#although I guess this is a thing in one way or another throughout most of the world

[firstkanaphans]

I've noticed this (as a majorly JD fan) that most people like to complain about fixed cps when it comes to FirstKhao only! It's more apparent when there are mostly no (or less) talk about it when long term CPs keep doing shows together (I mean OG are having their 7th show as a pair coming this gmmtv 2025 and they will be very much welcomed).

There is even demand for CPs that are no longer together to come back (like MaxTul -btw I love them and would love them to so another show together although I know Tul is retired from acting and so that's not gonna happen).

In short- why is there demand for FirstKhao to do works separately and not as a pair? (They have only 2 shows as a pair til now. THK is going to be their 3rd.) Is it because The Eclipse or Only Friends were not that well received?

The Eclipse and Only Friends were both incredibly well-received and were two of the most popular BLs GMMTV has put out in years, so it’s definitely not that. I’m hesitant to tell you what I really think because I’m worried I’ll get canceled for it, but I’ve already blocked everyone who disagrees with me and I’ve now reached the anger stage of my election grief so hey, what the hell.

If you want my honest opinion about why FirstKhaotung seem to be the primary target for this War on CPs, we need to go back to the Only Friends era. It’s important to note that this particular argument against CPs seems to be entirely isolated to Tumblr. Plenty of people dislike CPs or think there should be more mixing and matching of pairs, but that’s not the argument I’m talking about. What you see people saying on Tumblr is that CPs are actively ruining the industry and that writers and directors are going so far as to obstruct themselves creatively just so CPs can end up together. The first time I ever heard rumblings of this was during Only Friends.

Here’s the thing about Only Friends. Before it aired—and even in the beginning stages of it airing—a bunch of the more, ahem, “intellectual” fans seemed to have some very grand delusions about what it was and what it wasn’t. Delusions that were never supported by the canon or anyone involved in the creative process. Throughout this, a bunch of us “fangirls” (gender neutral) tried to fight back and tell them they were misreading the text, but the general consensus was that obviously we didn’t know what we were talking about because we were just fangirls.

But then guess who turned out to have interpreted the text correctly all along?

All of our predictions came true while none of theirs did and instead of admitting that maybe they weren’t engaging with this particular piece of media the way it was meant to be engaged with, they started inventing conspiracy theories about how the series would have ended differently if only it weren’t for those meddling CPs! The FK fandom has a huge faction here on Tumblr and I fear FK took most of the brunt of their anger—and is still taking it even now.

I just…imagine thinking Jojo Tichakorn secretly hates CPs and is being forced to use them against his will. Jojo Tichakorn? The same Jojo Tichakorn that’s been tweeting about SkyNani nonstop for the past month?! This man is inventing CPs that don’t even exist yet! He is one of us.

My truth is that most of this anger at CPs is actually just thinly veiled misogyny because it revs up anytime a true romance starts getting attention (such as We Are). Romances have always been overlooked and seen as “less than” simply because it is a genre enjoyed by women, but romances have just as much value as any other genre of media and despite popular belief, fangirls are capable of critical thought.

My advice? Just go on a blocking spree before THK airs because it’s only going to get worse. People hate to see women enjoying things.

[fragiledewdrop]

I went to the market today, and it reminded me that the biggest curlural disconnect I've ever experienced on the internet was finding out that Americans and a lot of Northern Europeans think of the farmer's market as this pretentious, expensive place where people go to buy overpriced organic produce from neat, quaint little stalls.

In my experience, you go to the market because things are way cheaper than at the store. You can buy fruit and vegetables for a third of the price, and clothes and jewellery for less than 10 €. The market is where the vendors yell to get your attention, and they let you try the fruit you want to buy (which means the street is littered with fruit stones and rinds), where there are speakers that blast out obnoxious neapolitan music, where everybody speaks dialect and no one uses the formal "you", where you can dig through haphazard piles of second hand clothes to find skirts or dresses for 1€ a pop, where they sell flowers and small farm animals and pots and pans, where you have to know how to haggle (I used to go with my grandmother as a child. I don't think that woman ever paid full price for anything in the 87 years of her life), where the whole town stops to chat and gossip, where children play loudly and old people spend the whole morning.

There's a mix of cultures and languages, and there are people from all walks of life.

It smells of sweat, overripe fruit, salt, and fresh fish.

It's probably the least glamourous or pretentious place I have ever seen.

In my hometown, the market is held on Thursdays on the street where I live, and there’s no better feeling than being woken up by someone yelling "Come on, beautiful ladies! We have fresh tomatoes!"

Thursday has always been my favourite day, purely because of that. One of my earliest memories is tagging along with my grandpa through the stalls, eating black olives from a plastic bag and spitting out the pits.

It's messy, and it's my happy place, and I am honestly sad that a lot of people don't get to experience it.

[misshugs]

Is this what you wanted to see? || Colby Brock x Reader

You thought it was just going to be another funny, intriguing investigation with the guys, but things went south real quick. Whatever was in this hotel, didn't like you.

warnings: gore/blood, cursing, violent paranormal activity, reader getting attacked by ghosts, seeing shit that's not there (aka, being a bit of a medium), angst?

a/n: the story is fictional, therefore, the place/video that I based the story from, is not real.

word count: 2k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"What's up guys! It's Sam and Colby. Today, we're standing right infront of one of the most haunted hotels in America..." Colby began.

The frame of my body visible to the camera as they continued their intro. I threw a tiny wave when they called out my name to the camera.

At this point I'm so used to all of this that Colby doesn't even need to ask if I'm okay with it anymore, although he still does, which I love about him.

We've been dating for months now and I swear that I'm just falling deeper in love every day. I didn't even notice myself staring lovingly at him throughout their intro to the point they had to shake me out of it.

"You good?" Nate asked, I looked up at him and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, just zoned out for a little bit, my bad." I smiled at him and he nodded.

"Just making sure."

"You guys ready?" Sam asked, looking at us.

"Yessir!" Nate responded.

"As I'll ever be." I added.

"We'll see you guys inside." Colby said back to the camera and turned it off. He looked back at us and smiled. "So, shall we?"

"We shall." I responded, laughing slightly as I got closer to him and walked inside with them. While they weren't looking, I felt a short kiss on my cheek coming from him, which just made me smile wider.

God, I love him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

While we were all walking through a corridor, I looked back and saw an employee with a tray of food. He saw me and I nodded with a smile at him as a kind gesture. He smiled and nodded back. I looked back at the boys, only to slightly look back for a second and then completely looking back in shock.

There was no one there. It would've been impossible for someone to run and hide in that short amount of time.

Was it my imagination or did that really just happen? It seemed too real to be true.

"Co..Colby." I softly said, as my feet were unable to move after the thought of having seen something so real, yet not being there.

"Yeah?" He looked back, so did the other two. "You okay? What happened?" He got closer and looked at my face then back to the corridor, trying to see what I was looking at.

"I... there was someone here. An employee... with... a tray. I looked at him, even greeted him for a second and when I looked back he was... gone."

"No fucking way." Sam said.

"Are you serious?? You're telling me you just saw a full-on person then it disappeared?" Nate asked, shocked.

"I guess, yeah?"

"Oh, this is gonna be a good night." Sam put the camera on my face. "One of us already saw something unexplainable, wish that would've been me." He laughed.

"Next thing we know you begin to levitate brother." Colby laughed back.

I laughed as well, trying to brush away the thought of genuinely seeing a ghost.

All night, I've ended up having this eerie feeling of someone just watching us, but there was no one around. I tried to hide my uneasiness but Colby saw through me right away.

Every time he noticed, he began to flirt with me, making me feel good the best way he knows how. "You know we can just leave if you're too uncomfortable, baby." He kissed my forehead, putting his arms on my shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, I'm good. If I couldn't handle it, I would tell you right away."

"You better." He chuckled and kissed me, making all of my stress go away for a moment.

I can't lie, it did make me feel better, but somehow it just made things worse. I started seeing figures at the corners of my eyes, movements around me where nobody was walking around, even feeling touched a few times around my shoulders, hands and even ass. It felt weird, it made my anxiety grow by the minute, but somehow, it felt safe because of Colby.

And so, we ended the tour of the place and thought about trying to get some activity at around 3 in the morning. Meaning, we had nothing else to do. I was already tired enough, feeling as if the energy in my body has been drained to its core. I believed that it was solely because of the much walking and anxiety that was rising constantly.

Although the others planned on staying awake until the hour came, I told them I will try and get some sleep. And so, they would wake me up when the time comes.

Lying in the bed, I didn't stay up for long until my eyelids were closed and my brain just shut down. Usually, I'm quite the light sleeper, but this time I was knocked out.

Until I felt it.

I felt some hands on my legs. Honestly, I wasn't conscious enough to know if it was in my dreams or in real life. It turns out, it was real. And it wasn't Colby, or anyone else. But I felt it, tight on my leg. I couldn't even think right before I felt a pull and suddenly I was on the floor.

I could feel a sharp pain on my head as it was the first thing that touched the floor. I quickly woke up, shaken up by the sudden act. I whined in pain as the other seemingly stood up from their places and looked at me, possibly concerned, believing I might've just moved and fallen off the bed.

Before they even got closer, I got pulled back. This time, being completely awake, I yelled out, looking back at whatever force was holding my legs, one to see nothing at all.

And it was at that point when I felt genuine fear. I tried my hardest to hold onto the floor or anything really, but to no avail. Tears filling my tired eyes as I tried to focus my vision to the things around me. Next thing I knew I was thrown onto the wall, my back throbbing with pain as I felt a huge headache from the mild concussion I probably had after all of this.

To this point, everyone was frightened. Fear made them almost unable to walk, talk even. I could see them, their scared faces, trying to do something but there was this tension that made them... stop in place. Like this pressure, this force that was throwing me around like a ragdoll. They couldn't help me, it seemed.

At least in my point of view.

Unbeknownst to me, they were actually trying to set themselves free from this invisible pressure. Trying to move, but feeling like they've had a ton of weight on top of them that they couldn't escape from.

As I fell to the floor, I tried to gain back my breathing. Shaking on the floor, I looked up and saw Colby screaming my name while being set free from the pressure, running towards me. I looked at him with hope in my eyes, trying to pull my arm up to hold him, only to feel myself getting pulled again. This time, thrown towards the couch.

Although the direct hit to the couch didn't feel as bad, I had enough force to fall back behind the couch and to the floor. Since I tried to hold myself with the couch, unfortunately, it leaned back on itself and fell on top of me. Just the cherry on top.

I whined in pain, unable to move, stuck underneath the couch with bruises all over my body and the wet feeling of warm liquid on my back and the top of my head, wishing it would've only been sweat.

My vision was blurry.

My senses were all fucked up.

It all happened so quick that I don't think even they would've reacted in time even if they were able to move freely.

With my eyes closed, I could feel the pressure from the couch lift from my chest and a pair of arms holding me tightly.

"Oh my fucking god. Oh shit. Fuck. We need to get the fuck out of here." I heard Colby desperately scream. As I opened my eyes, I could see his teary ones. Holding me onto his arms, his eyes filled with guilt and fear. "Are you okay? Fuck..."

"Hurts..." I was able to whisper out those words, shaking and I feel myself coughing onto my hand. Looking back at the now blood-drenched hand, the pain began to intensify. My vision kept on failing, only able to see blobs of colors here and there.

Colby held me on his arms and pulled me up from the floor, which made me whimper in pain, feeling my back getting even more wet by the moment.

"Shit. Her back is bleeding... Fuck." I could hear Sam's shaky voice as I tried to gain back my breath, trying to calm myself down as I heard the rapidly increasing heartbeat of Colby.

