#I made the different versions during a call so I was distracted

[imaginaryf1shots]

Wildflower Pt.1 | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 3.4K

Lewis x ex!reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) You break up with Lewis 3 years ago, but he was the one that let you go.

Warning: Maybe a curse word?

AN: This was supposed to be insipired by Wildflower by Billie Eillish, I'm not the best at writing based on songs, so sorry if it's not that good. Honestly i paint and songs usually get me to paint not write.

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

The low hum of conversation filled the air, the clinking of glasses and faint strain of music, just loud enough for people not to be shouting to be heard. It’s another charity event in Monaco. The venue was stunning, an open garden filled with warm lights, every corner screaming luxury and elegance. It was the kind of event where everyone knew everyone, connections were made over small talk and subtle glances.

Lewis moved through the crowd with ease, his practised smile on as he exchanged pleasantries and shaking hands. He’s used to eyes following him, so when he’s in situations like this he usually thrives.

As much as Lewis tried to enjoy the night, having a few friends present at the charity event, his mind kept wandering, he’s distracted by something. Is it the pressure of Formula 1 and the last few years? The constant travel finally getting to him? Did he not have enough adrenaline rush during the summer break?

Lewis stood with a group of his friends, but his eyes started to wander, skipping through the crowd, a familiar figure caught his eyes. He passed that back and hair before backtracking once more. His eyes narrowed slightly, that tattoo looks awfully familiar. But no, it can’t be. Could it? No, it couldn’t be her.

You were standing near one of the garden’s archways, your back to him, deep in conversation with someone. Even from the back he could tell it’s you, and he knows that tattoo very well. He chose it after all. He was there when you got it, he kissed it.

Lewis’s heart stuttered. It’s you.

The world around him seemed to tilt as he stood frozen, eyes locked on the woman he once called his, the woman that once meant everything to him. His mind raced as he instantly remembered all the memories you shared. The laughs, the way you used to hold his arm, the late nights and lazy mornings. The fights, the tears and the final goodbye. You were always beautiful, but now… you were radiant in a way that felt almost untouchable. Something is different, you’re different. It’s been three, maybe four years since Lewis last saw you, but it feels like decades.

Lewis took in a breath, as a wave of regret hit him hard, right in his chest. He still thinks about you, when he’s winning, when he’s losing, when he’s in the middle of a crowd, when he’s home alone. He’s always thinking about you. The one that got away, the one he let go of. He never tried to imagine where you are now, always assuming you moved on with someone who could treat you better than he ever could. But he never imagined you’d change as much as he could tell you did from just looking at you from far away. You’re way more confident now in your stance, in yourself, more independent and outgoing. It’s still you, but a new version of you.

A wildflower that bloomed in his absence, flourishing in ways he never expected. He knew you that well to know that there’s an ease to you now, a lightness that felt words away from the woman who once stood beside him, in his shadow, struggling to find your place in this world. It was almost painful knowing he wasn’t the one to help you grow into this version of yourself. He wonders who did, who was with you while you grew.

Lewis doesn’t know how long he stood there for, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He blinked a few times before he turned to look at his confused friend.

“You alright? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” He asked, concerned.

“Feels like it.” Lewis said under his breath before he smiled. “I’m alright.”

The sound of your laughter made his eyes snap to your figure once more. Your eyes sparkling under the soft lights, his chest tightened.

You’re happy.

And he was stuck with how much you had changed. This wasn’t the same woman who stood in his apartment years ago, her voice breaking as she told him she couldn’t do it anymore. This wasn’t the woman who looked at him with those pleading eyes, asking for more of him than he was willing to give. No, this was someone else entirely, someone he didn’t know anymore.

A small voice in his mind asked him to move to get closer to you, to say something, anything. But what could he say? How could he possibly approach you now, after all these years, when you had clearly built a life for yourself that no longer included him.

Just then, your eyes flickered in his direction. For a moment your eyes locked, Lewis’s breath caught in his throat. Your smile faltered for a second, as recognition flashed across your face before you blinked, your expression smoothened out to a neutral expression. Before you returned to the conversation you were having.

Lewis found himself drifting to the edge of the garden, away from the crowd. The cool evening air doing little to cool the rising heat in his chest. Leaning against a stone pillar he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him.

Three Years Ago

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the apartment, louder than usual. You had been crying, though you tried to hide it. Lewis stood across the room, his jaw clenched, hands still at his sides, struggling to find the right words. The fight had come out of nowhere, started by something small, a cancelled dinner or was it a missed call? Either way it had quickly spiralled into something bigger, something you both knew had been simmering under the surface for months now.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lewis!” You had shouted, your voice cracking under all the frustration you’ve been feeling. “I can’t keep being the one who’s always waiting, always wondering if you even care! I know how demanding your job is, but even when you’re home you’ve been neglecting me.”

“It’s not that simple.” Lewis rubbed a hand across his face, frustrated. “You know my schedule, you know how much I have going on, I’m doing my best.”

“Your best? Your best isn’t good enough anymore!” You had snapped back, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m here, alone, all the fucking time, while you’re off living your life. I need more than this, Lewis, I need more from you.”

He had opened his mouth to argue, but the words had died on his tongue. Deep down he knew you were right. He’s been consumed by his career, by the constant demands of racing, the media, the endless travels. He’s been giving you what’s left of him, the small scraps he could manage between races, hurried phone calls when he could manage, but never enough, never what you truly deserved. Lewis loves you so much, he doesn’t want to let you go, but he’s not being fair, and it’s clearly obvious. Racing has been his whole life for so long.

The silence that followed had been suffocating. You had whipped the tears away, taking a deep breath trying to steady yourself.

“I love you.” You had whispered, your voice soft, filled with sadness that stabbed at him. “But I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep waiting for you to make me a priority.”

And he just stood there, let you take your bag and leave him. Leave him standing there in the middle to your shared living room, the weight of your words sinking in his chest.

Lewis blinked, pulling himself back to the present. The night air felt thick, suffocating as the memories played out in his mind. He had let you go. He hadn’t fought for you, he hadn’t tried to fix things. In that moment, his pride had gotten the better of him, and he had convinced himself that the relationship was just another casualty of his demanding career. He had thought he would move on, that you would move on, and maybe, one day, you would find your way back to each other.

But now seeing again, standing so close, yet so far, he realised how naïve he had been. You moved on, yes, but without him.

And you’re all the better because of it.

Three Years Ago

The days following your breakup had been a blur, Lewis threw himself into racing, using adrenaline and pressure to distract himself from the growing emptiness that seemed to follow him everywhere. His friends noticed the change, the way he became quieter, more withdrawn, but no one said anything. He had always been good at hiding how much he hurt.

But whenever the noises of the track died down and he found himself alone in his hotel room, the quiet was unbearable. He would stare at his phone, go through old test messages, photos and play videos of you together. He tried to convince himself that you had simply grown apart, that it wasn’t meant to be. And for a while, that had worked.

Until tonight

The noise of the event seemed to surge around Lewis, as he weaved through the crowd, his heart thudding in his chest. Each step toward you heavier, the weight of the past pressing down on him. He faced so much in his career, but this was different, this wasn’t a race, or a podium, or a championship. This is you.

When he finally caught sight of you, he stepped closer. You looked every bit the woman you grew to be, calm, poised, your movements graceful. It was surreal, watching you, it was like he was seeing a stranger who somehow had the keys to his heart. Keys to a door he locked after you and thought would never be open again.

Before he could second guess himself, Lewis stepped closer, his heart pounding. His voice threatened to betray him as he opened his mouth to call you. “y/n.”

You turned at the sound, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Time, Space, everything around you is blurred. It’s just the two of you.

Your expression remained unreadable, but your eyes flickered with something. It was gone as quickly as it appeared. You gave him a small but polite smile, the kind you give an old acquaintance, not someone you had once loved with everything you had.

“Lewis.” You said, your voice calm and steady, as if the years you spent apart hadn’t left a gaping hole between you. “It’s been a while.”

Hearing you say his name, after all these years, in such a neutral tone, felt like a punch to the gut. He had imagined this moment so many times, thought of what he would say, how you might react. But this cool, collected version of you, was nothing like the woman who had once laughed so easily with him, cried in his arms or yelled at him in frustration.

“Yeah, it has.” Lewis managed to reply, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, trying to keep it level. “You look… you look amazing.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was a pause, an awkward silence that stretched between you. Lewis searched for the right words, trying to close the gap, but everything felt wrong, too forced, too far removed from everything you had once been.

“How have you been?” He asked finally, his voice faltering under the weight of the question/ it seemed so simple, but it carried so much. How have you been since he let you walk out of his life? Since he let you go?

You gave a small nod, crossing your arms tightly in front of your chest, almost self-hugging. “It’s been good. Busy, you know? Work, life… all that.”

Your answer was the kind you give to someone you barely knew. He has to admit that it stung, more than he’d ever admit. He expected distance, maybe coldness, but this… this was worse. You were indifferent. You moved on.

Lewis shifted uncomfortably, the words he planned to say dying before they escaped. He had hoped you’d share a moment where maybe a spark would fly. But all he could see in your eyes was a guardedness, a wall built, and he couldn’t blame you for it.

“I’ve thought about you.” Lewis blurted out, the words tumbling out before he could over think it. Your gaze flickered away, just for a second, but you remained calm and collected.

“I’m sure you have.”  You replied, your tone polite but distant. “But like moves on, right? And we both have.”

The words felt like a knife twisting in his chest, he can’t say he hadn’t moved on now. Even if he wanted to argue, say that even after all those years, he had never fully let you, it wouldn’t work. Anything he says will fall on deaf ears.

“Right.” Lewis said quietly, his voice thick with the realisation. “Right, life moves on.”

You nodded, glancing back at the group you were talking to, ready to just leave this conversation behind. Go back to the life where he doesn’t belong, and Lewis realised how much he miscalculated. He came to talk to you, thinking that maybe you could pick up where you left off, but this wasn’t this kind of story.

“I’m happy for you.” Lewis said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You seem… happy.”

You smiled, this time softer, a little genuine. “I am.” And he knew that you like the life you have now, than the one you shared with him. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Lewis. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

And just like that the conversation was over, and he watched you walk away, again. This time with no tears and more confidence and grace than ever before. And here he stop hands by his side, his heart heavy and the possibility of ever being back together leaving with you.

Lewis was in a haze the next few days, the conversation between you at the party playing in a constant loop in his mind. Every moment, every word eating at him. He was so confidant when he approached you, thinking he could win you back, but instead he was faced with the truth. You moved on.

The memory of the soft and distant, detached, smile haunted him.

He doesn’t know how he ended up here, but it didn’t take him long to know where you live in Monaco, so here he stood in front of your apartment building. You rented back the apartment you lived in before you moved in with him. The building filled him with old familiarity, he remembers the first time he came to pick you up.

Lewis practised what he wanted to say all night, thinking about every possible scenario. But now that he’s standing on your doorsteps, his mind went blank. His hands were sweating, a rare sensation for someone who was so used to being in control and thriving under pressure.

But this isn’t a race. This is you.

His heart pounded as the buzzed for your apartment, a wave of anxiety washing over him. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you’re already dating someone else?

“Yes?”

Your voice. Soft, familiar, and yet… different.

“It’s me.” Lewis swallowed hard, his voice quiet. “Lewis.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment he thought you had left him standing there. But then he hears a click, and the door opens for him.

You’re waiting for him in the doorway of your apartment, arms crossed over your chest. You were dressed in comfy clothes, with your hair up and no trace of makeup. Yet you still took his breath away.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice calm, yet curious. You didn’t sound angry, maybe just a little tired. As if you didn’t have the energy for whatever this is.

Lewis ran a hand over his braids, searching for the words he practised, but once more his words just escaped him, he felt exposed in a way he hadn’t in years. Vulnerable.

“I just… needed to see you.” He started, his voice low, almost apologetic. “After the other night… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About everything. About you.” You raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve been thinking about us.” His voice faltered slightly. “About how we ended things, and I know… I know I was wrong. I didn’t fight for you the way I should have. I was so wrapped in racing, in everything else, that I didn’t realise what I was losing.”

Your eyes flickered with something, surprise? Anger? He couldn’t really tell. But you didn’t respond either way. You just stood there, watching him, your expression showing nothing of how you’re feeling.

“I’m sorry.” Lewis continued, the words spilling out of him now, the desperation in his voice clear. “I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. For letting us fall apart. I was selfish, and I thought I could just… move on. But I couldn’t. Not really. I never stopped thinking about you.”

You let out a quiet sigh, your eyes softening, your stance loosening just a little, but your guard was still up. “Lewis… it’s been years. Do you really think you can just show up and apologise, and everything will be okay?”

He flinched at your words, knowing that you were right. He let too much time pass, convinced himself that you would be waiting for him, even though you had every reason and right to move one.

“I know it’s not that simple.” Lewis said, his voice quieter now. “I just… I had to try. I couldn’t leave things like they were. I can’t stop thinking about what we had, and how much I screwed it up. You were the best thing in my life and I let you slip away.”

You were silent for a moment, your gaze drifting away from him, as if you were trying to gather your thoughts.

“You’re right. You did let me slip away.” You said, voice quieter now than before. “And I had to learn to be okay with that, I had to learn how to move on without you. It wasn’t easy Lewis. You didn’t see how hard it was for me to put myself back together after you left.”

Your words cut through him like a knife, the guilt he was feeling was crushing him. He knows you suffered because of him, yet here he is coming to ask for your forgiveness. A forgiveness he had no right asking for.

“I know.” He whispered, his voice barely audible. “I know I hurt you, and I’m so sorry for that.”

You let out a slow breath, uncrossing your arms and finally looking at him again. “I’m not the same person I was back then, Lewis. I’ve grown, changed. I had to. And I don’t know if there’s room for you in my life anymore. You showing up here… it doesn’t erase everything that has happened.”

Lewis nodded, the worst scenario he expected was happening.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He said quietly. “I don’t even know if I deserve it, I just… I needed you to know that I’m sorry. And that I miss you. Even if we can’t go back, I miss you.”

You look at him for a long moment, fighting within yourself not to be affected by his words like you were many years ago. You had spent so much time building yourself up, to just crumble in front of the man you once loved.

“Thank you.” You said gently, but you were firm, this is for you. “But I can’t go back, I’ve spent too much time learning how to live without you.”

A punch to the gut, this is it. He had come hoping for a second chance, but now it’s all gone.

“I understand.” What else was he supposed to say. He gave you a small and sad smile, knowing there was nothing else he could do. “I’m sorry for everything, I hope… I hope you find happiness, you deserve it.”

“Take care of yourself, Lewis.”

And with that you stepped inside and closed the door gently in front of him, leaving him standing alone, hands by his side. Helpless.

Pt. 1

[shigayokagayama]

What are the biggest losses between the manga and anime? I just finished watching mp100 and I'm curious what the manga has!

ok biggest losses are kind of hard to define because like. anime and manga are two inherently different mediums and there are a good amount of cuts that improve pacing and then a good amount of cuts that people sort of argue over the merit of so im just going to go for biggest differences. i would also highly recommend reading the manga just because it is a pretty different experience tonally along with the minor plot differences and cut scenes + theres a bunch of omakes that both flesh out characters that dont get too much focus and have some really good bits in them. putting the rest of this post under a cut bc i ramble

mogami arc

this one is kind of inescapable i feel like but the anime version of the mogami arc had a LOT of things trimmed for a couple different reasons. season 2 already got an extra episode in order to do the fire scene as a cliffhanger so with the way things shook out the director had to choose between a. cutting a bunch of stuff out of separation arc to make it one episode so mogami arc couid stay three episode or b. cutting a bunch of stuff out of mogami arc so separation arc could stay two episodes. imo they made the right choice, whats even the point of adapting mob psycho if you dont get confession arc right, but some of the cuts to mogami arc will be dearly missed and others will be fought over to the end of time. cuts include:

minori being established as a brat in a video everyones shown and the video being part of how reigen deduces shes possessed (reigen deducing her possession in the manga is generally just a lot better done and after you read the manga the scene in the anime feels so awkward because you know whats missing

the psychics deciding to band together to beat this little girl to death to save themselves and shinra stepping between them to protect her and getting utterly thrashed, not by mogami, but his fellow psychics

reigen trying to convince mob to leave without him and call for help while he distracts him which leads to this

the general mogamiland section lasting a lot longer and being more brutal (notably the stray cat mob feeds getting killed in front of him)

mob getting fucking torn to pieces by spirits during the fight instead of ambiguously dying offscreen

generally would recommend if nothing else reading the manga version of this arc and confession arc because i feel like these are the only two where you lose like. a significant amount of the story and themes from the cuts. speaking of....

2. WHY THE FUCK DID THEY CUT THIS I WILL BE MAD UNTIL I DIE

maybe its just because i reread this arc on its own probably 50 times before the anime came out but this is the only arc where the cuts actively piss me off because there is absolutely no reason they had to do it. they cut a bunch of important shit, left in things that didnt need to be there, and added scenes that contribute literally nothing to the overall point. if they just did any one of those things or combo of two of those things i wouldnt be as mad but it feels like they put a bunch of filler in then speedran the actual story

cut #1 that pisses me off: HOMOPHOBIA?????

THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HEART IN HIS EYE. WHY DID THEY NOT INCLUDE THIS. THIS IS THE CULMINATION OF TERUS ARC. THIS IS HIM SEEING THE PERSON HE HAS IDOLIZED AND DEIFIED IN HIS HEAD AT THEIR LOWEST AND STILL CHOOSING TO LOVE HIM, AND THROUGH THIS HE IS CAPABLE OF BEING LOVED EVEN THOUGH HES NOT PERFECT BECAUSE NO ONE IS. WHY WOULD YOU CUT THIS?

cut #2 I NEED WHOEVER CUT THE DIALOGUE FROM THE FIRST PANEL IN PRISON

the lack of inclusion of the first panels dialogue along with the cuts to the mob and shigeo conversation (WHICH WE WILL GET TO) make me think the person who adapted this arc fundamentally misunderstood what was happening. this line. is. THE POINT. THIS ISNT SOME SEPARATE SCARY THING. THIS IS MOB. HE IS CHOOSING TO DO THIS BECAUSE HE IS SCARED AND ANGRY AND HURT BUT HE IS IN CONTROL OF HIS ACTIONS AND ALWAYS HAS BEEN.

cut #3 HE DOESNT WANT TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR HIS ACTIONS

this entire conversation is so good and i was looking forward to watching it voice acted for so long and its just. gone. for me the "i am shigeo kageyama who are you" reveal felt like a gut punch because the opening being "i knew i would be needed" made me go "oh hes like possessed or his powers are sentient or something" and this conversation was the slow unraveling of my view of these as two separate people and instead as a scared, traumatized teenager who has convinced himself that the parts of himself he hates are something else outside of his control instead of an intrinsic part of who he is because if he's convinced that the parts of him that are able to feel desire and frustration and anger and malice are him then he'll lose all these relationships he's worked so hard to cultivate as his perfect, non confrontational self. and of course that isnt true. all his friends and loved ones are making their way to the center of a damn hurricane because they see he's in distress and want to help him. but he cant see that so he pushes them away. ugh. mob. protagonist of all time.

cut #4 WHY WOULD YOU CHANGE THE COMPOSITION OF THIS I CAN LITERALLY SEE HOW THIS WOULD BE ANIMATED IN MY MINDS EYE W

can you imagine how beautiful this would be in motion. just. god.

cut #5 HE WAS TALKING OUT LOUD. REIGEN HEARD ALL THIS

:(

cut #6 the bowling arc

so the scene where reigen takes his shoes off is supposed to be a lot more solemn bc like. taking your shoes off before killing yourself is a trope in japanese media (ive heard it started in media and bled over into real life but i might have it backwards?). reigen knew he was probably going to die. anyway i cant take this scene seriously because of this edit

the bowling arc.

cut #7 WAAAAAAAAAAAA

WAAAAAAAAAAAA *sniff* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

cut #8 homophobia again

rip pensive fruity tea sip

cut #9 mob threw the cake directly in reigens face on purpose

i literally experienced every stage of grief realizing this got changed. why. its so perfect. why would you change this.

3. World Domination arc

so WD arc is in a very interesting place where it had a lot of scenes cut but unlike the other two most of the cut content youre like. yea probably best not to include that. ill start with the good content that got cut then go into the weird content

serizawa got his power drained by toichiro. i am quite sad this scene didnt make it in because its sorta heartbreaking

teru fighting off the claw assassin is shown and we see that teru can both make shadow clones AND hold a barrier while attacking, he seems to be the only esper with this ability!

the reason dimple could tell mob's family was alive is that there was no sense of grudge at the house which would have been left behind by people passing in a violent manner

mob briefly goes unconscious during the start of the toichiro fight and dimple possesses him and says "shit"

dimple possessing mob shoots shibata with a gun

we get mukai lore.

it doesnt make any sense and just raises more questions but we get it.

toichiro has a team of telepaths to recap where everyone is because this arc took an entire calender year to update

literally everyone shows up to fight shimazaki. i cannot stress enough how many people show up to fight shimazaki. it would be faster to list espers who dont show up to fight shimazaki

the middle school delinquents show up and start fighting the claw grunts literally completely out of no where and this is never brought up or referenced ever again

when mob and ritsu get home ritsu says all their stuff is in boxes and they need to hurry and redecorate the house before their parents get home which implies that shou packed the entire households worth of belongings into boxes and hid it somewhere before lighting their house on fire which is such a funny mental image that i cant even be mad at it. loony toons ass plot point.

4. other random interesting cut things

takenaka is just generally more of a bitch during alien arc. "ah i think they took him" remains one of the funniest goddamn panels in the manga

peak

alien arc overall is a lot funnier in the manga, i have a slight preference for the manga version just bc theres a lot of really good bits that didnt make it to anime but the anime version is so heartfelt and nostalgic it makes me happy

between omakes and small things that got cut or changed for the anime teru just feels way more fleshed out in the manga. like. anime teru is a completely different person. its hard to explain if youve never read it.

the all girls school part originally went right before the ghost family stuff and was the beginning of mob's existential crisis about why spirits and people get different treatment but tbh it works well where it is i just wish it werent. like that.

the scene where ritsu and teru shake hands was teru draining ritsus power which he seems to have learned to do from encountering ???%

teru.

ow

thats all i can think of off the top of my head, im sure ill realize i forgot something some time after posting this but. yeah. read the manga its good

[delphi-shield]

kiss it better ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Jill Valentine x Reader Smut / MDLG mdni wc: ~5.6k i don't have to explain myself, so i won't. 🙂‍↕️ dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

summary: Jill's got reservations about this whole 'mommy' thing. She's not the maternal type - but for you, she can try.

content: mommy dom!Jill, little!reader, afab!reader, boot riding, dumbification, extensive depiction of cgl dynamics/lifestyle, humiliation, finger-sucking, spit, fingering, titsucking, aftercare, use of sippy cups/coloring book/the word 'stuffies', ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, implied age gap (di era jill, mid-late 20s+ reader).

In hindsight, the sippy cup should have been the first red flag.

Jill didn’t even bat an eye when you bought it. You'd tucked it to the back of the belt during a grocery trip, hiding it amidst the other canned goods, tried your damnedest to distract her while the cashier rang it up. She didn't know how to break it to you that she had seen you pick it out. She'd watched you deliberate between pink or green - strawberries or watermelon - before settling on pink.

You'd said you were going to look at candles - probably the truth, because you'd put one in the cart, too. Jill had doubled back to pick up laundry detergent and had caught you lingering in the kids aisle. She had always been able to pick you out of a crowd, had a sixth sense for where you were, hand practically magnetized to the small of your back. You looked so focused alone in that aisle that she had swallowed the call of your name and marched back to the cart.

So yes, she’d glossed over the (rather obvious) way you had tried to hide the purchase from her. That was as far as she was letting it go, though. Once you got home, you tried to bury it behind all the coffee mugs. Weird, she thought. You just bought the goddamn thing. You'd been talking about wanting a water bottle with a straw for a full month. It would be out of sight out of mind if you put it way back there, eaten up by the cabinet. 

You shuffled away to put up the rest of the groceries and Jill plucked the cup from the back. She put the pink plastic front and center, right next to the rest of the glassware, as though it belonged there.

“That’ll cut down on our carpet cleaning,” she had even joked when she heard you traipsing back in.

A beat. She turns to look at you over her shoulder, brow raised. You look like a deer caught in floodlights, waiting to be gunned down. It took a moment for you to dig your voice up from the pit of your stomach.

“I know. All the regular ones didn't have the latching lid. Like, I need that anti-spill technology. I have to be baby-proofed.”

Yeah. It was a little out of place that you felt the need to justify the cup to her. Again - in hindsight, maybe it was a little odd. Surely there had been a water bottle that wasn’t pink and covered in cute little strawberries, but you were an adult. You made your own money. If you wanted the sippy cup with the strawberries on it, then you could have it. She wasn't about to police your tastes. After all, at a certain point of maturity you started to realize that the difference between kid stuff and adult stuff was just marketing. So many 'kid' versions of things were just the same as their adult counterparts. Covered in smiling bunnies and rainbows, maybe, but functionally the same item. 

Suffice it to say, Jill didn't give two shits what stuff you bought for yourself. You were prone to spilling drinks, so the latching lid excuse made sense. Her singular complaint was the size. As your designated drink-getter, her trips had doubled. (She'd found some online in a bigger size, all muted, muddy colors, no cartoon strawberries. “Anti-spill technology,” she'd pointed out. You had shrugged, sipping at your little drink. It was the perfect size for one bottle of your favorite apple juice. That, she couldn't deny.)

She'd been unintentionally feeding into your preferred lifestyle the whole time, buying you the cutesy set of stickers for your scrapbook, picking up glittery markers when she saw them on sale. 

The coloring books certainly weren't a bridge too far. You wanted to turn your brain off after a long week at work. That was all, really. Jill hadn’t asked for an explanation - she had asked which ones you liked, that she might pick one out for you. The first few she chosen had been branded 'adult coloring books' but again - what was the difference, other than subject matter and the complexity of some of them? You'd dutifully sat next to her during movie nights and colored regardless of difficulty. Your hand-eye coordination was developed, see? Made staying in the lines so much easier. And the colors you picked out - they don't (usually) clash. That all ties back to that developed eye for style.

‘Babydoll’ might not have been the best choice of pet names for you, but it had slipped out. It felt right, more sincere than ‘dear’ or ‘babe’. If she had known she was unintentionally enabling you, sending the little plastic gears in your head grinding to a halt, she might have picked something different. 

The first time she'd said it, you'd given her a blank look. Jill had sworn not to say it again, already marking that off the list of options, but your response had been quick.

“No–” you reeled yourself in, a little too forceful there. Like a kid stomping their feet. “No, it's okay. I like it.”

How was she supposed to know that you had dubbed her ‘mommy’ in your internal monologue? That ‘babydoll’ did nothing but feed into your perception of her? 

After it had all come out, after your first little slip-up that had sent both of you hurtling headlong into a series of changes in your lifestyle, you'd confessed that you had been thinking of her this way since you had moved in. Jill had been synonymous with ‘mommy’ since your possessions had spilled from the open mouth of the U-Haul and flooded her apartment. Her sparse, curated collection of decorations had been swallowed up in a wash of stuffed animals and plush blankets, and she had done nothing to stem the tide. Hell, she’d piled more on. Bought you stuffed animals from boutiques, airport giftshops, gas stations - anywhere, so long as it made her think of you.

Jill hadn’t thought twice about the stuffies. If most of her keepsakes hadn’t been obliterated via air strike, courtesy of the U.S.A. back in 1998, she’d probably have a collection of decor to contend with yours. Maybe less of the fuzzy variety, but she understood the appeal. She had never been one to get jealous of an inanimate object. If you wanted to lay your head on her lap, favorite stuffed animal coiled tight in your arms, then she had no objection. She’d willingly cocooned you in the fluffiest blanket within reach, her hand settling at the bend of your waist.

So, the stuffed animals? Totally normal. The sleepy, nonsensical babbles you’d catch from time to time during a night in, when it was just the two of you? She didn’t think twice. That had hardly been an adjustment.

Jill felt a little slow for not catching on before you let it slip. There had been so many signs. Piles of evidence all around her, some of which she had contributed to. She must be getting lax as the years wear on. Normally, she's sharp as can be. She'd know things about you before you did.

You’d been riding her boot the first time you said it. Jill had been busy - too busy to spend a couple hours folding you in half and fucking you to sleep, she told you. You'd dragged yourself into her office in your barely-there shorts, nipples pert and peaking the flimsy fabric of your tank top. Wait a minute - not your tank top. Hers. An old, faded Depeche Mode tank, white, damn near see-through.

She kept track of you in her peripheral as you dragged your bean bag chair (she'd offered to get you a real chair, something with back support, but you'd insisted; when you hit thirty, she’ll be able to gloat) right up next to hers, and dropped into it. Foosh. Makes your tits bounce when you plop down like that. That's probably why you did it.

She scooted forward in her chair, flipping the armrest up and kicking one leg out. Your eyes lit with glee. Horny little goblin. You moved to straddle her thigh, hands braced on her knee while you wobbled into position.

“Ah-ah.” Jill didn’t take her eyes from the screen. She kept hammering away at her report, the deadline looming. She stopped at a paragraph break to snap her fingers twice, pointing to the floor. “Down.”

You’d cratered to your knees without so much a second thought. See? Obedience wasn’t new to you. How was she supposed to know it was a different sort of devotion, different from the submission she was used to?

Something warm curls around her ankle - your hand, she realizes with a glance. Jill sighs. She hadn’t said not to touch. It’s difficult to be mad at the way your thumb circles her calf, especially for a command she hadn’t issued. Jill’s chair creaks backwards, her hands stilling on the keyboard. Your chin settles on her knee, eyes big and pleading for her touch.

Jill folds her arms under her chest. Your eyes track the way her chest moves. It's almost cartoonish - she half expects your tongue to loll out of your mouth.

“Get on.” Jill wiggles her boot back and forth. Your head tips to the side, confusion drawing your brows up. “On my boot, babydoll.”

She sees it - the brief flash where you’re drawn out of play time. The quickest twist of annoyance in your pout. How many times did you have to tell her to stop wearing her shoes inside? Especially her work boots, crusted with mud and shit and god knows what else. But if you’re worried about that then you’re too horny to protest. Her babydoll comes back in another blink, pressing your cunt down onto her steel toe.

There you go. Jill starts typing again and you get the hint. You're independent enough that you don't need her direction at every turn. Thank god - she'd never get anything done if you couldn't find a rhythm on your own, if you couldn't use whatever part of her body she dictated to get yourself off.

It doesn't take long for you to start whimpering. Your arms wind around her leg, chest pressed tight to her while you grind your drippy pussy against her. You use her body as leverage to drag yourself back and forth. Poor baby. Reduced to humping her leg like a damn dog.

Your pretty little whimpers come quicker, louder. Jill's fingers scrape against your scalp, urging your head upwards. She pools spit at the tip of her tongue, considers dripping it into you. Your mouth is popped open for her already, moans punctuating every push of your hips.

Any thought of tormenting you with the anticipation disappears when she sees you pinch your nipple, hips circling against the toe of her boot frantically. Your eyes flutter, thighs pulsing, so close–

“Stop.”

Jill rips her boot away for you. You plop against the floor, whining at the loss. Your hand flies to your pussy, rubbing your clit desperately through your shorts.

“I said stop,” Jill grinds out. 

Her hand grips your jaw, fingers curling. You pull your hands away from yourself, fingers glistening when you lay them flat against the tops of your thighs. A whine squeaks out of you. Jill’s eyes narrow.

“Open,” she demands. Your mouth pops open obediently. When Jill gives you a directive, you follow it. Jump— how high? Cum— how hard?

Look at you - perfect little slut, tongue plopped out for her. She spits a fat glob of spit dead center and drops your jaw.

“Swallow.” It’s said carelessly. She looks away from you as if uninterested in you display. Her clit throbs in time with her heartbeat. Perfect girl, perfect, trained little–

You swallow. From the edges of her vision, she sees you stick your tongue back out as proof. “Thank you, mommy.”

The air in the room shifts, suddenly colder. Her skin feels as though it’s been pulled taut. Confusion swirls with her arousal. You said ma’am. Surely you said ma’am.

“What?” She blurts out, hands at a full rest on her keyboard.

You’ve still got that floaty, airy look about you. Jill wonders if it’s even possible to get a straight answer out of you right now.

“Thank you?” You repeat, unsure yourself. You blink quickly. She can pinpoint the moment you come back into your body, shoulders tensing, eyes widening, skirting away from her. “Uh– ma’am?”

Nice try. Not buying it.

“Did you call me mommy?”

Jill will probably regret the way she had spat that out until the day she died. It hadn’t been worth seeing the crushed look on your face, the shame flushed through you in a full-body shudder. In the moment, though, she can’t deny the pulse of disgust.

That night had ended on unsteady footing. She’d asked you not to call her that. You’d apologized again and again throughout the conversation, set her teeth on edge with how small you’d made yourself. It felt worse, seeing you slink out of her office, knowing you were going to curl up in bed - knowing you’d pretend to be asleep when she came in to check on you a few minutes later.

She had already been doing this for you, she realized. The new context was uncomfortable. She had sat in that feeling for a few days, tried to fall back into the patterns of your relationship without thinking of them these new, strained terms. Despite reassurances, she’d watched you shove away the things that had made you so comfortable.

No more coloring books - not in front of her at least. You’d left a stray marker lying out when you scrambled to hide the evidence of your coloring from her. Your sippy cup had been pushed to the back of the cabinet again, no matter how many times she’d moved it back to the front.

The final straw was when you’d started packing your stuffed animals away.

She could have been gentler about the whole thing, admittedly, but it had made her so goddamn angry to see you shove away things that made you happy. You had misunderstood her - or she hadn’t communicated clearly, or – or something.

“Quit,” she demands, pulling the stuffies from their cardboard prison. She set them firmly back on your side of the bed (never tossing - you’d told her before, tossing them was mean). “Stop doing this shit, babe. You don’t have to quit doing stuff you like.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No, I–” Jill pinches the bridge of her nose. This is going nowhere, round and round in circles. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slow.

“I don’t want it in the bedroom.”

“Then where do you want them?”

“Not the– the stuffed animals can stay. Okay? I just don’t like it when we’re having sex. The ‘mommy’ stuff. But you– I want you to be how you want to be with me. We were already doing the little stuff before. Right?” Jill’s hand cups your cheek, urges you to keep looking at her. There’s no hiding from this, not from her.

You still struggle to meet her eyes. She can tell you’ve picked a spot over her shoulder, staring past her. She ducks her head, puts herself into your vision.

“...Kinda. Yeah.”

“Then we can keep doing that.” Her answer is firm. She’s spent hours thinking about this, analyzing where her discomfort came from, why it hit her so goddamn hard – how to ensure you never felt so rejected by her again. The discomfort lingers, smaller than before. Dwarfed by how greatly she misses having you next to her and comfortable. There had been an openness that she had stolen from you. “...Just don’t call me mommy when you’re getting off on my boot anymore, okay? I’m not ready for that.”

In time, the discomfort faded. Having you next to her at the end of a hard week, eyes wide and vulnerable, trusting her completely to take care of her - it became a little intoxicating. Her boundaries expanded, pushed farther and farther from where they had started as she slipped back into routine.

It surprises her how well she takes to it. Jill hasn't got much in the way of maternal instincts. She's good with dogs, though, and kids and dogs both need discipline. It's the same thing, right?

No. Not at all. But you're not really a kid. Your real mom did all the hard work, and now Jill gets to sweep in and have all the fun. Sit. Roll over. Speak. You're good at those. 

Stay, not so much. She knows she’s got you in the right headspace when you won't stop wiggling. Jill's grown accustomed to slinging an arm across your stomach when she buries her face in your pussy. The squirming never ends, and pressing your hips into the mattress had only ever made you curl upwards, arms bracketing her head, shoving her face into your cunt.

The real danger is letting you sit on her face while you're like this. You squirm and buck, squeal out your pleasure while she laps at you. She rocks her head from side to side, her nose bumping against your pudgy clit. The way you thrust down into her - christ, you’re going to send her to the hospital one day.

That was how it had been the first time Jill had opened up the floodgates, the first time she’d let these little games back into your bedroom.

Her hands palm the globes of your ass, spreading you open for her tongue. She keeps you nice and tight against her face, her neck craned at an angle that would hurt later. A problem for tomorrow. Today’s problem is that you keep biting your knuckle, tucking those pretty little sounds away from her.

Jill swats your ass, quick, sharp. She pulled away only far enough to reprimand you – “Don’t hide from mommy” – before she wrapped her lips around your clit and churned her tongue against you, again and again.

You let out a surprised squeak, garbled behind your fist. Your hips shot forward, pressing her face into the mattress, suffocating her with your cunt. Jill moaned, gripped you tighter, held you to her face and tongue-fucked you through an orgasm that made your spine twist, your thighs clamp tight around her head.

