she reached the bones, she simply imagined how they should have originally been: she ordered them to return to their form, to be soldered, and they obediently complied.

With a final grunt from the male, Nimue finished her work. But before she could get up, he grabbed her arm:

"Thank you," he whispered. Nimue is stunned. Thank you?

Had anyone ever thanked her for anything? Had anyone shown her gratitude?

No, her real doubt wasn't that. Had she ever done anything worthy of others' gratitude?

She swallowed her fear and terror, kneeling on the ground. She watched as the male limped away from her and enveloped the blonde female in a hug, how he squeezed her tightly as they both cried on each other's shoulders.

She was so, so lost. Where was she? What was happening around her?

"What a miracle of a girl," the healer whispered. Standing between Rhysand and the slighter female, the more aged-looking woman never took her eyes off her, "You are a Cauldron's blessing. When you're done, I'll need you to teach me how you do that. You are a–"

"Silence, Madja," Rhysand's voice resonates under her feet and in the very mountain, as if he had spoken those words inside Nimue's skull. She shrinks, intimidated. That's the power of a High Lord, "Now him. Heal him.”

She looks away from Rhysand and sets her gaze on the last remaining male.

Kneeling on the ground beneath him is a pool of his own blood and something that seems to be shadows, moving frenetically back and forth. She had never seen anything like it, those... beings, moving around the man. Nimue hears faint noises that she can't quite understand.

Behind her, she feels a presence moving. Rhysand looks down at her, those violet eyes so deep that Nimue feels hypnotized, "Don't just stand there gaping and do what you did to Cassian. Now. Or I'll cut off your head, you filthy Hybern rat."

She nods, and when she turns back to the winged male, he looks back at her. His amber eyes follow every small movement she makes: from the slight tremble of her lower lip to the way she raises her hand.

When he tries to speak, a trickle of blood runs down his lip to his chin, "Touch me and I'll cut off your hands, traitor."

Nimue trembles.

What the hell is she doing? Where has she gotten herself into?

Before she knows it, two streaks of water run down her cheeks. Is she crying? She had never cried before, what a strange sensation.

Her gaze travels to the hands of the male in front of her. He grips a beautiful black dagger, its tip directly aimed at Nimue's chest.

She swallows hard and, in a quick motion, grabs the arrow he has lodged in his chest and pulls it out with all her strength. She has been so fast that the male collapses forward, falling on top of her.

Rhysand and the healer, Madja, take care of getting him off her, and when Nimue tries to touch him again, the High Lord growls at her, "I told you to heal him, not to open up the damn hole in his chest further."

By pure instinct, Nimue snarls back at him, "I am healing him, you idiot. Back off."

Where she found the courage, she doesn't know. But they obey her, and she gets back to work.

The male is lying on his back on the ground, and Nimue places her hand on his chest, where the arrow was previously lodged. She begins to weave again, slowly, thread by thread.

Her gaze rests on his face, which, with closed eyes, lets out the occasional groan between his teeth.

Azriel feels like his chest is on fire. He feels the edges of the wound burning, he feels combustion from within. He takes gulps of air as he struggles not to lose consciousness, and blinded by the pain, he reaches his hand into the air and grabs onto the first thing he finds.

Nimue startles when his hand grabs her elbow, but she lets it be, the touch of his glove is a new, pleasant, and different sensation. She looks back at his face, and in a low voice, she speaks to him, "I'm almost done. Just making sure there's no trace of the poison that the arrow was coated with."

Azriel lets out a growl. He couldn't care less about the explanations. He just wants it to be over already.

The pain reaches the core of his bones and he opens his eyes abruptly, looking at the girl in front of him.

What is that?

Around her, he sees a thread, a small golden rope encircling her: it descends down her shoulders and arms, caresses her wrists and fingers, and wherever her skin meets his, he sees how the thread enters his own body.

Is he hallucinating?

Hasn't he had enough with the arrow between his ribs, that now the poison is making him hallucinate?

Behind the girl, he sees Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Mor, even damn Madja. He sees how in slow motion their brows furrow, he sees how they lean forward, looking puzzled at something that makes Azriel scared.

"What's going on?" he asks agitated. He tries to sit up on his elbows, but although the pain has already diminished, it still doesn't let him breathe properly, "What are you all looking at like that?"

Nimue furrows her brows as she pushes the man back to the ground so he stays still. She frowns, as she begins to feel something on her fingertips...

Something is not right.

The sensation travels up her forearm and shoulder, and settles in her chest. There inside, like a caged bird, that sensation starts tumbling, back and forth, faster and faster.

She removes her hand from the man's chest and he sits up in front of her, like a spring.

Azriel feels like he's going to explode. What has that witch put inside him? What kind of magic has she used on him?

"What the hell have you done to me?" he shouts. Azriel brings a hand to his chest when that pressure keeps growing.

Nimue mimics him, feeling like her chest is going to burst.

What has she done? Has she made a mistake? Perhaps her magic has betrayed her now for the first time...

She's hyperventilating, and when she feels that, indeed, she's going to explode like a firework, she looks into the eyes of the male in front of her.

And then everything suddenly calms down.

They stare at each other, stunned, not knowing what to say. Their breaths come together, equally fast and choppy.

And when their bodies stop vibrating and calm down, she feels it there.

There's something, something pulling her towards...

Towards him.

Azriel jumps to his feet, as if they hadn't just removed a poisoned arrow from his chest or he hadn't just lost liters and liters of blood. He finds Truth Teller in its usual place and with a practiced motion after years and years of battles, he grabs the girl by the collar of her clothes and lifts her up like a feather. The dagger rests comfortably against her neck, and she does nothing but look back at him, wide-eyed.

"Azriel!" Rhysand shouts. He ignores his High Lord, although every fiber of his being tells him to obey him, "Azriel, let her go!"

Then, Nimue comes to her senses. With a practiced movement, the winged male is kneeling on the ground again. The pretty black dagger is now in her hand, while with the other she pulls back his hair.

Azriel doesn't know when all this happened. He just knows that he blinked and now he's the prey. He clings to the girl's hand pulling his hair and tries to break free, but he can't understand how such a small woman can have the strength of a thousand men.

"Now I'm going to let go of you and you're not going to attack me. Understood?" She utters each word slowly, as if speaking in another language.

Nimue takes a step back, releasing the dagger, which falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Azriel stands up, and in a leap, he's next to Rhysand in an attack position.

Before Nimue, everyone present is on high alert. Some in attack position, others simply ready for whatever may happen.

The first to speak is Azriel, with the same accusatory tone as before, "What have you done to me? Undo it." He's trembling, and Nimue can't tell if it's from fear or from the pure rage she sees in his face.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't undo it, because she herself doesn't know what has happened.

What is that pulling her? What is that feeling in her chest, an anchor dragging her toward that winged male?

Everyone remains silent, looking at each other.

However, it's Rhysand who speaks first, the voice of reason in a desperate situation, "Let's all calm down."

Because he doesn't know if he's the only one who sees it, who feels it. That sudden change in the air. It smells like cedar and mist, like Azriel. But if he pays attention, he smells the sea salt and the sweetness of poison in the air. The scent that the girl in front of them emits. It's intoxicating and chilling at the same time. He couldn't say.

What he can say, however, is what he sees crystal clear. Azriel's essence, mixed with that of the unknown girl. He sees how both mingle in the air.

