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grimm-rider · 1 year ago

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Entry 30

It’s done. We had to fight Keisuke, and it’s over and done. I couldn’t convince him to give up Nestian’s mother and her Eidolon. They were too connected to his damned ritual. And he was afraid of Nestian’s mom trying to kill him. Which, I mean, yeah of course she was going to try to kill him, he murdered her husband and got her son stuck growing up in another universe without her.

I’ve talked to the others. I’ve talked to Greta. It helped. Somewhat. I think there’s some stuff I’m just going to have to work through on my own. But they all helped to get me moving in the right direction. Again.

But I’ll write more on that when we get to it. I have too much to say about it—better to write it all then rather than write in circles getting it down now and then again when it comes up later.

I went to visit Keisuke basically first thing in the morning. I put it off as long as I could—long enough for us to eat a meal at least and for me to try to think of any other reason we shouldn’t go. Which was ridiculous seeing as I was the one who had brought up to Nestian in the first place! But…I don’t know. Knowing we needed to help Nestian to get his mother back as soon as possible, and knowing I needed to do what I could to try to work this out peacefully despite how the others felt about Keisuke were two separate thoughts that just didn’t interact. They were both just as true.

So with Edeya and Nestian’s help, we teleported back to Artrosa, and made the trek back inside to the chamber housing the Eon Pit.

I asked the others to wait outside for me, until I gave Aenland a signal through the Stone of Farspeech. I didn’t want to spook Keisuke by coming into his demiplane with a group of people who were—besides Greta and Talsune—all hostile towards him. Thankfully, the others agreed to give me time to try to speak to Keisuke one last time.

So I entered the doorway leading into the Nonagon. After walking down a short hallway, I came up a flight of stairs and found myself at the exact spot I usually Plane Shifted into the Nonagon at. Keisuke had his back to me, but his ears shot up at the sound of someone entering his domain. He asked before he turned if it was me, to which I confirmed.

He dropped the spell he had been casting when I spoke. Anyone else would have gotten an immediate Death Clutch—deadly to anyone not as incredibly powerful as my friends and I, and still crippling to even someone more powerful. I apologized for sneaking up on him, which he brushed off, as he seemed almost giddy to reveal what he’d been working on. He kept saying all he’d needed were ‘the time and the place’—which it turns out is what he traded the King in Yellow for his services helping Kostchtchie. He learned about the location of some foreign spymaster’s underground bunker—the place. And the time he needed to attune this ritual to—a moment in which his cousin, the one with Mythic Power he’d told me about so long ago, died for just a short moment.

Keisuke admitted he was getting a bit ahead of himself, as I’d mentioned that I was there to talk about something. He offered a seat at his table and some tea, as always. I took a seat and accepted the warm drink, and explained to Keisuke the real reason I was there. I asked if—since they’d been so much trouble for him recently—I could take Nestian’s mother and her Eidolon off his hands. He regretfully told me that before the Nonagon was fixed that would have sounded like a tempting proposition, but as it was, he needed the Eidolon to complete his ritual. On top of that, removing her now would apparently rip off one of his tails, which was exactly as gruesome as it sounds. He was also concerned for his own safety given that Nestian’s mother had every reason to kill him, even if Nestian was willing to listen on my behalf.

The subject drifted as I tried to think if there was any way to salvage this. Keisuke asked me about our mission to kill Elvanna. If I was still planning to go through with it. What I got out of it. The most obvious answer was that I don’t want the world to be frozen over any more than most people living on Golarian who aren’t fanatic Winter Witches. I prefer not living in an arctic apocalypse—especially if I’m going to try to live forever. That sounds miserable. The world has a lot more to offer me if it’s thriving. Keisuke pointed out that I could survive Elvanna’s apocalypse in Grimm Labyrinthus, but I countered that there was only so much I could do in a demiplane. I know myself—I’m very much a creature of pleasures. I need to experience the highs of living—preferably with Greta at my side. Being holed up in a demiplane would drive me mad.

It was probably a bit rude to point this out to the man who has clearly been spending the majority of his time in a demiplane since the Elvanna of his world froze it over, but it’s not like I was trying to say he was in the wrong for doing that. Just that I wouldn’t choose that life myself.

Talking about that brought Keisuke around to talking a bit about his own universe, the one where Elvanna did win. He’d been marked from a young age as someone meant for greatness—his silver fur meant he was destined to be an oracle or, as it turned out, a shaman. Keisuke was ambitious even back then, and did whatever he had to in order to keep the power in his tribe that he’s been promised—including killing those who spoke against him, claiming he wasn’t using his position to properly speak for the dead.

And then it all came crashing down around him when Elvanna froze his world, destroying his tribe with it. Keisuke tracked down a hole in time—the same one Nestian and Peanut later used. Keisuke believed he was meant to be the first to go through it, but as it turned out his cousin had beaten him to it. She went through first, and in doing so gained everything he felt should have been his.

I asked Keisuke what he planned to do once he had mythic power—hoping for anything I could grab hold of and cling to that might just give me another chance to talk him into some sort of bargain to release Nestian’s family members.

What he said caused it all to come crashing down around me.

He said he would go back and get the friends he was meant to have. He would get the friends and the mythic power that were denied him in one fell swoop. The time and the place he’d been given represented an extremely brief moment in which his cousin had been killed—disintegrated—and he was going to throw his soul back to that moment and take her place when she was meant to be revived. He would be the one with mythic power. He would be the one with friends. He would be the hero. And his cousin would be nothing but a soul lost in the ether.

I knew then that I would have to call the others in, despite how much I desperately wanted any other outcome. He wouldn’t be dissuaded, this was something he’d been working towards for years—something he felt he was owed by the universe itself. And if he went through with what he wanted, he would be taking the place of some sort of mythic hero, and…I liked Keisuke, but he was no hero. It would be a disaster. I would hardly call myself a hero despite doing arguably heroic things for the others’ sake. But Keisuke wouldn’t even play hero for the sake of people he cared about…I don’t know if he knew how to care about someone like that. He wanted friends for the idea of the friends that he felt he was owed, not for what friends actually are.

If he’d wanted real friends, maybe he’d have actually appreciated how hard I tried to keep things from escalating to the point they did.

Keisuke told me that this ritual would take a while—it could be anywhere from 9 hours to 9 days to 9 months, it was hard to say. But he said he would release Nestian’s mother and the Eidolon to the edge of the Eon Pit once it was complete and he no longer needed them. This is what he considered being nice. It was *almost* a compromise, except when I asked him if they would be unharmed, I could tell that he was lying when he said they would be fine. And anything that would bring harm to Nestian’s family was not an acceptable outcome.

Keisuke wanted to start preparing his ritual, and he was going to have to turn on the Nonagon’s defenses, so it was time for me to leave. He commented that I should let him know next time I’m planning on dropping by, since he’d nearly killed me this time. I laughed it off, reminding him that I am a very difficult man to kill.

At the time his response was foreboding, if not puzzling. He agreed with me that I was, in a tone that felt to me like it implied he’d tried to kill me before and knew from experience I was good at escaping death. But that didn’t fit any part of the story I knew of our forgotten past, and it certainly didn’t fit any part of our meetings that I could actually remember.

It made me all the more certain of what I needed to do—like it or not.

I left the Nonagon and began down the hall, but didn’t walk all the way to the door. Instead, when I felt I was out of range of even Keisuke’s sharp hearing, I activated the Stone of Farspeech and let Aenland know that I’d failed, and that we would have to go with his plan instead.

Aenland actually gave his condolences that things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped, before his voice cut out, and a moment later he and the others burst through the door ahead of me. Nevra cast Haste and then began singing as she and Aenland flew past. Nestian pat me on the shoulder—at least I assume it was Nestian. I had closed my eyes, just breathing, listening to them fly towards battle, the start of Keisuke’s ritual in the distance, and then the familiar sound of the Nonagon’s musical alarm sounding as Keisuke’s recorded voice began singing. I steeled myself as I heard Keisuke yell my name, and that we needed to have a conversation. When I opened my eyes, I knew I would find Talsune and Roscoe waiting for me there. I sent Roscoe ahead, then climbed onto Talsune’s back. I’d steeled myself for what I had to do.

I think Talsune knew what I was feeling well enough to know that no words were going to help. Just then his presence, and his own emotions offsetting mine a little, were more than enough.

Then I heard a yelp from Greta echo down the hall, followed by Keisuke in alarm telling whichever of his minions harmed her not to target her again. He sounded like he was being genuine in his desire not to target me, Talsune, or Greta—or at least his desire to not upset me further by harming the two people he knew I was closest to, and who he probably believed were the most likely to side with me if I suddenly switched sides to fight with him.

I would have been willing to hear him out again. Maybe even give talking one more shot. I would have liked that, really. Except for what happened next.

Keisuke called to me that there was an explanation for what was going to happen next—and then he invoked the name of the Grimm Rider. I heard a far-too familiar voice, followed by the sound of Wail of the Banshee being cast. The flickers of dark magic I could see emanating just beyond the staircase were also far too familiar. Because that was my magic. And my voice. The same voice I’d heard through that recorded scry of the Grimm Rider on Triaxus. The same voice I’d heard when Mirror Edeya had me battle The Grimm Rider in her twisted mirror maze.

Talsune swooped up the stairs and flared his wings so we could stop just before a floor to ceiling rainbow colored barrier around what had been Keisuke’s table, where he’d been standing moments prior. Now as I looked up, it appeared as though Keisuke was towering over us. As if the interior of the Nonagon had been shrunk and flung onto a war map on his table.

I looked to where I had heard my voice, and sure enough, there was yet another imitation of myself in my ‘former glory’. What really caught my eye, however, was the door behind him. Like the others, when I’d looked at them last time I was in the Nonagon, this one was replaying the moment Keisuke had caused me the pain and anguish that would allow him to create a simulacrum of me.

Keisuke was standing before a council of cloaked figures, some wearing Norgorber iconography, some wearing Urgathoan symbols. The man who appeared to be the leader had both of our patron’s markings, and he gestured to me—then a Skeletal Champion—and gave the order for me to kill Baba Yaga and to not come back until I’d succeeded. So I turned and left, to do as I was commanded.

It was exactly as he’d described my banishment from his cult to me before.

And then the thin strings connecting Keisuke to his Flesh Puppet Horde snapped, and everyone else in the room went limp.

…

Quite a while ago now, Keisuke told me about how I’d been sent to kill Baba Yaga by his old cult. An obvious suicide mission, meant to get rid of me. He told me not to worry, he’d killed them all for it. They made excellent flesh puppets. He’d said it as if it were to avenge my inevitable death. As if he’d killed them in anger and vengeance over a lost apprentice.

But, no. I was ‘lost’ because of Keisuke. He had sent me on that suicide mission, he had tried to make sure I get destroyed in an impossible task. This is what he must have been alluding to when he’d agreed that I was a hard man to kill. Because he’d expected Baba Yaga to kill me for whatever attempt I made. He hadn’t expected me to game the system and get myself resurrected, to become her Rider, to gain more power than him. He hadn’t expected me to come back a year later with amnesia and no idea who he was, ready to listen to whatever half-truths he fed me.

I listened to him, kept secrets for him, let him very nearly guide me down a path of being someone just like him, believing for so long that he’d saved my life and that I owed my very existence to him. Just to find out I was nothing but a puppet whose strings he’d already tried to cut once before.

I don’t even know how to describe how I felt in the moment. It’s not like the fury I felt at Rasputin for having caused the death that wiped my memories. It wasn’t like the hatred and disgust I felt for Nazhena. It’s not like the distain and loathing I feel for Queen Elvanna.

I was angry. Oh yes, I was very angry. But there was also this aching sadness that gripped at my heart and made me feel hollow. It drew in the fire of my anger that usually encourages me to reap bloody vengeance on someone who’s wronged me, and left it cold.

I did not enjoy fighting Keisuke. I did not enjoy killing Keisuke. Even if my spells had been what snuffed out his life, I would not have offered this death up to either of our gods. Although I wonder if where he did die has its own House of Murder. Abbadon probably has him regardless.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Probably because I would rather not remember and write the gory details of this fight.

But…there are reasons I probably should continue to write every detail. Not because I think I’ll have amnesia again. I’ll get to that soon. I should quit putting off the rest of this.

When I saw the images from my forgotten past, Keisuke quickly tried to explain them away. He said it was fine, because I’d survived and I was stronger now because of it (true, but that doesn’t make what he did to me fine.) He argued that he could see the future and knew that I’d survive (he can, but he did not.)

I told him as much, that just because he can see the future doesn’t mean he foresaw this. He tried to get rid of me, he sent me to die.

Keisuke said fine, if it was going to be like that. He rescinded his protection for me, Talsune, and Greta. His simulacrums and undead would target us just as much as they would the others. Maybe more, if he was out to ‘teach me a lesson’.

Talsune flew us away from the Prismatic Walls, and we dove at a simulacrum that appeared to be of an aasimar with wings made of fire, holding aloft a holy symbol of the same (illegal) dead goddess Edeya had once been interested in. My partner brought his blade down on the woman wreathed in flames, while I took inspiration from her fire and called down an Ectoplasmic Firestorm, which set almost every one of our enemies—except the Grimm Rider, go figure—on fire.

I decided to try to do a bit more against this echo of my past and quickened a Boneshatter. He resisted enough to not have any major bones snap apart, but I definitely heard the telltale cracking from the spell that told me I’d left him with a few fractures.

Unfortunately, Keisuke decided he was going to try to break my favorite pet. There was an artifact in the first room—an artifact which looked like the strange little chip that I’d seen through the image on the 1st door when I’d been looking last time.