Jesus Christ - that’s what she’d been missing out on? All because she’d been too squeamish about a title?

That was all it took to convince herself that she was fine with it, really. Jill helped you roll off of her. She lowered you back to the mattress as if you were a priceless, fragile little thing. The urge to care for you, to pamper you, had never been stronger. You’d nearly had to force her to quit flitting around you. It took insisting that you needed to cuddle for her to stop, for her to let you settle against her.

“I think you broke my nose,” Jill teases.

“Stop.” You hide your face in the top sheet, but she hears you bite off a giggle. Her hands float to your sides, long digits brushing along the curve of your ribs, snaking up your stomach to cup your breasts. She rolls them in her palms - together, then apart, thumbs flicking over your nipples. Languid, no heat behind it. No need for another round, not yet, but she wants to appreciate the art before her.

“I'm serious.” Jill turns her head to the side. Her profile silhouettes in the lamplight.

She's the kind of woman they make statues of. Her nose cuts a proud shape from the light, the slope of her brow relaxed only here in your bedroom. It occurs to you to trail a finger along contour of her face and, uninhibited, you do. Jill holds still for you, let’s you marvel at the work before your eyes. Her nose has been broken before - not by your weight, but by fists. Her throat bobs as you trail a knuckle down her chin, against the delicate skin of her neck, childish in your wonder. 

Jill still had her boundaries, the same as you had yours.

Your appreciation is every bit grown. You tuck yourself against her side, kiss along her jaw until you reach her lips. You mutter your ‘I love you’ against her there. She can be ‘mommy’, she realizes. Just for you, just within your home.

No disciplinarian stuff, not while you're acting all little. It makes her feel grimy. You don't get in trouble for little stuff, not for leaving your coloring book out or for flooding the living room with stuffies while she's away. You do get in trouble being an absolute brat and pawing at her leg while she's in the middle of a meeting.

That had been fun. You'd been all curled up in your beanbag chair, tucked out of frame while Jill listened in on the eastern European division’s quarterly report. Evidently, reduction in bioterrorism incidents weren't thrilling enough for you. She’d popped her leg out to the side, wiggled her boot at you - a command you knew well enough by then. 

What kind of mommy makes her baby girl ride her boot? A strict one. It had always been a favorite punishment, denying you her touch and making you get yourself off however she dictated. But when you were all soft and malleable? Desperate for her attention, for her touch? Now it has her soaking herself. An added, unexpected side effect? You'd stopped nagging her to take her boots off as much.

On the other hand, you staunchly refused for this to be a 24/7 arrangement. You were an adult. You contributed to the house, had goals and ambitions just as much as she did. As happy as Jill was to pamper you, to be your mommy when you needed it, she wasn't ever to hold that over your head. 

Once, she'd dared to tease you in the middle of a discussion about utilities - gas bill's so high 'cause my babydoll like the house too warm - and the look you'd given her had been enough to make her backtrack immediately. You hadn't even been willing to entertain the notion that she might treat you as less capable, less of an equal partner just because you enjoyed her care.

That had been a rocky discussion.

“I don't want to do this with you if you're just going to think less of me for it.”

Christ, she wants to pull her hair out, stuff her words back into her mouth and just pay the goddamn gas bill. It wasn't like you couldn't afford it.

“I don't think less of you.”

“Then don't say stuff like that.”

“Babe, you're kind of overreacting.”

Your eyes harden. Obviously, that hadn't been the right thing to say either.

She'd nearly lost you in that conversation. Not entirely, not your whole relationship - just this soft, needy part that craves a softer touch, a nurturing hand. Maybe a better, more experienced mommy would have stepped it back better, assured you that wasn't what she meant. But Jill's not built for this, not naturally.

It's your thing. She's just indulging you.

She gathers up your coloring books, piling them neatly on the coffee table. She takes a minute to thumb through them, to admire the work you'd done that evening. Spooky Cutie, Gummy Bear World, the more complicated dinosaur coloring book from the Smithsonian. You'd been rotating - proudly showing her your work from page to page, polling her on what color you should use from time to time. One moment it was a bear and a cat cooking stew together in a simplified, cutesy kitchen. The broth was dark brown because mommy had decided they were having beef stew, not chicken and dumplings.

The next, you were asking for her favorite dinosaur, then her second favorite, then her third, and flipping through your book to find any one of them. She'd never seen a more elaborate backdrop for a triceratops. You'd dutifully laid out every shade of green you had and set to work on the foliage. Halfway through the movie she realized she'd missed a plot point, too busy checking in on your coloring.

It's not her thing. She just ended up at a craft store one day for something completely different. It was a good deal on markers, honest. Yeah. The deal had been on the ones that were high-end, that had the shades of green you needed to really make that cretaceous-era flora pop.

Jill is so fucked.

Right. Definitely just your thing.

She's above this. Keeps her personal life and her professional life neatly separated, despite the Redfield's best efforts. Claire knows she has a serious girlfriend. She'd done the detective work on Jill's limited social media, pored over new friends and comments like it was her job. 

(“I had in-flight wi-fi.” Never a sentence you want to hear Claire Redfield say.

“So you wasted your time stalking me online?”

Claire shrugs. “Your girlfriend posts a lot and she likes everything you post. It wasn't hard to figure it out. She seems nice. Not subtle, but, you know – nice.”)

If Claire knows, then Chris knows. For years he's maintained that he hates gossip, but he's always suspiciously well-informed.  

So when Chris sets a big hand on her shoulder and asks how the detective work is going, the appropriate answer should be ‘fine’ or ‘I'm going to blow my brains out if I have to dig through another financial record’. It should not be:

“Mommy's tired.”

Silence. God, she can't have said that. That wasn't what came out of her mouth, surely. She just said ‘I'm tired’, right?

Jill looks up at Chris. His eyebrows are in the fucking stratosphere. Before she can tell him not to say a goddamn word, his face splits into a grin.

“Does mommy want a coffee?”

“I'm reporting you to HR.”

Chris laughs, full-bodied, the sound bursting from his chest. He looks years younger in that moment, and when she huffs a laugh she wonders if she does too. All of that gets wiped away when she remembers how utterly fucked she is. Her cover is blown, her personal life finally hemorrhaged into the office.

“I'm reporting you to HR,” he counters. He swings himself into the chair opposite her desk. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not if I have to call you mommy.”

Jill’s more than a little pent up when she kicks the door closed that evening. You turn your head, hands plunged in the basin of the sink. Domestic, homey - not quite her babydoll, but her girlfriend.

As you can imagine, the rest of the day was a nightmare. Chris didn’t know how to let a joke die, but at least he had the sense to keep it between the two of them.

She can change that.

“How was work?” You greet.

“You got me in trouble today.”

Confusion clouds your eyes. You try to turn from the sink, but Jill's arms cage you in. She's not a tall woman, but it's never stopped her from being imposing. She wedges her knee between your legs and lifts, pressing against your cunt. The heat pouring through you short circuits your brain, leaves all your intelligible thoughts fizzling out of your mouth in a confused heap.

“Huh?” Is what you finally manage to muster.

Jill snorts. Very intelligent. Her hands grip your hips. She turns you to face her, presses you down against her thigh, rocks your hips back and forth for you until you get the picture. Your movements are slower, uncertain. She has to battle the urge to force your movements quicker. Patience. She can rip the pleasure from you later.

Her mouth latches onto your neck, open-mouthed kisses pressed against your skin again and again, your pulse quick and unsteady under her lips. Your hands hover inches over her sides, water dripping from your fingertips, iridescent suds drying against your skin. You're not going back to the dishes, not if she can help it; leave them to soak in the sink.

Jill shifts a hand under your waistband, fingers ghosting just above your panties. A shudder rattles down your spine, stomach rolling against her hand. She slips her other hand up your front, ghosting between your breasts. Her knuckles catch under your chin.

“Everyone knows, babydoll.”

It's cute, watching you try to put the pieces together. Your poor little brain is frying and she still turns up the temperature on you. She shifts her leg away to palm your cunt through your panties. Goddamn, you may as well be molten heat at this point. Won't be much longer before she has you dripping into her palm.

It takes all her restraint not to shove your panties to the side and plunge her fingers into your needy little pussy then and there. Patience will make it sweeter, wetter, make you cling to her shoulders, clamp around her so tightly she loses circulation.

Her hand moves from your chin the moment you start forming a question. She presses her middle and ring finger to the seam of your lips and you open before she can so much as muster the first syllable. She chuckles, derisive. Your tongue swirls around her, laving against the pads of her fingers. Dutiful, obedient, her perfect little babydoll lapping at her skin.

You suckle, sloppy wet noise spilling from your mouth. A rush of love hits Jill square in the chest. It drops, settles in her gut right next to the need to claim.

“Everyone knows you need mommy to take care of you,” she coos, mocking. You squirm, something between fear and arousal sparking in your eyes. You suck harder. Definitely arousal.

It’s easy to walk you over to the counter, hips pressed tight to yours. She lets you suck at her fingers as long as she can before she needs that hand to pick you up and drop you on the countertop. Jill shoves your shorts down, tugs your panties to the side. Her spit-slick fingers trail along your slit. You shuffle down, greedy for more of her touch. Her poor baby, alone all day - and already so wet for her.

You suck her fingers in greedily. Her hand presses at your hip, a silent urge for you to stay still, to let her prep you. You can get so ahead of yourself, she knows - but she’ll take care of you. Jill’s mouth latches onto your neck. She only detaches to shuck your t-shirt up and off.

Your legs latch over her hips, trapping her hand between your bodies. Greedy little girl, taking more than she wanted to give. Jill can’t be angry about it, not now. She pumps her fingers into you steadily. Her mouth trails down to your chest, lips latching onto your nipple.

“Take it, babydoll, there you go – take it for me.” Her breath fans against your breast. She buries her face between them, moans against your sternum. Your back arches, tits pressing into her. Your arms press your tits together around her head, smothering her, and her pussy clenches around nothing.

Jill's fingers drill into you, grind right up against that spot that makes you squirm. She could find it blindfolded. No more long, slow-strokes with her thick fingers. Hard, deep, just how you need, thumb rubbing your clit.

Fuck - you must need this as badly as she does. You snap after a few more strokes, moan strangled and high. Your chest arches, your hands flying into her hair, holding her tight to your tits.

“Good girl, perfect girl for mommy– gonna have you cumming all night.” Promises seared into your skin just before her mouth latches above your breast, sucks a bruise into your skin.

Your hand pushes at her wrist, babbling about too much. Jill nearly goddamn growls, as if you’re trying to take her favorite toy away. Her thumb slows against your clit, fingers drawing languidly out of you. One last pump for good measure, just to watch your legs twitch.

Her cheek rests against your chest, rising and falling with your breaths.. She watches you recover with half-lidded eyes.

“Do��� do people really know?” You ask once you’ve managed to regain the ability for language processing.

Jill pouts. Clearly she hasn’t fucked you good enough if you’re still worried about that. She shifts to grip your hips, tugging you the the edge of the counter. She cants her hips up, trying to fit them flush with yours. Promises for later.

“Just Chris.” You groan. Honestly, it could be way worse. You’re overreacting. She knows better than to say that out loud now. “He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

“Not even his sister?”

Jill hesitates. She steps back from the counter, helps your newborn deer legs find their foot on the floor. She thumbs the button of her jeans open, stumbling out of them while she helps you over to the couch. You’re easy to position like this, malleable to her wants. Just how you both like it. Jill swats your ass - playful, not punishing.

“You worry too much. They’re not gonna care.”

“What if I care?”

Jill sinks to the floor in front of you, guiding your legs up to her shoulders. She kisses her way up your sweat-slick skin, savoring the taste on her tongue on her way to your core.

“Just let mommy kiss it all better.”

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 50: 50 Facts for 50 Parts

How the hell did I get to part 50?!?!?! This is insanity.

The Eleventh Doctor once got hit with an electromagnetic pulse that left him needing to rebuild his mind, during which time he lived as Mr. Foreman. Valarie would sell her cybernetic enhancements to Mr. Foreman in exchange for money and the chance to check on the TARDIS, often telling him stories about the Doctor as she did so. Mr. Foreman used so many of her enhancements that she lost herself. (Audio: Curiosity Shop)

The Fifth Doctor has been tied up in strappado before. (Audio: The Church and the Crown)

The Ninth Doctor has lost or forgotten the ability to play the spoons. (Audio: Station to Station)

Aspirin is fatal to Time Lords. (Novel: The Left-Handed Hummingbird; Burning Heart; Audio: The Condemned)

The Brigadier lost his virginity as a Second Lieutenant when he was 21 years old. (Novel: Deadly Reunion)

The Thirteenth Doctor has introduced herself as "Sarah Jane Smith" before. (Short story: Mission of the KaaDok)

The Third Doctor was able to sense that he was near the end of his life before being irradiated. (Audio: The Children of the Future)

Mozart got cloned in the future many times because they were inspired by his creativity. This made one clone travel to the past to make Mozart immortal with the intention of draining him of that creativity, which would make sure those clones were never made. The Sixth Doctor traveled to Mozart's deathbed to convince him not to trust the clone, and Mozart eventually dies very confused by what was going on. (Audio: My Own Private Wolfgang)

Ace once tried to use the Seventh Doctor's "look me in the eye, pull the trigger" manipulation tactics, but because she's not a hypnotist or psychic like him, she ends up shot anyway. (Audio: The Fearmonger)

Hannah Bartholomew stowed away on the TARDIS, looking for an adventure. She ended up being instrumental in saving the day on the God-King's Tomb Ship and joined Nyssa and the Fifth Doctor more officially. (Audio: Tomb Ship)

Iris Wildthyme has her own version of the Valeyard called Bianca. She rebuilt her TARDIS as a nightclub and tried to steal Iris's regenerations. (Audio: The Wormery)

The Thirteenth Doctor and the Master, locked together in a psychic link, once talked about their issues. They talked about their pasts, but the Master refused to tell her about the "mystery" he was keeping from her. (Short story: The Doctor vs the Master)

After being irradiated, the Third Doctor wandered the time vortex for an entire decade, his body breaking down the entire time. It got to a point where he could not reach the console and was left drifting until the TARDIS finally landed herself. (Novel/Audio: Love and War)

The Thirteenth Doctor once tried to celebrate Yaz's birthday with a tea party in Boston, 1773. (Comic: The Forest Bride)

The Eighth Doctor was separated into his three different sides once. One side was sensible. The other was quite bouncy and excitable, and it was a wonder he didn't get killed while being distracted by something. The third side was incredibly nasty and could be quite violent without the other two sides there to balance him out. (Audio: Caerdroia)

The Fifth Doctor is so good with a bow and arrow that he could shoot an arrow with a piece of parchment attached to it through a window in a tower and snuff out the flame of the candle he was aiming at. (Audio: Son of the Dragon)

The Ninth Doctor once invited a woman named Adriana to travel with him in the TARDIS, only for her to almost immediately die. (Audio: The Bleeding Heart)

When taking into account the battered appearance of his TARDIS console, the Second Doctor realized that the Time Lords had been sending him on missions for a long time, using him as a pawn. Unfortunately, every time he realized this, they erased his memory. (Short story: Save Yourself)

The Twelfth Doctor recalled pulling the Sword from the Stone, becoming King of England for a day, and then abdicating to King Arthur. (Novel: Silhouette)

The Eleventh Doctor used the alias Jean Valjean to infiltrate Alcatraz. (Comic: Escape into Alcatrax)

The Toymaker once turned the Eighth Doctor into a ventriloquist's doll, and he was unable to move or speak unless Charley was holding him. When he did speak, he would shout and protest desperately against the situation. (Audio: Solitaire)

About six hours after the events of The Tomb of the Cybermen, Captain Hopper and his crew ran into the Fifth Doctor, Tegan, and Nyssa, and Hopper was killed by two cyber-converted crewmembers. (Audio: Secrets of Telos)

The Third Doctor became a British citizen at some point. (Audio: The Doll of Death)

After leaving the Eighth Doctor, Zagreus became Perfection, who was a huge flirt towards the Doctor. (Audio: The Next Life)

William Shakespeare once spiked the Fifth Doctor's drink with ginger, leading to the predictable drunken effects. (Audio: The Kingmaker)

The Thirteenth Doctor also really likes ginger nuts, garibaldis, and fig rolls and gets them from the biscuit dispenser in her TARDIS. (Comic: The Forest Bride)

The Sixth Doctor considers Braxiatel condescending and doesn't really like him, but he still trusts him. (Audio: The 100 Days of the Doctor)

When the Fifth Doctor was stabbed in the chest, he was able to survive due to his characteristic heart anatomy, but he was still out for the count for a while. (Audio: Son of the Dragon)

The Sixth Doctor had been known to play with swivel chairs, even going "wheeeee!" while gliding around in them. (Audio: The Sandman)

The Ninth Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to seal the Compassionate away in the rift. He also rigged the sonic to explode. However, this sonic screwdriver was the model commonly used by the War Doctor, not the one from the first series of nuwho. (Audio: The Bleeding Heart)

The Twelfth Doctor thought he might regenerate when he was infected with the Venusian flu, but he also worried that the flu would take such a toll on him that he wouldn't be able to regenerate. (Audio: The Lost Flame)

Kwundaar looks so terrifying that the Doctor screamed after merely looking at him. (Audio: Primeval)

Erimem - a companion of the Fifth Doctor - brought her cat Antranak on board the TARDIS, whom the Doctor despised. There were several reasons for this, including that the Doctor was occasionally unable to set the controls because Antranak was lying on top of them. (Audio: The Church and the Crown)

C'rizz's father almost drowned him once as punishment for deviating from the Church of the Foundation. (Audio: The Next Life)

The Twelfth Doctor's sonic sunglasses have a Telepathic Emergency Beacon, which allows him to take control of another person's body. (Short story: My Dad, The Doctor)

There was a murderer in a place called the Needle, which should be impossible since everyone there has a chip inside of them stopping them from being violent. This killer traveled from person to person, something referred to as "redlining." The Seventh Doctor immediately redlined after being chipped. This whole situation began because a time traveller came to the needle, and the time travel mechanism was organic and a part of her, which made the computer go mad. The Doctor was drawn there and was sensitive to redlining due to his time sensitive nature and his biology. (Audio: Red)

Simon and Joanne, two characters in Lant Land, thought that Tegan and Turlough's names were unbelievable and proposed they change them to Yvonne and Derek. (Audio: Lant Land)

The Eleventh Doctor once gave the name Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart as a pseudonym. (Novel: Shroud of Sorrow)

