#Rach Writes Sometimes

[bottlesandbarricades]

The Hour of Ghosts

Summary: A short story exploring the supernatural consequences of the Dance of the Dragons. Word Count: 2961 Warnings: Major spoilers for House of the Dragon season 2 / Fire & Blood, Major Character Deaths, Suicide, Mental Illness, Violence, Graphic Injury, Spooky Themes A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing something hotd-related and is essentially my coming-out-of-writing retirement fic to ease myself back into writing. Big thank you to @beaconofthehightower for pushing me to finish this and @dreamymoomin for beta reading. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my silly little ghost story 👻

The Dance of the Dragons left deep scars on the Seven Kingdoms, political and otherwise. Although the literal stench of death was vigorously scrubbed clean, the stains remained, ingrained into the very fibre of the people and the world left behind.

The battered, burnt banner of fire, blood and loss hung over the ruins of a once noble house. Hastily patched and practically mended with rough hands attempting to salvage what remained of House Targaryen and restore order to the realm. The bitterness of it all stuck to the tongue like ashes in your mouth - it had been for nothing.

No one had won; everyone had lost.

The generations to come would debate the facts and wage their own war with words, for and against each side’s claim in volume after volume of biassed histories. Others would simply gloat with the gift of hindsight, suggesting that those involved should have foreseen that a war of kin slaying kin and dragon fighting dragon would never have had a glorious victor.

As the years passed, the memories of the war faded from the sharp, throbbing string of freshly cut wounds to aching battle scars. Moving into that part of the collective memory, where the lines between fact and legend become murky and confused. Truths became as tangible as wisps of smoke from an open hearth, sewn together with the thread of imagination by every wet nurse in Westeros.

Something haunted these lands - collective trauma manifesting and twisting into tales of ghosts, ghouls and fantasm.

From the North shore of the God's Eye, where the blackened ruins of Harrenhal sit decaying, it is said that some evenings as the sun drops below the Western horizon, a high-pitched whistle can be heard in the wind. A piercing unnatural sound that makes the blood in your veins run cold.

To the native smallfolk, this sound is a well-known harbinger, a sign to shutter your windows tightly and turn in for the night - less you wish to glimpse something eerie illuminated in the moonlight over the inky black water.

The story goes that the shrill sound of Prince Daemon's mount, Caraxes, is always followed, even on the clearest of nights, by a rumbling like thunder, so loud that it sends ripples through the lake - the roar of the once mighty war dragon, Vhagar.

Phantom snarls shake the ground, hailing the infinite clash between the Blood Wyrm and the she-ancient dragon of the one-eyed Prince, Aemond Targaryen.

The sound of wings that no longer beat and gnashing jaws that have long since crumbled to dust echo for dozens of miles. Sparks of white-hot dragon fire gone cold reflected in the water below. As spectral flashes of red and bronzy green scales appear against the colourless void of night, weaving and merging like a coil of translucent serpents, struggling and writhing for dominance.

Shades of memory replay - Caraxes’ jaw locked tight around the larger dragon's throat, as Vhagar clawed, bit, and ripped in bloody retaliation. Tearing scales from flesh, and flesh from bone with the ease of Valyrian steel.

However, most unnerving are the two pale princes themselves mounted on the ghastly long dead beasts, as silver as their hair was in life, both gaunt with death and cadaverous to the eye. Sallow skin pulled taut over their skeletal faces, cheeks stained with tracks of red from bloody tears, which ran from sunken eyes.

Two souls destined to be locked in a battle for eternity, forever to play out their mutually assured destruction. The elder fated to leap from his dying mount and drive his blade of moonlight into the younger’s skull - again and again overlooked by Black Harren’s accursed seat.

A sickening and frightening spectacle for mortal eyes to perceive, yet in the absence of fear you might say there was a chilling beauty to the scene. Always to end the same way - poetically some would say - in fire and blood.

To the south, high above the city of King’s Landing upon Aegon’s Hill, the mighty Red Keep plays host to many ghosts of its own. This is no surprise as many people would wager that enough blood had been spilt within its walls over the years to fill the Blackwater. The castle is plagued by ghouls from across the ages, some from the days of the conqueror, himself.

Folk could pass many a long winter’s night recalling the countless tragedies of that castle and those who were said to remain there. It appeared that this war of dancing dragons only added to that grisly spectral collection.

It is Maegor’s Holdfast, where servants don't dare linger alone and guards dread to be posted in fear of hearing her. The whisper of phantom sobbing that murmurs just beyond the reach of your ears or more terribly ghoulish shrieks of anguish that grasp your throat with fear and settle in your chest. It is the sound of grief-driven madness consuming a gentle, yet tortured soul.

Even as the years passed, the agony of Queen Helaena’s bereavement was palpable, the sounds of her anguished cries were enough to drive anyone to madness. They consumed you, drowning you in sorrow and dragging you down with suffocating melancholy.

Some say that Helaena’s haunting was part of what drove her Mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower to her own derangement in the years following the war.

Tormented, not only by the loss of her three sons but also by the cries and whimpers of her dead daughter, which echoed off the pale red stone. Confined within the very same walls that had been sweet Helaena’s home turned prison in the last half year of her life before she had flung herself from the window to her death, impaled on the spikes below.

Alicent Hightower had been harshly punished for her sins. The feeling of being trapped, one way or another, had been a constant companion throughout her life. Yet it seemed being locked away, like her daughter before her, was the final straw.

No needle and thread nor book could save her sanity.

She spent her time attempting to converse with people unseen, sickened by the colour green and longing to hold and comfort her dearest babe in distress whom, like the rest of her children Alicent could no longer picture the face of.

On her deathbed, it appeared that the raging fever quieted the madness and allowed for moments of clarity and reflection for the Queen in chains. As expected, Alicent spoke at length of her regrets and confessed her transgressions. It seemed for the first time in a very long time, Alicent Hightower was at peace.

“I want to see my sons again.” Alicent had said, as her life ebbed away. “And Helaena, my sweet girl.”

The Septa who sat in vigil over Queen Alicent that night, failed to mention everything that happened in the final hours of Alicent’s life in her official account. What the poor woman had witnessed as the rain lashed against the castle windows had left her shaken, clutching her seven-pointed star so tightly that each corner had left tiny cuts on her palms and fingers.

At the hour of the wolf, the Stranger had come for Alicent Hightower, but it appeared death was not alone.

The Queen’s breaths had become shallower and shallower until finally, the death rattle had set in. It was then that an eerie coldness filled the bed chamber, at odds with the raging fire in the grate. Gooseflesh prickled across the Septa’s skin as the chill engulfed her. A cold so biting that she could feel it seep through the numerous layers of her coarse linen robes.

It was strange and unnatural.

With an abrupt rush of wind, the fire was extinguished from the hearth. Snuffing out her last fragile defence against the fear that had suddenly taken hold of her. The room was consumed by darkness and the Septa’s only solace now was a handful of low-burning candles clinging to their flame within the bedside lantern.

She knew she should move; she should attempt to rekindle the logs that smouldered in the fireplace or call out to the guard on the door and yet she could not. Instead, she sat frozen in her chair and was forced to bear witness.

Between the hammering of her own heart, the rasping breaths of the dying Queen and the rain that pounded relentlessly at the window panes, it was hard for the Septa to hear them at first.

The voices started softly and indistinct, like overhearing a conversation in another room, but grew louder and more coherent with each passing moment. Till it was as if they were in the very bed-chamber itself.

Initially, she believed they were children’s voices due to their high and melodic quality. However, as the Septa strained her ears to hear, she soon realised these voices chopped and changed in tone with every few syllables, distorting into a heavier and deeper pitch and then swiftly returning to a higher register.

Stricken with fright, all she could do was listen. Discerning that the voices seemed more masculine than feminine, the Septa tried to focus on distinguishing meaning in the sea of words as the voices continuously talked over each other.

Then she heard it, the common thread. One word was repeated over and over.

“Mother.”

The realisation was scalding, in sharp contrast to the icy air that surrounded her. The Septa’s initial instincts were correct; these were the voices of children - Alicent’s children.

The blinding clarity only seemed to make the voices grow louder. Becoming more frantic and fractured, flicking rapidly between youth and maturity. It was chaotic and confusing, as if years of memories were trying to compress themselves into a single moment. Blurry, broken and half-remembered.