It’s almost funny, how I could have discovered what Keisuke did to me so much earlier if I hadn’t quit looking at the doors when I found Nestian’s dad. If I’d had any inkling that knowing what was behind the other two doors would be important to me, and I’d looked, I would have learned before we ever went to the Eon Pit. Maybe we could have done something about Keisuke without the Nonagon being at full power.

Oh well…too late for what-ifs.

When the artifact activated, it shot a Maximized Fireball right in the middle of Nestian, Greta, Edeya, and Roscoe. Nestian, Edeya, and Greta made it through just fine (I will always be grateful to my past self for thinking of gifting Greta that ring. My only regret would be not just proposing to her already. I’ll have to somehow get her an even better ring when I do.)

Roscoe was not destroyed, but he was badly singed, and Keisuke made it clear that breaking what belonged to me in response to us breaking his things was the goal now. I told him fine, because we were going to break a hell of a lot more of his things than he would of mine.

I would be unhappy if I lost Roscoe for good, though. He’s just objectively better than any other undead we’ve encountered. But I wasn’t going to let Keisuke know that or he’d have redoubled his efforts on destroying him.

I didn’t get much time to think about it, though, because a moment later Keisuke covered the entire room with a Wail of the Banshee. My Wail of the Banshee. He was leeching that spell from the simulacrum of me, it’s not that he was just casting a spell I like to use with his own magic, he was literally using my spell. It was a little strange having someone else (well someone other than The Grimm Rider) throwing around magic identical to mine. Usually spellcasters have their own flair, something about their spell is unique to them, as different as a fingerprint or a snowflake. But, other than whatever he had from being a Shaman I assume, everything he had was pilfered power. His spells didn’t have that consistency, that through-line, they were all someone else’s magic tacked on top of his own.

Talsune and I resisted, but I didn’t have much time to think about that either, because then the angel woman hit me with a Heal spell. I really should have worn the Pallid Crystal. I knew that Keisuke knew that weakness, but I just kind of assumed he didn’t have that kind of magic. He implied as much back when I assumed that he’d resurrected me as opposed to raising me as an undead.

But then again, who knows how true that comment was? Maybe he wanted to keep that particular advantage over me close to his chest. I’ll never know now.

Fortunately, before anyone else could try to kill me (namely myself—or the echo thereof), Edeya was able to get a Harm spell over to me and undid the damage the Heal spell did.

Unfortunately, it would be hard for her to get over to me to do that again if it became necessary, because a moment later Nestian’s mother’s eidolon burst through the door she had been held in. And she was under Keisuke’s command. She immediately went after Nestian—likely because Keisuke knew that would hurt him the worst. I could tell it was going to be a nasty bite—one that would rip and then immediately burn with the electricity crackling across her scales. I threw some raw magical protection between him and the eidolon—not quite the Black Rider’s protection, but an approximation using my own magic. Not as powerful, but strong enough to protect my friends when they needed it if I was nearby. Nestian didn’t have to be the only one taking care of everyone, and always get himself beaten up and bloodied in the process.

Keisuke derisively said that I’ve gone soft—that that’s what this was, he just needed to get rid of the others and I would snap out of it. I destroyed the tracks that train of thought was on immediately. I told him that he was desperately trying to go somewhere else to find the group of friends he was supposed to have—these were mine. So, to torture the metaphor, he changed tracks and decided if I wouldn’t come back to him while alive, then he would just kill me and keep me as an obedient undead again.

Man, at least Rasputin never threatened to keep me as a pet after I rejected him.

Afterwards the Grimm Rider went for me, trying to cast a spell—the casting looked like Destruction—but it struck Vigliv’s protections (something the simulacrum thankfully lacked). He then tried to Quicken a Boneshaker on me, but again hit my defenses. My bones blissfully unshaken. Keisuke said something about how he honestly didn’t expect any differently—the simulacrum was fighting his progenitor, it was only natural that a pale imitation couldn’t live up to the original. I’ll admit to being pleased to hear that, despite Keisuke and I being at each other’s throats right that moment. If nothing else, he still had some respect for my power, even if it was questionable if he had any respect for me.

It was hard to keep track of what was going on around the battlefield. The Prismatic Wall was blocking half the room off, so I couldn’t see what Aenland or Illivor were up to, nor the goblin simulacrum or the reaper that went after them. I did hear Keisuke howl in pain and see one tail get rent apart, so I assumed that one of them had killed one of the two simulacrums back there. Then I got to see one of the simulacra get killed—a woman with goggles and multiple flasks of red reactive looking fluids, who appeared to have been paralyzed by Roscoe, if the bullet holes and lack of attempt to dodge anything that was happening around her were any indication. So, another point for my favorite pet. Peanut finished her off while she couldn’t move…saying something about how ‘being mauled by a bear wasn’t on her list yet’?

When the simulacra died, Keisuke howled in pain again as another one of his tails went up in explosive flames. Solidifying the connection between the clones and his tails for anyone who, unlike me, hadn’t already been directly told by him that they were linked.

In response, Keisuke summoned a new undead into the fray. A fucking Demi-lich. I heard the familiar Wail of the Banshee screams, saw that Greta was in the middle of that once again and remembered how that fucking Demi-lich in my bag had hurt her before. I threw the protection of the Black Rider around her, the screams of the damned parting around the black barrier like a river flowing around a rock. Then I saw Aenland’s arrows absolutely obliterate the damned thing in an instant.

I saw the Grimm Rider take his eyes off me. He was looking where I knew Aenland must be, based on where I saw the arrows shoot from. He pointed, and spoke a single word in Necril laced with power.

Nestian cried out, and threw his own protection of the Black Rider around Aenland—muffling the word that would have otherwise snuffed out his life.

Talsune tore into the angelic woman in front of us, then flapped away so I could focus on casting. I turned the full force of my power on The Grimm Rider. My magic—Power Word Kill, Wail of the Banshee, Destruction, all of it—was far too dangerous to have Keisuke and this echo throwing it around at my loved ones in this fight.

So, I ripped my magic away from him. By ripping out the pale imitation’s heart.

Keisuke noted that we really do learn things from one another. I agreed. I had never claimed otherwise.

Then he said he was going to learn from me and turn that method right back on me, since it worked so well on my simulacrum. I fell right back into step with whatever this dance of words was, reminding him that—in his own words—it was just a pale imitation. I wouldn’t be going down so easily.

‘Oh, we’ll see,’ he threatened.

He used some sort of latent power from the Nonagon to shift the position of the simulacrum of Nestian’s father—which was already badly injured courtesy of Roscoe, who I’d set on him so Nestian wouldn’t have to be the one to slay something that looked like his own father. He moved it so it was next to the dying Grimm Rider. The False-Isaac tried to Regenerate the Grimm Rider’s heart—and he did make it grow back, but in the process the positive energy burned inside of his chest where his heart was regrowing, and he died regardless.

So that was horrific. I don’t particularly want to die in any manner, but I think I just found a top contender for worst ways to be killed. And that’s coming from me. I kill people I hate in horrible ways for fun.

A moment later, Nestian flew across the battlefield and tried to finish off the thing wearing his father’s face. But he hesitated at the last moment, and his swing went wide.

So, it wasn’t Nestian who killed the fake Isaac.

It was Edeya.

She used a Quickened Dimension Door and appeared beside Nestian. She pulled him into a hug, so that his head was turned away as she gently said a few words—and the simulacrum slumped to the ground, falling peacefully dead and into a fine red dust as Edeya used Power Word Kill.

The effect it had on Keisuke was anything but peaceful, as two more of his tails tore apart. A moment later Keisuke howled with rage and pain as another unraveled—right before Aenland flew around the corner on Nevra’s back, soaked in his own blood and covered in cuts and burns, and enough blood coming out of his nose that I worried his brain itself was bleeding.

I called Roscoe over—he circled around to avoid the still dominated Eidolon, and landed near Nevra. Talsune and I flew over to meet them. I cast a Quickened Oracle’s Vessel on Aenland, then cast a Mass Inflict Critical Wounds on myself, Roscoe, and Aenland. It was enough to completely heal my wounds, but Roscoe and Aenland still looked like a stiff breeze might do them in. Fortunately for Aenland, he was near Edeya, and she patched him up with her more potent healing magic.

Then that strange artifact activated again, shooting another maximized Fireball at us. Most of us were fine—except for Roscoe, who looked like he was about to be engulfed in flames and likely meet his end, until Nestian threw his Helm of Teleportation to Roscoe—with an extra kick from his Black Rider powers—sending Roscoe safely back into my bag. Preventing Keisuke from having the pleasure of breaking my ‘toy’, and preventing me from losing my favorite pet. I thanked Nestian profusely later.

At the time Keisuke mocked me for going to so much trouble for a ‘broken bag of bones’, but I pointed out that he was a very useful broken bag of bones. Keisuke conceded the point, noting that after this he might see about getting a Baykok of his own—or taking mine. I told him over my dead body—and he wasn’t doing a very good job of that.

Despite his big words, it was clear that he was in a corner, and he knew it. He only had three tails left—and a moment later that was down to two when Nestian’s aunt, the Eidolon, broke free from Keisuke’s domination, and she and Nestian’s mother fused into one being and began tearing apart the Prismatic Walls. She disrupted the first one by throwing some sort of rounded object into it.

While she worked on that, I asked Edeya if she could identify the strange artifact that kept blasting us—assuming its destruction might help with taking down the walls. Edeya asked Illivor to look, as she was closer. Illivor glanced in, identified multiple Explosive Runes, and threw a Greater Dispel Magic into the room to nullify them all.

With the room now safe, I directed Talsune to get us in there and to smash that chip before Keisuke could activate any other defenses we didn’t know about. My partner did without a word from me, knowing my intention as quickly as it entered my mind. He plucked the small object from its stand—it looked almost like it could be a piece of technology from Numeria. A vision washed over him—and by extension me. Keisuke was somewhere in the mountains of Varisia, in a place piled with gold. He picked up the artifact, and when he did the room rumbled and a booming voice spoke to him. Keisuke fled in terror—but Talsune was a master of his own mind, and didn’t let Keisuke’s terror in the vision seep into him. He closed his fist and crushed the chip.

For the first time, Talsune and I were near one of these objects of Keisuke’s when they were destroyed. All of the suffering contained within that artifact—whatever it had once been—burst forth, trying to engulf myself, Talsune, and unfortunate Illivor who had still been a little too close when we’d swooped in.

We all withstood the onslaught, and as we did Keisuke once again howled in pain and anger and fear as he’s now lost all but one tail. The last one that must have been his original—he wasn’t born a nine-tailed kitsune at all, he’d simply stylized himself as one as he gained power. Not that I can judge him on that, with all I’ve done to style myself differently than the life I was born to. That’s just…ambitions for greatness. I don’t think that by itself is a bad thing. It’s the things he did to reach ‘greatness’ that put us on such different paths.

Destroying the chip also destroyed two more Prismatic Walls—just like I’d predicted. Nestian’s mother had already knocked down one wall, and Aenland did…something. It’s hard to say what. I know he used the luck blade, and I know it worked. But I think he might have toyed with time or something? Because on the one hand I feel like I remember the wall starting with nine layers—which fits, because Keisuke. But at the same time I feel like I remember only seven layers when I came up the stairs. And we only ended up destroying seven layers in total.

Anyways, I turned around and took out a diamond from my bag, and cast a Miracle through it. Out of the faceted sides of the diamond, the different spells needed to take down a Prismatic Wall were cast all at once—burning a bunch of scrolls we had on our person as payment in the process. When the diamond crumbled away, that was one less wall. Nestian’s mother cast a spell—I have no idea what she cast, if I didn’t know any better I’d say it was modified through an object like my pocket watch, because the spell didn’t fit any spell I know of. Maybe it was specific to her universe—although I don’t think I’ve ever seen Keisuke use magic that wasn’t in some way recognizable on Golarian.

What she did was…well, it looked like the threw the wall into space. That is the best way I can describe it, even though we were in a Demiplane and the concept of space in a place not directly connected to the material plane is a bit nebulous. Regardless of how she did it, it did get rid of another wall.

And I think Keisuke panicked as we were ripping straight through his defenses to reach him.

He used his luck blade twice to cast a non-existent spell—Mass Harm. I wish there was a Mass Harm, that would be really convenient for me. I guess I could apparently use Miracle to make a Mass Harm, but then I’d need a diamond for it every time and at that point I might as well just let someone die and resurrect them.

…My life is very strange that ‘Mass Harm’ would be more likely to be used for mass healing than for actually ‘harming’ anyone. If I wanted to harm a bunch of people I’d just use Wail of the Banshee, or Massacre, or Fire Storm, or Horrid Wilting…you get my point. I have a lot of ways to kill a lot of people at once. My best way to heal a lot of people at once is significantly weaker than Harm.

The final diamond of his Luck Blade he used to try to force his ritual to successfully complete early.

And it worked.

The Nonagon vanished, nothing but the room the blank simulacrum had been in was left. Only the blank simulacrum standing in the replica of some spymaster’s safehouse was now replaced by a silver haired woman, the remains of a green ray hitting her chest, and her body turning to dust. This was no longer the replica of the room, or the simulacrum. It was the time and the place that Keisuke was trying to fling himself into.

And Keisuke was running down a long hall towards it. We ran after him.

Edeya and Illivor acted first, our resident witches always the smart ones. They both stripped away his defenses with as many uses of Greater Dispel Magic as they could throw in the blink of an eye.

Talsune dove forward. He knew I wanted to reach Keisuke first. I let go of Talsune, trusting him to hold me aloft, as I pulled out the pocket watch. The pocket watch that once belonged to Keisuke, but which I pulled from the Eon Pit and have made my own. I channeled Slay Living through it, and even as Talsune’s blade skewered him, my touch was gentle. I was not aiming for a horrific death. Not this time.