Gemma, one of the Eighth Doctor’s companions, has called him Dad before, but the Doctor preferred to be called a cool uncle. (Audio: Terror Firma)

Turlough hates the cold and will complain if put in it. (Audio: Singularity)

The Sixth Doctor and Evelyn once thought they had accidentally cockblocked Julius Caesar's parents on the night of his conception. This meant that instead a baby girl named Julia was born, which Evelyn thought would be a brilliant chance to revolutionize the world. She kept trying to stop the Doctor from convincing Julius Caesar Sr. and Aurelia from hooking up at the proper time. Eventually, the two realize that 101 BC is before 100 BC and that they were doing this for no reason at all. (Audio: 100 BC)

The Spriggan was an alternate universe version of the Doctor, who terrorized a planet and used their youth to power his TARDIS. He even created an new Leela, but she fought him to protect the Tenth Doctor and threw him into the vortex. (Audio: Splinters)

The Galyari are a species of 8-foot tall reptiles that had extraordinary eyesight. Because of their exceptional vision, they found the Sixth Doctor to be literally painful to look at because of his coat. They were afraid of him and called him "the Sandman." (Audio: The Sandman)

The Tenth Doctor referred to the Seventh as the mysterious and manipulative type, the sort of rebellious phase someone goes through when they turn 1000 years old. (Novel: Legends of Camelot)

Joshua Douglas was a companion of the Third Doctor but stopped traveling with him after a disagreement. He was later killed while with the Fourth Doctor and Leela. (Audio: The Catalyst)

Mandy Litherland was incredibly fond of and sweet on the Ninth Doctor. After traveling to the past, she kissed the Doctor. The Doctor almost invited her to travel with him but didn't because he knew she probably wouldn't accept. (Audio: Auld Lang Syne)

Sometimes, when the Sixth Doctor is distressed and going off the deep end of his emotions, he has been known to break down in Evelyn's presence and cuddle with her. (Audio: Arrangements for War)

The Veil left the Twelfth Doctor a spade made of duralinum and a dwarf star alloy, which would have been strong enough to break the azbantium wall. The Doctor was wary of it, assuming it was a trap, and he used his fists on the wall instead. (Short story: The Veil)

Missy once saved the life of a young girl whose sister had asked her for help. She had stopped to rescue the child stuck high up while being chased by an assassin, without further witness, and without reward. The Doctor does not know of this. (Audio: The Chaos Cascade)

A young version of the Fifth Doctor post-Four to Doomsday once got displaced in time. Experiencing time slippage, he swapped places with his future selves and learned that Adric had died far too early. Eventually, he ended up in the body of an Auton duplicate the Master had made of the Doctor. He eventually faded away and died as the time slippage unraveled his past and his memories to an extent where he was running on his most basic desire: to save Adric. He had been convinced that if he was put back in his own time he could save him, and for that reason, the older Fifth Doctor refused to return him. (Audio: The Auton Infinity)

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[sleepingdayaway]

You're my baby and I love you so much!

I got Hyrule Warriors on the switch and I was able to get Young Link unlocked as a warrior. Just seeing him and how tiny he is makes me love him even more. Idk if it's obvious yall but I might have favorites (Time)

Characters: Warriors, Time (younger version), Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of fights? We're in Hyrule Warriors yall

The air was tense.

The screeching of bokoblins following the attack of hyrulian soldiers.

The pains of anguish from said soldiers as they fought back against them.

Currently the Princess of Hyrule is leading an army against the opposing commander of the monsters around Hyrule field. Being completely honest, this was a unexpected attack but who ever is leading was pretty damn good.

Taking the charging attack on the final keep was the Legendary Hero, Link. Who recently saved the castle from the forces of Ganon. It was supposed to be another simple clean up, since there are still monsters from when the portals brought them in from different ages.

Including other warriors from those ages; Daruina, Ruto, Fi, Midna, Agitha. They all helped to protect their homes from the evil that wanted to spread across the realms. Gradually, with long and enduring battles with a few close calls did their efforts finally show.

But that meant that whatever was leaked out was still around, and that meant having to continue fighting.

The training sword cuts through flawlessly in the enemies, as Link expertly moves through the the fight. Never once removing his eyes from the monsters in front of him, which made him slightly vulnerable from behind.

A huge bokoblin notices this small error, and sneaks up with it's weapon at the ready. Making sure that he's surrounded as the others distract him, it lunges for a strike before it gets knocked down suddenly. The surrounding bokoblins jumps away when the body falls to the ground, they all screech in realization and furiously turn towards the person that attacked.

There stood [Name] with a huge frown on their face as they readied their weapons, twin cross bows. Credits to Linkle who happily lent them extras. Zeroing in on the monsters without hesitation as they backed up Link, speeding up on taking over the keep.

Once the rest of the soldiers appear to take over on guarding did they both rest for a bit. Link, sheepishly stared at [Name], as said person narrowed their eyes at him.

"You need to watch out from behind too, I can't warn you like how I used to, Link."

"I know, I'm sorry. I guess I got used to you always being with me, that I forgot you have an actual physical body now."

This was something they also were getting used to, being physically in the battle and not just controlling Link. When [Name] first appeared they panicked and refused to interact with anyone since they were afraid that the others would assume that they were a spy. Thankfully, it was Lana who found the [hair color] first and helped before leading them to the others; it wasn't until the battle was over did they all finally introduce each other.

Link recognized their voice immediately, the person who helped him during the war, and latched onto them like a leech.

Now here they were assisting everyone in making sure everything goes smoothly. Only 1 keep remains and it's the final one, the one that holds the person that orchestrated this attack.

Sprinting across the land to reach the final keep before they could think about running away. Link and [Name] made it to one of the entrances as they prepared their weapons.

Looking inside the building, it was filled with the other monsters that filled the other keeps. Except in the middle where it appears they're all surrounding their leader.

The sound of the monsters fades away as the familiar melody of an ocarina fills their ears. Link tights his grip on the master sword as he prepares his body to attack, meanwhile [Name] perks up at the melody, having recognized it from somewhere.

The song plays before it falters for a moment. It picks up again, but stops once more as if they're trying to play by memory.

The monsters part out of the way, so [Name] and Link can see the figure much more clearly.

A small child, who looks no older than 10 years old stands with his back facing them, a mask resting on the belt stares at the duo. As if knowing they were behind him; did he put the ocarina away before fixing the mask on his head. The other mask is still boring holes onto them, a dark menacing aura flows freely from it.

Until it stops.

The blonde turns around as he places the mask over his face; pulling out a sword that's slightly bigger than him and swings it around clumsily. That causes the Keaton mask to slip from his face, but he catches it before it call fall to the ground. Rearranging it to it's original position on his head.

He lifts up the sword again and looks up at [Name] and Link. A smile on his face.

How do they explain to Zelda that this is a child who looks exactly like fucking Link.

Link's grip on his sword falters, a child-

There was no way he could harm one. It must be some sort of twisted joke, but it couldn't be. Before heading over here the entire army searched every inch of land to make sure everything was cleared.

The Hero looks at his companion to see if they could do something that doesn't involve fighting, but he noticed that they're no longer next to him. Instead [Name] has already jumped in; their crossbows discarded on the ground.

Now, in their arms in the young boy, who looks up at the [hair color] person as they held him close. "LINKKKK- OH LOOK HOW SMALL YOU ARE"

The boy, Link, scrunches his face at their voice before they widen once he realized who was holding him.

A grin grows on his face as he tried to embrace [Name] back with his small limbs. Which in turn causes them to cry at the action.

Quickly rushing in to finish off the monsters that surrounded them, (Warriors) Link attacked the enemies as the other two hold each other.

Warrior's made sure they're all gone before staring at the duo with a dumbfounded expression. "Uh, sorry for interrupting a heartfelt moment, but how do you two know each other?"

[Name] looks at him before setting down Young Link, "Well, for starters he's also another person that I helped before-"

Young Link, once on the ground throws himself back towards them and attached his body at [Name's] hip.

That causes them to choke up again as tears welled up in their eyes.

"Augh-! You're my baby! You're my baby and I love you so much-"

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Seventeen

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. angst, Az is a bit of an asshole in this, mentions of parental abuse, mentions of death/grieving, fluff, canon level violence, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You join the IC in their visit to Hewn City.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen - Sixteen

“Rhys wants you to join us at the Court of Nightmares.” Azriel said the next day during your breakfast. 

You looked up from your meal, glancing around at the Illyrians sitting around you. “You’re going to the Court of Nightmares?” You asked. 

“Yes… unfortunately. We’ll need to call in the Darkbringers soon… and we need something for the Queens.” He said. 

“Why does Rhys want me there?” You asked, moving around your food. The thought of going to the Court of Nightmares didn’t sit well with you. You might be able to handle the Illyrians… but the residents of Hewn City were different. You remember being stuck Under the Mountain, fashioned after the city. Your thoughts drifted to the horrors you went through there. If Under the Mountain was fashioned after it… 

Azriel rested a hand on your knee, low enough under the table the other Illyrians couldn’t see. He and the shadows sensed the direction of your thoughts. “Because you’re part of the Inner Circle now.” He said. “And you’re one of us. We would never let anything happen to you.” 

Your eyes shifted to his hand, the gentle squeeze he gave you grounding you back to reality. “I’m part of the Inner Circle?” You asked. 

“I’m pretty sure Rhys thinks of you as his sister, so yes.” He said, pursing his lips to hide his smile. 

“And what do you think of me as…” You asked, leaning closer to him. To hell with what the Illyrians thought. You were falling hard for the male next to you and if that made you weak… then so be it. 

Azriel studied your eyes, the smile finally slipping from his lips. “So much more.” He whispered, then leaned back. “Finish your meal. I have a surprise for you.” He said and stood up, squeezing your shoulder. “Meet me at the Far East training ring in ten minutes.” He said before walking out of the mess hall. 

You took a deep breath, shaking the thought of him from your mind as you finished your meal. In five minutes, you appeared at the training ring, seeing a smaller version of the qualifying course set up. “This is where the males practice before they officially try the course.” Azriel said. “Five laps for warm up, stretches, and then you’ll run this until you finish in under ten minutes.” He said. 

You bit your lips. “Powers at all?” You asked and he shook his head. “Only training weapons.” He said, nodding to the weapons rack. 

“When did you set this up?” You asked and started stretching out your arms and legs for the day. A flash of his head between your legs went through your mind and you turned away, studying the course. You couldn’t be distracted. 

“When you were still sleeping this morning.” He answered. 

He made you run the course all day, only breaking for lunch. By the end of it, you had finished it in 15 minutes. You couldn’t get past the large rock wall that was set up. How in the Cauldron Azriel dragged that over here, you couldn’t figure it out. Unless Rhys came over and transported it with his magic. 

You were sore and exhausted by the time night fall came, just in time for Rhys to walk into the cabin. Azriel looked up from where he was rubbing your shoulders. Your felt heat rise to your face, hoping Rhys wouldn’t say anything. Friends could give each other massages… 

“I see you two are on speaking terms now.” Rhys said and leaned against the table next to the door. “Did Azriel tell you about Hewn City?” He asked. 

You shifted and faced him, Azriel’s hands falling from your shoulders. His shadows came and swirled around your back instead, the cool sensations relaxing you further. “Yes… I’ll go.” You said. “He also told me you had Feyre go to the Weaver’s Cottage to retrieve a ring? Please don’t tell me you plan on proposing to her with it.” 

Rhys only smirked in response. “How’s training? You’re using your Siphon properly? Don’t need two?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “As powerful as I am, one training Siphon is enough. I can’t imagine what it was like when you and Cass were trying to use them.” You said, turning to face Azriel. 

Azriel shrugged, putting on that cool mask he wore almost all the time. “Anyway, I’m doing fine. When do we go to Hewn City?” You asked. 

“Tomorrow… you’ll be there so I can introduce you as the emissary to the Illyrians. It may come in handy when we’re in battle with the Darkbringers.” Rhys said. 

You hummed and took a shaky breath. “I don’t have anything to wear.” You said. You remembered what they wore in Hewn City and you definitely didn’t have anything close to their fashion. You weren’t sure you even wanted to wear that. If you were being shown as an emissary, you would need to be dressed as one of his court, not a warrior like Az or Cassian. 

“Amren will find you something… it might be revealing.” He said, looking at you for a few moments. You simply shrugged, knowing exactly what he meant. 

“I can handle it.” You said and smiled. “You want me back at the House tonight, I assume?” You asked. 

“Only if you want to come.” He said and you nodded, looking at Azriel as he stood up and held out a scarred hand. You took it and stood up slowly. “This one here had me running all day…” you said and nudged Azriel’s shoulder. Your wings were even sore. He refused to let you use them in the course. 

Rhys chuckled and held out a hand for both of you, quickly winnowing you above the house. You all glided into the balcony and you grabbed Azriel’s bicep to steady yourself. 

Amren did find a dress for you to wear. Well… dress was a strong word for the fabric. It had a tight fitting bodice, only covering your breasts, abdomen, and your underside, thankfully covering your rear. Other than that, it was completely sheer black material, with swirling designs that complimented your shadows. Mor helped you curl your hair and put some kohl on your eyelids. You knew it wasn’t as much as most of Hewn City, but you would fit in well enough. You were representing Rhysand’s Court. And you would do as good of a job as you could. 

You were glad to see Feyre, and she actually pulled you in for a hug. She had filled in all of her curves, you could tell she was sleeping better. She told you about her trip to the Weaver’s Cottage. And that she went to the Bone Carver in the Prison. Az hadn’t mentioned that. 

“Training with Cassian going well?” You asked as you slipped on the heels Mor gave to you. Her outfit for the Court was much more revealing than yours, but you knew she was playing a certain part. You may not agree with it, but you knew Rhys had a plan. You knew Feyre was meant to play a part while they went to get the Orb to show to the Queens. You were glad Rhys didn’t ask you to join them in the Mortal Lands.

“He really doesn’t let up.” Feyre said and you laughed. 

“You should try training with Az… he’s even worse. But I’ve heard Mor is the worst.” You said and smiled, standing up. “You need anything in Hewn City today… you let me know.” You said and squeezed her shoulder. 

She nodded and gave you a small smile. You went down to the living room and waited for the boys to come down. Instead, you saw Azriel step out from the shadows, staring intently at you. You were very aware of the lack of clothes. It was much different than your leathers. 

You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, watching as he slowly stalked over to you. “You look… perfect.” He said, stopping so close to you that you had to look up. 

“Perfect for Hewn City or just perfect?” You asked, eyes wide as you stared into his own. 

“Both.” He rasped. 

You weren’t sure you could stand next to him this entire night if he was staring at you like that the whole time. Luckily he would slip in between the shadows to grab the Orb while you stayed with Cassian. You were also to be there as another distraction, similar to Feyre, but to serve as another female in the court. With you, hopefully they wouldn’t notice Az.

“I have a mission for you,” Rhys chipped in. He most definitely was in your mind. 

“Yes?” You asked, turning towards your High Lord. 

“I’m introducing Feyre and you… but Feyre has a different kind of job. Your job tonight is to show you are one of my warriors as well… so if anyone gets out of line… I’m going to give you permission to test out your new Siphon on them.” He said. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “You- you want me to hurt someone?” You asked. 

“You will have to do it eventually…” Rhys said. 

“They’ll deserve it.” Azriel said and you glanced towards him. 

“So I get to be your guard dog? A lackey?” You asked. “No… Rhys no. I was Amarantha’s Shadowsinger for too long. I- I can’t take orders… not like that. Not to hurt someone.” You said and shook his head. He always gave you a choice. He wouldn’t make you do it if you didn’t want to. 

“You can’t seriously think that someone in the Court of Nightmares is as innocent as the ones you hurt under her.” Azriel spoke up. It struck something in you. What did he know of the people you hurt… killed for her? Did he understand that at some point, you enjoyed it? When you were slowly torturing Illyrians that turned their backs on the Night Court, on their own families? Like that one male had done to you? Did he know that Amarantha made you stand and watch as she killed hundreds of children in the Winter Court? That you were the one to help the daemati slip in between the shadows? He didn’t know any of it. He couldn’t possibly understand.

You turned towards him, narrowing your eyes. “I will not be someone’s lackey. I will not hurt someone under another’s orders.” 

“Rhys is your High Lord. You will have to do it eventually.” He said. “What happens when someone threatens him? Or Feyre? Will you just stand by?” 

“That’s different.” You growled out. How could he expect you to just.. follow Rhys blindly. What if he asked you to harm someone that you didn’t want to hurt. What if he thought they were guilty when they weren’t? You trusted Rhys with your life. And he’s never led you wrong before. But that doesn’t mean you’ll follow him to no end. 

“Is it?” 

“I don’t take orders to harm others anymore.” You said firmly. 

“Some Illyrian you’re going to be…” He growled. 

Your heart dropped, looking at him for a moment. “What’s your problem?” You asked, narrowing your eyes. It was like all the progress you made these past two months went out the window. 

“Ready?” Feyre called from the stairs. You all turned towards her. You could smell the arousal that came from Rhys and you shoved him to the side. 

“Let’s go.” You ground out, watching as Mor and Cassian came down. The simmering rage that subsided these past few weeks was about to boil over. You took Mor’s hand, staying away from Azriel. Your skin was crawling at what he said. Some Illyrian… as if you can’t be a strong Illyrian and have your own principles. 

Mor glanced between the two of you and winnowed you to the Moonstone Palace atop Hewn City. 

Soon enough, you were waiting before the throne room with the rest of them. Rhys wanted to make a certain entrance. 

“Don’t be upset with him. Trips to Hewn City puts everyone on edge.” Rhys said in your mind. 

You glanced over to him and didn’t answer, but let the irritation show on your face. When he didn’t say anything, you shifted. “You’re my High Lord, I have to protect you.” You snapped back to him, still sensing him in your mind.  

“I’m your brother,” he said and you looked over to him. “By bond. Like Az and Cass are my brothers. You’re my sister. And you have no obligation to defend me if I don’t deserve it.” 

You looked at him for a few moments, frowning slightly. Flashes of Oran ran through your thoughts. He was your brother by bond… and he was dead. You couldn’t save him. What made you think you could save Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord you’ve ever heard of. But Rhys deserved you defending him. He’s given you a new life and you owed him everything. More than everything. 

“I’ll speak with you mind to mind if something happens. You tell me if you want to handle it or not.” He said, most likely seeing the same thing. You nodded to him as you watched the doors open. 

