#I mean that in like... they are well written

[astonmartinii]

doing business with family | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem hadjar reader

brother and boyfriend in the same sport? nothing has ever gone wrong when doing business with family... right?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, pepemarti and 307,377 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & isackhadjar

yourusername: max will officially become my second favourite f1 driver this weekend

view all comments

user1: watched isack’s f2 radio highlights in preparation for this weekend … yeah they’re defo siblings

user2: i know they’re parents had a HANDFULL with them growing up

user3: lmao just ask george in abu dhabi or lando in austria, y/n knows how to make her point KNOWN

isackhadjar: omg i beat max in something!

yourusername: come on bro have some faith in yourself - you can defo beat max in singapore at least

maxverstappen1: rude?

yourusername: you know i hate singapore in solidarity babe?

isackhadjar: and that’s crazy because she loves the glitter helmets

yourusername: i really do

user4: get you a couple that measures their love by glitter helmets?

user5: y/n is so real for that though, i’d fuck seb’s glitter helmets

yourusername: right well i don’t love them quite THAT much

charles_leclerc: slides £5 across the table isack please take max out, he won’t hate you

isackhadjar: no?

landonorris: WHY NOT

isackhadjar: i want to keep my job and actually score some points

yourusername: you people done harassing my brother?

maxverstappen1: do we have a problem?

isackhadjar: they’re being mean, they’re trying to PEER PRESSURE ME

charles_leclerc: i don’t think i was peer pressuring you

charles_leclerc: it’s bribery, god get it right

maxverstappen1: i think you should watch it

yourusername: say something like that to him again frenchie and your ass is grass

user6: omg romance ❤️‍🔥

redbullracing

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 823,081 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda0511 & liamlawson30

redbullracing: red bull vs rb on pop culture trivia… max and isack were unstoppable - we might have to split them up next time

view all comments

user7: now i wonder where max and isack got their real housewives knowledge from …

user8: this has y/n hadjar written all over it

user9: if i remember rightly y/n was asked by some interviewer in the paddock who she’d like to see as a paddock guest and she said LISA RINNA?

user10: i knew i stanned the right queen

isackhadjar: not our fault that liam and yuki aren’t caught up with all the fresh news

maxverstappen1: we’re bonded cats i don’t think they have the power to separate us

redbullracing: it’s a trivia game…

maxverstappen1: THAT’S MY BABY BROTHER

redbullracing: YOU GUYS AREN’T EVEN MARRIED YET?

yourusername: looks like admin just lost their invite to the wedding…

redbullracing: yOU AREN’T ENGAGED?

yourusername: i guess you’ll never know

user11: no way they just teased their engagement in an argument over media duties?

user12: you’re shocked? this is quintessential them

user13: and they’re adding in their little rabid mini-them? i fear f1 is actually not ready

liamlawson30: so when do we get to do cars trivia? or is it all set up for them to win?

yourusername: just say you’re uncultured…

maxverstappen1: get a new personality trait bro

liamlawson30: omg why are you guys on my neck so hard?

maxverstappen1: funny

liamlawson30: this is so not fair why didn’t you guys defend me like this last season?

yourusername: that’s my flesh and blood dude

isackhadjar: duh!

maxverstappen1: i am so in love with y/n i just do what she says, do let it be known that if isack was not related to y/n he would be just another stray cat to me

isackhadjar: sure i’ll take it!

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, isackhadjar and 839,023 others

maxverstappen1: we had the chance to extend our championship lead but with two optimists behind you anything can happen…

view all comments

user21: LMAO THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THIS AND THE LAST POST

user22: isack probably teared up in the stewards room and max crumbled

user23: i mean on his radio as soon as GP said it was isack max was immediately like ‘is he okay?’

isackhadjar: sorry max!

maxverstappen1: no worries buddy, you can pay me back with room service

isackhadjar: so our move marathon is still on?

maxverstappen1: don’t be dumb - obviously!

maxverstappen1: i need my second in command to help defend my snacks from y/n

yourusername: you guys aren’t supposed to have those snacks i’m doing you a favour !!!

isackhadjar: sureeeee

yourusername: i can call your trainers up if you want?

maxverstappen1: NO WE’RE OKAY

user24: esteban ocon is not okay seeing this tomfoolery

user25: yeah yeah yeah it’s all fun and games but that’s legit his baby brother of course he wasn’t going to cuss him out

user26: exactly! he’s been with y/n for like four years? of course he was concerned about isack’s safety than his race

landonorris: i’m not surprised, just disappointed

maxverstappen1: why?

landonorris: I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND AND YOU STILL AIRED ME OUT ONLINE?

maxverstappen1: first of all y/n is my best friend

maxverstappen1: second of all isack is my baby brother

maxverstappen1: third of all you’re annoying

yourusername: heavy on number three

landonorris: i GIVE UP WITH YOU PEOPLE

user27: i love watching max and y/n making people crash out in instagram comments

user28: couples that terrorise together, stay together

georgerussell63: interesting ….

yourusername: you wanna say something

georgerussell63: suddenly not anymore

maxverstappen1: LMAO

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 459,034 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, isackhadjar & pepemarti

yourusername: bond a little bit stronger than a lil crash in a formula one race

view all comments

user29: if they don’t get married and live happily ever after i might just sue them

user30: so real

user31: they’re my parents and i can’t go up to four christmasses

redbullracing: that was millions in damage

yourusername: you gonna invoice me for it?

redbullracing: no?

yourusername: then get the fuck out of my comments this is a wholesome post

user32: why is pepe here?

pepemarti: i am just as much part of the hadjar family as max

maxverstappen1: well that’s just factually incorrect

pepemarti: nuh uh

maxverstappen1: ??? i’m marrying in? what are you doing?

pepemarti: i’m mama hadjar and y/n’s favourite so divine intervention

maxverstappen1: @yourusername please dispell this nonsense

yourusername: look at his lil face …

pepemarti: :p

isackhadjar: i’ll be clear i am not marrying pepe

pepemarti: that’s not what you told me the other day :(

user33: can someone make a chart this is all a bit confusing now

user34: i don’t think anything is helping with this chaos

maxverstappen1: i love you forever and ever, even if your brother puts me in the wall <3

yourusername: awww i love you too bubs

maxverstappen1: but i am your favourite though?

yourusername: don’t tell them but yes!

isackhadjar: these are public comments?

pepemarti: i’m legally blind now

fin.

note: a quicky i wrote during the super bowl lol - hope you enjoy xx

[avoqueerdo23]

This is a fun little "hot take" and I'm not saying Brian didn't have it coming. I'm glad that fucktard is dead. But ww1 was almost definitely on its way with or without Ferdinands assassination just like our country has been descending into facism well before Trump entered politics. I highly recommend Margarette Wilson's "the road to 1914" for more insight on this. Actually i recommend everything she's ever written but that's besides the point. I still commend those with the means and the courage to give up their life and/or freedom to eliminate those individuals responsible for doing the most harm and raise the publics awareness of these issues in the process but it's going to take more than a few assassinations to fix things. I suspect it won't get better without the current regime being overthrown and something new being built in it's place.

[writingwithfolklore]

I Cut Out Social Media for 30 Days and It Changed My Life

Okay hefty title, but I mean every word of it.

Over January I followed a book called Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport. I'm sure you've already been lectured to death about how bad technology and social media is for you, so I won't repeat the statistics here. What I will say is that Newport suggests that there are also positives to technology and that abandoning it altogether is not realistic. Instead, he proposes that we define our values, and then use technology to attain them--rather than allowing technology to define what values we should hold.

To do this, Newport suggests a complete "detox" of non-essential technologies for 30 days. That means abstaining from social media, netflix and other streaming services, videogames, etc. But of course still being able to phone loved ones, email for work, and use google maps if you're going somewhere new, etc. In doing this detox, he proposes that we will be able to better understand what values we hold as people, not just as consumers of technology.

He was right.

At first I found it really hard. Right away I noticed that any activity other than doomscrolling and watching endless hours of Youtube took a lot more brain power. I started doing puzzles, reading, writing (a lot!), cooking and baking, and taking many walks with my dog. By the end of the day I'd be fuzzy and exhausted, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch my favourite shows. I didn't, but I wanted to.

But then I started to notice my "brain stamina" (I'm sure there's a better term for it but oh well) started to improve. Instead of writing for two hours before getting fuzzy, I could write for four. And then six. And then eight. Slowly, I found myself being able to do more in a day, to focus for longer on one task, and I didn't feel as drained by the end of it. I had a clearer mind, I could remember things a lot better, I was no longer struggling to find really easy words--they just came to me.

This all also resulted in me spending so much more time with my friends and family. I realized that I really valued this time--and that it wasn't something I could replace by hitting 'like' on an instagram post from them. I rediscovered community, passion, and in many ways, humanity.

It was like I was looking at the world in a new way. I started to notice more, be curious about more. I kind of remember being this way as a kid, and I couldn't believe how I had ever let that go. Now, the idea of sitting on my couch and watching hours and hours of Youtube in every moment of my free time feels inconceivable.

However, my 30 days are up, and so Newport suggests setting some rules to reintroduce what technology I believe supports my values. I've decided not to return to Instagram, but that I do value keeping up to date with the gaming community and pop culture, which I do on Youtube. Now, Youtube is something that I watch for a couple hours on weekends, instead of eating up every bit of free time I have. I also value interacting with other writers and the writing community, so I've created a couple hours in my schedule to check Tumblr and my Discord and keep up to date with you guys here.

But now most of my free time is spent reading or writing, or being with my family and friends, and I value that most of all. To demonstrate how much has changed, in the months before my detox, I wrote maybe 2500 words. Since my detox, I've written 40 000. Last year, I read about four books. In just one month during my detox, I read 10.

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in trying for yourself, feel free to reach out to me! I'd love to talk more about my experience and things that worked or didn't work for me. I'd also really recommend the book, it was incredibly helpful in determining what rules were healthy to set and how to get out of technology and then back in with success.

Back to usual content soon :-)

[jenniferjareauwife]

Work Stress

pairing: billie eilish x fem reader

category: fluff

warnings: anxiety

word count: 629

summary: you get home after a stressful work day and billie comforts you

I came home with a heavy weight on my shoulders. It had been a rough few days, Billie was spending her free time making music which inevitably meant less time with her but I was stuck at work with meeting after meeting with nothing but anxiety weighing on me.

I set my bag down on the kitchen counter before retreating to Billie and my's shared bedroom.

There she was, headphones on, notebook in hand. Scribbles of art written all over the pages with one liners next to almost all of them. I wanted more than anything to get in bed next to her but she was busy and I didn't want to disturb her so I just walked to the bathroom to take off my makeup. "Hey baby." I couldn't help but feel my heart melt at her sweet voice.

"Hi." It came out as a whisper and I looked to her as she took off her headphones.

"Everything alright?" She leaned on the doorframe, her brows furrowed a bit as she tried to read me.

"Long day." I sighed and leaned against the counter with my hands, giving her a small frown.

"You could've texted me. I would've faked a car crash so you could leave work." I laughed along with her.

"Aw I really should've shouldn't I?"

"Well that's what I'm for, right?" I pretended to give it some thought but I eventually just agreed with her.

"It's not that I don't like my job." I started. "It can just be a fuck ton sometimes."

"I know sweet girl, I know." She took me into her arms, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"We should just live on an island or something."

"I agree. Have a few parrots." I laughed at the thought.

"We could create a civilization. Create a new language." I offered. She giggled and rubbed my back. "Come on baby, let's get you into some more comfortable clothes." She guided me to the bed before starting to undress me, starting with everything on top before removing everything on bottom.

"It's chilly. Hoodie?" She smiled and nodded, already reaching for her hit me hard and soft hoodie that was laying on the floor. It smelled like her, making my body relax.

"What else can I do for you my love?"

"Hm. I mean...I think I'm just really tired, you know? Kinda wanna settle down. You can go back to writing if you want, I just want your company."

"No baby, I've spent all day writing, I'm here for you." She pulled the covers up over me before getting comfortable next to me. "Any shows? Books?"

"I don't really know. Kinda was just looking forward to you."

"You're so cute." She kissed my nose before pulling the hood up over my head.

"Ew it's gonna mess up my hair."

"It's cute." She shrugged as I pulled the hood down, my hair already messed up. "You're so pretty." I scrunched up my nose and leaned into her, burying my face in her neck. "I'll tell you what. For this weekend, I'll cancel my studio times."

"Why?" I pulled my head out of her neck, a quizzical look on my face.

"To spend more time with you, help you through this bit of anxiety." She ran her fingers gently through my messy hair. "I'm sorry I haven't been here." She had a small frown on her face that I quickly kissed away.

"It's okay. I know you have multiple priorities, I can't expect you to be around all the time." I laughed softly, trying to make her feel a bit better.

"Okay." She smiled. "But if you ever feel this way at work again, remember, car crash." She held out her pinky, linking it with mine.

"Car crash."

[kkoga]

DO IT. DO THE HURT NO COMFORT. PLPSLSPLSPSLSPLS I LOVE ANGST!!!

