#I have other ideas but this is just a LITTLE look into her character

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 10

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this. Labour.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 10 of 12!

“Breathe,” Victoria kept insisting.

“You are doing so well, Choupinette,” her mother cooed.

Colette was quite certain that she was going to die. 

At least it felt like it.

The pain was overwhelming. It didn’t feel like her body could take any more of it. The contractions were so strong and the pain was blinding in its intensity. She wasn’t certain if she could do this anymore.

“I can’t do this,” Colette choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Victoria insisted. Her voice was firm and steady. “You absolutely can do this. You’re already so far along, you just have to push. You can do this.”

"Just breathe," her mother said soothingly, stroking back her hair. "You are doing so well."

But she wasn’t doing well. 

She wanted Max. No, she needed Max.

She needed him so badly. She didn’t want to do this by herself. 

Colette cried out in pain as another very strong contraction hit her, clenching her teeth through it. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max."

"I know," Victoria said, stroking her hand. "I know you do. But you can do this. Just a little bit longer, okay? It won’t be long now."

She didn’t want to do this without him. But what other choice did she have?

A strangled sob escaped her throat as she clutched her mother’s hand desperately as another contraction hit.

“We’re going to need you to push now,” the doctor said firmly. “You need to start pushing with the contractions.”

Colette cried out in pain as she tried her very best to push like they were telling her to. The pain was blinding in its intensity. But it hurt. Gods, it hurt more than anything that she had ever experienced. It was like her body was about to rip itself in half.

"You’re doing so well," her mother cooed.

"Keep Pushing."

Another strangled scream escaped her. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max. I need him. I can’t do this.”

Victoria stroked her hair. "It’s almost over, Colette. It’s almost over. Just a little bit more," Vic promised her. 

Colette wanted to give up, she wanted to give in. She wanted the pain to end. But more than anything else, she just wanted Max.

Another scream was torn from her, a ragged cry of pain as a particularly severe contraction tore through her. She was certain that she wasn’t going to survive this. The pain was too severe.

"Keep Pushing."

"Keep Pushing."

"Push, Push, Push"

She didn’t understand how they expected her to keep going. She could feel herself flagging, she was so exhausted.

The room was a blur around her, dark spots dancing at the corner of her vision. The sound of her own screams echoed in her ears, the pain almost overwhelming. She thought she was going to pass out.

She heard the door open.

A small part of the pain-hazed part of her mind registered the sound. She thought she was hallucinating. Surely that wasn’t the sound of the door opening. Surely she was just losing her mind under the excruciating strain.

“That took you too fucking long,” Victoria snapped. Colette would have smiled, if she hadn’t been currently in the middle of pushing. Max's familiar voice echoed in her ears, and for one sweet second, the pain all but vanished.

And then he was there.  Her heart jumped and a small sob escaped her. Max. It was really Max. He was there. He was right beside her.

Dry lips pressed against her sweat slick forehead. “Liefje.“

He was there. He was really there. 

"Max," she sobbed out. "You’re here. You’re really here."

"Of course I am," he said shakily. He pushed back her sweaty hair from her forehead. "You didn’t think I was going to let you do this without me, do you?"

She wanted to tell him that, in all honesty, she had thought exactly that. If he hadn’t shown up, she would have had to do this without him. But she was too exhausted, and in too much pain to form the words. All she could do was clutch at his hand, desperately clinging onto him like a lifeline.

Max immediately threaded his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly. "I’m right here," he soothed. "I’m not going anywhere.” He was giving her something solid to hang onto. 

“Another push,” the doctor encouraged.

With Max holding her hand, Colette gave one last, desperate push.

She was certain that she was going to pass out. She didn’t understand how she was still conscious. The pain was mind-numbing in its intensity. "Once more,” the doctor said firmly. “I can see the head. Just one more push.”

Colette whimpered, her breath coming in short sharp sobs. "I can’t,” she cried in exhaustion. "I can’t."

"You can,” Max said fiercely. “You are the strongest goddamn person I know, and if anyone can do this, it’s you. Just one more push, come on, liefje."

His grip on her hand was so tight, it was almost painful, but that brief moment of pain was worth it. Feeling Max's presence beside her, holding onto her so desperately with his fingers threaded firmly through hers, it was the only thing that gave her the last little bit of strength that she needed.

With a long, ragged scream, she gave one last push, pouring everything she had into it.

She could hear Max beside her, talking to her soothingly, but the words were all blending together. Her senses were slowly fading. "Push, you can do it, you’re almost done." The words were coming at her from all sides now, swirling and echoing amongst the darkness of her hazy vision, and it was all she could do to grip Max’s hand, and listen to the sound of his voice.

And then it was over.

The searing pain suddenly stopped. 

For just a moment, everything was quiet. 

A cry cut through the sudden silence

The sound echoed around them, small and shrill and so very loud in the stillness of the room. A choked gasp of relief escaped Colette as she slumped back against the pillows, utterly exhausted.

"There you go," Max murmured, gently wiping back the hair from her forehead. "It’s over, it’s over now. You did so well, liefje. You’ve done it."

She wanted to speak, to say something to him in return, but her tongue was so heavy in her mouth it would hardly form words. Her mind was still a blur of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline. All she could muster was a small whimper as she felt his hand gently stroking her hair.

The sound of the infant’s cries rang out again, more strongly this time. “Here,” the doctor said, sounding a little amused. “Let’s get that little girl on maman’s chest.”

Through the haze, Colette felt an immense amount of exhausted relief, as the doctor carefully placed a small, wiggling bundle on her chest.

The baby was beautiful. Small and new and perfect, and Colette felt like the very breath had been knocked out of her. All the exhaustion and the pain was suddenly entirely worth it as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

"Hello, bébé," she breathed softly, the words coming out as a whisper. “I thought you were going to be a boy,” she choked 

A broad smile covered her face as she gently stroked the downy soft tufts of dark hair covering the baby’s head. The small, tiny, perfect little fingers wrapped around her own, and Colette’s heart felt so full it felt like it was going to burst.

"I was right," Max said, the words somewhat choked. His voice sounded almost strangled, and she didn’t need to look to know that there were tears running down his face.

Colette looked up at him then, taking in with a mixture of affection and amusement how utterly awestruck he looked. He was crying openly, tears running unashamedly down his cheeks.

“We did it,” she told Max.

“We did,” He said, his voice still choked with emotion. “She’s so beautiful.” Max sounded utterly wrecked.

Colette couldn’t help but share his feelings as she looked back down at the baby in her arms. The small infant had opened her eyes for a brief moment, revealing the most vividly blue eyes that Colette had ever seen. “She got your eyes.”

“And your hair,” Max said, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the soft dark locks on the baby’s head.

The baby gave a little gurgle, waving her tiny hand as if to reach out for his fingers. “Hello, mooi meisje,” he said softly, his voice still sounding a little choked, as the baby tried to wrap her fingers around his own.

"She's absolutely perfect," Colette whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny, perfect bundle of joy in her arms.

"Just like her mother," Max said, his voice hoarse. He stroked his finger down the baby's soft cheek, the most gentle of touches.

***

In the end…he made it with minutes to spare.

He couldn’t describe the relief that he felt when he finally burst through the door, to find Colette in the midst of giving birth. He had been so terrified that he wouldn’t make it in time.

And now here he was, sitting beside her on the bed, their daughter in her arms, safe and sound and utterly, utterly perfect.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them both. Colette was beautiful, despite looking utterly exhausted. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, but she had never look more lovely.

And their daughter… Their daughter was perfect. Tiny, and new, the sweetest thing that Max had ever seen. He gently ran his finger down her soft, plump cheek, marveling at the sheer fragility of her.

And he couldn't stop crying. This was his family. His.

They had hoped so desperately for so long, and now there was their little girl. And she had been worth it. Worth all the heartbreak.

His eyes stung and his throat was constricting, but he couldn't help it. He knew he must look a mess, tears running unashamedly down his face and throat choked up, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. They were here, and safe, and together.

He looked down at the baby’s tiny, perfect face, her closed eyes, her nose. She had Colette’s hair, and his eyes, and Max thought that if it was possible to die of love, he was dangerously close to that moment right there.

He reached out a shaking hand to touch his daughter’s tiny fist, his own hand dwarfing hers. She opened her eyes again for a brief second, and he could have sworn that she smiled at him for just an instant.

The tears ran more freely down his face now at that thought. His daughter, his little girl, his precious perfect baby, smiled at him. It might have just been a trick of his own overjoyed emotional state, but right then, Max was convinced that it had been a real smile.

"She's perfect, liefje," he whispered, his words coming out a little choked. "She's so damn perfect.”

"Dad, you want to cut the cord?" the doctor asked him.

The question seemed to take a moment to register in his hazy emotional state, but when it did, Max’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. And then just as quickly, he nodded mutely.

In a daze, he reached for the small pair of scissors that the midwife handed over to him, cutting the umbilical cord under her careful supervision.

He was in a daze, even when they took his daughter from Colette to check her over and bath her. "Stay with her," Colette told him softly. "Go on."

Max nodded, unable to find the words to answer to her. He stood up on slightly shaky legs, watching as the midwife took his daughter over to the small bassinet and started to check her over.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his baby, tiny and perfect and theirs. All the years of trying, all the hope and the heartbreaks, and now there was their little girl, safe and sound.

He got to watch her be bathed and then swaddled right into a soft pink swaddle that he knew he himself had bought because Colette kept insisting that it was a boy...and then he finally got to hold her in his arms and cry some more, because she was perfect.

He cradled her small, tiny form in his arms, his fingers trembling a little as he gently touched the soft downy skin of her cheek. Her weight was barely anything at all in his arms, and for a moment, terror gripped his heart. Was he holding her too hard? What if he hurt her?

"You aren't going to hurt her," Victoria said suddenly and he stared at his sister that sat down next to her. "You aren't. I promise you. Babies aren't as breakable as they look," she teased him softly. "Congrats, Maxie."

Max nodded, a little startled. He had honestly forgotten that his sister was even there, the arrival of his baby girl had taken up most of his attention.

"Thanks, Vic," he managed, his voice still choked. 

He looked down at the baby in his arms again. They had wrapped her tightly in the pink swaddle that he himself had insisted on months ago. He had been so sure that the baby was a girl. And he had been right.

He wouldn't have cared either way, but...he had been right.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his eyes burning.

Victoria smiled, watching him with a softness in her eyes that Max wasn't sure he had seen before. “You’re a father,” she said simply. “How does it feel?”

“Like my heart’s going to explode with pure happiness,” Max admitted, looking back down at his daughter in his arms. “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m dreaming. I don’t…I don’t know how to describe it.”

"Welcome to the sleep deprivation community that is parenthood," Vic joked softly. "You are going to be the best father," she told him.

It made him choke up. That absolute certainty with which his little sister said that, a hand on his shoulder. "You are going to be the best father to her," Victoria promised him fiercely.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at his sister. “I’ll do my best,” he managed to say, his voice a little choked. “I’ll do absolutely anything for her, for both of them. Anything in the world.”

They didn't often talk about their childhood...about all the things that had gone down...the long drawn out screaming matches they could remember before their parents had divorced and the separation that came afterwards...

They didn’t like to talk about it. It was one of those things that they usually just skirted around, because when they brought it up, old feelings and emotions came up with it. And the fights weren’t pleasant to remember...

But in that moment, Max felt a profound sense of relief. For the first time, he was glad those fights had happened, because if they hadn’t…he and Vic wouldn’t have the relationship they had now, and he wouldn’t have learned, from all of the pain and heartbreak of those fights, what not to do. He never wanted his daughter to grow up like that. He never wanted her to feel the pain of a broken family like they had.

And he knew that he would do absolutely everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He and Colette would keep their family tightly together and protect and love their little girl with everything that they had.

No matter what.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of that. "I don't ever want her to grow up like we did, Vic," he managed to say, the words still a little choked. "I don't ever want her to feel like we did."

"She won't," Vic assured him, her voice still soft. "Because you're going to be a great father. She'll grow up feeling loved and wanted and safe. I know that, Maxie."

His throat felt as if it was slowly closing up. "Thanks, bink," he managed to say, his voice cracking. "It means a lot. I..." His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard. "I couldn't ever thank you enough for being here. For being with us."

For coming even when he handn’t asked…for somehow knowing without being told what they needed.

His sister just smiled at him, her blue eyes, so similar to his own, sparkling. "She’s my niece," she reminded him. "You're not getting rid of me. I'm going to spoil her rotten, you know that?"

"You are going to have fierce competition, Victoria" Pascale said softly.

He looked up to where Colette's mother was tucking her own daughter back into the bed, fussing over her. Colette looked better than she had before, freshly showered, still exhausted, but no longer...no longer looking like she was going to faint any minute.

Colette was already sitting up, even though she would be in pain for a while, a testament to her usual stubbornness.

"Maxie." Colette didn't need to say more than that, as he stood and crossed the room, safely putting their daughter back on her mother's chest.

He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. "Hey," he said softly, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. "How are you feeling, liefje?"

"I'm okay," she said softly, resting her head weakly against him. "Sore. Tired. Happy. Went through 6 hours of labour, only to give birth to your and Charles' clone," she said drily, making her mother laugh.

Max smiled faintly, resting his head against hers. “Charles?” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She does look awfully similiar," Pascale agreed.

Max gave a small laugh, glancing back down at the baby. He supposed there was a resemblance, if one knew what to look for. “She’s not a clone,” he countered, a note of mock offense in his voice. “She’s a perfect mix of us.”

"With what I am pretty certain is Charles' nose," Colette said drily.

Max laughed faintly, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny nose with his finger. It narrowed just so at the tip… “Maybe,” he conceded thoughtfully. 

His daughter stirred faintly at the contact, a small noise coming from her mouth that sounded a bit like a grumble. Max smiled at the sound. 

“And I’m pretty sure she’s just as stubborn as her mother,” he teased Colette.

She reached up to lightly smack his hand, but her smile was fond. “Like you aren’t just as stubborn,” she retorted.