Once Rhys was seated with Feyre on his lap, Az disappeared to go get the Orb and you waited with Cassian. Your wings were stretched out as much as his, and your official Siphon was displayed on your left hand. It was a dark purple, your killing power swirling inside of it. Your shadows swirled around you, as if protecting you from the eyes of the people. You almost wished you were in ironclad armor like Cassian was. It would make you look a lot less like a side piece and more like the warrior Rhys wanted you to seem. Why did he have you dress like this when he also wanted you to be his warrior? You know it was for distraction, but you wondered if it would’ve caused too much uproar to have a female here in armor. 

You stood next to Rhys and Feyre once they got up. You heard what Keir said to Feyre: you’ll get what’s coming to you, whore. 

At that moment, Rhys asked you mind-to-mind to restrain Keir. You didn’t need another moment to think about it. Maybe it was Hewn City indeed putting you on edge. But you knew it was to protect Feyre. She was your friend. She saved you. And you wouldn’t let someone like Keir get away with calling her a whore. 

You put out your hand, your power swirling around him until he was on his knees. Your shadows did the rest and held his hands behind him. You might have instructed them to go just a little tighter than necessary. He wasn’t getting out but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t inflict a little pain. Did he not understand that Feyre was the one who saved all of you?

Rhys ordered Keir to apologize, and when he didn’t, he began breaking bones. You were happy to watch. Mor told you what he did to her. And insulting Feyre… you would’ve gladly broken his bones. But this was Rhys’s right. This was his mate he was defending. 

You saw Feyre sink closer to Azriel and Cassian while you kept Keir restrained. You let go, watching as he fell to the ground. 

You walked over to Az, Cass, and Mor. You took Mor’s hand, letting her winnow you and Cassian back to the House. 

You changed into your fighting leathers quickly, not wanting to stay in the dress much longer. You didn’t want to even think about Azriel coming to see you in your bedroom. In that dress. Especially after what he said to you. 

You needed to let off some steam, especially after seeing the Court of Nightmares. So much of it reminded you of Under the Mountain. It was much worse, but the memories it dragged up… you couldn’t just go to sleep. 

You ran a few laps around the ring, then started using the weights to do warm ups. As you worked, your thoughts drifted to your family in Valorworth, how your father used to beat you. How you were never good enough for him. You thought of Sirona and Igna, how you knew they would have protected Oran that final night when the fire roared through the camp. You eventually picked up a training sword, letting out all your thoughts into the wooden post. 

Your shadows told you that Azriel was in the stairwell before you heard his feet. The fact that you heard him made you aware that he wanted you to know he was there. “What?” You asked, striking the post with your training sword again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“I don’t know. Would a real Illyrian be okay after that?” You ground out, dropping your sword to the ground as you looked over to him. “Because I clearly am not. I guess you were right. I’m not a real Illyrian. I have emotions and principles and I won’t just blindly kill and hurt if it isn’t right.” You said, stalking over to him. “I won’t allow another high powered person to tell me to kill. To force me to tell them secrets. And I certainly won’t let anyone else let me feel smaller because of it.” You said, stopping not even a foot away from him. Your chests were almost touching. 

“Sounds like a real Illyrian to me.” He said and you pushed him back. His eyes widened and you clenched your fists. 

“I’m glad that you think so. Because I don’t care.” You did care. A lot. “Because your opinion means nothing to me.” It did. “Not when you insult me for standing up for myself.” That was true. 

“I-“

“No, you don’t get to talk. You don’t get to apologize. You doubted me.” You said, arms dropping to your sides. “You didn’t think that I would defend Rhys. Feyre. You- Do you have such little faith in me?” You asked. You failed your family before. You weren’t going to let it happen again. 

Azriel stayed silent, only walking over to you slowly. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I won’t justify what I said. I have some issues I clearly need to work out… but (Y/N)….” He tilted your head up. Tears were welling in your eyes. Why did his opinion mean so much to you? Why were you so frustrated? “You are the strongest female I know. And I have all the faith in the world in you. You’d go to any end to protect your family. To protect us…” he said, wiping away a stray tear. 

“I couldn’t protect them.” You whispered, your throat catching. 

“You did everything you could.” He replied, knowing exactly who you were talking about. You fell apart, a sob releasing as you cried into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, both of your shadows swirling to comfort you as well. He repeated himself, rubbing your back just under your wings as you cried. You couldn’t save your mother. You couldn’t save Sirona, Igna, or Oran. And the one person you thought would understand that doubted you today. If anything, you thought Azriel would understand that you didn’t want to keep doing the dirty work of a High Lord. Even if it was Rhys. 

Azriel promised himself to never doubt you again. He knew you would do whatever you could to keep them safe. Above all else, he knew that you would have more trouble forgiving yourself than you would anyone else. But Azriel would always be there to pick you back up, and put you back together.

A/N: Moving the story along...

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[tinycheesecakedetective]

...I'm baaaack.

I mean, I made one post about Swap!PV and then got distracted for months, so I wouldn't really call this a comeback. The moment I did come back though, apparently a bunch of lore just fell from the sky! Beast Yeast is upon us and all of a sudden I remember making an alt. version of this goober.

Turns out there were a few things I wasn't satisfied with in the first one, so here I am with my Swap!Vanilla 2.0 human edition! Even after all this time I still don't have a name for him. There's more white in his design, he has four horns instead of two and they form a crown on his head(that might be a bit hard to see), he also has a halo, his staff changed drastically, and he lost his soul gem. Instead he has two new smaller gems on his "ribcage".

This time around I tried to invoke more death themes, hence the ribcage, more wrappings, the halo, and the burn marks from, y'know, being re-baked and essentially reborn. The halo also makes for a nice double meaning, showing his somewhat good intentions behind the violence and spreading chaos gig.

Speaking of intentions, I maybe or maybe not have mentioned the only swaps happening in this proposed AU are between PV and WL and [possibly] Black Raisin and Red Velvet. I say maybe because if I checked, all the writing would disappear and I would have to start over again. However, I have wondered if those two swapped, how would PV handled the kingdoms? Would it be the same as DE or would the fates of each kingdom end up being swapped as well? It's something I definitely need to think on and develop.

Anyways, ramble break, here's a few doodles I did for Swap!PV!

Yeah, I had a lot of fun doing this. SO! A few changes not mentioned prior. Eyes! There are more eyes, especially on his coat. I took a bit of inspiration from a certain blue jester and his realm of nightmares. It also plays nicely with the whole "truth revealed" theme. Why not give the holder of the light of truth a bunch of opened eyes to represent his awakening? Also they looked good and his cape-coat was too plain without it.

Fun Head Canons: He's always floating, even when he's relaxing his feet never touch the floor. This PV still has a lily garden, it's just hidden away because while he still misses WL despite everything, he refuses to show weakness in front of others. His coat can take the shape of angel wings when angry and multiple eyes can appear when furious or in distress. Speaking of eyes, the ones on his coat glow. Those gems on him are pieces of moonstone that got corrupted after saving him.

As for the story behind him, I had to make a few adjustments. For one, DE and WL are two halves of the same whole, and the only reason either of them exists is thanks to precautions taken by Elder Faerie. Which means Pure Vanilla somehow has to get the stuff from Lily, who came to Beast Yeast without saying much of anything to anyone beforehand. Secondly, it means the Pure Vanilla Kingdom can't be the last kingdom explored. Pre Beast Yeast, the order in which the kingdoms would be explored would change, where White Lily's area would be explored first instead and the Vanilla Kingdom would be last. I'll address the second issue on a different post related to White Lily, but first things first. Fair warning, I wrote quite a bit.

~~~

After forming the seal, White Lily falls ill due to the immense amount of power used. She's not used to using so much of her soul gem, much less creating a seal to lock away ancient evils. Seeing her faltering state, Elder Faerie takes her away to his palace to help her recover. During her time in the palace, White Lily becomes distressed because not only does she feel like she's being a burden, but she won't be able to continue her research on how cookies were made. That was the whole point of coming here, after all. She left her friends and home behind to find the truth and ended up sick and bed ridden instead. The least she could do to redeem herself was to find the truth.

Racked with guilt and regret, she asks Elder Faerie for two favors; she wishes to know the secret behind cookies' creation, and she requests a pen and paper to write with. Before long, White Lily gains a messenger(Silverbell) who gives her books from the library to read, and a way to reach the one other person she understands. Someone who should've known where she was most of all. Pure Vanilla Cookie.

From there the two keep exchanging letters as White Lily brushes up on fae and beast lore. But eventually White Lily would learn about the Night of the Witches in a similar enough way to canon, i.e. finding the book about it. While she's recovered enough, she's still not well enough to go, and Elder Faerie isn't risking her well being and safety for a banquet. She's devastated that her questions may never be answered. If only she could go, if only there was some way to witness it while being in the Fairy Kingdom. And then... she realizes something. Perhaps there is a way for her to know after all...

White Lily, in the discomfort of her hospital bed, writes a letter to Pure Vanilla and asks him to go to the Witch's Banquet in her place. She knows that this is a huge ask, and he has every reason to refuse the favor, but it would mean the world to her if he did. Elder Faerie hears about this and is rightfully worried, telling her about the dangers, and any cookie that goes doesn't come back the same, if at all. He sends his own letter to Pure Vanilla to warn him of the dangers that lie ahead. A few more letters come in from WL apologizing for her request, saying it was out of line and inappropriate. "What a selfish request," she thinks, "after leaving him in the dark for so long, I have the nerve to ask him for anything at all?"

However, despite everything, he eventually decides to go. He knows that this means everything to her, and a part of Pure Vanilla secretly wondered about it as well. White Lily searched heaven and earth to find the truth so she could help others. Why would he keep avoiding it for so long? If he knew the truth as well, perhaps he could use these secrets to help the people of Earthbread alongside her. Maybe now he would finally understand White Lily more.

He wrote a letter addressed to both WL and EF about his final decision. White Lily is surprised at his decision, and is eternally grateful, while Elder Faerie is more resigned and concerned, knowing that he won't be able to change his mind but still wanting to help. He asks her to help write her next letter, and the two send a package to Pure Vanilla. Inside was another letter with the faint smell of lilies, as well as a map to the location of the banquet and a moonstone from Elder Faerie as a show of goodwill and for protection. He in turn sends what would become his final letter to her, unbeknownst to the two reading. He expresses his gratefulness to both WL and EF and declares his determination to find answers both for her and for the sake of everyone, stating, "Let me be your hope when you have none, and you my guiding light in shadows..."

Pure Vanilla proceeds to head to the Witch's Banquet, discovers the bitter truth, and in his attempts to save the other cookies falls into the ultimate dough. The fleeting scent of lilies is the last thing he grasps in his final moments, and the faint glow of a moonstone ensures his survival. His soul gem shatters under the weight of the truth and is scattered across the world, longing to be made whole once again.

~~~

Well! I think I have said everything I can say about him for now. I'm sure I can come up with more things later, but if you read this far, thanks for reading! I did not know I was going to say this much, so yeah. Next post is for White Lily specifically, I hope. I'm also taking suggestions for ideas about the other kingdoms and ways this could go, so if you have anything to suggest, let me know. Y'all have a good evening!

[miss-allsundays]

maybe it’s been said before but fuckkkk

i had known of course that just look my way had two versions, the og which was made by paranoid dj and the one sung by stolas’ VA, but i never really paid attention to the changes in lyrics??? well. until today.

(for reference, white background is the one from last december, the one in purple is the og version)

the first change i’ve noticed is the last two lines in both of these screenshots: in the og stols calls blitzø his ‘little impish plaything’, just like in truth seekers (fyi: the song was first dropped days before ozzie’s), whereas in the latest mv he uses a more affectionate petname- dearest- claiming also that he now “knows better” about the mistakes he made, about the nature of their arrangement (or at least what it’s based on), which is why he says he must let blitzø choose what he wants to do.

in the second change, there is a change in lyrics like before, but not just that; an entire part of the song (please bear with my lack of music-related vocabulary lmao) was taken off.

the main difference here is the broken heart≠ broken house line: it shows that, despite stolas surely caring for blitzø during s1, he doesn’t yet have strong romantic feelings for the imp, and instead he still views their relationship as something fun and carefree, a way to distract himself from the problems at home.

after everything that has happened, after s02e06, stolas has come to terms with being in love with blitzø, and he fears this rift between them will soon become permanent if he doesn’t act soon. he knows it’s not just about the full moon deal anymore, he’s putting his heart at stake.

the last difference is towards the end of the song; the pronoun changes (although i have no idea who stolas might be referring to when he says ‘she’ lmao), and now it’s clear to him that blitzø behaves the way he does because of trauma.

he knows he’s been hurt and left by those he cares about before, and he is aware that blitzø doesn’t believe his (stolas’) love to be genuine because he took advantage (even if subconsciously) of the fact that the imp needed the grimoire to make a living.

all in all, the song shows just how much stolas has grown. he understands and he cares for blitzø on a deeper level, which is why he doesn’t want to leave things as they are; or rather, stolas wants more out of their relationship than just sex, but he knows that if things stay as they are the two of them won’t work out.

he’s aware it might not end well, that blitzø might reject him and might not want to have anything to do with him aside from the deal. but he’s desperate, and he can’t stand this limbo in which their relationship has been thrown into, so he might as well try.

because the worst that could happen is being lonely and unfortunately he’s well accustomed to loneliness.

[imsadstuff]

Loving You Is Red - A Jeon Jungkook Fic, voice memo's that were never sent

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook's name was unheard on the Formula 1 paddock till he got a chance to drive a Mercedes car as a reserve driver. His 2020 starts looking brighter as he signs with Ferrari and meets you, his team mates little sister. So many cliched tropes, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, dating brother's best friend, and most importantly Jeon Jungkook looks smoking hot in a Ferrari! Genre: Angst, lots of it, happy ending Word Count: 3.5kAuthor's Note: So, this is a little extra instalment based on something my boyfriend did. He told me about the voice notes he left for me during our break up. he wanted to call and tell me a million things, but instead he'd leave a voice memo in his phone, pretending like they got to me. made me sob like a baby. so, this is a version of that for loving you is red, different voice notes Jungkook records for OC over the five years they're apart... I highly recommend you read the fic to have a better understanding of this. You can find the fic here

please don't be a ghost reader, likes, comments, reblogs, show your appreciation (given you like it 🫣)

Day after Abu Dhabi Race 2020

Jungkook was hungover and tired, the night had been kind of a blur after he won the race. He still couldn’t believe he was the 2020 F1 world champion, he still couldn’t believe you weren’t in the bed beside him, he still couldn’t believe he let you go.

Jungkook was drinking to feel numb, but the morning came and the emotions were starting to eat him up. His hand hovers over your number, Jungkook wants to apologise and wants you back, but he fights the urge as he locks his phone and throws it on the bed as he walks into the washroom.

Walking back with his towel low on his hips, he picks up his phone again, opening the voice recorder app instead. He needs to let out all the intense emotions he’s feeling.

“Hey, just got done crying in the shower. I feel so overwhelmed and anxious, so much is happening all at once. I can’t believe yesterday really happened” he sighs as the app continues recording as he sits down on the bed.

“I’m supposed to go out and celebrate my amazing season but I feel sick just thinking about yesterday. I feel so guilty, I don’t deserve this win” tears are staining his cheeks again, he takes a few deep breaths to compose himself.

“We weren’t supposed to end this way ___…” your name feels heavy in Jungkook’s heart as he presses stop on the recording. Flopping back in bed, he allows himself to cry a little more, processing everything is just too much right now. 

1st January 2021

“It’s been a month and a half since I last saw you, feels like forever” Jungkook struggles to stand still as he records another voice memo. Jungkook’s friends invited him out, hoping to distract him and celebrate the new years, but you were still on his mind.

“The new year started fifteen minutes ago, so my resolution for this year is to get over you, I’m going to get a tattoo to symbolise that too” he promises as he gulps down the whiskey, taking a good look at himself in the mirror. All he sees is a shitty, depressed version of himself and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“I have to start getting over you, I can’t keep feeling broken like this” his voice cracks as he struggles to keep the tears away, he’s been crying a lot more than usual lately.

“I hate myself some more just imagining you being miserable like this. I hope you’ve realised that you’re better off without me, that you deserve someone who prioritises you” he whispers the last part as he lets the tears win once again.

“Happy new year ___, I know this year can’t top the magic that was 2020, but I’ll try. I have to unless all this pain was for nothing” he chuckles dryly as he stops recording. It takes him a few minutes to compose himself, but he does, he’s getting shockingly good at pretending like he’s fine.

Race 2 2021

Jungkook’s frustrated as he shuts the door to his hotel room, it’s the second race of the season and the car is absolutely not supporting him. He can feel the anger simmer inside him as he struggles to fall asleep, he’s been struggling with this for a while now.

“I wish you were here right now. Bad day’s didn’t feel as bad with you” he says as he stares at the ceiling as his phone records beside him.

“You’d probably help me realise that the issues are out of my control, that I need to be a little patient. You’d run your fingers through my hair, in an attempt to calm me down” his hand rakes through his hair as the memory of you doing the same flashes in his mind.

“But most importantly, you’d put on the office because that’s your cure for everything” an actual giggle escapes his lips as he turns off the recording and opens the netflix app.

That night, he falls asleep as Michael Scott does something childish. 

Race 7 2021

“Phillip was on call with you while we were out for a photo shoot and I heard your voice for the first time in months” Jungkook sighs as he takes a seat on the kitchen counter, something you’d usually do.

“I was starting to feel better and then I heard your voice” he says as he eats straight from the pan.

“You were talking about the weather in Oxford, adjusting in your new apartment, your voice sounded the same. Soft as always” he stares into his empty, dark apartment as he wonders what your new apartment looks like.

“And all I’ve been thinking since then is how quickly one can go from knowing each intimate detail of someone’s life to being an absolute stranger to them. How life keeps moving on, even when your heart can’t” he’s starting to lose his appetite the more he thinks about it.

“But I’m glad you’re moving on, You deserve to” Jungkook chuckles as he says that, he means that, he truly does.

“In other news, my year has been an absolute shit show so far, Seven races in and no wins for me yet. Maybe I am just a one hit wonder like the press has been calling me” Jungkook doesn’t find any of this funny, it’s eating him up and the problems just keep piling on.

“I need to stop talking into the recording app and go out and talk to actual people” he thinks out loud as he jumps off the counter, packing away the leftovers.

Summer Break 2021

It’s early in the morning as Jungkook walks closer to the water, the Ibiza wind hitting him in the face and waking him up. He’s been vacationing for all of last week, he has been laughing, hanging out with friends, having a good time, he’s truly been feeling a lot better.

Laying on the beach, he soaks in the morning sunlight, taking a few deep breaths before he starts talking.

“Today would've been our one year anniversary” he sighs as he flops back into the sand, just wanting to lay down for a while. There’s silence for a while as the sentence feels heavy in his heart, just the waves crashing and his heart thumping.