“Where are you, my loves? I can’t see you.” Came the weakened voice from the bed between laboured gasps.

The Septa’s eyes had now adjusted to the dark and she watched in horror as she began to notice the movement of unnatural shapes forming in the gloom.

Hearing them was one thing, but seeing them was another.

Twisting and bending, the four misshapen figures that manifested could not decide what they wished to embody. They shifted in stature and years in the same disturbing manner as their voices, morphing from adult to child and back again.

They crowded the bed, tugging at the bedclothes as they had once tugged at Alicent’s skirts in life, so many years ago. All the while their voices kept on calling for her. It was too much to bear.

This fresh wave of alarm seemed to bring the Septa to her senses and she did the only thing she knew she could. She began to pray, hands clasped together around her seven-pointed star. Shutting her eyes tightly as she recited the words, she wished to hear no more, to see no more.

Time seemed stagnant as each minute that slipped by felt like ten. The Septa focused on her prayers, drawing comfort from the words she knew so well. The familiarity shielding her from the ghoulish sights and sounds around her.

Until all of a sudden, she felt a shift in the air and the voices were gone, fading just as fast as they had come. A balmy glow now beckoned through her closed eyelids.

There was light and warmth as the fire returned to the grate. The logs were ablaze once again, heat flooding the room and banishing the chill which had consumed it.

The Septa took a shaky breath before daring to open her eyes, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of being warm and alive in the peaceful, blessed silence.

As the rain pattered softly against the glass, she realised the storm had passed, along with Alicent Hightower.

Across the water, clinging to the face of the volcano known as Dragonmont, sits the fortress of Dragonstone. A place of salt, smoke and brimstone. The ancestral seat of House Targaryen, a relic of Old Valyria forged by dragonfire and the forgotten magic of Dragonlords.

This castle was the grim and eerie backdrop where some say Aegon II claimed victory over his half-sister, the Black Queen. A hollow and costly victory, which hardly tipped the scales in the face of all that he had lost.

One final petulant jab in this bloody squabble.

Though accounts from both sides of the warring factions differ on many things, they find common ground on one exchange, which took place upon Rhaenyra’s arrival from King’s Landing to find herself betrayed and Aegon in situ.

“Dear Brother, I had hoped you were dead.” Rhaenyra called out at the sight of Aegon’s half-charred and twisted form. Delighted by the small triumph of his injuries and satisfied that even though she would almost certainly die at his hand, Aegon would spend the rest of his days bearing scars done in her name.

“After you. You are the elder.” King Aegon spat back with a pained grin, his jaw clenched hard as he fought to hide the agony that coursed throughout his broken body. He had refused milk of the poppy out of the fear of poisoning and paid tenfold for it.

“I am pleased to know that you remember that.” Rhaenyra replied.

Now friendless and at the mercy of the enemy, Rhaenyra Targaryen was forcefully separated from her son. Little did those present know that once the dust of conflict had finally settled, this child would in fact be King in his own right. But, for now, he was just a boy.

A boy forced to watch his Mother die.

The Realm’s Delight was served up to Aegon’s dragon, Sunfyre, who bathed her in red-hot dragonfire. As the flames consumed her, Rhaenyra raised her head skywards and shrieked out one last curse.

What didn't burn, was swiftly devoured. The final memorial to the Half-Year Queen being nothing more than the scorch marks left on the ancient flagstones.

The words and meaning of Rhaenyra’s dying curse are lost to time, but many suspect it was the root cause for the strange happenings that followed.

It started at the site of her killing, a peculiar sweltering heat rising from the stone for which there was no logical source. Those foolish enough to dare place their hand on the blackened marks themselves would come away harshly burned in searing pain. A mere moment's touch brought about hideous blisters that bubbled on the skin and left the surrounding flesh charred and cracked.

Then came the sightings, it was said that if you ventured to cross the courtyard in the dead of night you may catch a glimpse of the Black Queen herself.

A haunting apparition composed of swirling smoke and glowing embers. The flaming skirts of her gown twirled around her as long silver-gold hair burned bright like white hot iron. Flames licked around her once beautiful face, now reduced to nothing but ash and a pair of hollow eyes.

The smell of burning flesh and brimstone filled the air as an aura of blistering heat that radiated around her form, shimmering and distorting. No words came from her blackened mouth, only thick, choking smoke as she silently screamed, leaving trails of cinders in her wake as she stalked the castle grounds.

Rhaenyra Targaryen conveyed her displeasure through the flame, which had been her demise. Burning anything to which her spirit took offence. Newly hung tapestries were known to spontaneously combust and seven pointed stars melted in their holders.

She may not have held the Seven Kingdoms or sat the Iron Throne, but it was clear that Dragonstone was her domain and even in death she would remain its mistress.

As the decades passed, it appeared her restless soul seemed to quieten - the sudden fires becoming less frequent and sightings fewer and fewer. Till the tales of her spectre had become nothing more than a story to frighten children.

Theories to the reason for this change were in the dozens, some claiming that a young brave Septon had been to Dragonstone and bravely banished the fiery ghoul from the castle, casting her down to the Seven Hells where she belonged.

Others believe her spirit's suddenly passive nature was linked to an even greater shift, something was changing for House Targaryen itself. Where the air of Dragonstone had once been thick with Valyrian enchantment there seemed to be rot.

Their magic was dying, eroding away further and further with each generation.

People once said that the Targaryens were closer to Gods than men and yet it would seem that the sin of the dance had angered something much older and much crueller than the deity of several aspects worshipped by the faith of the Seven.

This was something ancient and primal that wished to punish them for tearing apart their house with the blessing of dragons that had made them Kings. Many argued that the sins of the Greens and the Blacks were the reason that after the war House Targaryens’ dragons declined, getting smaller and weaker as their power faded with each malformed dragon and unhatched egg.

In the end, the doom of the Targaryen dynasty was inevitable. The damage was done and the dominos would continue to fall uninterrupted. Without their dragons what truly separated them from the other great houses of the Seven Kingdoms?

How long would it be before others saw the mirage for what it was and another contender took their chance for the Iron Throne?

After all, power only resides where men believe it resides. Truth does not matter, only perception and once the illusion of power is extinguished, snuffed out with the dying breath of the last dragon, there is no returning to what once was.

[denimshortsdean]

"sorry this is so self-indulgent, I just-"

my beloved artist. my darling writer. if you are not making things for your own fun and enrichment, then why did you start making it in the first place?

[sxfterhearts]

omg chat why is writing kinda hard???

ok so this is a bit of an aside (warning: this post is long) but @348kg and i talked about this and honestly writing fanfics is a way for us to express ourselves creatively while using our idols as inspo for our work. and it’s fun most of the time.. but like honestly, 70-80% of the time, writing is hard. it’s not easy, like… it’s actually quite hard work.

and i know everyone has seen posts of like “pls reblog instead of just silently reading” or “pls like at least to show your appreciation” etc etc etc and ur probs sick of hearing it but like, it’s so true???

writing is honestly hard. and for most of us fanfic writers.. im sure you know but we have lives outside of our blogs. we are students, or we work normal jobs, we have life responsibilities, we have problems to deal with, and yet somewhere in between our busy lives we manage to find the time to sit down and create these pieces of writing for you, the reader, to read.

and tbh, i don’t really know where im going with this? i just want to let you know this: a typical 1-2k words one-shot probably takes me around 2-3 hours to write (on average, on a good day - sometimes longer or shorter). but it takes you maybe 10-15 mins, at most 30 mins to read depending on your reading speed. isn’t the time gap a little wild 🫠 on a typical work day, i get home from work at about 6, i cook myself dinner and eat, i shower and clean up, and if i know im writing that night, i make sure to clear my schedule (ie no overtime, no phone calls to friends or parents etc) and i sit on my laptop and write from about 10ish to about midnight. then i pause and i edit, and set things up to get ready post (think: pictures, title, word count, writing the warnings, summary, doing the tags) and by the time i post, it’s probably 1am.

i breathe a sigh of relief because it feels good! it feels really good to release my labour of love (literally) out into the world. and honestly, you know who you are, but those of you who constantly read and reblog my work, i see u!! (Alexa play i see u by p1harmony) and those who leave comments or reviews in the tags, i also see u (that’s why i like to reblog and respond to your tags too)!! it honestly brings me so much joy when someone comes and talks to me about something i wrote and how it made them feel. or even when someone recommends a fic i wrote. all these things that are so little and take so little of your time actually mean so much to me and im sure other writers as well.

and so i guess what im trying to say to everyone is: if you are a fic reader, if you read any fics, i just want you to know that the fic you loved reading took the writer a lot of resources to write (brain power, creativity and importantly time). i hope this gives u an insight into the process of a writer/writing a fic because im hoping it might help with whether or not you decide to hit that like or reblog or comment button in the near future!!