And then, Rhysand would swear that he stopped hearing Azriel's heartbeat next to him.

"My mate," his friend whispers. His face, a complete expression of surprise, something that the Shadow Singer rarely showed, "She's my mate.”

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @donttellthecats

A/N:I really hope you are all enjoying it. Every kind of support is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to those who already support it!! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know ����

[ferrstappen]

world champion/twins dad l Max Verstappen x reader

love note: HELLO LOVIESSSS! How are you all? it's been such a long time and for that I am so deeply sorry. To be honest it's not that I don't want to write because I've been dying to but for some reason inspiration just doesn't seem to come, but this request made me weak and awakened my mind a bit so I hope you enjoy it <3

i do feel up for little blurbs or scenarios if you want to come to my ask box and we can daydream endlessly <3

summary: the tragic chains of events before Luca Verstappen started feeling terrible. (dad!Max)

Mila & Luca Verstappen, age 6. Zandvoort.

Max warned Luca about the incoming rain the moment he noticed him shrugging off the official Red Bull rain jacket, favoring the tailored track jacket from the Dutch GP collection with his last name and dad’s number on the back, but of course his carbon copy complained, retaliating with things he learned in school, usually when it rains there’s clouds and it’s cold, and right now Luca Verstappen was seeing with his own two blue eyes the sun shining outside.

He repeated the same explanation when you told him he needed to wear his jacket.

“Your dad lived here, he knows the weather. Listen to him and out on the jacket,” you dictated before fixing Mila’s hair under her special Dutch GP cap.

Max shrugged before facing Luca, “You listened to mama, jacket it is! And I can’t be late so hurry up,” Luca huffed while grabbing and putting on the Red Bull jacket.

It seemed as if everyone was waiting for Max’s arrival to the track because the flashes were blinding, the tens listening to their papa when he told them to cover their faces. Knowing you wouldn’t be seeing much of Max today and taking advantage on the twins covered eyes you decided to leave a kiss on his lips, whispering congratulations on his full lips.

You grabbed the twins hands as Max made sure the cap covered most of Mila’s face and only showed part of her curls, but of course Luca still wasn’t convinced with the jacket.

“Papa, it itches,” Luca complained and you could still listen to the flashes and screams of your family surname.

“It’s a rain jacket, Luca. It’s not it itchy, and I am not requesting you to put it on, I am telling you to do it or I am going to do it,” Max never needed to change his voice or posture when reprimanding the kids, but usually his choice of words were enough to command the twins to comply.

That’s how you ended up in the Red Bull hospitality, with Luca running his hands through his hair after taking off the infamous jacket and letting the smell of caramel fill his nostrils.

Soon enough, stroopwafels were being served to the attendees, and especially everyone offering one to the Verstappen twins walking hand in hand, always supervised by you, or their grandmother, or their great grandmother.

"Mila, you can't say no to a stroopwafel," Luca told his sister showing off his dutch, especially since their Oma and super Oma were limiting English while in Holland.

"I am full so I am not accepting more food, Luca," Mila informed his brother as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"If you don't want them, give them to me,"

That was the first thing that went wrong.

The second one was when everybody was focused on the final laps before the red flag, your eyes glued to the screen and ears fully focused on Max’s radio. The perfect moment for Luca to take off the obnoxious jacket.

Thats when everything went wrong.

Max and you were woken up at the same time; head pounding from the celebrations and clothes thrown somewhere on the floor, but it didn't stop you from hearing your son crying while throwing up, waking his sister up in the process.

"Sweetheart, get dressed oh my God," Max said throwing you one of his shirts as he put on his discarded boxers before making your way to the twins bathroom.

You stayed with Mila, calming her down and assuring her nothing was wrong and his brother probably ate something and his body was reacting, while closely listening to Max comforting Luca trying to assure him he was going to feel better eventually.

You thought that was it, but of course it wasn't, because now neither you nor Max were sure of the headache was because of the adrenaline, the drinks or the lack of sleep from Luca's constant vomiting.

Gross.

But that was how you learned that it wasn't just the stroopwafels. The small version of Max Verstappen had a severe case of sweet tooth and didn't deny himself the flavors from his country with fresh poffertjes, a couple of pannenkoeken with sweet toppings, were on the top of Mila's head as you tried to understand how a six year old managed to fit so much food on his stomach.

Then came the fever and the dull pain in his ears.

The first thing you managed was to go back to Monte Carlo, at least that way he’d be sick on his own room and own place, where the older and more tired Jim and Sass would fall asleep on the feet of his bed.

For some miracle, the twins had managed to fall asleep during the short flight, allowing you to snuggle into Max’s side, who pulled a thick blanket on top to cover both your bodies, resting his head on top of yours while he enjoyed the relaxed motion of your fingertips drawing shapes on his shoulder.

“Max?” You softly pronounced his name, he softly groaned in acknowledgement. “When did we decide to have children?” You asked and Max laughed with his eyes closed.

He opened his blue eyes and left a kiss on you lips before he started falling asleep again, mumbling that maybe you two weren’t the best with decision making.

“Do you think we should leave M with the sitter and bring Luca to the ER?” Max questioned, this time it wasn’t your playful husband, it was the worried dad, the one who decided to leave his home celebrations, enjoying being the home hero with his entire family, the well deserved late nights partying after equaling Sebastian’s record.

“I’ll call the doctor but don’t worry, you have a couple of days to rest before Monza, and we weren’t even supposed to come back home so just enjoy the quiet days,” you kissed his temple. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to Holland? You know I’ll manage with the kids,”

“Don’t even say that again, i’m sorry I didn’t keep an eye on him, he didn’t listen to me and didn’t use the fucking jacket and then ate his entire weight on sugar,” Max sounded truly disappointed in himself.

“Are you going to make me tell you that you were working and barely had a moment to take a breath? Don’t be stupid, honey,” you said and Max smiled.

“I love it when you tell me off but call me honey,” He dedicated you his best sleepy smile.

A car was waiting for you in Nice to take you home, Max getting ahead of you and calling the twins doctor, and of course as soon as he saw the pale looks of the usually flushed Luca, his droopy eyes and constant shivering, he gave him some medication and gave the very stern order: no flying for Luca Verstappen until his ear infection was gone, meaning the plans for your family to go to Monza were postponed until further notice.

Little did you know that Mila was already plotting the tears to attend Monza, regardless of his brother’s illness.

[manesthia]

Thoughts on Halsin as an "atypical druid"

I've seen a number of excellent metas lately about Halsin's atypical druidism (the fact that he does not abhor the undead, does not have complete control over his wildshape, etc.). While I agree completely with those points, I've also noticed a tendency to sometimes frame this as Halsin being a "bad" druid or never really belonging with the druids in the first place. And I strongly disagree with that. I feel that Halsin's druidism is a core aspect of his character and implying that he is somehow "bad at it" robs him of something essential. The fact that he is a unique, complex character with far more depth than just "typical DnD druid" doesn't mean that he is not still a druid at heart - and a pretty formidable one, at that.