Somehow, it made me feel okay. Being by his side, the rush of everything around almost seemed softer, calmer. I could no longer listen to everything that was going on.

Muffled sounds were the only thing that could pass through.

Yelling.

Moving.

A tight squeeze.

I felt numb. For a moment, at least.

My name.

I heard my name and suddenly, I was conscious again. I blinked a few times and looked up at the desperate Colby. "Please... tell me you're okay... fuck..." His tears probably blurring his eyesight.

A glimpse of strength came back to me and I was able to touch his cheek with my hand. He quickly looked down at me. "I'm fine... I'm fine..."

"Right after we walk out of the room..." Nate pointed out, holding all of their stuff in their hands.

"We need to get the fuck out of here and get her to a hospital." Sam said, walking quickly with the others. I was confused, seemingly forgetting for a brief moment about how I was brutally assaulted by a ghost.

"Hospital? Why are we going to a hos..." As I was talking, I realized why they were hurriedly walking away. I felt the pain all over again. I groaned at the feeling, shaking on Colby's arms.

"You'll be okay, you're going to be fine. Don't move. Deep breaths, baby." Colby tried to calm me down, his shaky breath giving away his anxiety.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

My back was all bruised up. I had some unknown hand marks on my legs, where I was pulled from. Some scratches tinted my back red when I got into the ER, as well as a few bumps in my head that gave me a red face.

The memories of what happened were blurry, yet so vivid.

And the only thing keeping me conscious was him. I could see it in his face, he felt guilty. Guilty for something that wasn't even his fault.

"Shouldn't have let you go with us... we should've stopped when you began to see so many things... I'm so stupid." He whispered under his breath.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." I said. He reluctantly looked up and into my eyes. I smiled. "It wasn't your fault. Nothing about this could've been predicted, alright? Don't blame yourself." He smiled slightly, only to sigh.

"Yeah, but..." I interrupted him.

"No buts. I'm fine. I'm still here, with you. Right?" I responded, softly while holding his hand. "No need to feel guilty, no need to be sorry. You just have to promise me a good time when I get out of here, yeah? And a good meal." I smiled. "Food here kinda taste like shit." He chuckled, making me smile even more. "That's the face I like to see."

"I love you, so much." He said, holding my hand up to his lips and leaving a soft kiss on them, making my cheeks flutter by the site of his sensitive side.

"I love you too. Now, do that again, but closer to my face."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

it's been a while since i've written something like this, and honestly i just remembered how fun and angsty it is to write about getting literally beaten up by a ghost lmao

hope you liked it, requests are appreciated!

-nikkõ

[delirious-donna]

The Oral Lesson

an: the amount of time I spend thinking about these two men and how badly they might share a lover would probably see me on some kind of watch list… it’s more than time I put pen to paper, so to speak. This could be a series, maybe? Perhaps..? Depends on engagement (and I don’t mean likes alone!)

premise: It was meant to be a forbidden fantasy, one that would never become reality, but when you open your eyes to find the Hokage’s loyal guard dog on his knees before you, you know things have changed. However, it would be some time before you realise the enormity of this moment…

pairing: Hokage Kakashi x female reader x ANBU Obito

warnings: canon divergent (Obito always lives in my fics), NSFW throughout, without spoiling everything - its reader receiving oral, power play between the men, reader is married to Kakashi, reader is assumed curvy, touch starved is not the potential name of the series for no reason

There were no two ways about it, this had to be a dream.

The pinnacle of wet dreams that you would reminisce about for months, perhaps years, to come. Except the hand curled lightly around the column of your throat was all too realistic to be fantasy. Too familiar with roughened callouses covering the fingertips and edging the broad palm.

Kakashi Hatake—your husband.

His unique scent of oak-smoked wood chips, and that subtly sweet hint that you had never been able to give a name, filled your nose. At times, you would swear his scent reminded you of the scorched earth after a lightning strike, and it was true right now.

Your eyes flickered open, audibly gasping to see an ANBU shinobi sitting on his haunches before you. The mask was one you were all too familiar with, the painted whorls of the Hokage’s personal guard and you were privileged to know his true name… Obito Uchiha.

This couldn’t be happening. The teasing from moments ago felt like a lifetime passed and you squirmed atop Kakashi’s lap but were unable to escape. Do you really wish to? A small voice in your head said that you should, that what was being suggested was wrong but how badly you had desired this very outcome blew away those prim and proper reservations.

“Her pulse shot through the roof when you looked at her, Obito. I told you that she wanted this…”

You gasped to hear your husband speak about you like this, though the words were not untrue. The hollows of the eye holes shifted from deep midnight pits to blazing crimson orbs that seared your skin with tantalising warm fire without so much as touching you. His breathing was becoming laboured as he sat there, hands laying flat on his thighs in a position of submission.

Obito was only this composed and subservient for one man—your man—and it aroused you to see that there was a strain in his posture to maintain his stance. The threads of his compliance frayed beneath the weight of his desire.

“Kashi,” you breathed, voice barely more than a whisper though your gaze never left Obito’s. Your tongue felt thick and heavy in your mouth, the thin cotton of your dress smothering despite being lightweight and flimsy on your body. The heat of Kakashi’s body beneath you certainly didn’t help matters, nor did the intense fiery blaze you were captivated by.

He hummed in response. “Hm? Something to say, sweetheart? Weren’t you just finishing telling me that you’d let him put his hands and mouth on you if I agreed?”

With an embarrassed moan, you tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck. Mortified beyond belief that Kakashi would so openly admit the hushed words of your most forbidden fantasies, ones you never thought would come to fruition.

“Don’t be shy, my love. Obito feels the same way, although I guess you didn’t know that,” Kakashi drawled with such measured control that you were reminded exactly how he reached this position of power. Not many could act so calmly in high-pressure situations, but Kakashi excelled where others failed. Simply another reason to love him as much as you did.

Obito hadn’t said a word up to this point, not even the smallest sound escaped his mouth and you marvelled at his self-control. The metal arm guards that normally covered his forearms were nowhere to be seen, the same for the grey flak jacket you were accustomed to.

Now, he knelt on the floor in only the standard ANBU dark pants, a black sleeveless compression shirt that covered up to his throat and equally black gloves that ended halfway up his biceps.

You were endlessly fascinated by those biceps.

The way they bulged when his hands curled into fists only to flatten back into some semblance of submission seconds later. Your breathing became harsh watching the action be repeated in an endless loop. Without realising, you pushed yourself upright on Kakashi’s lap, your fingers curling into his forearm each time Obito made his own fists until you made indents with the edges of his nails.

Behind you, Kakashi smiled. “You’ve been rather quiet, Obito… don’t you have anything to say to my wife?”

“I… don’t know if that would be wise, Lord Sixth,” Obito muttered after a long drawn-out moment of silence. His voice was deeper than Kakashi, rougher around the edges and you could hear the forced formality enough to know it grated down his spine to speak this way.

The three of you had shared many casual moments, it was a given since the two men were friends and rivals from years gone past. Heavens, you had cooked for this man. Shared stories of their youth over bottles of wine. Patched rips in his uniform.

Kakashi clicked his tongue. “Lose the airs and graces, you’re not here as my guard. Speak freely and tell my wife how much you covet her.”

You gasped, turning your head to meet charcoal eyes filled with humour, but while you stared, you could make out a darkness that spoke of something else. A power play? It should make you feel vulnerable… used, yet it was quite the opposite.

To be desired by two powerful men, one the Hokage and the other the current highest-ranking ANBU captain in Konoha. Your beloved husband and his best friend, though both would try to deny such a claim. You were damp between your thighs, arousal pooling into the seat of your underwear and it warmed your cheeks until you were certain it was obvious.

“It’s true. I’ve wanted a taste of what you have for some time now. Not that I would have ever done anything about it!” He asserted, eyes never leaving your face whilst he spoke to the man at your back. “But if she is willing and you… are willing to share—”

“Under my supervision and guidance only. Take off the mask, let our pretty girl see you without the guise of an animal,” Kakashi interjected whilst pressing a kiss to your neck.

The animal mask fell to the side, skittering across the floor and out of sight. It left only the man. The scars on his face from years gone by did nothing to detract from how handsome he was. His lips were pleasingly plump, nose nice and straight and those eyes��those beautiful expressive eyes—were easy to fall into and lose yourself entirely. Even without the Sharingan activated, you were drawn to those dark, all-seeing eyes.

“May he touch you, sweetheart? Shall I teach him how to please you? Let us see if he can make you mewl as I can,” he hummed, nipping at your ear and drawing his hands higher to paw lightly at your breasts.

A nod was all you could manage, followed by yet another gasp of alarm when Obito leaned close and kissed the outside of your knee. He’d moved so swiftly that following the movement was impossible.

His touch was delicate, careful as if he worried you’d break if he were to show his true colours. With his assistance, you spread your legs until they bracketed the outside of Kakashi’s beneath you. The man in question gripped at your dress and bunched it higher until your underwear came into view.

Obito appeared transfixed and a vein popped in his temple from tightly he held his jaw. The muscles of his biceps bulged against the snug hold of his long gloves and when he raised a hand to touch your pubic mound through the cotton fabric, you sighed breathily and shifted your hips.

“Is she wet?”

His crimson eyes shot up to yours, searching for permission to reply, and you smiled kindly, a wave of affection forming in your chest. “Y-yes. Right here…” Obito stroked his gloved fingertip over the small damp patch.

“I’m not surprised, she’s been squirming ever since you came in. Perhaps, I should have arranged this sooner,” Kakashi mused quietly whilst leaning back in his chair so your butt was in the air. “Take them off her, please.”

“Kashi, I can…” You tried to free your arms to help shimmy out of the troublesome underwear but a bite to your collarbone silenced you. The sting of sharp canines elicited a slow pant from your throat, your sight growing hazy and before you knew it, a cool breeze played across your bare pussy.

The chill wind didn’t last, it was replaced by warm lips on the inside of your thigh, thick black hair obscuring your view and you clung to Kakashi at the shiver that rippled down your spine. His breathing was steady in your ear, the feel of a smile on your skin whilst Obito pressed kisses, which started gentle, to your plush flesh until they were messy and open-mouthed.

“You can be a little rough with her, she likes it… don’t you, my precious girl?”

Despite his continued presence and hold on your throat and breasts, you jerked in alarm when Kakashi spoke. The implication of the statement had you clenching around air and you heard Obito’s muffled groan when he too noticed.

“Mhm. Please. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something,” you managed after licking your parched lips.

Obito wasted no time in nudging his nose along your labia, smelling you until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and parted your folds with two thick fingers. You could feel all the blood in your body zero in on your core, skin becoming puffy in anticipation. Scintillating wet warmth sent a hiss through your clenched teeth, the path of his tongue along the full length of your slit arching your spine and forcing your heaving breasts further into your husband’s grasp.

The man on his knees glanced up at you through his eyelashes, careful to judge your every movement and noise for possible signs of distress but he found none. The strong muscle created wave-like patterns over your achingly empty hole and passed it to just below your pert clit. It was a sensation you were unaccustomed to, but it scratched an itch you didn’t even know you had.

Your eyes flickered shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth. You were ready to absorb every stroke and touch, every wet-sounding kiss and the melody of three people breathing in tandem, but Kakashi had other ideas. How he even knew your eyes had fallen closed, you weren’t sure, but he withdrew his hand from your chest to click his fingers. It was a soft click, enough to cause your eyes to spring wide and you tilted your head back to meet his hooded gaze.

“You really should watch whilst our guest eats you out, dear, it’s only polite. How is he doing? Make sure he knows what you want.”