-🎧

A/N : your wish is my command....

RAINY NIGHTS, sophia laforteza x fem!reader

Warning ! Hurt no comfort, toxic relationship, mentions of sensitive topics, not proofread

Disclaimer ! Everything written here is pure fiction. Every person is not a real portrayal of themselves.

Now playing ! Cologne by beabadobee

WC — I dont knkw bruh i wrote this and its 3 fucking am im not mentally sane lawl phones also 7 percent.

Synopsis ! After Sophia Laforteza fucks up multiple times, Y/n decides she's had enough. Time and time the girl had waited, but much to her dismay, all Sophia had done, was disappoint her.

Y/n shamefully exits the restaurant, feeling dozens of eyes on her. The girl had been waiting for her girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza, to show up to a date they've been planning for weeks now.

The first hour wasn't so bad. Maybe she had gotten stuck in traffic, or maybe she would be just a little late. The second hour was worse. At that point, waiters and waitresses had started asking her where her partner was. And what Y/n hated the most, was the fact that she had no answer to their questions.

Now here she was, after the fourth hour of waiting. It was currently 12 am, and much to the girl's luck, it had just started raining.

The girl could only sigh.

"What a great marvellous day! Not only does Sophia leave me waiting for our date, it starts raining right after I get kicked out! Absolutely hilarious!" Y/n mumbes to herself, tears beginning to well up.

"Maybe she just forgot. I mean, she's busy afterall..." The girl tried her best to convince herself that this was going to be a one time thing.

She was wrong.

Y/n bites her inner lip. It has been 2 hours since their designated sleepover. It's been weeks since Sophia had gone over to her house. So they'd been planning for a movie night. And tonight was that night. So why exactly has Sophia been ignoring her calls?

Y/n presses the call button once more, but to no avail, she was met with Sophia's voice mail for the nth time.

The popcorn was starting to get cold, and the ice cream was starting to melt. Y/n sighs. It's been two hours. Maybe she got caught up in an emergency schedule?

"Couldn't she just have told me...?" Y/n shakenly whispers to herself. This was the fourth time Sophia had stood her up this month alone.

Y/n begrudgingly placed the ice cream back in the fridge and seals the popcorn in a random container. The sound of rain keeping her grounded.

"It's okay. This will be the last time this happens."

Finally. Sophia had finally shown up to a hang out. Y/n had been waiting for the past month. The girl had greatly missed her girlfriend, and she hoped Sophia felt the same.

"Sophie! Hi!" Y/n ran up to Sophia, and hugged her as tight as she could. Afraid to let go, scared she might lose the one person able to cheer her up with a simple smile.

"Y/n! Baby! Hi, i missed you so much." Sophia hugged the girl back, and for a moment, Y/n thought,

"Finally. We're back to normal. Oh god, how I've missed my girl."

Y/n couldn't help the small but sweet smile that had formed.

It had been an hour since their hang out started, and apparently, Sophia had to go. Y/n felt sad, but knew it was her job, her dream. And Y/n would never get in the way of that.

As Sophia entered her car, Y/n bid goodbye to her girlfriend.

"Bye Sophie, miss you, and i love you." Y/n leans down for a cheek kiss, almost missing the unreadable expression Sophia had on her face.

"Yeah, bye." And with that, Sophia drives off to god knows where.

"No i love you too...? No... maybe she just forgot. It's fine." And suddenly, rain had started pouring. Y/n quickly ran for cover, but couldn't avoid looking like a somewhat wet puppy.

It was infact, not fine. It had been three months since that little mini date, and Sophia hadn't said the words "I love you". Atleast not without Y/n basically telling her to.

What went wrong? What did Y/n ever do? Did she offend Sophia? Did she do anything to form this... this gap between them?

Y/n felt so lost. So... confused. She was so sure she hadn't done anything. At least not anything she could remember. Well, she was going to find out tonight.

The door opens widely, in a swift manner. And in comes Sophia, sick and worried.

"Y/N, BABY, ARE YOU OKAY?? I came as soon as i got the text, I—" The panicked Sophia came in, expecting to see an injured or sick Y/n. But all she had found was Y/n sitting on the chair of one of her counters, with a stoic look on her face.

Sophia's breathe was heavy, like she had ran to get to Y/n's apartment.

"Why are you completely fine? You texted me it was an emergency Y/n, I was busy—!"

"Well, you always are, aren't you?" Y/n looks up to Sophia's eyes, and frustration begins to fill the Filipina.

"Excuse me? You know I'm constantly busy. For fucks sake, I'm an idol! You can't—"

"I know. I know what I signed up for, Laforteza. I know I'd never get in the way of your dreams. You would never even let me." Y/n gets off the stool, and faces her girlfriend.

"So what's your point! What, you call me here because you missed me? I was in a fucking meeting Y/n. With one of HYBE's officials!! Do you know how fucking important that is?" Sophia scratches her head in disbelief, her anger bubbling up faster than it ever has. Y/n sighs defeatedly.

"More important than me?"

Silence filled the apartment. What felt like hours were only a few measly seconds.

"The silence was more than enough, Laforteza. I'm tired. I am so fucking tired of you leaving me hanging. At first, it was a date here, a date there, but nowadays, it's like everything we plan just ends up with me waiting."

"But I'm trying Y/n! I'm trying my best for you, for my members, for my fucking dream. Why can't you just understand that?"

"Then answer this, Laforteza. When was the last time you had told me the words "I love you"? When was the last time you had willingly told me those three words."

Sophia tried to recollect, the Filipina had really tried her best. But the realization had hit her hard.

"Fucking THINK Laforteza. Give me a goddamned answer. When was the last time you had given me a sincere, loving, "I love you"?... ANSWER ME!"

"I... I can't remember...." Sophia had started tearing up. Why couldn't she fucking remember the last time she had said I love you to her own fucking girlfriend?

Y/n let out a laugh. But it wasn't the usual light and hearty laugh Sophia had always heard. This laugh sounded painful. It was like all of Y/n's vocal chords had suddenly forgotten what a laugh had sounded like.

After a few seconds, Y/n's laughing had turned into sobs.

"Do you know how many times I've had to shamefully walk out of a restaurant, or get kicked out? Sophia, everyone looked at me. Their eyes were so full of pity. The waiters and waitresses constantly checked up on me like I was some poor child, left behind by her mother. Countless times, Sophia. I endured it all, thinking it would be the last time."

Y/n's voice had started cracking, and the girl had made a face Sophia had never seen before. One filled with so much sadness, so much sorrow.

"But time and time again, you proved me wrong. Every date you stood up, every "I love you" left unanswered, destroyed me, Sophia."

"Baby... baby I'm so sorry, please—" Sophia tries to move closer to Y/n, but the girl pulls away.

"Don't. Don't ever call me baby ever again. You don't get the fucking right, Sophia."

"I'm so disappointed in you Sophia. I never thought you'd ever treat me this way. Your career may have excused a missing date or two. But seven in a row? Sophia, we've gone on three total dates for the past four month's. And we had planned seventeen. Seven fucking teen Sophia. You stood me up fourteen times, and that's only for the past four months."

"I.. please I'm so—"

"So let's end this."

"...what?"

This felt so surreal. Y/n had just asked her if they could end it. Sophia had felt her whole world crumble. She caused this? Has she really broken down the one person who had supported her through everything?

"No.. no, no we aren't. Please, just give me a chance to—"

"No, Laforteza. Get out. We're over."

Sophia laughs, hoping this was some sort of wicked sick dream.

"We aren't over Y/n. Please, I just—"

"We've been over for the past seven months, Laforteza. What we've had for those last few months was just me trying to keep us both on the same page. But a relationship requires two people. We can't keep going if your heart isn't in it, Laforteza."

Sophia couldn't help it. Her tears had burst out like there was no tomorrow. The girl hadn't cried like this for a long, long time.

"But.. but I need you Y/n, please..." At this point, the Filipina had gotten on her knees.

"No, you don't. Hell, you don't even want me. You just think you do. So please, get up and leave, before I say things I don't think I can take back."

"I can't just leave!"

"Yes you can. Leave. For the both of us, Sophie." The mention of her nickname was driving Sophia crazy.

"But I fucking love you Y/n!" .

Y/n looks at Sophia with a tired face.

"Do you really?"

Sophia looks at Y/n. A look of desperation displayed on her pretty face. Y/n hates how she's never going to see that face ever again. Hates how she's never going to kiss that pretty face to sleep ever again. Hates how those soft and comforting arms will never comfort her ever again. Hates how she will never wake up next to the love of her life ever again. Hates how Sophia will never be hers ever again. But she was okay with that. She knew it had to end one way or another. It was better this way.

And so, after more back and forth conversations, Sophia reluctantly leaves. Sophia closes the door, and Y/n locks it right after.

Y/n will never open up her heart for Sophia ever again. And the latter knows that. They were over. They were really over. Neither could believe it. The two fall to their knees, on opposite sides of the door. The sound of heavy rain masking the others cries.

Guess rainy nights were never their thing.

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 8: Bleeding Out

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

a/n3: sorry Pierre but I’m not gonna give you the perfect no damages season that you had

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 2,193,429 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, redbullracing

y/n_rb: what a year it’s been…from car crashes to new girlfriends to lessons in menacing, 2024 you have been a dream!

I want to thank Redbull for taking a chance on me — hopefully I was worth it! Max, you have been absolutely the best teammate I could have asked for! Oscar and Logan, I am so glad we got to fulfill our dream of racing together this year! And Mr. Fenando sir it’s been a pleasure! I’ll make sure to make use of all of your advice!

One last race left! Abu Dhabi here we come!

view all comments

user1: anyone else catching those threatening tones in that last sentence??

↳y/n_rb: what tones???

↳user2: the very sweet tones you always talk in!

↳y/n_rb: that’s better!

↳user1: girl you’re kinda scary…

↳y/n_rb: 😁😁😁

oscarpiastri: you’re being suspiciously nice…what did you do!

↳logansargeant: why is my mom calling me!?! What did you do!!

↳y/n_rb: 😁😁

↳oscarpiastri: did you seriously call our mothers to plan a group vacation?

↳logansargeant: I want to use winter break as a time to get away from you! Stop invading my family time!

↳nicolepiastri: boys please be nicer to y/n! She was so kind to invite us on a European trip this winter!

↳oscarpiastri: stop trying to steal my mom!!

↳y/n_rb: who’s trying? I already won liked by nicolepiastri, hattiepiastri

↳oscarpiastri: I’m throwing things at you 🍎🛞🪨

user3: girl don’t remind us you haven’t been resigned yet 😭😭

user4: sooo did you like take actual notes from Alonso’s lessons or…

↳y/n_rb: if I told you, I’d have to kill you

↳redbullracing: y/n you can’t say that. please refer to the handbook, page 229

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Puede que ella no pueda pero yo lo haré. She might be able to but I will.

↳user5: i can’t believe we all forgot about her grid father 🙈 liked by y/n_rb

maxverstappen1: It certainly was…an experience…having you as a teammate

↳y/n_rb: don’t lie! I know I’m your favorite

↳danielricciardo: those are fighting words!

↳y/n_rb: bring it old man Aussie!! I bite

↳danielricciardo: stop calling me old! And threatening to bite me

↳oscarpiastri: it’s not a threat — she does

↳user6: if Daniel is old man Aussie — what are Oscar and Mark?

↳y/n_rb: baby Aussie and ancient Aussie

↳user6: 😂😂😂

↳aussiegrit: kid…

↳oscarpiastri: do you see what I have to put up with? redbullracing please don’t resign her

↳y/n_rb: well that’s fucking rude!

↳redbullracing: 🫢🫢🫢

↳y/n_rb: wait what does that mean?!?

francisca.cgomes: Mon amour! My love!

↳y/n_rb: run away with me

↳pierregasly: I’m gonna run you over

↳y/n_rb: try it!

alexandrasaintmleux: Ce fut un plaisir de faire votre connaissance cette année! It was a pleasure to get to know you this year!

↳y/n_rb: my offer still stands! I can treat you so much better

↳charles_leclerc: S'en aller! Go away!

↳alexandrasaintmleux:😘😘

↳charles_leclerc: Alex…

↳y/n_rb: haha

user7: I’ll certainly miss you terrorizing everyone…

↳y/n_rb: even if I’m not a driver, I’ll still be doing that!

↳charles_leclerc: fuck

↳pierregasly: non

↳oscarpiastri: please no

↳y/n_rb: 😁😁

f1

liked by user, user, user and 3,723,183 others

tagged: pierregasly, y/n_rb

f1: and that’s major contact between redbullracing’s y/n_rb and alpinef1team’s pierregasly. This is not the first time this season these 2 have crashed together. The race is currently under red flag as the marshals work to clear the track of debris.

view all comments

user8: of course it was those 2…

user9: they couldn’t resist one last crash to finish off the season could they…

user10: it’s taking a while for the marshals to remove them from the car isn’t it?

↳user11: yeah…it doesn’t usually take this long unless something has happened…

↳user12: god I hope they’re both alright…

user13: did they have to bring in extra medical cars???