I see him as a character who has something in common with the nature deities and magician-priests of ancient myth and legend: Merlin (a mentor whose teachings are rooted in the natural world; who guides kings rather than wishing to rule himself; who mediates between the kingdom of men and animals; and who changes into an animal) and Dionysus (who celebrates multiplicity, fluidity, nature-based wisdom, carnal pleasure, the subversion of unnatural restraints - and who also shapeshifts, by the way). Druidism informs Halsin's entire belief system, ranging from his view on relationships (Halsin never uses the word 'polyamory'; instead, he speaks of "doing as nature does" and explains all of his preferences with nature metaphors - "the bear partners as its instinct dictates", etc.) to the importance he places on community. Halsin is unhappy as Archdruid not because he is just an incompetent leader or can't get along with other druids, but because he is so in tune with nature that he only thrives in communities with a structure more like the branching network of roots or mycelia - like our group of "weirdos" or his rebuilt community in Reithwin. He does know how to guide, counsel, and mediate - all of which are essential leadership abilities. But he needs to be part of an interconnected organism that grows and learns together, not the sole leader of it. To me, this is connected to his shapeshifting abilities and druidism: Halsin is connected to all other beings by literally becoming them (even if he is most attuned to his bear-shape).

Halsin speaks very highly of the grove as a place of worship (let's not forget how deeply religious Halsin is, too), but he also says that life in the grove made him feel cut off from nature. It's ironic that a druid grove runs on politics and power hierarchies (aspects of civilisation that most druids should despise), but it does. This is also a theme in a sidequest in BG2, if anyone recalls. In my opinion, the fact that Halsin feels out of place in a grove that has grown corrupted with politics and power plays actually makes him more true to core druidic beliefs, not less so.

I think the idea that Halsin doesn't get along with other druids gets taken a little too far at times, too. Members of his grove have issues with him primarily because they have been radicalised by Shadow Druids, not because Halsin is just too good-aligned for other druids in general. Note that every single druid in the grove who expresses strong anti-refugee sentiment also supports Kagha and the Rite of Thorns. Halsin welcomes outcasts into the grove because he is compassionate and empathetic as a person, yes, but also because it is part of his druidic belief in harmony, unity, and the value of life. Compare with Olodan's line:

This is not to say that I think Halsin's would never clash with other druids at all, or that I think his relationship with the grove is without friction. Obviously, part of the blame for the infiltration of the Shadow Druids falls on him. Obviously, there would be more neutral-aligned druids who would disagree with him on principle. But the fact that the previous Archdruid chose Halsin as his successor (we must assume that he did, since Halsin obviously didn't sign up for it) strongly indicates to me that the deceased, much wiser elders of the grove valued him greatly. Jaheira also repeatedly refers to him with the deepest respect.

I think it's also worth noting that there is room for nuance in druidic beliefs in the BG series. Faldorn in BG1, Cernd in BG2 and Jaheira in all three games are all very different. In many ways, Jaheira is more Harper than druid, which I think was indicated by her being a multiclassed fighter/druid in the earlier games. It also comes out in her conversation with Halsin about the Shadow Curse:

And if you tell her (speaking as Halsin) that she doesn't have to explain herself to him:

Of course, Halsin has a personal investment in lifting the Shadow Curse that Jaheira doesn't share, namely Thaniel. Only Halsin has a special connection with the very spirit of the land. This is also why he is completely unable to heal and move on until the Shadow Curse is lifted, unlike Jaheira. If the spirit of the land is wounded, then so is his own spirit. Jaheira, as a Fighter-Druid-Harper, is very much a protector of the realms as a whole (nature and civilisation), while Halsin is referred to over and over again by various NPCs as Nature's Steward, Keeper of Groves, Guardian of the Land, etc.

My argument here is not that Halsin is a more "typical" druid than Jaheira or that one is a "better" druid than the other (I love them both deeply). I'm just saying that all of this demonstrates to me how deeply intertwined Halsin's druidism is with the rest of his character. And I really, really appreciate him as a druid along with everything else he is.

I'm not really sure that I understand Tumblr etiquette regarding discussion (what is the polite way to interact with each other here? Commenting? Reblogs with hashtags? I'm too old for this site lol), but I would love to talk about this more. Please don't hesitate to comment, even if you disagree.

[mybworlds]

Beyond the Walls

Pairing: Pero Tovar x f!reader (no Y/N)

Summary: You are a princess, you should act like a proper damsel, but you are not and you don't want to be. Luckily, you have an ally on your side.

Warnings: use of you, typical sexism, the main character has female features, but I don't describe her in detail, the image is only meant to represent the moment, nothing else. Fighting against the conventions of the time, the main character wears both women's and men's clothes. Tovar in this story is the protagonist's bodyguard and a knight. Violence graphic.

A/N: Okay, here I am, I woke up with this new idea and here it is. I don't know if I should make it a one-shot or a miniseries, if you want and like please let me know, you know I appreciate your comments.

You run, you urge your horse to increase his pace, you have to lose him. You stop for a moment, but then you think again and decide to cross the fields.

You will do it quicker.

The farmers are not at all enthusiastic about it, some snort as you pass by, others curse you. You smile, you feel so free and light on Callus. Even today you will arrive before him, a triumphant grin bends your lips upwards, you reach and pass the walls surrounding the castle when suddenly he appears in front of you, cutting you off and making your faithful steed rear up.

“I won, Princesa” says your bodyguard giving you a smirk and dismounting from his horse.

“Oh, fuck, that’s not fair!” you blurt out, getting off your stud. “You cheated!”

“Never.” he answers you by taking the reins of his horse and leading it to the stables, you do the same “I went through the main road, you wanted to cheat by going through the fields and destroying all the work of those poor people.”

You laugh, “Please, let’s do it again.”

“Qué? Do you want to destroy the fields again, my lady?” he teases you coming out of the stables.

“Of course not, Pero.” you say “But, you know how I feel when I run, when I'm free to ride a horse, when I can practice swordsmanship with you, when I can be who I really am.” you add.

A few moments later, your mother joins you. Pero kneels, you nod and say “Mother”.

She sighs and shakes her head, “What have you done to yourself, my daughter? Dressed like that, your hair tied up, your face dirty.” She puts on a disgusted expression, “You are a princess and you are a woman. You have some duties to fulfill and you can't afford such obscenities. Dressed as a man!” She tsks “Now go upstairs, I’ve already had a bath prepared for you.”

“You know how I feel!” you reply to what she said. “I want to be free.”

“Daughter,” she uses an annoyed tone “you know that certain liberties are not granted and that only your husband will do this later.”

“I don’t want to get married!” you exclaim while your mother widens her eyes in complete astonishment at your words “I don’t want an old gentleman deciding for me! I am a woman, it's true, but that doesn't mean I want to deprive myself of my life, my choices, my dreams.”

For your mother these are just whims dictated by your age, but according to her you will soon change your mind and indeed you will be happy to marry someone powerful who can give you everything you want and then give yourself the freedom you talk so much about.

What Tovar thinks matters only to you, for everyone he is just your most faithful bodyguard, he is just someone who keeps you safe, who prevents the worst from happening to you, but for each other you are much more than just any princess and her protector. No one knows and it's okay.

For Tovar, you are the bravest person he has ever met and he has met all kinds of people, but no woman has your courage and when you hold a sword you assume that expression so focused and proud that he can't help but feel a deep pride swelling in his chest, when you ride you are absolutely free and you get that expression of absolute bliss and he feels so lucky to still be in this world to enjoy such a spectacle.

You two spend a lot of time together and it was he who offered you that breath you longed for, that freedom that no one else had granted you and for this you are always eternally grateful to him.