His voice was a whole octave lower and you could feel the rigid length of his erection pressed firmly into your lower back. He was turned on by the act he was witnessing and that only served to stoke your fires higher.

As if to prove a point before you could speak, Obito licked across the surface of your clit for the first time. It was barely a kitten lick but it was more than ample to short-circuit your brain. Your brows knitted together, mouth falling into a deep oval of enthralment at being teased like this. In response, your hips undulated only to be trapped in two gloved palms.

“So good… I-I want more,” you admitted with your shuttered stare being met with a blazing inferno that looked more than ready to blow.

Kakashi licked over a fresh mark he’d not long finished sucking into your neck, the act of possession was not lost on anyone in the room and he chuckled softly. “Mhm, give the lady what she wants, Obito. I want to hear how she sounds coming apart by your hand and mouth.”

Obito sat back for a moment, his lips swelling steadily from his actions and skin coated in a thin sheen of your slick. Strands of his black hair stuck to his forehead and you reached forward to brush them back, warmed when he nuzzled into the heart of your palm. You missed the heat of his mouth on you, squirming around to find a position that would alleviate the ache growing rapidly in the pit of your belly.

“Lo—Kakashi, I want to fuck her with my fingers. Is that… uh, is that okay?”

The furious flush that washed over his cheeks was downright adorable, as was how he refused to meet your eye while your husband pretended to ponder. You knew he’d allow it, it was something you had discussed before this even beginning, back when you were certain it would remain a fantasy.

“Who do you wish to fuck with your fingers?” Kakashi prompted, the smile evident in his words and you whined in protest. It earned you a pinch to your nipple, enough to silence you.

Obito cleared his throat, swallowing down his pride in search of what he wanted above all else. “Your wife. I want to fuck your wife with my fingers. Please.” The nicety was forced, his nostrils flaring as if ready for a verbal argument but none came.

“My wife, that’s right. Do as you please, just make her cum nice and loud.”

This side of Kakashi rarely came out—the cool demeanour which spoke of calculating control. It made you weak at the knees, heart in your throat whenever he set those predatory eyes on you and you could well understand Obito’s reaction to the pulse of dominant power. He too was used to being an alpha presence given his line of work, and especially since he chose to become the Hokage’s personal guard. A decision he would never have made for anyone other than Kakashi.

The power play ignited the room with dense tension that felt like swimming through honey, and to realise that you were the object of affection, the reason this was even happening in the first place… you didn’t feel worthy.

However, you had no time to process these thoughts as the man on the floor took his permission with a sharp nod of his head and lunged for you. The poor little mouse was trapped by the jaws of a lion, but this feline was far from going to harm you. Instead, he was gentle despite how eagerly he moved.

His tongue bathed your tender pearl in his spit, lapping it incessantly until he changed directions and suckled you between his lips. You cried out, only to be blindsided by the intrusion of two thick fingers. Whilst you had focused on the mouth set to wring you dry of your bliss, you hadn’t noticed the dance of his fingers which collected your nectar to coat his gloves.

The warm leather rubbed soft friction into your velvet walls, stretching you just right. It felt wonderful, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it would feel more so without the gloves in the way. A small voice in the back of your head boldly decided that you would request his bare hands the next time.

Next time… Would there even be a next time to speak of? You didn’t know, but you could hope.

Kakashi’s breath fanned your wildly beating pulse, smearing open-mouthed kisses in between words of encouragement. His voice was your guide when you couldn’t keep your eyes open. When you did finally find the resolve to pry them apart, you found your hand tangled at the roots of Obito’s midnight black hair.

He was working you closer and closer to the point of no return, wet slurps mingled with your moans of more and the steady rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His wrist rotated suddenly, fingertips brushing that deep area of sensitive tissue that your own fingers could never reach.

“Oh. Fuck… right there. Obito, don’t stop.”

Both men jolted at your keening declarations; Obito glanced up with his chin shiny with the gloss of your making, cheeks flushed from where your thighs had crushed around his head, and Kakashi groaned deep in his throat.

His slender fingers lowered the neck of your dress and repeated the action with the cups of your bra. He licked his thumb and finger and rolled your nipple between, drawing it out taut until you whimpered and struggled. “Ah ah, don’t thrash. Look down and see how well my guard dog is eating you out, beloved.”

You tightened instinctively, squeezing around Obito’s fingers, who doubled down on the pace he stroked you to. His nose ground at the hood of your clit, tongue swiping left and right then up and down. He was losing his restraint, pushing into you only to be met by the force of you rutting your cunt into him. A growl rumbled in his chest at being called a guard dog, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Gods, you wanted to be full. To cum around more than just fingers and feel how they would react to you orgasming on their cock. Did you want your husband or Obito or… both? The thought alone tripped your orgasm into effect. You were barely aware of Obito pulling his wet fingers from your cunt to press his tongue into your fluttering hole instead, intent on catching every drop of your nectar and swallowing it greedily.

Kakashi cooed soft words in your ear, coaxing you through your high and stroking over your hair whilst you sobbed from the overwhelming and continued stimulation from the plush muscle digging into you in search of your slick. Those wet gloved hands gripped into the meat of your thighs, keeping you open and forcing you to endure what he wanted to give.

“Obito, enough. Let our little flower catch her breath.” You heard the command distantly, twitching and still seeking out grounding from your high.

Dazedly, you blinked and moaned anew at the expression written across Obito’s face. His cheeks were ruddy, lips swollen with blood and the lower half of his face streaked with a mixture of your arousal and his spit. His chest heaved with the struggle of retreating, every muscle in his body tense and straining and how badly you wanted to reach out and comfort him.

“Kashi, sweetheart, let me go to him?” You asked softly, turning so your words were in his ear, your lips on his neck. He regarded you with a look of unconditional love, eyes softened with affection and a smile decorating his lips which was a far cry from the cool power play of earlier.

He kissed you on the forehead, fixing your dress to cover your exposed breasts and lowering the hem. A lone finger traced the curve of your jaw, moving to brush over your lips and you caught him by surprise by pressing them to his and savouring the warmth of his mouth.

Kakashi was familiar with being touch-starved, as were you. It was something that helped to bind you together in those early days and you both recognised that Obito was also touch-starved and in need of a demonstration of how welcoming love and affection could be. He nodded, his nose nudging along yours and embracing you with delicate care.

“Show him how amazing it can feel. I trust you, both of you.” Kakashi added those final words loud enough for Obito to hear. His eyebrows pinched in confusion, but he had no time to assess the meaning when you slid from your husband’s lap only to be caught by Obito.

You wound your arms around his neck and settled your head right there in the crook. Twisting your fingers into the hairs at his nape, you pressed kisses to his shoulder until he finally placed his hands on your waist. His touch was unsure, body rigid with nerves and you could understand.

“Thank you, Obito… you made me feel more alive than I thought possible. Let me hold you, it’s okay.”

His chin dipped until his cheek rested on your shoulder and some of the tension drained from his body. It had meant to be a fantasy scenario of being shared but it would be so much more than that in time and you would discover this in the months to come.

For now, you calmed your racing heart and gave the man held in your arms a piece of you that was worth more than any orgasm. All under the watchful and loving eye of your husband, the master strategist…

Taglist: @angelic-muse @actuallysaiyan @angel-teeth @adharadotcom @whatshernameis @rookie98writes @basementqueercock @valleyxdoodles @snapemalfoy @fiestynatureweeb @mel-star636 @karleequinn @he-art-pulp @half-baked-biscuit

[transmascaraa]

Noelle Anon here! I loved your work! It was so cute and made my little sapphic heart explode! Could I maybe request the same thing with other genshin girls of your choosing? I just love them all so much!!!! Maybe with fem!reader this time?

Have a good night/day! <3

multiple characters headcannons!

cooking with them...

characters: furina, sucrose, arlecchino, navia x fem!reader

author's note: hiiiii i haven't written in a while😭 didn't have much time and not too much motivation for writing lmfao but now i'm here to write this because the req is adorable! i chose women that i thought you'd like because everyone likes them i guess so yeah<3 i hope you enjoy this and i tried my best to write smthn wlw i hope it's good enough

♡ Furina

-we all know how she's not one of the best cooks. so, you being one makes it a bit better.

-still, if you wanted to cook WITH her, then the food would probably just have to be macaroni.

-not gonna judge, i love it js as much as she does.

-you decided to get prepared one day, to cook together, and prepare a meal for one another!

-although you know that the only options you had were macaroons and macaroni, where she only had one option.

-so you started cooking macaroons.

-it is always SO fun to cook with her. she's always smiling and talking with you, talking about the most random things ever.

-of course, if you don't like talking much, she'll talk less but not be quiet entirely.

-know that you're gonna get a few kisses during the tiem being.

-and when you finally finish both of your meals, and prepare them for eachother, furina literally has a new shine in her eyes.

-when she tried it, she mumbled something that she thought you wouldn't hear

-"i don't care. this is my new favorite food."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✿ Sucrose

-she's like noelle, so i think you get the point what she'd be like.

-whatever you'd cook for eachother, she'd like it. and the other way around.

-the cooking experience with her is very calming, too.

-you might chit-chat about something randomly but know that it's mostly quiet with the sounds of nature from outside.

-if you liked to talk a lot tho, she had no problem of listening to your pretty voice while she cooked something for you.

-you made a cheesecake for her!

-setting the table together, and finally sitting down to try the food.

-whatever she made you, it was really decorated and the only thing that you knew that it was some type of cake.

-and she recognized that your's is a cheesecake almost immediately.

-when she tried it, she started talking to you, blushing a bit, about how much she's grateful for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✧ Arlecchino

-i'm pretty sure this isn't too ooc

-now, what i know is that she's definitely a great cook.

-i mean, she's a 'father', a parent to her children, of course she knows how to cook!

-so you had no problems asking her to cook with her. you knew that the kitchen wouldn't be burned down. hopefully.

-alright, you start cooking something that everyone likes, cupcakes! but the ones that you were able to make for her were cherry ones!

-arlecchino wasn't entirely quiet throughout the cooking either. it was either you or her talking with some kisses that can't be missed. she talked about her kids and her missions, while you either talked about her work in return, or about why you still love her despite it all.

-when you finish cooking and come to the dinner table with her, there's not much reaction on her face yet, unlike your's which was clearly happy.

-she made you cinnamon rolls!

-(i'm sorry if it's something you don't like)

-when she tried the cherry cupcake, you got a smirk from her.

-"you're a good cook, pretty girl."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✯ Navia

-this girl will make you the best food ever. she will take this activity very seriously with you.

-usually, you'd think that maybe the conversations that you'd have throughout the process very little, but that's not the case.

-she would talk with you the whole time.

-"i remember once when i was little..."

-"do you remember when i..."

-"can you pass me the sugar?"

-you get the point.

-of course, she won't miss the chance to give you a few kisses.

-and finally when you cooked eachother the "special food", turns out the both of you made macaroons for eachother.

-that just resulted in a laugh from you both as you now started talking about whose are better.

-she said yours were better.

-but you denied and said the opposite.

-however you look at it, cooking with her is a great experience to not only get to know eachother better, but also just for the fun of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay i love this one

it's so cute

i hope anyone who reads it likes it, especially you anon because i liked the noelle req too!!^^

| @mariaace <3

[michelle-is-writing]

Protector, Warren Worthington iii

Word Count: 4.5k~

I had been best friends with Warren ever since I met him.

Throughout our years in school, Warren and I had always stuck by each other's side. We hung out together, ate lunch with each other, and nearly forgot about all those people around us who would point out his wings to hurt him. It was like we were in our own little world, and in a way, we were.