The ritual seemed to have a strange effect on Keisuke’s personal time. The injuries were there, but formed across his body so painfully slowly. The dark flames of Slay Living that normally devoured a body in seconds instead danced across his red-stained white fur for what felt like an eternity.

I knew I couldn’t let him escape—not when I had no idea what might be at stake if he replaced his cousin as one of these mythic ‘heroes’. So I quickened an inflict critical wounds, remembering that he’d once mentioned he didn’t have my gift. The black and purple flames joined and intermixed with the almost ebony flames of Slay Living, twisting together in a dance of death and decay.

Keisuke looked over his shoulder at me. For once I don’t know what emotion I was reading in his eyes. Hate? Fear? Disappointment? Anger? Resignation? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

I told him I was sorry, that I wished this could have ended differently.

It wasn’t a lie. Despite everything, despite how much he hurt me, despite knowing how much he lied, despite all the things he said during this fight…I still didn’t want to kill him. That anger at him was a pile of barely glowing coals and ash by this point, seeing him like this. I couldn’t find it in myself to reach for that burning indignation and thirst for retribution that normally comes so naturally to me.

I don’t know what I wanted to do instead. I don’t think I had any realistic vision of another way forward until I talked to Greta later. I just know that despite everything, it tore at my heart to kill this man.

The others joined in my attack, equally unwilling to risk his escape despite not truly knowing the extent of the consequences like I did. I hadn’t had a chance to tell them what Keisuke told me. All they knew was that he was getting away, and that he’d completed some sort of ritual. They had no idea the full implications of what he was about to do.

For once, I suppose, it was fortunate that Aenland and Nestian were not going to hesitate to attack Keisuke.

Greta was the first to follow up on Talsune’s attack, however. When she pulled away from the strange time anomaly happening around Keisuke, she laid a hand over mine—still white knuckle clutching the pocket watch like a lifeline. No words needed—she was there for me, and she knew that this had not come easily to me unlike most deaths we’d caused. That was more than enough.

The others did what had to be done, with Nevra, Aenland, and Nestian finishing the job in quick succession. Time around Keisuke seemed to start to catch up to him, and I was sure that was the end of it.

But then his form flickered, the familiar displaced from time effect of a Temporal Status overtaking him before the spreading damage could snuff out his life entirely. I recognized a Contingency spell when I saw one—even if I don’t remember the time I saved myself from death by similar means.

However while he was frozen in time, the woman behind him finished dissolved into nothing but a fine dust, and the image of that other place faded away. He’d missed the time. The ritual was over. But with one final push Keisuke popped out of Temporal Stasis, alive but weakened, and stepped through that distorted point of reality into…somewhere else. He looked exhausted. Weak. I don’t think he had a single drop of magic left in him. He swore he would start from the bottom, and build his power up from scratch if that’s what it took. And then he’d come back for us. For me. To avenge himself of everything we’d just taken from him.

He never got a chance…he’ll never get the chance.

Keisuke was so focused on us through the rift in time and space that he didn’t see the man standing behind him. He’d stepped into what looked like some sort of golden casino, and behind him was a finely dressed man. Wielding a flaming glaive. The last I saw of Keisuke was a look of surprise as that glaive cut him down. The man muttered something about the number of temporal anomalies crossing through lately, before the portal snapped shut.

Keisuke’s body was left bleeding out and already dead in some other universe, out of reach.

There wasn’t time to think about it, as the entire Nonagon began to shake. I remembered that early in our fight Keisuke had told us that if we killed him, the Nonagon would break down and take us with it. I’d said then that I’d need to have a Plane Shift ready for when that happened. And I did…and as luck would have it, once Illivor returned to her fox form and her bond with Edeya reinstated itself, there were nine of us.

Because of course there were.

So I cast the spell through the pocket watch. I brought this to a close in a perfect circle, as I used the tool that once belonged to this man who caused so much death and hurt for my friend, and his family, and the people around them, and this time used it to save us all from his own crumbling Demiplane.

I took us to the safest place I could think of in the moment. Home. Grimm Labyrinthus. My own Demiplane. Maybe not as technically intricate as the Nonagon had been. Certainly not built siphoning power from the Eon Pit. But it is mine. Ours. And it is perfect.

I was more drained emotionally than physically when we arrived. I’d honestly not used that many spells, and I wasn’t that badly hurt—although I would need to expend quite a bit of negative energy later to patch Roscoe up. But in the moment, I was just…tired. And sad. And I wasn’t even entirely sure why I was sad. Was it because I’d found out that Keisuke had been lying the entire time, or because I was mourning that we had to kill him? The fact I’d been right, in a way, that what he needed were friends like the ones I’d had? Only he was too blinded by his own desires and obsessions to see it. Some strange mesh of all of these things?

I called Edeya, Aenland, and Nestian over, and just hugged them. I felt like I might pass out, but I held it together (although Nestian’s fur was very cozy). I don’t know what I was trying to say, really.

No. No, that’s a lie, I do know.

I just…wanted them to know I care. That they mean more to me than I can express. That…I’m grateful to have known them, because if I hadn’t I may well have stood with Keisuke today and let something terrible happen, for the sake of power, and for the sake of a friend who wanted nothing more than to erase anything we might have had, believing there was something more out there just for him.

I still can’t bring myself to be mad. I think I kind of pity him. I think I see a very dark mirror when I look at everything he did, and would have done. Not of the Grimm Rider, not this time. But of who I could have been without the others. All that power and no one to care about, to give me a reason to choose something more important than reaching endlessly for more power. No Aenland to call me out when I go too far, or lie to his face, or choose a path that scares him because he knows it ends in self-destruction. No Nestian to…quite frankly not want to disappoint. I’m more afraid of doing something that disappoints Nestian than something that makes him angry. I know I can handle an angry bear in my face. I can’t handle his soft-spoken disappointment. And no Edeya, my fellow Irriseni, my fellow spellcaster. She was the one I felt I had so much in common with when we first started, my confidant when I didn’t trust Aenland and Nestian with my secrets, and look how much she’s changed. She’s learned to be decisive, but she’s also so kind, and so gentle. And…I respect that about her. I could never…would never…limit myself the way she does. Yet she’s decided to do what she feels is the right thing to do, unabashedly, regardless of any jokes we make about her unusual take on pacifism. And she has still found a way to be an amazing witch even with her self-imposed limitations. I think…she’s set a really good example for me.

And, of course, there’s Greta. I don’t think, even with the other three, anything would have changed without Greta giving me that first nudge in the right direction. Being honest with her back in Whitethrone right before we fought Logrivich was one of the hardest, most terrifying things I have ever done. And it was the best decision of my life.

I know Nestian believes Keisuke and I are fundamentally different, but I think he just had the good fortune to have seen me at my best instead of at my worst. Even early on, before I liked or trusted the others, I still knew we were in this together and that I needed to at least act within a range of what they’d consider decent to keep this alliance we’d agreed to in Baba Yaga’s name running smoothly. But I also know for a fact I killed at least a few people in our early fights that Nestian wanted to spare, just because I saw no point in showing mercy to people who might come back and cause problems later. I think I would make a different decision now—I would respect Nestian’s wishes and his logic more than I did back then. I am sure I would still point out that keeping enemies alive might cause us more trouble in the long run—we have to take everything into consideration—but if in this theoretical situation Nestian understood that potential consequence and still wanted to be merciful, I would at the very least do my best to spare them for his sake. Although at this point I think Edeya is the one more likely to be the first to suggest nonviolent means.

Nestian and Edeya went off to make lunch to lighten the mood a bit and give me some time to process things. Aenland lingered for a moment. We talked. He said he’d give me space if I needed it, but he was here for me. He called me his brother. I thanked him to sticking by me, even though I’d been a bit of an ass to him early on. He said he could easily say the same to me. But what’s family for? I agreed, clasping his hand.

Just what I need, to go from being an only child to having a younger brother who is also over a hundred years older than me.

Afterwards I retreated with Greta to our room. I just laid there with her for a long time, in comfortable quiet. After a while I talked to her about how I didn’t even know why I was so upset, because logically I knew Keisuke had been a terrible person who hurt Nestian and his family, and was honestly kind of awful to everyone else around me. We talked a little about how I felt he was like that because he hadn’t had the same fortune I had, to have people around him who loved him enough to stop him. Then Greta said something that set the wheels spinning in my head, about how if I really wanted to give him a second chance, there was always Baba Yaga’s wish. At first it seemed like an immediate dead end—the others wouldn’t be ok with me bringing Keisuke back after everything he’d done and everything that had happened. But Greta pointed something else out. What if he got a fresh start when he came back. Like I had.

And she was absolutely right. If the Grimm Rider had come back like I’d planned when I’d convinced Rasputin to kill me in Taldor with a contingency spell in place, then I wouldn’t be who I am today. The Grimm Rider wouldn’t have teamed up with the others—or if he did it wouldn’t have been as equals. It took me starting over and rediscovering my power alongside my friends to become more than I was.

…

…I’m going to be giving up a lot if I go through with this. If I don’t take this opportunity for Mythic Power, another one probably won’t ever show itself. Keisuke’s ritual was to shunt his soul through time and puppet another person’s body and use their mythic power, rather than having a mythic ascension of his own, so I learned more about how not to get Mythic Power from him than how to get it.

And if I don’t get mythic power, it’s unlikely that I will find a means of immortality. Lichdom was a bust, and whatever Keisuke had going on with that artifact can’t be replicated since we broke it.

There’s no guarantee it’ll even work. I might bring Keisuke back, try to do right by him, and he’ll still turn out as a manipulative murderous bastard…well, more of a manipulative murderous bastard than I am. Then what? If he just goes right back to hurting my friends again, do I have to put him down a second time? If I bring him back I’ll be shouldering the responsibility for what he does.

Ugh. Responsibility is not something I have ever gone looking for. That’s why I told Greta I was never going to try to take over the world or even a country, regardless of how much power I get. Once you have it, what then? You have to manage running a country (or every country), that’s what. Sounds awful.

…

It’s so obvious that one of these things has so many more guaranteed upsides than the other, and one of these things had so many more unknown variables and could just blow up in my face all over again. And for once it’s not Mythic Power that’s the iffy option.

So why in the Nine Hells am I actually considering this?

…

I know why.

I had this chance. I wouldn’t be who I am today without this chance. I wouldn’t have everything I have today without this chance. Sure—I’d have the Grimm Rider’s power still. But what else would I have? Maybe I’d have made an empty demiplane with nothing but undead to lord over, just like Keisuke. Hell, for all I know the Grimm Rider did have a demiplane I simply don’t remember that will remain abandoned forever now. But beyond that, I’d have had nothing. Power, a wish from Baba Yaga, and isolation—because like Baba Yaga said, there was only one person that Calio Caecos trusted. Himself. I have so much more than the Grimm Rider ever did—I had to lose everything to get it, but now I am so much more than I was before.

I want Keisuke to have that same chance. Even if he turns around and screws me over again…at least I could say I tried. At least I could say he actually had that chance, and if it goes wrong again this time it’s all on him.

…I’m going to want some more time to think this through. Not to talk myself out of it, per-se. More…because I’m emotional right now. I am feeling about a dozen things at once, and it’s hard for any one feeling to come to the forefront at any given moment. I feel a whirlwind of emotions and a hollow empty place at the same time. It’s…a lot. I’m not going to make such a big decision like this while I’m in this headspace. Better to wait out the storm. We probably still have…what, a few more days before we kill Queen Elvanna? That…won’t be enough time to get over it, but it should be enough time for me to get my head on straight enough to really think this decision through.

Speaking of wishes, I finally had an opportunity to tell Greta about Baba Yaga’s offer of a second wish—one that had to go to someone else. Obviously, Greta was my first choice from the moment our kindly grandmother told me it couldn’t be for myself. I think ‘whatever your heart desires’ is a pretty good gift. Maybe a little behind ‘a ring that protects against fire’. But what can I do? You don’t outdo the classics.

Afterwards we decided to go back to the dining hall to see what Nestian had made for everyone.

Unfortunately, this extremely long day was quite literally only just beginning (Greta told me not to look at the clock so I just know in my heart what time it was.) While I was having a delicious meal with my family after a fucking awful day, my emotional state finally approaching an approximation of stable after Greta and my talk, I got a sending. From A’pul’a, that weird mythic plant person we met in the sewers who has technically killed Illivor twice now.

They apparently forgot to tell us something important. We needed to go to the royal cemetery immediately. Because someone was trying to create a new Crone Queen. And they asked me specifically not to ruffle the feathers of their bird friend—because he’s a Pharasman.

Of-fucking-course he’d be a Pharasman. Because this day couldn’t get any worse.

#pathfinder #reign of winter #journal entry #warning ahead of time this is a long one #it's 15 pages long #I wrote the first draft in a state of hyperfocus for 12 hours a few days ago #it's one of the few I didn't post immediately and actually went back and edited so it should be a little more polished than usual

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supercimi · 2 years ago

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my kitten

(to anyone who maybe scrolling this is not a story nor is it a rant but its written for myself by me so skip if you want)

my little cute kitty who i miss very dearly i hope you're okay wherever you've gone to, we've searched for you for the past week yet we still can't find you,but I'm still hoping that you're alive and well somewhere even if it's not by my side.

i wish i had petted you more, i wish i had played with you more.

i wish i had looked out for you more.

i know there's sadly millions of lost cats out there other than you, i know i still have your siblings, i know that you getting lost doesn't mean you're gone (i pray it doesn't) i know that maybe life outside would be better for you than our small home and you might even find a better home to stay at. knowing how charming you are that wouldn't be so far fetched... still, i will never stop missing you.

although my family doesn't completely believe me I think your brothers miss you too.

you all are such mischievous and energetic little kittens you kept running all over the place playing tag with each other and with others, stealing snacks or playing in any box you'd find like it's some kind of jungle or something and you my kitten would even steal lollipops or candy from us! you even managed to gnaw it open and munch on it! i hope you're not eating anything weird wherever you may be it can't be good for you!

you know .. your brothers aren't as energetic as before.

they don't play a lot anymore, they also became more close to each other and if one is not there the other mews until he finds him or he mews back... you used to really hate it and mew loudly if your siblings were in one room and you were alone in another even if I'm with you...maybe they picked it up from you?

sometimes they don't eat much... or maybe that's just me putting too much on their plates? haha

i didn't get used to putting just two portions of kitten food yet...

my little kitten i know it's dangerous out there but i pray with all my heart that you will be alright and be well fed and safe.. and i know its simply my selfishness and I know it's not good to be so insistent... still i pray that you will come back home to us.

and even if you don't come back I will always love you and pray for your safety.