(also, i think it’s a shame that as writers sometimes we have to compromise on what we actually want to write vs what to write to get more engagement, likes, rbs etc. personally i have been writing on tumblr since 2020 on and off so ive been on here for four years now and i have a good sense of what is a good formula for a “successful” fic - usually it’s smut, usually it’s for the most popular member in terms of fic reading, and usually it’s of a certain length posted around a certain time etc etc. but i guess i don’t rly care anymore bc im a kinda old tumblr writer who isn’t bothered about the notes as much as i am just grateful for the little comments people send me saying that what i wrote made them feel seen or resonated with them. cos i think that is priceless 🥹)

PS. in no way am i complaining about the engagement or lack thereof that i personally get, nor am i complaining about the mere fact that writing is hard bc yes i am aware that i wanted to write in the first place and so it was my decision haha

[putellasawfc]

down again !

rachel daly x lioness!reader

( a/n : sorry i haven’t posted in sooo long omg !! honestly the holiday season drained me & since i’ve been so unmotivated to write :( & i’ve been dealing with stuff in my personal life, nothing serious just so hectic ! but i am slowly coming back. still have a mary earps request & arsenal x teen!reader request to work on and a few of you have asked for a pt2 to the wag in training instagram post i made. they will all be coming eventually ! )

-

you jogged beside rachel up and down the pitch, you and the others girls were warming yourselves up for the ninety minute game against belgium that was due to commence in twenty minutes from now, the fans had already begun to fill the seats of the stadium and you were eager to win this for them. you were excited for the match, a little nervous but mostly excited.

it had been awhile since you were in the starting line up after recovering from an ankle injury, you had been on the bench for all the recent games and you were more excited than ever to be able to play a full game again, though sarina had advised you to let her know if you felt as though you were pushing your ankle too much and she would take you off immediately, not wanting to risk you causing any further damage to it which could lead to anything permanent.

you felt a nudge against your hip, and turned to see your girlfriend of almost a year smiling at you knowingly. “you gonna score a banger for us today?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, knowing she was only half serious. “what do i get if i do?”

“umm..” she cocked her head to the side whilst she pretended to think, both of you turning on your heel once you reached the end of the pitch so you could run back up again. “a big fat kiss and a box of chocolates?”

“is that it?”

you gasped at the sudden shove you were given, stumbling over your two feet as rachel laughed and continued jogging.

“oi!” you called out, “you can’t do that, i’m fragile remember.” you caught up with her, shoving her in return though not with as much effort she had just given you.

“yeah, yeah.” she shrugged you off, “that’s not what you were saying last night.”

“rach!” you cried out, head whipping around to ensure nobody was nearby to hear what the blonde was insinuating.

she laughed at your reaction, and you almost wondered why you put up with her sometimes, but when you glanced in her direction and saw her already smiling back at you with that fond look in her eye, that look you only saw when she was staring back at you, you didn’t waste another second trying to guess.

“you’re such a pain sometimes.”

-

you made your way into the penalty box as one of the belgium girls grabbed the ball and made her way to the corner, the red and black kitted team earning themselves a corner after the ball had been kicked out by millie when number nine had gotten too close for comfort. you got in position, standing where you usually always stood which was just outside goal, as closest to mary than any of the other england players with a few girls from the other team pushing and grabbing their ways between you and your fellow lioness.

you sent the blonde a reassuring smile, confident that you would be able to stop the ball from touching the inside of the net with how well you had all been playing so far already.

the ball had been kicked and was now soaring through the air with some speed, you bounced on your feet as you waited to see where it looked more likely to land, your arm stuck out to prevent one of the belgium girls from knocking you out of the way and gaining an advantage on the ball.

the seconds went by in slow motion as the ball got closer and closer to where you stood, and you made the quick decision that you would try and header the goal out of play as it seemed like the best decision, you did not want to risk passing it to another member of the competition and have them get it past your or mary.

you jumped on your feet, leaning forward to connect your head with the leather material when out of nowhere, you felt a harsh push against your back and ribs that had your head flying into something else instead, something that had you crumbling to the floor only a second later with your head in your hands and a mind numbing pain spreading through your entire body.

the crowd exploded into a chorus of boo’s, and the whistle blew not even a second later, the loud sounds doing nothing to soften that pulsing agony in your head. you didn’t want to move, your whole body felt heavy and the thought of stretching even a single part of your body sounded like hell to you. you didn’t even react when you felt a gentle hand on your back, or another on your shoulder, or another on the top of your head where the hairband to your ponytail was positioned. the pain was so intense you were sure that if you weren’t so out of it you would be a sobbing mess right now.

you felt a body loom over yours, and some hair tickle your ear, “babe? can you hear me? are you alright?”

the northern accent that sounded from your girlfriend was heavily coated in an unusual sense of concern that you never really heard from the carefree blonde, but with you down on the floor, seemingly unresponsive the villa player was more scared than she had ever been.

“babe? can you please just say something? or move your hand? just wanna make sure you’re awake okay? please.” she sounded desperate at the end, and your heart clenched at the panic in her voice.

so with all the strength you could muster, which right now wasn’t a lot, you moved your hand until you managed to find her thigh, where you let it sit, feeling comforted by the skin on skin contact you had with your girlfriend. it wasn’t long before she grabbed that hand and squeezed it in her own, her slender fingers intertwining with your own as her thumb rubbed the back of you knuckles.

“you’re gonna be okay, yeah? the medics are here love, they’re gonna make sure you’re good.”

you mentally nodded at that, though didn’t make any move to physically show her you had acknowledged her words. you felt her press a quick peck to the back of your knuckles before she released your hold in hers and moved aside to let the medics in. you frowned at the loss of contact, but there wasn’t much you could do about it until you were at least able to verbally communicate with the people surrounding you.

the medics checking you out was a blur, just a lot of hands touching your face and neck, moving your head back and forth, the gasp from some of your teammates when they caught sight of the nasty gash on your temple that you hadn’t even realised was there until the alcohol wipes came out. a light was shone in your eyes briefly, before it was flickered off and the medic gestured to two other medics who were waiting offside.

a few seconds later a bright orange could be seen from your blurred vision, though you knew what it was straight away. there was no mistaking the stretcher you had seen being brought out more times than you had liked throughout your career, most of the time for other players but today it seemed as you were the lucky girl about to be carried off the pitch. you panicked a little, worrying how serious your injury was if the medics thought the stretcher was necessary.

your eyes sought out the presence of the only person who could calm you at this moment, flickering around wildly in a desperate attempt to find her but it was like she had all of a sudden vanished.

it was hemp who clicked onto who you were looking around for, the man city striker was stood at a distance, biting at her nails as she watched over you almost protectively, and seeing you so frantic in your attempts to place your girlfriend had her feeling even more sorry for you. she was quick to help out, looking around to find rachel, who to no surprise, was with millie just out of sight from you.

millie was holding the smaller girl back with a hand to her chest, as rachel yelled at the culprit who was the reason for your newfound concussion, the woman in question at least having the decency to look guilty. rachel’s face was flushed red with anger, and her hand was flying all over the place as she yelled. it was a good job millie was there, lauren thought to herself. though millie herself wasn’t looking at the belgium player too nicely either.

with the medics ready to lift you and get you on the stretcher, lauren didn’t waste anymore time and jogged over to the duo, placing a hand on rachel’s shoulder which halted her ranting as she looked to see who had approached.

“they’re carrying y/n off rach, i think she wants you with her.” hemp kept the explanation brief, knowing it would be enough to have rachel retreating and joining you.

and she was right, rachel didn’t even bother to look back at the belgium player again before she rushed off to where you were still laid on the floor, some of the other lionesses now wandering off to give the two of you (along with the medics) some much needed space. she fell down on her knees next to you, and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding.