We met in the second grade while our class was in the library. While looking for a book, I found Warren, huddled up behind a bookshelf in the elementary school library. He was red in the face and crying as he held his knees close to him. Instantly, I noticed his wings, of course - how could I not?

However, this didn't stop me from going up and asking him what was wrong. I can still remember the way his curls bounced against his scalp as he turned his attention away from his lap and up to me, quickly wiping away his tears to cover up his emotions. Despite being so young, he knew how to expertly do this as he pretended that nothing was wrong and he wasn't crying merely thirty seconds ago.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting beside him. I saw him tense up, his back straightening up as he laid his legs out in front of him instead of hugging them to his chest.

"Nothing," He instantly answered me, once again, pretending as if everything wasn't as it seemed.

Instead of saying anything more, I let the boldness I had as an eight-year-old takeover and pulled him into my arms, his figure becoming even tenser. Although, he didn't pull away, and instead, just stayed in that position until I spoke up.

"The kids are mean to me too," I told him, his breath catching in his throat. "And they shouldn't be because you seem pretty cool," I explained with a smile as he turned his eyes up to look at me again. "No one else here has wings, and they're really pretty."

From then on, we were practically inseparable. We weren't seen without each other, and despite bullies picking on us, we didn't let their words bother us. Even as we got older, nothing changed, and in spite of living in an expensive house with nearly triple the amount of space that my house was, Warren chose to stay at my place most nights. His parents didn't care about what he did, and my parents were more than happy to have him over.

When we reached high school, our friendship turned into an actual relationship between two lovebirds (no pun intended). Now we really were inseparable.

However, this changed one night when he went out to grab something from the store. I was sick, and needed medicine; so, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, he decided he would go out and get some. I guess we underestimated how much mutants were hated in the area as Warren never came back.

Now it's been three months since he disappeared.

Every night since, I went searching for him, only to return to some hotel or hostel without him. I don't know what came over me tonight though. For all my life, I've always been told to avoid putting myself in dangerous settings, and yet, all of those lessons were cast away as I heard people screaming and hollering down an empty and dark alleyway while in Munich. My searching had taken me far away from home, but I wasn't going to stop until I found Warren.

Following the sounds of excitement and fury, I found a hidden door that led to what seemed to be a fighting ring. People surround the caged area, but I push through them, ignoring their waving arms with money held high. I stop at the metal fence separating the people from the ring, only to gasp in horror as my eyes fall over the white, fluffy wings I've loved for many years.

"Warren..." I hear his name being whispered through my lips, tears forming in my eyes as I look at his hurt and pained figure. Fighting for his life against another mutant, he spits blood from his mouth as he wipes away the blood forming on the cut across his cheek. The tattered t-shirt he wears, the same thing he wore the night he disappeared, barely hangs onto his shoulders by a few strips of fabric, the band emblem on the front no longer being recognizable. His arms have fresh bruises forming all along the skin while fading bruises covers the visible parts of torso. How the hell did he get here?

Too shocked to move, I watch as Warren throws a punch at the other mutant, only to hit the fence in front of him, the silver eliciting sparks as soon as Warren touches it. "Shit!" He yells while the blue mutant seemingly teleports to different parts of the cage, only to receive the same treatment as Warren did. Hearing his voice after so long makes me nearly choke on the air in my throat, the tears now falling freely. Seeing Warren makes me want to rip through the fence and save him, but seeing that the metal fence is electric, I can't simply do that.

Blinking the oncoming tears away, I glance in every corner of the underground hideaway and try to find something that might resemble a control panel. It isn't until I see a switch box on what seems to be a surveying floor that I begin running to it, successfully climbing up the steps to the higher level and stopping in front of it. Gazing back to the fighting ring, I see Warren shouting at the dodging mutant while people standing around the cage yell out vile words of hate and absolute greed.

"Warren!" I shout his name as loud as I can, placing my hand on the handle to the electrical switch. Instantly, his head darts toward the voice calling his name, every inch of his being relaxing once he sees me. I smile at him before nodding, his eyes following my hand as it begins pushing the handle downward. Just before the electricity goes out, I see Warren's dirty wings perk up just as the entire underground arena goes pitch black.

In the darkness, the people's screams die down while the clinging sound of the fence being ripped apart follows it. Mere seconds pass before I familiar arms wrap around me and tug me close to their body, Warren's wings flapping rapidly as he lifts us into the air and to the hidden door I entered through. Once we're outside, we quickly run as far as we can before stopping in another alley, far away from the other one.

As soon as we stop, Warren wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to him, his lips immediately attaching to mine in a fervent and much-needed kiss. His hand on my waist never falters in its hold on me, and instead, it squeezes the flesh there as if he were testing if I was real or not.

"I'm here," I tell him, sliding my hands down his face as endless tears fall from his cheeks and onto my hands. Staring into his tear-filled eyes, I can't help but cry tears of happiness as well. "I'm right here."

Nodding, Warren folds his wings behind him, slightly wincing at the pain of them conforming against his back. "Fucking hell," He mutters, placing his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. A few seconds pass of him just holding me before he kisses me once more. "I've missed you so fucking much."

Our sweet reunion is cut short by a black vehicle slamming on their brakes at the end of the alleyway. "Warren," I say his name, concerned at the sight in front of us. Warren turns around, only for his wings to burst out again, shielding me from seeing anything. Peeking under one of the long feathers, I see two men leave the vehicle before one of them points at Warren.

"That's him!" The man yells, "Get him!"

In an instant, Warren swings around and wraps his arms and wings around me, protecting me from the flurry of oncoming bullets. What appears to be eight shots sounds throughout the alley before the same car speeds off again as Warren begins to topple over. Was he shot?

Trying to catch him before he falls on his face, I wrap my arms around Warren and hold him up for a few seconds, only for his size to take over mine and fall to the side. Landing on his back with me on top of him, Warren waves his hand at me while shaking his head, his eyes shut. "I'm fine," He mutters, his voice now suddenly tired and drained.

Eyes wide and concerned, I turn him onto his side and look over him to see blood pouring from his wings. Between the layers of feathers, I find what seems to be four bullet wounds, causing me to practically lose it as the crimson liquid touches my hands. "No, no, no, no, no," I mutter uncontrollably as I place him onto his back. "Warren, Warren," I repeat his name, running my hand against the side of his face, his own blood smearing across his flawless cheek. "Warren, don't go to sleep!"

At my heartbroken plea, Warren opens his eyes, frowning at the sight of tears pouring from my eyes. "Don't cry, my love," He begs, his voice even weaker than before. He lifts a hand to my face, doing the same to me just as I had done to him. I quickly place my hand over his, holding it there as I feel the warmth in his skin begin slowly leaving it. "I... I love you..." He whispers, his eyes closing once again.

Just like a few seconds ago, I feel every ounce of sanity leave me as I watch the love of life wither away in front of me. "Warren, don't do this to me!" I shout, the tears now falling like a waterfall. I could barely manage not seeing him for the three hellish months when he was missing - I can't live the rest of my life without him.

"Warren!" I scream his name again, utter desperation being the only recognizable thing in my voice. Releasing a sob, I push my head against his chest and hear his still-beating heart. However, I know that if I don't get him to a hospital within the next few seconds, his heart won't continue beating like that. But what hospital will even help us?

"Ma'am?" I hear a woman's soft voice coming from the end of the alley, causing me to jerk my head up and see a blonde woman standing twenty feet away. Concerned, she walks closer to me before kneeling beside Warren and me, the knees of her pants becoming stained with his spilled blood on the alley ground. His wings are the first things that catch her focus, making me want to hold him closer.

"Please, don't hurt him," I beg her, my hand holding his hand a bit tighter. "He-he's a-" The woman cuts me off.

"He's a mutant," She points out, looking over at me. Still crying, I nod once, watching as a small smile appears on her face. Within a short second, the fair skin she once had transforms into blue flesh with darker blue scales, her eyes turning yellow and green while her hair changes into a much brighter orange/red.

"It's okay," She assures me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I am too, and I can help."

Her words, not to mention her sudden change of looks, shock me, but I nod at her, ready to do anything this woman says if it means saving Warren.

"Where's his family?" She asks me, her hand remaining on my shoulder as she kneels on the ground beside me.

"Me," I quickly answer her, tears still falling from my eyes. "I am his family."

"You're not a mutant," She points out, shaking her head with squinted eyes as she looks at me a bit confused. "And you care for him?"

"He's my best friend, the love of my life..." I answer her, my heart clenching as the words leave my lips. "Please, you have to help us!"

The woman nods, giving me a small, encouraging smile. "Kurt!" She abruptly yells, a teenage boy with blue skin and carvings appearing behind her with a blue puff of smoke following. I instantly recognize him as the other mutant in the pin with Warren earlier, and in spite of this, he doesn't try to get back at Warren while he's down.

Pulling his hand to get closer, she makes him get on our level before wrapping his arm around her and me. The stranger, Kurt, then wraps his other arm around Warren's almost lifeless body and tugs him a bit closer as well. "Get us all to the mansion nurse's ward - now!"

With the woman's last words, Kurt somehow does so, causing us to suddenly be in a nurse's station only a second later. This all confuses the living hell out of me, but with Kurt having a tail and red eyes, and not to mention blue skin like the lady, I don't know if I should be questioning the normalcy of anything at the moment.

Immediately, three scrubbed nurses rush up to where we are and pick Warren up from the ground. "He was shot, multiple times," The blue woman quickly explains, standing up from the ground. "He'll need blood, and you need to act quick."

Listening to her, the three nurses nod before taking an unconscious Warren back to what I could guess is surgery. Numb, I sit on the cold tile floor as I reach my blood-covered hands up to cross my arms and hold myself, my eyes stuck on the swinging doors that Warren was just carried through. Beside me is Kurt as he places a consoling hand on my shoulder, giving me a small smile.

"He vill be alright," Kurt assures me, his words helping me out a little. Giving him a small nod of my head, I take his held-out hand and stand up with him. "That is Raven, by the way," He adds as the woman from before moves to stand in front of me, taking my hand in hers despite it stained crimson.

"This is the Xavier mansion," She explains to me, "You're safe; we won't hurt you."

At her words, I nod. "I know," I tell her, giving her a small smile. "I trust you."

Smiling back at me, Mystique's eyes flicker behind me before her mouth slightly parts, her hand holding mine slightly faltering. "Who is this, Raven?" I hear a soft British voice speak up, causing me to slowly turn around and see a man in a wheelchair now in front of me. His eyes quickly catch my blood-covered hands and arms, shock taking over him. "Dear heavens, what happened to you, dear?"

I go to answer him, but my voice defeats me in doing so. Instead, Mystique speaks for me. "Charles, her and a fellow mutant were shot at in an alleyway when Kurt and I were passing by. He has wings, that's where most of the bullets hit him," She explains to him, "She has no ill will toward any of us - she just wants her boyfriend to survive."

A few seconds pass before the man, Charles, nods, staring at me with a frown. "I'm sorry to hear that, love," He tells me, giving me a single nod. "Raven, help her get cleaned up and fetch some fresh clothes for her as well," With that, Charles wheels himself out of the room and into the hallway where he enters the room at the end.

In a puff of blue smoke, Kurt leaves Mystique and me, letting us head to what I presume is her room where she wets a washcloth and begins rubbing the drying blood from my arms. "He will be alright," She tells me, saying Kurt's exact words from moments ago. "Trust me."

I nod at her words, but I can't believe them myself. What if Warren isn't okay? What if one of the bullets when through his spine and he's now paralyzed? I couldn't see all of his wounds so I don't know where they all hit him, minus the few I could see in his wings. What if the nurses and doctors can't do anything and he dies on the table? I can't bear to lose him - not again.