Tovar believes that you should be the one to choose what to do with your life, but he also understands that in your case it is not as simple as it seems. So when you confide in him, Pero avoids telling you things like do what you want and run away because he knows you would be capable of it. He offers you long horseback rides on the beach, teaches you how to shoot a bow, has taught you how to use a sword, and on more than one occasion you have gone to the village in disguise. And you loved every single moment of what Pero showed you.

If there was some discomfort at first, now you are fine together. You are so fine that one afternoon when you were out in the woods and you were completely soaked after an accidental fall, Pero offered you his cloak and to thank him you stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Pero was so surprised that he looked you in the eyes for a long time as if to understand if it had been a casual gesture or if you were aware of what you had done. No uncertainty or disturbance changed your gaze, you knew what you were doing.

You have never gone beyond that, although you do not want to submit to certain constraints or duties, you have always and in any case preserved your virtue.

You meet his gaze, sigh and then you go up the main staircase followed by your lady-in-waiting.

“Tovar,” your mother says to the man, “you are an excellent knight and a valuable asset to our house,” the woman continues, “however, I believe you are being too accommodating to her.” She smiles faintly at the knight “I hope you wish to return to those ranks you agreed to honor, but if it were too much for you to do and you couldn't get her to respect you, well, that would mean we would be forced to deprive ourselves of your presence.” the man swallows, the woman is his lord's wife and if he were to be chased away from there too, his wandering would begin again and perhaps something even worse would happen to him. He decides to bite his tongue and simply nods and with a nod of his head takes his leave.

Your maids are supposed to wash your hair, your face, your body, but you dismiss them, asking to be left alone.

You want to be free, you want it so bad. You take a deep breath and then go down into the tub full of rose petals. Everyone — your family — wants to remind you of who you are and where you belong, but your indomitable spirit won’t give up, not like this.

You emerge and decide to fight. You know you won't be alone. You can always count on Pero Tovar.

You dress in a cream-colored tunic, you are determined to go to him, but without wanting to, when you pass in front of the library, you glimpse a light and then hear footsteps: you stop and strain your ears, you open the door slightly and see one of your father's most trusted men and another man you've never seen before, They are apparently not doing anything wrong, but it's the manner and tone that you don't like. They have something in their hands, it's shiny and when you realize what it is, you jump, making a guttural noise that makes you step back and slam into a suit of armor worn long, long ago by your father.

The noise attracts the attention of the two and almost immediately they are at the door, you take another step back, “What are you waiting for?! Kill her!” shouts your father's advisor to the other who he points the gun at you.

Your eyes widen in shock, just then something whistles through the air, then something fast passes in front of you and this movement is followed by a cry of pain. Your attacker lost a hand, chopped off by an axe. You and the councilor turn and see Tovar standing at the beginning of the corridor, you take advantage of that moment of confusion to run to him and take refuge behind him.

Following this event, the castle seems to wake up all at once, excited voices seem to come from every corner.

“Come away, Princesa,” Tovar tells you trying to get you to walk away, but you stare at the other man and are about to tell him that you're going to tell your father what happened and that he won't get away with it, but then the unthinkable happens: two guards appear across the corridor and the counselor shouts “Get them, they were plottin’ something with this man and then they killed him.”

“That's not true!” you try to say, but you know the strong influence that man has on everyone, especially your father. He would be able to say anything and everyone would believe him.

“Run, Princesa, come!” Tovar shouts, dragging you down the stairs with him. You barely have time to leave the castle because they close the gates. When you're apart you look back and for the first time you realize that you're beyond the walls and you're wanted.

You don't know what will happen to your life, your future, your dreams, or your freedom, you just know that the only one who will always be by your side will be your tireless bodyguard, teacher and friend, Pero Tovar.

[racingline3]

Man-Flu ~ Fernando Alonso

♡ Fernando Alonso x Reader

Description: Fernando has a cold but you're there to comfort him.

~fluff~

"Cariño, I think I may be dying."

"Fernando." You say softly, running a hand through his hair. "Darling, you have a cold."

Nobody could ever say your boyfriend wasn't dramatic.

The team doctor had even been around earlier in the day to check on him. All there was to it was plenty of fluids and rest.

He sniffles, "It feels worse than a cold."

You try not to smile but he's too darn cute.

"It is not funny." He says with a pout, his Spanish accent heavily lacing his words.

"You're adorable when you have the man flu." You argue as you pull the covers closer around him. "You'll be fine I promise."

"I hate being sick."

You did feel for him. Usually he was the one in control, the one whose body dictated his profession, his life.

"I know. But how about you just let me take care of you?" You suggest. "Get some rest."

He makes an affirmative noise before an attack of sneezing starts.

You make sure he's comfortable in your bed before you get downstairs to make him some chicken soup and refill his water bottle.

You're rewarded by one of Fernando's smiles when you reenter you bedroom a while later with a tray.

"Still can't sleep?" You ask.

His chest rattles with a cough, "No. Not without you beside me."

Even sick in bed, the man is still a flirt.

You climb onto the bed beside him and cajole him into drinking some soup and more water.

You go to clear the things up and leave him to get some rest.

"Don't go. Stay here with me."

You only have to take one look at him to know you can't say no to the wounded puppy look he's giving you.

So you put the tray away and lie down next to him. It doesn't take long for him to wrap himself around you like a giant koala bear.

You lie on your back and his curls up on his side and slings an arm across your torso and hitches his hip over your legs and his face resting near your neck.

It doesn't take long for his breathing to even out and you can practically feel him drifting off to sleep.

You smile at the feeling, it took a long time before Fernando had been comfortable with the notion of being vulnerable with you. He had built his entire racing persona on being tough and harsh and unreasonable.

To eveyone else he was Fernando Alonso. But with you he was just Fernando.

You must have drifted off to sleep because its dark outside when you open your eyes.

You accidently rouse Fernando from his sleep as you stretch.

He mumbles something in Spanish you don't understand and places a kiss on your neck.

You place a hand on his forehead to make sure he hasn't got a temperature and is hallucinating. But you breathe a sigh of relief when you feel his skin and its not burning up like that morning.

"What was that?" You ask

Your sigh turns to something between a moan and a laugh as he trails his kisses up your neck to behind your ear.

"I said, how did I get so lucky to have you Corazón?"

You turned your head so you can look in his eyes.

"I'm the lucky one." You argue with a pout you know is his weakness.

He shakes his head and gently takes the hand you had checked his temperature with and places a kiss on the back of it. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Fernando smiles as if he's just been told he's won another world championship.

"Now, time for you to eat something and get a good night's sleep, you will feel better tomorrow." You tell him.

He shrugs, seemingly having forgotten his self pity party, "I already feel better with you here."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not going anywhere." You tell him and seal your promise with a kiss

[iamnmbr3]

Great answers! I do love the idea of Sirius as DADA teacher!

Here's another one for you: rank these characters from worst to best for the post of Minister of Magic

Albus Dumbledore

Lucius Malfoy

Sirius Black (again cause I love him and I read a fic about this once)

Minerva McGonagall

Barty Crouch Sr.

oh god. these clowns would all be such terrible minsters of magic. why are you doing this to me? ok fine. here goes.