↳user14: they did — it’s not looking good…

↳user13: fuck

f1gossippage

liked by user, user, user, and 1,923,284 others

f1gossippage: during the beginning laps of Abu Dhabi - y/n l/n and Pierre Gasly made contact that resulted in a red flag. After a lengthy delay, extra medical cars were called to the site of the crash where both l/n and Gasly were cut from their cars. They were both rushed from the scene — it looked like they were bleeding out pretty badly…

view all comments

user15: I was right above them — it did NOT look good but they were both seemingly conscious

↳user16: Jesus…at least they were conscious?

↳user17: that is a good sign (I think)

user18: has anyone official said anything?

↳user20: not that I could tell but the race has been started again…

user21: I can’t even imagine going out again to race after seeing that crash

↳user22: those drivers are stronger than me for real

user23: listening to their radios right now — everyone keeps asking for updates on them!

↳user24: are they getting updates?

↳user23: everyone is being told that there are no updates yet

↳user24: ugh…

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @Voidvannie @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @yawn-zi

[togetherness23]

“edward is a boring character” that’s your loss bc i think he’s the most intriguing character ever

[durgeapologist]

Let's Talk About Ir Abelas, Da'ean

As some of you may know, I am vehemently against the dishonest use of AI in fandom and creative spaces. It has been brought to my attention by many, many people (and something I myself have thought on many times) that there is a DreadRook fic that is super popular and confirmed to be written at least partially with AI. I have the texts to prove it was written (at least) with the help of the Grammarly Rewrite generative feature.

Before I go any further, let it be known I was friends with this author; their use of rewrite features is something they told me and have told many other people who they have shared their fic with. It is not however, at the time of posting this, tagged or mentioned on their fic on AO3, in any capacity. I did in fact reach out to the author before making this post. They made absolutely no attempt to agree to state the use of Rewrite AI on their fic, nor be honest or upfront (in my opinion) about the possibility of their fic being complete generative AI. They denied the use of generative AI as a whole, though they did confirm (once again) use of the rewrite feature on Grammarly.

That all said: I do not feel comfortable letting this lie; since I have been asked by many people to make this, this post is simply for awareness.

You can form your own opinion, if you wish to. In fact, I encourage you to do such.

Aside from the, once again, high volume word output of around 352K words in less than 3 months (author says they had 10 chapters pre-written over "about a month" before they began posting; they are also on record saying they can write 5K-10K daily) from November until now, I have also said if you are familiar with AI services or peruse AI sites like ChatGPT, C.AI, J.AI, or any others similar to these, AI writing is very easy to pick out.

After some intense digging, research, and what I believe to be full confirmation via AI detection software used by professional publishers, there is a large and staggering possibility that the fic is almost entirely AI generated, bar some excerpts and paragraphs, here and there. I will post links below of the highly-resourced detection software that a few paragraphs and an entire chapter from this fic were plugged into; you are more than welcome to do with this information what you please.

I implore you to use critical thinking skills, and understand that when this many pieces in a work come back with such a high percentage of AI detected, that there is something going on. (There was a plethora of other AI detection softwares used that also corroborate these findings; I only find it useful to attach the most reputable source.)

Excerpts:

82% Likely Written by AI, 4% Plagiarism Match

98% Likely Written by AI, 2% Plagiarism Match

100% Likely Written by AI, 4% Plagiarism Match

Some excerpts do in fact come back as 100% likely written by human; however, this does not mean that the author was not using the Grammarly Paraphrase/Rewrite feature for these excerpts.

The Grammarly Paraphrase/Rewrite feature does not typically clock as AI generative text, and alongside the example below, many excerpts from other fics were take and put through this feature, and then fed back into the AI detection software. Every single one came back looking like this, within 2% of results:

So, in my opinion, and many others, this goes beyond the use of the simple paraphrase/rewrite feature on Grammarly.

Entire Chapter (Most Recent):

67% Likely Written by AI

As well, just for some variety, another detection software that also clocked plagiarism in the text:

15% Plagiarism Match

To make it clear that I am not simply 'jealous' of this author or 'angry' at their work for simply being a popular work in the fandom, here are some excerpts from other fanfics in this fandom and in other fandoms that were ran through the same exact same detection software, all coming back as 100% human written. (If you would like to run my fic through this software or any others, you are more than welcome to. I do not want to run the risk of OP post manipulation, so I did not include my own.)

The Wolf's Mantle

100% Likely Human Written, 2% Plagiarism Match

A Memory Called Desire

99% Likely Human Written

Brand Loyalty

100% Likely Human Written

Heart of The Sun

98% Likely Human Written

Whether you choose to use AI in your own fandom works is entirely at your own discretion. However, it is important to be transparent about such usage.

AI has many negative impacts for creatives across many mediums, including writers, artists, and voice actors.

If you use AI, it should be tagged as such, so that people who do not want to engage in AI works can avoid engaging with it if they wish to.

ALL LINKS AND PICTURES COURTESY OF: @spiritroses

[scentedluminarysoul]

SOMETIMES IT'S ON PURPOSE OKAY I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S CALLED BUT SOMETIMES YOU REPEAT THE SAME WORD OR PHRASE ON PURPOSE IT'S A STYLISTIC CHOICE

Ahem. Also. You don't need to thesaurus every word. It's fine if you call a table a table multiple times

Honestly, writing has become so complicated and everyone's a critic and don't you DARE use the same word twice or start a sentence with "he" twice in a row!

Can we go back to actually caring about SUBSTANCE? About what it's trying to tell you?

I'm currently reading Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None" from 1939. It's written so SIMPLY and yet it's so good and just effective in what it does.

Do you know how often it says "(character name) said:" and then just the dialogue? That's the vast majority of how her dialogues work. Simple, easy to understand, no confusion as to who's talking.

It's not fancy, and yet she's one of the best writers to have ever existed

I mean, look at this:

It's just a simple dialogue that keeps going like that.

One of the most repeated writing advices you read is "make your dialogue interesting", like give characters something to in between tags, etc.

But lads—this dialogue is interesting in and of itself. It's intriguing. Why would they also need to juggle chainsaws or low the lawn or whatever?

And the dialogue tag Christie uses most often is "said". Simply "said". Because it doesn't need more.

Here and there are a few hints as to how the characters are feeling ("angrily", "dryly", "after a minute or two"), but it's your job as a reader to UNDERSTAND and INTERPRET them, to THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE READING.

And I think that's the big problem nowadays: people don't want to think about it anymore. TikTok girlies brag about reading 3 books a day, but they don't UNDERSTAND them. That much is clear when you listen to them talk about books

And this is also what people mean that you should read when you want to become a writer. Because you can read all the writing tips ever online, but that will only make you go insane and insecure.

READ and you will see how they're applied. Or not. And even then the book is still good

And no book is perfect or even good from start to finish. There will be dull moments, or misses in even the best books

And you need to see those flaws in order to become a writer

I forgot about that myself.

The key to writing well isn't to use the best and most interesting words perfectly

It's to use the words you have effectively.

Sorry OP, didn't need to rant

But sometimes all these clever "writing tips to become a better writer" are really missing what's truly makes a good writer:

The heart

Of you only count how many times someone used the same word in a paragraph, instead of trying to understand what that paragraph is telling you, you don't care about the art of writing

Actually you CAN use the same word twice in the same paragraph. The same sentence even. If it's funny, if it's for emphasis, if it's harping on a theme, if you're sexy and you do whatever you want forever. Write on

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part two)

kms masterlist | <- part one | part three (soon) ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, y/n being an awkward mess, subtle and indirect mention of sexual themes

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron's intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and y/n's mind? that shit was even more tangled. but she hadn't spent seven years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through her fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: y/n and rafe were paired up for a 2 week-long art project. they agreed to meet during lunch break to start working on it. after y/n picked him up after PE, they headed for the school’s dining hall.

word count: 3.3k+

a/n: i don't have much to say for this one as it's just an immediate continuation of the last one but i'm very thankful for the likes and comments on the first part. i didn't expect any at all so a big thank you to everyone who decided to support <3 i hope you also enjoy this one as well :) (also super excited when i’ll get to future parts where y/n gets to be more silly :3)

Important: I started using dividers after chat convos that include more than one screenshot, so you guys know when to switch back to the written story. Yk you usually click on the image to get a full-screen mode to read the messages easier, so whenever the blue rectangle image pops up, you know when to back out. Makes it easier to avoid potential spoilers, hope that makes sense :P

The dining hall at Kildare Academy was moderately full. Most students’ classes were already over, and a lot of Kooks went to the restaurants down the street, even though the serving station offered fresh high-quality food.

Okay, fries weren’t exactly healthy but they probably made them from potatoes grown specifically for Kooks (yes, as a Kook yourself, you were their biggest hater).

Whatever. The dining hall wasn’t the reason your heart was about to explode in your chest.

No. You were having lunch.

With. Rafe. Cameron.

If someone had told you this morning, you would’ve laughed.

Because, hello??? Rafe had been your crush since you’d first set foot in Kildare Academy in fifth grade.

Okay, not exactly special—what Figure 8 girl hadn’t had a crush on Rafe at some point?

But that wasn’t the point. This whole ... thing just felt so surreal.

A crush had always been just that—a crush. You weren’t the type to walk up to a guy and say, Hey, you’re cute, let’s go on a date. That would mean putting yourself out there and making yourself vulnerable.

And the last thing you ever wanted was to be seen.

Not in a physical way. That was unavoidable. No, what scared you was someone actually seeing you, the parts of yourself you kept locked away.

Ew, that sounded so fucking dramatic.

So while your 11-year-old self was doing backflips of joy, your 18-year-old self was having a full-blown existential crisis.

Okay, maybe not that bad.

“You were right,” Rafe said, pulling you from your thoughts. He was sitting across from you, pushing his fork through his quinoa-veggie bowl.

You eyed him confused. “About what?”

Rafe nodded toward your fries, the corner of his lips tugging into a subtle smile. “I am a fries guy. Quinoa tastes like shit and rocks.”

You glanced at his bowl before meeting his gaze again, a knowing smile on your face. “I guess it’s the color. Red and black ones are usually more bitter and more firm than their white counterparts.”

Rafe raised a brow, amused. “As a quinoa expert, you could’ve warned me.”

Your cheeks heated. You kind of had, with that dumb joke outside the gym earlier. “I thought you already knew what it tasted like.”

“I do,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his bowl anyway. “Maybe I just didn’t want you to label me as the fries guy.”

Wait—was that a joke? And why did he care what you thought about him?

God, I suck at whatever this is.

So you just forced a chuckle and took a sip of your water.

…

…

...

Shit.

Now there was that awkward silence you always dreaded in conversations.

Okay, okay, stay calm.

Should I say something? Should I offer him my fries?

You almost laughed. Hell no, that’d be so weird. Plus the quinoa part of his bowl didn’t even take up a third of the whole meal.

You wished Cara were here. She’d know exactly what to say and how to act. She went on dates all the time, made out with guys at parties just for fun, and could hold a normal fucking conversation with a guy she was interested in.

“So, you like… a real artist or something?” Rafe asked absentmindedly, breaking the unbearable silence. “Since you picked Art as an elective?”

You looked up, quickly swallowing the bite of fries in your mouth before giving him a nervous smile. “Yeah, I mean—no, I wouldn’t call myself a real artist, not like Da Vinci or such.” You let out an awkward laugh. “I just draw sometimes when I’m bored.”

Jesus Christ, did he have to look at you like that? His blue eyes were drilling into your entire existence.

Rafe nodded. “Digital or traditional?”

You blinked at him, stunned.

How the fuck did Frat Boy Rafe Cameron know the difference between digital and traditional art?

Your expression made him smirk. And as if he had read your thoughts, he said, “My little sister Wheezie draws random shit on her iPad all the time.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, figured it was a thing—”

“No, I mean—yes, totally,” you blurted, immediately turning red because you just cut him off. “Most people start with pencil and paper but drawing on a tablet or iPad is just as legit. Um… so, yeah … I do both, to answer your question.” You smiled awkwardly.

Help, he would’ve had a more entertaining conversation with a rock.

Rafe barely raised a brow, a lazy smile on his lips. “It’s cool that you draw. Guess I got lucky having you as my partner for this project.”

WHAT.

Okay, everything’s chill.

NO, NOTHING WAS CHILL.

Is he flirting with me??? Is he just being nice ??? WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS MEAN.

What were you even supposed to reply to that?

Hahaha, thanks, did you know I made our Sims get married in eighth grade? Topper was your best man by the way.

WHAT THE FUCK, NO, STOP.

Whatever, just say something. Anything.

“Thanks,” you mumbled with an embarrassed smile, eyes fixed on your fries and salad.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Rafe lean back, pushing his half-eaten bowl aside. He shrugged. “Only sucks for you. Art’s not really my thing.”

No shit.

Also, what was that supposed to mean? Was he fishing for a compliment? Like Aww, no, come on, I’m sure you’re great at it.