Their daughter took that moment to complain loudly for once and Colette shifted her slightly, unbuttoning her pyjama top.  At least one thing went down with absolutely no fuss whatsoever. A few minutes later, their daughter had greedily nursed, burped and was back to slumbering quietly. 

"Are the three musketeers still outside?" Colette asked.

“They are,” Max confirmed, brushing a strand of hair back from Colette’s face. He had all but forgotten about Colette’s brothers.

"Get them," Colette said softly.

Max smiled. "All of them?" he teased. He knew that was exactly what she had meant."All of them," she nodded.

[lostfracturess]

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

masterlist + support my writing

The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never ever I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

@nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @chiyokoemilia @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[celestiamour]

since you asked for hyun-ju ideas, here am i 🙂

Imagine being her girlfriend and finally managing to hype her up to wear something more feminine for a date (like a dress or a skirt), only for that confidence to be shattered by some strangers on the street ;((

so, after a bit of comfort, you just need to prove how they were wrong, and show your sweet girlfriend how nice you think she looks on that outfit *wink wink*

ft. cho hyun ju x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ hyping her up to go out wearing a skirt for the first time┊0.7k words

contains: fluff with suggestive content at the end!! gender dysphoria & insecurity but mainly euphoria, established relationship, reader is shorter

➤ author's note: i went off prompt and didn’t do smut for this one because i really just wanted to focus on her gender euphoria moment, so sorry (also this is my first time writing for a trans character centered around gender identity! my knowledge mainly comes from having an ex girlfriend who was trans and told me about her experience, but if i got anything wrong or need improvement for something, please tell me so that i can improve and do hyun-ju justice!)

she stared at herself in the mirror, almost in disbelief at first at the reflection looking back at her. it’s insane how a little bit of makeup and stylized outfits could completely transform her appearance, the magic being something she’s heard about plenty of times but has only been able to witness at this moment. her fingers nimbly adjusted her hair, brushing it back before pushing the front stands forward to frame her face, and then flying to her pleated skirt to straighten it out. her heartbeat was all over the place, both from the happiness of finally feeling like herself and from the anxiety of planning to go out in public like this.

hyun-ju paused at the thought of that, looking back at herself and suddenly focusing on all of her insecurities again— the more masculine features that other people would point out and whisper about from her face to her frame. she looked at her bare legs and found the contrast with the dainty piece of cloth too stark to ignore, finding herself crossing her legs and wondering if she should just wear pants like she usually did.

self-consciousness started to consume her entire being and thoughts about it not being enough raced across her mind, taking in a deep breath and considering just taking it all off to stay in for the night. the last thing she wanted was to get harassed by some assholes on the street just for trying to be herself, especially when she knew you would yell back at them and a fight was very much possible as it happened in the past before ending with you in the hospital for a broken wrist (the other guy was in a much worse state, but she still didn’t like the idea of you getting injured or possibly even arrested for her behalf).

“babe, are you finished changing?” you called out and broke her out of her thinking, but you entered before she could say anything. she cringed slightly and closed her, feeling embarrassed until she heard you gasp in pure delight, “oh, you look so beautiful!”

the heat radiating off her cheeks from being sheepish quickly changed to that of being flustered, “r-really?”

“of course!” you took her hands into yours, spinning her around like she was a princess wearing the most luxurious ball gown ever crafted even though it was bought at a local mall, “i knew this outfit would look good on you, it really is your color!”

“right, i was just worried it looked weird…” she felt a little stupid expressing her concerns, but she knew you were understanding, “i just feel like… i don’t know, i feel like i’m too tall to wear something like this…”

“being too tall isn’t a problem! personally, i would kill to be your height and to have your legs, and i know plenty of other people would too. it’s a trait that lots of top models have, so you don’t have to worry about anything!”

your words made her crack a smile, feeling the initial confidence flood her and your arm wrap around her waist as her gaze returned to the mirror once again with both of you admiring her beauty. seeing herself in your light was always enlightening like she was a completely different person in the best way possible, and she was so grateful to have you as her girlfriend to pull her out of her negative thoughts. 

“well, we better get going. if we stand here always just staring at how pretty you are, i might not be able to control myself and we’ll be home all night,” you teased, standing on your tip-toes and kissing her carefully on the lips so as to not mess up the tinted gloss.

“i don’t think i would mind that…” 

“don’t tempt me now…” the fluffy atmosphere became charged with a familiar tension with your touch lingering on her skin, one of your hands traced up her thigh with sinful ideas forming on how you could mark up the unblemished skin and ruin the makeup you wanted to preserve a mere few seconds ago.

after a few seconds of heavy silence, you finally pulled her to join you on the bed, all teasing smiles and lust, “well, we can just order an uber instead of walking, we can spare ten minutes. that’s all the time we need, isn’t it?”

[rie-092]

Hi, here I reader an he Creep lycris and (i hopenits okay 2 characters) but I love the idea of the Eclarcks vrothers being ivsessed woth Penelope's maid! Reader.

And they tried to get notice, in a bad or good way. Reader takes care and actually loves Penelope and just want her mistress tk be happy uu

EVENT'S ENTRY OO2 : CREEP

[ yandere! eckhart brothers ]

note: here's the link of the event (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)!

let's start with derrick. he was the first one who noticed you. let's just say that you and him was childhood friends since you started working in the eckhart estate since you were a child.

at first, to be honest. derrick finds you annoying. but seeing you being happy and friendly towards his little sister. it struck something inside him.

and that was when he realized, ah, damn you. he was falling hard.

expect that derrick, despite of being prideful, will be very needy. hell, you're not even lovers but he will start demanding for your attention.

he will start calling for you everyday, despite of being busy with your work. and what's his reason? simple, because he wanted to ‘play’ with you.

well, technically you guys just spend times while reading books or drinking teas. but for derrick it was everything.

and that was when reynold eckhart entered the scene.

unlike his calm and collected older brother, reynold was fucking cute, i mean, a mess when he's in front of you.

it all started with a small crush and that was when he started following you around like a puppy. dude, this guy really loves headpats and compliments. so you better shower him with compliments!

he likes playing with you and yvonne! but it's just annoying to have derrick playing the dad role while you play the mom role when yvonne wants to play house.

since they were children. they haven't really realized that their affection for you were— how will i describe it? darker? or unhinge?

derrick was the calm and calculated one while reynold was the violent and cranky one. to be honest, they are not really jealous to each other. sure, they want your attention for themselves but— nah, nah, in derrick's eyes, reynold was too childish to be your type. while in reynold's eyes, his brother is too sophisticated to fall for you.

expect that they will be more handful when yvonne disappeared. they will be more clingy. because reynold wants you to comfort him while derrick was preventing you to disappear like yvonne.

and that was when penelope entered the scene. when the duke was finding a suitable maid to serve penelope. you were with derrick that time. he saw how your eyes shone as you looked at penelope.

no, no, no! he kept telling to himself that you only reacted like that because you miss yvonne. there's no way you find that thing adorable!

but the next day, he was surprised when he was informed by his father that you became penelope's personal maid. how dare her—

what about reynold? well, he doesn't really give a fuck. sure, he still hates penelope taking his sister's place on their family. but seeing you actually enjoys serving penelope.

honestly, derrick and reynold was really different when it comes to you. reynold was the soft one, heck, he won't hurt anyone or you physically and verbally if you give him the attention that he wanted. but once he saw you paying attention to anyone that is not him or derrick? you should expect to see his violent side.

while derrick is the unhinge one. he doesn't care who it was, if you don't pay any attention to him. the hell, this guy would lose it. i mean, the last time you went to the festival with your male friend. he tortured that thing in front of you (and hell, he was so close on doing that to penelope if you're not that overprotective over her).

and you? who is stuck in the middle of this two brothers who is like a ticking bomb? you only want one thing. and that is for penelope to be happy.

but unknown to you, penelope actually wants you as much as her siblings wanted you. but don't worry! she is willing to share you with reynold. but not with derrick.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

“ we want you to notice when we're not around, (name). ”

[thewertsearch]

@necrowyrm asked: happy new year!!! enjoy the last little bit of homestuck before act 6! Anonymous asked: You have NO IDEA how much I was looking forward to your reaction to this flash :D @teddy-bearer-of-bad-news asked: a very late congratulations from me for making it this far! i gotta say, saving CASCADE for new year's is probably the smartest thing i've heard all week. may your experience be nothing short of righteous, comrade Anonymous asked: Cascade … Even years latter knowing it almost by heart, every once in a while I will take a little quarter of an hour to rewatch it, Say what you want about Hussie but there is a good reason Homestuck became so iconic. @adeptarcanist asked: The leadup to Cascade was honestly my favorite sequence in Homestuck, and maybe one of my favorites in any media ever? The way the narrative splits apart into all of the different scenes swirling in towards the critical moment, both advancing main plots and finding time to spend a moment of melancholy with characters who’d been left behind (The Jaspers and Nepeta scene :( )… it’s such a strong narrative device, and the tone it generates is impeccable. @calamitascalliope asked: I literally watched the flash again, and it still gives me chills every single time. Welcome to your post-Cascade life. You won't be able to think about anything the same ever again @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: "she looks so cool… but she’s so tragic… but she looks so cool…" has become a brainworm for me. i too love the handmaid's design btw, cascade time has been i think the most anticipated non-personal event of the entire year for me. i'm so excited @publicuniversalworstie asked: I want you to know that I also opened Cascade and started watching with you right after I saw your "oh my god it has chapters" ask, and I finished just as you posted "I will never be the same" !! And I bet lots of other people did too <3 so it's like we all watched it together!!!! Happy New Year and thank you for liveblogging!!!! It's been a pleasure！(and will continue to be) @krixwell asked: I would like you to know that your "Right, we're good to go!" and "oh my god it has chapters" posts were posted right as I was outside watching midnight fireworks ring in 2025 for the Central European timezone. Happy new year! @captorations asked:

hey remember when rose just up and fucking said that. anyway congrats on reaching cascade! it absolutely wrecked me back in the day, i think i stared at those flaming curtains for a solid ten minutes as my brain permanently reconfigured. the first few notes of the track alone still give shivers. getting your reaction to cascade was a wonderful birthday present. (speaking of getting older: aradia 🤝 dulcinea also got that "distressingly short lifespan only to die early anyway" story thread going on. the parallels are paralleling.) anyway happy new year and congrats you are… slightly less than halfway done with homestuck. have fun!

Hey, guys. Cascade was so fucking good.

Like, there's really no competition; this is the best Flash page in the comic thus far. Peak music, peak animation, and absolutely a peak narrative. It tied up mountains of plot threads, providing complete answer to questions we're been asking for literally thousands of pages. It completed over a dozen arcs, both big and small. It made me gasp three times in fourteen minutes. It let Jade become a furry.

11/10, and I'm glad people had as much fun here as I did on New Year's Eve. Happy 2025, and happy Act 6!

@morganwick asked: Sally, predicting Cascade: "I have approximate knowledge of many things." @morganwick asked: "You literally have the whole world in the palm of your hands." -Sally to Jadesprite, December 16, 2024 (You might also want to reread post/770701212350857216 in light of recent developments.)

Hah!

I mean, based on her powerset, it made sense that Jadesprite would do something like this eventually, but it's pretty funny that she did it more or less immediately.

And in the end, CD really was a tricky little bastard. We'll definitely need to keep a closer eye on him, next time around.

Anonymous asked: Take a moment to consider that if anyone were to use the Homestuck website as it stands now instead of the Collection program, Cascade would have been presented in the YouTube player in Standard Definition, artifacted to hell, with a clear boundary showing the dimensions of the video from the very start. Preservation is so important.

Jeez, you're not kidding. The 1080p is fine, I guess, but it certainly doesn't hit like the Flash version does, especially with its lack of moving panels.

I know something had to change when Flash kicked the bucket, but surely there was a better way to preserve the video's soul.

Anonymous asked: to give you some of an idea of what homestuck fandom looked like during this time period, im cribbing from a very popular homestuck post: “first, this upd8 was something that we had been waiting for for WEEKS. A literally unprecedented wait period at the time. We were used to suckling at the teat of daily updates, a constant stream of conversation and plot twists and buildup, and as EOA5, we were finally going to figure out what all these countdowns and plot threads and disconnected elements were building up for. And when the progress bar reached 100%, and when the page FINALLY loaded on 10/25/11, it was chaos. This was 2011, a primetime peak point and growth period of Homestuck fan density.” (…) “MSPA crashed, as it had started to during the last few big [S] updates. Hussie had already bought new servers in advance, but even when allegedly thousands of dollars were spent it couldn't handle the accidental DDOS attack of Homestuck fans. People were up all night waiting for this upd8, the curiosity was killing me. I know at some point he was receiving at least 1 million unique visitors per day to his site [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, upwards of 2 million during this time], and even though Hussie had foreseen such traffic and thusly hosted [S] Cascade on Newgrounds, a dedicated video streaming site, Newgrounds was similarly unprepared for the sheer amount of people frantically mashing the play and refresh buttons, and also crashed. Immediately. MSPA and Newgrounds crashed definitively for at least two nights in a row” (…) “Andrew Hussie has gone on record to say this was one of the few times he thought Homestuck wasn’t worth it, because the sheer unbelievable cost (was it $10,000?) [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, it looked like it was going to cost $100,000 to keep [S] Cascade up for several days] of servers and the chaos of no one able to see the upd8 and crashing nearly every site after. He was tweeting during the whole debacle, stating he was reluctant to put it up on Youtube because of all the moving elements of the flash, and style, and how youtube degraded the quality of the file size, and how he tried to scratch out buffer time and pauses by putting periods of silence between each section of the 14 minute upd8, the longest upd8 yet” “So after Newgrounds patooted, he didn’t put it on youtube and instead put up the entire flash file on Megaupload, where it could be downloaded in it’s entirety to be watched. UNFORTUNATELY, Megaupload also crashed very quickly, which Hussie felt much headache over. But before that happened I managed to get the file, since I happened to be up very early that night! Next it was on dropbox, which didn’t crash but had “link unavailable” on and off. ”Spoilers were flying everywhere, people didn’t understand everything that had happened, and by the time the timeline of events in and out of [S] Cascade was all straightened out, people became even MORE hype. Like this whole thing lasted at least four days, and on top of that, the upd8 was good. Fandom exploded.” it is impossible to quantify the experience. The fact hussie was going to have to fork over A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS to host it is crazy. I am never going to be over it.