“come on pretty girl, let’s get you somewhere they can treat you properly yeah? need you all fixed up so we can have you with us again.” rachel did a good job at soothing your racing thoughts, her encouraging smile enough to ease the part of your brain that was coming up with all sorts of scary injuries you were convincing yourself you might have.

with your head still being in immense pain, you were still unable to nod in response, so instead you opted to send her a weak smile to let her know you were listening and appreciated her being there. she smiled back, moving to squeeze your hand in hers once again which added to the comfort you felt with her around.

“just gonna stand back whilst they get you up, okay? then i’ll be with you whilst they carry you off. ella’s gonna be with you whilst i’m still on the pitch but if sarina takes me off i’ll be finding you straight away, alright babe?” she explained, and you squeezed her hand in acknowledgement, feeling more at ease now you knew toone who was on the bench right now, would be with you whilst the medics checked you over inside.

rachel did as she said and temporarily let go of your hand so that she could step away and allow the medics to handle you properly, not wanting to get in their way and cause any issues whilst they dealt with you. a mixture of emotions weighed heavy on her heart.

she was angry at the player who decided to shove you head first into the goal post, just to stop you from getting rid of the ball that mary had caught anyways. no she was livid actually. but she was also upset for you, who had just gotten back on the pitch after waiting almost two months for your ankle to heal after your last incident on the pitch, now you’d be off again and for your sake she just hoped it wasn’t for longer than two weeks at most. and on top of all that she was worried, very worried about the state that you were in.

this wasn’t just a simple hit to the head that you could walk off, clearly. you were bleeding heavily and it was as if you weren’t even aware of where you were, or who you were with or what had just happened. she was just grateful you seemed to be able to understand what people were saying to you, that would’ve been too much for her to cope with she was sure.

millie comforted her whilst she waited for the medics to finish, and she was grateful for the support from her best friend who didn’t speak, only rubbed her shoulder comfortingly in the stressful seconds that passed. it had been six minutes now since the game had been halted because of your injury, and whilst the others girls ran to their managers and listened to advice and new game strategies, rachel refused to leave the pitch with you on it, especially with the state that you were in. if it weren’t for the cameras that were no doubt pointed at her right now, she was sure she’d be a mess until she found out for certain you were going to be okay.

she moved forward the second your body was lifted on the stretcher and squeezed inbetween two bodies so that she could grab ahold of your hand for the third time since you went down, using her spare hand to rub up and down your arm whilst she walked with you all the way off the pitch. the crowd watching erupted into applause as they always did when an injured player was carried off and rachel could only smile at the show of appreciation for you, her super girl who would’ve no doubt been tearing up at the love you were receiving if you were really aware of it.

when you reached the end of the pitch, she quickly leaned down and as gently as she could placed a quick kiss to your cheek, giving you once saddened glance before she moved back. “love you baby, i promise i’ll come see you as soon as i can.”

the only thing keeping rachel relaxed at the moment was knowing that ella would be with you on the other side, one of your best friends on the squad who she knew would look after you in replace of her. she waited until you were out of sight before she turned to make her way back to the pitch, making eye contact with the belgium player who had been sent off with a red card for deliberately pushing you into the goal post, and she was tempted to approach the dark haired woman and do something she’d probably regret in the morning. but before she even had a chance to take a step in that direction, sarina appeared in her line of sight and sent her a look, a look that said ‘you know you don’t really want to’.

and despite the vision of you laying on the floor, body crumpled and unmoving so clear in her mind, she knew sarina was right. so reluctantly, she steered her body in the opposite direction and jogged back to her original position as she waited for the game to recommence.

-

four hours had passed and you were now laid in bed in your hotel room, the one you shared with rachel as you always did when you were at camp, with the blonde fretting over your every need.

the doctors you had seen had confirmed you had a hefty concussion, and would be out of any form of football based activities for the next two weeks, which was a bummer but you were just glad it wasn’t too long, hopefully two weeks would pass by in a flash.

unfortunately, they had given rachel a list of symptoms to look out for incase your condition worsened and now the poor woman hadn’t relaxed since she’d gotten back, constantly checking up on you and watching over you like a hawk so she could catch any slight change in your current state so she could alert them immediately.

“rach, babe, come sit please. can’t relax with you pacing around like you are.” you stressed, patting the empty space beside you. “i am fine. i promise i will let you know if anything changes.”

she tutted at that but approached the bed as you had asked her to. “will you though? i know what you’re like. wont wanna say anything because you won’t want me to panic.”

“i think it’s too late for me to be worrying about making you panic.” you teased, and she glared in response.

“well i’m glad you can make jokes right now. i don’t think you understand how scared i actually was when i saw you down like that.”

your heart clenched at the sight of rachel with her head down whilst she fiddled with her fingers, and suddenly you felt bad for making jokes when she was so obviously still upset about the whole situation.

“hey, look at me rach.” you reached out and placed your hand on top of hers that were together on her lap. “i am okay, the doctors know what they’re doing and they said i’m fine, yeah? i promise you, cross my heart and hope to die, that i will tell you if i start feeling worse, okay? as soon as.”

she stared back at you for a second, her eyes wandering from yours to the bandage that had been wrapped around your head after your injury had been cleaned, before she let out a sigh and nodded, her tense body finally relaxing for the first time since the game which you took as a small win.

“think you need to start playing in bubble wrap from now on. first your ankle, now your head, what’s next?”

you were relieved to hear your girlfriend joke around with you once again, albeit her tone lacked the usual cheekiness that it usually held when she was messing around with you, obviously still not completely at ease with everything but she was showing signs of getting there.

“think sarina will add it to the next training kit for me? i’ll even offer to put some money towards it.” you smiled, hand moving to cup rachel’s cheek whilst you watched her eyes light up in amusement.

“yeah i’m sure she’ll be proper up for it, especially if it means actually having you on the pitch for more than a game at a time.” she retaliated with a laugh at the end and you playfully rolled your eyes at her light hearted comment.

“i made it almost sixty minutes, better than what i’ve been getting lately, i’ll take what i can get.” you shrugged, and now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“love you silly girl, even when you’re so accident prone.” she leaned forward and pecked your lips, which you melted into happily.

“in my defence, what happened today wasn’t an accident! i’m a victim.” you told her, which earned you a shove back against the headboard.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

rachel green x reader headcanons

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • f•r•i•e•n•d•s masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a/n: we’re all a little in love with rachel right? on a mission to write hcs for all the friends characters 💋🩰

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dating rachel would include…

ok so you and rachel first met at her office 

wow, it’s not like she’s ever done that before. *cough* gavin, tag, mark (kinda) *cough*

what i’m saying is miss girl has a type

so you both worked in the same department and she started to develop a crush on you

one night when you were both working late

you started talking and it eventually led to you making out on her desk

aaand you’ve been dating ever since 

her friends were a little skeptical at first of her relationship with her coworker 

but eventually as they all got to know you, you became one of the group 

ross took longer than the rest of them to warm up to you ‘because of the history’

honestly rachel spoils you

always giving you fashion advice and buying you clothes

“oh, honey, this looks so good on you. and, you know, now you can throw out those old ones’

she loves your butt

calls you sweetie 

does that thing when you’re holding hands where she traces your hand with her finger

pillow princess 

she writes little sticky notes for you and puts them all over your apartment and in your pockets

and she always smells so good 

she drags you along to all of these spas places and you guys have spa days

she’s really good at giving gifts 

not so great at receiving them

‘oh, sweetie, i love it. it’s beautiful!’

‘rach, do you want the receipt?’

‘no! …. actually, can i just hold onto it?’

but she tries really hard to return only the stuff she really doesn’t want 

when you all do things as a group you and rach are always sneaking off to go spend some time alone

like once when ross brought all of you along on a muesem tour

and you and rachel were bored 

(you can only make fun of abstract art for so long)

so you snuck off to see if you could find something more interesting

and ended up getting caught ‘frolicking’, as the museum guard put it, behind a sculpture of a past president

‘wow, a public place, (y/n)! i don’t know, it’s kind of thrilling! i feel like joey!’

ross was furious 

‘i can’t believe you two! in a place of integrity and knowledge!’

to which rachel said 

‘i don’t know, ross. i saw a lot of people doing what me and (y/n) were doing in some of those greek paintings back there.’

and that ended that conversation

you guys get to spend almost every second together, what with seeing each other at work as well as outside of it

and sometimes it’s hard pretending not to be a couple at your job

lots of sneaky little touches 🤭

all of her friends love you so much and think you bring out the best in her 

(and joey just likes watching you two together)

you guys couldn’t be happier and rachel loves you so much 

…even more than weekend at bernie’s

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope guys enjoyed!! check out my other friends hcs on my masterlist and have a lovely day!! 🎀🖇️

[pensat-i-fet]

Shared insecurities (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**So I recently got a request to write about the reader being slightly insecure because of being flat chested and that would lead us to some fluff. As a fellow flat-chested gal, I found the idea pretty good. So I hope you like it as well ❤️**

Word count: 2240

Masterlist

Wattpad

"I'm going shopping!"