#..this is... sadly not a story I'm writing or drabble i wrote.. its more like a diary entry so its OK if anyone coming across this skips it #i... still haven't lost hope! i.. know it may be just false hope that I'm believing and only god knows what happened to her... still #i this hope is what's keeping me going #this belief that god will be guiding her to safety is what's helping me the most #even though we posted ads and searched for so long we still can't find her.. but i believe in him and i believe that she will be okay #.... i actually started writing this post as a draft in the third day since she got lost...#but i hated to even think to give up so i decided to wait for a week who knows she might come back right?#but she is still lost.... she still didn't come back #and I'm absolutely not giving up on her coming back! i didn't write this to give up...#i... just wanted to sort out my feelings....#today happens to be the day she got lost a week ago and also the day I'm worried about something happening to someone i care about #....them and my cat both of them are dear but far from me...#it makes me sad that i can't do more...#i will keep looking and believing as i always have #I'm not giving up #because I love them so I hope they'll be okay

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archaeren · 6 months ago

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How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

#creative writing #writers block #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #writerscommunity #fanfic writing #writeblr #writing advice

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confused-pyramid · 8 months ago

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Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x fem!reader #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you

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kingghoost · 2 months ago

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Posting this Cybertronian Ratchet design because all the drawings I have ready forward use/reference it ^^

I made it awhile ago and it may not be super creative, but I actually didn't wanna change his design too much to portray how he himself doesn't change as a person (not in a bad way, he holds firmly to his beliefs and has a strong character💞)

I wrote a little backstory, too!! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

" Long before the war, Ratchet was one of the many medics stationed in Kaon with the task of nursing fallen gladiators back to health. Though he was considered the best, many feared his temperamental attitude, especially his own patients. Despite the coincidence, Megatronus and Ratchet had never actually interacted face to face, although they were aware of each other's existence. That is, until they had both been introduced through their mutual friend, Orion Pax.

With the little free time he had, Ratchet was one to frequently travel to Iacon to visit the Hall of Records, whether to spend his time reading or doing research on personal projects. Then, he met Orion at his workplace, and the two quickly formed a strong bond. When they weren't hanging out in person, they would keep contact via comms (sorta like online friends.) One fateful day, Orion had taken some time off of work to visit Ratchet in Kaon, coincidentally at the same time Megatronus had started to make a name for himself and his cause. This resulted in him witnessing one of Megatronus' speeches live, thus allowing them to meet and form a partnership as well.

In a way, Orion Pax changed Ratchet. Being surrounded by corruption and oppression from the caste system where it was at its worst, Ratchet had given up any hopes of a better Cybertron. However, Orion's altruistic nature inspired him, guided him to prove his mettle in the Great War, and binded him to Orion's—now Optimus'—side for millennia, and many more to come. "

Corny? I'm not sure. The writing's not all that good because of its age, but getting the point across is all that matters..

I really love the idea of a Kaonian Ratchet 💞💞

Ratchet being an indirect cause to Orion and Megatronus meeting is super interesting to me as well... do you think after all that happened, he feels at fault? In the episode where Ratchet was telling everyone about Optimus' backstory, he seemed to have nothing but bad things to say about Megatron, so they probably never got along since the beginning...

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp ratchet #optiratch #kinda #maccadam #maccadams

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leclarifies · 2 months ago

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i love you. it's ruining my life. (MV33)

✰ max verstappen x popstar!ex!reader ✰

summary: you and max have been broken up for four years now, going no contact for the entirety of those years. never bothering to contact eachother but he invites you to one of his races one day after the last show of your tour, who were you to say no?

genre: angst (im sorry)

wc: 3k

a/n: AHHH, THIS WAS WAS A DOOZY!!!!! i loved writing this (i mostly just like hurting myself more than anything). kind of dark themes tho, ooc max bc he vvv loving and would never cheat on his lover. thank you so much for 100 followers btw!!!!!! i wrote this as a 100 follower special :3 thank you so much for my supporting my short journey as a tumblr writer, you guys inspire me to write even more for you guys. can you imagine that's it's been a week of writing and i've already gained 100 followers?? i love you guys so much.

warnings: mentions of existing relationship with kelly, cheating

"thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up. another fortnight lost in america." - taylor swift, 'fortnight'

isn't it ironic that careers can really separate you from what truly made you, you? being a popstar, touring for months on end, surrounding yourself with new people, new opportunities, made it hard for you to reconnect with the people that helped you from day one.

it wasn't like you cut them off, or stopped talking to them. you tried. you really tried, but sometimes life goes on and people forgive and forget. your old life before you started your career was slowly being etched away and replaced with new pieces.

and maybe that was a bad thing.

"on stage in 2 minutes," a voice snapped you out of your trance, you looked up. you looked amazing in your sparkly dress, it was the last leg of your tour and you were touring in europe.

you had been offered to attend a formula one race this weekend after all of your shows had been concluded, you've been thinking about it, but you're not sure you want to go. one of the people from said past was in attendance and you're not sure if you wanted to immerse yourself in that again.

you didn't think about it for long though, you were due for a show and a show was what you're going to give.

it wasn't long until the weekend, friday to be exact and you had accepted the offer of being on the formula one paddock, you knew that a certain ex-boyfriend was going to be there, racing on the track and you were invited personally by him, which was why you were so skeptical to go.

POPSTAR Y/N BREAKS UP WITH F1 DRIVER MAX VERSTAPPEN.

you remembered the headlines, you remembered what you let go of but seeing someone you still loved after your break up almost four years ago stung a little bit.

you couldn't blame him though, you were the one to break things off all those years ago. it wasn't because you had a terrible relationship with him, but it was more because you both didn't have time for eachother and you could see it in his face everytime you came home to monaco after a long show.

"i miss you, when can you finally stay and actually stay awhile?" max's face looked pitiful and you could only look down at your feet, you felt guilty. you wanted this career, he pushed you for this career but sometimes you wished that you could split yourself in two to cater to both his needs and yours.

you look back up at him, locking eyes with his stormy blue eyes, "i don't know maxie, maybe next month? i don't really have a schedule for next month, i can stay in monaco with you for awhile—"

"you said that last month, when are you actually going to be free schatje?"

"max, i can't give you a definite timeline—"

"what's the point of me being in a relationship with you when i can barely see you?"

it hurt to hear those words come out of his mouth.

maybe that's when you finally realized that he deserved someone normal, someone who wasn't a famous singer and could actually spend time and be there for him.

but here you were, amidst the paddock with a singular security guard because you didn't think you needed more than one, considering security around the paddock was tight in of itself.

the red bull's garage had been nice to you, offering you anything you possibly could need while being on a grand prix, you had politely declined any type of special treatment though, wanting to feel like a person for once in your life.

you wouldn't say your job is the hardest in the world, never. doing what you loved while meeting all of your fans was going to be the highlight of your day, but sometimes the job came with crazy fans that would invade your privacy for selfish reasons, and it made you a tiny bit stressed.

you remember starting out from the netherlands, starring in small gigs before getting signed to a mega corporation in america, which was when you moved. you slowly lost contact with your friends, but you were sure they were proud of you although you weren't proud that you lost contact with them.

you knew that if you contacted them that it would be awkward, there was just no way they would even remember you, right?

you were walking about aimlessly around the paddock, it was free practice day which meant that after the allotted time of the free practice, drivers were free to roam around the paddock however they wanted. you were scared on what you had to face today.

you told yourself to just keep calm, take whatever you got this weekend and just react like a sane person.

saturday came and went, you attended the paddock to watch the qualifying session, of course, max came out on top. was it even a surprise to you? you knew he was the best of the best, you never expected less of him, even after all these years.

sunday was here and maybe it was the anxiety, but you felt like throwing up when you saw max approach you.

"y/n, it's good to see you."

god, those eye-smiles. you could never get tired of them.

"hi max, congrats on starting out pole for this weekend," you told him as you shook hands with him, he was all smiles.

it felt good to see him happy.

"how has the paddock been treating you?" max asked, gesturing all around him, "have you tried the food? it's really good."

you nod as you let go of his hand, clasping it with your other hand, a nervous habit, "yeah, the food's good. how have you been? i haven't talked to you in awhile," a nervous laugh bubbled up from your throat, you were nervous to see him, maybe it was those damn butterflies in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of when he looked at you with those blue eyes of his.

"i know, you've been quite busy right?" max laughed at you, he felt silly conversing with his ex-girlfriend like this, like they didn't have a past.

you could only nod and smile back at him, shoulders tense, "yeah, touring's been eventful. it's the last leg of the tour so i decided to come, thank you for the invite by the way, i really appreciate—"

"max, who's this?" a voice came from behind you, quite condescending if you did say so yourself, cutting you off, you turned your head around to see his girlfriend and his girlfriend's child coming into view, walking towards max and wrapping max with her arm as a possessive embrace.

max kissed her cheek, and that hurt. you didn't want to know why, but you knew. he spoke up afterwards, "this is y/n, she's a singer. i wanted her to come because she had a show here, thought the timing was quite convenient for her. y/n, this is my girlfriend, kelly piquet. she's a model."

you extended your hand as a form of hello before introducing yourself, "hello, i'm y/n—"

"yeah, i know who you are," kelly cut you off again, you were quite taken aback by the hostility, your hand left hanging but then again, max was talking to one of his ex-girlfriends. you thought you would react the same way, so you didn't take it too much to heart. her face was something you'd describe as an angry, possessive tiger, brows furrowed, frown on full display.

"i didn't mean to take time away from your boyfriend. i was just having a little chat pre-race," you tried to give her a smile while returning your hand back to your side, but kelly was adamant about standing her ground.

little penelope was looking at you like she had stars in her eyes, you smiled at her. as if it was a sign of whether she should speak up, she starting speaking to you directly, "hi, i really love your songs. do you think you can stay in the red bull garage and we can take pictures together?"

you giggle and bend down to her level and pat her head, "hi little p, of course we can take pictures together— that's if your mother lets me," you acknowledged that this little girl was no ordinary little girl and was your ex-boyfriend's girlfriend's child.

"can we all talk in private please?" kelly excused the three of them away before you could even give her a response but you understood her. standing back up before walking off deeper into the paddock.

MAX'S POV

"i don't understand why you would invite her!" kelly was pacing around the motorhome, here we were fifteen minutes before race start and here my girlfriend was still yelling over something that happened two hours ago.

"kelly, i just thought it was a good idea. i wanted to invite her because i know p was such a big fan of hers—"

"she's your ex for god's sake, max!" kelly yelled out yet again, "why would i ever approve of her coming to one of your races? let alone be near to p??" her pacing was more feverish now, like she was scared.

i could only sigh, honestly i wasn't too worried about this problem at the moment. the only thing on my mind was the race and only the race.

"look, can we talk about this when i've finished with my race? i really need to focus and you keeping me locked up in here isn't going to help with it," i stood up from my seat, i didn't want to hear anything else come out of her mouth other than a 'okay' and letting me walk out of here.

"don't you think our relationship is at stake here—?"

"if you don't let me go out into the garage, then we're nothing kelly," i say with finality, i wasn't going to let her ruin a race, "i told you, we will solve and talk about this issue later, but you chose to lock me up in here. there will be nothing to salvage if you don't let me do my job."

kelly wordlessly stepped out of the way of the door and let me go, thankfully just with enough time where i could run down and get into the garage, getting me in racing gear.

thankfully the red bull mechanics and officials were understanding enough to let me rush and get inside of my car, getting into the chasis just at the right moment where we would need to drive out.

it was going to be a fine race for me. i knew it. i had enough confidence in myself to know whether i could win a race, and this was one of them.

"and that's p1 max, great race," gp was in my ear, i was proud of myself for winning, but kelly was gnawing the back of my mind. although, the first face i saw when i got out of the car was y/n's.

it felt like my heart stopped beating, i thought i got rid of those stupid butterflies ages ago, but nothing ever beat seeing her smile after i finished a race. she looked so beautiful, so ethereal but i washed those thoughts out of my head.

i had a girlfriend.

i can't run up and hug her because she's my ex. i have a loving relationship in front of me. what was i thinking?

kelly was nowhere to be found in the celebratory pit, i thought that maybe she was still too angry to face me at the moment. it stung a little bit, but she'll get over it. i'm sure.

the night moves on fast, and somehow i found myself still in the garage fixing a few things with the sim, most of the mechanics and staff were long gone. with kelly nowhere to be found. sometimes i felt bad, for still harboring feelings for an ex that left me four years ago.

my relationship with her felt so different with kelly's...

she was like fresh air you would breathe after exiting a club in the middle of the night, the smoke that clouded the air dissipating almost instantly after that fresh air hit your lungs. somehow, even four years later i still find her in little things i do everyday.

against my better judgement, i picked up my phone and i gave her a call.