Holy shit. Was Rafe Cameron secretly a pick-me guy? Were all these years crushing on him wasted?

“Yeah, I figured. Most people just take art class thinking it’ll be an easy A”, you said before he could say more and give you the ick.

OH my god, take it back, take it back—

When you saw his expression, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back. He looked… surprised? Confused? Maybe a little offended…?

Then the tension in his face eased. His lips twitched slightly before curving into a lopsided grin, making him look unexpectedly boyish.

“Shit, yeah. Guess that makes me ‘most people’”, he said with such ease, it was like you hadn’t just called him out.

How the hell did he manage to turn all your miserable attempts at a normal conversation into something so smooth? If you were in his place, you would've already walked out and dropped art class.

Yo, Mr Smith, this chick you paired me up with, she’s got the social skills of a dead fish.

This was so frustrating. It wasn’t like you were socially incompetent—not really—but around him, your brain just seemed to completely shut down.

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, furrowing your brows, annoyed at your own nervousness.

“Nah, it’s true,” Rafe replied, shrugging. Then he looked at you, a teasing edge in his voice. “So, if your art grade tanks, you know who to blame.”

Okayyy, he was either trying to get on your good side or looking for a smooth way out of this project—and you weren’t sure which was worse.

You swallowed your last fry and gave a chuckle. I sound like a fake ass bitch. “I’m sure you'll manage. Art is not about drawing perfectly — it’s more about the ideas and how you approach them.”

Jesus, you sounded just like Mr. Smith.

Rafe’s lips twitched into a cocky smirk. “Alright, then I guess you’ll have to help me be more creative.”

...

HUH?

OKAY. I MEAN SURE.

Be for fucking real, did he even realize what his words did to you?

Of course, he did—he probably flirted with girls daily. Or was he just lucky to be born with full charisma stats?

Probably both.

God, this was so embarrassing. Your face probably screamed HI CAN YOU MARRY ME, and to him, you were just some random Kook girl he was stuck with for a boring art project.

Okay, wait no.

Now YOU sounded like a pick-me.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” you said, cheeks pink, before clearing your throat to change the subject. “Okay, so… maybe we should start brainstorming some ideas? Like a mind map or mood board or something?”

Rafe leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table, and you had to fight the urge to glance at his biceps which flexed slightly as he moved. “Mood board? You talking about Pinterest type shit?”

Okay, wow, Rafe was absolutely not the type of guy you thought he was. Did he know about this stuff from Wheezie? Or some friends-with-benefits girlie?

Um, no, Y/N, none of your business.

You gave him a quick nod. “Yeah, something like that. We can also just start by writing stuff down.”

Rafe shrugged in agreement. “Okay.”

Okay.

He looked at you expectantly.

Ugh, did he really expect YOU to be the one taking notes?

Well, crush or not, he was still just a guy, after all.

You reached for the iPad in your bag, grabbed the Apple Pencil, and opened the Notes app.

As you scribbled down today’s date and gave the note a title, Rafe leaned in even closer, glancing at your screen. “Is this the iPad you use for drawing?”

He was so close now, his woody-aquatic aftershave filling your nose, giving you a strange feeling in your chest … and a very special part in your lower body.

“Yeah,” you replied shortly.

“Show me something then.”

“No.”

HUH?

“No?” Rafe’s gaze flicked from the screen to your flushed face, his lips curling into a crooked grin. There was a cocky glimmer in his gaze.

Good heavens, up close his eyes looked even more beautiful. They were the kind of blue people wrote bad poetry about. To you, they were a pretty contradiction—cold in color, warm in the way they lingered on your own eyes.

Heart racing, you looked away and laughed nervously. “I mean… maybe we should focus on the project first, you know, time pressure and all.”

With an amused scoff, Rafe leaned back again, glancing at his phone (wow, rude) for a second before saying, “To the boring part then."

Somehow it felt like you'd scratched his ego.

Girl, how could you mess up this badly? He probably thought you were some pretentious nerd now.

“So… do you have any ideas?” You twirled the Apple Pencil in your fingers, just praying for this painfully long lunch break to end.

Rafe pressed his lips together, scratching his jaw. The glass of his Rolex reflected a spectrum of lights under the ceiling’s lights. “Uh… dunno. What’s the prompt again? A modern take on the Greek gods?”

“A reinterpretation,” you corrected — then realizing you sounded like a know-it-all, so you quickly added, “but yeah, a modern version could definitely count.”

He nodded absentmindedly, fingers drumming on the table. “Okay, so…", he gave a dry laugh and ran a hand over his face. "Shit, what a stupid prompt."

You chewed the inner part of your cheeks. Okay, he clearly had zero interest in spending his free period working on some elective class’ project with you.

But it had been his idea to meet during lunch, you reminded yourself.

Forcing a smile, you offered, “We can always do this later. We still have two weeks.”

Rafe raised a brow. “You got plans or something?”

Oh. Guess that didn’t go over well.

You shook your head. “No, but if you’re not feeling it—”

“I’m not,” he cut in, his fingers stopping their steady rhythm against the table. “But we’re already here, so.”

That didn’t sound very motivated.

“Yeah, I guess”, you said, cringing at the sudden bitterness in your tone.

By the shift in Rafe’s expression, he must have noticed but before he had a chance to comment on it, you quickly picked up on what he’d said earlier. “So, a modern version of Olympus sounds fun. Maybe we can make it about the gods’ roles in today’s society or something like that.”

Rafe eyed you quietly, his expression impossible to read. He then tilted his head, scratching his nose. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe Zeus as the CEO of Olympus Industries or some shit. He’s the big boss, right? And everyone else just kinda works for him.”

Your lips curled into a soft smile. A corporate structure? Why were you not surprised.

“What?” He looked genuinely confused.

You shook your head, cheeks heating up again. “Nothing, that’s… that’s good.”

He raised his brows, a challenging tone in his voice. “You think it’s crap.”

“No,” you replied quickly, then adopted a more serious expression. “Really, it’s a nice take. Maybe his wife — Hera I mean — could be his girl boss PR manager, always cleaning up his scandals?”

A grin tugged at his lips, and with that, the weird tension in the air seemed to fade. “Shit, isn’t she also his sister? Well, yeah, guess she’s gotta cover up his dozen affairs. That guy’s a huge player.”

Okay, real talk—where did he get all this information from? He really didn’t seem like the guy to be interested in greek mythology.

It was cute though.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You seem to be an expert in this field.”

He scoffed amused, leaning back into his chair. His eyes mustered you with a strange mix of entertainment and irritation. “You think I'm a fuckboy or some shit?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Huh? What did he mean—

…

Did he-- ... OH SHIT.

A revolting feeling spread in your stomach and your cheeks probably invented a new shade of red.

WHY ON EARTH HAD YOU PHRASED IT LIKE THAT?!

Some evil gods or spirits must be messing with you right now because there was no way this situation could get any more awkward.

Frantically, you shook your head. “What? I… oh my god, no. NO! I was referring to the Greek gods. Not… you don’t give off such vibes. I mean, it’s none of my business anyway.”

Hey, if there’s a sniper out there, please take me out.

In your mind, you already estimated the cost of moving to another country. Canada had pretty landscapes and New Zealand--

A laugh escaped his lips — cocky, yet carrying a certain warmth. It made your heart stop and race at the same time.

“Relax,” he said bemused, leaning forward with his arms crossed, biceps flexing again. “People have said worse things to my face.”

No, this didn’t sit right with you.

You shook your head again, daring to meet his eyes. “No, I’m serious, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just … surprised about your knowledge of Greek mythology.” You froze, realizing this also sounded stupid. “Not that I took you for clueless…” Shit. You sighed. “It was stupid of me to phrase it like that and I don’t want you to think I take you for a fuckboy. It’s a shitty term anyway.”

Your nerves were going crazy and you fidgeted with the case of your iPad, waiting for his response.

Rafe silently STARING at you didn’t help at all. He seemed … surprised, maybe a little perplexed even.

SAY SOMETHING PLEASE.

“Alright”, he finally said, his usual cocky expression returning to his face. He slightly shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze for just a second but long enough for you to notice. “Guess I picked up a bit from Wheezie when she had to do a presentation for school or whatever. She couldn't shut up about it. Shit was annoying as hell.”

For a moment, you didn't know what to respond. Why wasn't he offended? Why didn't he mock you for being so awkward?

You smiled, trying to relax your nerves. “Sounds like we could use her little expert knowledge on this project.”

Rafe gave a low chuckle. “Well, I believe we’ve already got a little expert right here”, he said with a crooked smile, his eyes burning a hole into your soul.

Oh. My. God.

The teasing edge in his voice made your brain shut down. This had to count as flirting, right? RIGHT?!

You chuckled nervously, cheeks a deep shade of red, and placed the Apple Pencil back on the screen. “Then I hope whatever I picked up from reading Percy Jackson will be enough.“

That's it, Y/N, you are officially banned from doing any more jokes.

-----------------------------------------------

In English class, you could finally breathe again.

Your suffering was over.

During the rest of the lunch break, Rafe and you had talked about some more ideas. Gladly, you hadn’t embarrassed yourself any further (if that was even possible because you’d definitely reached your peak today).

At the end of lunch, Topper had picked him up and they’d left for their own English class. Your goodbyes had been a little awkward but you’d managed.

Right now, you were grateful they didn’t attend the same class as you because you certainly didn’t want to listen to them laughing about what a weird ass person you were.

Okay, just breathe. I did it, it’s over.

You tried to concentrate on whatever Mrs. Andrade was talking about but only half the students truly paid attention.

Afternoons in the Outer Banks truly were a cruel thing.

So you decided to check your phone:

Sighing quietly, you put your phone away and rubbed your temples. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, yet at the same time, it felt so empty.

Maybe I'm lucky and tomorrow I’ll wake up to a big newsflash: This just came in, Kildare Academy was reduced to ashes by a sudden fire.

But when had you ever been lucky?

Your phone buzzed again but you really didn’t feel like talking and thinking about Rafe anymore.

This guy had thrown you off track in just an hour but in the best and worst way possible.

And even though every part of you wanted to run from the thought of seeing him again — the way that uncomfortable feeling in your chest wouldn’t let up — there was still a small part of you that found yourself oddly eager to see him again, work with him on that stupid little project and listen to his stupid little laugh.

Because somehow in just sixty minutes you’d learned more about Rafe Cameron than you had in nearly seven years at Kildare Academy.

For instance, he was a lot kinder than you’d expected. Not that you’d ever thought he was like a high school movie bully or some shit but his occasional soft smiles and the way he didn't mock you when you'd said some stupid shit had definitely surprised you.

Plus he seemed to care about his little sister which was such an attractive attribute (and the bare minimum let's be honest).

All of this was so strange.

It sounded stupid but Rafe Cameron had always been just a concept to you. A crush you enjoyed looking at and maybe making up your own little idea of (and some scenarios to fall asleep to be for real).

But now he was... real and—

Bzzrt.

Seriously, Cara had class too—and with Ms. Langford, no less. And unlike Mrs. Andrade, she wasn’t exactly chill.

You picked up your phone again, expecting some delusional text messages—but the moment you saw the notification on your lock screen, your heart stopped.

No fucking way.

NO. FUCKING. WAY.

Holding your breath, you unlocked your phone, and the second your eyes landed on the profile picture, your heart took off in a full sprint. You didn’t even register Mrs. Andrade calling your name.

Because by some strange twist of fate, Rafe Cameron had gotten your number and decided to text you—after what you were sure had been your ultimate humiliation today.

You didn’t know whether to grin, cheer, or jump out of your seat—shit, maybe all three—but instead, you just sat there, wondering if there really was a god of luck and if he’d just decided to bless you.

-----------------------------------------------

kms masterlist | <- part one | part three (soon) ->

-----------------------------------------------

Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee

[cookierunoutofideas]

Just Make More Dragons (Longan Dragon Cookie/Fem! Reader) [SMUT]

“I mean, if you want the age of dragons to return, shouldn’t you just... I dunno, make more dragons or something?”

“Are you volunteering?”

Warnings: no beta we die like elder faerie, smut, PWP, probably out of character, probably not all that well written, neutral pronouns for Longan Dragon Cookie, oviposition, breeding, mating, double dicks, Longan Dragon has some sort of aphrodisiac pheromones that I honestly don't care to explain I just wanted to use the fact that longan fruit apparently smells sweet and is used for relaxation–

Read at your own risk!

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

“I mean, if you want the age of dragons to return, shouldn’t you just... I dunno, make more dragons or something?”

“Are you volunteering?”

Maybe you didn’t think it through before opening your mouth, but, then again, it’s hard to think when Longan Dragon Cookie is looming over you, eyes piercing yours for daring to direct your pathetic cookie voice their direction.

Honestly, not a single part of your current situation makes thinking an easy task. Out of all cookies and out of all places, it shouldn’t be you standing in the lair of the Ivory Dragon. Even if it was originally your idea to do something to distract the guy so the others could regroup and plan the next step to prevent the extinction of all cookie kind, you didn’t mean it had to be leaving you behind! It’s all Pitaya’s fault for throwing you at the pissed white dragon and leaving to lick their wounds somewhere, when you get your hands on that damn lizard-

“You haven’t answered, weak one.”