With my arms their original (s/c) color, I change into a pair of pajama pants and matching top with a school emblem given to me by Raven before walking with her to Charles' office. Stopping in front of his desk, Mystique and I watch as the man from earlier sits at his desk with his attention stuck on the novel stuck in his hands. However, it doesn't take long for him to notice our presence and put the book down with his glasses following.

"(Y/n), is it?" Charles asks me, turning his attention up to me. Surprised, I hesitantly nod as he speaks up once more. "No need to worry, dear," He assures me with a smile despite my caution. "I'm able to read minds and communicate through them as well," Charles further explains. "Raven and I were talking while she helped you with your arms and hands,"

"I understand you've been through a lot in the past hour, so I won't force you to talk about it," Charles tells me, making me let out a small sigh of relief. "But I am a bit concerned over the fact that you were in such a predicament that your partner was shot," Holding his hand out, Charles waits for me to place my hand in his. "I won't scour through your brain and look at everything you've ever seen or done - I just want to see what all transpired tonight."

Hesitating, I bite my lip in thought before shakily putting my hand in Charles, his touch being warm and welcoming. I feel as Charles does what he told me he would do, the images of the past month flashing before my eyes. Warren's disappearance, me finding him, and helping him get out are all shown before me like a home movie shot from my perspective. Because of this, I gasp a little, shocked at Charles' ability to do such a thing.

Slowly slipping his hand from mine, Charles' eyebrows furrow in thought before flashing his eyes up to mine, confusion written all over them. "You're a human with no powers or anything," He points out, slightly pausing in his words. "And yet, you've always loved a mutant?"

His words come out as a question, but to me, they're a true statement. I love Warren - I always have - and nothing about him will ever change that. "He's human just as I am," I tell Charles, giving him a small smile. "but, with wings," I further add, my smile growing sad as I lightly shrug. "How could I not love my angel?"

My words washing over him, Charles smiles back. "I like you," He tells me, Raven putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Your friend, I think he'll pull through. After all, he has a great incentive."

Because of Charles' words, I smile and give him a nod of thanks just as a question rises to my mind. "What... what is this place?" I ask, gesturing to the overall building. I know it has to be an establishment of some sort going by the built-in medical wing and wide hallways.

"This," Charles states, pointing his finger to the ceiling while his eyes remain on mine. "Is Xavier's a school for gifted youngsters," He informs me before nodding his head once. "This is a school specialized for children with mutations such as Warren, or Kurt, whom you met earlier."

Furrowing my eyebrows together, another question comes to mind. "Why have I never heard of this place before?" I ask, receiving a small smile.

"We're a relatively small school," Charles simply explains, "Ultimately, if your boyfriend would want to join, he could - now, you're not a mutant, but the unique and understanding attitude you give off, I'm sure we could work something out for you too."

His words make my cheeks turn pink in response to the compliment as I thank him, turning my eyes toward the ground as I try to fight the ever-growing smile on my lips. Just as I do this, I see Charles put a hand to his forehead as his eyebrows furrow before looking over at Mystique with a smile. "Raven, take her back to the medical ward," he tells the fiery-haired woman. "It seems that her friend was easily operable and now they're just waiting for him to wake up."

Almost immediately, I turn and follow Mystique out of the room with my pace just a little faster than hers. Soon enough, we walk through the doors and directly to the beds where only one of them is occupied, and the sleeping body in it is Warren's. The window behind him shines down on him with the bright and early morning sun highlighting his now washed and pure white wings that lie behind him. The sight is a complete contrast to what I saw only an hour ago with the almost black sky darkening everything around us and only emphasizing the dirt and grime that covered Warren's perfect wings.

"We told you he'd be okay," I hear Mystique's gentle voice beside me say, causing me to nod with an onrush of tears rising in my eyes. They were right, and my Warren is okay.

Moving closer to him, I sit beside Warren on the bed and take his hand in mine, his unconscious body unresponsive toward my touch and his perfect face never changing. "I'll let you two be alone," Mystique speaks up before doing as she says and walking back toward the door. Once I hear the swinging door shut, the tears residing in my eyes quickly fall over the barrier and down my face as I try to hold in my sobs.

When you love someone, you never want to see them in pain or hurting, and when they're laid up in a hospital bed with consciousness being a waiting game, it hurts you. It physically hurts you to the point where your chest feels heavy with dread, and your stomach feels sick with worry. It's terrible, and I wish there was something I could've done to protect Warren from getting shot.

"I'm so sorry," I sob, turning my eyes away from him and toward the floor. Raising my free hand to cover my mouth as the sobs tumble out, I don't notice Warren's hand gently squeezing mine until I feel the bed beneath me slightly moves.

Immediately looking back over to him, I see his eyes flutter open and quickly dart to me, confusion taking over his tired face as soon as he sees my crying form. "Why..." Warren slowly starts speaking, his voice raspy and scratchy with sleep. "Why are you crying, love?" He finishes his question, now trying to sit up.

"No, no, baby," I usher him to continue lying flat, moving to stand on my knee on the side of his bed before pushing his shoulders back down onto the mattress. Despite this, he still doesn't listen and moves to wrap his arms around me before pulling me fully onto the bed and holding me to his chest. Finally, Warren does lie back down, but in a matter of seconds, his wings are fluttering around me like any other time I'd be on top of him. My eyes quickly catch sight of the now bandaged wounds, and now that I get a better look, I see that there was one more bullet-wound than I initially thought. "Warren, your stitches!"

"It's okay, love," He sleepily responds, leaning his head back to look up at me with a happy face. "I'm so damn happy to see you," Warren confesses, his eyes gazing over me as if I were a precious gem.

If it weren't for the nurses cleaning the dirt from his face and body, I wouldn't have been able to assess the full damage the fighting ring did to him. Above his left eye is a healing bruise that covers a majority of the side of his forehead, and his bottom lip is split, making it swollen. On top of all of that, his green eyes are sunken in and practically taken over by dark circles.

Still, he continues staring at me, acting as if nothing is bothering him until a look of confusion fall over his face. "Now, are you going to tell me why you were crying?" Warren repeats his question from earlier, making me shake my head as more tears rise to my eyes.

"You almost died, Warren," I inform him, his face still unchanging. "I've been without you for three damn months, and the night I get you back, I almost lost you again - for good!" I add on, raising a hand to wipe away my fast-falling tears.

However, Warren beats me to it and places his hands against my cheeks where he gently holds me, his face now soft. I guess he hasn't assessed the severity of the situation. That, or he hasn't taken the time to fully realize that he has stitched-up bullet wounds adorning his wings.

"I'm sorry," Warren apologizes after a few seconds of silence. Despite expecting those two words, it still doesn't hit me any easier as I'm sobbing once again, this time, into Warren's chest.

Holding me close, Warren waits a few moments before moving his hands back to my face and turning me to look at him directly. As soon as he gets the chance, Warren places his rough lips on top of mine, the skin chapped from the harsh things he's been put through. Despite crying moments ago, my tears ultimately stop as I come to the realization of how much I've missed the feeling of Warren's lips on mine. Chapped or not, his lips are the pure definition of Heaven, and when they're on top of mine, it's like pure ecstasy.

Pulling away for air, I pant above Warren as he does the same, his hands now sliding down to grip my waist once again. "I love you," He tells me, "And I've missed you- God, how I've missed you," Warren adds, shaking his head as a small, almost unnoticeable tear falls down his cheek. "Each day was hell without you, and I can't be without you, not again."

Smiling at him, I lean down once more and peck his soft cheek before nuzzling my head next to his on the pillow, his hold on me never changing in the slightest. "You won't have to, Angel," I tell him, watching his lips quirk up in a smile at my nickname for him. Deciding on leaving the explanation of where we're at for later, I close my eyes alongside Warren and fall asleep, finally able to relax knowing he and I can be together with no one to stop or hurt us.

[cosmicatta]

An analysis of Portgas D. Ace through the light novels

Yes, I'm here again with my bullshit. After reading the Law novel, I was very excited to get my hands on the Ace ones too. And because I feel very intensely about him, I couldn't help turning my reading experience into a character analysis essay. Again.

So here we go!

Some notes before I start:

The edition I've read of this novel is the official Spanish translation by Planeta. When quoting and mentioning numbered pages, I'm referencing that edition.

I originally posted this on Twitter as a thread! If it sounds familiar, that might be why.

I've also posted an essay/thingie about Law's novel here!

These are just my personal impressions, I'm not trying to tell anyone how they should interpret the novel or Ace's character. I'm just doing this for fun!

Much like the Law novel, these are kind of a “prequel” to the source material. The story starts with Ace getting stuck in Sixis Island, where he meets Deuce, and follows their journey as Ace builds his own crew and later ends up joining Whitebeard.

The difference is that Ace’s novels, unlike Law’s, rely a lot more on canon events that we already know happened, because they’re mentioned or briefly shown in the manga (especially in the second volume). I’ll go a bit more into detail about this later, but either way, we can say that the novels are very canon-compliant at the very least.

Also, it’s important to point out that volumes 1 and 2 are written by different authors. I do think this has an impact in the way the narrative flows from one part to another, but it still reads like a cohesive story as a whole.

Overall, it offers a very different reading experience from Law’s novel. I guess the biggest contrast here is that we already know what’s going to be Ace’s tragic destiny, so the narration can’t really feel too hopeful.

Even if the story is lighthearted and adventurous most of the time, the tone that surrounds it all is bittersweet. And the core points of Ace’s journey are always marked by his fatal wounds: love, identity and the concept of deserving.

There is no real resolution for any of these themes throughout the novels; there can’t be, because we know Ace will only reach true understanding right before his death.

In this sense, I think the first volume does a better job at capturing that feeling of “tragic hero” that the story seems to go for, without necessarily getting too grim about it. And there’s a few things about it that get lost in the second part:

Volume 1 is written in first person, but it’s not Ace, the protagonist, who narrates the story. It’s Deuce. I think this is an interesting decision because it allows us to see Ace from the outside, through the eyes of someone who loves him.

And what we see from Deuce’s perspective contrasts with the image that we know Ace has of himself. This is especially interesting for 2 reasons:

He shows what Ace craved for all his life but didn’t know he already had until the end: love and respect.

He’s offering the readers a version of Ace’s identity crafted by an outside viewer, which is also what Ace keeps doing all the time: defining himself in relation to others.

These are going to be the main ideas that shape Ace’s journey from the start and what both novels try to explore.

Although Deuce and Ace’s relationship doesn’t start off in the best way, from the beginning Deuce sees a light in him that he has never known in anyone before. This even reflects in the way he describes Ace physically:

(Quotes roughly translated from Spanish):

P. 27: “He played with his radiant black hair.”

P. 129: “His pupils glowed with the colors of the sea floor.”

But what is most emphasized about Ace throughout the narration is his kindness and gentleness—he shares his fruit with Deuce while he’s starving too, he has a place for all kinds of rejected outlaws in his crew, he helps Isuka even though they’re supposed to be enemies, he gives the rice crackers he’d just bought to some children in Sabaody, etc.

Ace just goes around giving away his endless love without thinking too much about it. It’s in his nature. And people love him in return.

P. 66: “What does it mean to be a captain? To me, it means people love you. […] Ace was born to be a captain.”

There’s a small episode that I find very interesting in this sense—right before attacking him, a bounty hunter declares:

P. 67: “Ace! I love you!”

Ace assumes the guy only said that because his head would have granted him a ton of money. But it’s still a weird way to word it. It’s as if Ace was a shooting star that everyone couldn’t help but admire in awe, friends and enemies alike.