"hello?"

i breathed out a sigh of relief when i realized she hadn't changed her phone number yet.

"it's me," were the words that left my lips, "you wanna come celebrate with me tonight?" i was picking on my jeans, i didn't want her to say no. i just wanted to spend a little time with her.

"what about your girlfriend? isn't she going to be even more upset with you—"

"can we not talk about her right now?" i closed my eyes and leaned back against the chair i was sitting on, hearing her voice again after a long time just... it felt right.

"max..."

"don't... just don't. i know what you're gonna say and i know it's wrong but i just... i can't do this today. i just won today and the first face i saw was yours, she didn't bother to show up. you can't tell me how to feel, y/n," i rubbed my temples, "meet me in the lobby of my hotel tonight. i just wanna see you."

"if i say okay, will this be a one-time thing?" y/n asked, i could hear the soft rustles of her moving things around, she was probably already in her hotel, resting from her tour when i had called.

"better yet, just drop the address of where you're staying. i'll come to you."

the first thing max did when he saw you was crash his lips into yours, you wanted to push him away, be the better person and tell him that he has a girlfriend but your arms couldn't do it.

your lips disconnected after awhile, he was breathing heavy, face flushed, hands all over you, "i've missed you."

you hum a response, you could barely get out a response when you feel his lips on yours again, this was wrong. all the alarms in your body were telling you to push him off, to yell at him, to reprimand him for basically cheating on his girlfriend.

but you didn't.

and maybe that made you a bad person, but at the moment you didn't care. you just wanted to feel him once more.

you woke up the next morning, cuddled up against max, both of you bare and indecent. he hadn't left yet, maybe he didn't want to leave.

the reality of last night crashed down onto you as you realized what you've done.

"max?"

"yes, schatje?"

the little nickname he gave you never went away. he used to call you that all the time but the feelings that came with it was no longer endearment but horror.

"you need to get back to your girlfriend, i don't think i can do this," you unwrap yourself from his grasps and sit up, back facing him, tears filling your eyes.

"woah, woah. schatje—"

"please, max. i feel like shit. you have a girlfriend and i just slept with you. last night was a mistake," you breathed out and hugged your knees close to your chest. you felt his hand on your back.

"y/n, what are you saying—" you cut him off before he could say anything else.

"i can't give you what you want max. we can't be together anymore. our story ended four years ago, please don't make this mistake. you're going to regret it," you quickly got up and away from his close proximity and got dressed.

you didn't know how to face him anymore.

"can we please talk about it at least? you can't lie and say that you don't feel the same way i do," max's voice came from behind you, you were pacing around the room, you were stressed. he was sitting there, shirtless with his pants on now.

"i do max! and that's the worst part because i knew you're in a relationship but i still let this happen. i am a horrible person. i love you and it's slowly ruining my life. i should've known better!" you turn around to face him, your face red, tears streaming down your face.

max could only sigh and raked a hand through his hair, "schatje..."

"we can't be together max, you know it. i can never give you what she gives you. she can be with you almost all the time max, you threw that all away for me? for someone who can't give you time of day?!" you sob into your hands.

you felt arms wrapping around you as you sob into his embrace.

MAX VERSTAPPEN BREAKS UP WITH GIRLFRIEND KELLY PIQUET ONLY AFTER A FEW MONTHS OF BEING TOGETHER.

you scroll past that headline as you got ready for your appearance to promote your new album, it came out two days ago and you were to debut the new songs on jimmy kimmel.

the tortured poets department.

you hadn't talked to max ever since that night, ever since he tenderly kissed your forehead and told you it was going to be okay and that he would figure it out. he had been blowing up your phone, asking to meet but you didn't have it in your heart to meet him after destroying his relationship like that.

that was two months ago.

you were due on stage in around an hour and that's where you would sing your heart out, leaving whatever pieces of your old self behind when you slept with max for the final time.

"i love you, it's ruining my life. i touched you for only a fortnight."

hello! thank u for reading this fic hehe, hope u guys enjoyed it. thank you again for 100 followers!!!!

#Spotify #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fic recs #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #formula one #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader

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transrevolutions · 11 months ago

Text

french revolution dashboard simulator

🐀 ami-du-peuple Follow

uh actually man has the right to deal with his oppressors by devouring their beating hearts. hope this helps.

🎩 departicle Follow

Hold up. Okay. Actually, fuck this. This sort of violent rhetoric should not be tolerated on here. Do you seriously think this sort of thing is going to make the nobility give you more rights???? You must be out of your minds! Reported.

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

reblog to devour this guy's beating heart

#username checks out lmao #politics #everybody point and laugh #common adp w

6,178 notes

organt-deactivated06151792

update: new canto out now!!! go check it out 😈😏🥀 (remember don't like don't read <3)

📜 sacredhostreceipts Follow

@centuriesandskies this you?? not such a great look for a convention rep ngl

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

listen. I wrote this a long time ago, before I went into serious politics. the account is deactivated for a reason.

I was twenty. I did poorly. I can do better.

#sj.txt #if this is the worst dirt you can dig up on me #i'm way less corrupt than half the people in the convention these days #at least i'm not doing fucking. embezzlement. #also sacredhostreceipts if you're who i think you are #don't you have better things to do rn?

231 notes

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

why the fuck is everyone tagging this with french??? political figures?

#what the hell is going on over there #also maybe cool it with the death threats #I don't want this blog to get taken down #what's a girondin #is this some joke I'm not french enough to understand #showdown update

5,012 notes

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

Unpopular opinion but why is everyone so up in arms about the new Civil Oath? Literally all it's asking is for you to promise not to commit treason just because the Pope tells you to? I can see where people are coming from with the whole violation-of-religion deal, but can you blame the Assembly for trying to make sure the people aren't forcibly subjugated by the wealth of the nobility?

faith-first-alwaysdeactivated03011791

Sounds like something a heretic would say. To betray the Pope and king is to betray the will of God and your eternal soul! You should pray for forgiveness and pledge loyalty to the monarchy or have fun burning in hell. Sorry not sorry.

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

L + ratio + iirc the Bible says "it is easier for a rope to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven" (Matthew 19:24)

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

occasional based catholic moment, go off OP!

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

looked the faith-first-always guy's blog, he's like a massive anti-huguenot too 🙄 why is it always the prot-exclusive radical catholics smh

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

LMAOOOOO HE DEACTIVATED

#religion tag #percs fuck off #anyways op makes a valid point #reblog #percs dni

3,719 notes

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

she committee on my safety til I can't go public

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

I don't understand the joke, can someone explain please?? 🙂 Thank you!

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

is that fucking MAXIMILIEN ROBESPIERRE?!!?!?!?

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

oh my god citizen robespierre I'm so sorry this was not meant to break containment lol I didn't even know you were on this site please forget you saw this

#this is the most embarassing moment of my life #literally sobbing rn #the original post is /j i prommy #i cannot be known as the citizen who had to explain this to the government

19,853 notes

🪓 indulgentsfuckoff Follow

fabre d'eglantine is NOT your poor little meow meow citizens he literally falsified decrees from the national convention and embezzled money to line his own pockets. I don't care how uwu babygirl you think he is he is a CRIMINAL who should be ARRESTED

💛 i-give-people-bread Follow

🥖🍞🥐

#baguette #loaf #croissant #i-give-people-bread #indulgentsfuckoff #silly

2,011 notes

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

fucking fed up with the constant threat of the swiss guard, I think it's time we got some gunpowder and weapons and took things into our own hands yknow what I'm saying

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

I'm no longer joking about this btw

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

update:

hopital

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

ok bc I've gotten like 50 asks about this: I am not injured and I am not in need of medical care. the punchline was that we stormed the fucking hotel des invalides to get guns and powder. didn't want to clarify the joke before now for security reasons but everyone knows about that and the bastille thing by now. please direct your money to people who actually need it.

#shouldve clarified the last post was /j #however I assumed yall knew this joke already #anyways #revolution #personal #500 #1k

1,930 notes

🌾 nopain-nograin Follow

got so high at the festivial 2day i thnk i saw hte suapreme being

#robespiere speech was prboably 🔥 #unforntuately i camt rember any of it #grainposting #oipum ehre is somtehing else thes days #memes

8,256 notes

🎨 jldavid-real-moved Follow

incredible speech from @springtimeofgovernment today at the jacobin club. nobody should be permitted to use their positions as civic leaders to commit crimes against the people, even under the guise of revolutionary fervor. if it comes to it, I too will drink the hemlock with him. for france. 🤝🤝

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

Thanks for your support, @jldavid-real

The situation over here is deteriorating really quickly, the representatives are getting violent and abandoning due process entirely. Anything you can do to stand with us now would be very appreciated. You do a lot of great work for the revolution, and I trust you completely.

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

@jldavid-real are you still there? We could really use your help right now.

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

boosting @springtimeofgovernment here, can confirm he's been injured in a skirmish at the hotel de ville, they're passing summary death sentences without trial, @jldavid-real where is the help you promised us??? the people of paris are our only hope now.

edit: of course he moved blogs. coward.

#sj.txt #disappointed yet unsurprised #marat would be ashamed of you #9 thermidor #update

15,794 notes

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

DNI if you support any of these groups/people or their actions: m0narchists, f3uillants, br1ssotins/g1rondins, th3rmidorians, b0napart1sts, h3nri du v3rgier (also goes by c0mte de r0chjacquelin), charl0tte c0rday, or lafay3tte

(h3bertists and dant0nists you're on thin ice. behave.)

#censored so they dont show up in the tags #dni #get your nasty ass ideologies off my page #won't hesitate to block and/or report any violators #pinned

52 notes

gracchus-babeufdeactivated05271797

reblog to make the directoire choke to death on their stupid fucking outfits

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

hey staff. yeah you. where did this blog go?? notfishgoujon and prairial-95 are gone as well?? cowards too afraid to show your faces lmao especially after the fucking mess the directoire's made of the country. bet you anything that staff are on their fucking payroll too iykwim at least the republic didn't tolerate fucking bribery

#this site's gone to the dogs since thermidor yr 2 #following the trend of the rest of the country tbh #i'll probably get nuked for posting this #if so i'm not making a new account #i'll just make a paleocities or smth #politics tag #reblog #don't play with me ik full well gb didn't delete his blog of his own free will #they also zero note glitched it #just when you think they can't stoop lower

0 notes

📕 spectrehauntingeurope Follow

it's been 50 fucking years since gracchus-babeuf (and the other CoE blogs) were deleted without warning and still no response from staff, the govt, or anything. the site's gone through a fuckton of ownership changes and still nothing.

we're working on a bit of a project (some of you might know abt it already), it's gonna be out prob in the next year or so. remember '89. remember '93 and '94. remember '97.

the people will rise again. it's only a matter of time. 🚩

-mod karl

#french revolution #pigeon.txt #shitpost #frev #frevblr #robespierre #saint just #marat #oof this was. a project.#dashboard simulator #funny #meme #unreality #just to be safe

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daydreams-after-dark · 6 months ago

Text

Good things come in small packages

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Mini Han x fem reader

Synopsis: One year ago you purchased a ‘miniature companion’ named Hannie. He’s the size of a Ken doll but alive and horny. But something unexpected happens on your one year anniversary.

Word count: approx 2k

A/n: Hey!!! It's finally here! My Mini Han oneshot (posted in a couple of instalments because I get too excited to share). The idea for Mini Han was born through a conversation with my girl @noellllslut (we always have the most unhinged thoughts). Then I wrote a little "imagining" here (which I’ve incorporated into this fic anyway, so you don’t have to read), which then sparked quite a bit curiosity amongst you sweet/filthy readers. Questions came, and I felt compelled to explore more of this theme.

I hope you enjoy this little fic. It's sweet and smutty, and as I kept writing, I fell in love with our dear y/n and Mini Hannie. I want one for myself tbh.

CW below the cut

CW: supernatural themes, oral sex, sexual acts, sexual themes, voyeurism

You've had your miniature human, Hannie, for almost a year?! You realize, sitting at your work desk as you look at your desktop calendar. You smile and make a note to organize a celebration for just the two of you, and to buy a cheesecake for dessert. Hannie loves cheesecake. Your smile grows. He always manages to get it all over him, then wants to get it all over you so he can lick it off you.

One year this coming weekend. It feels like time has flown, yet at the same time it feels like he’s been part of your life forever. Your heart bursts as you think back to how it all came to be.

You had been lonely. You'd broken up with your long term boyfriend and was feeling sad one night. So you went online to doom scroll, and online shop. You expected you'd end up down a rabbit hole of cat memes and be $500 down in shoe purchases, but instead an ad appeared on your screen.

"Miniature human companions" it said, with images of very attractive men. Miniature men. Were they human? Couldn't be. Were they robots? Probably. They must be really expensive to make which is why they are so small, you'd decided.

You were intrigued, so you researched the company, finding that this new type of 'companion' utilizes cutting edge technology that simulates actual human behavior and bodily functions.

By 4am you'd chosen your companion. His name was Han. He was adorable and attractive, with fluffy black hair and pouty lips, and from the personality trait notes, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Pay Now". You can still remember the feeling of excitement that ran through you as hit the button to complete your purchase.

When he arrived, he came in a box with air holes, which you found kind of weird considering he didn't actually breathe oxygen. You set the box on your kitchen table, took a deep breath and lifted the lid. You gasped as you peered inside.

A little man, about the size of a Ken doll, sat on a blanket eating miniature crisps out of a miniature chip bag.

"Oh hello!" he looked up at you. "Are you my Noona?" he waved excitedly.

Holy fucking shit. You almost fainted as you stumbled to sit down on a dining chair.

You knew he was meant to talk, but he just seemed so real as he chewed his food then licked the seasoning off his lips like he could actually taste it. His little chest moved with his breath, like he was really breathing. Could he do everything a human can do? You wondered.