“I... I mean...” you stammer, taking a shaky step back, but they follow without much effort because, again, Longan Dragon is so damn tall.

You repeat that clumsy dance a few more times, quickly, eyes anywhere but the dragon. While you’re thankful they haven’t killed you yet, you’d rather not test your luck by sticking too close. Though it seems they don’t get the memo, meeting every step with one of their own, an oppressive waltz that ends with you against a hard wall.

“I wouldn’t dare suggest that! I’m just a lowly cookie!” you frantically wave your hands, fear running through your dough. Maybe if you act humble enough, they won’t crumble you for another few hours.

Damn it, Ginger Brave and gang, come faster!

Longan Dragon shortens the distance between you two, forcing you to lean your head back as much as you can to avoid touching their chest with your forehead.

Oh, they smell oddly sweet.

What a rich scent.

And their hands are so big, sharing their warmth—so far, all dragons you’ve met are pretty warm, must be a dragon thing—with your cheeks as they lift your face.

The sweet smell of fruit envelops you, relaxing your muscles without your permission. Not that you’re trying to fight the sudden wave of calm that hits you, no, you’re greedily breathing in all sensations, even the sensation of a much larger body pressing you against the wall, the difference in temperatures on your front and back making your breath hitch. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but tension pressing down your back that the small respite brings too much relief to your body and soul.

Then a thumb presses on your lower lip and you remember just where you are. And with who.

You open your eyes with a loud gasp, trying to free your body—and fuzzy mind—from the Ivory Dragon’s claws, but they don’t budge. No, they seem pleased.

“What...” you swallow saliva you hadn’t even noticed filling your mouth. “... are you doing?”

“A mate presents so willingly to be bred,” the dragon purrs—literally, you can feel the vibrations, “and responds to me so eagerly, what is this one to do other than claim them?”

Whatever happens between that low growl and your back meeting soft silken sheets simply doesn’t register in your memory. After all, the sweet scent filling your nose and the maddening kiss stealing your breath make remembering anything else difficult.

Longan Dragon Cookie’s body is hot and heavy on yours, their tongue insistent and their hands adventurous. Gone is the quiet intensity that made the Ivory Dragon a suffocating yet majestic presence, in its place is fervour you simply can’t comprehend, urgency and hunger and desire and want and need—oh, you can’t help but tug at their ivory strands, making them as messy as the kisses you two share. They growl, animalistic, finally acting like one would expect a dragon, instinct guiding them into manhandling you until your clothes are ripped off, exposed—offered to them.

You don’t bother to muffle your voice as sharp teeth finds the soft dough around your nipples. The dragon seems to like that, too, making sure to bite and suck and lick whatever place gives them the louder, needier noises. They move down your body, giving special attention to your navel, to where your womb rests, marking you with claws and fangs. Your vagina pulsates when they look up at you, locking eyes as they lick, long and slow, up the valley of your breasts. It’s so hypnotizing that you barely notice the sharp claws rubbing against your clit and folds, the danger making your toes tingle.

“This-” you gasp, pulling at their long hair—beautiful, like all of the dragon. “Keep... keep them outta me...”

“Do you think me foolish to risk hurt the one who’ll carry my eggs?”

“Eggs?!”

And the bastard only chuckles! A deep, rich sound that comes from the depths of their lungs, a sound no one ever thought the Ivory Dragon capable of. Feeling annoyed, you quickly hoist yourself up and do the unthinkable: you sink your teeth on the Ivory Dragon’s neck, completely forgetting that a dragon’s dough is much more resistant than a normal cookie’s. You can barely move your jaw, your tongue touching the smooth scales curiously.

Longan Dragon Cookie pulls you away from their neck with one harsh tug to the back of your neck, and for a second you fear that you’ve finally crossed the line and won’t see the next sunrise... but then they purr—or growl? Hard to tell—and oh.

They smile, predatory and pleased.

“A weak little cookie won’t be able to mark my scales, little mate,” they rumble, shuffling a bit until their robes fall off their shoulders. “But go ahead and try still.”

They bring you to another kiss with the hand on your neck, thrusting their hips on your unclothed pussy, allowing you to feel what awaits.

There’s two of them, your brain figures, there’s no way that bulge is only one dick.

There absolutely is two of them.

You watch as the rest of their robes fall off their body. It is like watching the most wondrous sculpture be revealed, like the ultimate piece of art finally leaves its artist’s studio to grace the world with its existence. Here is a being no one could ever dare deny their beauty, doing so would be to boldly lie to an omniscient god’s face.

And there are two dicks standing proudly, already leaking at the anticipation of  tearing you apart.

Because that’s what going to happen, you’re sure. The one on the top is thicker while the one bellow is thinner, but they’re both far too much for a little normal cookie such as you. Longan Dragon Cookie, however, seems to care not—in fact, they seem to simply believe you can take it, take all they give you... which may or may not include eggs. Eggs.

“Wait!” you yelp, pulling at their hair, undoing whatever held it up and out of their way. To your surprise, Longan Dragon does listen, halting their clawed attack at your hips. “You- this- won’t fit!”

“They shall,” they simply answer, pressing another kiss to your navel before finally giving your wet folds—when did you get so wet?—their attention. “I shall make them.”

One long lick to your folds stops whatever protests you still have, instead freeing a long moan. Oh, their tongue is forked. Of course it is, they are a dragon, dragons have forked tongues, why wouldn’t the Ivory Dragon have a forked tongue—and why wouldn’t the Ivory Dragon be so good at using it?

Keeping their words, the claws stay away from you sensitive genitalia, instead drawing scratch lines one your thighs, some even painted blood red. The pain stings just enough to add to the pleasure the tongue stretching and exploring you gives. Giving up any sort of hesitance, you give in to your odd situation, enjoying with abandon the dragon’s ministrations until the knot built inside your tummy snaps and you cum the hardest you’ve ever done, pulling at ivory hair and squeezing a beautiful face between your legs.

Though despite that incredible orgasm, you still don’t feel satiated.

No, part of you still feels empty, craving more of the sweetness coming from your... your lover? No, what was it the dragon called you earlier—mate. Your mate.

As if feeling your desire, Longan Dragon Cookie crawls over your body, still licking their lips and chin to savour every drop of your juices, resting on top of you like a giant, warm cover. Strong arms hold you against a hard chest, prompting you to brace your arms around their neck and sink your nails on their back—thankfully, the scales don’t cover their cookie form completely, so you actually have a chance of scratching them, marking them.

If you could purr at that thought, you would.

Instead, you gasp as a fat cockhead pokes your entrance. Longan Dragon Cookie isn’t exactly gentle—the many bleeding marks all over your body show that pretty well—but they’re considerate enough to stop and wait every time you show signs of pain. Once the thicker cock is inside, they start moving in slow, deliberate circles, still holding you to their chest, giving you no chance to escape the addicting scent of their dough.

Not that you want to.

No, you want to drown in it. You want to be covered in that scent, suffocated in it, buried within it.

The stretch of the second penis entering you makes you whimper, but you can’t tell if it is from pain or pleasure—nor do you care, really. Not when your mate rocks the both of you steadily, thrusts slow but hard, resolute, hitting every spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back, kissing the entrance of your womb. It’s so hot, it’s too hot and you want more more more more!

“As you wish, little mate” the dragon growls in your ear, the breathlessness of their voice causing shivers to run down your back. “I will breed you round.”

Let no one ever say the Ivory Dragon doesn’t keep their word.

You whine your agreement, pleading for whatever they will give you. Something inside you had snapped into place earlier; suddenly, you are exactly where you should be, exactly with who you should be. Nothing else comes to mind but the one making you feel so good, taking you as theirs, giving you themselves. You turn your head in hopes to get a kiss and, much to your pleasure, you get exactly what you wanted. Longan Dragon Cookie is such a good mate, providing everything their mate wants without delay or confusion.

A good mate who’ll take care of your hatchlings—

Hatchligns.

Eggs!

Holy shit, Longan Dragon Cookie, the Ivory Dragon, is going to fuck eggs into you!

“Please...!” you beg, not sure what for.

Now, would carrying the eggs of your mate be so bad?

No, you figure as another orgasm washes over you, it wouldn’t.

An ever louder growl-purr answers your begging, claws mimicking the scratches left on a ivory back. Your mate starts thrusting faster, harder, deeper, as if trying to force your uterus to open to their cocks—no, not “as if”, that is what they will do. For the sake of your first clutch.

Your first clutch.

The thought alone triggers another orgasm and you repeat the earlier bite to Longan’s neck, not caring that your cookie teeth won’t pierce a mighty dragon’s scales. No, you must mark your mate however you can, no matter how difficult.

That is the limit for the dragon as they roar, shoving their cockhead into your womb with one last hard thrust.

You feel so damn full.

It is amazing.

There is nothing left in the world but you, your mate and where you two connect to become two. You scream to match their roaring, wild harmony ending in a passionate kiss.

Then you feel it. Something round travelling down their thicker cock, stretching you even more. A weak moan slips past your lips only to be greedily devoured by the dragon. The round thing must be about the side of your closed fist, maybe a bit smaller. The journey is slow, a sweet torture you endure in between the arms of your mate. When you dare open your eyes to look at them, your breath gets stolen by the sight of their pupils blown wide, eating away everything else. A forked tongue licks away your tears and sweat, the purring intensifying when you give their face your own, much shyer, licks.

Finally, the eggs pops inside your womb, getting comfortable in the empty space. The second cock gushes out a warm liquid; to fertilize the eggs, no doubt. Then another egg starts the journey. And another. And another. The first one arriving safely seems to have opened the gates as the others now rush to join their sibling. Another world shattering orgasm hits you when a particularly big egg presses your inner walls.

Ten eggs. You now carry ten eggs from the Ivory Dragon. Your belly looks round like a normal pregnancy. The cum inside you keeps you warm. So does the arms wrapped around you and the chest you nuzzle. You fall asleep, content and full, not a care in the world. Nothing can bother this serene moment with your mate.

A loud noise wakes you up hours later, and you recognize the voices of GingerBrave and the other cookies.

Ah.

[invested-in-your-future]

The Portrayal of DID in Ave Mujica

(I have to preface this by saying that I am approaching this from a narrative writing standpoint and from my own personal delving into psychology overall. The subject topic is complex and the medical knowledge on it is ever-evolving, so if any of my notions are outdated, I am very, so very sorry.)

(I also understand that the topic of trauma and DID might be a triggering experience to some people, so caution is advised.)

(The discussion will also have open spoilers about the show and as such is tagged with spoiler tags.)

If there's one thing I would never expect when watching a music show, it is for it to turn into a deeply introspective psychological drama about flawed characters grappling with anxiety, mental wellness, toxicity and so on.

I did something like this a few times before and I can't help but want to explore and convey my thoughts on the character writing and handling of dissociative identity disorder within this show.

Now, Ave Mujica's predecessor, MYGO (to which Ave Mujica is a sequel), did play with the portrayal of neurodivergent-coded traits and still remains one of the best attempts at that overall, but a lot of that could be written off as subtextual.

So Ave Mujica portraying DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) in a textual way comes as a surprise.

What's even bigger surprise is the lengths the show goes to make the portrayal feel authentic and how up-to-date the overall knowledge within the writing is.

Now, for starters, some explanation is needed.

What is DID?

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is a type of dissociative disorder that usually develops in early childhood due to traumatic experiences—most often emotional or physical abuse or neglect.

The conditions within the environment lead to a child failing to integrate into a unified identity due to compartmentalizing their trauma and various other facotrs. In layman's terms, "distancing themselves" from their own psychological trauma.

The key aspect to understand is dissociation, a concept that is crucial to DID but NOT limited to it. To quickly explain what dissociation is—to handle specific amounts of stress and trauma, the brain copes with the information via "disconnecting" one's sense of self from perception.

Dissociation is actually a very common reaction to trauma and can manifest in different ways without it being DID (hence dissociative disorders being a whole branch of stuff)—like, for example, dissociative amnesia, where a person might forget selective memories associated with a traumatic event.

Grief tends to sometimes lead to dissociation, especially during the early phases, too.

Another common example is depersonalization, which involves "perceiving yourself as an out-of-body observer," which usually involves an altered perception of time too, with time slowing down or speeding up or the concept of time losing meaning.

Both of those can manifest as part of DID, but can also exist separately—for example, derealization and depersonalization can be symptomatic of PTSD.

DID in itself as a concept is about a person at a young age failing to integrate into "one".

The way a child's growth goes is that the mind reintegrates and parses those their experiences and traumas shaping their identity. Experiencing dissociation doesn't instantly mean DID, because dissociation by itself is a common trauma-parsing mechanism, as I said before. A child can experience trauma, neglect, or abuse without it leading to DID.

In the case of DID, the child fails to integrate, the trauma/abuse/neglect instead leading to compartmentalized elements working together—a system.