But, as I said before, Ace seems to be completely unaware of this, despite the very explicit ways in which people show him appreciation.

It’s at this point that we start to see the conflict between Ace’s “goals” that he set for himself and his true desires (though this will be explored in more detail in volume 2).

Although he keeps claiming to be in search of fame, he doesn’t really seem to be that interested in it. He only reacts to his own popularity when his loved ones do, because that is what he actually wants: acceptance, validation.  

P. 82: “Whenever the number increased [Ace’s bounty], we celebrated it. And him, in seeing us all so happy, celebrated too.”

What Ace is doing is just constantly looking for the answer to that dreadful question he asked Garp as a child: “Did I deserve to be born?” And he tries to find clues in his crewmates’ faces, in his enemies’ words, in the way the whole world around him reacts to his existence.

But what’s interesting is that he’s not just passively contemplating, he very actively tries to earn that right to live, in his own twisted way.

Yes, the world had already decided who Ace was even before he was born, but now it’s his turn. Now he can try and recreate his own image for them to see. And if he has to be a monster, it will be in his own terms.

It’s not about fame, it’s about identity. Because Ace’s identity has never been truly his own.

This is a very delicate subject for him, especially when he realizes that his bounty is growing at an abnormal speed, indicating that the government probably knows who he really is. And so, he is tormented by the idea that, despite all his efforts, he can’t escape the portrait that others have painted of him without permission.

Even those who don’t know the truth about his origins feel free to decide Ace’s worth as a human being. In this regard, his fight with Vice Admiral Draw is notable—he judges Ace not as Roger’s son, but as a regular pirate, and yet he still reaches the same conclusion and says the words that Ace fears so much:

P. 148: “You don’t deserve one more second in this world. It is because of you that so many people live in fear. […] If you didn’t exist, no one would be unhappy.”

Ace wins this fight, but he leaves with an open wound that never closes and only seems to get bigger with time.

And with this, the first volume closes in a very bittersweet tone:

P. 159: “Ace didn’t believe he deserved anyone’s love. […] But Isuka didn’t think the same, and she wasn’t the only one. The problem was that Ace wouldn’t realize. […] He was like the Sun. Everyone adored him, his enemies respected him. Ace was the center of everything. But, like the Sun, way too bright, he was always alone. […] Ace had created a home for us. But what about him? Could we find a home for him, where he’d be able to smile in peace from the bottom of his heart?”

The second volume starts where the first left it, with Ace and his crew entering the New World.

I have to say that I didn’t like this one as much as the first because, for a book that’s supposed to be about Ace’s relationship with others, it kind of falls flat at some points in that sense. Sometimes the novel seems more concerned with describing action scenes that aren’t really that interesting, or events that we already know from the manga without adding much to them.

Also, I feel like I have to mention that some scenes and description choices were a bit questionable (casual misogyny, etc.), but overall the book was still enjoyable to me.

The style and structure is a bit different from the first volume too—for starters, it’s written in third person, although the perspective is a bit all over the place sometimes. The POV keeps switching back and forth between different characters, which could a useful and interesting approach, but you need to know how to do it right, and I’d say it was a bit messy here.

But there is a good side to this, which is that we get a peek into Ace’s thoughts too sometimes.

And we see, as volume 1 already hinted, that his motivations are unclear even to himself. He insists that he wants to surpass his father’s fame, but he isn’t interested in titles or riches.

P. 61: “I don’t aspire to be the King of Pirates or anything of the sort.”

P. 74-75: [In response to “What brought you to the sea?”] “I guess I expected to find out at the sea… Though there’s something I do want to achieve. […] I’ll make sure everyone knows my name.”

Part of the reason why Ace despises the title of “Pirate King” is very obvious—it was his father’s title. But this disinterest also reveals the true reason why Ace thinks he wants the fame: it’s not ambition or vanity; it’s, again, his way of crafting his own identity.

In reality, although he directs his resentment towards his father, it’s not him he really hates, but the world that built a monstrous myth around his figure, a myth that Ace inherited.

P. 80: “This world killed Sabo. Unless you’re someone like Roger, whose execution brought a new era, it doesn’t matter if you live or die. […] Even if I can’t win their recognition, even if they hate me, I’ll become a pirate and take revenge on them all. […] One day, people won’t say ‘Ace, Roger’s son,’ but ‘Roger, Ace’s father.’”

Again, if he must be a monster, he’ll be one he’s created himself.

But it becomes clear in this volume that he has no idea how to do that. He wants to change the world, but has no plan to do so, and doesn’t even understand what that means exactly.

And here’s where Whitebeard is key, as we already know. He sees through Ace, and eventually makes him reevaluate his own ambitions, until he ends up admitting that he has no idea what he’s doing.

P. 159: [Thatch asks him] “You want your reputation to surpass that of the Pirate King, but you’re not interested in the One Piece. You don’t want to break the code either. What the hell does your flag even represent?” [And Ace answers] “I don’t know. Honestly, I thought I did, but not anymore.”

P. 224-225: “Whitebeard inviting him to be his son had seemed to him like another ‘father’ attempting to take control of his life. But […] now he understood the word ‘son’ a little differently.”

Though there’s no real resolution to Ace’s big questions in life, he slowly starts finding his own place and learning to accept the kindness he’s given, even if he doesn’t fully understand it yet.

P. 229: [Deuce asks him] “Do you think you’ll find what you’re looking for with Whitebeard?” [And Ace answers] “Yes. […] Because here I feel at peace.”

The book finishes with Ace offering his back to get Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger tattooed. With this, he’s constructing his image around the figure of a different father, one that he’s proud of. He still builds himself in relation to others, but is now more benevolent in doing so.

This is the first step of a healing project that we know will never be fully complete. And because of this, despite the ending having a hopeful and gentle tone, it’s still a bit heartbreaking. Like the first act of a tragedy.

There's a lot more interesting stuff to talk about in the novels, like the way Ace talks about Luffy and Sabo, and how it becomes clear that they are what really made him want to live and keep fighting. But this is already way longer than I originally intended, so I'll leave it here.

So, if you read this far, thank you! ♥ I hope you enjoyed it or at least found it somewhat interesting.

[multifandom-aroace]

Gwen's wardrobe in season five makes me sad. (I'm not the best at analysing but please bear with me)

Partly it is the fact that it just doesn't look like something she would wear. Like I get that she looks good. She doesn't look out of place in any way, but her clothes just don't suit her.

obviously she looks regal and beautifully. she looks like a queen, but she doesn't look like gwen.

I understand that what she wore before wasn't exactly what a queen should be wearing, but it feels like in costume design they went a bit too far in the opposite direction. all the colours are too dark, the details don't really fit with her personality. her costumes throughout the show are all relatively similar but once she becomes queen it feels like she changes completely. this probably reflects how her personality changes, which I also don't like. you would think that since she wasn't raised in nobility she would be fair and kind, not willing to kill a servant girl just because she overheard a conversation. it feels like they set it up from the beginning of the season for us to dislike her.

when I think of guinevere I think of costumes like these

these flower corsets are some of my favourite things she wears, and she could have worn something similar when she was queen.

I started thinking, in terms of the show, about why she might have changed her costume design so much and then I thought it might have something to do with respect. swen was a servant turned queen, and probably a lot of the people of camelot wouldn't have liked this much. you know, tradition and shit. so she probably drew inspiration from the other nobility she knew and decided to dress like that. for example, a lot of what she wears is similar to what Morgana wore.

like, obviously thay aren't exactly the same but it feels like there is definitely inspiration here.

this is probably because Morgana was respected (obviously before she because evil).

a lot of the female nobility/royalty clothing we see from camelot and the other kingdoms is Morgana, although we also see this from other visiting people, such as vivian, mithian and elena.

(best picture I could find of her full dress)

obviously elena is wearing a wedding dress here but she is literally marrying Arthur (who gwen married which is why she started wearing these clothes in the first place), and we can see that this colour and style is available to her class.

mithian and vivian are both wearing lighter, more delicate styles, and I get that these aren't anything I could see gwen wearing either but it's definitely closer than what she's actually wears. need I remind you that mithian was supposed to marry Arthur as well?

one thing I could find that is similar is literally gwen's coronation dress. while not exactly the same, it does seem very similar to somathing Morgana wore when she became queen

I feel like the purple and the gold colour scheme seem quite similar, as well as the sleeves and the general embroidered decorations.

I do also feel like this might be the most similar to gwen's original style that she goes in terms of her costumes as queen. it's a lighter colour and the gold decorations feels less heavy than when it is mixed with a darker fabric. this dress is more silky and delicate, rather than one of the first things she wears in season 5

the gold appears to be maybe a darker shade of gold especially when mixed with the maroon colour of the dress. this dress is clearly perfect for a queen, but it just doesn't feel like gwen. (not necessarily connected to Morgana jsut another point)

i guess what she was trying to do was remind the people of camelot that she was to be respected, and she knew how much people had loved Morgana. vivian and elena, on the other hand, were not. they were only in camelot for a short time but in that time they didn't really get people to like them. vivian was rude and elena was a bit 'weird' to them (not sure how else to describe their reactions to her). gwen didn't even meet mithian because she was in exile (another reason she needed people to respect her), so Morgana was the best person to take inspiration from.

the connection to morgana's outfits could also represent the connection between them later in the season and when gwen is under her control

overall, I think they did gwen dirty in the final season and she definitely deserved better.

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 5

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

Reading your own Wikipedia page is quite a strange experience. Paragraph after paragraph of your life written on the internet for everybody to see, from the day you were born all the way to this very moment. 

You do not know if the fact that none of it is true is for better or worse. 

Some parts are accurate, information about your hometown, date of birth, relatives' names and... that’s about it really. According to this biography, not only have you been the runner-up for a Formula 3 championship, but you are also a Formula 2 champion, which is good you guess, for someone that did not even know those kinds of competitions existed. As of two hours ago, Formula One was the only championship with those kinds of cars you had ever heard about, but there are so many. Too many actually. In a section of your page named ‘junior racing career’ —which is in itself a crazy sentence to read—, it even says something about karting’s championships and an academy thing, concepts you are not sure if you want to understand. 

Oh, and the most important part, you are a Formula 1 driver, a statement endlessly repeated throughout the text. They even claim this to be your second year on the motorsport, ‘not a rookie anymore’ they say, as if yesterday’s race was not the first one you have ever watched from start to finish. 

Still, if being pushed into a Formula One car and a whole Wikipedia page was not enough of a confirmation, you can find a million articles online that certify your participation in the sport. Webs filled with photos of you with the cars, dressed in full gear and with that stupid blue helmet, the situation getting worse and worse with every tap of your finger. 

How is any of this possible? 

The rabbit hole that seems to be your ‘life’ keeps you awake night after night, new information slapping you in the face every two minutes while you try to navigate what appears to be a Formula One driver’s normal schedule. Nick makes sure of that last part at least. 

The first step on that agenda had been to fly out of Austria, a place you cannot comprehend how you had arrived to when you were in Spain just yesterday. It is not like you were having the best time of your life there, finishing the third month of your external internship in a city you thought was already too far away from home, but this change looks a bit excessive. The possibility of being in a completely different country had seemed so absurd at first, when a list called Austrian GP came up as one of the top results in your research, and yet with a simple look to the navigation app, your worst nightmare had been confirmed. From your trip to the airport, to the arrival to another country, France, and to a new hotel, Nick walking you through every step of the process and only leaving you alone once you are back in the hotel room. 

The next few days follow a similar dynamic, mornings spent trailing behind Nick without a clue of what happens around you and long nights glued to the phone, the date for the next GP —or whatever they call it— getting closer and closer.  