"Can I come?"

"I'm going with Rachel, sorry".

Rúben pouts, making me laugh.

"Are you buying clothes for our holidays?"

"Of course, everything I have looks terrible all of a sudden so I need to fix that".

"Buy something sexy", he winks and I shake my head.

Something sexy…sure, one actually has to feel sexy in order to look sexy. And I can't say that's the case for me right now. But I try to forget all that when I meet Rachel to go on our shopping trip.

"Hear me out. I know we're not going to travel together but how cute would it be if we both had this matching set? We could be twins on different sides of the world".

I laugh and pick up the clothes she's showing me. Rachel and I have similar taste, so it's not surprising to me I actually really like this set. What we don't have in common is our body shape.

"I don't know, Rach. This top would look great on you but what do I do wearing this?"

"You look hot. That's what you do", she shrugs.

"How?", I say, pointing to my chest.

"What are you even talking about? You wear tops like this all the time even if you don't have much to show. At least you don't have to deal with all I have to show", she says, pointing at her own chest.

"But people like what you have to show. They look at me and wonder if I went through puberty yet".

I leave the top back where it was and move to see other clothes. Of course, Rachel follows me, frowning.

"Has Rúben made a comment about it?"

"About what?"

"About your boobs being small".

"No", I sigh. He's never made me feel like my body isn't good enough or pointed out any flaws. I'm good at doing that myself. I don’t need his help.

"Then where is this coming from?"

"I don't know. Of course I've been insecure about being so flat-chested in the past. But I thought I had made my peace with it. And now all of a sudden it's back. I see all these women with their tiny tops looking so good. Or all the bikini photos on Instagram and…well, then look at myself and it's pretty underwhelming".

"Don't compare yourself to others, please. You're perfect the way you are. And just so you know, it's very uncomfortable sometimes to have bigger boobs like mine. I so wish I had yours many times".

"You don't have to say that to make me feel better but I appreciate it".

"I mean it", and I've known her long enough to know she's saying the truth.

But still, whenever I pick another top or bikini, Rúben's words come back to my mind. "Buy something sexy". Because surely he wants me to be sexy. For him. And yet this is what he gets.

**

For our holidays, we go to a small Greek island. Tourism here isn't as bad and so we can relax better.

"Take that off", I hear Rúben say and open my eyes to look at him.

"Take what off?"

"The shirt", he says and I can see he's got a bottle of sunscreen in his hand.

"I'm good. I already put cream on my legs, don't worry".

"How can you be good? It's almost 40 degrees and you're wearing a shirt".

"I'm fine", I tell him, even though it's really hot and I'm not fine at all.

"Is everything ok? Are you ill or something?"

"No, Rúben. Just stop pestering me, ok? I want to sunbathe in peace".

"With a shirt on".

I close my eyes and turn my head to the side so he can't see the little tears in my eyes. Why do I always have to be so emotional?

But, of course, he can read me like an open book and he moves around the sunbed to look at my face and try to find the answers I won't give him.

"Why are you crying? Did something happen when I was out?"

"No".

"Well, you're scaring me then".

"I don't want to wear a bikini".

His frown is even deeper now. "Not what I expected to hear. But why don't you? I mean, we're sunbathing…is it because of the news that people have been filming women at the beach without their consent? We're in a private area, that shouldn't happen".

"As if anyone would want to take photos of me in a bikini", I mutter.

"I do", he laughs, not understanding what I'm saying.

But instead of telling him, I just get up and go back to the room, closing the door before he can get inside. And I know he'll get the message that I need a second to be alone.

Ten minutes later, the door opens and he finds me staring at myself in the mirror.

"Tell me what's wrong, please. I can't help you if I don't know".

"How can you like this?"

"Like what?"

"This", I say, pointing at my chest. "Your boobs are bigger than mine, Rúben".

"So? What's the problem?".

"Well, you want me to be sexy. I want to be sexy too. And this…this is anything but sexy".

"Why do I find you sexy then?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to be treated like a child, Rúben. I have eyes. And I know what men like. You want someone like Rachel. And I want to look like her too. I'm not blaming you".

"If I wanted to be with someone like Rachel, I would be with someone like her. I don't. I'm with you. And I've been for a while. Don't you think that if your body was a problem, I would have noticed already?"

I put the shirt back on, ignoring him, and go back to bed. But soon, he's lying down next to me.

"It's ok to be insecure sometimes but don't doubt me, please. We've always been honest with each other".

"This is different".

"How?"

"This isn't something I can change. It's not ugly clothes or like that time I thought getting highlights on my hair was a good idea".

"And who says you have to change it?"

"I do. I'm usually confident but we all want to fit it. To fit the standard of what people find attractive".

"And you think you don't already", he says, shaking his head. "That insecurity has gotten to your head but once it's gone, you'll see how wrong you were".

"You don't get it".

Rúben sits up and I follow his movements with my eyes.

"I do. Do you think I just go to the gym to be strong? I want to look good. I want to fit in that stupid idea of what attractive is too. But that's not where the insecurity ends", I sit up to listen to him and he continues. "When I miss a header I think maybe it's because I'm not as tall as other players but I can't change my height so I work extra hard on my jumps. When I'm too slow I wonder if it's because all the muscle I have somehow slows me down. But if I don't have the muscle, I lose strength for the one-on-ones with other players. And the list goes on. You know how I feel after a bad match".

"Yes, you're pretty unbearable", I joke.

"And you put up with me and tell me what a great player I am and the insecurities disappear. So let me do the same for you".

"I don't know if you can right now. The idea is too stuck in my head".

He gets up and offers a hand so I do the same. Then he walks me to the mirror and moves to stay behind me.

"Let's take this off", he says, trying to remove my shirt but I try to stop him. "Let me".

I lift my arms and he takes the shirt off. I look at the bikini again and feel the need to cover myself. But he holds my arms when he notices.

"This is what you think is ugly, then?"

"I don't know if ugly is the word. But not good enough".

He then moves to my side and I look at him frowning.

"You're right. My boobs are bigger than yours".

"What?", I say, choking on a laugh.

"Maybe I should wear a bikini too".

"Rúben, stop".

"No no, let me try".

In a move I didn't expect, he removes my bikini top and tries to put it on his body but…he's bigger, in general. So it obviously doesn't fit.

I look at him, biting my lip so I don't laugh.

"Are you done being a clown?"

"No, because I made you laugh. And I also got your top off, which is another win for me. Because I like what I see. A lot".

"Thank you", I tell him, putting my arms around his shoulders and kissing him. "Should I just stay like this all day? You can wear my bikini if you want to".

"But I don't want tan lines", he whines jokingly.

I end up putting my top on again because he's right about the people taking photos of others. And because insecurities don't disappear after a couple of nice words, no matter how much they helped. But I leave the shirt in our room. Baby steps.

When I get bored of just lying down there, I pick up my phone and go on Instagram. Rachel has posted photos from her own holidays and I like the post before seeing all the photos. But then, I look at them.

"Look how great she looks in a bikini", I tell Rúben. "This is what I meant".

"I don't think many boyfriends get told to look at other women's boobs by their own girlfriends, you know?"

"Stop joking. You know I'm right".

"She looks good, yeah. And so do you. Send her a photo of you in that bikini".

"What?"

"It's Rachel", he says as if that explains everything. "She doesn't lie to you. Don't ask for her opinion on how you look. Just send the photo".

He's right so I find a photo we took earlier, as part of Rúben's plan to make me feel better. And I send it to my best friend.

It doesn't take her long to respond and I laugh.

"What did she say?"

"Stop sending me photos of you looking hot while I'm here with my boyfriend".

"Hot? Good word choice".

"I get the point, Rúben".

"I mean, gorgeous would have done too. Maybe even fucking gorgeous if we want to make sure you really get it".