"My name’s Hannie." He said standing up and brushing the crumbs off his trousers.

"Um...I-I'm Y/n..." you stuttered, trying to process what you were witnessing,

"You're really pretty, Y/n." He beamed up at you with a gummy grin.

You prepared him a little space of his own, with a makeshift bed, clothing that you had also ordered from the company you purchased him from, and bought a set of Barbie sized cups, plates and furniture. You even bought him a Barbie Dreamhouse to live in, but he preferred to just climb up your full sized furniture and use that.

You studied the information manual that came with him and learned that he could in fact, experience life just as a human did. He needed to eat, sleep, wash, poop. Oh and he could get erections and ejaculate. Wow!

Over the next weeks and months you'd gotten yourselves into a routine, and became really close. He was your best friend. You did everything together, mostly staying at home. You assumed he was some sort of AI, and that's why you got along so well, but the longer he was with you, the more his own interests came to the surface. Like singing and Anime.

He helped you bake, often getting himself covered in flour and other ingredients. You'd watch movies together. Most nights you'd lay on the couch and he'd lay face down on your chest while you watched your favorites. Sometimes you'd feel him get hard against the curve of your breast, and you'd think inappropriate thoughts about him. You'd grow wet between your legs and wish he was able to touch you.

He loved it when you’d brush his hair with a tiny little hairbrush and sit him on your benchtop in the bathroom when you’re getting ready for the day. You know he loved it when you forgot he was there one time and you took a shower in front of him. He got so hard watching you soap up your body.

Sometimes you'd take him out on a picnic somewhere secluded near the ocean so he could freely move about the picnic blanket without fear of being seen. Or he'd sneak into your work bag and scare the shit out of you when you were working.

In the early days, you'd occasionally go on dates with actual men. Mostly to take your mind of your growing feelings for Hannie. You'd bring them home and fuck them in your bed, knowing he was somewhere watching, listening. You'd imagine him getting hard from your noises, and it made you moan even louder just picturing it. You'd imagine it was Hannie inside you too, pounding hard into your cunt, and making you come on his cock.

He was distant with you in the days after. He’d sit around sulking and pouting.

"What's wrong, Hannie?" You asked him after he’d ignored you for three days.

"Noona... it's just…I get so jealous of them." He burst into tears. "I want to do things like that to you. I want to the be the one who makes you come." He sobbed.

Things changed after that. You no longer went out with other men, and you and your miniature companion began to explore a more physical, more sexual, relationship.

From letting you see each other naked, to mutual masturbation, to eventually touching each other and making each other come.

You soon learned that even though Hannie is small, he is extremely talented with his mouth, and he can make you come harder than anyone had ever before.

One morning he noticed that you were still asleep, and very naked. The way you were laying, legs splayed out looked so inviting to him. You’d kicked your blanket off at some point. He couldn’t help himself.

You woke up to a sensation between your legs, and when you looked down you saw him kneeling between your your legs, using his arms to push your pussy lips open and doing his very best to lap at your clit.

“Hannie?” You whimpered. He stopped for a moment to stand up and wave at you, the entire front of his body dripping with your arousal. “I’ve just found my favorite thing to do!” He said enthusiastically and then he was back to being buried against your pussy.

These days, at night time he’ll climb up onto your chest while you’re lying in bed watching videos on your phone. He still loves to nestle against the bulge of your breasts, especially if you’re in a loose satin camisole, and he’ll slide himself under the fabric.

“What do you want to watch, Hannie?” You’ll ask him.

“Porn!” He’ll answer excitedly. The phone is like a giant screen to him and it’s never long before you feel him shimmying his clothes off and rubbing his little swollen erection against your skin.

He’s such a desperate little thing that you let him do whatever he needs to get himself off. Often, he’ll rub his cock along your bottom lip while he humps your tits, or he’ll scramble to suck on your nipple. He does his best to stretch his mouth around it, while he grinds against you and cumming on your soft skin. Then he’ll pass out right there. Poor little tyke gets himself tired.

Some of the kinkier things he gets you to do include tying him up and edging him until his cock becomes so painfully red and engorged that he’s crying. His naked body is delicious to look at, and you love to run the pad of your index finger over his muscles. He’s perfectly toned, his skin honey brown, and his cock is mouth-wateringly big for his frame.

He’s rendered helpless as you stroke your finger gently up and down his body. Then, using the tip of your tongue, you lick his cock carefully whilst shoving your pinky finger into his mouth.

There are times when you’ll dress up in lingerie covered in buckles and straps and he’ll climb up your body like he’s doing some kind of adventure hike. He gets so sweaty and very hard as he explores the terrain of your body.

He really is the perfect companion.

You are broken from your thoughts by your alarm signaling it's time to go home from work, and you hurry home to see your Hannie.

_____________

"Fuck! Hannie! Please... need to come...need one more...please. Don't stop." You pant. It's later that evening, and you're on the verge of your third orgasm with Hannie between your thighs sucking expertly on your clit. He's got your lips spread open as far as he can manage, and he's grinding against your core seeking his own release. Inside your pussy you've got your vibrator egg on full intensity. "Yes!!! Yes...coming!!!" You cry as you arch off the bed as you come all over him.

He quickly climbs up your body, almost slipping off because he’s covered in so much of your cream, and kneels on your chest to pump his cock until he’s spurting cum onto your tongue.

“Tastes so good, Hannie.” You show him your empty tongue, but he’s already collapsed across your body.

You clean him up and put him in his striped pajamas, before you both nestle into bed. You’re used to him sleeping on the pillow next to you now, although it took you a while to stop worrying you’d roll on him in the night.

“Noona? Did you know that tomorrow it’ll be one year since I came here?” He says sleepily.

You roll onto your side and smile. “Yes, actually I do, honey. Have a think about what you’d like to do to celebrate, okay. Anything you want."

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. But just so you know, it’ll involve me being buried in your pussy.”

————-

Han laid back on the pillow. What would he like to do to celebrate? He’d love to celebrate by being inside you. Properly. Fully.

He wishes he could do the things he'd seen those men you’d do to you all those months ago. To pin your legs up and fuck you so hard the bed would shake. He takes his mind back to when he’d hide on your shelf and watch, fucking into his hand and holding back tears of despair.

What would it be like to bend you over and fuck you from behind? What would it even be like to fuck you at all? He wants to know so bad.

But he does have a special relationship with you, he supposes. Not every guy has to stretch his mouth around a nipple or clit like he has to. Can those men be covered head to toe in your juices? Or lay completely across the bulge of your boob. No. They can’t. Only he can.

He pouts to himself.

He knows he’s got it good, you are his everything. But as he lays on the pillow next you and closes his eyes, he wonders if he’s enough for you? Could you give up real men forever, with real sized cocks that can stretch you out and fill you deep? Would you be okay with never having a boyfriend you could take out in public, or take to family events, or be seen with?

Could you settle for him? A miniature version of a man?

He sighs. "Goodnight, Noona. Love you." He whispers as he leans over and gives your giant lips a kiss.

"Goodnight, my sweet Hannie. I love you too." you reply sleepily.

As he drifts off to sleep he wishes what he always wishes. That he could be human sized and be with you like a proper human.

-----------

The morning sun peeks through your window, landing on your face and causing you to stir. You groan and try to stretch, but a heaviness across your middle keeps you in place. You peer down to find a man's arm wrapped around you, snuggling you tight.

Fear courses through your body, and you scream as you fling the arm off and jump out bed. You grab your lamp, ready to hit the intruder.

"Noona?" The man lifts his head, his dark locks falling around his face.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see the confused look on his face. "Hannie!?" You choke, hands poised to strike.

"Noona? What are you doing?" he peers down at the pillow his head had been resting on, and then down the bed toward his feet. "Why is your bed so small?"

"Hannie?" You whisper, lowering the lamp, letting it drop to the floor.

"Why is everything so small? Wait. Why am I naked? Noona, have you been playing with me in my sleep?" He looks up at you confused and worried. "Noona, why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes land on his pajamas, torn to shreds next to him. He picks up the scrap of fabric that was his pajama top, and his eyes widen. "Why are my clothes so tiny?"

"Hannie," you take in the man before you, naked and taking up most of the bed. "You're big."

To be continued…

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @ismokeeweed @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @teddy-stay @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

#skz smut #Han Jisung x reader #Han Jisung smut #han jisung x y/n #han skz #sorshas fics

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chappellroansdreamgirl · 9 months ago

Text

ellie with a mean gf!

(prjoecting like a mf rn...)

a/n - i have been very unmotivated to write full-fleshed stuff so i'm deciding to write drabbles/headcannons for now. also THANK YOU FOR ALL THE ATTENTION ON CH.1 OF GOOD LUCK, BABE! it makes my heart smile that you guys love it so much... also😭😭...: @sweetcici11 srry that i lied and said ur fic would be out a few nights ago. i'm really trying to finish it but i don't want to rush it and it be shitty. i really want it to be enjoyable and as good as it can be. but i PROMISE you it WILL be posted... sooner or later! i also have a few more drafts to finish too, so, i hope you guys like them when they come out!!!!!

content warnings - fluff, i'm a bitch and i want to feel loved and think that someone can put up with my cuntiness😝😝 , over-usage of commas probably, i think they're low-key kind of toxic?!?!?!?! , guys i promise i'm not this bad i've just been pretty insufferable these last few days and need an outlet 😭😭 .

i wrote way more than i thought i was going to...

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

- you both hated each other at first. ...well actually, you hated her, and she was like, "😞😞" and then got used to it after a while and started being mean back 2 u!!

- dina introduced ellie to you when you both were hanging out with her. "you guys are going to love each other🥰!" ... you didn't 🤗 !

- ellie said hi to you and all you did was look her up and down, stare at her for a few seconds and then turn your head.

- everytime ellie would (attempt to) strike up a conversation you would give an overtly enthusiastic response or just stare at her like she had two heads or just blatantly ignore her. dina is over there like, '😟😟 . can we not have one good day...' when dina would leave for short periods of time and ellie was sure that you didn't like her, she would just talk about anything to get your blood boiling, our girl lllloooovvveessss to push buttons, we know this to be true.

- it got worse yet more tolerable after that. whenever she'd see you at gatherings or parties, you'd do your damnest to stay away from/avoid her. and she'd do her damnest to get you as upset with her as possible. it always ended with not-so-playful not-so-friendly banter!

- you were talking with jesse about something on the couch, and ellie came over and DELIBERATELY, DELIBERATELY... interrupted you 🤗 ! :

you shoot daggers at her face with your eyes, your jaw set hard and your eyes narrowed.

ellie tried to feign innocence, raising a brow at you after she looked over to see your facial expressions long after she felt them.. "what are you looking at me like that for🤨🤨?" , "i was fucking talking, you're being rude." , "if i have to get used to you being a bitch, you got to do the same." , you just huffed at her response and crossed your arms before walking off a few minutes after, realizing that the conversation you were having with jesse earlier was indeed over. ellie smirked to herself, victory was her's!

- she started calling you the nickname brat out of the blue... it blindsided tf out of you. here's the origin story!:

you look at ellie with a disgusted look on your face as she exhales smoke. her glazed over eyes meet yours before she offers the joint to you, out of genuine kindness. "want a hit?" she asked, forgetting how much of a bitch you were for, like, 0.2 seconds. you glare at her for a moment longer before plastering a sarcastic smile on your face, snatching the joint from her fingertips and dropping it onto the floor. you kept her eyes on yours as you stomped and smushed it into the ground.

now she remembered.

she stood up instantaneously, she was pissed. "what the fuck?!" she shouted, earning a few looks from some friends across the room. they strained their necks for a little bit before they saw you, it made sense now, and then turned back to the conversation.

you close your eyes for a slight second as a satisfied smile graced the corners of your lips. "you know i don't smoke, ellie." you responded with in a condescendingly sweet voice.

she didn't even argue with you. "you're such a fuckin' brat." she muttered under her breath before walking away. you had to try your very best to ignore the heartbeat in your pussy. (🤗!)

- she didn't get to see how much effect that title had on you that night, but she noticed afterwards.

- one time you didn't say anything to ellie during a hangout, distracted by someone you disliked more than her. ellie kind of missed it☹️☹️ .

you were brought out of your thoughts when you felt her cold hand touch your shoulder. when you noticed it was her who was doing it, you pulled back with a furrow of her brows. ellie smiled. there she was.

"you haven't said one mean thing to me since i've gotten here. are you dying?"

you scoffed as you pointed in the direction your anger was radiating from. it was a girl ellie saw here and there in jackson, sometimes she was paired with her during patrols, she wasn't crazy about her but she paid no mind to her existence.

"what?- what does this have to do with me-"

"what it has to do with you, is that you should feel honored that i can tolerate you... can't fuckin' stand that bitch."

ellie scoffed before speaking up once more, "oh, c'mon you're being dramatic. don't be a brat."

your eyes went wide for a second and as you turned away, she could see the cheek that was facing her turn an embarrassing shade of red. she found your weakness.

- when you guys started dating, no one, and i mean NO ONE, believed it. (i don't feel like writing how u two got together maybe if y'all like this enough i'll make a full-fleshed oneshot abt it😭.)

- joel saw you guys together... like, not arguing, and HER head on YOUR shoulder... he thought he got laced with acid for a quick second there... jesse felt like he missed a couple chapters and felt very sad that he hadn't caught onto it quicker... and dina was so proud of herself, "told you, you guys would love each other 😁." she's so smug, I LOVE HER!