Cascade's complete obliteration of the Flash-hosting internet says a lot about huge Homestuck truly was - but I think an even bigger indicator of the comic's success is the fact that Hussie dropped literally thousands of dollars on server upgrades to host the thing. That's not an investment you make unless you're expecting some serious returns.

[lesbianherald]

hiii I’m curious : what’s your process for creating your stories? like character development, plotting, creating arcs, etc?

thank you for asking !!! i'm going to get way longer and more thorough about this than necessary I feel it in my bones so I'm going to read more this now (I included a few tidbits from my miro board for carry the blade :) )

it's such a mixed bag ! part of this is my adhd lmao, and part of it is because, genuinely, I think each story needs something different.

almost ALWAYS (with one rare exception of a sci/fi fantasy world I've been building for years) I start with character, especially in original work. Because character is everything it's who we're following it's what the audience/readership will grab onto. Usually I have a basic premise and setting already there, but I don't build on it until I get to know who we're dealing with in the story. And then after building up the premise, setting, and plot I do even more character work after.

sometimes.... sometimes I get really impatient to start and start writing half way through the planning process. But anyways.

so I come up with character. do the basics. think about what their deal is. What is the journey they need to have, the lesson they need to learn, what themes and emotions do I want to explore with this character? Why is she important to me? Why will she be important to others?

I also think a lot about relationships

i just wrote a coming of age dramatic comedy for instance, and for that one, I broke up the story into my protagonists relationships. Wrote out the arc/story of each relationship and then combined each of these arcs into the key points that made up the film. Each relationship I wanted to be relevant to her grieving process, as she had just lost her mother. IDK if that makes sense. I wish I could show you but unfortunately I cannot.

for fic its honestly similar, but we already know character, so I usually ask what about this character/these characters am I most excited to explore.

that being said, coming home came to me in the idea for what they'd be like in modern day, and then a single idea for a single scene - their first kiss in the lab. I wrote that first, then asked myself what the context I wanted to give it was. Of course, I changed it a little once I actually got to writing and fleshing out chapter eight.

but this fantasy fic i'm writing is a fun example. I'm building out a lot. I'm building out characters, the world, the themes. - using visuals to help me kind of guide myself.

but because I have adhd and get impatient. I am outlining throughout this process to keep myself entertained. perhaps ideally you'd figure out everything first then outline then write but my brain just doesn't work that way.

in fics, especially, the relationship is so important that I really like to see how the obstacles they face, both due to their own psychology and internal pressures, can reflect the themes, create tension, etc.

but i also like to reflect on side characters too - their motivations and desires. So they don't just become like - flat little reflections of the central love story.

Finally, and this i learned from acting theory mostly - but I love it - is in each scene I like to think of what each character wants, what they are going to do to try and get that, and why they want it. In this fic, wants are something I also look at from a chapter by chapter basis.

side note - and i'm only saying this this far down so hopefully not too may people will see it - but I do have a secret subplot going on throughout the first half of this story that the audience doesn't know about.

in order to make this work I've been mapping out everything going on behind the scenes, and making sure they pair up well with events that people reading will see. it helps me plant little hints and seeds while hopefully not giving too much away (secret subplot in blue, actual story in red)

sorry i know this is such a ramble I just took my meds and had a double shot of expresso so I am buzzing right now lmao! Obviously I'm not the expert and there's not only one way. And also it really is so different for me every time. It's important to think about what the story actually calls for !

[snailpebbles]

your fic about Chishiya was so good I feel like you captured his character perfectly 😩 will you write more about him? I can barely find any good writings about him and yours is truly so perfect 😔💓

Patchwork Love

pairing: Chishiya Shuntaro x gn!reader

summary: after being injured in a game, Chishiya drags you off and is somehow more silent than usual. What's his problem?

tags: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, they're both so stupid

warnings: descriptions of injuries including blood, non-sexual unwanted touch, emotional constipation, Chishiya cries lmao

a/n: hope you enjoy :) my writing is rusty lol but I love this trope

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Everything was going fine at first; you were on your own in a level three spades game, lightwork! It was a construction zone with many metal rails and walkways, and multiple wide pipes at the very top. The objective was simple - get to the top before the time runs out. At first it was that simple, that is until the freezing cold water began to pour in randomized sections. A game of strength and luck it seems. There were others from the Beach with you, so of course you figured you'd just team up and make sure no one slips. Wrong! To save their own asses just as the four of you were getting towards the top, they used your body as an easier to grip ladder. Not only did you feel violated, you also felt icy cold fear mixing with white hot rage. What the fuck? You pulled those three up so many times at the risk of drowning and for what?

The water pours down on you as they cheer from the top with just two minutes left, freezing and blinding you as you struggle to actually breathe. Two hands on one thin bar that's already trembling under your suspended weight. Fuck. Everything felt like a blur as you hauled your leg over another bar, using all your strength to not drown from the water rushing across you and to pull yourself onto the walkway. For a moment it seems like something had snapped, your leg overstretched and arms overexerted. You aren't built for this! Your life before consisted of studying and absolutely destroying kids on x-box! As you lay on the metal grating, water having ceased with a heaving chest, Chishiyas face flashes in your mind. Well fuck - you're realizing you like him at the worst possible time. With that motivation in mind alongside the need to deck those three in the balls, you force your aching body up the rest of those rails with ten seconds left on the clock.

The three boys are obviously shocked to see you alive and rush off, once again leaving you behind with no transportation back. Lovely.

You aren't quite sure how you managed to get back to Beach but by the time you do, the sun is beginning to rise. Damn, what if they vacated your room? The morning air is chilly and you know you have some sort of hypothermia if your chilled fingertips are anything to go by, not to mention the way your head is beginning to swim - pun intended.

As your torn up, shaking form stumbles through the gates past a few surprised militants and even more surprised party-goers, Kuina barrels towards you. She looks both put together and a mess, her eyes red rimmed and seeming to water - pun intended - as her warm hands cup your ice cold cheeks. She chokes up at this realization and ushers you inside, muttering something about Ann being a little busy with some project as she leads you two to a familiar door.

Chishiyas face, as calm as ever, cracks when Kuina barges in. He's up in an instant and wasting no time as apparently one look at you is enough to know what you need - or maybe he just knows you. A blanket is around your shoulders before you can blink and now you're on his bed, unfortunately not in the context you'd wish for now. Kuina runs off after Chishiya instructs her to get a whole load of things, but you honestly have no idea what because you're too busy staring at him. Chishiyas face is contorted in a way you've never seen before or at least haven't been the recipient of. His eyes are focused in solely on you, his brows furrowed and typical smirk gone in favor of a grimace. Most notable are his hands resting heavy on your shoulders as if you'd shrug the warm blanket off. Those hands you now realize match those in your dreams are surprisingly warm and unsurprisingly steady - Chishiya was a little less smart than you thought if he didn't know by now that you knew of his profession. The idea of him in a doctors coat distracts you as he gets up from where he was crouched in front of you, reappearing with bandages and disinfectant.

"So..how'd your game go?" You break the awkward silence and feel your cheeks warm at how scratchy your voice is. Must've been the borderline constant drowning. His sharp gaze makes you almost flinch with the weight in it, your own eyes dropping back to your lap. Of course he doesn't respond, only making some vaguely disapproving noises as those eyes scan your wounds. His silence begins to piss you off, that rage from earlier being misdirected at him. Seriously, you almost died in a frankly horrific way and this is all he has to give?

"I can patch myself up. I'm not helpless." The tension rises, twisting uncomfortably in your gut as Chishiya stays in place while you glare at him. With a huff as he refuses to speak, you get up on weak legs. This seems to snap him out of it as he grabs your hips - and just at the right time. Your legs give way as the exhaustion hits all at once to only fuel that anger, a frustrated sound coming from you as Chishiya tuts disapprovingly again.

"Stay still. You're hurt and too tired to move." His voice is rough and annoyingly calm. Is he allergic to worrying? You obey though as he unravels the bandages and uncaps the disinfectant, steeling yourself for the following pain.

The blond has the grace to look at least a little apologetic at every wince and soft cry your battered form gives, even letting you hold onto either his shoulders or jacket. The cuts, scraps, bruises, and blood staining your body worry him even if he doesn't show it. Images begin flashing in his mind of internal bleeding, broken ribs, torn muscles-

"Are you..crying?" Your soft voice breaks the less tense silence, your own tears having dried up some time ago. Chishiya pales as he becomes aware of the liquid dripping down his cheeks and hastily wipes them away, refusing to meet your gaze or lift his head.

"No." He replies shortly, heart picking up its pace as he realizes he has to patch your torn hands. You follow his gaze and readily hold both hands out, skin raw and bleeding still. He winces internally at the sight of your beautiful hands so heavily marred.

Warmth spreads through you as he takes your hand in his non-dominant one to carefully disinfect it, whispering apologies as you hold back cries of pain. Somehow you aren't too shocked by this display of care, an inner part of you having sensed something was different by the lingering looks and the way he is always there. Chishiya wraps your hand with a gentleness you weren't sure he possessed, repeating the process with your other hand until every wound is patched up. Not a word was properly shared, your eyes rarely met, and you didn't comment again on the occasional slip of tears you caught.

"Go change in the bathroom." He mutters after passing you actual clothes, aka his own sweatpants and a t shirt. Once you step back out of the bathroom - definitely not after taking a moment to admire yourself in his clothes - Chishiya does just what you definitely didn't. The admiration is well hidden yet you catch it in the way he turns his head slightly to the left and steps back, as if you're a danger.

"These are really comfy, thanks." An appreciative smile brightens your face and threatens to blind him, so he sits down where you were moments earlier. You take a seat beside him and try to hide your steadily growing flustered state when that damn white jacket is placed around your shoulders. He says nothing so neither do you, the silence now companionable even as sparks burn its edges.

"What happened." It's not a question and you know that, just as you know what happened isn't your fault. The tears, anger and irrational shame, prick your eyes anyways. He doesn't comment, he only takes your pinkie with his.

After a deep inhale and calming exhale, you speak. "It was an easy spades game and I teamed up with three guys from here, but towards the end they just.." You choke up momentarily, but with the way his hand moves to rub your forearm, you know you'll get it out.

"They knocked me down so I was hanging and used me like a fucked up bridge- their hands were everywhere and I know it was for survival only but it was so..so dehumanizing." The words come out softer and softer until you aren't even sure Chishiya can hear, but he does. He only ever listens for you. His face is as calm as ever as you cry, arm light as it wraps around your shoulder to bring you into the only safe haven you have in this fucked up place.

Time passes, you aren't sure how much but you are sure you've dozed off, yet Chishiya hasn't moved once. He holds you close and his fingers still rub circles on your shoulder, mindful of a bruise there as he's memorized your injuries. There's some snacks and another blanket on the small dresser, presumably brought by Kuina.

Chishiya knows you've slipped into that numb state, so he doesn't mind helping you eat some crackers and drink that tea you're so obsessed with. He doesn't mind keeping you right there, right where he can protect you and you can rest; where you can heal yourself. What he does mind is you deciding to break out of this numbness by pestering him.

"You cried." You whisper, poking his chest lightly as his arms tenses around you. For a moment you fear you may have misjudged the air and his actions, envy flooding - pun unintended - through you at the idea that maybe all his patients get such treatment. His answer calms your thoughts.

"Yes, you could say I was..worried. Don't do that again." His warm breath brushes across the top of your head and a faint smile tugs at your lips from the slight roughness to his typically smooth voice. Your head props up on his chest so you can see him and he can't resist looking down at you. His eyebrow raises in a silent question that has you grin, that familiar smirk returning.

"If it gets me this treatment.."

"No."

"Worth a shot."

"..You don't need to be hurt to get my attention." The one-sided banters comes to a halt as your eyes widen, staring at his ever calm face like he hand painted the stars for you. If he could, he would.

With a slight grunt you manage to sit up a little better, worry flickering over Chishiyas face at your show of pain. Damn you could get used to this. Words aren't his thing so what better communication than action? Even with bandages, your hands ever so carefully cup his jaw, moving slowly incase he doesn't want this.

Chishiya really fucking wants this. With the way you're being so gentle, so considerate, when others in his life haven't almost keels him over. But you're injured, mentally and physically, so slow and steady will win this race. The kiss is soft and unhurried, as if there isn't an invisible timer looming over your heads. Time is irrelevant when he whispers your name oh so quietly and his hand oh so carefully caresses your matching tear stained cheek. With every touch, every shared breath, the previous hands are washed away for now. They'll haunt you at night but Chishiya will be there to wipe them away, whether that be with affection or simply being there as you get a snack to soothe your brain.

You know why he cried, why he looked so worried, why it's his clothes you're wearing, and why Kuina said Ann was busy when you actually passed by her lounging in the hall. He loves and he cares, the same as you. It only took almost losing you to realize it.

As you separate slowly and lay down, drawn together as if magnets, you drift off. Chishiya waits patiently as your breath evens out before slipping away.

It's the next morning when you wake up alone in the cold bed, insecure heartbreak seeping in until Chishiya quietly walks into the room, not hesitating with the gentle squeeze to your shoulder and kiss to your head. No words are exchanged when you settle in the chair next to him by his desk, watching him build who knows what as you munch away on those snacks. His ankle his hooked with yours and that is all that matters - you can ignore the split knuckles and prideful hint to his face because he's yours, and you're his.

[thefirstknife]

I wasn't aware of the discussions around Eramis being that rancid, personally (although I tend not to look at online discussion around media in general, thanks to how skin-deep at best much of it tends to be).

But the way you've talked about it makes me wonder how much of the people complaining about Eramis's character development are coming at it from a dislike of the idea of that redemption being a thing at all- the perspective that Doing Bad Things makes someone A Bad Person who can no longer be A Good Person, essentially. Seems like that mentality has grown... if not more common, at least louder, over time.