I roll my eyes while he continues reciting all the adjectives he could use to describe me. But I love hearing him say all of that.

After a very lazy day, we shower and get ready to go out for dinner and a drink. I pick one of the summer dresses I bought on my shopping trip with Rachel. The neckline is pretty low but it's not as if I have much to cover so it works well for me.

"No bra. Naughty!", says Rúben when he sees me putting the dress on.

"I can't wear a bra with this dress".

"And that's why summer dresses are my favourites".

"Of course they are. Let's go eat. I'm starving".

The place is packed with people but we find a couple of seats at the bar and sit there while we wait for a table to be available.

We are just chatting, sipping on our drinks when a woman walks towards me.

"Sorry to bother you. Could you help me fix my top? My friends aren't here and I don't want to ask a man, you know".

I look at her, surprised by the request.

"Sure, what's the issue?"

She turns so I can see the back and points at the straps there. "Is it done the right way? Because it's hurting me".

"No. One of them is twisted. Let me undo this quickly so it's done right. The skin is a bit red too. Hold the front of the top well so it doesn't move".

"Thank you. God! I hate my boobs!"

Rúben lets out a little laugh at her words. "Sorry".

"Don't be. I know you don't get it but these can be so annoying sometimes. So many tops don't fit me or wearing them can hurt like it happened right now".

"Done", I say and she turns to look at me.

"Thank you", she says, giving me a quick hug and looking down at my chest. "See? Look at that gorgeous dress you're wearing. You get to make it look good. I'd have to spend the night trying to keep these two in place", she laughs.

"And I would love to be able to fill my tops with something other than air", I laugh too.

"We're never happy with what we got, are we?"

I shake my head and she says goodbye to us before leaving to go find her friends.

"You do look great in that dress", says Rúben, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing me closer to him.

"And I don't have to worry about keeping anything in place".

"Plus the whole not wearing a bra thing…".

"Oh my God, Rúben. Grow up!"

[kohakurin8]

~ A Devouring Obsession ~

Dissecting the message behind the bistro horror game, Dead Plate

‼️ WARNING ‼️

This post contains spoilers for the entire game and all 4 endings. If you would like to play the game before reading, you can download it at the link below.

Being a French Waiter Sounds Fun, Right?

First of all, I'd like to start by saying I absolutely LOVE this game by @racheldrawsthis and the amazing people at Studio Investigrave. The story will permanently occupy a part of my brain, which is exactly why I'm taking the time to share my thoughts on it.

In this game, we play as a happy-go-lucky waiter named Rody, who's just started his new job at a famous 1960s French bistro, La Gueule De Saturne.

His boss is a prolific chef named Vincent Charbonneau, who's equally odd as he is talented. He stands in the back of the bistro kitchen and watches his cooks meticulously prepare his day-by-day cuisine, meanwhile Rody is mysteriously the only waiter.

It's worth noting that the "diner style" gameplay is incredibly fun and really impactful to the overall experience of the story. Even though it seems to only be particularly relevant in the first playthrough or so (however long it takes you to buy the Matches), I still absolutely love the feature.

The Difference Between Love and Obsession

Sadly enough, I've seen a lot of debate going around in the fandom and Rach's ask-box about shipping connected to the game. While I support headcanons and unique interpretations of the source material (and don't hate the ship), just as any creator should, I also cannot stress enough that this is NOT a story about Love!

The story of Dead Plate is incredibly immersive and very well written, meaning that just as in life there is very much a possibility for the events between Rody and Vince to have ended better. But the point of the story is to actually illustrate the tragedy of Obsession and how it can ruin a person.

To preface, if neither Rody nor Vince had indulged in their obsessions, things could have ended a lot better for everyone involved. But sometimes in life, tragedy strikes, and there's nothing you can do but learn to accept it. The best outcome, the happy ending, isn't always the reality.

So if any of you out there still believe that the game of Dead Plate was "shipbaiting" somehow, or if you struggle to see the differences between Love and Obsession portrayed in the story, well...

Allow me to elaborate!

The Manon Hangup

We all know Rody and Vince, whether you've played the game or just got a bit curious about it on the Internet. But, the third major character who holds the stories of these two boys together like glue is our dearly departed Manon.

Although her identity is mostly hidden until after the first ending, Manon is soon revealed to be Rody's ex-girlfriend and Vince's current girlfriend. She serves as both the object of Rody's obsession and the catalyst of Vince's obsessions — although, despite her being the story's primary victim, I can't help but feel she's also a bit guilty of Crime of Inactivity for the events which transpire.

Rody and Manon had been dating for a while, I think since even before Rody dropped out of university. He would spend all of his time and money trying to make sure she was always happy, neglecting himself to the point that Manon finally broke up with him.

And then went after a rich, famous chef almost immediately... Ya know... As normal people do...

Needless to say, Rody believes he's madly in love with Manon. He's constantly talking about how absolutely in love with her he is — about songs he wants to write for her, and things he wants to do to make her happy. And all of this definitely gives the illusion of love, but if you actually pay attention to what he says and how he acts, it's pretty obvious that Rody isn't in love at all.

Rody is obsessed with the idea of being in love...

See, when you're in love with someone, you talk about them — who they are, what they enjoy, how they make you feel, etc. But Rody never says anything like this about Manon; if he did, then we would have understood who she was better before Ending 3. Instead, everything he says about her is an "I" statement.

"I bought her gifts!"

"I want to take her to dinner!"

Yet, even when asked questions about Manon, Rody can barely answer them. The best detail we can get out of him is that she might be a little materialistic.

Rody's obsession was never about Manon, it was instead about how having a girlfriend made him feel. That's why he held onto her so hard, why you have the option to try calling her every single night, and why he simply can't even accept the fact that she broke up with him.

This likely has something to do with trauma in Rody's past, although we'll never really know. What we DO know is that Rody's behavior could have possibly been corrected if Manon had simply acted sooner in the relationship.

Why did she wait until he was so far gone to finally take action?

Why did she start dating a richer guy almost immediately?

We don't know enough about Manon to say for sure, but I suspect she may have been passively taking advantage of Rody until the guilt was too much to bear. Which in itself didn't exactly lead to her death and the ruining of three lives, but Manon still had the opportunity to stop this entire debacle before it even had a prayer of happening.

The Torment of a Chef

So now we slide over to Vincent's obsession, which is admittedly more detailed and complex than Rody's. After all, he's a trained chef in France, the capital of culinary arts! It's no doubt his job is way more high stress than you could possibly imagine.

But there's so much more to his psyche than that...

Rach has given us a lot of details about Vince, and I'm going to be referencing them quite a bit in order to properly explain the nature of his complex obsession.

Let's start with the fact that, although it isn't directly confirmed, it's been mentioned quite a lot that Vince's parents don't show him any love — this of course would be the reason why he has no idea what love actually is or what it feels like. The only thing he's probably ever loved in his life is food, which makes it all the more devastating that he lost his sense of taste when he was a small child.

Vincent spent his entire life learning how to cook perfect food, yet he despises eating and can't taste ANY of the masterpieces he cooks. That alone would be maddening.

Yet, it gets worse for him. Because Vincent doesn't understand love, that also means he doesn't understand how to put love into his dishes — the one ingredient every chef will tell you is most important in cuisine. (I should note I actually have a little bit of a background in professional food services) It's a huge insecurity for Vince, and rightfully so! Despite all of the people who praise his skill, there's always a handful that will call it "bitter" or "soulless" despite that.

But that's fine, he's fine. He's managing that insecurity. So what if he can't cook with love? Who even knows what love is anyway? He's still famous, and talented, and well renowned. He doesn't need those heartless critics.

Until he met Rody...

The two of them went to the same university, although it's pretty evident they didn't interact much back then. It's possible that Vincent's obsession with Rody started in university, watching him from afar, but that's uncertain.

What is certain is that Vince became obsessed with Rody after the ginger became a waiter at the bistro. Vincent heard Rody talk constantly about how much he loved Manon, that it started to make Vincent think... What if that was his key to cooking with love..?

Remember how Vince doesn't understand love? Well, it's important to consider that although one might not understand what love is or how to show it, that doesn't mean that they don't feel love.

Vincent is canonically gay, and also canonically obsessed with Rody. But why did he become obsessed with Rody in the first place? Usually when you latch into a person like that it isn't for some random, niche reason. So it seems highly possible that Vincent was in love with Rody.