It's important to note that trauma doesn't create alters, as it's been thought for a while. It's not something fake or "split" or "created"—the system is all the alters as equally "real"; it's just that alters themselves might have different traits of the identity.

While alters are identities, they aren't necessarily separate people—they are a system. Alters might differ from each other, and have separate memories, and skill sets, but every alter is part of that system. Alters don't appear out of thin air as separate entities and it's better to view a system as an entity comprised of equally real alters functioning together, with the "primary" one (the one that's out for the longest periods) being often called "the host".

Thus, alters can be subtle and almost indistinguishable from the host. And even if they have distinct personality traits, most alters would have an awareness to "fit in" by not standing out, instead internalizing them and trying to mimic the host personality (because it's "normal").

There isn't a secret evil spirit or a ninja assassin living in a person—portrayals like that (ex: the movie "Split") are extremely harmful because they perpetuate a toxic stereotype that just isn't true.

There's no "real personality and fake personalities" and so on. The current understanding of DID is a child at a young age, due to internal and external factors, failing to integrate into a singular identity.

Now depending on how young we talking, the person might have had a personality-before or might not have at the point DID develops, but the concept of "original/core" personalities is currently considered antiquated.

And just like alters aren't "created," they can't "die" either.

Now that this covered basic terminology and information, I can actually discuss about the show itself.

First, let's talk about Mutsumi and her character.

Mutsumi

From the very first appearance in MYGO, the characterization conveys the personality of someone who is stoic, internalizes her emotions, and has trouble communicating with others—her first spoken line in the show is ambiguous.

Mutsumi is a stoic, shy student who had been in a band together with her childhood friend, Sakiko, and three other people. The band imploded after her childhood friend suffered from circumstances she felt she couldn't share with others and disbanded it.

The character is often coerced or influenced by others to do things for them and plays more of the role of an observer.

It becomes quickly obvious that Mutsumi herself is extremely uncomfortable with this role—not only blaming herself for the band's breakup but also feeling awful about her friends' mental well-being afterward.

Meanwhile, Mutsumi's childhood is no better—as a child of a star actress and a famous comedian, Mutsumi didn't have what one could call "a normal childhood.". Her parents had surrounded her with wealth but at the same time had adopted a completely hands-off approach, which led to her feeling neglected and alone. For example, she doesn't even call her mother and father dad/mom/father/mother/etc., instead opting to refer to them by their first names like friends would do. The mother is also enamored with being an actress—for example, one of the things she would offer her daughter's friends visiting would be to watch movies she starred in.

The show makes sure the audience gets a sense of the scale of her home life—a luxurious house filled with servants where her mother is a star rather than a parent.

What's more, due to the circumstances of her parents she's constantly compared to her mother and father and their talents, with expectations placed to follow in their footsteps. This ends up with her feeling like she has nothing of her own in her life—whatever praise or expectation is placed upon her ties to The Star Actress and The Comedian instead of who Mutsumi is as a person.

As a result, she values the bonds she has formed with other people a lot. She cares deeply about her childhood friend (whose family circumstances are the actual reason for the band breakup), and she cares about the one other bandmate who had kept in touch with her (the person who is mainly keeping in touch due to selfish goals though).

So when her friend decides to create a new band, Mutsumi feels responsible to support her and help her.

Unfortunately for her, her friend is going through a lot emotionally, and the entirety of the new band consists of a lot of openly toxic individuals.

Thus she is placed into a situation where she has to juggle the neglect and distance she feels at home, the expectations her suffering friend is placing upon her, the expectations the world has for her due to her parents, and the pressure from being a member of an extremely popular band—a tough deal for someone who from the beginning had trouble expressing herself.

But hey, at least since the band has the whole pseudo-visual-kei thing going for it, she will be able to wear a mask.

Which is where her journey through Ave Mujica starts.

Ave Mujica and DID

The first notable thing we see happen is her struggling with an interview, reinforcing the idea that she has trouble expressing herself.

Ironically, this is another case where someone else ends up speaking over her.

The episode ends with the first notable trigger for her emotional state worsening, which is one of the bandmates going off-script and ruining the whole "secret identity" thing by unmasking them live on stage to an audience of hundreds if not thousands.

Considering her character set-up and her issues and insecurities, this is about the second most terrifying thing to Mutsumi in the entire world.

As the bandmates argue and blame each other over what had happened, the show then proceeds to take time to showcase how the pressure and the stress of what had happened affect her psychologically and emotionally.

This is a character who had been defined by the impostor syndrome caused by the neglect of her parents and comparisons society draws to them due to their fame—essentially getting doxxed live to an audience of hundreds if not more.

The show then dedicates its runtime to showcase how this character is slowly ground down by the building up pressure and anxiety, the dam breaking due to the traumatic experience—especially when she flubs an interview, causing even more tension and pressure.

"Don't speak out; play your role; don't make mistakes; be perfect or people will hate you."

The show makes sure to slowly build tension and highlight the growing anxiety and the increasing levels of dissociation the character experiences from the world around her as she goes through interviews and photoshoots—interactions that only worsen her mental state by anxiously comparing her to her parents or reminding her of the mistakes she made, as numbness overtakes her.

The anxiety, the stress, and the tension within all build to the point of insomnia as the character retreats to the one place she was implied to feel safe in throughout the show—the rehearsal room at home where she would spend time alone playing her guitar.

Because, again, as implied, her parents don't exactly pay any attention to her beyond showering her with wealth, and everyone else views her as an extension of her parents. So for her this is one spot that is truly hers.

And even that spot has now been taken because her mother had offered the whole band to use the rehearsal room. It's no longer just her space.

Depression, anxiety, and insomnia are but a few of the things that both influence and happen as a result of dissociative disorders

The show highlights the character's worsening physical state due to her deteriorating emotional state, to the point that the character has trouble walking down the hallway.

More importantly, the people around her—her band, her parents, her friend—they don't realize that. If anything, they put more pressure on her shoulders, they tell her to not stand out, to play the role to perfection, to not ruin the performance or further ruin the band's reputation.

The pressure and tension build to the point where the show depicts the first on-screen dissociative episode for the character.

Experiencing dissociation from gazing into a mirror is actually pretty common, as is the idea of recognizing your reflection as someone else. It's not limited to DID, however. There are common experiences where people suffering from anxiety might feel a sensation that they are looking at a stranger for example. Gender dysphoria might also elicit a feeling that the reflection is "wrong".

The show also showcases another common DID symptom: losing large chunks of time as the character finds themselves jumping from the changing room to the middle of the scene without knowing how she had gotten there.

The scene also involves the character witnessing(and more importantly, recognizing) multiple of herself. While the most common way for the host personality to perceive alters is auditory, visual perception is also possible, as are all other senses.

The series of visual hallucinations ends with a character making a mistake live on stage and experiencing a complete dissociation as she slumps onto a stage prop chair motionless like a doll with strings cut..

Essentially, this is a moment when no one is in control. The host personality has experienced complete dissociation, but neither the host personality nor any alters are "behind the wheel.".

Now, to this point, the idea is still subtextual (barely) in that the story shows but doesn't tell what is happening.

However, what comes after this grows more and more textual.

The dissociative episode and perceiving multiple of "you" leads to the character experiencing even more vivid hallucinations.

This time, however, the character directly acknowledges and converses with an alter within her mind-space.

Having a healthy and proper way of communication between host and alter(s) is actually crucial to functioning as a healthy system and living with DID.

Most of the conversation, however, happens within mind-space, as the character relives her past experiences and memories as if she were watching them as an observer, with the alter narrating her life's story.

The mindscape is often metaphorical so the alters don't necessarily always appear human, but they always would be "humanlike", because the brain perceives the alter as alive. The form alters might take within the mindscape is often dependent on the kind of trauma a person has suffered.

The story as narrated by the alter establishes the reason behind why the character values playing the guitar so much—because it's something truly hers, something she had learned on her own and something that is in no way "because of her parents".

But she feels like she's not good enough.

She can't be expressive, she has trouble communicating her emotions, and thus her playing skills, while technically perfect, lack that self-expression capability.

She can't make the guitar sing.

And thus due to impostor syndrome, she concludes that being "wrong" somehow is why the bands she gets involved with on her friend's behalf keep breaking up—why her best friend keeps suffering.

A person suffering from anxiety, trauma, and neglect, someone who has issues expressing themselves, would often wrestle with issues of self-hate and depression and Mutsumi is no different there.

Experiencing one's own memories from an outside perspective, as if watching a movie or seeing themselves from outside observing something is once again quite common in terms of DID.

As the toxicity within the band keeps growing and her friend keeps suffering, the character's anxiety and stress build further, the auditory and visual hallucinations intensifying.

Just a reminder that while this goes on and Mutsumi slips in and out of her mindscape, her best friend, her parents, and the whole band are completely unaware of any of this. In their minds, the dissociative episode she had experienced was "her acting out" or "acting" or just being "closed-off".

This is the first case where the alter has a direct and open back-and-forth conversation with the Mutsumi, rather than narrating her life like before.

Alters within a system often end up serving specific purposes—because they are more comfortable doing something the host alter isn't. Sometimes it's a single memory the host can't parse or a personality trait.

The alter in question showcases worry for the host's well-being—A Protector.

The alter represents worry over the character's own well-being and where the current stressful self-destructive path may lead.

(Important Note: I do feel the need to say that alters do not neatly fall into classifications and there's not some "class system" for Alters that is always true. There are many complex reasons for how alters within a system can be and there's a lot still unknown, as is true with the overall human mind. Since alters aren't created or "split", an alter merely providing a specific role doesn't mean they exist solely for that role, as it becomes clear with the case within the show too.)

The alter believes that if Mutsumi stays with the band, she will experience the full brunt of the band imploding and the alter also perceives Sakiko as someone who is not healthy for the character—toxic even.

Mutsumi however reaffirms that she wants to support her friend no matter what, to always be by her side.

Eventually, however, as the days go on, and the band keeps arguing, the character ends up tying together what is happening now with a traumatic event in her past—her best friend's previous band imploding in a similar fashion.

The character draws parallels between the two situations—between two traumatic experiences—which further worsens their wellbeing.

As a side note I do love Dutch-angles and how universal they are in conveying things going wrong somehow or being unsettling.

All of this leads to the final straw—a confrontation with her best friend, where the character ends up being accused of "not being good enough" and "not supporting her like a friend should".

Why can't she smile or talk or be more social?

Now I do feel the need to interject and say that while her friend is completely in the wrong here, things aren't that simple. Sakiko also has her own issues, depression, traumatic experiences, and absolutely horrible life—all of which she is unable to properly parse and thus turns towards alienating everyone who cares for her rather than showing how hurt she is.

This is the final straw, the moment where the anxiety and traumatic experiences build up to the point where the host just wants to escape.

A moment where subconsciously she'd want to turn to the someone for help.

This is also the first time this alter is properly given a name (one of Mutsumi's stage persona, Mortis).

The scene is eerie and haunting, but it has to be—sleeping is as close as the situation can get to ego-death.

(Because, like I mentioned before, parts of a system can't "die".)

Once the stage play starts, both the bandmates and the audience are treated to a performance that is unlike the character's usual self.

Mortis fulfills their role, shielding the host from a traumatic experience, taking it up to themselves to do something the host would suffer trying to do. In this case, it's to pretend everything is fine and play the role her best friend expects her in the band—to smile and to talk and to help keep it together.

From this point on, Mortis is in control.

She smiles, is social, and delivers efficient jokes to lighten up the mood—she pays attention to the wellbeing of other bandmates and is extremely expressive.

It needs to be noted that the bandmates and parents STILL have no clue. The other bandmembers barely knew her for a month so they don't really see anything wrong with the change in how the character behaves. If anything they see it as an improvement.

Mortis is doing everything they can to do what the host was too anxious to—to be a perfect actress, supportive and caring for the band, and nurturing an environment where the band stays together.

There are a few problems, however.

For starters, Mortis doesn't know how to play guitar, at all.

It's a skill and talent the host alter developed and as far as systems go not everyone would have access to the same memories, experiences, or skills and it's possible for alters to develop different skills than the host too.

And second of all, as the one who wants to protect Mutsumi, Mortis feels disdain towards the main source of Mutsumi's anxiety and depression—her childhood friend, Sakiko.

In Mortis's eyes, the dissociative episode the host suffered and the extreme amounts of anxiety and stress are all because of Sakiko.

This comes to a head in a scene where Sakiko, after spending a whole episode feeling uneasy because of how different Mutsumi is now, decides to have a one-on-one talk with her about what's going on.

It's in this scene that the show textually acknowledges DID.

What finally tips her off is that Mortis refers to her differently than Mutsumi would.

This scene also provides a direct affirmation of the fact that parts of a system don't "die"—they might however go dormant and "fall asleep".

As a side note, the scene does contain ominous framing, but it's mainly due to it mainly being from Sakiko's POV. The writing, however, makes it extremely clear Mortis isn't a villain as much as someone protective of Mutsumi and spiteful towards Sakiko due to her neglect of her best friend—and that Mortis isn't entirely wrong to blame Sakiko for this.