(Although your comment about not seeing why they'd 'pull a shocking twist for the sake of pulling a shocking twist to spite the audience' is a little funny in a sad way, considering how many people seem to think "outwit the audience and surprise them" is more important than "tell a coherent story as well as possible", even changing things if a twist is leaked, even if whatever they change it to makes no damn sense.)

It's really bad out there and it's strange for the exact reason you listed, because the same communities have previously entertained redemption ideas about characters like Calus and even Clovis; characters who have never expressed any wish to change or any beliefs that they may be in the wrong, no regrets and no remorse for what they've done.

So I can't even figure out if this with Eramis is about not wanting redemption stories. I think it's more about Eramis herself; not only is she a female character, but she's very largely and easily misunderstood. A lot of people's interaction with Beyond Light was... not entirely invested (a lot of the community was at the time mad about vaulting and hated everything new on principle), and her other storylines are in seasonal content that's gone now and that was almost universally hated; she was brought back in Plunder and then reappeared briefly in Defiance. A lot of people approached her from the get-go as "just some villain we will kill in the campaign" and then that didn't happen and these people were confused because they never paid any attention to her story. And then by the end of it, it just kinda slipped them by.

I don't know honestly. I may be overthinking it, but I definitely think that a lack of understanding of her story plays a huge role. Whether that's because they missed her story or just didn't pay attention to it or just had no interest in it - and nobody online they interact with offered any insight into her character (lore youtube) - they just don't get what's the fuss and they don't care about her. Some might say this is because the game didn't make people want to care, but I simply disagree. While I enjoy Eliksni stories, they're by far not at the top of my list of favourite things in Destiny so I don't have any special attachment to Eliksni characters, I didn't know Eramis before BL and I was never a diehard fan of her, but I understood her story and what they wanted to do with her for the past 4 years.

And I was happy that she got her character arc completed as was intended. I saw where it was going and this solution is the only one that made sense to me. So I don't think the whole "the game didn't make me care enough because it was badly set up" really holds water. The game can't put thoughts into your brain, sometimes you have to actually think about characters for yourself. Like, we shouldn't have to be spoon-fed that hard. Her arc and the setup was clear and it was written into the game's story, a lot of it even outside of lore books ("It was just in the lore books!" is a major complaint a lot of the time, and one I personally find baffling. You're in the Lore Books The Game. If you don't like lore being in lore books, you're in the wrong place).

We could honestly discuss this to no end, and everyone who dislikes Eramis or the conclusion to her story would probably have a different reason for it, or there would at least be a couple of them, not wanting redemption included. Could also be a combination - not understanding her story will lead a lot of people to think that her being redeemed makes no sense and that it wasn't supposed to happen.

I think it's also a case of people having a really hard time understanding that a character can be our ally while still hating our guts. I've seen plenty of comments from people saying they're annoyed about Eramis constantly being antagonistic towards us. This is baffling to me, because again, it makes sense that she doesn't like us. And it would be bizarre if all Eliksni were now suddenly fans of humanity like a hivemind. Some will never like us. This is good. They will still help us because there's bigger fish to fry, but they don't have to like us.

Eramis was a delight this episode to me and she was a really interesting character. She wasn't a huge deal overall and some of her story was fairly on the sidelines, but she was a very unique "villain" and antagonist to us since she was introduced and I think that her character arc was very well done all things considered. This amount of resistance and dislike for her from the wider community is something I simply can't see as anything other than a lack of understanding of the story (personal reasons and stuff like "I get it, I just don't really care that much" not included).

[sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan]

Introducing…

Ex!BSF/BF!Matt x Reader

Warnings/Contents: fluff, mentions of characters being hurt – physically, mentally, & emotionally, internet trolls, break up, ANGST !

Note: This is an original idea of mine. Please inbox or personal message me if you'd like to use any of these characters as 'inspiration' of some sort !

(If any of this seems familiar, like you've already read it before – you most likely have! I took bits and pieces of a previously written work called 'Silently Suffering' and either copied it or edited it to fit the background information of this introduction)

To read more about this au, click here !

I do NOT give permission for my work(s) to be copied, translated, or re-uploaded to ANY site !

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Taglist: @forgottxen @ariastur9z @watercolorskyy @daniel-is-bae

Comment, personal message, or ask via my inbox to be added to my taglist !

Reblogs are always appreciated, but never needed :)

The divider is by a random Pinterest creator

Enjoy 💜💙🧡 ☆ :) $

How It All Started

Reader and the triplets all grew up together in Somerville, Massachusetts – going to the same school and everything.

One day while at recess, little kindergartner Reader was simply swinging on the playground's swing, minding her own business.

Meanwhile, the triplets were kicking and passing around a soccer ball – their mom had wanted to sign them up for soccer that evening.

All of a sudden, Nick made a bad pass to Chris. The ball went flying – straight into the back of Reader's head.

She looked around the playground, trying to find the reason for her now throbbing head. She picked up the ball and marched over to them, angrily ready to tell them off.

Her anger faltered, confusion glazed over her expression just slightly. It appeared as if she were seeing triple. Three same faced, slightly freckled dirty-blonde boys stood in a row, eyeing her sheepishly.

She tossed the ball onto the ground as she spoke sassily, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to hit girls?” One of the boys at the end spoke up, "It was an accident, we swear!"

She had rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with her foot, tapping the mulch angrily. “Well, I expect an apology because that hurt!” Her eyes had drifted towards the boy standing in the middle.

His eyes stared back at her with this look of intensity in them that caused her stomach to churn with butterflies. "I'm sorry about that. Our brother, Nick, isn't very athletic like Chris and I,” the boy had said, pointing to his brother on one side, then at his other before holding his hand out for her to shake.

"I'm Matt, by the way. And yes, before you ask, we are triplets,” she couldn't help but laugh at his words. She was sure they were constantly getting asked that.

She took his hand in hers, shaking up and down once before quickly letting go. His hand was warm, presumably from working up a sweat playing soccer. Hers were clammy too from gripping the handles of the swing. “Wanna play with us?” Nick had offered.

She quickly agreed, kicking and passing the ball around with the three brothers. From then on, the four of them remained close. Like a tight-knit group of friends.

How They Got Together

Throughout elementary and middle school, they all remained good friends. That was until around sixth or seventh grade, when Reader caught feelings for Matt.

Sure, he was attractive and pretty to the eyes, but that wasn't what drew her near to him. It was the kindness of his heart. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about one of his interests. It was his smile. The one that made her heart absolutely melt anytime she saw it.

She always kept her feelings to herself. Not wanting to ruin the friendship between her and him. Or even mess up the dynamic between her and his brothers.

But anyone could see it. The way she stared at him, like he was the only person in the room. Even if it was crowded, her eyes always looked for him.

When freshman year of high school started for the four of them, that's when it all changed. Matt had finally noticed her – in more than a friendly way.

It was soccer season again. Matt and Chris never dropped the sport they grew to love in kindergarten. Nick and Reader did though. They were in the photography club together. The only two.

Because Nick was Chris and Matt's triplet, he had to go to their games anyway. So he thought, 'why not take photos of the team for the school's yearbook?'

Of course, being the only other person in the club, as well as being best friends with the boys, Reader had decided to tag along to assist with the photos.

The rain was pouring down hard during a particularly close match. Matt was a striker along with Chris. He was about to score, a good strong pass from a midfielder aiming straight towards him.

Until he slipped. He ended up landing oddly on his ankle. Reader ran onto the field, ignoring the protests of the people around her or the way that the rain was beating down onto her skin. All she cared about was making sure Matt was okay.

When she got to him, he was lying on the ground, groaning out in pain. She dropped to her knees, gently placing his head in her lap. She held his cheeks as she looked down at him with worry.

Matt smiled up at her, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears. Reader couldn't tell though. It was raining too harshly. His hand weakly reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, staring into her eyes lovingly.

That's when it happened. Matt had leaned up, connecting their lips in a soft, tender kiss. He tried putting all his emotions into it. Reader was shocked at first, and did not kiss him back. His confidence faltered – 'had I been reading this wrong the entire time?' – so he tried pulling away.

Only to be met with her lips right back on his. Her pent-up emotions – the frustration of having to hold back how she truly felt for so long, the love and desire to be his, the longing of wanting, needing to be his, all of it – seeped into the second kiss they shared.

When they pulled away, they were breathless and smiling. MaryLou and Jimmy had rushed onto the field with Nick following closely behind. Chris was too busy goofing off with his teammates, telling them all about how he just knew Matt and Reader would be together.

Where It All Went Wrong

When the triplets had started their group socials, Reader had created her own. About the same time that the boys were going viral, so was Reader. They were featured on each other's platforms quite often in the early parts of their careers.

They each told the viewers from the beginning – Matt and Reader were together. They loved each other dearly.

When the boys moved to LA, so did Reader. Matt and his brothers bought their house and had a manager oversee everything, while Reader maintained her things by herself.

Reader had an apartment not far from the Sturniolo's new home. A five-minute drive – if that. It was within walking distance. Which Matt and Reader both enjoyed and took full advantage of.

The first few months with the four of them in Los Angeles were going well. They were thriving, living their life exactly how they had always dreamed.

Until, five months into their new lives in LA, things went downhill. Fast. Madi, their manager's daughter, had started to receive extreme hate from the triplet's fanbase. As was Reader.

Reader couldn't take it anymore. So she broke up with him. She broke up with Matt, much in the same way she got together with him.

It was a rainy day out, the sky a dark, sad, shade of gray that fit the mood of the Sturniolo Triplet's home quite well. Reader had told Matt that she couldn't – wouldn't – handle all of this negativity from his fans any longer.

Matt's reaction was heartbreaking. He was upset, and understandably so. The love of his life wanted to walk away. Wanted to call it quits. He couldn't deal. His eyes showed the pain he was feeling. The way he was hurting.

As Reader walked out the door for the last time, Matt broke down. She didn't spare him a final glance like he'd hoped. She was done. Done with the relentless hate that she was receiving, simply for loving and being Matt's partner.

They were both broken. Both hurt. Every social media post, every video felt empty without the other by their side. Not only had Reader and Matt lost each other romantically, they had also lost each other in a friendly way too.

Reader didn't even talk to Nick or Chris anymore either. All communication, all ties leading to the triplets, had been cut off. Permanently.

What Are They Doing Now?

It's been three months. Three painful months of not having the other by their side. Three excruciating months of having to act like they are fine. Like their worlds weren't crumbling to the ground. Neither Matt nor Reader was okay.

They tried to hide it. Tried to pretend that they were fine. That there was no hurt. That there was no anguish. But that's a lie. Not only are they lying to themselves, but they are lying to those around them as well.

Reader and Matt made other friends in LA. Other influencers and people besides each other. Reader had these other friends besides the Sturniolo's. But it wasn't the same. The connection wasn't the same.

Reader missed Nick's sass. Reader missed the way he wouldn't be afraid to call someone out about something, no matter what the situation may have been. Reader missed the way they were able to tell each other anything. Like how in high school, Reader was one of the first people Nick came out to – even before his own brothers.

Reader missed Chris's goofy personality. Reader missed the way he was always able to make her laugh, no matter what the situation may have been. Reader missed the fact that he was the first person to support the relationship between her and Matt. Like the time Matt took Reader to New York just a month before they broke up. It was just the two of them. Chris immediately supported the idea.

Most of all, though, Reader missed Matt. Reader missed everything about Matt. From the way that his hair fell into his eyes when it needed to be cut to the way that he drank his coffee. She missed it all. Everything. Every detail, big and small. She missed it. She missed him.

The boys had missed her too, but it was Matt who sat up in his room at late hours of the night. Wondering where he went wrong. Wondering what he could've done differently to make her stay. Wondering who exactly was to blame for their separation. Wondering when these intense feelings of hurt and pain would end. Wondering why the world – specifically the Internet – had to be so cruel to push away the love of his life. Wondering how he could possibly fix it, possibly erase the damage.

It was frustrating. Watching the other pretend on a screen for their millions of fans watching. Watching the other pretend that everything was fine. Watching but not talking. Watching but not touching. Watching but not holding. It was frustrating.

There was no going back. Not attempting to make up for the lost time from the past three months. The days, the hours, the minutes, the seconds – all this time that had passed. None of it would be taken back. None of the wreckage – from their hearts, their minds, or even their souls – would ever be mended.

People could tell. People could see. People could notice. People were aware of just how miserable Reader and Matt truly were. But neither ever said a word. Neither ever told anyone how they were truly feeling inside. Inside their minds. Inside their hearts. Inside their souls.

[microwavesaferat]

I'm so unexcited for the Christopher Nolan Odyssey Film.

There's so many things I'm just dreading, like as a mythology buff (admittedly, not an expert, just a bit of a special interest), I'm gonna lose it if a film guy starts mansplaining about Homeric hymns to me. Like, keep talking about how the suitors were actually doing what was right for the time and I will kick you in your shriveled nutsack.

I also saw the cast list and nearly shed a tear. They all have fucking iPhone face. I'm sorry, Tom Holland as Telemachus (potentially)???? Like, oh it's so sad your dad is missing and stuff, but did you remember to take your ozempic today? Like all the cast have iPhone face. Unless this is gonna be a weird modern retelling (which also worries me), I won't be able to imagine Zendaya as Athena (potentially) without her whipping out a Google pixel to text Zeus.

I was talking to people and we ended up making our own cast list of some of the major roles.

Cast List

Odysseus - Antonia Banderas

My mother saw him in Paddington 3 and has instructed me to include him as he is, in her words, "fit". In my opinion, someone like Liam Neeson, Mads Mikelson or Michael Fassbender. I just don't want a poorly disguised American accent. Like I get you might not get a Greek actor or even one with a similar accent, but please not a straight American accent or badly done accent.

Penelope - Michelle Yeoh

Nolan is rumoured to have cast Anne Hathaway, which I am also kind of fine with, so I'm not too worried about that. I think Michelle would be great as a cunning, loyal wife to Odysseus and I also think she could channel a great amount of contempt towards the suitors. I never find Anne Hathaway to be convincingly angry in scenes, distraught and afraid, yes, but I think Michelle could really embody that disgust Penelope has.