Lucius Malfoy: I think because movie!Lucius was sort of toned down and defanged fandom sometimes forget what a nasty piece of work book!Lucius was before he had his downfall and got all sad and pathetic. Fanon!Lucius often gets turned into kind of a joke but book!Lucius was out there torturing muggles for fun by night while he had the ear of the Minister by day and was, seemingly, extremely adept at subtly spreading his pureblood supremacist agenda in government. (Honestly, better at it than Tom because unlike Tom he actually cared). Also in book 4 it's very clear that if he had gotten hold of Hermione - a fourteen year old child - on the World Cup grounds he would've attacked her without hesitation (been eager for it, in fact). Yeah he wasn't down with Voldemort's whole thing but that was more because of the effect it had on him personally. with Voldemort out of the picture he was top dog and he was doing just fine. All this to say, as Minister the policies he enacts are...not good to say the least. He'd be out there building a violent pureblood supremacist dictatorship in a heartbeat.

Albus Dumbledore: Albus says he can't be trusted with the power of being Minister and honestly...I believe him. He'd still play the same messed up manipulation games he plays in canon but on a much larger scale (while simultaneously feeling bad about it and telling himself it's for the greater good). He does some truly epic mental gymnastics to convince himself he needs to make himself dictator for life and then things spiral because obviously anyone who resists him is evil right? Right? Of course! The alternative is that he is wrong and he doesn't want to think about that. Also, he doesn't seem that bothered by house elf slavery and his ideas for getting nonhuman magical creatures on his side in canon seemed to involve asking nicely but not actually granting them rights. So I'm not super optimistic on that front. So yeah. This just turns into the whole of wizarding Britain getting gaslit and thrown into insane situations by a madman who seems so wholesome and lovable and yet... Also. Given how poorly organized the Order is I think it's safe to say that all other flaws aside, the man does not have a gift for management.

Barty Crouch Sr.: Listen. He ALSO sucks. Very clearly ok with slavery, not a fan of due process, and allowed Aurors to torture confessions out of suspects. His only saving grace is that he does love rules so he'd probably eventually step down and wouldn't make as many potentially damaging changes as Dumbledore.

Minerva McGonagall: Her no nonsense attitude ensures that any meeting she runs actually accomplishes things. She's smart. She's sane. She's stable. She doesn't care about ending slavery or changing the status quo, but she's a lot better than most of the options. She's not especially creative or good at political games though which often hampers her ability to carry out objectives and prevent bad actors (i.e. Lucius and his faction) from getting their way.

Sirius Black: What does the man who hates authority do when he finds himself in a position of ultimate authority? I don't know but I'd love to read about it! Sirius is actually pretty shrewd (contrary to fanon) and I think he'd actually turn out to be a natural at handling politics (much as he might hate it). He also understands traditional pureblood society (he is a Black after all) but he doesn't idolize it (he hates being a Black) which would allow him to understand and work with multiple factions. Additionally he can be forceful and authoritative. He's impatient, often biased and unfair, sometimes quite cruel, can be temperamental, and again, has 0 problem with slavery. So like. He's not good per say, but he's actually better than some of the others. (At least with him meetings are never dull because if he gets bored enough he just turns into a dog and eats the agenda).

[jellycrusher]

Wolves and Lambs: Part 4

Alpha Max Verstappen x Omega fem!driver

Genre: Series, Omega verse, Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Eventual smut

Summary: Male Alphas are the ones who dominate motor sports all around the world, especially Formula 1. It is a well known fact. Females in general nor Female Omegas are never heard nor encouraged to join the sport since the 1950s. Well, up until now...

Word Count: 5.8k

Chapter's Premise: y/n finds herself trying to come to terms on who she is and how she avoided her heat for so long.

Parts: W&L masterlist / general masterlist

"You heard the doctor. You have to stop taking your suppressants for a while." Megan takes the prescription sheet from your hands and shoves it in her bag.

Both of you just came out from the doctor's office. Megan was meticulous in giving you a disguise just in case anyone is going to spot you. You put your head down and hide in your little canopy of protection, your Aston Martin hat. A bit obvious but it's the only one you have at the moment.

"I can't. If it comes during a race weekend, I'm dead." You reply as you walk side by side with Megan, confined by the hospital walls.

"Ay Dios Mio. Your constant intake of suppressants may be the reason why you haven't had your first heat yet at 25 years old. We don't know if there's gonna be negative side effects on your health." Megan tries her best to whisper under her breath.

"Hey, that's not proven." You halt in your steps and turn to her, lifting your head up to face her.

"But the doc says it may be a factor. You can't keep it hidden forever. It has to come sooner or later. If it comes biting your ass, don't come running to me for help."

"I don't want to be confined on what biology or society dictates me to be. I want to prove to everyone first what I can do and who I am." You continue to walk.

"I understand. I just don't want something bad to happen to you." She groaned.

"Fine. If I win a race, then i'll start tapering my dosage. I'll let it come when it wants to come."

"When you win a podium, not a race. Better odds."

"Fine. A podium."

You felt like you've been basking in the sun, warm against your skin. You didn't want to look at yourself. For every second after that encounter in the elevator until now that you've stayed frozen behind the door of your room, everything was silent.

Your body was fighting your mind. You didn't want this. For so many years, your family and friends, who knew what you really are, told you that we're all bound to meet our mate. We'll know when we meet them.

No. You don't want to. Maybe just not right now. Yes, it's romantic to see couples who are mated and are having the time of their lives. But what if they fell for another person before they met their mate? And what if they refuse their Alpha? What would happen?

Right now, you just want to succeed in this career first. Call yourself stupid for going against your biological desires but there's a lot riding on this. Your parents sacrificed a lot just to get where you are right now. You want to prove that Omegas can also achieve greatness. Female Omegas can also stand in the halls of the greats.

Maybe you're just stubborn. Meeting your mate wouldn't be the end of the world. If you give in, you won't lose anything. Maybe.

Maybe you're just overthinking. Maybe you're being too stubborn.

Max is not a bad person. You've said it yourself before. He is actually a decent guy. Well, just from your text messages but there were no deep conversations yet. You don't love him to see him as your mate. You might learn to love him but it doesn't feel right for your feelings to be swayed just because your biological desires him so.

You barely slept a wink last night. The inkling that bothered you for a few weeks now since the first race have just been confirmed, and the fact that Max left you a lot of messages that you haven't read yet made your mind in a state of disarray.

Megan barged in your room to wake you up. She even had to throw the covers off the bed and furiously opened the curtains, blinding you with the beaming sun. You groan hard as she pulls you out of the comfort of your bed.

"I can't believe this. We're late! Ay Santo Dios..." Megan continued to mention a lot of words that you were not familiar with as she looks at your commitments for the day from her phone screen.

It only took a few moments and the both of you are now on your merry way to the circuit with you being the driver. Megan was still very furious at you for you haven't given her a reason for your tardiness. At the same time, your phone was still blowing up from Max's messages.

"I've had it with your ringtone. I'll set it to silent." Megan pulls your phone from the center console and sees '50 messages' beside the name 'He Who Must Be Avoided At All Times' on the screen.

"It's fine, leave it." You're barely able to look at Megan because you had to focus on the road.

"Who's this? Is there a guy bothering you? Stalking you?!" she asks.

"No. Just leave it." With eyes still glued to the road, you try to yank the phone off her hands.

"Tell me. Is it a stalker?! 'Cause if it is, i'll kill him." She warned.

"Please no. Relax, it's not a stalker." You assured in a calm tone as she hands the phone to you.

"Y/N. If you're in a dangerous situation and you're not telling me, your mom will kill me." She appealed.