“We wouldn’t be in Ibiza, we’d be closer to the mountains, somewhere cold and cozy” there’s a faint smile on his face as he imagines an alternate universe, where the two of you are still together.

“You would have given me some amazing, handmade gift, like a cute photo book that journals our first year together. I would’ve gotten you some jewellery, probably that bracelet you were eying in Brazil” he remembers the exact bracelet he’s talking about, it’s kind of pathetic that he does.

“But in this shitty version of the universe, you’re probably enjoying your time at university and I get to go to some other club tonight and make small talk with a woman I’m not even remotely interested in”  Jungkook is bitter and angry thinking about what could have been.

“This was for the best, right?” he asks himself as he picks up his phone, saving this voice note with today’s date.

Race 17 2021

“Phillip took me out to dinner because he’s worried about me, he thinks the car issues and lack of winning is starting to get to me” he sighs as he pours himself another drink.

“It is starting to get to me, I’m so scared and anxious about my future it keeps me up at night. Of course it’s already starting to get to me given the panic attack I had during the last strategy meeting” Jungkook looks back at the difficult few months, it’s truly been challenging.

“He told me about going through something similar last year, and to not let the disappointment and temporary failure swallow me” Jungkook sighs for what feels like the millionth time tonight as he downs his drink in one go.

“Phillip told me to talk to him or anyone about my fears, verbalising my fears to someone I trust might help me. Phillip said that he told you the same after your accident, how the fear of a dwindling future paralysed you” hearing your name at dinner was not something he expected, every few months he’d start to forget about you and one thing and the rush of memories come back to him.

“You’re the only one I can think of when it comes to talking about my fears,” Jungkook says as he slides down the sofa and sits on the floor.

“I wish I could call you ___” he shuts his eyes tight as your name rolls off his tongue. His phone keeps recording as he switches on the tv to dissociate for a while. 

Race 22 2021

“So, I didn’t win the championship. Wasn’t even in the top three but that’s the least of my concerns right now” there’s actual joy in Jungkook’s voice as he tussles around in his hotel bed, balancing his phone in his other hand.

“I just got to the episode when Jim interrupts Pam’s talking head to ask her out, and WOW!! The way the biggest smile appears on her face, and how her eyes light up, jesus fucking christ!” he squeals as he sits up in his bed, he might be a little too invested.

"Jim giving up on a promotion for love, peak of romance” Jungkook can’t help but smile, as he thinks back to the scene he’s seen multiple times now.

“After the crapfest of the year I’ve had, I wish I had the willpower to fight Ferrari last year. I can’t believe it’s been a year since we broke up” having spent all these important momentous dates with you, Jungkook can’t help but think back to them a year later.

“Sometimes I can’t believe just how easily you complied with me breaking us up, how you didn’t fight for us, at all” there’s bitterness in his heart about this, he knows it’s irrational but it’s there.

“Something you said sits heavy in my heart, ‘between the two of us, I’m the only one who’s had to give up on a dream without having a say in it’ and that’s just not true anymore” Jungkook remembers every word you said that evening exactly, he just can’t seem to forget them, or you.

“You may have given up on your dream of figure skating, but I gave up on my dream of a future with you”  

Phillip’s Birthday 2022

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Jungkook speaks into his phone as he watches the night sky from the balcony. It had been five months since he had recorded a voice memo instead of calling you, he was starting to forget you.

“I knew I was going to see you today, but, um, I still wasn’t prepared to see you” Jungkook left the party early, he’d had enough of you and your very charming, british boyfriend.

“Christian and you look like you stepped out a romcom, with the perfect met cute story” he laughs genuinely as he thinks back at your chatty boyfriend, so different from you.

“I’m kinda glad seeing how well you’re doing. University, perfect relationship, I really am glad” he repeats in attempts to comfort himself. Taking a good look in the mirror, he has the urge to tug off the sweater he hasn’t worn in ages. The sweater he wore just so you’d notice.

That night, he finally packs up all the things he associated with you, the sweaters, perfumes, diary, books you left around his apartment, you’ve moved on, so should he.

Amsterdam 2023

Jungkook rewatches Phillip’s instagram story for the tenth time today, and there’s a smile on his face everytime he does. It’s a video with a caption that reads, ‘Birthday girl returns to the rink’. A ten second clip of you skating on ice with the biggest smile on your face brings him an amount of joy he hasn’t felt in years.

As you twirl on ice, your hands come into focus and Jungkook notices the ring on your index finger. On the previous watches he might have been a little too distracted by the smile on your face to notice you wearing the birthday gift he gave you. He knows you don’t wear it all the time anymore,because it was missing on Phillip’s birthday less than a year ago.

“Happy 23rd ___” Jungkook talks into his phone as he takes in the prettiest sunset in Amsterdam.

“Today is the first time I’m recording a voice memo when I’m not feeling bitter and depressed” he chuckles out loud and shuts his eyes as the smile on his lips only grows.

“I spent your birthday exploring a vintage bookstore, I was celebrating you in spirit I guess” Jungkook was happy with how he spent his day, going through books for hours.

“I went out for lunch and just stumbled upon this place, it was a happy coincidence. I cancelled my plans for the day and spent it doing something you would love. And for the first time in a while, I thoroughly enjoyed doing something that wasn’t racing” all Jungkook had been doing the last year was work, work related activities and training, he had completely given up on his hobbies.

“You would love this place” Jungkook says wistfully as he looks at a bag full of books he just bought.

Race 2 2024

Jungkook looked at the discarded boxes in his new apartment, and he finally moved to a bigger and better place. The movers had unpacked and arranged everything for him, this place feels foreign and unfamiliar. Jungkook opens a few drawers and shelves before he finds the plates, the only set of plates he owns.

Jungkook presses the record button to record a voice memo, something he hasn’t done in the last six months.

“So, I moved to a bigger, better place. I can afford a ridiculously expensive apartment in Monaco because I’m a two time F1 world champion now!” he says with excitement as he eats the takeout food from the plates you bought him.

“But I still haven’t bought plates, the ones you bought are beautiful, with the blue specks of colours. My favourite colour, apparently” Jungkook says as he takes another bite of the mediocre chinese food.

“And the passcode to this place is still the same as my last one, mostly because I don’t want to remember a new set of numbers. Definitely not because I’m hoping for you to surprise me by breaking into my place” he laughs loudly as he thinks back to the time you let yourself in while he was live streaming, Jungkook really thought someone was breaking in and entering.

“I have a stupid logic for why I won last year's championship, other than the obvious skills and amazing car. I started wearing the chain you gave me, your good luck charm might be my good luck charm too” he smiles widely as his hands go up to touch the chain.

“If it really is a good luck charm, I’ll win this year too” Jungkook has high spirits for 2023, he has high spirits about his personal life too. He turns off the recording when a call notification from Ava pops on his phone.

Race 22 Abu Dhabi 2024

Jungkook is dazed and frustrated as he walks back to his hotel room instead of going back to the club, abandoning his girlfriend but he could care less right now. He hadn’t seen you in over two years, and a three minute conversation has left him feeling empty the same way it did four years ago.

Your voice is ringing in his head as he flops back in bed, how frustrated and bothered you were.

“I hate how broken you looked, how broken you sounded” he whispers another voice memo as he shuts his eyes.

“I didn’t just move on like we never happened, it still shocks me how just six months of us being together bothered me for two years. I DIDN’T MOVE ON FOR TWO FUCKING YEARS ___!” he shouts with frustration, wishing he had said this to you.

“I’VE MOVED ON” Jungkook shouts some more to convince himself.

There are some frustrated huffs until he stops recording, his mind is all over the place and your wide, tear filled eyes haunt him.

December 2024

“So, I broke up with Ava a week after I saw you,” Jungkook says, still sitting in his car. Something clicked after seeing you, he knew all this time that he didn’t really love Ava. You asking him if you did just made him realise that.

“I was using Ava as a distraction and I hate myself for it” he sighs, not really wanting to go back to his empty apartment.

“How can I not love Ava, she’s quite literally perfect for me but I can’t imagine a future with her, at all. Am I damaged? Not capable of loving someone again?” he wonders out loud, his frustration and disappointment growing as he thinks about the mess he is some more.

“Seeing you just reminded me of what loving someone felt like…I couldn’t even be completely honest and open with Ava” he whispers shamelessly.

“You told me about your very destructive tendencies in a relationship, how you cheated on Christian because you couldn’t bring yourself to break up with him, and it just made me realise I was doing the same to Ava” Jungkook talks to himself, he’s been doing a lot of this lately.

“I was hanging onto Ava because I desperately didn’t want to be by myself, I didn’t want to be alone. I hate being alone” he confesses and his eyes are getting a little misty as he thinks about his situation some more. 

That night Jungkook comes very close to actually calling you, he wants some warmth and comfort but he knows he doesn’t deserve any of that, especially from you.

Phillip and Maya’s wedding 2025

“I should have made some lame excuse about being busy or something, why do I do this to myself” Jungkook whines as he struggles with his tie, how does he not know how to tie a tie as a twenty five year old. He’s been pacing around in the hotel room, worried about ruining his chance of seeing you.

“I’m just going to apologise and shut this chapter, I need a fresh start and that can’t happen until I apologise to you and this is my only chance to because I need to be done with you” he frustratingly takes the tie off, wondering if he can rock the open button, casual look.

“I’m just worried that you’re not going to want to see me and then this whole evening is going to be awkward”  he says as he looks for a turtleneck, open shirt is just too casual.

“Is there a delusional idiot in me that thinks that tonight is going to lead to something more? Yes, but you could bring another charming date and shatter my unrealistic expectations” Jungkook is very frightened for a man who drives at 300 kmph every other weekend without any fear.

“I’m just going to ask for your help, this is nothing more than an ex asking another ex to help tie their tie” he chuckles dryly as he downs his drink, needing some liquid courage before he faces you. 

Summer Break 2025

“All I want to do is relax and eat tons of amazing food for the next week,” Jungkook says into his phone as he closes the door to his car.

“Then that’s what we’re going to do, but can you at least tell me where we’re going?” your voice booms on speaker and Jungkook smiles shyly, knowing the suspense is tormenting you. It has been a few weeks since Phillip’s wedding, and since the night he realised something, it’s always been you. It will always be you.

“Pack warm, that’s all I’m going to say right now” he giggles as you grumble on the other side.

“Kook, all my winter clothes are packed up, can you come over and help me get those boxes” you say and he laughs sarcastically.

“Is this just a ploy to get me to come over, if yes you have very bad game ___” he says and you’re the one laughing this time.

“You’re replaceable by a ladder Jeon, don’t get to cocky-” you’re interrupted by your apartment bell ringing.

“Too bad, I’m already here” he says as he’s still on call, you’re a little too elated as you swing the door open.

“Hey-” he’s shut up by your warm lips tugging on his as your arms come around him. Jungkook loses his balance for just a second before he holds you close and deepens the kiss. Jungkook doesn’t have to leave voice memos on his phone anymore, he doesn’t have to pretend to leave you messages. He’s glad he gets to call you, he’s glad he gets to hold you, he’s glad he’s given a second chance with you. 

Another Author's Note: Still working on an epilogue for this, comment under to be added to the taglist if you still aren't on it!!

Tag List: @blancflms @nadzzzblog @kookiewhtaee @jksoftiitii @oiseul @elisaaru @coralmusicblaze @tearyjjeonn @moonchild1 @jungkooksseuphoria @cookysstuff @ohyeahjk @bobakkoo @whoa-jo @kooromiwrld @littlelandalp @marvelover3000 (the last one didn't ask to be added to the taglist but i'm adding them anyway :))

[xmoonlitxdreamx]

OW2 Junkrat & Roadhog Relationship (part 4)

Part 1: [click] Part 2: [click] Part 3: [click] Part 5: [click]

Helloooo I'm here with another long post lol. I'll be looking at Junkrat's OW2 profile in this post! I got kind of distracted with my goal because I also wanted to compare the current profile to his old OW1 profile, so the goals of this post are:

to point out any changes made to Junkrat's OW2 profile compared to his OW1 profile, and the implications of those changes

to summarize how Junkrat and Roadhog's relationship is characterized in Junkrat's current OW2 profile (including any information carried over from his OW1 profile)

Since I'm doing like two things at once in this post, my points kind of jump around a bit LOL;; hopefully it's still interesting to read though. I also put links to both the OW1 and the OW2 profile under the cut.

Anyway, feel free to read if you're interested! A summary is at the end of the post as usual for anyone who doesn't want to read my individual bullet points. ^^

---

OW1 profile: archived here, sourced from 9/17/2022 (soon before OW2 was released; though I also checked the 2016 profile and it was exactly the same)

OW2 profile: referenced the current version on 7/4/2024 for this post, available here

OW1: “Junkrat is an explosives-obsessed freak who lives to cause chaos and destruction.”

OW2: “Junrkat is an explosives-obsessed demolitionist who lives to cause chaos and destruction. […] Growing up in the irradiated wasteland surrounding Junkertown, Junkrat is an unhinged, explosives-obsessed oddity.”

Softening of Junkrat’s characterization in OW2 (he’s no longer a called freak, but an oddity).

Also refers to him as a demolitionist (instead of a freak), emphasizing a scientist/mechanic angle to his character.

The demolitionist bit is on his OW1 profile, but as a bullet point under "occupation"; I actually missed this my first time reading it lol my bad

Removes some agency from Junkrat’s actions in the OW2 description (implicitly blaming his unhinged personality on growing up in irradiated Australia).

The “Junker” section on OW2 profile is exactly the same as paragraphs from his OW1 profile. (No analysis here because there’s nothing about Junkrat and Roadhog’s relationship)

First half of the "Wanted Criminal" section in the OW2 profile is exactly the same as his OW1 profile. The new elements of his profile start at the line “After a string of offenses…”

OW2: “After a string of offenses against the Junker Queen, Junkrat and Roadhog were officially exiled from Junkertown.” (no parallel section in OW1 profile)

This is probably in reference to the OW1 cinematic The Plan, where Junkrat and Roadhog are shown to be thrown out of Junkertown after causing Junker Queen trouble:

Junkrat: “Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do. What was it you think that got us the boot?  Stealing the queen’s cash? Blowing up her summer shack? The beat down at the bar? Whatever it was, you really ticked off the big boss this time. I don't think they're gonna let us back in.”

Tbh this kind of conflicts with the plot of A Friendly Rivalry, where it looks like Junker Queen intended to execute them for a completely different set of offenses against her rather than exile them.

OW1: “Now, with Roadhog in tow, Junkrat has left the Outback, and embarked upon an international crime spree leaving nothing but havoc and bedlam in his wake.”

OW2: “They turned their sights beyond the Outback to embark upon an international crime spree, leaving nothing but havoc and bedlam in their wake.”

OW2 description has been changed slightly to include Roadhog more explicitly; the two of them both decided to leave Junkertown together, and they wreak havoc during their crime spree together (instead of the implication in OW1 that Junkrat did the crime spree primarily on his own with Roadhog sidelined).

OW2: “’No job too big, no score too small.’” (no parallel section in OW1 profile)

I think this is the originator of this phrase in OW2, seems to be intended as Junkrat and Roadhog’s tagline; it’s possible it was added specifically for OW2? Unless I’m misremembering. Feel free to correct me if this phrase is used in reference to Junkrat and Roadhog somewhere else too.

As I mentioned in my Roadhog voiceline post, Roadhog references this tagline in one of his voice lines (I think it was a summer games voice line or something)… I’m not sure which came first.

Regardless it’s interesting that Roadhog references something specifically from Junkrat’s OW2 profile. Again I think this reiterates that Roadhog is at least aware of how Junkrat conceptualizes them as partners in crime.

OW2: “Though they racked up a considerable bounty on their heads, they’ve been able to evade capture through the very same methods they’ve used to acquire such a bounty: mainly those involving loads and loads of bombs.” (No parallel section in OW1 profile)

Uses “they” (aka Junkrat and Roadhog) as the subjects/agents of the sentences, emphasizing that Junkrat and Roadhog do everything together.

Junkrat and Roadhog’s schemes primarily utilize bombs, suggesting Junkrat is the main person in charge of their crime spree plans (since Roadhog’s arsenal doesn’t include bombs iirc)

This sentence also kind of implies that even though they get into a lot of trouble because of Junkrat, Junkrat is also the one with the resourcefulness allowing them to evade that trouble. (? weird sentence)

Other Junkrat and Roadhog relationship notes (based on elements found in both the OW1 and OW2 profiles):

“…[Junkrat] was nonetheless pursued by bounty hunters, gangs, and opportunists wherever he went, until he made a deal with the Junker enforcer Roadhog, who grudgingly agreed to be his personal bodyguard in exchange for a fifty-fifty share of the spoils.”

Junkrat was in danger because of his treasure and partnered up with Roadhog primarily for protection against this danger.

This is reiterated in the OW1 comic Wasted Land, where Junkrat is getting mugged by some of Junker Queen’s men and asks Roadhog to save him for a share of his treasure.

The notion of Junkrat being pursued by bounty hunters/etc is somewhat contradicted in the OW2 short story A Friendly Rivalry, where Junkertown citizens seem unimpressed with Junkrat’s not-so-secret treasure. Junker Queen even says “No one cares about your treasure.”

Roadhog’s primary motivation indicated here for having partnered with Junkrat is the 50% share of Junkrat’s treasure that he’ll get for being his body guard (“grudgingly agreed” = he doesn’t want to partner with Junkrat but he does want treasure)

Iirc this is slightly contested in OW1’s Wasted Land where Roadhog internally remarks “The world deserves him. Deserves both of us” or something, implying he has other philosophical reasons for choosing to be Junkrat’s bodyguard.

This profile leans slightly in Junkrat’s perspective, hence why Roadhog’s internal motivation from Wasted Land would not be revealed here. I'll talk about it in another post, but Roadhog's profile does slightly imply that he has reasons other than Junkrat's treasure for teaming up with Junkrat; so this could just mean that Junkrat is unaware of Roadhog's real reasons for partnering with him.

Summary

Junkrat's OW2 profile does not characterize Junkrat as harshly as his OW1 profile (they don't call him a freak anymore). More blame is placed on Junkrat's life in irradiated Australia as the cause for his erratic behavior. He also has a slightly scientific angle added to his character. The OW2 profile references events from The Plan, but does not reference events from A Friendly Rivalry. Roadhog is specifically described as being hired as Junkrat's "personal bodyguard"--the profile suggests that Roadhog's main motivation for being Junkrat's bodyguard is so he can have a share of Junkrat's treasure. Junkrat's desire for protection is also indicated as his main motivator for initially partnering with Roadhog.