Athena - Cate Blanchet

I think Athena needs to be played by an older actor. I get the Gods are ageless, but she needs to give the appearance of wisdom and I think Cate Blanchet always looks like she's planning and thinking. The issue with Zendaya is not just that she has iPhone face, but she is too young. Your mind immediately says that she's too young to be that wise. It's a trait commonly associated with older people as it relates to experience, and Zendaya just doesn't look experienced.

Poiseiden - Gerard Butler

Hear me out, I think the Gods (other than Athena) should only appear in voice and not in person. For the scale of things, an actor floating in the air with cgi waves doesn't really look that menacing in the scale of things, especially compared to 50 boats. And I don't want a big cgi water monster thing either. I think the voice should carry on the waves, a shout accompanied by a crash of water, the temper rising as does the waves. I think it's more threatening to hear his voice booming as the boat is rocked, there's a fear of pissing him off more cause, if he gets much louder, you might just capsize. My mother wanted to also say, in a perfect world, it would actually be Billy Connolly, but he hasn't acted in years now due to Parkinson's. The rumour is that Nolan has cast Robert Pattinson and, while he was threatening as the Batman, I don't think it's the right kind of threatening required for the role. If he was doing this as a voice acting role, maybe, we know he has amazing range from the Boy and the Heron.

Zues - Patrick Page

Listen to Little Songbird or Hellfire and tell me he doesn't sound like Thunder. Moving on.

Circe - Nicole Kidman

Circe is a complex character and I think she needs to be portrayed that way. I don't want a young actor who beguiles older Odysseus with her youth. I need Circe to have that wisdom and experience that Penelope also has. I think it could be an interesting idea to even have them played by the same person. This all depends on how close the movie will be to the original epic anyway. My main stipulation is that she needs to remind Odysseus of Penelope.

Calypso - Lupita Nyong'o

The articles I've read actually suggest her as Circe, which I wouldn't mind either, I just wanted someone older for Circe. I think Calypso is also a complex character that must be portrayed as such. Essentially I think Lupita would be able to embody both the woman madly in love with Odysseus and also the Goddess keeping him here for her entertainment. From seeing her in Us, I know she has an amazing range and is able to show the threatening side to Calypso required. It doesn't work if it seems like Odysseus has the upper hand at any point.

Telemachus - Thomas Brodie Sangster

I really struggled here cause a lot of young actors look too modern for a lot of period pieces. It's also important that Telemachus isn't some chiseled, huge guy. I also think, given we would probably check in on him multiple times during the movie, Thomas is good at looking young and old at the same time. Another option would maybe be Joe Locke.

This post is long already so I'm not doing the rest of the characters. I have nothing against the actors Nolan has gone with, I just don't think they fit well. I'm also heavily biased from listening to Epic and Hadestown a lot.

Lmk your suggestions, as always, these are just my thoughts and a lot of them aren't even well thought out.

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: trauma. mentions of suicide and sh tendencies. sadness. feelings catching up to reader

#NOTES: none i can think about. not a very action-y chapter, it's y/n-centered. enjoy!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

Vaportrail visited you sometimes.

Not physically, because that was impossible. She was, hopefully, somewhere within the whereabouts of Cybertropolis and as far away as possible from Kaon and all its terrible danger. You hoped some compassionate bot had taken her in. Deep down, you knew that she was better off without you. The thought of her smiling in a place far from you filled you with a sort of solace; her chances of a brighter future seemed much greater when separated from your own tumultuous existence.

Still, you had no idea why she would come to you in your dreams.

Vaportrail, look at me.

Peculiarly, it was always the same dream. You sat on your old berth, in your old berthroom, in your old satellite. You were facing Vaportrail, sitting on her carrier’s berth, messing with one of the gadgets from Starlight’s toolbox. The sparkling was quiet, never saying a word, unaware of what had happened that very day. Unaware that her carrier was now dead. Buried beneath the ground of the very same satellite she resided in.

Vaportrail, please look at me.

You would try opening your intake to voice what your processor was screaming, but nothing would come out. You so desperately wanted to find the right words, but they were failing you. There was nothing to say. What could you tell little Vaportrail? What could mend her gaping existence that her loving carrier used to fill?

I know you’re upset but look at me.

One of your old comrades had filled you in on what had happened. Turns out, in a fit of rage, the mech Starlight was visiting had smashed her helm against the wall or something like that. 

Don’t just sit there.

She didn’t look at you. Not once. Vaportrail's optics remained fixed on the gadget in her small servos, her movements unrushed, gentle, as though she had all the time in the world to figure out how it worked. A small smile formed on her face as she giggled at it.

Vaportrail, please, I’m sorry.

You tried to move closer, but your frame felt locked in place. The berth beneath you groaned as if protesting your presence, a stark reminder of how long it had been since you last sat there. Every attempt to speak, to call her name, was met with silence—a void where your voice should have been. The weight of the words you wanted to say bore down on your spark, growing heavier with each second.

Look at me.

Finally, her tiny optics flickered up, meeting yours for the briefest of moments. A thousand emotions surged through you—relief, guilt, fear. But her expression was unreadable, her gaze distant, as if she wasn’t genuinely seeing you. Instead, she turned back to the gadget, her movements now faster, more erratic.

VAPORTRAIL, DON’T JUST SIT THERE AND LOOK AT ME.

You wanted to reach out, to hold her close and tell her that you were sorry. Sorry for not being there. Sorry for letting her down. Instead, she opened her intake.

“Why are you here?”

Her voice was soft, almost too quiet to hear, but it struck like a blade to your spark. You swallowed thickly at her words as they collided with you more than any punch that had ever been thrown at you. Her tone wasn’t accusing, just...matter-of-fact. Her optics remained downcast, focused on the device in her servos, as though the weight of her words was too much to bear.

“Vaportrail,” you finally managed, your voice cracked and unfamiliar even to yourself. “I... I—”

“Go back. Leave me alone.” Her voice trembled with a sharp edge as she shook her helm, cutting you off. The disdain in her gaze was piercing, something you would never have suspected the petite femmeling could harbor within her gentle spark. She had always been a beacon of sweetness and patience, never once voicing a complaint. What had happened?

As you watched, her delicate frame began to glitch, the outlines of her figure flickering intermittently like a holographic image losing its clarity. Panic surged through you as you instinctively reached out, desperate to grab hold of her fragile form and pull her back into reality. But your servos passed through her as if she were made of nothing more than mist, dissipating into the air.

This time, she actually recoiled at you, her optics dimming in horror at your futile gesture. Disgust twisted her features, and she flinched away from your outstretched servos, which, despite their strength, held no power over her ephemeral existence. “I don’t want you here! I don’t like you!”

Her words shattered you. You were sure that, from the outside, one would be able to hear the sound of your spark breaking into a million pieces.

“Wait!” you cried out, your voice finally breaking free of whatever had bound it. “Vaportrail, please— I didn’t—”

She looked at you again.

“You let her die. You let it happen.”

And then she was gone.

Usually, your optics would flash open right after she disappeared into your arms, and you would find yourself in your new berth, in your new berthroom. The transition was always jarring, like being ejected from one universe into another. The cold, metallic walls of your quarters seemed to mock the warmth and comfort you had just lost. The dream lingered, stubborn as a phantom, her presence clinging to the edges of your mind like static you couldn’t tune out. You’d reach out reflexively, grasping at nothing, before the crushing realization set in—it was just a dream.

Whenever you awoke from one of these dreams, that urge to bash your helm against the wall reared its ugly head, and you held back the biting compulsion to snap your own spark in half with a jab of your blade. It was a cycle you had grown far too familiar with. The fleeting hope that this time might be different—that maybe you’d wake up somewhere else, someone else—quickly curdled into the same stale despair.

But as much as these thoughts consumed you, there were more immediate threats to face. In spite of your unsettling self-hatred and need for self-flagellation, you had to focus on the gladiatorial pits. Which gladiators would bash your helm or snap your spark today if you crossed them in the arena? The thought was bitterly ironic: why kill yourself alone, when there were others outside who would gladly do the job for you?

Luckily, those horrible thoughts only lasted for about an hour each day. By then, you were fully activated, your systems humming with purpose as you threw yourself into the grind. Routine became your armor, shielding you from the corrosive weight of your emotions. Days blurred as you survived your matches, sparred with either Echo or Bluey, or learned new factors about your fellow gladiators when watching their matches.

You still cried when you were alone. A lot. But at least you were productive. At least you were moving forward, even if it felt like walking in circles in a cage you could never escape.

Nighttime was the only period you allowed your old self to resurface, the self you tried so hard to bury beneath layers of cynicism and cold practicality. In the quiet hours, when the pits fell silent and the lights dimmed, you let the memories flood in. You could see her so neatly: she still stood there with a mining pickaxe, trying to make herself smaller in the shadow of everything around her. Her frame seemed fragile, her servos trembling, but despite it all, she carried a smile on her dermas and a perfectly good spark.

It wasn’t just a smile; it was a lifeline. A promise that things could be better. She had believed that once. And in these moments, you almost dared to believe it too. You would sit in the dim glow of your quarters, the weight of the day pressing on your plating, and let yourself grieve for the person you used to be. It wasn’t a weakness, you told yourself. It was a release. A way to siphon off the pressure before it crushed you entirely. Catharsis.

What a nightmare it is to change.

──────────────────────────────────

The clang of blades reverberated inside the sparring room, the sharp sound echoing off the metallic walls. You sluggishly sprung around his pelts as Bluey’s blade sliced through the air in a fluid arc. His movements were meticulous but uniform, holding back just enough to keep the friendly session from turning into something that could potentially have an impact on either of you bodily-wise. You parried his next swing, the head of your hammer catching his long blade as the impact vibrated up your arm like a jolt of static, and pushed off to create distance.

“You’re pulling your hits again,” Bluey said, optics narrowing as he adjusted his stance. “What’s wrong with you today? Come on. You’re better than this.”

You let out a breath, your grip tightening on the handle of your weapon.

“I’m fine,” you replied, circling him warily. The words felt thin, stretched too tight around the truth.

The truth was, you weren’t better—not today, at least. The dreams had drained you again, leaving you bereft and reeling. You didn’t like how hostile your subconscious turned you toward others and how it influenced you inside the pits. Before, you had never been violent. You didn’t know why you let it out on others, but it was profoundly affecting you. 

But Bluey’s persistence wasn’t as irritating as it would have been from others, had they attempted to talk to you. If anything, it was grounding.

His helm tilted, his expression skeptical. “If by ‘fine’ you mean distracted and half-asleep, then sure.” He lunged, his blade arcing toward your side. You barely managed to block it, the force pushing you back a step. “But last I checked, being distracted gets you killed. So, try again.”

You gritted your denta and surged forward, your hammer swinging wide. Bluey dodged with with an ease that irritated you, twisting to the side and countering with a quick jab that sent you stumbling. He didn’t press the attack, though. Instead, he paused, watching you with an almost brotherly patience.

“Seriously,” he said, lowering his blade slightly. “What’s going on? You’ve been off for days.”

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, your optics flicking to the floor. The harsh lighting inside the room cast long shadows between the two of you, but whereas Bluey’s was small and unassuming, safely tucked underneath him, yours stretched high and twisting, draping the distance between you. Bluey didn’t say anything at first, his silence heavier than any words. When it became clear he wasn’t going to drop it, you sighed, lifting your weapon again. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Right,” Bluey said, “And I’m a bot fresh out of the Well. Look, I’m not trying to pry, but you’re not doing yourself any favors bottling this up.”

“I’m fine,” you said again, more forcefully this time. You swung at him again, hammer crashing against his blade with a satisfying clang. Now, your shadow engulfed him, but he didn’t budge, holding his ground like a fortress.

“Sure you are,” he said, meeting your gaze. “And that’s why you’re fighting like your processor stuck in low gear. Whatever’s going on, it’s eating you alive. Talk to me, or at least do something about it.”

Your hammer slipped down, the weight of his words sinking deep into your plating. He wasn't wrong. The burden of grieving both for the living and for the dead was murderous. You didn’t meet his optics, focusing instead on the way his servos adjusted their grip on his weapon. Finally, after a long pause, your gaze rose.

“Do you know what got me so angry during my first match?”

Bluey blinked, lowering his blade a fraction.

“No,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “But I’ve been wondering. You looked like you were done for, and then suddenly… it was like a whole different bot out there. I figured it was adrenaline, maybe desperation.”

You nodded. The memory bubbled up, vivid and sharp as ever. “It was. But… not just that.” You hesitated, the words tangling inside your voicebox. Finally, you pushed them out. “I saw someone. In my mind, I mean. A face. My Amica Endura.”

Bluey straightened, his optics fixed on you with a quiet intensity. “Your Amica Endura?”

“Her name was Starlight,” you said, the sound of her name hurting your spark. “She was… everything. The kind of bot who makes you believe in things. In yourself. She was the first to make me feel like I could do anything. That I was worth something. And she’s gone.”

Bluey didn’t interrupt, his silence inviting you to continue. You shifted, your weapon tapping lightly against the floor as you tried to steady yourself. “She was killed. Just like that. By a random mech she was visiting.”

The words felt heavy, each one dragging up memories you had tried so hard to bury. You didn’t realize your servos were trembling until Bluey stepped closer, his frame casting a long shadow over yours. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That’s... a lot. No one should have to carry that alone.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shifting your weight to lean on your hammer. “It felt like my whole world fell apart. And when I was out there, in the pit, about to lose—about to die—all I could see was her face. How scared she must have felt against someone twice her size, how helpless, and all I could feel was anger.”

Bluey tilted his helm, his optics studying you with an unreadable expression. “So, you fought for her.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding slowly. “But it’s not just that. I fought because... I was angry. At everything. Angry at the mech who took her from me. Angry at myself for not being there for her. And I guess part of me thought that if I survived, it would mean something. That maybe I could... make up for it, somehow.”