Well, that's not impossible. These two are overprotective.

"Megan..." You paused. Megan patiently waits for your answer as you drum your fingers anxiously on the wheel. "It's Max."

"Oh, Max... Wait, who's Max? from Red Bull?" Megan rambles. "Why? Did he do anything to you?"

"He did nothing. It's just.. He found out last night that I was an Omega. I've been avoiding his texts since then." You confessed, tightening your grip on the wheel.

"How? You were always careful."

"That's the thing. I was. I'm still on my suppressants." You gently scratch the surface of the wheel. "Remember when you told me how you met your husband? Your mate?"

"Yes." Megan now replied slowly, now under a notion at where the conversation is going. "Oh my god! Is he..?"

"I think so." you confessed.

Megan was about to shriek from joy but she stopped for she knew how you would respond. For her, it sounds romantic. For you, it's not. She can't count how many times your rejected the idea of having a biological mate. It wasn't against the law of anybody to love somebody else aside your fated mate but for your body to act against your will regardless of what you feel. That's what you dislike about it.

"I still have to talk to him about it. I can't have him blabbering to everyone on the grid." You added. "Let's take this one step at a time."

"You still have a race later. Better focus on that first." She replies as she takes off her seatbelt when you arrived at the car park in the circuit.

Megan hauled you to the team hospitality to prepare you for the drivers' briefing. When you arrived at the briefing hall, majority of the drivers were already seated and the team principals were standing around in a circle, chatting. You stood by the door looking for an empty seat to take when you saw Charles, Oscar, and Lando calling you to take the seat they reserved for you on the third row. Your feet took a few steps when a hand suddenly but gently caught your wrist.

"We need to talk. You've been ignoring my texts." Max urged, eyes dead straight at you.

"Max, not here. Later." You scan the room for any eyes or ears that might eavesdrop as you carefully remove his hand from you.

Max takes a second to compose himself then tugs his hand through his hair. "Fine. Sit with me then."

"I'll choose my own seat. Thank you." You replied as you walk away from him, not giving him enough time to add more. Max's hand hovered uncertainly as if to stop you but he lets his hand limp

You strut farther into the hall and the three men gave you space to stride along the third row to take your seat between Charles and Oscar. Max took an empty seat on the first row beside Checo. He can't help but steal some glances in your direction during the driver's briefing.

It was hard to ignore Max as well. One good thing that your incident with Max has caused is that his scent doesn't make you cower in fear anymore. Knowing the reason why the dynamics between the two of you had changed, you mentally slap your pheromone-disturbed self from inhaling his lingering scent.

His scent wasn't really distinct before. For you, it was associated with fear or something menacing, but now he smelled so crisp like Cotton and sweet like baked Tangerine. Being that close to each other gave you a chance to actually distinguish his scent. Just remembering Max's small sniffs on your neck makes your body squirm, in a good way. It was nice and comforting. But it also felt sensual.

Alpha smells so good. Let's smell him once more. You mentally slap yourself once more, shaking off the tiny voice from your inner Omega in your head.

"I heard from Lance that you're moving. Where will you stay?" Charles' voice took you out from your trance just as the drivers' briefing just ended.

"In Monaco. It being a tax-free haven sounds enticing." you replied in glee knowing that it was the Monegasque who asked you.

Noticing the other younger drivers to turn to you after hearing your response, it took a moment for you to remember that a number of them were living there.

Lando perks up, legs bouncing. He leans forward and peeked his head across Oscar. "Do you know how to play Padel?" you shake your head. "We'll teach you. We had been waiting for another member to join our little club."

"He just wants to have the bragging right when he defeats all of us." Oscar chuckled, arms crossed on his chest.

"He even almost made Max cry. Have some mercy on all of us, will you?" Charles adds, further teasing Lando.

"I'll tell you when I've settled in. Maybe a housewarming lunch or dinner sounds good?" You ask. Lando quickly taps Alex's shoulder to tell him about your new residence and a possibility of a new member for their F1 drivers-exclusive Padel Club.

"I'm going to tour you to some of the best places. You still owe me a car ride." Charles couldn't help but smile at you, already making up a list in his mind.

When the briefing ended, all of the drivers went their own way back to their hospitalities. At the corner of your eyes, you saw Max hurriedly stood up from his seat on the first row and was about to make his way towards you. He noticed the miniscule squirm your body did when your eyes met. You almost panic in your seat but he came to an abrupt stop when he saw Megan pull you away.

Max tried his best to look for a chance to talk to you, much to his dismay. There wasn't much time for each of the drivers to get to interact with each other, especially during race day. After some of his media commitments in the morning were done, he went to visit the Aston Martin hospitality. He comes up to the small ledge when he saw Lance chatting with some of the staff.

"Hey Lance." Lance gets up from his seat when he noticed Max and greets him with a one-armed hug and a double backslap. "Have you seen y/n?"

"I think Sky Sports has her for an interview, I think. You know, the usual." Lance replies as he sits down. Max groans go unnoticed.

"Do you know when she might be free? I need to talk to her." Max asks as he leans his hand on the ledge.

"Maybe after the race? Her schedule's so full today. Haven't even seen her stay here in the hospitality for more than 15 minutes. Megan even got her shooting a lot of content for our Tiktok account."

"Megan?" Max quirks up his eyebrow.

"Speaking of..." Lance chimed in as he spots Megan behind Max, about to walk inside. "Megan!" She stops and turns to Lance's direction. "He's looking for y/n." He points at Max and Megan's eyes follow.

Megan thought differently when she saw Max right there, comfortably leaning on the ledge. It was in her overprotective instinct to assume that Max might possibly be a snitch or asking anyone in the team regarding what you are. She walks up to Max and asked him to come with her, already walking away without waiting for a response. Max was confused at first but did not hesitate to follow behind.

Max and Megan comes to a halt in an empty corner in the paddock, away from prying eyes.

"What are you doing?" Megan snaps around and narrows her eyes at him, arms crossed on her chest.

"I was just asking for y/n." Max innocently confessed.

"Were you going to tell on her? I can't believe you." She leans forward as if interrogating the driver.

Max leans back, baffled by the sudden change in demeanor. "No. Of course not... Wait, you know?" He tries to whisper.

She tries to examine his face for a minute for any sign of a lie but relaxes when she felt that he was telling the truth. "Listen, Max. I know she's been avoiding you but I need her to be at her best today. She needs to be on that podium."

"Don't we all?" Max scoffs.

"No, you don't understand. I need her to be on the podium because her health is on the line. I've let her be stubborn for too long 'cause she's in love with racing too much but I finally had her to agree, at last. I don't know what's going on between the two of you but please don't distract her too much today." She pleads with a serious tone.

Max hated knowing that it wasn't his place to pry. All he wanted from you was answers but it seems that even more questions are piling up. What does she mean? Your health is on the line? Are you sick? Are you injured? How is it connected to you getting that podium?

His inner Alpha was trying to fight himself.

Our omega... She's hurt or sick. Ask for more information. No, we're clearly told to stay put. She's not ours. Isn't it clear that she's avoiding us? Than ask her directly. Let's smell her again. No. Just shut up. Stay.

"Understood?" Megan asserts herself, taking Max out of his trance.

"Yes ma'am."