This is kind of surprising because that's pretty "new" information as far as the medical topic of DID goes. People used to think alters could die due to a faulty understanding of the idea stemming from the older now debunked theories as I mentioned before.

The reality, however, is, that alters aren't really something "different" nor "created/split"—a system has the same brain, and the same biological functions, which means the brain can't perceive itself as "dead".

DID develops at a young age due to neglect trauma or abuse. It doesn't suddenly happen because of some extremely tragic event as fiction often depicts it (the tragic events however can cause the host to dissociate and push specific trauma onto an existing alter).

The show, once again, acknowledges that too!

The scene basically spells out that Mutsumi's DID developed at a young age as a result of parental neglect and anxiety. Note that the show doesn't imply Mortis "having been created" ever.

Mortis basically spells out what Mutsumi wouldn't have been able to say—she speaks of the stress the band had caused Mutsumi and how Sakiko's neglect and toxicity ended up causing her to retreat into sleep.

(Once again have to add this: Alters can differ in terms of their thoughts, species, speech patterns, gender orientation, etc. Alters even can have different heart rates, eyesight, and how they respond to allergies.)

Mortis is resolute to protect Mutsumi and her band, but she's also a child—one that can be very blunt in the ways Mutsumi isn't and also naive in the way Mutsumi wouldn't be.

She can't help but detest Sakiko for her toxicity and the trauma it has caused.

She bluntly states that Mutsumi ceding control to Mortis is Sakiko's fault and if Sakiko keeps acting this way instead of actually parsing her problems, Mutsumi might never return.

Mortis isn't merely "a role protecting someone". She is childish and she is, in a way spiteful and she has an opinion about Sakiko that Mutsumi might not agree with.

There's a struggle there because the dissociation between the two alters is too big—there's a lack of communication as once Mutsumi gets to interact with Mortis again, the two are talking past each other.

Mortis is way too focused on what Sakiko had caused and on how it had hurt Mutsumi, while Mutsumi is still ever so focused on how much Sakiko herself is hurting and ignoring her own problems.

It's somewhat common for alters to communicate their memories or experiences with each other via mindspace creating a filing system of sorts as some described it as a computer with a search bar or a cabinet.

The show makes sure to highlight the dissociation currently between Mutsumi and Mortis and the communication between the alters having been strained due to conflicting motives and viewpoints on their mental wellness and how much a person Mutsumi cares about affected it.

The show also doesn't shy away from the problematic treatment of mental wellness in the world and how often it gets sensationalized.

The first major example is the public's reaction to Mutsumi dissociating on the stage—the band is flooded with demands to REPEAT that "performance". In fact multiple show appearances and stuff set that as a condition for the band appearing at all. To the public there's not even an ounce of worry that this was something real—to it couldn't have been anything but acting. Which is actually a common toxic reaction towards systems in the real world. Even within the Ave Mujica tags there were people screaming how "Mutsumi must be just pretending to have it".

Even one of Mutsumi's teammates mistakes her dissociation and Mortis for masterclass acting talent and is STILL haunted and feeling inferior by it even after she KNOWS what actually happened.

The characters also use the outdated term "split personality" when conversing about Mutsumi and Mortis and a majority of the cast doesn't "get" what this is and are way out of their depths—Sakiko blames herself for "having broken" Mutsumi, Umiri and Uika just completely don't care, Nyamu feels insecure and the MYGO cast are also just as out of their depths even though they display far more empathy.

It's a sheer contrast to one character who has no direct connection to Mutsumi but is known for her blunt nature and ends up recognizing both Mutsumi and Mortis as individuals (even asking for the name of each alter when they exchange introductions) and befriending Mortis.

Likewise, when Mutsumi and Mortis end up arguing over their motives and goals and falling down the stairs, the first reactions the onlookers have is to...snap photos and film the situation because it's a famous person and maybe this is some performance too! A completely cold and cruel audience of observes that keeps snapping photos even as another characters desperately begs them not to film this.

And of course, it gets shared and goes viral on social media.

Overall so far the representation of DID and overall mental-wellness issues in Ave Mujica (and MYGO) have been the series highlight and I certainly hope the show continues to treat the subject matter with care and research needed as it further delves into the character.

Another highlight is the variety of issues and insecurities the other main characters are facing—from Sakiko's complex traumatic experiences and implied self-harm tendencies, to Uika's obsession, to Nyamu's insecurities to Umiri's complete emotional disconnect and compartmentalizing to the point others see her as lacking empathy (even though that last scene implies it's not completely true, so we don't really know what's exactly going on there).

Ave Mujica, if it lands, is shaping up to be one of the best shows in a while when it comes to character introspection and psychological themes.

[breserker]

so i checked the notes of this post and some of the complaints about miscommunication contrivance give the well worn example of "person walks in at the exact wrong moment and leaves before clarification" being bad and annoying and hey thats the main conflict of the second half of Shrek

but it works

specifically because the KIND of miscommunication upholds the movie's central themes of ogres being Undesirable, of Shrek thinking hes okay being alone because he buys into the societal presumption of ogres being undesirable, that HES undesirable - the miscommunication being hes not, there is someone for him but she sees herself as undesirable bc of the ogreness too. Its literally about societys standards of beauty and race driving a potential loving couple apart bc they think they must follow what society wants of them.

The tricky thing with writing is that there really is no true Bad trope or even bad type of a trope, its just having the knowledge (and willingness to fail as you play around with writing to gain that knowledge) to use the toolbox at your disposal to your best advantage. I know that seeing multiple instances of a trope done to a contrivance level may sour it, but that doesnt mean it doesn't have its uses. It doesnt mean Shrek is a worse story for using a trope, because it as a story knew exactly what it was doing when it did. And sometimes i like to see a story use potentially overdone tropes with confidence bc they know what to do with them instead of a story that is so concerned with coming off cliche that it abandons the toolbox because miscommunication tropes bad/annoying.

Ive written for tropes i vehemently hate (boss/subordinate relationships) bc i wanted to not only challenge myself but also write them in a way I'd find them interesting, and to this day experiments like that are some of my favorite fics Ive ever written. And I still hate that trope! Try it! Surprise yourself! Unrestrict your writing!

"Why didn't they just communicate?? They're so stupid!" Have you considered that communicating with someone you love and value and don't want to hurt is scary and that vulnerability takes practice and that perfect characters with perfect words make the most boring stories of all

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 6!

and what a week it's been... idk about you all, but i'm very much looking forward to all the 8b spec fic after seeing That One Leak...

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a graveyard in blue | moonlightmornings/@moonlight-mornings | 12.9k | GA

After a call goes south because of limited resources and an equipment malfunction, Eddie's brave move to rescue a young girl takes a nasty turn. i love how this captures the energy and vibe of a rescue!! genuinely feels straight out of an episode <3

and i'd do it over and over again | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 4.4k | E

Buck and Eddie hook up at the end of "Confessions". oh when i tell you i savoured this one... such a wonderful fic that captures buddie's first time so so perfectly!! i love how their dynamic is written here <3

everything in between | simplyylupin | 2.1k | T

They’re quiet for a moment, mulling over the unsaid, and then Buck’s bringing his phone closer to his face, eyes squinting. “Are you naked?” the absolute codependency of these two <3 so good!!

hot ghost problems | ebjameston/@ebjameston | 40.9k | T

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. this was a reread! i was reminded of the magic system here and revisited it - can confirm that magic and ghosts and all that are so very good here, and i love the diaz siblings!!

i'll tell them put me back in it (and i would do it again) | paleredheadinascifi | 4.8k| T

Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them. the sheer brilliance of this concept... such a lovely look at the buckley-diaz dynamics! i was smiling the whole way through <3

it's golden, like daylight | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 8.7k | T

“Shut up,” fingers dig into his ribs, “I mean, would you want to? Be married again?” such wonderful firefam dynamics!! i read this last week, i think, and already reread it this past week as well. a new favourite for sure <3

lonely little love dog | littleghost/@ghostlandtoo | 24k | M

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much. this is such a fascinating look at buck's character!! and i LOVED the mara scene <3

parabola | semperama/@semperama | 4.6k | T

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” truly no fic captures the angst with a happy ending tag like this. also this fic is how i learned that there's a special ao3 tag for eddie's will, which sounds about right. anyway, point is, this is wonderful!!

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love | lemonzestywrites/@lemonzestywrites | 25.7k | E

After the events of 6x13, Buck is worried he's lost his charm in bed. Eddie eagerly offers his services to prove otherwise. a reread of one of my favourite fics <3 there's something about the intersection of smut and feelings realisation and introspection in this fic that just hits so very hard, it's lovely <3

the whale fall principle | fastcardotmp3/@fastcardotmp3 | 95.5k | M

Daniel Buckley lives, but he’s still deciding what that means. Maddie is having a baby, but it isn’t her husband’s. And Evan knows his purpose. Until he doesn’t anymore. okay so definitely heed the creator chose not to use archive warnings tag here (there are specific warnings in the chapter notes) but holy shit, this fic. genuinely the best buckley sibling dynamics i have read, like, maybe ever. such a wonderful eddie and chimney and everyone, and such gorgeous writing!! if this one sounds up your alley, you're in for a treat <3

to ebb and flow | akapeterman/@akapeterman | 5.1k | GA

buck is sick, eddie is worried, and christopher is an angel. they'll be okay. i've really been vibing with sickfics lately, can you tell? this is another lovely lovely fic, such great hurt/comfort/domestic fluff!!

wait for me to come home | written_promises | 1.9k | GA

Eddie comes back home to LA from Texas to find Buck waiting for him… in his bed. Because he’s been living in Eddie’s home. and eddie's bed is exactly where buck should be<3 so soft and sweet and beautiful!!

we return to each other in waves | cozycatwriter/@leon-trans-kennedy | 3.1k | GA

“Yes I do. Of course I do. You saved Chris and looked after him the best you could during a tsunami-and you’re still recovering from an embolism from having your leg crushed on the job. The least I could do is look after you and let you stay the night. Besides, Chris would want you to stay.” post-tsunami fics my beloveds <3 it genuinely makes me so happy to see new ones pop up, and this is truly an excellent one!! i love the bed-sharing especially!

you need a friendly hand (and i need action) | AmZamReads | 13.1k | E

Eddie picks up pottery as a hobby and accidentally blows up on Instagram for "accidentally" posting thirst traps of him throwing on the wheel. Buck stumbles across the account and immediately becomes obsessed with Eddie's hands, and horny shenanigans ensues. this fic makes me wish i could make pottery. i love eddie's pottery friends!! and a lovely buddie dynamic too <3

[obae-me]

The Devil's Desire

Nothing like trying to come back from a long hiatus with more Luci content. It's always him, I can't escape.

Warning: This fic contains a makeout scene but nothing explicit, so 16+.

Disclaimer: I am NOT bashing religion, nor am I calling out any specific faith, denomination, etc. It's written to be mostly generic on purpose, and is simply based on a real life experience I have had before. Don't take this seriously, please.

Word Count: 2.3k

With that out of the way, please enjoy some Luci romance!:

To lie with the devil is to wake up in hell. Tender lips stained with debauchery embrace nothing but lies. Tainted is the temporary vice. Lost is the lamb who leaves the flock. Damned is the devoured; the ones drowned in their own sins, plunged into the fires, entombed in brimstone. The cries of pleasure now ones of wailing. Of gnashing their own teeth. Made to suffer an eternity of eternities for shunning the light.

At least, that’s what they say.

And by they, right now you meant the very adamant woman standing in front of you, brandishing pamphlets like they were her very own Ten Commandments. If only 'Thou Shall Not Harass Unsuspecting People on the Street' were one of them. If you had your own rules, that would make it into the top five for sure.

Unfortunately, the lady slowly singling you out from the rest of the passers-by did not share your same sentiments. She was on a mission. Her mission? You. The goal? To wear you down and pester you long enough to join whatever group she was promoting. You’d seen these things enough before to see the danger signs in advance. A clipboard so they could take your name and number. A promotion selling tickets that you’d inevitably have to use your email to register for. All in an attempt to get your information so they could track you down in a less stalker-y sort of way.

“Oh, hello, dear. How are you today?” The hunter was closing in, two teens carrying signs at her side working on sequestering you- the weaker link- away from the pack.

“I’m good, how are you?” Damn your polite force of habit! Curse you, customer service default settings!

She grinned, knowing that if she played her cards right, she could probably keep you trapped here for a while longer. She spoke, and due to the survival instinct in your brain, you were capable of tuning her out for the most part. Something something, for the greater good, something something, special soul. They never meant what they said, or even if they believed their own words, it was undermined by their intentions. You’d been in this boat before. You kept waving your hand and nodding your head, explaining to her that you were busy and had someone you were meeting.

As you stepped backwards, she approached again. “Just one minute of your time! One minute could save your soul from Lucifer’s clutches!”