He even did his best to show his love to Rody in the only way he knew how — by cooking.

Each night, Vince sends Rody home with "leftovers" — except, they aren't actually leftovers; they're dishes which Vince specially cooked himself specifically for Rody. He desires more than anything for Rody to enjoy his cooking, because he has no other way to show his love.

The issue with that is Rody is one of the people who expressly believes that Vince's food is soulless. Granted, he's the sort of person who would praise Burger King so honestly his opinion should be taken with a grain of salt, buuuutttt... That's not how this works.

Vince loves Rody, therefore Rody's opinion is important.

Rody "loves" Manon, therefore Vince is jealous of Manon.

I suspect this is why Vince was willing to agree to a relationship with Manon in the hopes of killing her. See, he's so obsessed with cooking "love" for Rody that if you choose to give cheese to the rat in the kitchen on Day 4, Vince cooks the rat as one of the meals for Rody.

Why? Because Rody showed it love.

It's the exact same reason that he decided to murder and cook Manon into the Grilled Hanger Steak.

I know you're going to say "But, wait! He wanted to eat Rody too!" and yeah, he does eat Rody in Ending 4. But let me impart some wisdom onto you all as to why his meticulous plan took these tragic events.

I know it's tempting to buy into the idea that Vincent intended to eat Rody all along, but consider his dialogue in Day 7 for a moment.

As he's talking to Rody, Vincent reveals his true nature — all he wanted was for Rody to eat the steak he made and taste the love he felt for Manon. He never once mentions a desire to eat people himself. Not until Rody tries to escape and Vince snaps, declaring:

"But... Maybe you ..."

It's only then that Vincent actually starts attempting to kill Rody. After all, if he really wanted to kill Rody, he wouldn't be so willing to have a conversation with him (or get mad when he couldn't escape the freezer in Ending 2)

The issue in Vincent snapped when Rody found Manon's locket in the freezer. His plan was completely ruined, and with no plan B, he lashed out. It's also worth noting that Rach confirmed Vincent is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.

Funny how he attacks Rody with a corkscrew and you find a broken wine bottle in his office, huh?

It isn't confirmed, but I consider it highly likely that Vince was drunk on the night of Day 7.

If Vince was inebriated when Rody made him snap, it would explain his impulsive and irrational behavior. Drunken minds lead one to do all sorts of things, and it's likely that it played a role in Vince's plan shifting from making Rody taste love...

...to eating Rody in the hopes of tasting anything love for himself.

Because it isn't Rody's love of Manon that Vince thinks he'll taste. That was never how the theory worked.

It would be Vince tasting his love of Rody.

Who's the Real Villain?

Vincent might be the antagonist of our story, but that doesn't necessarily make him the villain. After all, his actions were entirely circumstantial to Rody's behavior. Which means that—

You guessed it

Our true villain is Rody.

This is something I really love that I've noticed in the 3/5 Studio Investigrave games I've played so far — the protagonist tends to be an unconventional villain.

In Rody's case, I'm sure it comes as a shock considering his himbo-puppy demeanor, but if you take a step back and look at him it's pretty obvious. Everything in the story happened because of Rody's self-sacrificing behavior.

Rody's obsession with Manon fueled Vince's obsession with him. His unwillingness to see the consequences of how he treated himself allowed it to hurt everyone around him.

If Rody could have accepted his break-up with Manon, she might not have ended up dead. If he could have reigned in his obsessions then neither of them may have ended up dead.

In a better timeline, Rody and Vince may have even been able to find love in each other.

But this isn't that story.

This is a tragedy.

A timeline where everything goes to the worst possible outcome. Where obsession devoured three lives...

Thank you all for taking the time to read all of this!

If you'd like to discuss the theories or have any questions, feel free to ask or send me a message ~

[kimmiessimmies]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

A set of 20 questions to get to know your OC!

It's been a while since @nocturnalazure tagged me to do this again. Life took over for a while, but here we are, after all. Thank you for tagging, my dear! ❤️ Upon your request, here's Rachel!

I was actually hoping to post the next chapter today, which also centres around Rach, but I need two more days to get that sorted. So consider this your Rachel-fix to pass the time. 😉

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Rachel has a fear of heights and things that go at excessive speeds.

Do they have any pet peeves?

When people comment on the fact that she's quiet, talking on the phone (especially when it can be texted).

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Books, her diary, and a collection of hairbands.

What do they notice first in a person?

If they have kind eyes.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Maybe a 6? She can handle some pain, but not too much. She's also afraid things might hurt.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

This totally depends on the situation. Rachel would fight if she feels passionate about something, but when it's something less important to her heart, she wouldn't.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Rachel comes from a very warm, open-minded, and accepting family situation. She doesn't have a big family, but her parents, her brother and her sister are hugely important to her.

What animal represents them best?

A golden retriever. Loyal and helpful.

What is a smell that they dislike?

Rachel is not a perfume girl. She dislikes most perfumes and artificial smells in general. She picks showergel with a natural smell and non-perfumed washing detergent for her clothes.

Have they broken any bones?

She broke her underarm when falling off a slide as a kid.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Quiet, shy.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Rachel loves her sleep. She likes to go to bed at a reasonable hour and sleep until she wakes up naturally, which is usually around 8.

What is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love?

Rachel is vegetarian. When there's meat in a dish and she didn't expect it, she immediately notices upon first bite, and it literally leaves her nauseous. She loves avocados!

Do they have any hobbies?

Reading, writing, yoga, ballet (although she hasn't done that in a while).

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Not too great. Well, she wouldn't show it, but those who truly know her, know she likes to be prepared.

Do they like to wear jewellery?

Yes! Earrings especially! But always understated, never big or flashy..

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Compassion and insecurity

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Wool and cotton

What kind of accent do they have?

No noticeable accent, but she can speak very softly. Sometimes so quietly that it's hard to understand.

[tulipatheticee]

gleeks of tumblr i had a brainwave

rachel berry x fem mute dancer.

i don’t think you heard me,

RACHEL BERRY X FEM MUTE DANCER

could you imagine it because i can, rachel would never be threatened per say because her girl would never take any potential solos from her and rachel, being the yapper she is, would be able to speak for both of them, yes rach is still rach so sure sometimes she may be all me me me me but idk IT SEEMS CUTE TO ME

someone needs to write this or i’ll have to take matters into my own hands

[bottlesandbarricades]

Quick guide to the old fics and wips.

All fics are also posted on my AO3

Includes fics for: - House of the Dragon - BBC Ghosts

House of the Dragon:

The Hour of Ghosts

Summary: A short story exploring the supernatural consequences of the Dance of the Dragons.

BBC Ghosts:

Dreams

Summary: Can Ghosts dream? What would they dream about?

Alison's Choice

Summary:  It’s movie night at Button House

[denimshortsdean]

wip tag game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

I'm pretending @castielafflicted tagged me because I think this sounds fun as fuck hee hee. All titles are written as verbatim in my docs/notes lmao

what if Real Steel was Real Destiel (is this anything)

Japannatural

princess and the frog au obviously

top jimmy

maid on the shore sea shanty AU

regency brainworms

something something motorcycles

gay bootleg A Knight's Tale HELL YEAH

country singer cas and his gay little songs

bayou Uncle Tom's Cabin murder mystery

tam lin but it's GAY

tagging @realmandolin @forkinthegarbagedisposal @letterlimerence @electric-loser @riverwithoutbanks @destielyurii and anyone else who wants to share their wips!! I will gladly be your excuse to share

[dabilove27]

Hi Rach 🥰🥰

Could I request prompt #3 with Madara Uchiha, mayhaps? ❤️

Or honestly write whoever you want for that prompt, with a little dash of angst. I love that prompt so I’m excited to see what you do with it!

Congrats on your follower milestone my love! 💕

Hello lovely Lauren!!!! I am sorry this took me so long! Life and kidney stones completely destroyed my schedule! Thank you so much to @lady-lunaaa for giving this a quick read through!

Link to the masterlist

Warnings: hints of intimate moments, established relationship, pet name “my love” and a hint of angst. Let me know if I missed anything!

At night, the moon shines high and bright, casting its rays through your open window and illuminating Madara's skin. The weight of unspoken words fills the room with an uneasy silence. The two of you lay naked in your bed, the covers half strewn across your bodies.