Some pronoun usage in the OW2 profile slightly emphasizes Junkrat and Roadhog's status as a duo compared to the OW1 profile. The catchphrase "no job too big, no score to small" is introduced here, which Roadhog also references in one of his voice lines. The two of them are described as being able to evade authorities using "loads and loads of bombs," suggesting Junkrat is the one primarily in charge of the duo's plans. This also suggests that Junkrat has some success in keeping the two of them from getting caught.

This profile raises some lore inconsistencies when compared with events described in A Friendly Rivalry--the profile describes Junkrat as someone constantly pursued by bounty hunters/etc for his treasure, while A Friendly Rivalry suggests that no one in Junkertown actually cares about Junkrat's treasure (until they learn what it is). It is unclear which of these suggestions should be taken as canon.

----

Anyway!!! That’s that. I’ll make a separate post about Roadhog’s OW2 profile just to keep things organized. (I’ve already written it; I’ll post it in a little bit... Tbh Roadhog’s profile is a little more interesting than Junkrat’s.) But yeah, thanks again for reading!

Part 1: [click] Part 2: [click] Part 3: [click] Part 5: [click]

[manonamora-if]

May Check-In

This is a bit late, because I've been debugging the past two days.

So I bought Tropico 6 during the last Steam sale. If you haven't seen me posting for a while, blame by wish to be a benevolent dictator of a fake Caribbean island.

Onto the usual index:

Recap of last month’s progress

IF Events in the Next Month (I won't do this anymore)

Plan for the next month

Still long post under the break. If you want a mini version, head on over to itch.io as usual!

April Progress

From last month, what did we do:

Play more games: ✅

I started so good, finishing reviewing the SeedComp! entries, as well as the Revival Jam and had started on the Spring Thing... then I got distracted by the TALJ and Tropico... I also need to update @manonamora-if-reviews at some point... It's at least 100 reviews behind.

Finish the Code of Ch5✅ of Harcourt and edit the Ending Chapter ✅

YES! IT IS DONE! I have finally fixed those godamn doors in the maze that were giving me so much trouble. Also MelS has gotten my edits on all the Chapters/files (and was given extra comments because I also fixed some code in previous chapters). He is hard at work dying editing the missing text.

The only thing left for me is to: - add the maze visuals (map, book/letter formatting) - settle on a design for the final maze puzzle (need to so some research) - include the missing chapter/text (waiting for MelS)

Finish fixing The Roads Not Taken. Or An Eggcellent Preparation. Maybe the other parser too (it just needs a smidge of polish).

LOL... This is the shameful failure that is following me around, ringing that darn bell.

Should i give up on it? Maybe one day...

Complete the TALJ entry. ✅

I have been battling this one the whole morning trying to fix so many bugs. But I'm pretty happy about it. For one: it was actually tested by someone (not like last year). For two: it's actually an easy parser (like you can't lose!).

And the idea had been ringing in my head for so long, I had the prompt submitted to last SeedComp!.

But yeah, this had been happening for a while already. And even though it doesn't have the level of polish I had hopped (future me problem with updates), it is probably one of the better one I've made.

Anyway, play Lysidice and the Minotaur (I'll have an official post tomorrow). (and you can vote for it if you want...)

What else happened this month????

Well, the SeedComp! ended, so I had to deal with all the admin, and making the cool stickers for the different entries. That took quite a bit of time... but worth it! Some really cool entries this year, yet again!

Well, this is more of it's been done last month but released this month: Les lettres du Docteur Jeangille has been translated into English, for the Spring Thing (in the Main Garden, if you feel like voting for games). You can find the post there!

I've been also drafting some post-mortems, one for Jeangille and one for Lysidice. They should come out during the month, at some point.

:/ I have to update my website again now...

I wanted to do an entry in the Dialogue Jam, but my idea didn't pan out on time (too buggy for release). Or eer... cough cough... I had enough will power not to do it? Anyway, also I made the Really Bad IF Jam, which starts today!

What’s happening in May?

As mentioned at the start, I'm dropping this section from my check-in. First, it's buried deep in a wall of text, so no visibility (it should have been a separate post, oh well). If people actually check the events out, I'm sure it would be a miracle.

But mainly... a zine has popped up recently, specifically about IF called What's New in IF? (@if-whats-new), releasing weekly. Since it includes events, like the jams/comps/conferences I used to mention here (and it looks more sleek than a Tumblr post), I'll just leave them do all that hard work instead 😅

So yea... as long as the zine is happening, I'm out 😅 Well, I'll drop them links to my jams and stuff I see, because they seem to be looking for help in finding stuff.

The PLANtm for May

I'm playing Tropico, so I'm getting and will probably going to get less stuff done. Which is not a bad think. Breaks are important. Will I go on a break this month?

Probably should...

But if I don't, where's what I hope to do:

Play more games: On my juicy list I have: the Spring Thing, the newly released Dialogue Jam and TALJ, the Locus Jam and Really BAD IF is happening this month too (so more gameses!), and a few non-comp releases I've had my eye on.

Code Chapter 6/Endings: I need to wait for MelS for this, since he's editing my comments. I'll prob look for visuals for the puzzle in the meantime.

Fixing an older games. Instead of new, do something old.

Write the next Chapter/Scene of a WIP, because it would be good to actually do that. And make some actual progress at seeing stuff being done. (I want to write some Razac snippets....)

Let's have a boring month!

~

The 2024 To-Do List:

LOL, I've only done the website! :D

The hopefully maybe easy to handle To-Do:

fix the bugs in EDOC + overall the French version to match (waiting for Adventuron to get the French language)

fix the bugs of TRNT + find a way to add the missing pieces (giving up on the translation)

fixing the interface of LPM and the popups + check animal interactions

figure out the One-Button JavaScrip/jQuery issue...

edit the loading screens of the completed tiny games to include the program/format logo at least.

The 'Need a Bunch of Content to update but it's planned!' To-Do:

Update my website (bunch new title - also I don't think the logo clicky thing work...) + redo my itch page

Finish TTATEH (MelS dependent)

Finish Exquisite Cadaver (half-way mark by this summer - manif)

Finish P-Rix - Space Trucker (main path at least)

Update CRWL (it's been almost two years... I'm ashamed)

The Unlikely But it Would be Dope To-Do

Finish The Dinner as it was planned (and translate)

Finish In the Blink of an Eye as it was planned (and retranslate)

Finish The Rye in the Dark City

Fixing TTTT (at least fixing, maybe try adding some storylets)

And finally The 'It's impossible, but one can wish' TO-DO:

Remaster SPS IH (if I managed to start this after completing the rest... I'm going to eat a whole sheet cake).

Start the IFComp project (2025? Might end up being a ST?)

[mdhwrites]

Idk if you talked about this before but what's your thoughts on the Blight parents' relationship? Asking this mainly because I saw a long post saying all of Alador's actions were forced by Odalia (even the scene of telling Amity to drop Willow) and the only reason he neglected the kids was because he worked to protect them hence he wasn't abusive. Imo he and Odalia got along fine in their debut so when the "odalia abused alador" reveal dropped it was surprising for me. Since they were also hexside friends, I wonder if the show would've explored that aspect of their relationship before it went downhill (it would've been cool as Odalia as a character feels wasted)

I absolutely have talked about this before, in part because between S1 and 2, the Blight Family was actually one of the most interesting parts about the show for me. They were literally the first blog I wrote about TOH because I thought people treated them unfairly, especially Odalia, because High Society Characters are different from ones we normally sympathize with. If you want to see that version of the Blights, where they're both neglectful and making mistakes but also genuinely meaning well by their kids, I have a story called The Power of Love that explores a LOT of TOH's post S1 potential but especially Amity and her family alongside with making Boscha a real character. I've also just talked about them being shit in the past but I really want to focus on this in this blog: They're both terrible people. Everyone likes to focus on the fact that Odalia is a greedy capitalist but an honest story would recognize that Alador is a mad scientist. That Odalia would sell her children to get ahead while Alador would experiment on them if allowed or if he saw it as useful to his research. He makes robots though, so that's never in question. Amity ONLY gets Alador's attention... By besting his own creation. He watches that whole fight in Escaping Expulsion like he's studying it and liking the results. So yeah, he notices Amity is strong and is able to use that against Odalia to make her not be the dumbest form of villain, so they can claim to have some sort of principles... But how much do you really think that matters to him?

His statement when Luz tries to end the fight by saying the investors get it is that she has a point. Not that they are maybe going too far or that the abomiton's job of destruction is bad but just that the point has been made. Because that's what matters to him. After all, they specifically know that this creature is going to kill Luz. This isn't an interesting experiment for Alador. He doesn't care. He'd rather get this over with so he can go back to his lab.

Even Clouds on the Horizon actually reinforces this. Yes, he complains about not having a weekend off in five years... But that's FIVE. FUCKING. YEARS. There's a point where you know... Maybe he should have complained about this? Questioned anything. But that raises the question of: Before this... What the fuck else was he doing with his time? Both Escaping Expulsion and Reaching Out have him entirely in mad scientist mode where you might distract him for a moment but he will just keep working and ignore everything around him. That's part of WHY he likes Odalia. Odalia loves to talk. Loves to be social. Loves to remove the part he doesn't care about and easily gets distracted during. Even in Clouds on the Horizon, he doesn't explicitly state that his complaint is a lack of time with his kids. He's finally feeling it now because, if we're generous, Amity opened his eyes but... That implies he's a good person. That he just needed a reminder of who he was deep down, just like his daughter did (because Amity frankly has similar issues to this). But... if he were a good person, jokes like 'Immediate execution" would be done instead by having imply that the punishment is very light, revealing that his true nature, when he's not thinking, is kind. But it's not. It's more extreme than expulsion and goes all the way to murder. And why shouldn't it? He still had to have had this talk with Odalia. Agreed with the outcome. Learned the lines. If he was mad about it, he doesn't need to be at that meeting. He could be home working. This was instead important enough to him to get him out of the house. Same goes with dismissing Willow. He took time out of his day for that and didn't keep on script. Him cutting Amity off is not his job there unless he wants it to be. He defers power to Odalia though because she is better than him at this stuff. She is comfortable interacting with other people in ways he is not and their relationship is pretty much divided by those lines. It's very businesslike but neither person actually gives a fuck about people so why shouldn't it be more about collaborating strengths than it is anything emotional? And here's the thing: I'm just going by what the show shows us. Because if we claim Odalia made Alador do everything he does in the show... Who is Alador? We never get a real glimpse of that. If we even say the abomatons aren't something he wants, then he isn't an inventor. The best we have is he'd like to be a layabout and that doesn't technically include his kids. He could just be lazy then and do whatever he wants because that's what he already did... But at least he was making something.

The closest we have to anything else is Amity claiming that he used to spend time with his kids. We have literally no evidence of this, his personality doesn't support the claim, he didn't give a shit about Amity's well being until she challenged his creations as he was entirely on board with destroying social life, twice, so why should we think he was some paragon? Why should we believe Amity who doesn't even go on to ask about his fate once they're back in the Isles and she sees her siblings? Who seemed to care MUCH about her mother's opinion for Reaching Out rather than literally ever bringing up her dad?

It's revisionist in a way that tries to rewrite their dynamic into something more complex than it was. To try and make there be a point to Alador when him having control of the Abomatons doesn't even go anywhere because they still get shot down and still have to leave Alador behind to fight the damn things while they go rescue Luz. Cut out literally the entirety of Clouds on the Horizon and make it the Hexide kids rushing to the Day of Unity instead and you have a different force that can hold back the abomatons while Amity and co go off to help Luz. Worse yet, replace abomatons with "Elite EC Coven Scouts" and you effectively get the same result making Alador and Odalia even more pointless besides a very minor road bump on Amity's character arc all things said and done with how easy her rebellion against them is. They have no point in the story so people are going to scramble for some deeper meaning. Some reason they should exist by having them tackle something as provocative as domestic abuse or the like. But it doesn't. Instead, it's just inconsistent, wasteful writing that has no point to exist when the main character it should be affecting, Amity, is barely a part of any of it. She has some of the least screentime of any character in Escaping Expulsion. She isn't a part of her dad's transformation in Clouds except in an abstract way where Alador just wanting to spend more time video gaming would have been as meaningful with how shit their relationship is at the end of Reaching Out because they wouldn't even let us have a hug in that episode between the two because TOH refuses to just let a plotline end simply even when it involves extremely minor characters. And Reaching Out is the closest we come. An episode where Alador still rigs an entire abomaton to make sure Amity goes to the tryouts without knowing it's Odalia's dream not hers. And if Odalia really was the reason he did EVERYTHING... Shouldn't he know her better than that? Almost like maybe he sees the EC as a good future for Amity too because that's success and he clearly cares about success to some extent. Otherwise, he wouldn't have married a woman as greedy as Odalia. And even if in real life, I've watched a relationship turn toxic the minute they got married, nothing about either character, from their Hexide days, to a decade ago, to now, seems all that different from each other. They just now have kids they neglect or use as free labor. And yes, it's really that simple, no matter how much that fucking blows. And a final note actually: This is my interpretation. We get such little time with Alador and Odalia that statements like "This is why he likes her" are going to be somewhat subjective by how you interpret their relationship. If you think it's as shallow as Alador just found her hot and married her because of that and has been trapped for 16+ years... Well, A: why are you trying to paint him as sympathetic when you seem to not like him? but B: why hasn't her mistreatment been even longer? More over the top? We're just missing basic answers to these characters because they're so bog standard (even if Odalia feels like she comes from the 80s or 90s cartoons more than literally anything I grew up with) that I have to stretch and use literally every scrap of screentime we get with these characters because not only do they get so little of it, their family/kids reflect such little about themselves because none of the elements cohere into something whole. They're bad and really only stand out for that fact versus other one off villains because, well, they're related to Amity. But they're also dealt with just as easily as any villain of the week the show does so they have this weird contrast between Amity's importance and the importance the show actually gives them. Which again: Sucks.

[fraeuleintaka]

Investigations 1 Official Anthology Manga - Volume 1

This is the 72nd post in the Ace Attorney Investigations Collection Countdown: 9 days left until release!

Today's topic: the Investigations 1 Official Anthology Manga (Volume 1)!

I've talked about the official Investigations manga in a previous countdown post but that's not the only manga release accompanying the Investigations games. There are also several anthology mangas featuring Miles and Co.! Unlike the manga series these don't tell separate stories with different cases than the games but jump off the games' events and show some shenanigans the characters get up to. Since there are several volumes I'm going to label them by number in my posts even though they're not in any way consecutive but they don't have any special titles to differentiate them by either.

The "first" one (cover shown above) has its short stories in the order of how the cases are played in the game (so starting from I1-1 and going to I1-5). All of its stories take place during the cases (or shortly afterwards) and all use concrete moments in the game, specific interactions or events happening inbetween that we didn't get to see, to build a narrative around. Most of them are simply funny but there are also some rather serious and emotional ones. The stories vary greatly by length, some are only a page long and others much longer. The artists for each story also vary but at least in this case the artstyle differences aren't too extreme. Of course, just like the manga series, the anthology mangas aren't canon to the games. However, apart from some joke stories that are clearly just exaggerations for humour the characters are written pretty faithfully to the games. I can easily see a lot of the shown interactions happen in the games and will definitely take them as canon as far as they don't contradict anything!

Sadly, all of the anthology mangas are only available in Japanese and out of print so extremely hard to get. It took me a lot of effort and luck to be able to acquire them and call all of them my own. And it was so worth it! The stories are so well made, hilarious, adorable, everything! They add even more to the characters' personalities and relationships with each other. So much fun to read and to just look at the panels, too! They also have some gorgeous art!

All these artworks are used as "covers" for the different story sections in the manga and they have these beautiful coloured versions at the beginning! Love them! They also have character relationship charts at the beginning for each section similar to what the Complete Guide had (without colour though).

I plan to talk more in detail about each different comic that's part of these anthologies at a later date as that would be far too much for one single post but I do want to highlight some of my favourite parts and my favourite individual (out of context) panels. So much good stuff!

Gumshoe, the professional stalker OR how the partner mechanic would actually look like

The Prosecutor Championship (with friendly help from the janitor)

When Gumshoe just gives him a prompt and Miles goes into an entire fanboy rant about the Steel Samurai

How Miles and Kay really escaped the hideout

Exchanging cards gone wrong OR Shi-Long just wants to be cool but it isn't always easy

How Manfred thinks he comes across VS how he actually comes across

When Miles gets a little distracted from the "perfect" case

Apparently Shi-Long also wears his sunglasses indoors just to make a cool entrance and then immediately takes them off (Miles did not like his cool entrance)

Shi-Long really wants to give Miles a birthday gift, but sadly it's not his birthday (he still accepts the gift though because it's tea)

Miles & Shi-Long just chilling and drinking tea together (I love the way Shi-Long sits on the couch!)

And finally, probably my absolute favourite one, Miles & Shi-Long arguing way too seriously about tea! Apparently Miles finally found someone who's as passionate about tea as he is.

[lindyloosims]

OC Questions Tag

I was tagged by @stargazer-sims, thank you.

I'm going to choose Dexter William Maloney and Evelyn Dawn Robertson, my OC's from my Love Drunk universe. I completed their story in TS3 and I started to do TS4 version but different and I got distracted (as I do) then I did Washed Ashore, which was an alternate universe story that I really need to finish. Anyway I did both of them because they are twin souls.

__________

NAME: Dexter William Maloney

NICKNAME: Dexy or Pretty Boy by his Lainie, Dex by everyone else.

GENDER: Male

STAR SIGN: Capricorn

HEIGHT: 5ft 11in

ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Irish/White

FAVOURITE FRUIT: Pineapple

FAVOURITE SEASON: Summer

FAVOURITE FLOWER: Tulips, because they're his mum's favourite.

FAVOURITE SCENT: Lainie's perfume, Kylie Minogue: Darling

COFFEE, TEA, or HOT CHOCOLATE: Coffee, he has a machine that his best friend Drew made for him and he likes to experiment with flavour. His favourite is caramel syrup in his coffee.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: He suffers from headaches now and again after an accident so it can vary. When it's really bad, he's nigh on an insomniac but Lainie forces him to drink chamomile tea before bed as she knows all about sleep problems.

DOGS or CATS: Dogs, he had one as a boy called Rosco and he was a Rhodesian Ridgeback. He has two dogs with Lainie, Trixie the yellow Labrador and Kizzy the Husky.

DREAM TRIP: Hawaii with Lainie, a lazy beach holiday walking by the ocean and collecting seashells. No kids, just him and his Freckles!