- she constantly has to reprimand you like you're a child when you guys are around someone you obviously don't like for whatever reason. once whoever left the room, ellie'll pinch your shoulder or your thigh, whatever skin is on display at the moment, not too hard, just to get you to wince a bit. you'll make a face at her afterwards. "ow, what the fuck was that for ellie?" , "we can talk shit when we get home, don't make a scene🙄." you stress her out sometimes...

- just bcs you guys are together DOES NOT mean your attitude has gone away.

whenever ellie and you have gotten in an argument, you're always being extra sarcastic and EXTRA BITCHY just to get on her nerves.

"baby, have you seen my gun?" she asks you, breaking the silence voluntarily as she's two minutes from being late to patrol.

you don't look up to her, you keep on looking at the pages of an old magazine. "idk ellie, did you check to see if it was shoved up your ass."

she just stands there for a second like this 🧍‍♀️ , before sighing and walking somewhere else to find it. "i'll fuckin' deal with you later." she mutters under her breath, obviously annoyed. you smirk to yourself as you flip another page.

- she does love, however, that you've gotten gentler with her since the relationship blossomed between you two. very few people (dina and ellie... sometimes jesse.) can get you to stop, and ellie is proud of herself that she could add beast-tamer to the top of her list of many skills and talents.

- sometimes she has to calm you down, sometimes all it takes is a stare in your direction. ... well, it's oftentimes a glare... you're your own woman/person and a relationship will not restrict you from showing off your talents!!!!!

- ellie has to constantly keep you from getting into arguments that could harm you physically. although your craft of bitchery is amazing, you can't fight to save your life.

she'll be pulling you back like an angry barking dog on a leash.

"i could've fucking took h-" , "you overestimate yourself a lot, baby."

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vanishingcherry · 1 year ago

Text

YN YLN and Charles Leclerc Take a Couples Quiz

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: this has been in my drafts for wayy to long, so ive decided to just finish it off and post it. im sorry lmao but i just couldn't watch this rot away in my wips any longer.

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

The video cut to you and Charles, sitting opposite each other in front of a yellow to red gradient, smiling at the camera.

"Hi! I'm YN", you say cheerfully.

"And I'm Charles"

"And we are here to take a couples quiz!"

You are handed a stack of questions from a person off screen, and turn towards Charles.

"Are you ready?"

"Is that the first question?" he retorts.

Your face drops, now showing slight annoyance but there is still a small smile you try to hide. "That's it. Minus 1 points."

"Oh c'mon! That is not fair."

You turn to argue but the video cuts to a different scene in which you ask the actual first question.

"What things do I have, of yours, that are my favourite?

He looks up in thought before chuckling and replying. "Theres a lot, you steal my stuff all the time."

You grin. "Yes, but what's my favourite?"

"My shirts? No wait! My bracelets?" He asks.

"Yeah!" you exclaim. Turning to the camera you add. "He gets so many bracelets from fans and they are all so pretty. We keep them in a bowl on our dresser so I like to take a few whenever I go out."

Looking back at Charles, you add. "You didn't know the answer, but you still got it right so I think you deserve half a point." The staff behind the camera gives you a thumbs up, noting it down for when they would edit the video.

"Ok! Next question- which song of yours is my favourite?"

He looks at you, his eyes widening with a confused expression on his face. He looks at the camera crew and then back at you.

"C'mon, I only have 2 it's not a very hard question."

"Then answer it." you reply, looking at him with a small smirk.

"Fine. Uh, AUS23."

"Wrong!" you exclaim, laughing at the way his jaw drops in surprise.

"Then what? I know its not Miami."

"Its the one you wrote for Baku." you slyly say, knowing fully well that he hadn't released it and you were possibly the only one other than him to have heard it.

You look down at the cards you had been given, reading off the next question. "What is the first thing I eat in the morning?"

You see his smirk growing in your peripheral vision and cut in before he answers. "If you dare make a joke, I will murder you."

He laughs at that, chuckling as he looks up to think. "Um. Breakfast? It's different things every morning, but if I wake up before her then I make cereal."

Noticing the evident confusion on the faces of the cameramen, you elaborate. "It's the only thing he's allowed to make without me present. The last time I let him cook alone, he burned the pancakes and half our kitchen."

Turning red at the story, he interrupts. "Okayy, next question amore."

"Which side of the bed do I sleep on?"

"Left."

"If I could get a tattoo of something, what would it be?"

"A bouquet of flowers. The flowers would be your favourite and my favourite together."

You are shocked at his response. "How did you remember that? I told you that ages ago!"

He smiles slyly to the camera. "That is why I am the best boyfriend, there is no need for these silly questions I am already the best. She told me so in be-"

"Right. Next question." You cut him off, eyes widening as you figure out where he was going with the statement. "This is the last one. If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"Oh this is easy. Italy. You are always talking about how much you love it. But you also love Monaco and France so depending on how you feel, one of those three."

"Well.", you look at the camera, "I think that answer deserves 2 points." Handing your questions off to the side, you turn to Charles who has started reading the first of his questions.

"If I had a ticket to anywhere in the world, where would I go?" he reads. "This is similar to yours", he mutters.

"Home", you say confidently. "He's a mama's boy, tries to go back home as much as possible."

He blushes slightly before nodding to the camera. "Yup, 1 point."

"What was I wearing on our first date?"

You reply quick as lightening. "A shirt and pants. Very gentlemanly, I remember thinking, probably the best first impression I've had of a guy."

His eyebrows raise at the confession, cockily tilting his head in the direction of the camera. "You heard her! Next, what is something I hate?"

"A lot of things, Char."

"Is that your final answer, cherie?"

"Um." you pause. "Oh I know! When manipulate stuff that you say. It makes me really mad too. It gets really tiresome when they take stuff that Charles has said that turn into into a different story altogether."

"Thats true, I do hate that." He smiles at you, reaching over to squeeze your hand once to say thank you.

"How many kids do I want?"

"3, because you have 2 siblings. But, you said you want as many as I am comfortable with!"

"Of course, amour. You're the one whose going to be carrying them, your choice is more important here. What is something I get annoyed about?"

"Oh, when Seb and Carlos beat you at those Ferrari games you play."

His jaw drops in faux offence, shaking his head as he reads out the last question on his cue card.

"What is one my hidden talents?"

You look straight at the camera, not dissimilar to The Office. A smirk grows on your face and the lens zooms in. In the background Charles can be heard complaining.

"Oh I see! You can make these jokes, but I cant?"

The video cuts to the wider angle once again, you and Charles wave at the camera.

"Thanks for watching our couples quiz! I think it's clear that I've won."

Charles rolls his eyes, eyes shining with admiration and love for you. "Bye everybody."

Comments:

charleslover: OH MY GOD!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE IT KILLS ME

ynandcharles: their facial expressions always kill me

username89: where do i get a charles leclerc bcs i will willingly offer all the money i have

doratheexplorer16: their love for each other hurts

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ladylannisterxo · 7 months ago

Text

... the one where spence takes an interest

Pairings; Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Words; 0.6k

Warnings; one use of Y/N but this was written back before I stopped using it lol but other than that, none, just fluff!

Summary; {requested} "Not to pester you, I had this thought and wanted to share is all, but could you imagine talking to Spencer about something you're really excited about (like a movie/tv show/game or something) and the next day he starts talking to you in length about it, and it turns out he went home that night and read/watched everything he could on the subject."

A/N; goodness, I wrote this years ago on another blog and since I've been rewatching Criminal Minds, I figured I'd go ahead and post it again (cause why not?)... the one and only thing I ever wrote for Dr. Spencer Reid ajdhsakdshak

{ masterlist }

You didn't plan this. Really, you didn't. But you know how it goes when you start binging a new tv series: just one more episode... and then before you know it, it's 2:00am.

Now you're sitting in the bullpen. It's 8:00am and you're constantly rubbing at your tired eyes and chugging coffee like your life depends on it.

And Spencer is wearing a curious expression, already extrapolating possibilities as to what could have kept you awake last night.

But he doesn't mention it. Not when the team is discussing the new case, not even on the jet en route to your destination. He waits until it's just you and him, paired off to go talk to the medical examiner about the latest victim.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little tired."

He smiles warmly, offering you an amused glance before fixing his eyes back on the road. "I gathered. What kept you up?"

"You know, I just..."

But then you realize you don't want to tell him, not really. To you, staying up super late to watch a tv show seems embarrassing when compared to how he most likely spent his night.

You imagine that he read around six books, most of which were probably in a language you didn't understand. Or maybe he called his mom to check in with her. Or maybe he had nightmares himself and so he thinks that's exactly what happened with you...

Any scenario you think of infinitely sounds better than oh, you know, I just stayed up super late watching some trashy guilty pleasure tv show because I have no self control.

"Nothing really," you settle on, "it's dumb."

"Try me."

So you cave, mostly because you're too tired to fight. He listens intently as you tell him about the new show you found, how it's completely ridiculous but it allows you to step out of your life for a bit and relax.

He doesn't say much, just nods along as you talk and before you know it, you've arrived at your destination and it's back to work.

Spencer actually doesn't mention your conversation again for the remainder of the case and finally, the unsub is in custody and the team is back home to enjoy a nice, long weekend.

You don't see or hear from Spencer during this time but first thing Monday morning, he's greeting you as you step off the elevator with a cup of coffee and a bright smile.

... and then he tells you he spent the weekend watching the first season of the show you mentioned and to his surprise, he really enjoyed it.

To say you're confused is an understatement but you listen as he discusses every character and what he thinks of the current story arc.

"Spencer," you laugh, resting your hand on his arm and halting his speech. "Not that I'm not thrilled to talk about this but I really wasn't expecting you to go home and watch an entire season of a show just because I mentioned it."

He smiles sheepishly, eyes lingering on where your hand still rests on his arm.

"You were really excited about it though."

"And?"

"And it seemed important to you... so it's important to me."

A smile pulls itself across your face and you open your mouth to respond when you're both interrupted by Garcia letting you know there's another case.

"Hold that thought," you inquire.

"It's impossible for me to forget it."

And just like that, you're discussing trashy tv with Dr. Spencer Reid during any downtime that you're granted. You gush about your favorite character and he theorizes future story arcs while simultaneously pointing out behavioral inaccuracies.

"People do not speak like that in that kind of situation, Y/N."

"It's tv, Spence, it's supposed to be unrealistic. That's what makes it fun."

+ Bonus: if it's a series that is currently airing, you both come into the office the next morning and excitedly discuss every single thing that happened and then theorize on what could possibly happen next.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #writing by 's'

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probablybadrpgideas · 4 months ago

Note

I feel like this is the right place to share the story of Post Apocalyptic Macho Man Randy Savage, the one time where my bad idea was telling a player "Hey, that might be a bad idea for this campaign"

Maybe 10 years ago I dusted off d20 modern for a Fallout-inspired post apocalyptic two-shot, a lot of what I'd DMed to that point was your typical D&D and I wanted to start trying different settings. I'd imagined this to be a pretty gun-heavy few games, so when my buddy decided that he wanted to make a grappler, I told him that I didn't think that was a great idea. My buddy took that shit personally.

Now, I was used to silliness at my table. I encouraged it, in fact! This campaign also had characters based on Squidward, Shrek and the Sanik meme (to anyone that knows Fallout lore, imagine Sonic hooked on Jet), so when my friend came to me with Macho Man Randy Savage I tutted a bit, but didn't bat an eye. What I hadn't realized was that my friend had spent the three days in between our conversation and the actual game building the perfect character to make me eat my words. The Post Apocalyptic Macho Man could grapple, he could evade and he could talk his ass off and that's it, but with these three ingredients- plus the bounty of the Dice Gods- this character derailed everything I'd had planned.

Band of raiders that have a caravan held up? Suplexed into each other before they could even get their guns. Super mutant? Nothing that can't be solved by suplexing a propane tank into the mutant (plus a well timed shot from Sanik). Mirelurk? More-a graps! Wave of bullets flying towards him? That's okay, just do the trademark Randy Savage tippy-toe walk to the nearest cover, then wait for the earliest opportunity to throw cocaine in their eyes and suplex the son of a bitch that thought they could snuff out the Madness (Oh, I forgot to mention that he spent literally all his starting money on cocaine, which he used in much the same way that Dale Gribble used sand). I really go out of my way to stop one character from becoming the capital-P Protagonist of the game, but my other players quickly figured out what was happening and they leaned into Macho Man's bullshit HARD, so they'd started setting up bad guys to get suplexed! By the end of the evening, my friend sat me down, flashed me the most shit-eating grin I'd ever seen to this day, and asked "So is the grappler still a bad idea?"

To tl;dr the rest, I furiously re-wrote the plot for the second night (again, two-shot) to make the bad guy Hulk Hogan, and the final encounter boiled down to a wrestling match between the two with the other players electing to "sit in the crowd and boo the Hulkster", before ultimately the two settled their differences and decided that the easiest way to rebuild society (and get decent blow again) was to reform the WWF and found a city called WrestleMania. Sanik was on board for the blow, Squidward was convinced to join them when he was told that the wrestlers would need entrance music and, so long as they kept away from his swamp, Shrek promised to help them find a suitable place to build Wrestlemania (though it totally ended up in his swamp). Anyway, that's how I learned to never tell a player that their idea for a grappler won't work, a grappler will work in any setting if you've got enough spite in your heart

#not an idea

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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year ago

Text

A Love Game

DI!Single!Dad!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You hear a glimpse of Leon's relationship with his daughter. And later he makes you a proposal you just can't refuse

Warnings: mild sexual content, still minors dni, brief phone sex, allusions to sex, Leon has a mouth on his as always, bit of soft!dom leon, mostly Leon being a soft dad on this one, foul language (as always), no use of y/n

WC: 3k

A/N: so I'm totally in love with this dynamic! And yalls support was insane. I literally wrote two separate drafts of a continuation of these two and whichever I finished first was gonna be posted, so the light smut one won bc I'm tired atm and didn't feel like sitting in front of my computer for 6 hours🙃 so this short part will have a second part to it with full spicy time. And another standalone part with these two (coffee and other things) having some more spicy time is also in the works, so stay tuned. Besitos <3

Universe Masterlist

Leon blinked slowly, his eyes now starting to grow sore from staring at the bright computer screen for so long. But he just hadn't had time to finish this stupid report. Sure, he has had two whole days to get it done, but with a tiny human clinging to his arm every waking minute, it was a bit more complicated than he thought. But he couldn't possibly ignore his little girl when he barely had the time to be with her without having to worry about stopping some mad scientist with too much time in their hands. He didn't mind though. His little girl was more important than anything else.