"I thought you weren't going back," you finally muster up, your mouth dry and throat aching from the noises that had recently escaped you in an intimate moment with the man staring blankly at your ceiling. 

"I wasn't going to, but I must finish what I started. I can't allow this failed experiment to continue any further." Madara’s words drip with contempt.

You release a slight hum of acknowledgment even though there's an ache in your heart. You didn't anticipate developing feelings for the enigmatic man who arrived in town one day, brimming with animosity and rage. After spending a few unrestricted nights together at your home, you witnessed his passion and brilliant mind. He was definitely unlike any previous partner you've had.

Madara shared his aspirations for Konohagakure and how they were shattered when he witnessed his clan being suppressed by the Senjus. While he exudes confidence and cockiness in his ability to combat Hashirama, you feel apprehensive and concerned that the outcome could be fatal.

You wish he would stay by your side and abandon his plans to attack the village, but Madara is resolute. Is it foolish to desire a family to attain happiness with him? If you were to reveal your knowledge about him to others, they would definitely answer in the affirmative. The heart can be fragile when it comes to love, sometimes overlooking the flaws, especially when Madara manages to captivate you so swiftly.

The first time you saw him, he appeared like a shadow in the night. His long, dark hair that glistened in the moonlight. Scars littered the hard planes of his body. There were deep stress lines beneath his dark eyes. All of it drew you in. To put it mildly, he was handsome. 

Despite the logical warning to not pursue this elusive figure, your heart couldn’t resist his beckoning. The thought of him departing and never returning was too painful to bear. So instead of pushing the issue, you let your fingers trace over his toned stomach, following each scar slowly. 

That was your intention, or so you thought. Instead of controlling your emotions, you blurted out selfishly, "But what about me?"

Madara shifts his gaze towards you and carefully observes the anxiety and exasperation visible on your face with his intense, dark eyes. "My love, what about you?" He repeats the question you asked earlier. As he pulls you towards him, his face draws nearer to yours. His lips are against yours for a moment, and you can taste the remnants of you on his tongue. Just a reminder of how close the two of you were just moments ago. 

Madara pulls away from you too quickly and lets out a short growl as he whispers, "For you, my love, I would destroy the world." 

Thanks for reading!

[sxfterhearts]

hello :) this is my little corner of the internet ₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ about me ! ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ rach | '00 | she/her | jiung's chocochip <3

♡ p1h | got7 | exo

🎧 on repeat : one and only, p1h

🖊 currently writing for : p1harmony (mostly fluff; mature/suggestive themes for hyung line - theo, keeho, jiung, 18+ mdni)

🖊 in progress : ot6 song fic drabbles <3

🖊 full masterlist : here ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

🖊 sometimes i yap about : all things related to fanfic writing, kpop, and deep thoughts on the joys and pains of love and life (tagged: rach 💭). fic recs are under tag: fic recs

🖊 requests are : always open so feel free to drop me a msg if you have fic ideas or just want to chat !! 💌

© sxfterhearts

[hyungseos-cafe]

haha i just wrote some gut wrenching jiung angst 🙃 sometimes i feel like i’m better at writing angst than fluff bc my fluff always comes out so awkward. anyways if any of my fellow p1ece are interested in reading, please interact with this post and i’ll add you to the taglist!!

maybe if i’m nice enough i’ll even post a snippet that’s more fleshed out than the one i sent to rach 😅

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I wasn't tagged directly, lol. I'm doing it anyway, though!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 12 works on AO3!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

390,129 words, at present.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently (and I suspect forevermore): House of the Dragon. Previously: Harry Potter (back before JKR was a massive cunt).

4. Top five fics by kudos?

dōnus riñus (sweet girl) (3,417) gevivys (beauty) (2,971) ñuhus prūmȳs (my heart) (2,276) ilībītsos (little slut) (1,881) darilaros (princess) (883)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, I do! I like to thank people for reading, plus it satisfies my odd-number issue (they make me weirdly uncomfy). When people take time out of their day to leave me a message, I want to make sure I'm recognising that and letting them know that I appreciate it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Yikes. I think it's the Harry Potter one, where I have Harry and Hermione marry and have a kid during the war, and they both die in the Final Battle and Ron ends up taking the kid to visit their grave.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that pretty much all my terms of endearment fics have happy endings - or near enough for ASOIAF-verse!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Weirdly enough, no. I'd resigned myself to it given the themes and content, but people are weirdly accepting of it. I sometimes get strange comments (like someone who keeps insisting I make Daemon cheat with Rhaenyra), but they aren't hate, just... odd.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Feels like that should be overemphasised, haha. My writing is diiiiiirty.

10. Craziest crossover?

I haven't written any crossovers! If I were to do so, I'd probably do a 'Daenerys teleports back in time to House of the Dragon and gets with Daemon and Rhaenyra'. Hot.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Three damn times, lol, all from the same fic series (ToE). Once in May of last year, where someone stole my work and only changed the names to fit the Shadow and Bone fandom. Once again in June of last year, where someone plagiarised multiple ways and multiple times to write their fic (a whole other drama, yikes). And once in May of this year, where someone stole the entire first part of one of my chapters to write their Daemon x OC fic on Wattpad. All have been removed, because I'm not down with plagiarism at all.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so? I cannot remember for the life of me. I know I've been asked, and I gave my approval, but I haven't seen the translations myself so no idea if that ever went ahead.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! But it hasn't been published. We call it 'the Socussy fic' because it involves an unnamed female OC being hired by the Blacks to off the Greens during the Dance, only she does so by banging them to death in hilariously macabre ways. I wrote the establishing part featuring Daemon hiring her and the Larys footfuck death. We're missing one final bit, I think? It started in the big HotD Discord server I run, and @bottlesandbarricades @targaryenrealnessdarling and @ewanmitchellcrumbs have all collaborated on it. We're waiting for a final victim to contribute and then we shall convene as the Socussy Council and bestow the posting of it upon one poor soul! (I vote you Rach @bottlesandbarricades)

14. All time favourite ship?

I'm a die-hard Daemyra (Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen) fan, but I also recognise that this is likely going to fracture and perish as the series progresses. I'm also hella into Jonsa (Jon Snow x Sansa Stark) and Jonerys (Jon Snow x Daenerys Targaryen). Plus, I like Jaimsa (Jaime Lannister x Sansa Stark) and Sanseryn (Sansa Stark x Oberyn Martell). I don't really know what this all says about me as a person, both the pairings themselves AND the fact they're all ASOIAF ships.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have an Aemond WIP fic that I'm too scared to finish given Aemond stans are a little intimidating to me! Also, I have a Klaus Mikaelson x OC/Reader x Elijah Mikaelson threesome fic that lingers in my files.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think my strengths are my flowery prose, my relative era-accurate world-building and my characterisation.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I ramble way the fuck too much. Seriously, shut up, Em. Explain those three paragraphs in one goddamn sentence only.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I think it's cool! I've made sure to research how one would format the inclusion of this in a standard fiction novel, too, so that it reads as 'professionally' as it can be. I manually translate High Valyrian to include in my writing, because the translators aren't at all accurate and I don't want to break the immersion (even for myself). (As an aside, I can and do assist others in this too - hit me up if you need it!)

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Blegh. Harry Potter. Don't shoot me, I was a child.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

My series terms of endearment. If I have to choose within the series, probably ñuhus prūmȳs (my heart); it's the first proper divergence from show material featuring my own plot, and I think it's where my writing truly takes form.

YAY! Done.

No pressure tags: @vampire-exgirlfriend @emilykaldwen @marthawrites @mini-kunoichi @selfproclaimedunicorn

@ripdragonbeans @flowerpotmage @presidenthades @queen--kenobi @lady-morrigen

[rreskk]

18+ please.

Hey! I’m Rach. If you can’t already tell; I write fanfiction! (only sometimes). I used to write loads of Trevor Philips smut, so click on my search bar and type in “Trevor Philips” and you’ll be blessed with the thousands I have created just for whores, like you! <3

What I write now? Mainly original character works. I’m fairly new to the “Good bad ugly” fandom, though I’ve watched the trilogy years ago. I’m quite the sucker for Angel Eyes, or Lee Van Cleef in general! So expect some related fanfiction about his characters soon. I mainly reblog other people’s art or ramble. But I try and stay entertaining.

Feel free to ask me anything. I can come up with some headcanons if you’ll randomly ask. So yah, see you around!

My socials: AO3