You are not ready to repeat last Sunday’s events, an engine failure had saved you from the inevitable end, but you might not be so lucky next time. There is no way you are stepping into that car again, that is for sure, and even less so when you have not figured out what brought you here in the first place.  

Although you had drowned yourself in information about your supposed life the first nights in France, the need to discover what was happening to you had quickly managed to overpower that curiosity. From the moment Nick knocks on your door early on the morning to the hours you lay awake on bed looking for anything that could explain this madness, you spend every second of the day looking for an explanation.  

A kidnapping had been the most credible theory from day one, the way you had woken up to all those screams and the men surrounding you, how Nick had come into your hotel room that morning and pushed you to drive with no regard for your safety. It made sense. However, the articles posted all over the internet told a very different story. There is too much information about you, some posts even dating back to when you were a child, photos and videos that cannot be simply edited and uploaded to make you believe you have gone crazy. You have driven a Formula One car on an official race, for crying out loud, that is not something anybody can orchestrate. 

To be honest, the whole Formula One thing had knocked down quite a few of your guesses. What could someone gain from making you, a nobody, believe they are a motorsport driver?   

In fact, the only theory that could easily explain everything that had happened to you in the past few days is that: none of this is real. A dream. You can vividly remember dozing off on your bed, that sensation of falling down and then suddenly waking up in that unfamiliar place. It could be the reason why you had blacked out when the car exited the garage, why everyone knew you, and could also explain the existence of all those false stories on the internet.  

You had made all of this up. 

That had indeed been one of your first assumptions, or at least had been an easy way for your mind to let go of all the worries in such an unnerving situation. If this was not real, there was nothing to stress about, no danger in sight. Your alarm will go off any moment now and you will be one day closer to ending this internship and going back home. Tomorrow will be a new day. 

Despite this, as time goes by, it becomes harder and harder to hold onto this happy thought. 

Stepping foot into the new track is a breaking point. It is Friday, five days have gone by and nothing has changed, the countdown to the next race weighting down on your mind as you walk through what Nick had called the paddock. It is that strange street again, the one lined by those colorful buildings but in a completely different country —another clue that this was indeed not real, you were clearly lacking imagination to be recycling sceneries like this. 

They had brough you here yesterday as well, for a tour around the track that had set your nerves alight. Thankfully, you had done nothing but wander around the circuit for a while, be surrounded by a couple cameras, have a meeting with the engineers and go back to the hotel for another sleepless night.  

Maybe you should sleep more —which sounds quite contradictory when you are supposedly already dreaming— because, when the events of last Sunday start repeating themselves, you do not even have the strength to push back. Nick manages once again to lure you into the white building and prepare you for what he calls practice, but the reality is that just the sight of that Formula One car on the garage makes you heart drop to the pit of your stomach. 

“Don’t worry about times,” a man who has been following you all day says “Let’s see if everything feels good first and we’ll talk things over for FP2”.  

A lot of changes had been made to the car since Austria, that is what all the meetings had been about. You had silently sat down through all of them, nodding along to the engineers’ words as if you understood any of it. 

Now that you are seated in the car, blue helmet and jumpsuit on, you can only wish that whatever broke the car in Austria has not been fixed. That the engine won’t even start, and you will have to retire again. It is hard enough to listen to the rest of the cars exiting their own garages, their engines revving like they might explode.  

How they have managed to put you on the spot yet again, that you do not understand. And it is not only a one-time thing, but they easily make you jump in the car later the day for a second practice. 

When you are finally helped out of the car the second time, body uncontrollably trembling and a static sound filling your ears, you feel an unusual sense of calmness. The whole ride had felt like such a clear sign that none of this is real, it can’t be. Both practices had gone by in the blink of an eye, just like it had happened in Austria, a fade to black and you are back where you started. You do not even remember seeing other cars on the road or how you got back to the garage. Nothing. The only proof that you had driven around for hours being the fatigue consuming your body, something that backs the dreaming theory up so perfectly. 

They say you have done great though, so that is something.  

Nevertheless, it feels nice to be back on normal clothes, like there is less of a target on your back for the cameras and other strangers, but it is still difficult to keep a low profile when you are walking through the paddock with the team’s merchandising. Nick is guiding you out to the last meeting of the day, after you have fulfilled all the media duties and team reunions that have kept you on the track since your arrival this morning. He says this driver’s briefing thing should not last long, that it is quite late already, and they are probably thinking more about going back home than anything.  

The meeting is on another building, one you had not even noticed in your two days here, Nick leading you inside and up some stairs until you find the meeting room. When he opens the door, you realize there is already people seated inside, the sound of their mixed talks now filling the long corridor. You recognize some of them, not from the team meetings but from Austria, other drivers.  

The room is furnished as a classroom, a projector on the right wall and the rest of the space filled with rows of chairs. There are not many people in it yet, Nick had said it would be better to get there early before people start crowding the entrance and now you understood why. Your gaze instantly zeroes in on Lewis, a tiny smile pulling at your lips while Nick guides you to some seats, deciding to leave your things with him and go say hello. You have not seen him since Austria, after you had spent the entire pre-race ceremony talking to him, and now that you have kind of ruled out the possibility that he is a kidnapper, you have realized that maybe he was just being nice. 

Yet, before you can take more than two steps away from Nick, you feel someone pulling at your hand. You come to a sudden stop, looking back to see a man seated in the row in front of you and Nick’s seat regarding you with a huge grin on his lips. He has dark hair and big brown eyes that seem to be staring into your soul. 

“Oh c’mon, you’re not even going to say hello because I didn’t get you cookies last week?” the man chuckles, tilting his head as he looks up at you like he cannot believe what you were about to do “Isn’t that too much?” 

Even though his tone is light and jokey, you cannot help but frown at him. Why would you greet him when you don’t know him in the first place? And why is he holding your hand? 

Instead of letting go when you stand there in silence, too stunned to react to his words, he decides to pull you down into the seat next to his “Didn’t Charles get you some? You are being greedy at this point” he jokes once you are seated, not a word leaving your lips. 

Oh, Charles, you remember him from Austria as well. Actually, he was wearing the same exact red shirt as this man, a detail that the abrupt start of the conversation had left you blind to. The Ferrari logo in both his chest and cap are even more of a telltale of who he must be. Charles’ teammate. 

“They were nice...” you respond, crossing your legs and relaxing back on the chair now that you have gathered your bearings. It is true, you had been munching on those cookies throughout the race after your disqualification, Nick bringing them over to you as a treat to distract you. 

The man shakes his head in disbelief, smile widening as he assures you “I'll get you a full basket next time, don’t worry” 

The promise genuinely makes you smile, he seems nice. 

“How’s the car doing?” the man queries, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around 

You can almost feel the media training kicking in, pre-made phrases hanging off the tip of your tongue, they have been putting a microphone in your face and asking you about it all morning. Nonetheless, you manage to push it all down, it finally feels like you are having a normal conversation after this stressful week, you are not about to parrot the engineers' words for the millionth time “Well, it hasn’t caught fire yet...”  

The man seems to like that answer, letting out a giggle and a “That’s an improvement” while he nods in understanding. There is a moment of silence that follows, his eyes set on your face as if he was waiting for something that does not come. Is he expecting a more in-depth response or something? Yet, before you can decide on what to do, he finally wills himself to say what he has been thinking ever since you entered the room “So... are you feeling better?”  

The question catches you off guard at first, the conversation taking a more serious turn than you had expected —or wanted. Should you say you are great, just to shut down the topic entirely? The room is filling up with people by the second and it is not like you are about to open your heart to a total stranger. Or are you supposed to give the same response Nick had made you repeat over and over again in front of the journalists? ‘I’m perfectly fine now, it was pure exhaustion’. 

“I’m-” you start saying, mind not really having decided on what lie to tell, when someone pats your head. 

You rise your head to look behind you, both to see who it is and to get away from their touch —what is with this people taking such liberties?—, the man by your side doing the same. Standing tall behind your row of chairs is none other than the man you have spent day and nights thinking about: Daniel. 

“Ready for the two hours briefing?” he sighs with a raised eyebrow, his hand traveling down to your shoulder when you turn your body around to talk to him. This is the first time you have seen the man out of that bright orange jumpsuit, now sporting a shirt of the same color instead, logos drawn all over it. He is still wearing that matching cap though. 

“So dramatic...” the man seated by your side snickers, the previous chat seemingly forgotten “We should do a twenty-four-hour briefing just for you” 

“Mate,” Daniel says with a half-smile, pointing at you with a tilt of his head “she wasn’t here last year” 

That must mean something you do not understand because it is all the man in red needs to groan out loud, his face falling in defeat at the prospect of having to sit through such a long meeting. On the other hand, you can only sit there with your eyebrows furrowed, Nick had assured you would be out of here in no time. And of course you were not here last year, or ever, you have not- but your inner monologue gets suddenly interrupted by the one phrase you have been telling yourself all day: none of this is real, you’re dreaming. 

“What? No, she was driving here last year” another voice joins the conversation, his statement sharp and direct. You lean your body forward to see who it is, he has taken a seat on the other side of the man in red and his body is blocking the stranger’s face, eyes widening when you recognize him. Charles. 

“It was still Mazepin in France, he almost crashed into Kimi remember?” Daniel corrects him with a side grin “She started after the break in... was it Silverstone?” 

Daniel looks at you for confirmation on this one, the other two men also lowering their gaze to yours, waiting. You are so overwhelmed though, it feels so strange, the fact that they are talking so categorically about things that have not ever happened. What is Mazepin? Kimi? And Silverstone? What break? The pressure of the situation getting to you in the worst possible moment. 

So you end up doing what you do best, nod along to whatever the other person says even though you do not understand anything. That is what you have done to the engineers, to the media, to Nick and now to these three men before the start of a briefing that you won’t understand a word of either.  

Afterall, none of this matter, this is only a dream, right? 

Next Chapter

___

Author's note: Thanks a lot for all the hearts, comments and everything! I'm so happy you're liking the fic

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin

[campbenji]

jwct s2 thoughts after first watch (spoilers under the cut!!!):

ok.... look, i'm just gonna say it: i put my expectations too high for this season and i ended up slightly disappointed. it's not a bad season or anything of the sort, but i guess i just didn't enjoy it as much as i did s1.

individual thoughts now, starting with the good:

-brooklynn. she's always been the camper i ignore most because i've never been able to connect with her but HOLY SHIT they really changed that this season. i desperately need to know what's going through her head, i'm so glad we got to see a good part of her pov from before and after the attack, and how she's adapting to losing her arm. i can't wait to see where she's going after that finale, the stakes went off the roof fr

-THE ANIMATION??? THE WET HAIR, THE RAIN, THE DINOSAURS LOOKED MAJESTIC, THE WAY YOU CAN ACTUALLY SEE THE CHARACTERS TREMBLING NOW IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL

-ben's arc. the amount of stress i felt for him he was going through it </3. the moment i realized he always wanted to tell them broke my heart, he knew it was a huge thing and tried to be careful with how he revealed it but never got the chance. i really wanted them to address other things about him but this will have to do

-episode 7 seems to be the best episode in every season now. yaz getting a solo adventure was something i didn't expect, and it was interesting to see how another one of their own going missing affected the group.