Without entirely meaning to, the drop of that name made you pause. Every once and a while, you forgot that the person you had come to know so well was such a prominent- albeit infamous- figure in the human world. Although, the way he tended to be described made him seem more like a boogeyman rather than a demon capable of Armageddon, scaring children across different nations and cultures into behaving. Perhaps you should be insulted on his behalf. Perhaps you should share some of the stuff you had seen. Tales of ivory wings and the blinding glow of a fallen angel whose twisted voice now told beings to Be Afraid. With a haunting beauty so enveloping, you openly fell further into the nightmare. That being said, you almost laughed in her face, wanting to tell her that the man she was so afraid of had been fretting over what kind of coat to wear this morning. Black was classy. But blue made his eyes pop more. But red was his color. Thirty minutes he pondered over this. “I’m not all that worried about it.”

Maybe you hadn’t contained your amusement as well as you thought you did, because for some reason, a righteous fire had lit under her sandy open-toed wedges. “You should be! Whatever promises the devil gives you, it will only bring you misery in the end! He cares nothing for you! Only HE can give you the joy you seek.” Her pointer finger raised up while she gazed to the clouds like she could peer into Heaven from down here. It was hard to tell if the dramatics were more for you or her. When she glanced at you again, she appeared spooked, clutching pearl hands at the ready.

An arm snaked around your waist, a hand settling on your hip. If the touch wasn’t so familiar, you would’ve jumped. “I don’t know. I think I bring plenty of joy, wouldn’t you say, love?”

Speak of the devil, in a quite literal sense.

Relief flooded your body, the tension you’d unknowingly built in your shoulders loosening. Even posing as a human, Lucifer was intimidating. At the very least, no one bothered to approach him out of the blue. This party buff seemed to extend to you as well. This lady seemed much less interested in trying to convince you of anything now. She cleared her throat and thought about potentially leaving you one last message of warning, but the man in your company wasn’t having it. He scoffed under his breath before he gestured to some of the other sign bearers in the group, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Strange weather today, isn’t it? You might want to help retrieve your things,” Lucifer announced. Eyebrows raised. The weather was quite nice today, albeit a little cold. Curiosity got the better of her. Just as the woman turned around, a heavy gust of wind blew over you all, making pamphlets and signs fly upwards and into the streets. Subtle. People scrambled. The lady hiked up her skirt and ran to the edge of the sidewalk. Cars screeched to a halt and honked, people stopped to gawk at the calamity, all the while, you felt yourself being tugged away.

Lucifer’s hand remained on your waist for a few minutes until he was certain the annoyance was far behind you. How much of a mess was the scene now? You turned your head to look over your shoulder, but only saw darkness as a gloved hand covered your eyes. A slight huff sounded off to your side.

“Leave it. This hesitancy of yours is what got you caught in the first place.” The hand moved from your eyes to the top of your head, making you look up at him with a twist of his fingers. “I leave you be for a few moments, and you once again find yourself tangled up in nonsense.” His narrowed eyes flitted over your form as if checking for signs of distress or injury, like the woman was a master of combat with pamphlets as her weapon of choice. Always the worrier that one. He’d have still a similar reaction if you found yourself lost in a grocery store…

A frown crossed over your face. “I did try to leave. How many times do I have to say ‘no thank you’ before someone leaves me alone?”

He tisked, his posture straightening as he fixed the scarf around your neck. The plush fabric was rubbed against your jaws. “There’s your first issue. Manners are all well and good until someone takes advantage of it. At some point, you have to drop the politeness and just say ‘no’. With your entire chest.” All of a sudden, he took two pointer fingers and manipulated your cheeks and lips to mouth some words. “N. O. Just like that. Can you say it with me? Nnnn…ooo…”

You narrowed your eyes a bit at his teasing, batting his hands away. “Knock it off, Luce…”

“Hmm. Maybe I should go get one of those eccentrics and tell them we changed our minds and—“

“No!”

“Ah, see, you are capable of it.” Someone was mighty pleased with himself. Anytime he found himself in a place where he was free from his responsibilities, he always got shockingly more playful. It would be cute if it weren’t so frustrating right now. His hand started running over your head. “Good job.”

“That’s not funny. You heard how they were talking about you… I hate listening to it.”

At your words, his teasing smile faded. Rolling his eyes, he lowered his hands. “I would much rather you save that vexation for yourself and how they treated you. All the humans in the world could despise me and I would not bat an eye.” Suddenly, his finger tapped your chin, trying to regain your full attention. “I only care what one of them thinks about me.”

Something about the sudden sappiness in public snapped you out of things. You turned a bit on your feet and started walking. “Did you check us in already?”

“I took care of it. Did you want to head in now or wander around the town a while?” His partial pout at ignoring his romanticism could almost be felt physically as he matched his pace with yours.

“I think I’ve had my fun for now.”

A hum, and his hand found your own. Clasping it, guiding you to the hotel as you both walked. It was astonishing how such a move cast a level of camouflage over you two. Suddenly, it was as if you both were a normal couple following the regular flow of foot-traffic, keeping each other warm in the crisp air with the heat of each others close proximity.

If the devil was so callous, why were his hands so tender?…

The rest of the walk was a bit of a blur. The people, buildings, spoken words, all unimportant compared to the sensation of having him near. The elevator ride jostled, giving you some more awareness to your surroundings. A short walk, a brandished key card, and he opened the door for you, the very picture of a perfect gentleman.

If the devil cared not for you, why would he bother with chivalry?

The “room” was huge, with an entire kitchen, walled off bathroom, closed off bedroom, and separate living area. This was more an apartment than a simple hotel room. The luggage was already brought inside, Lucifer’s portion already opened and put away. “Leave it to Diavolo to save you the biggest, fanciest suite in the hotel. If the tub has jets, I’m never leaving.”

“Do you expect the Avatar of Pride, the right hand to royalty, to expect anything less?”

“You’re funny if you think Diavolo wouldn’t give you something like this regardless of your gilded titles. Careful, your sin is showing.” You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful nudge.

He swiveled on his feet and poked your ribs. “You dare push me?” His voice rumbled in amusement deep in his chest. “Rather bold to do to such a dangerous demon.”

“Oh? Is that a threat? Going to take my soul? Well, you’re going to have to get through me first.” Fake punches flew through the air, striking at his chest and face with no force. Although you knew real punches would have the same utterly useless, painless outcome for him.

The world tilted, some of the air leaving your lungs in a giggling gasp as he scooped you up over his shoulder. He twisted, spinning around occasionally to leave you somewhat disoriented until you were plopped down on top of the bed, the whole mattress bobbing. Lucifer hovered over you. “You cannot hope to win, human. You’re mine now.”

Something in your chest fluttered at that. “So you win then, is it? How would you like my soul? Grilled? Blended? Braised?”

One of his hands worked on removing the scarf from around your neck, the back of his index finger tracing the outline of your chin. Just a breath away from being in contact. “Let me see…” Adjusting, rubbing his nose against yours, he waited for that tell-tale sign of permission, of you closing some of the distance. Temptation struck you, flooding in your heart. The plunge was too alluring. You bit of the fruit, and the devil wrapped his clutches around you.

Watch out for the schemes of the devil, who prowls like a beast, waiting for the moment to strike and devour- lips whispering inner desires. Raise up your guard to save yourself from being pulled into darkness, into his embrace, limbs aching and craving. For his claws shall tear and shred in eagerness, unable to contain themselves as they remove the body of protective vestments. He will take the very breath from your lungs. Crush the bones with a heaving chest. Partake of your flesh.

Lucifer raised his head for a moment, letting you both catch your breath. Your thumb traced his bottom lip, puffy and scarlet where you’d nipped it. Red was always a good color for him. That’s why you picked the crimson coat for him today. It matched his cheeks, the end of his ears, his longing eyes.

“Authentically,” he said, answering your question you felt you asked two lifetimes ago. His mouth covered yours as his broad hands squeezed your shoulders. “Slowly…” You could almost feel his hum in the back of your throat as he spoke between kisses. “Bit by bit…” His teeth grazed you top lip. “Over the course of a lifetime…” His affection moved on, venturing out and exploring your cheeks and gently over your eyelids. “So you’ll be right here with me… exactly like this… for a very-“ a searing mark was placed right under your earlobe, against a tingling part of your neck, “…very long time.”

To lie with the devil is to wake up wrapped up in braids of limb and cloth. Tender lips stained with last night’s embrace whisper saccharine words. Cherished is the temporary stillness. Beloved is the lamb who measures the meter of the heartbeat of the wolf. Blessed is the enamored; the ones drowned in their own affection, plunged into the fires of passion, entombed in each other’s chests. The cries of pleasure echoed with ones of mirth. Of declarations and vows held tight between their own teeth. Made to persist an eternity of eternities for existing as the other’s light.

For it's his desire.

[irissfoot]

arthur morgan x fem reader

him drawing you nude… fluffy and smutty please

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆

Soft Lines

╰┈➤ After a few weeks away from each other, Arthur takes his beloved wife to the saloon for a night of drawing and soft love making. ♥

Word count: 890

Warnings: unprotected p in v, kissing, nudity (obvi lol), author has zero sexual experience, not proofread

A/N: This is my first ever fic ive written so please be kind lol, also sorry for the delay ive been rlly busy and everytime I sat down to write it i got scared lol.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆

Soft giggles met the gentle crackle of the fire, the warm glow casting a soft shadow over her curves as she posed on the rich red chaise couch.

Dutch had sent him and Lenny on yet another wild goose chase, a habit growing annoyingly common. Because of these pointless missions, he hadn't had time to catch up with the love of his life. To correct this, Arthur took her out to dinner at the saloon in Saint Denis - promptly followed by booking a room for the night. 

And that's how you ended up laying on your side on the couch, as bare as the day you were born. You were reluctant at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Laying naked as your husband who looks like he was sculpted by the gods, sitting there, drawing you. But with a few kisses and a promise that it wouldn't take too long, you obliged. 

“Are you almost done? I feel silly”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you look gorgeous.” He mumbled as he continued scribbling away, a small smile crept its way onto your face.

“Do you really mean that?” you already knew what his answer would be, but you were growing tired and figured teasing him would help aid that.

He looked up, surprised almost. As if he didn’t say it enough. “Well ‘course I do!” Suddenly an idea popped into your head as he put his head back down.

“Well then show me.” You got up and started walking across the room towards him. Hips intentionally popping out, accentuating your curves.

A smirk made its way onto Arthur's face as he put his pencil and journal down, reaching out to grab onto your soft waist. Pulling you down to have your ass sit flush against his lap. Smiling at you gently as you play with the tuft of hair at his neck, looking lovely into his eyes.

“Don't know what I did to deserve you.” He continued staring into your eyes for a moment, muttering a faint beautiful before leaning in to kiss you. Soft and gentle, those are the words you’d use to describe how Arthur treats you. Holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world to him. 

The kiss became more passionate and deep, kissing down your neck before standing up with you in his arms. Walking back towards the couch, delicately laying you down. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as you start to unbutton his black blouse - his favourite but only because you always tell him how handsome he looks in it. 

His hands start to move from your hips and up towards your soft breasts. Massaging them tenderly, making you let out a small sound of protest before breaking from the kiss.

“Arthur, take your clothes off.” Your tone was kind but he knew better than to test you. 

“Yes ma’am.” He sat back on his feet, pulling his arm out of his suspenders as you untuck his shirt pulling it down his shoulders. 

Caressing his shoulders and buff chest as he unbuckles his belt, “God I love you.” Just as he takes his pants off you pull him into a deep kiss. His hands find their way back to your breasts, teasing your nipples as you massage his growing erection.

Mumbles and groans grow louder and you just couldn't take it anymore, pulling away slightly whispering a soft, “Please Arthur.”

You don’t even need to ask a second time before Arthur takes his length in his hand, trailing the tip of his penis between your wet folds moaning at the sensation. 

“Good god women.” He rests his forehead on yours, staring oh so lovely into your eyes before entering you. You couldn't help but moan. It had been a long time since he stretched you out, his ridges rubbing perfectly against your warm velvety walls. Letting out a low groan as he bottomed out. He pulls his hands to your sides, caressing you with a desperation you absolutely adored. 

He started moving, slow, deliberate, and deep. Relishing the noises you were making, the desperate grabs at his back. You needed this just as much as he did. Speeding up a little, hitting your g-spot everytime. Reaching down to bring Arthur's hand into yours, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. 

“Oh God Arthur.” You weren’t gonna last much longer, walls clenching around his  length. Heels digging into his back, pushing him deeper.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” His pace speeding up a little, he wasn’t gonna last much longer either. 

With a few more strokes and messy kisses, you came undone. Walls spasming on his cock with such a vigor he had never felt before. Moaning loudly, you pulled his sweaty forehead down to meet yours once again. He looked into your eyes as he came, watching the way your face contorted when you felt his warm cum filling you up. 

Panting heavily as his thrusts slowed, collapsing down onto you as you panted. Wrapping your arms around him, kissing his head tenderly. 

As you both layed there, the world around you seemed to dissipate. He looked up at you, the orange glow of the dying fire highlighting the sweat on your face and the frizziness of your tousled hair. And he swore, you never looked better.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