Still, he took advantage of the little window of time he had now. He had given Isabella dinner a little over an hour ago. Then left her in the dining room to finish her homework. She had always been a smart girl, responsible with her homework, she never fussed when he asked her to do it, so it didn't worry him in the slightest to leave her to do her own thing. She tended to get distracted when he was around anyway.

Though, maybe an hour had gone by when he heard tiny feet pad bare through the wood floors and he saw a mess of chocolate brown strands sticking from its bun peek above his computer screen. He slowly lowered the screen until it was almost shut and he was met with a pair of sapphire eyes that were a replica of his own. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Daddy." She took a step closer to him, her eyes big like she wanted to ask him something.

Leon sat up fully, setting his laptop aside and nodded at her, giving her his full attention now. "What's up bee?"

"Can I.. uhm.. I can play with your switch now?" She asked, dark lashes batting as she fiddled with her hands. As if she had to give him puppy dog eyes for him to say yes. He kept his face serious though.

"You wanna play on my switch?" She nodded. He ran his fingers over his light stubble as if he was thinking real hard, he pursed his lips in thought. "I dunno hun, did you finish your homework?"

"How did you know I had homework?" She asked with an adorable frown on her face, it took Leon all of his willpower not to break then.

"Well I do now." He slipped a smile and she pouted. He couldn't help but chuckle at his little girl. He took her in his arms and sat her on his lap. "Well I knew before. Wanna know how?"

Her head perked up. "How?"

Leon leaned into her ear with a smile, "'Cause dads know everything about their little girls." He pressed a kiss to the side of her hair and set her back on her feet. "But yeah, Miss Pretty Teacher told me."

"That's cheating!" She whipped her head around with a gasp and glared at him. He again couldn't hide his laugh.

"Yeah alright, you caught me," he raised his hands up at her in surrender. "You can play on the switch for a bit. Do you remember how to turn it on?"

Izzy proudly nodded and skipped over to the large TV hooked up to the living room. The TV had been on, nothing playing, but just on, since Leon had intended to play some white noise in the background but never actually loaded up anything. He switched to the right input as he watched Izzy turn on the Switch. It took her a second to remember how, but she was happily skipping back to the couch with the controllers as the loading screen came up before Leon could get up to help. He shook his head to himself, but he puffed out a breath when Izzy jumped on his lap, rather hard, the little girl giggling when he groaned.

"Jesus Christ, when did you get so big?" He chuckled, fixing her on his lap so she wouldn't fall and watched as she scrolled through the games until she found Mario Kart.

"I turned seven in October, remember?" She piped up, genuinely reminding him of such an important date, as if he would ever forget. He nodded.

"I know, Izzy. I took you to Dave and Busters with Amara, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. That was fun. We should go again sometime! Please daddy?" She turned her head to look at him with this smile on her face and her big blue eyes.

God, what did he ever do to deserve this kid?

He pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded.

"'Course. I'll talk to Amara's mom, okay?"

He watched as Izzy excitedly nodded and cheered happily before she got lost in the game in front of her. He didn't mind her having screen time. It wasn't like she had an iPad glued to her face twenty-four-seven. He let her play once or twice a week, and maybe a third if he was feeling like playing with her. And she was more than happy to spend that time with her dad.

Tonight he wasn't really feeling playing, so he watched her do her best. To her, she was the biggest winner there ever was, throwing turtle shells and bombs at practically nothing and hitting the wall with every curve, but she had fun with it, so he let her be, cheering her on whenever she finished a race, even if it was in ninth or eighth place.

Maybe thirty minutes had passed when he felt his phone buzz beside him. He took his eyes away from the colorful screen to look at his phone. It lit up with a text, and his smile grew wide at the name.

My pretty teacher.

He grabbed his phone and quickly opened the conversation. You had been texting back and forth all day, for days now, after what he considered a perfect first date, but he just hadn't gotten around to match your schedule to plan another date. So you had resorted to texting and maybe calling once here and there. But God, he was really missing you right about now.

My pretty teacher: sorry, I went to dinner with my mom and sister. And I just got home. Hru?

He bit his lip as he attempted to type into his phone one handed.

Me: It's fine. I'm ok. With izzy.

My pretty teacher: awww🥰

Me: Can you call? I'm texting with one hand at the moment.

You saw the message, and he could see the three text bubbles appear and disappear. Until they didn't come back. He mentally grimaced at himself, maybe the idea of talking to him while Isabella was there made you uncomfortable? Shit. He hadn't thought about that. Christ, he hadn't dated in so long he had forgotten that being a single dad wasn't exactly the biggest turn on. No matter how much one liked kids.

His anxiety riddled brain stopped racing when he saw your contact name pop up on his screen as his phone started ringing. He grinned to himself. He glanced at Izzy— her full attention was still on her game, he shrugged and answered the call. He set his phone down, still having one ear bud in from when he was working on his laptop.

"Hey Miss." He spoke first, his heart racing in his chest a bit.

"Hi Leon." He could hear the smile in your voice. That shy smile he thought was the prettiest thing.

"You busy?" He asked, still a bit worried he was interrupting you in the middle of something. Though the indistinct sound of TV playing in the background let him know that maybe you weren't that busy.

"Not really. I got home a little bit ago so I was just about to run myself a bath." You answered, walking back and forth between your bedroom and the bathroom connected to it. "You?"

Leon tried his hardest not to think about your words too much. Not right now.

"Nah. Just watching Izzy play on my switch. She's kicking ass in Mario Kart." He heard you blurt out a giggle, which made him chuckle, but what made him actually laugh was Izzy shooting him a frown over her shoulder.

"Daddy, that's a no-no word."

Leon snapped his head down at Izzy and he frowned, not sure if he heard her correctly, "What's that bee?"

"I said that's a bad word."

"What is?"

"Ass."

Leon almost snorted at the way she said the word. With a frown and her lips pursed. He didn't care if she said bad words or not. He sure as hell said them all the time, but he encouraged her not to repeat what he said, in front of other people, at least. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"So don't say it. I'm an adult. I can say them." When she kept looking at him, he placed a hand on top of her head and —gently— turned her head back towards the TV screen, despite her protest. "Keep playing your game, Isabella. Or you can't sit on my lap anymore."

All Leon could hear was you attempting to muffle your laughter, but he could hear your giggles loud and clear. He only rolled his eyes, but he had a tiny smile of his own.

"C'mon don't laugh, being a parent is hard. Are you the one teaching her this no-no bull— B.S?" He caught himself, closing his eyes when you laughed even more, now not even bothering to hide it.

"I have to! I have a swear jar, I'm sorry. I gotta set an example."

He actually laughed at this, remembering the mouth you had on you when he had you on his bed.

"Yeah, well, you weren't so pure and innocent when you were screaming—" He caught himself again, his own eyes widening when he remembered Isabella was right there and he sighed out softly. "Give me an hour and I'll give you the answer you deserve, Miss."

You stayed quiet for a second, not because he offended you, but because you needed a second to breathe and control the heat that flashed between your legs at his insinuation. You exhaled deeply before responding.

"You're what again? Playing Switch with Izzy?

Leon hummed in response. "She is. She's sitting on my lap so I'm being forced to watch."

"I'm not forcing you!"

"On your game, Isabella. Stop listening to my conversation."

"Does she have her own Switch or something?" You asked, now sitting on the edge of your bathtub as hot water poured from the faucet.

"No. It's my Switch. But I leave it in the living room so she can play sometimes." He answered you with a shrug you obviously couldn't see.

You chuckled softly, "How old are you again?"

"Thirty-eight, but that's besides the point. I barely have time to use the thing. I mostly bought it for Izzy." He wasn't lying— entirely. He sometimes played, late at night by himself when he wanted to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey. He would choose to play a game to blow off steam instead of getting drunk with his little girl sleeping in the next room or passing out drunk at some shitty bar.

"I'm very convinced by that." You snorted, making him sigh out at you.

"Hmph. Whatever. You wouldn't understand how cathartic throwing green turtle shells at tiny cars can be."

"Oh I bet."

"Daddy?" You heard Isabella's voice through the phone and your heart warmed.

Leon looked down at Izzy, "Yeah?"

"Who are you talking to?" She asked with genuine curiosity, her very glorious race tournament now over and her attention was on him.

He heard you go silent, most likely having heard the little girl and he sighed out, his eyes landing up on the ceiling for a second as he thought of his answer.

"Just a friend, bee." He ultimately decided on that answer. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being with you, not at all, but Izzy was still young, and even he knew there had to be a proper introduction of you outside of your teacher role. He actually wanted to do this the right way.

"You fuck my brains out last week and I'm just a friend now?" He heard you comment in his ear and he groaned out.

"C'mon, that's not fair." He leaned back into the couch, his forearm over his eyes now as he basically had two women all over him, pressing him with way too many questions for his liking.

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Leon. I get it." There was humor in your voice, lightheartedness and even though he couldn't see you, he had a feeling you had that gentle smile on your lips. That eased the pressure on his chest.

"Listen sweetheart, it's almost Izzy's bedtime," His eyes were on Izzy now, and with his eyes he was nudging at her to start wrapping up her game. She pouted, but didn't otherwise fuss. "Call you in an hour?"

You both had this dumb, lovesick smile on your face, if only you could see the other.

"I'll be up."

The warm water, the foaming body wash and the intoxicating smell of your favorite candle had done wonders to relax you. When you left the bathtub you felt like a whole new person. Though there still this tug of butterflies in your stomach as you anxiously waited for Leon to call you.

You sat on the edge of the tub, warm and fluffy robe wrapped around your naked body as you mindlessly scrolled through your social media for a little while before you decided to check out for the night. You nearly slipped right off the tile when your phone buzzed and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine.

"Hey, sorry about, y’know, earlier. Izzy and I are like that." You smiled at the sound of Leon's voice, now a bit hushed but more relaxed and carefree, like he now could say whatever the fuck he wanted.

"It's okay. It was cute, hearing how you talk to her. You're sweet." You smiled to yourself, and you could hear him breathe out a soft laugh, most likely a bit flustered by your words, but he otherwise didn't show it. "You put her to sleep though?"

"Yeah, I stayed with her 'til she fell asleep. I'm in my bedroom now, about to take a shower." He said the words slowly, with purpose, like he wanted you to think about it like he had been thinking about you, taking that bath. "So, you take your bath yet?"

"Yeah, it was nice. I definitely needed it. I could've used some company though." You bit your lip, testing his reaction. There was silence, then he hummed.

"Yeah? That so?" Now it was your turn to hum in agreement, your legs instinctively closing as you tried to soothe the ache between your thighs. "I'm sure you could've. Would've been nice to have someone hold you, right? Have someone leave kisses on your wet skin, say how good you're doing while getting your pretty pussy fingered?"

You couldn't hold back the moan that left your throat at his words, and your free hand instantly traveled down, stopping at your belly.

"Oh, that's a sound I'll never get tired of hearing. Fuck, you're already moaning for me and I'm not even there to give you a reason." He exhaled out a chuckle, his hardening cock starting to press against his sweatpants.

"Fuck, I really wish you were here." You sighed out, your hand itching closer towards your already wet cunt, but you knew it wasn't your touch you ached for. It was Leon's.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You whined softly, your phone almost slipping off your grip as your head fell to the side. "Leon…"

"Tell me."

"Because… I really, really, need you to touch me, hold me, ugh— I just need you to fuck me, Leon."

Leon clenched his fist as his side, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he listened to your desperate words, and the sound shot straight to his cock. Fuck, he'd be lying if he said he didn't need you, too.

"Goddamn baby," He grunted softly, his hand now brushing the front of his sweats, where his cock strained against the material, and he tried to muffle the sound between his teeth, but you heard it anyway. "You have no fucking idea how much I've been wanting to ruin that pussy of yours again. It's actually driving me crazy."

You shuddered, the ache between your legs starting to become unbearable. "I really want to see you too, baby."

Leon closed his eyes, biting his lip raw as he thought fuck it. He could explain in the morning.

"Fuck it, just fuck it. Wanna take the drive here? I swear I'll give you exactly what you need and it'll be so worth it."

You'd like to think you were a rational person, you always thought things through twice, three times if necessary. You didn't take risks, much less acted in a way that could be considered immoral, but for Leon? Fuck, for that man you would become the biggest whore in this world if it meant he would take you just one more time.

"Be there in thirty."

Fuck it.

Sneak peek of A Love Game Part II, coming soon

His lips were hard on your own, messy on your jaw, like he didn't know which part he wanted to kiss more. Your fingers were entangled in his perfectly soft honey brown strands, already melting under his touch. His hand came up under your jaw to grip your face in place, long fingers sprawled out over your neck. He pulled you back by your face and his eyes were hard on you, with this mixture of authority and utter need to fuck you. He could be both.

"This is how this is gonna be. I'm going to throw you on that bed and fuck you the way you deserve. But I better not hear a single fucking sound leave those pretty lips of yours. Not tonight. Got it?"

Stay tuned for upcoming parts lovelies. Besitos<3

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