Megan waited for a bit to see how Max would take their conversation but left quickly when she saw that people are now starting to crowd the paddock. Max stayed in that quiet corner for a few seconds before going out into the paddock. There he saw you, sitting just outside your team's hospitality with Alonso and surrounded by a few cameras and staff. Probably completing a challenge with your teammate. His eyes locked onto you, taking in your smile. It was invigorating for him to see you having fun.

He used to feel so foreign around you. When he sees you having fun with his friends, it irritated him. His face used to turn sour when Lando or Alex hype you up.

There was something about you that intrigues him. You weren't able to race with most of them back then. Charles was a bit familiar with you because you got to race alongside his brother. Oscar and Logan had only met you once or twice and they had raced with you in a few Grand Prix but usually a lot of drivers keep to themselves and stayed in their own garages.

Then there's the big elephant in the room. You were an Omega, no doubt. After the incident in the elevator, he did scour the internet after his haze faded when he got back in his room. There were only articles about you stating that you were an Alpha, your achievements in F2 and F3, and also the highlights of your racing career. No scandals, not much haters. There were no articles claiming you have a bad beef with any driver.

For a public personality, you kept pretty quiet. Maybe that's why no one has discovered your secret yet. But that would be an extreme feat. To conceal your identity. What about heats? The horrendous and taxing schedule of Formula 1 isn't really ideal for Omegas. He recalled when Lando had to deal with Oscar's heat every month. When they were still unmated, Lando had to tiptoe around Oscar and avoid him when his pheromones were on the highest setting. How the other drivers reacted to him when it came around race weekend. It took them at least 5 months to come to the truth that they needed each other.

It was a bit easier for Oscar because everyone knows that he is an Omega since the start. They knew they had to avoid him when Lando or Oscar gave them a heads up. It scares him thinking that it will be much harder for you but it was also amazing how good you hide it.

Questions for another day, he admits to himself.

You were having a blast going against Nando in a PR competition when you spot Max walking through the paddock. Your eyes met and it made you nervous that he might come up and wait for you but no, he avoided your eyes and continued to walk. Your eyes followed his figure, relieved but also worried. Fernando had to call your attention to continue the challenge.

Your PR and media commitments were finally done and then, there was the driver's parade. The crowds in the grandstands were almost full and it was deafening. Everyone was screaming each of the drivers' names when they were called and when it was your turn to be introduced, it was heartwarming to hear their warm welcome. A smile so wide painted your face as you greet the driver while stepping in the convertible car and sat on the surface of the rear end near the deck lid.

You waited for your car's cue to go but you see it got delayed. There were a slight commotion amongst the staff that were on standby on the track and they were pointing to something behind you. You turn around and they were checking the car behind yours that was supposed to be for Max. Apparently, the engine of his parade car won't start again.

Fernando's car already left way before you and also Checo's. The staff are now pointing at yours and you see that the people who were talking to Max assisted him to get off the car. They were ushering him to your direction. Someone slapped Max's car number onto the side of your convertible. You now realize that they're letting you and Max share a car so that this problem won't delay the program.

The car shook slightly as Max climbs up the convertible. Max sees you scooting to one side trying to avoid his eyes so he quietly sat down on the other side of the convertible's rear. Both of you started to wave to the crowd as the engine of the convertible purred. Max would steal a few glances when you're not looking. Your body was stiff and awkward, in contrast to what you were showing the crowd, smiling and waving.

"Relax. It's not like I bite." Max spoke up just loud enough for you to hear under all those noise. "Just concentrate on the race later or else, you'll be an easy target for these guys."

You snap your head around and glared at him. He had this smug smile while still waving. "They wish." You scoff.

With just a few words from him, you find your shoulders loosening up. Slightly offended by his insinuation but you knew that he was just riling you up. It was also surprising that Max didn't bother to disturb you since the briefing. You would be at shoulder's length but still, he'd just nod when your eyes met.

The drivers' parade ended quickly and every driver headed for their respective garages to prepare. You spent the remaining time training with your physio and getting enough rest. The last program was for the national anthem. You make your way onto the track and answered a few questions for a Sky Sports presenter who was roaming and interviewing some of the drivers. You stood behind a grid kid to take your place and kept quiet. Right before the anthem was played, you noticed the female grid kid trying to steal a look at you. You smile back at her and she quietly squealed as she swiftly face in front. When the anthem finished playing and as you follow the other drivers exiting the track, your grid kid raised her hand to request for a high five. You gladly pressed your palm on hers and the other grid kids also eagerly raised their hand as you pass by them, catching the attention of the other drivers and the cameras.

You find yourself gritting your teeth and hands clenching the wheel as you drive the car in your grid position at the track during the formation lap. You look up at the red lights above.

"It's lights out and away we go, here at the Jeddah Corniche Circuit! and it's Max Verstappen who takes the lead of the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix."

With a good reaction time, you were able to overtake three places from 15th. You were able to fend for your position well in those crucial first few laps of the race. You attacked, you defended, you attacked, you defended. It was a constant cycle.

Max, who had started in pole position, lost the lead to Charles on the third sector in the second lap, won it back by the fourth lap and slowly and methodically pulled away for his second win of the season.

It took you only eight laps to move into 10th place, and only eight more to rise to sixth. By the halfway point of the race, and helped by the fortuitous arrival of a safety car that allowed you to make up even more ground, you find yourself in fourth.

"Y/n had played down her chances of victory from the moment a broken drive shaft ended her qualifying early Saturday and left her in 15th place. But that did not mean she had any intention of staying in the back of the field. Look at her picking her way through the pack behind her with ease"

Your driving style was aggressive and clever, a total beast on the offence. The journalists have also made note of your tyre preservation prowess. They have published a few articles after the first race mentioning that with your pairing with Alonso this year, Aston Martin can gain considerable confidence that it will be regularly able to take on the red cars and the black ones fielded by Mercedes too.

At around lap 46, Ben informs you through the radio that Lewis who is in P3 at the moment incurred a 5 second penalty. With Charles on P2 just 2 seconds ahead of Lewis and you tailing behind just a second away, there might be a chance for you to end up on the podium at the end of this race. You just have to maintain the gap behind Lewis and also for Lewis to continue battling with Charles.

Ben: "So, one more lap y/n, just bring it home." Y/N: "Think something happened to my left tyre." Ben: "Ok, copy. So Sainz, 30 seconds behind, battling with Russell."

You peek at your front left tyre and it was starting to wobble. You may have hit something on the track, possibly puncturing the tyre.

Ben: "If you go Diff-Mid 12, Sainz 20 seconds and gap to Lewis is 2 seconds." Ben: "Now 17 seconds. Now 16 seconds."

The car was already slowing down and the left tyre was tumbling around on its rim. Ben was constantly updating you but you did not bother to respond.

Ben: "So use Strat 5. 10 seconds to Sainz and 3 seconds from Lewis." Ben: "7 seconds to Sainz. 6 seconds to Sainz." Ben: "Maintain this gap to Lewis. 4 seconds."

You've passed the last corner and about to go on the straight where the chequered flag should be when you saw Sainz closely tailing behind you. With your feet instinctively pushing flat out, your car zoomed past and hopefully closing the gap with Lewis in less than 5 seconds for P3 position.