For a moment, there was only the hum of your cooling systems and the faint buzz of the overhead lights, their sterile glow casting muted reflections on the metal floor. Bluey’s optics softened, their vibrant hue a rare source of warmth in the otherwise cold room. Slowly, he stepped closer, his movements unhurried, deliberate, as though afraid to push you too far. His blade lowered entirely, the tip hovering just above the floor.

“That’s a lot to carry,” he said gently, his voice steady but tinged with empathy. “But it doesn’t have to define you. You’ve got strength—real strength. Not just in your servos, but in here.” He tapped his chassis, just over where his spark pulsed with life.

You swallowed hard, your optics fixed on a distant point beyond him. “Sometimes it feels like it’s all I am. Just... anger and regret. I don’t know if fighting here is about survival anymore or if I’m just trying to outrun it.”

Bluey tilted his helm, his optics softening. “You’re not just anger, Y/N. And you’re not alone, no matter how much it might feel like it. You’ve got more strength in you than you realize. And not just the kind that keeps you alive in the pits. You have spirit. Everyone else agrees.”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at something deep within you, pulling your optics back to meet his. For a moment, you saw something there—an unspoken consideration, speechless yet unmistakable, etched into the gentle contours of his expression. He wasn’t just offering encouragement; he was offering solidarity.

The weight of his words settled into your spark, not heavy, but grounding. It wasn’t absolution or a promise that things would be easier, but it was enough to make you believe, even if only for a fleeting moment, that you weren’t completely alone. That maybe, just maybe, there was more to you than the swirling emotions that had become your constant companions.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m still figuring it out.”

“And that’s okay,” Bluey said, stepping back into his stance with a slight smirk. “But you’ll figure it out faster if you stop holding back. Now, let’s go again. And this time, try not to make me look like a mech picking on a sparkling.”

Despite yourself, a faint smile tugged at your dermas. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’ve been going easy on you.”

“Sure you have,” he teased, his optics glinting with challenge. “Prove it.”

You raised your weapon, a spark of determination flaring to life in your chassis. As you lunged forward, the weight in your spark didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 11

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 11 of 12!

Chapter 11

His sister's screams were bloodcurdling.

Charles had known that birth was a painful, messy affair, that it was never easy, but actually hearing his sister’s very real, very painful screams from the room beyond was a truly eye-opening experience. He didn’t know how women could survive this, frankly.

Arthur looked green around the gills, not helped by the white bandage on his forehead…which apparently had been the result of him fainting and being taken down by the corner of a hospital bed. 

"I am never having kids," Arthur said, swallowing heavily.

"I am rethinking my family planning as well," Lorenzo said weakly. "I don't think I can stand seeing Charlotte go through that pain."

Arthur grimaced as another scream came ringing out from the room. “I think I am scheduling a vasectomy tomorrow,” he said faintly. “This absolutely confirms it as a good life decision for me.”

"I think that's the concussion talking," Charles tried to assure his brother, as another scream rang out.

On second thought…maybe Arthur was onto something.

And just at that moment, Colette's scream suddenly broke off. They froze—all of them.

Absolute silence rang through the room. Charles was afraid to even breathe. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of the door, and that terrified him. Everything had been going well so far, hadn't it?

And then a cry rang out.

A baby’s cry: shrill, a little indignant.

All three men let out their collective breaths in a sigh of pure relief.

The whole room was silent for a moment, as they processed the fact that their sister and her baby were alright.

“Oh, thank god,” Lorenzo said feebly. “I thought something awful had happened.”

“No kidding,” Arthur agreed. He sagged back against the wall behind him, his skin regaining a proper colour again, instead of the sickly green it had been moments before.

Charles leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes for a brief second. It was over. Everything had gone alright. 

Colette and her baby were both going to be okay.

"We are uncles now," Arthur said suddenly.

A beat of surprise. And then:

“Oh god, we are, aren’t we?” Lorenzo said.

“We’re uncles,” Arthur repeated a slightly shell-shocked look on his face.

Charles couldn’t help it. A smile broke out over his face, a very real, utterly ridiculous one that he didn’t have the energy to hold back. “We are, aren’t we?” he repeated Enzo’s words.

“This is absolutely insane!” Arthur said, a grin creeping over his face. “We’re going to be the coolest uncles ever.”

“I thought kids are overrated?” Lorenzo pointed out wryly.

“The most overrated,” Arthur insisted. “But I’m going to spoil our niece or nephew absolutely rotten.”

It took a little while longer, but finally, the door opened, revealing Max. He looked…exhausted. Absolutely beat. There were dark circles under his eyes…but a look of relief was on his face like Charles had never seen on his friend before. And yet, Max was grinning.

Looking happier than ever.

“Max,” Charles said, a little hoarsely. He wanted to ask how they were, he wanted to ask about the baby, he wanted to ask if Coco was alright. But all he could get out was Max’s name, his voice too thick.

"Come meet your niece," Max said simply.

He said the word ‘niece’ like it was the best thing in the world, and it made Charles smile. He straightened up, following Max into the room, Arthur and Lorenzo trailing behind him.

Coco was curled up in her bed, her hair messy, her face pale, but she was smiling, a weak little smile tinged with exhaustion but so very, very happy. And cradled against her chest was the baby, wrapped snugly in a little pink blanket.

Charles just sort of stopped dead in the midst of the room. Seeing his sister with her baby in her arms… it was like his brain had stopped functioning in the space of a moment.

All three brothers were silent for a long moment, just taking in the sight of them.

Charles felt a lump rise in his throat,and swallowed heavily.

Lorenzo was biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. And Arthur was absolutely silent, all of the usual sass gone from his expression.

It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, as they all just stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, just looking.

Finally, Coco looked up at them, and her smile widened faintly. “Well?” she asked. "Cha, don’t you want to hold your niece?"

His heart skipped, and he managed to pull himself forward so he could sit down on the bed next to her. “I get to hold her?” he asked, just to be certain.

"Of course, you do," Coco told him softly. "Here you go."

Charles could hardly believe it as Colette gently eased the baby into his arms, carefully supporting her head. And suddenly he was holding her, his niece, this brand new little life, in all of her tiny, delicate, vulnerable little glory, bundled up in a soft pink blanket.

"She's perfect," he said softly, swallowing. 

She was so…fragile, in his hands. He hadn’t expected her to be that small, somehow. Charles smiled faintly, running his fingers gently over her hair. Her eyes were closed, and one tiny fist was poking out of the blanket.  

"Does she have a name yet?" he asked his sister. 

"I get to pick," Colette told him with a grin. "Given that Max named the cats after Monaco's nightlife."

Charles had to admit that was a fair point.

“What, you aren’t going to let Max name your daughter La Rascasse?” he teased Coco who just rolled her eyes.  "What have you come up with?" he asked curiously, tearing his eyes away from his niece to look at his sister.

"If she was a boy, I would have named him Emilian Hervé after Papa," Colette said softly. "Sadly that doesn't work for a girl."

Charles smiled faintly at the mention of their father. Their father would have doted on this baby, he was certain. He would have spoiled her absolutely rotten.

"So I figured… somebody else needed to give their name for her," Coco continued. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course, I don't mind," Charles assured her at once. Why should he? "Whose name did you use?" he wondered. 

"Yours, you idiot, Cha," Coco told him, her voice soft. "Charlene Victoria Verstappen. We'll call her Charlie for short."

"Oh my god," Max's sister breathed somewhere behind him. "You.."

But Charles could only stare at his sister…could only feel the lump rise in his throat again. He swallowed hard. “You named her after me?” he asked with a waver in his voice, feeling like his heart might just explode in his chest.

"Of course, I did," Colette said softly. "You're my twin brother, why wouldn't I name my baby girl after you?"

Charles couldn't find any words to answer that with. He couldn't find any words at all. His eyes stung, and he couldn't look at her for fear he might cry. He looked down at the baby. His…god, his niece that was named after him.  

He gently ran his fingers over her hair again, marvelling at her tiny, perfect little body. "Hello, Charlie," he said softly, his voice a little choked.

The baby didn't even stir, and Charles smiled, shifting slightly to support her more securely. He couldn't believe that his sister had done this, that she had named her baby girl after him. It made his heart feel like it was fit to burst straight out of his chest, made him try to blink back tears and fail horribly. 

"Congratulations, you've made Charles cry," Lorenzo said from somewhere behind him, sounding a little choked himself.

Charles let out a noise that was half-laughing, half-crying as his brothers joined him at his side. "Shut up," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Not a chance," Arthur said as he squeezed in next to him to get a better look at the baby. Lorenzo joined him, peering down at the baby in Charles' arms with a strangely soft expression on his face.

"You gave her my name too," Victoria said weakly. Charles looked up at Max’s sister, not knowing what to say. It had sounded so obvious, so natural to hear Colette say it, that Charles had completely forgotten that Victoria shared the same name.

But she did. 

"A sibling for each of us," Colette said simply. "Sorry, Enzo, Arthur. Maybe next time.”

“Nah, Arthurelle is a horrible name,” Arthur responded. “Totally see why you went for Charlene.” 

Colette laughed, but it was a very weak, exhausted laugh. Charles couldn’t blame her. She must be absolutely wrung out.

And still as he looked at her...as her eyes met his, he could feel how happy his sister. How utterly in love she was with her daughter. How this was everything Colette had ever wanted, and it was right there. 

"I am never driving you to the hospital again though, just so you know," Arthur said. “That cost me at least 30 years of my life.”

"But you did so well," Colette teased their younger brother. "Thank you for that, ma petite puce."

Arthur grimaced faintly, but he looked too tired and happy to actually bite back. Charles smiled faintly at all of them in turn.

Charles‘ eyes snagged on their mother.

"Well, Grand-Mère," he teased her. "How does it feel?"

For a long moment, their mother simply looked at the baby in Charles’ arms with an unreadable expression on her face. And then her expression slowly shifted into a smile. A true smile. A happy, proud Grandma smile.

“Your father would be so proud of you all.” 

[frenchkanna1808]

Why chapter 3 was a enormous let down and the possible negative impact it might have on the rest of the game

I remember after finishing chapter three one how exicted I was, how deeply impressed I was with the banquet and the qtaro development. And I mean I wasn't the only one, again and again I had seen so much praise about chapter three and how awesome it was. How great midori was as a villain (my like idk how many words analysis about him is very much explicit of that), How amazing qtaro development was, and mainly how great the banquet was, and I had seen the claim around that 3-1 was as great or even better than 2-2. And so I had decided after the hype fell down a little to play yttd again with friends, and that when I realized, god , wait, chapter three is like, extremely mid. I played the entire chapter 1a and it only got to the heights of 1b. I at first couldn’t tell what was wrong with the game, why did it feel so disappointing? And after a while I have finally looked back at the chapter, and yes this chapter is not only extremely lackluster but also a very bad prediction for the future of yttd if 3-2 is written the same. So here in this long french analysis I will discuss the main problem of chapter three the absolute shit characterization of almost all the characters. But also the destruction of emotion route and the crazy pacing

Hi like always, I’m frenchgremlim, I’m the french kanna fan I write stupid essays on yttd from time to time, this one will be compared to some of my others quite negative. But I will try as hard as possible to be an objective critic. This isnt meant to attack any fan of any character no any fan of yttd 3-2, I just want to discuss a possible problem in yttd writing that personally scares me for the future, this topic was one I brought up a lot in many post, if you have seen any of them then well you will already know some of my grievances with chapter 3. So with all my love thank you for reading this, lets start!

THE GOOD STUFF

Chapter Three 1 definitely has many great points. First off, the plot progression is pretty great, we get ton of infos on asunaro, on ways to escape and clues about the hades incident. Midori was a blast and bullying him became my favorite pastime. The dummies were an amazing concept (remember the word concept it will be important for the rest). Despite me disliking ranmaru deepy his development was interresting. THE QTARO DEVELOPMENT WAS CRAZY GOOD, for the first time I got to be justified for being a qtaro fan since chapter 2. Keiji had ton of development in this chapter??? that is very rare considering how much of a stable character he is troughout the game, his relationship with sara is really highlighted and I think thats great. Gin stays the most consistent character in yttd and despite normally being something I dislike in a game I think it makes sense considering gin is pretty much sara anchor in reality in both routes. The obstructors were an amazing idea and I think, adding new mechanics like that truly freshen up the game. Also shin ai is litteraly one of the best idea ever and maple too. And of course the banquet was a thrilling nerve wrecking experience with so many twist and turns that truly got your blood pumping……. Thats my praise for chapter three, the thing that doesn’t make it outright bad but correct. See how I mentioned a few characters by name, but not all, you can pretty much count any of the other either barely present or useless to the narrative. Which will lead me to my first point, the absolute character waste that genuinely every single yttd character going from the least worst to the worst (if you know me you know who will be last).

AN ENSEMBLE CAST IS AN ENSEMBLE NOT SARA AND HER MINIONS NANKIDAI

MAI AND KURUMADA

okay so I will start with them because funny enough new characters have better characterization, than actual character we knew since chapter 1. If I had a word to describe both ami and kurumada it would be good but lacking. Let’s start with mai, I think mai concept of her starting has a sort of traitor and then becoming a true ally is very good, same for kurumada startinga s a heartless asshole only caring about himself to him literally on the ground crying that keiji doesn’t cause the doom of the other dummies. Overall Mai and Kurumada have the strongest character out of all the dumies and are truly multi layered characters. Mai is depicted as a fake idol like girl who hides herself behing the pop like smilling persona (inverse of shin) to hide the fact that she is terrified but can also be a cunning manipulative person too. She truly wants the best for others but is terrified that she might die and would do anything to survive. Kurumada is a brute, he acts like a bully toward the others, act heartless and values himself over others, he has a sort of superiority complex and rejects affection. But trough the power of the bucket, kurumada starts to warm up, and he starts truly caring about the others. He starts devaluing his life after getting destroyed by maple. But in the end he was the only one of the surviving dummies wishing not to be brought back but avenged. Both have interesting dynamic with their pairs and overall importance on the narrative, something that can’t be said about all dummies. Why lacking then. I think kurumada and mai still suffer from what I will call the dummies problem, they feel like there is so much like missed potential its crazy. Seriously we had like one scene where kurumada learns to warm up to kanna, thats it, it feels like we had the basics but it was very rushed. Which is a shame considering THIS IS THE THING THAT MAKES KURUMADA CHANGE AS A PERSON. Mai has less of this problem I think, but still she has no relationship with like anyone in the group except qtaro ( I still think in logic route we should have had the obvious parralele between her actions and like keiji/shin actions it feels like wasted potential) But again this is a flaw that is ommitable since reminder the characters are well written despite being rushed. What isnt forgivable is that kurumada has no relationship at all with shin in logic route, its clear that nankidai envisioned emotion route kurumada before logic route kurumada. Overall I think the pairing system was terribly done for some characters, which is apart of the overrall dummies syndrome.