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: He's rarely ever cold, so I'd say one?

RANDOM FACT: Out of all of the numerous tattoos he has, only one is sentimental and that is his daughter Keira's name on his wrist in Irish Gaelic. The rest were a rebellion when his father suddenly passed away of a heart attack when Dexter was 24 years old.

__________

NAME: Evelyn Dawn Robertson Maloney

NICKNAME: She prefers Lainie and hates her name, Dexter calls her Freckles and her mother calls her Evie. Her father calls her monkey but that's a whole other story!

GENDER: Female

STAR SIGN: Leo

HEIGHT: 5ft 3in

ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Irish/White

FAVOURITE FRUIT: Watermelon

FAVOURITE SEASON: Autumn for Halloween

FAVOURITE FLOWER: Roses

FAVOURITE SCENT: Dexter, he doesn't wear any scent it's just his natural aroma and it makes her feel giddy.

COFFEE, TEA, or HOT CHOCOLATE: Tea, all kinds but her favourite is plain old green tea, or cat's piss as Dex calls it.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: She has bouts of insomnia so knows all the tricks for trying to get sleepy, however they rarely work with her. She suffers from severe anxiety.

DOGS or CATS: Dogs, she's not a great fan of cats but she did have one when she was a teenager but her older sister left the back gate open and she never saw little Socks again. She had two Labradors growing up, her favourite dog breed. She and Dex have a Labrador named Trixie and a Husky named Kizzy, they pretended to adopt them for the kids, but really they were for them.

DREAM TRIP: Anywhere with Dexy, although she would love to go to New Orleans during Mardi Gras, visit the cemeteries and wander around the French Quarter. She's a fan of The Originals and that's where her love for New Orleans began.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: It depends, some nights it can be just the duvet, other nights it could be two extra blankets. She's inconsistent.

RANDOM FACT: She is a secret fan of The Prodigy, it's something only Dex and her best friend Roxy know about. They're not her usual taste of music but for some reason she gets so much housework done with their tunes in her ears.

—————

I tag @zosa95, @simmersofia, @babolat85, @silverspringsimmer, @akitasimblr and anyone else who would like to do it, feel free to ignore if you don't.

[sortanonymous]

Last-Minute NASCAR Cup Playoff Predictions (No visual grid, sorry)

Round of 16 Exits:

Harrison Burton (I'm sorry, but... duh!)

Daniel Suárez (At least my second-favorite Trackhouse driver got in)

Austin Cindric (Penske playoff magic isn't unlimited)

Joey Logano (Please tell me reality sets in for both the Steelers of NASCAR and football this fall!)

Round of 12 Exits:

Alex Bowman (Making it this far would honestly be miraculous considering the dumb off-field distractions)

Martin Truex Jr. (I don't even really care about the title. Just please racing gods, let this legend go out with just one more win after the hell you've put him through these past 14 months!)

Chase Briscoe (SHR's final ride has almost certainly already peaked, but I still can't wait to see Briscoe in the 19 - as long as James Small doesn't waste his prime like he wasted MTJ's twilight)

Ty Gibbs (This last cut was tough, but I think his sneakily solid sophomore season goes no further, unless he can come close to a win anyway.)

Round of 8 Exits:

Denny Hamlin (I was initially on the fence between "It's his time" and "He'll choke again", but that brutal penalty could really be the dagger by this round)

Chase Elliott (Consistency should yield championships, but it unfortunately doesn't in modern NASCAR, so he may fall behind the other win-worthy drivers.)

Brad Keselowski (Maybe I'm high-balling him, but I think Brad has enough recent playoff energy left in him to carry RFK this far, but not any farther.)

Ryan Blaney (VERY close between him and Byron, but while Blaney is coming into these playoffs better than his championship year, I just get the feeling Hendrick will turn it up again and get Byron back to Phoenix. I saw someone call this the modern version of Jummie and Knaus's formula for the Chase, and I think they've got a point.)

Championship 4 and why they could win:

Kyle Larson - Even if this isn't his best season, it feels like a true banner year for Larson as a racecar driver, and with him being just one point away from the Regular Season title even after getting washed away from the most valuable race of the year, he could have a good case to win his second Bill France Cup. (Heck, it looked like he would seal it last year off another clutch pit stop, but unlike in '21, he wouldn't hold on during the final restart.)

William Byron - As said earlier, Byron may be catching onto the same formula the 48 team made a dynasty out of, and even if his championship-caliber season last year didn't end on a high note, his past success at Phoenix could be enough to put the legendary 24 car in championship lane for the first time in 23 years.

Tyler Reddick - Moving onto my two real championship contenders, Reddick made a heck of a late charge to win the Regular Season title on fumes (albiet with a little help from Mother Nature in Indy), and being arguably the best driver in Cup this year, he should be able to get over the hump and get 23XI to not just its first Championship 4 berth, but perhaps the first championship ring of any kind in decades for both of its very differently decorated owners. (Maybe its last Final 4 berth though considering this charter drama that I already lost track of like four months ago.)

Christopher Bell - Chalk it up all you want to bias for who will, after a certain retirement, soon become my second-favorite driver, but not only has Bell been insanely clutch in the playoffs as of late (he's damn near NASCAR's Mr. October at this point), but if the October Bell indeed rings all the way to Phoenix, he'll be in his paradise of the kind of flat tracks he's been so good at. (Legit, he may be the only person in the world who isn't a NASCAR executive that wants Phoenix to stay as the championship track, even if he's had championship success at Homestead in lower divisions.) Yeah, he lost his first two Final 4 berths, but those were respectively due to an OP Logano car and his tire becoming a nuke just as the race got going. Considering how he's already had his best season so far, he may have just enough to secure the 20 team (and in fact any JGR ride not driven by Kyle Busch) their first Cup title in nearly two decades. (It'd be especially since SHR's closing may mean the end of the last #20 car champion's 26-year involvement in NASCAR, as if Smoke really seems to care about that.)

And my pick for 2024 NASCAR Cup Series Champion is...

Christopher Bell! (Reddick was really close, but the Phoenix factor could be the difference. No, I'm just high on hopium after one of my two favorites collapses out of a playoff spot and the other is on pace to easily the saddest final season and a half of any Hall-of-Famer (present or future) that didn't die on the track.)

Now watch as these age like milk and the Wood Brothers win their first(?) ever Cup with a driver they issued a pink slip to months ago! 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

[merv606]

I was thinking about Puritan baby boy but in an old fashioned boarding school situation. Omegas only but with some Alpha teachers who preach Alpha centric ideas. One Alpha teacher takes a sign to Daniel and of course that is Mr. Silver. We could say it's for 18-21 year old young omegas to learn omegahood 'properly'.

Daniel in a school uniform. Terry wants to eat him up!

Imagine that soft sweet omega gasping as Mr. Silver fingers him for the first time, murmuring about how wet and soft his pussy is. How good Daniel's taking to having his cunt played with, how much he loves it.

Or there's an Alpha school nearby and Daniel often finds himself the target of Alphas who escape and coming sniffing around the omega grounds..

Well this one has been sitting her forever!

Terry has been teaching this class for quite some time now, and it never felt like a job to him. Not only was teaching his passion, forgoing his family business, even if he did still benefit financially, but the topic was something he was passionate about. Helping omegas be the best version of themselves for their alphas. Teaching alphas how to properly treat omegas of quality - although that was another class.

The omegas and alphas were always kept in separate in classes to ensure the omegas weren’t causing the alphas too much of a distraction. Although they do learn of the important role the other part plays in the alpha/omega dynamic. It was vital, after all, in truly understanding you own role.

Many omega and alphas ended up finding each other and mating once school was done, but during school hours they weren’t permitted to mix.

While it was not unexpected, and quite common for unions to come out of this, in all his years of doing this, not one had made Terry turn his head, not one even so much as caught his attention, and a fair number of omegas had passed through his classes.

But this little omega. Oh how he was different than the rest. So very very different.

His beauty was beyond compare.

Big brown eyes, impossibly wide, and a generous mouth, lips an unnatural shade of pink, Plush and always open invitingly.

This omega called to him.

In a way Terry had never experienced before or, quite frankly, seeing as how the best part of his thirties were far behind him and his fortieth looming, expected to experience, even if he was well versed on the topic.

At very first sight.

Terry knew.

He felt the pull. The alpha felt the pull.

He knew.

Without a shadow of a doubt, in a way so absolute that it was hard to explain.

This omega was his!

His!

This omega would bear his pups in short time.

It didn’t matter that the omega was not from the wealthy circles like the omegas he was used to were.

All sent to be polished up for trophies for families destined to be joined.

This did not bother Terry in the slightest. In fact, he thinks he prefers it like this.

His little diamond in the rough.

All that matter was that he wanted the omega and what he wanted, Terry always got. Be damned anyone that stood in his way.

Terry simply became the little omega’s benefactor. Making sure, as a result, that he had Daniel assigned to him, knowing that he would Terry’s ideal mate when they were done.

He had happenstance to thank for his good fortune.

The little omega had showed up at the church, seeking refuge, and father Kreese recognized the appeal he would have to Terry, and the financial advantages this would have for the church, quickly arranging a meeting.

Terry may be a tenured professor for the most prestigious omega/alpha finishing school, so was well off regardless, but his family had old money - generational wealth.

He was also sought after as well but never seemed to express a desire to settle down, which was odd, given his passion on the subject he taught.

Still, it just meant he hadn’t been presented an omega who caught his eye, but this one did. Oh how this one did.

The donation to the church would be substantial.

“You will make Dean,” Kreese says, not really a question.

“Of course,” Terry snorts.

“No professor has made Dean without an omega by their side …. and pups.”

This is true - an unmated alpha was considered a liability - an omega would temper him.

Although normally the pups were grown by the time the alpha made it to such a position. As it were, it’s shipping up that Terry will be the youngest one named, as the current is very close to stepping down.

“Easier said than done,” Terry responded to his old friend, but Kreese had smiled that knowing look of his, calling for the little omega who turned out to be a pretty little thing - a brunette beauty -

“Absolutely stunning,” Terry had remarked, unable to say anything else, the omega had him taken aback so.

He knows his eyes flashed red before getting himself under control, and had advanced on the omega a few feet.

To his credit, Daniel stood his ground, only averting his eyes, bowing slightly.

“What’s your name, little one?!”

Terry knows it will end in Silver very soon, although not soon enough, if the reaction of the alpha within is anything to go by.

“Daniel, sir.”

Terry took his hand, kissing the back, and Terry knew - he knew - the boy was his mate and would wear his ring once classes were done.

Mated and bred shortly after.

He knew that he would have his omega heavy with pup come the announcement of Terry’s new position, with many more to follow.

At 21 he didn’t pass the purity exam, but Terry pays that no mind. He believed the boy when he says he has not had relations.

Terry confirms it for himself when he slips a finger in all the way up to the last knuckle, wide brown eyes flying open - how fucking tight he is. It’s impossible that an alpha has taken him in such a manner.

Tonight is the night.The graduation ceremony is behind them, and Terry only needs to make it through the dinner now, but he knows he needs a taste; he knows he won’t last if he doesn’t.

Which is how they have ended up here in this empty room, Terry testing his theory on his omega who is squirming beautifully in his lap with Terry’s hand in his panties with a finger buried in his omega cunt for the first time as Terry tests how ready he is.

How Terry wants it to be his hands on slim hips as he helps Daniel bounce on his cock instead, and it would be easy. Slide his boy’s pretty panties to the side and slip right in. They had been a graduation gift to the little omega from Terry, his soon to be finance, although the omega didn’t know that yet.

Right now, as desperate as he was, being fingered for the first time, the little omega would let it happen too.

He’s already sitting on Terry’s lap with his legs spread - his alpha having managed to work two fingers in now - his thumb rubbing his rosebud.

He’s so desperate it come; come for what Terry suspects is the first time.

All his firsts will be Terry’s.

Everything he is and will be, is Terry’s now.

This is still good for Terry too, even if his cock is straining again this pants, aching to sink into the omega’s soft yielding cunt, like his fangs ache to sink into soft yielding flesh. Mark that unblemished mating gland like he’d mark his insides.

The wet noises as he fingers his omega’s precious pussy, plump and full with arousal - his hand practically dripping in slick he’s so responsive to the alpha’s touch.

God the noises he’s making too, as he’s fingered - little gasps and whimpers - little confused moans of pleasure. Knowing how loud he’s being …..

Then there’s the stiff peaks of his nipples under his white shirt that he has on.

Fuck Terry wants so back to get his mouth on those - see how sensitive they are. Wants to push that shirt up to the omega’s narrow waist and bend his boy over and give him what they both want.

Defile him.

Ruin him for anyone else.

But Terry won’t have his first pup conceived in such a manner because make no mistake their pup will be conceived tonight - he can smell his cunt from here and how ripe his omega clearly is.

Terry had forbidden birth control. He’ll revisit the possibility, of course, after their first few pups.

Right now all he smell is how badly the omega’s body wants a baby in it. A baby Terry will gladly put inside him. As many as he can, in fact.

He doesn’t for the omega’s stomach to be flat for quite some time.

To think, Daniel had tried to protest when Terry had first pulled him into this empty room. Trying to be a good and proper omega, like he was taught, even if it was a losing battle against Terry’s desire, the alpha’s hand dipping into his pants, fingers staying above the underwear but rubbing him through it all the same.

Making his omega wet - making him try to squeeze slender thighs together.

Terry’s hand on his knee opening them back up as he balanced his mate in his lap, feeling the stiff bud of the boy’s aroused rosebud against his fingertips, even through his panties.

“Alpha sir,” he had whimpered, “that’s for my husband ….” But the little omega was practically humping against the Alpha’s hand, unable to control himself.

Something that Terry himself had preached.

That their rosebud was not for them to touch - not until their husband had the honour first. Then it would be up to them if it was allowed.

“Everything you are belongs to your alpha - especially your pleasure.”

Terry slowly pulls his finger free, the dirty squelch as the wet walls of the omega’s cunt closes behind it.

He brings a finger to his own mouth, licking it free of his mate’s juices.

“Won’t I be that soon enough?!” Terry asks, holding up the omega’s left hand where his ring adorns his finger. Terry had slipped it on earlier in the night. He puts it in his mouth now, sucking, tongue fondling the ring.

Terry can smell as well as hear the gush of slick this causes.

“Such a pretty little pearl you must have, baby. It must be aching so bad. Let me see,” he commands gently, moving his underwear to the side, finally touching his finger to bare pussy now.

Daniel screams, and the alpha kisses him, eating the sounds. Everyone knows what is happening in here but some decorum is needed.

“Cunt like this was made for cock baby. You’ll have it soon enough though.”

Daniel can feel the alpha’s bulge against him.

Hand inside his panties fully now, the omega bites down, an accident, drawing blood from Terry’s now swollen lip, as a thick middle finger slides back in, like a knife through warm butter, so velvety soft inside.

Terry can feel his omega’s release against this fingers as he comes, pussy convulsing and the gush of liquids against his hand.

If his panties weren’t on he’d be squirting everywhere. Terry knows this as such the damp patch on his underwear grows, becoming soaked.

He eases off, the omega’s pearl too sensitive now, the whimpers more pained than pleasured.

Terry will get another one but first, his omega will need to calm himself a bit.

Withdrawing to the omega’s tear stained face, kissing the flushed red cheeks, tasting the salt of his pleasure as it rolls down his cheeks.

Terry licks his slick wet fingers clean and he can’t wait until later when he finally gets to have the omega on their bed.

Get the omega to ride his face so he can taste it straight from the source.

Can’t wait to have the omega present for him before taking him like that - Hands and knees in the proper breeding position - his cock divesting him of his purity.

Fill him with his cock and seed - as is his very right - over and over and over. Until the omega is bursting with it.

The omega’s body is going to open up beautifully and grip so tight, just like he did for Terry’s fingers, but for something much larger this time. More satisfying and filling.

For now, Terry’s cock needs attention, so does he want to come down his boy’s throat or on that pretty pussy that he swears is still twitching. Maybe finger some of his cum inside the omega’s cunt after his covers it in it.

Picking Daniel up, Terry lays him out on the teacher’s desk - his desk. He had pulled him into this room for a reason after all.

He only gets the omega’s panties pushed down to the knees, before he slips a finger up his seam, the slick clinging to his finger, connecting them with a thin ribbon.

The underwear pushed all the way down so he can open the boy’s legs - hanging off a thin ankle while the other one is griped tightly in Terry’s hand as he bends Daniel’s leg back, remarking, “what a gorgeous cunt you have baby.” The alpha only manages to get his zipper down to get his cock out enough to wrap his hand around himself, jerking his cock to the sight. A few strokes is all he needs and he’s coming, coating the omega’s pussy in seed, watching as it drips down.

“Looks even better covered in my come ….”

He gathers some, presenting it to that tempting and sinful pink lips, the boy sucking the come soaked finger into his mouth.

The sight of it all is too much.

Terry opens his mate’s legs wider, hands on both ankles now, commanding Daniel to spread his slick folds, which are preventing Terry from looking at his most intimate place.

Daniel obeys, like the prefect little mate he is, hands holding himself open, the alpha getting a perfect look at that tight little hole that now belongs all to him.

Thin legs are thrown over his shoulders.

Burying his fact here, Terry tasting himself and the omega’s juices and how well they mix together.

The aroused bud above his hole, erect and peaking out of its protective hood, Terry laving it with his tongue before using his fingers to gently pull it back to expose it entirely, sucking it into his mouth.

The boy comes again, quick yet almost violently, screaming, knuckles white from where he grips the desk, back arching up, his cunt pressing more against the alpha’s mouth.

As Terry predicted, he squirts everywhere - cunt convulsing and clenching - some drops landing on Terry’s shirt.

A pool of it on the mahogany desk as Terry steps back, wiping his face clean.

Two fingers push inside, fingering in as much come as he can. Only when he’s satisfied does he pull his boy’s panties up to cover him once more. Terry tucks his own cock away before zipping up his pants.

He wants everyone to smell the claim he has just staked. Wants the scent of his seed and his boy’s satisfaction to cling to them. Still, he knows they won’t be staying for long

A hand rests on a narrow and flat stomach. His omega breathing heavily, dazed from the experience.

Maybe the seed Terry fingered in will take but he wants to get started on making sure that stomach doesn’t stay flat for long.

That means taking him as soon as he can and as often as he can.

That means the privacy and intimacy of their bed and home; Terry showing the omega what it is to be loved by their alpha - burying his cock in as deep as he can when he comes this time - filling his womb with seed - as it should be.

Looking down at his mate he knows there will be no protest, not even a token one like earlier.