Y/N: "Do we have it?! TELL ME BEN, DO WE HAVE IT??" Ben: "That's it, y/n! You've done it, P3! YOU'VE DONE IT! Wow, you've done it y/n." Y/N: "Was there a flag? I did not see it." Ben: "There was a flag. You've done it though. Just stop. You can pull the car over. We'll come and get you." Y/N: "Fuck that was close! Sorry for the profanity." Ben: "Yeah, I was about to say the same thing. That was a close call. Too close for comfort. But awesome work, mate." Y/N: "LET'S GO!!!!! BEN, WE DID IT!!!"

Your team radio is now being broadcasted across all tv screens worldwide. As Max and the other drivers complete their slow lap around the track after they've crossed the line, they catch a glimpse of you in the screens. Throwing your hands in celebration, still inside the cockpit. When you got out of the car at the side of the track, you knelt down and pats the damaged tyre aggressively as if thanking the car.

You had to do your best as not to cry from overwhelming joy. You felt like you won the race for P3 but you didn't. It was as if you were soaring through the clouds right then. The crowds at the grandstands were screaming your name, fireworks were setting off in the background. That was for Max, of course, but it couldn't hurt to imagine that it could be for you too.

You were picked up by a safety car and your car was towed to the parc ferme. When you got out of the car, Oscar jumped at the moment to wrap you in a hug, Lando following behind.

Warm and sincere congratulations, pats on the backs and helmet taps too, were sent over your way when you threw yourself to your team of mechanics and engineers who were waiting on the other side of the barricade. You took off your helmet and balaclava so you could properly breathe and to revel in the sounds of your victory.

You were the first one who had to do the post-race interview, followed by Charles in P2 and Max in P1. You couldn't contain your smile, choking on your words yet again.

"Y/n!" David Coulthard calls out your name in joy. "That was an amazing race. You had your maiden pole last race and now, your maiden F1 podium after just 2 races in this season. Could you tell me more?"

"With the information of Lewis' 5 second penalty, I had to give everything on the table. I've never had a race like that before. We tried to maintain the gap but also had to monitor Carlos behind as well. It was a team effort and I couldn't have done it without them."

"Your last lap had us trembling in our seats. You managed to bring home your car across the line in that state. How did you do it?" David asked with such enthusiasm.

"I don't know how I've managed to be cool in that period but I just... I had no choice. Survival instincts came over me and I've come all this way. I'm not gonna pull over and back off to let anyone drive pass. I was thinking 'How can I get there with taking as much risks as possible without losing the car altogether?'. I still can't believe I did it." You try to take a few deep breaths after you finished your interview, still reeling in from that feeling of accomplishment.

Max and Charles pats your back as the three of you walked towards the cooldown room. The huge screen showing the highlights of the race, including your tyre mishap and struggle to cross the finish line for P3. Charles hands you a water bottle and you took it, not peeling your eyes away from the screen. If you only had your phone, you would take a photo of the small pillar with a huge number 3 and a small screen playing your driver intro bit.

The three of you are now ushered to prepare for the podium ceremony. Your feet was quick to move after your name was called. The crowd roared with applause and cheers as you made your way up the podium. You stood patiently on your step as you hear Charles' and Max's name. Despite feeling a bit flushed due to the adrenaline from winning P3, your cheeks felt a bit cold as you place your hands on the side of your face.

Your race suit now wet from the champagne being sprayed amongst the podium placers. Charles and Max were having fun targeting you, spraying the champagne at your face. They both admired your blissful smile and eyes filled with euphoria.

"Champagne suits you. Congratulations y/n!" Max can't help but admit to himself that you were an excellent racer. Your expression softened when you heard him and it's like Max's heart skipped a beat.

"Thanks Max. Congratulations on winning!" As if the champagne rain slowed down, it was just you and Max. The stage lights made the champagne sparkle, trickling down on both of you. He never saw anyone be so ecstatic in getting P3 but you made celebrating look so beautiful and graceful.

You watched Max's face as he shared a smile with you but not a second later, you could clearly see the horror in his face as his body stiffen.

"Y/n, your nose." Charles cocks his head to the side of Max, inconspicuously pointing to his nose, prompting you to do the same. Your hand crept up to your face and it was met by a warm liquid oozing down your nose. When you swiped it off, you saw blood on your fingertips.

Max was quick to turn you around, shielding you from the cameras. You try to wipe your nose with your arm but the blood can't seem to stop.

"Are you okay? What's wrong? Do you want us to call the medics?" Max whispers in panic, still spraying the champagne at Charles and towards the crowd below as he shields you behind him. To the people below and in the crowd, it was as if you're just wiping the champagne off your face.

"Relax. It's just a nosebleed. This will pass." You whispered, still trying to wipe off the remaining blood. The sleeve of your green suit now tinted red. "What the heck, it's not stopping."

"Y/n, I think the cameramen are now noticing." Charles' eyes darted to the cameramen below and above.

"I've been a bit more anemic lately. I think that's why." You murmured.

"When Megan told me that your health is compromised, is this it?" Max leans to your side a bit, still facing front and waving to the crowd.

"You talked to her? What did she tell you?!" You glared at Max, surprising the two men.

"Y/n, Max, can you two talk about it later? We're still on the podium." Charles cleared his throat.

You slightly nudged Max away from you, not noticed by the crowd, while you pinch your nose and cover your face. Max can't help but stare in concern at your figure. His inner Alpha wanting to carry you and rush to medic's tent.

Then the ceremony ended.

"Y/n, come on. I haven't told him much, I promise. I just told him to leave you alone that day." Megan pleaded as she follows you while carrying a large box filled with your household items.

You open the door to let Megan in but you avoid her eyes. She darts across the empty unit, footsteps echoing along the walls, to place the box labeled 'Kitchen Items' down on the floor. You sighed, accepting defeat, as you drop the huge bag of items that you were carrying.

"Fine, but next time, stop telling him unnecessary information."

"Hey, your health was not an unnecessary information. I'm just glad you're fine now. I told you that your prolonged use of suppressants will eventually bite you in the ass." She rambled.

"Yes, yes. You gotta stop scolding me. It's been like a thousand times already." You groaned. "I got the podium and I'm on a suppressant detox. Happy?"

"Yes. I'm working on your schedule just in case it came early." Megan skips across the unit and stopped near the door. "I'll get the last box. You can stay here just in case the delivery company calls through the intercom." She exits the unit after you nod your head.

The empty huge apartment unit was now filled with unopened boxes. There were no furnitures yet but the anticipation of decorating your new home is making you excited. Wood and cured paint scent filled the air. It was relaxing for you but after a while, it's actually nauseating so you open the door to the balcony.

Coldness of the elegant granite greeted your arms as you lean against it. Your apartment is located in a spot overlooking the marina where you can spot plentiful yachts. With just a soft breeze, you could almost smell the sea. Even with your eyes closed, you could vividly visualize the city below you from its sound. The hustle and bustle of Monaco.

Closing your eyes for a few seconds made you yawn. You are still recovering from that horrific anemic bout during the podium ceremony in the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. The team had to recommend you to a local hospital for a check up and was just given a prescription. You took a flight out the next day and went straight to "Moving Out" mode. It hasn't been two days since the race but here you are, renting a luxurious apartment in Monaco, about to live your best life.

"Looks like you could fit a head in your mouth." You heard a familiar warm voice coming from above your balcony. When you opened your eyes, there was someone peeking their head out of their balcony and looking down below at you, apparently still yawning. You closed your mouth in embarrassment.

"Max?!"

"Hi neighbor!"

Next part: Part 5

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