But lets take a look at the other dummies where my praise will quickly end.

ANZU AND HAYASAKA:

I am deeply sorry for anyone who is a fan of those characters, but I need to be objective, anzu and hayasaka are the most nonexistent characters in yttd. I complain about the lack of kanna content, but the absolute uselessness of those two is crazy disappointing. Remember how I described mai and kurumada, full rich descriptions, what is anzu character. She is a dumb clown girl, thats it there is nothing more. And the problem isnt that she is a simple character on paper, because for example mishima is quite a simple character, its how nankidai decided to utilize them. Lets start with anzu because I think she shows off well the problem, what does anzu do during the narrative, when is she useful, not even like talking about like puzzles or stuff like that kanna also doesn’t help that much, I mean overrall, what is the goal of this character. A character can be a bit flater personaility wise but he has to HAVE A REASON TO EXIST EXCEPT FILLING IN THE BLANKS.

Why was she paired with the yabusames, because reminder all the dummies were paired with a human for a reason, sara with ranmaru because of joe, keiji and hinako because they are edgy emo dyed hair dodgy person, kurumada with greenbling because he has one of the highest percentages while they have some of the lowest, hayasaka because he is similar to mishima with gin. Anzu was paired up with the yabusame, because she had to be paired up with someone, she has NO relationship with them, isnt a contrast isnt anything. My problem with anzu is that she is a a boring character because they did NOTHING WITH HER, she feels like an C rated anime girl in the fucking cast of death note. And no I’m not saying a nice person is boring not at all kanna is my favourite character of fiction, what I’m saying Is that creating just a nice girl is a problem. If we go to hayasaka its the same, which is even worse because hayasaka IS TIED TO THE NARRATIVE. I would say haysaka is more plot interresting but his personality is so boring that it doesn’t help at all. He is just clone non chad mishima. They can die and it will genuinely almost affect nothing at all(which is also a problem the death problem). You get surprised when they actually talk because you had forgotten they existed. Thats how I will define the dummies problem, it feels like the characters were added but had very limited impact in the end, because while it makes sense for asunaro it doesn’t make sense for the cast, why add characters if they have no meaning, thats just bad writing.And why does that piss me off, because you could have done so much more. Remember the mishima comparaison? Mishima is the most good guy ever made but how does he shine, by his interractions, he is a light of joy and good and shines from how kind he is towards others. He’s a bit silly but his unwaring kindness and undertsanding is what makes him a compelling character. Especially I contrast with brooding characters in the cast. ANZU COULD HAVE BEEN THAT. I think especially in logic route, anzu isnt the brightest light bulb, but she can shine in her unwaring compassion, her passion is making others laugh as a clown. While she isnt the best and can sound awkard she tries her best for others, because thats whats right to do, despite how much she is scared. After keiji gets coffined, anzu goes to see keiji in the coffin and tries to cheer him up with the worst joke ever and it makes him truly laughs from how bad it is. Reko see nao painting and gets depressed about it,feeling like she was able to save nobody whether her brother or lover, anzu decides to show her some epic clown skills and absolutely fails, reko laughs finding the kiddo endearing. After alice discovers that midori had hanged out with reko, he wants to destroy him and get filled with rage but anzu tells him to do the breathing exercises she used to do before any performance. Anzu could be used as this idea of childlike kindness a little light in the dark of the group especially in logic route. She can still be a fail girl clown make her bicker with kurumada more, make her be so impressed by how calm mai is, make her despize ranmaru in logic route, make her a dumb kid with tehir cool aunt/uncle with the yabusames. MAKE HER EXIST. SAME FOR HAYASAKA, hayasaka is supposed to be a straight man type character make him even more of a loser, make him silently judge the crazy ass people he is with, do his development litteraly not Five minutes before his death. A character being simple isnt a problem, what is a problem is not using them to their fullest, and for me in the state that they are in currently anzu and hayasaka are bad characters in term of the narrative.

SHIN

Okay so shin isnt a character in chapter three, he’s just there, I’m putting that low because he is a main character. The problem with shin being a bot, is that we just left one of the craziest chapters for him to do nothing, I understand him being stunned by midori and stuff. But I still think this is quite a letdown, especially for the obvious parralels between him and maple almost never being utilized. You can tell nankidai didn’t have the time or want to do much with the guy, which is bonkers considering THIS IS THE CHAPTER WE MEET HIS ABUSER. Then why isnt shin lower? Because shin is the type of character to have development throughout the story, who has a continuous storyline etc, which means that even though he didn’t get anything special this chapter next chapter he will get it. Its not a case of actual waste of character ,its more so, putting the character in the drawer for now. I am not scared for shin writing because he will always get something and always had something. Which makes is non importance in chapter 3-1 not that bad

KANNA

OKAY SO I WILL TRY TO NOT BE BIASED. Kanna characterization disappointing me In 3-1. As the biggest kanna fan, I think nankidai doesn’t care that much about her character as an actual protagonist. This one will be a bit longer but to explain why it was bad I need to do some sidenotes.

Sara is the protagonist of yttd, and keiji and gin are deutarogonist (idk how its written forgive me I’m french, please tell me if its badly written). Sara throughout the story goes trough many changes and developments, while characters like gin and keiji stay pretty much the same the whole story before 3-1. Sara main development is her living with the grief of losing joe and her importance in the group. While keiji is this morally grey, in the end bad person because of his actions guy, that still deeply cares and wants the best for sara, but what he does for her like putting so much responsibility isnt good for her in the end, it creates this codependent dynamic where keiji wishes to protect sara but in the teaches her how to be like him despite him wishing the inverse. Is keiji a good influence? A bad one ? I would say a bad one, but does he care for her? He sures do, and would do anything to protect her. Why am I going a tangent you might say, because shin and kanna are the mirror to keiji and sara. They are in the end the same. Kanna is a direct parralel to sara story wise, which is why I think if the story was twisted the point of view would be either shin or kanna. Kanna is the emotional core of the game, the soul I would say even, her development has a character is the deepest and most complex. Going trough hell, wishing to die to then deciding to live not herself yet but for the people that loved her, Kanna went trough some of the worst events out of the cast, litteraly everyone she even remotely liked or was friends with dies. And yet she decided to stand, for them, for their wishes, that makes kanna the most emotionally strong character in all of yttd. Because compared to sara she had almost no help and was left to her suicidal tendencies. Kanna represents hope and bravery in its purest sense. Thats why kanna is the soul of yttd, she litteraly made shin realised that he could care about others again. But despite all of that kanna was always in the shadow of someone, lacking self worth and self confidence feeling the need to be protected by others, hiding behind shin schemes despite how dodgy they were. Shin was her shield, and now he is gone, and kanna has never been more alone than now. Two people died for her, she hates herself and wishes to go seem them deeply, but she has to stand up for them. And what do we get for chapter three!!!! One scene. Thats fucking it. Okay maybe a little bit more but like god its bad. Kanna is implied in one scene that she doesn’t understand why shin would sacrifice himself for her, which implies that she doesn’t understand that people could love her, which could imply that in general she doesn’t get why either kugie or shin did this for her. COOL ONE IMPLICATION. And like if you read the scene where she says that she will like be epic for them, its implied that kanna doesn’t feel better and is still very much suicidal she still hates herself, kanna doesn’t think she can live, but she has to survive for them. Kanna is implied to be in survival mode more than having hope to be outside. OKAY COOL.

Now I have a question, why does for kanna we have to acively search for her to have any actual development and like relevance, while for other character its more laid out. Why does sara get a scene where we see her change mentality after seeing the joe ai, while kanna GETS OFF SCREEN DEVELOPMENT. IF THERE IS ANYTHING I HATE ITS OFF SCREEN DEVELOPMENT. WE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO GUESS A REASON A CHARACTER CHANGED. Plus kanna is a victim of this almost all the time, which is why people call her flat or not as interesting as shin (I heavily disagree I could write so many pages about her). Kanna is a character which is made in subtlety, which isnt a problem, what is a problem is that she is perhaps the only one. Kanna like I said is a very important character for both routes and yet she is barely treaten has a main protagonist, she is a sidekick, and thats a problem. Because of that her individuality and complexities are not explored. For example I think kanna has many many actual flaws that are barely treated in the narrative, she is far from a perfect kind person, but never tackled on. Kanna is a character that not only never gets a W but also get no breathing room. THIS IS THE FIRST CHAPTER KANNA IS MORE PROACTIVE AND YET WE DONT SEE HOW HER. Yes there is some things that show that, but again its not protagonist level of development, it feels like non important side character development for a character that shouldn’t be that. Kanna SHOULD be a protagonist of yttd, and should get finally her chance to shine instead of always being in someone shadow. I not making pessimistic claims right now since the last chapter isnt out, but I’m very much not hopeful about how nankidai will handle her #challengewriteafemalecharacterwiththesamerespecthasamaleone.

ALICE AND REKO

I Have already written many post about this, but post chapter 2-1, Nankidai had no idea what to do with yabusames, they havent had any actual interresting impact except from lore in any chapter. They become background character especially after nao death. Despite being actual game changing choice, alice and reko are useless to the narrative. WHY? Because nankidai had decided to get them killed by sheep boy, and since nankidai clearly wrote emotion route before logic route, in emotion route he had no idea what to do with them so the became npc’s. Alice relaionship with cast has not evolved from chapter 1, and reko became just one of sara goons. I think this ties into another problem, the emotion route problem, what should make emotion route compelling the character which is supposed to represent it, kanna and the emotion route based choices, but since kanna and the other yabusame gets zero content, emotion route seems like the least interesting route. Because nankidai was more lazy doing it which is a clear problem. That affects the yabusame heavily, sicne he had no plans with them past death. Thats why they are static. Its also linked to another problem which I will mention later. But yes nankidai simply doesn’t know what to do with them, which is especially worst for alice a character that is LINKED TO THE ENTIRE CHAPTER. I think its not only a waste of alice and reko, but also a sign of favoritism. I think nankidai simply cares less about complex ideas for emotion route, I will perhaps write in another post all he could have written interesting for emotion route. Now lets get into THE REAL STINKER OF THE CHAPTER.

NAO EGOKORO: HOW TO MESS UP THE MESSAGE OF CHARACTER

What. The. Actual.shit. I have no words except from that. This out of every charcater bothers me probably the most and actively pisses me off. Imagine writing a character, a female character who was shown as capable and strong despite being an emotional person, imagine creating a character which showed the defiance of asunaro, the fact that yes despite their overwhelming sense of control and power, that there was in fact a way to beat them at their games, imagine writing a character that fought against adversity and had the only canonical route where despite all their wishes that character won, imagine creating a character with a doomed fate which is in direct parallel to another character and shows why he somewhat has the right to be scarred, imagine writing a tragic story about a girl who was only brought here to suffer and be a tool for the progression of A MAN in the canonical narrative, imagine writing a character who entire existence was a tool for asunaro and died because of them, imagine writing that the floormasters consider her useless and non important because she isnt some holy participants, imagine writing that. Okay so imagine that after this poignant ending you decide to do another chapter where you mention her 1 time in a non essential dialogue. THIS IS INSULTING. Because what this honestly says is that, yes nao life truly was unimportant, we get references to greenbling death in the chapter, NAO DIED LIKE THREE HOURS AGO. THIS MESSES UP THE ENTIRE MESSAGE.

This feels like nao was some kind of rug, that when not needed could be trhown out, was her death just shock value, was that the goal of her character. I wanna remind that yes nao was only brought to boost mishima percentages, which mean she was only a tool for another man progression. THERE IS SO MUCH META POSSIBLE COMMENTARY ON THIS. Asunaro who uses children and women as toys for their own goals, that they will throw out when not needed. But instead the fact that nao was completely forgotten just deepens this idea that yes in fact they were right, she was unimportant, and thst deeply isulting I think. Why does every chapter mishima comes back while we get no mention of nao. Why is there a clear focus in this game about more stereo typically strong stoic figures, isn't this entire game about the conflict between emotion and logic. Why does characters like kanna and nao representations of the conflict get zero content. Characters like kanna and nao MATTER, they are perhaps some of the only representation of empowerment that people like me can relate. Because I will be truthful, logic route is in fact not the good choice, not in narrative standpoint (logic route is awesome for the narrative for sure), in a moral standpoint, its an extremely good idea of course. But the message of the game is that in the end its wrong, it’s a wrong choice to act or pretend to be an emotionless logic based robot, keiji is in the wrong, shin is in the wrong, midori is in the wrong. Whats the point of a moral dilemma if you don’t talk about it from one side. THEN WHY DOES THE CHARACTERS THAT REPRESENT THE INVERSE GET ZERO CONTENT. I think nao disappearance is not only one of the most disappointing things in all of yttd but genuinely gets me scared for the future of yttd themes.

Now that we finished every character, you may wonder, why, why is this chapter characterization so bad? What even happened? Ill tell you what happened, there is two reason everything went to shit and let me list it here:

THE SARA PROBLEM OR WHY THIS CHAPTER PLOT FOCUS IS ASS .

YTTD chapter three was way more plot focused than any of the chapters I would say, and honestly thats great for the narrative, if only it was done well. Remember my speeches about the characters about how like 60% of the cast is useless to the narrative, characters we know since a while, why do characters have no development, why does the dummies gets jack shit to do etc. Thats because of one thing, this chapter prioritized PLOT over CHARACTERS. And how can I claim this, because most scenes are sara and her doing everything. This chapter wasn't really about her, at all even, yet we have focused more on her reactions to the events that literally any characters. Chapter three at least half of it shouldn't have been sara focused. You might say what are you on about french? I’m gonna explain. I wanna state some example to show my point clearer, the reveal of why non candidates were brought here, why, in the flipping heck is sara the charcter in particular they choose to only know that, to have the big emotional scene, why especially in logic route, why?????? Yes she knew nao, sure thing, yeah she knew kai, but she wasn't the only person that knew them, sara didn’t even like mention nao almost the whole chapter, you want me to buy some emotional ass scene, for a charcter you barely even cared about showing in the narrative. I could think of a million characters who knwing this would flip out and have ACTUAL CHARACTER MOMENTS (kanna, reko, shin when he would learn that they brought kugie only to die which in the end CAUSED KANNA TO BECOME SUICIDAL AND DECIDE TO KILL HERSELF, GIN).

Another example the final scene where sara presses the button to get rid of midori that scene feels so empty, it doesn’t feel like a revenge or anything, midori has no emotional connection or link to sara, it doesn’t feel deserved, why out of everyone of the cast, why is midori getting killed by the person who he hurted the least. It feels like yeah sara the protag so she has to do it, it doesn’t feel cathartic because the characters that deserved the most to get this final bow didn’t get to get it. IM PRETTY SURE ANYONE IN THE ROOM COULD HAVE PRESSED THE BUTTON AND IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE EMOTIONALLY DRIVEN. I wanna discuss emotion route sara in particular, sara isnt as interresting as before in emotion route, since now she is healing and is closing her arc, which means that compared to logic route you don’t really have this want to see her arc which make scenes that should have been about other characters feel even more flat. I am not saying we should stop having sara as a protag no no of course, my problem is that we have seen that sara can work as the protag while focusing on other characters drama.

Example chapter 2-1, in 2-1 the focus is on reko and alice, and yet sara still has conflicts for herself, but they don’t seem to overpower the narrative. This intense sara focus destroyed the other characters screen time, and caused a lot of scenes that should hav been more impact to be less impact. Sara story in emotion route should have been the keiji stuff an ranmaru stuff mainly(and the whole logic route sara becoming crazy stuff too), the whole conflict with midori just felt like it was created only for the narrative. NOW I CAN FINNALY COME TO MY POINT. The sara focus was because yttd decided to focus more on the plot progression that character driven story, thats why sara does everything, thats why the characters have overall less to do. And imma be honest I did not come for yttd for the plot, people love yttd because of THE CHARACTERS, why do people play logic route, because they want to see shin evolve and sara too, why do people save kanna to fullfill shin wishes and save a kid they care for, what most people play yttd for is not the plot. YTTD IS A CHARACTERS DRIVEN STORY, characters not character. I genuinely don’t give a flying fuck about the plot if the characters are non existant, a bad plot can be carried by good characters, but a good plot will never carry bad characters. I know we are getting closer to the end, but yttd always had that balance between action and character moments. But I don’t think its only the direction of the story that is faulty. ITS the:

PACING

YTTD CHAPTER THREE PACING, wow we met this new guy midori, WTF REKO DEAD, anyway who cares lets move on. Thats it thats the pacing. THE CHAPTER IS WA TOO FAST. We go trough plot points so quiclky, we randmoly see reko/alice die then nothing, they don’t exist anymore, characters the cast know since the beginning, again for the dummies its logical, in a way, they don’t really know them, plus they are robots. RANDOM AHH REVEAL KANNA AND SHIN ARE ACTUAL SIBLINGS THEN NOTHING, NO MENTION, NO ACTUAL IMPORTANCE TO THE ROUTE, this only felt like this was added in for plot for logic route so that we know in advance that shin and kanna are siblings. The dummies just die at the end of the chapter in five minutes, qtaro dies in five minutes then the chapter ends. How do you want us to feel emotional weight for a character dying if you give us no time, joe death is one of the most viceral death because its slow and painful to watch, while if he died in chpater three he would have just exploed for shock value. Shock value thats how reko and alice death felt like, just that. Sara figuring out the whole participant thing, shock value thats it. The pacing is just horrible in this chapter so much so that I had actually forgotten kanna and shin were revealed to be siblings at the end of my first playtrough

CONCLUSION

I don’t think chapter three was bad per say, half of it was amazing truly, but the other half was incredibly disappointing, the whack characterization, the horrible plot focus and the pacing are terrible. Emotion route suffered the most because of this and I think on an objective standpoint is the worst written route (i’m the biggest emotion route glazer but like I can’t lie on how bad nankidai fumbled). I still love yttd and am full of hope that chapter three two will be the most amazing thing ever made, but I am scared of dissapointement now, I hope nankidai comes back to his roots wirting like chapter 2. If you like loved chapter 3-1 then honestly I wish I was you, I don’t like being dissapointed, I don’t like being let down, I am not critiquing from a place of hatred but from a very passionate fan, I know my opinion is pehaps not one of the most shared but as a fan of yttd for so many years I think we need to open our eyes to flaws. Perhap chapter 3-2 will fix everything I say and I hope so, I hope this post becomes outdated, but if it doesn’t then it would in my eyes truly ruin yttd. It won’t change chapter 2-2 changed my life and that kanna kizuchi saved me from a lot of dark times.I love yttd and i belive in nankidai and that why as a fan we shoudl critic his work

[your-unfriendlyghost]

sodapop patrick curtis thoughts on my desk by the end of the week or ur DONE /j

How I feel about this character

  Uh like he’s perfect and should be my wife i think

  Nah but fr Soda’s one of my favorite characters ever. He’s sweet and all, but he’s so much more than that. Pony says he’s movie-star handsome, that he can go from gentle one minute to “blazing with anger” the next, that he gets drunk just on living, and understands everybody. Soda’s a Kerouac-style “mad one”- “mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes Awww!”

He’s a guy who’s sensitive but strong, a “bawl baby” who’s tough, he’s probably got ADHD and dyslexia, the school system failed him. His folks died and left him holding his brothers together by a thread. He’s pretty but not pretty enough for Sandy to stay. He might end up dying in Vietnam, and thank God that isn’t canon, but it’s still there. He’s happy to live life simply, behind a white picket fence with a wife and kids- hell, he’s thrilled to. But that’s not gonna happen, at least not for a while, because Soda is a tragedy. But he loves his brothers and his friends so much that he becomes a beacon of hope despite it all.

  I love Soda. Honestly, this barely scratches the surface of how I feel about him. I haven’t even touched on the adrenaline junkie stuff or the ways he’s sometimes so relatable to me that it hurts. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Steve, and sometimes Evie. 

  I’ve found I’m a friends-to-lovers enjoyer, so Stevepop scratches that part of my brain lol. To have someone who’s got your back through thick and thin, aware of your flaws but in spite of them- well, ain’t that the dream? The angst of it being the 60s makes it interesting to me too, because there’s a lot of ways to handle that. Man, when I first read the book I didn’t get the hype for them at all, but idk. It clicked. I get it now. 

  And then Steviepop is my roman empire lol. It’s all I love about Stevepop, but Evie adds even more complexity. I like her a lot and I love writing her, and I love writing her with characters who I also love. There is absolutely no canon anything to back this ship up. But dammit that’s the point of fandom.

  I will say though that I like exploring Soda’s dynamic with Sandy, but I don’t really ship them. I think the fact that Sandy left him (and I mean cheated on him, even if that can be read ambiguously) implies that there’s something about him that could be undesirable, romantically. I don’t mean cheating is good or that people deserve it, just that in this case, the idea that Soda’s an imperfect boyfriend adds layers to a character who is mostly just positives. We’ll never know Sandy’s POV on it, and I don’t think Soda will either. Sandypop to me will never have closure. That’s what makes it hurt so much. That’s what makes it relatable

My non-romantic OTP for this character

  I mean honestly? Steve. I know this isn’t really fair, since I like Stevepop and all, but idk, there’s no one else who I think it could be. 

  Steve’s a character who’s cocky and troubled and prone to assholeish-ness, but even he loves Soda. He knows about Sandy and gets angry on Soda’s behalf at Pony for mentioning her, which means Soda can tell him- angry, tough Steve Randle- about sensitive stuff. And Soda, who I think is a little in love with everyone he meets and could have anyone he wants, sees this bastard and sticks with him. He sees the parts of Steve that Pony can’t. Parts that make him worthy of being his best buddy.

It’s been said before, but no matter how you look at it, romantic or platonic, they’re each other’s person. I don’t think I could put anyone else in this slot.

My unpopular opinion about this character

 I have a few lol.

1- I see a lotta fics and takes where the whole “drunk on living” thing is a lie Soda feeds Ponyboy, and while I like that take, I do also think it’s totally possible and even plausible that Soda really doesn’t drink and Pony’s view of him (in that aspect) is right.

  I dunno, I mean, I know firsthand what it’s like to just get drunk on adrenaline/excitement. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug, and the rush from it is better than any other high I’ve had. Thrill rides make me act as stupid as someone drinking- when I’m excited, I lose all ability to filter thoughts or fight impulses. I’ve done all sorts of dumb moves- climbing onto tables, singing loudly without knowing or caring if it bothers people, play-fighting my buddies so hard we both get genuinely injured, standing up in a convertible going down the freeway... (This is obviously anecdotal and not real evidence or anything, but like, duh. This is an opinion piece lol.)

  I guess what I’m saying is that there’s a lot of interesting things that can still be done with a Soda who genuinely doesn’t drink. (Or at least not much.)

2- I love darker takes on Soda. I love when people dig into his addictive personality, his temper, his relationship with his looks/self image, all that stuff. I love his flaws, and I especially love when they co-exist with his earnest sweetness and genuine sensitivity. In a few of my fics, I’ve explored some slightly darker Sodas- Sodas who are impulsive, pent up, semi-narcissistic and occasionally manipulative. I haven’t delved deep into it or anything, and I usually keep his character wholesome, but I love it when other folks don’t. 

3- I actually really like the Vietnam War storyline. I mean it hurts, but it seems plausible. I hate the idea of him dying there, but I like exploring the idea of him being drafted. Hell, maybe he even enlisted. The military is known for being a good way to earn enough money to pull one’s family out of poverty, and this paired with the flawed ideas of masculinity and strength of the time lead to a really interesting version of Soda’s future.

  I’m real glad it isn’t canon though.

4- This isn’t technically unpopular but brown eyed Soda will always be canon to me. I like Rob Lowe’s Soda a lot but man….he coulda used brown contacts, yk? /hj lol

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Well I still think it’s a crime his emotional monologue got cut outta the original version of the film. Thank God for the full novel version, but man, still.

Woulda also have been cool to see him mentioned in That Was Then This is Now, but I get that SE Hinton wasn’t trying to make an Outsiders sequel really.

Idk, Soda served his purpose, I think. 

tl;dr- I love him

[dakotac0le]

holding your hand so gently. listen to me. this character could be so so much if u just think abt her for two seconds and then have fun with it.

All the canon text we are given about Katori Blake's personality is that she was a leader and athletic and a lot like Dakota . WHICH IS VERY INTERESTING TO ME because looking at her parents there so obviously not !! that !! they have an all white living room and her mom looks like kat but wears a high bun and pearls . theyre like the type of people to buy out a modern art gallery beacuse they can and it makes them look rich and fancy w out giving a fuck about the art.  and we don't know much about how they were as parents and obviously they care a lot about katori . but they also didn't care enough or were  too busy or out of the house enough that she could sneak out and go run around on rooftops .  To me , I see her as someone who felt very ignored by her parents. and she didn't have friends with anyone at her school. She was very very quiet growing up , very polite , but not exactly friendly. She didn't know how to keep a conversation going or connect with people easily - she was never taught how to do those things by her parents who don't really know  either. and she's also struggling because her body doesn't feel like her body in a way no one around her is able to explain so she just kinda. shoves that down. so she felt very alone and weird and ignored by the people at her school and her parents.  and this continued to a point where she started to sneak out and not do her homework  - at first to get any attention she could from her parents. and when that failed. when they just got quietly and tiredly angry at her (not shouting or screaming  - just grounding her and locking her in her room and giving her the silent treatment or stonewalling her) -  just to get out of the house.  

and then she met dakota damascus- this other neglected kid who's just a bit younger than her and a lot smaller than her. this kid who also needed to be anywhere else but his apartment.  

all she needed was someone to acknowledge her existence.  and all he needed was someone to talk to . and he's so incredibly kind to her. He's very loud and energetic in a way no one should be at 3am. like he has years of pent up conversations he's been waiting to have with literally anyone. and he is always hungry and thirsty and cold and he breathes a little ragged. so she brings him all the food she can steal from her pantries - or she takes her moms cash and they go get food together. and very slowly she starts to return that energy back to him . it's sort of contagious and impossible not to bounce off of and be endeared too. her grades start getting even worse and she has permanent eyebags and is always exhausted and  always feels a little bit like she's slipping. but she also has a friend !! and she knows who she is for the first time in a really long time.  

and dakota is always going on about  how cool and awesome the fucking heros were so she showed him how to climb from roof to roof and how to balance and how to jump and brace yourself if you fall.  and for her heros were never important or really impacted her life - she doesn't care about them and has never had any reason too. but she likes how passionately Dakota cares about being there for people. and she likes hearing him talk about all his dreams and goals. But it's also concerning because Dakota does not have innate powers  and he's reckless (like reallly reckless). and  Kat has no idea how to teach him to be a superhero like she knows how to teach him to scale a building. but she cant and wont try to dissuade him either. She gets what he feels this way. It's just hard and complicated because selfishly - she wants to protect him and help him like he helped her come into herself.  and the only way she can think to fix that is if she tries to be a hero too.  

i think about kaotri way more than i should for the amount of screentime she had (0 minutes)

[circus-clownn]

uhhhh, ride the cyclone oc anyone?

This is Beverly, the most stagy girl in town (may change!!! not sure)

shes a crazy gal, she likes being dramatic, but is also blunt (for funsies) and shes super into old fashion stuff!! vampire lady/j