-kenji being reckless and putting himself in danger for other i dreamed and feared of times like these i shit you not. this was his entire arc in a jwcc s4 rewrite i made, i've been waiting for this for so long. it didn't go exactly like i wanted but i still found it interesting

-BEN AND KENJI SCENES BEN AND KENJI HEART TO HEART I'M QUITE LITERALLY SHAKING. that was the best part of the season actually (heavy /hj btw). them finally getting to open up to each other, the gyrosphere callback, them bickering around in the last few episodes, and the fight?? i really hope they're setting up a good continuation for that next season, i need more moments with them

-kenji taking care of speckles (bumpy's egg) so much throughout the season was lovely, he's such a proud father omg. the day that egg hatches is gonna be the happiest day of his life

-loved to see more of ronnie, it was kind of obvious that it was her who saved brooklynn and talked to her through dark jurassic but it was nice to have it confirmed

-it's still so weird to me to have a recurring cast who isn't just the villains, but i'm growing quite fond of them

-the blind baryonyx from episode 9 sent chills down my spine, my sister and i were fucking terrified. i would've loved to see more of it

-THAT FINALE HAS ME DEVASTATED. brooklynn giving them the egg, i hate that everyone was right about "i'm not the same brooklynn you knew", i have no idea if they're coming back from this one because what the fuck

now to the not so good stuff...

-darius felt, and oh my god i hate to say it, sidelined. again. so much of the season was centered around others that even crucial moments like him realizing brooklynn is alive were underwhelming. there was barely any followup to his issues from s1, it felt like he didn't even have an arc this season, he was just there.

-they dragged a lot of stuff in the middle of the season. i can't pinpoint it exactly but everything from the a plot in episodes 4 to 7 is a blur in my head.

-there was nothing about sammy either. it's still heavily implied that she's on bad terms with her family (her crying when aminata hugs her and her almost sibling-like bond with zayna), but she just doesn't get to talk?? about anything??? i'm so tired

-although i really liked her character, i feel like they could've done so much with zayna?? they had this girl joining them on the adventure who's around the same age as them when they got stranded, and did... nothing about it. sammy mentioned her age, but that was it. with how much they doubted her knowledge sometimes, it would've been interesting to see darius approaching her and making sure she's heard, with him being the youngest in jwcc and whatnot. the group making sure zayna didn't have as bad of an experience as they did could've been a great subplot.

-i DESPISED the dinostar flashback scene and everything they added to it. i needed to be convinced on dinostar, not completely drawn away from the ship! the implication that brooklynn was with darius ONE WEEK and darius was already head over heels when he wasn't before is insane; of course she wasn't ready for a relationship, SHE BROKE UP WITH KENJI LESS THAN A MONTH BEFORE WTF. anyways canon unrequited dinostar is out long live fanon qpr dinostar

-atp i hope they don't make dinostar canon or set brookenji back together, they should all be single for a while after everything that's gone down, although i can't help but be a little mad because then why make darius go through that, the grief was strong enough as purely platonic

-where was the handler. i'm not even obsessed with her and i missed her

-i think it was slightly obvious that soyona was going to be the broker so i'm a little confused as to why the promo made such a fuss about it, but anyway

-dr. sarr was wasted potential, those creations were insane and admitting to having fed the rest of the crew to the baryonyx felt straight out of a horror novel. that was some good horror stuff and then it got all thrown away in one episode.

-something i noticed a lot is that, even if there were barely no clips, they still revealed a lot about the season from just the trailer. half the trailer came from the last three episodes and there was a lot of spotlight to things that in the end didn't amount much to the plot (*cough* the DLN *cough*). i feel like that may be one of the reasons i didn't enjoy this season as much

that's pretty much it, sorry for being a hater about it but I had a lot of mixed feelings that i needed to get out. it's still not the worst season ever, it would take something truly awful to defeat s4 in my heart, but it's definitely in the lower middle.

[eilishalways]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

caught your eye

summary: someone catches billie’s eye at the met gala, and things get a bit steamy.

warnings: kinda suggestive

a/n: first post!! hope you guys like it 💋

billie stepped out of the car, finneas by her side. “you ready?” he asked. billie responded “i’ve done this before. i’m fine.” “yeah,” finneas replied, “but only once. just checking in, that’s all.” “sorry- i guess i’m just kinda nervous.” billie apologised. they made their way to the start of the stairs with an eruption of screams and camera flashes. although this was only billie’s second met, she had done many red carpets before this, so she knew how to handle the bright cameras. she posed alone and alongside her brother before moving on to the next bit of the carpet to pose again. as she headed up the next few steps, she turned her head to where she had came in through, and stopped still for a moment.

in came what billie reckoned to be the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen - wearing a stunning dress and adorned in jewellery that complimented it perfectly. billie was starstruck. she kept staring until finneas tapped her on the shoulder “billie! what’s wrong?” he asked. billie was snapped out of her trance, telling her brother nothing was wrong & continuing on with him to the next part of the carpet.

it would be another half hour before billie made it to the top of the stairs and was greeted by anna wintour. she only talked to the stylish woman briefly, her head occupied by the gorgeous woman she had seen earlier. she went inside the event with her brother and started to look around the exhibition. she admired the different outfits half-heartedly, not able to stop thinking about the woman. until she caught a glimpse of a beautiful dress, and went round the corner to follow it, leaving her brother behind.

billie stopped still when the woman turned to face her. “oh- hi. billie, isn’t it?” she asked. billie stuttered “oh- uh- yeah…” “my names y/n.” you said. “that’s- that’s a gorgeous name.” billie replied. “thank you, billie. how are you?” you asked her. billie blushed, silently berating herself for getting flustered at such a simple question. “i’m good,” she said finally, “how are you?”

the two of you chatted for a while, until finneas went looking for billie and found her there, talking to you. by then it was time for the dinner, so billie introduced you to her brother while the three of you walked to the place you’d be having it. sadly you weren’t seated at the same table, so you had to separate. throughout the meal, billie kept thinking about you, so much so that she couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone at her table. towards the end of it though, she saw you leave your table to go to the bathroom, and she decided to follow. “sorry,” she said to the people she was barely talking to, “i’ll just be a minute.”

billie entered the bathroom just seconds after you did, and grabbed your arm. “hey,” she smiled, “how are you finding the dinner?” “honestly, i’m not a big fan - the whole fancy ‘barely anything there’ dish isn’t my thing.” you laughed. billie agreed with you, grinning. “i’ve been dying to talk to you this whole time.” you said. billie blushed “oh- really?” she asked. “mhm… you’re good company. the people at my table are so boring.” you complained. you continued to whine about the people you had to sit with, nit-picking their annoying personalities one by one. “yeah,” billie said, “i’m kinda the same. i can’t focus on a conversation with any of the people i’m sat with.” you laughed quietly, and asked why. billie suddenly got hesitant, but told you why. “well,” she started, and looked down, “i keep thinking about you.” she looked back up, expected to see your disgusted or annoyed face, but was instead met with a smile.

“oh really?” you grinned. billie blushed harder than before. “mhm.” she answered. there was a pause, then you put your hand on billie’s cheek and kissed her. she was startled for a second before kissing you back. it started off pretty innocent, but it quickly escalated until to two of you were messily making out. billie took a quick break to lock the door before she back to you, not wanting to stop at all as her heart rate increased. you pushed her up onto the counter beside the sink and continued to make out with her. seconds turned into minutes, and before you knew it, it had been half an hour.

billie didn’t wanna stop, but when she got a text from her brother asking her was she alright, she knew you two had to finish. she left the bathroom with her lips a little more swollen and her cheeks a little more red.

[queenshelby]

OSCAR SPECIAL (PART THREE OF FOUR)

Given Cillian’s recent success, I decided to jump ahead a little in my fics and give you a little Oscar Special. But don’t worry, I will cover off everything in between in due course and, for some fics, this Oscar part will hopefully get you guessing, while for others it will constitute a happy ending!

The Director (Oscar Special)

18 months later....Media Snippet -  E! News

"Cillian Murphy has just arrived at the red carpet, looking absolutely dazzling in a black suit and bowtie. Simple but exquisite nonetheless," one of the reporters said to another, a microphone hoisted between them.

The other beamed, while staring at the earpiece, where notes were fed to her. "And I can confirm that he arrived with Oppenheimer assistant director Y/N Y/LN as well as close friend Enda Walsh, both of whom he had worked with last year on his most recent movie called "Small Things Like These," she said, equally envious and enthusiastic as she watched the actor stroll down the red carpet.

"There is no sight of his wife Danielle Murphy which has sparked rumors afloat that they might be having marital troubles," her partner chimed in with, positioning a camera and focusing it commendably on Cillian without causing a scene.

"According to sources, it was rumored already last year that Danielle Murphy has moved out of their joint home shortly after filming of 'Small Things Like These' wrapped up, although no official statement has been released confirming it," she responded before the other reporter chimed in, announcing the arrival of yet another actor who was no other than your husband James McKibben. 

"There is James McKibben, dressed in a white tuxedo! He's looking utterly fabulous as well!" the other reporter said, noting James' presence on the red carpet. The camera flashed as he walked down the glossy red surface, charisma and self-confidence emanating from him with ease as security held him back from where you were standing with both, Cillian and Enda. 

"And here is a bit of trivia for you," the same reporter then announced quietly, pressing the microphone against her lips as if she was telling a secret. "Word has it that Murphy took out a restraining order against McKibbin following an incident at Universal in July last year," she paused for dramatic effect before going on. "It's not entirely clear what happened, but my guess is that involved Y/N Y/LN who, just earlier this year, filed for divorce from McKibbin," the reporter stated, feeling a little too much glee for having what seemed like an inside scoop before she went on to assess Cillian's chances of winning. 

"Well, let's just say that everyone in the industry is rooting for Cillian this year. He has been nominated for an Oscar for his portrayal of Robert Oppenheimer in the film "Oppenheimer", a true masterclass in acting," the other reporter gushed, addressing the first one.

"You've got it. All eyes are on him tonight and whatever the rumors floating around may be, none of them will matter once he holds this statue in his hands," his colleague responded, sounding equally enamored with Cillian's acting range and talent that could very well help him win. 

Hours later, he did, indeed, win the Oscar for Best Actor, and just like the reporter said, all eyes were on him as he accepted the award with grace and humility.

"Oh my god," he stammered almost nervously as he was handed his trophy. "Thank you so much for this great honor. Thank you Christopher Nolan and Emma Thomas for giving me the opportunity to play such a monumental role, one that I am still trying to process as the words come out of my mouth, and to all the cast and crew for their unwavering support throughout filming. I wouldn't be here without them," Cillian said with perhaps a slightly trembling voice.

It was not every day you get to be nominated for an Academy Award, let alone win one and, with that, his final thanks went to his adult children who believed in him along the way.

As expected though, Cillian did not mention his wife Danielle, whose absence after almost twelve years of marriage sparked rumors of ongoing troubles between them.

An usher arrived to signal him off the stage and waved to the audience before taking a seat again right next to you. 

"I am so proud of you," you whispered in Cillian's ear, your lips brushing against the delicate outer shell in a way no one noticed. 

"You know I couldn't have done it without you, right?" he then whispered back while, discreetly, taking your hand into his and giving it a firm squeeze, as if he needed you there just as much as you needed him.

The weight of the Oscar in his hand was surreal, the sheer scale of his victory even more so, but with you by his side, the feeling was no longer uncanny, but rather, comforting but what would come next, at the after party, was going to be an utter surprise for you both. 

Timeline Note for my fic:

Filming Oppenheimer - September/October 2022

Filming STLT - January/February 2023

Oppenheimer Release/Press Engagements - July 2023

Award Season 2024 - January/February/March 2024

To be continued...

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[thefrogdalorian]

You Are Eternal

✯ Read on AO3 ✯ Word Count: 1423 Rating: Teen Summary: When devastating news that High Magistrate Karga has become one with the Force reaches Din in his cabin on Nevarro, he reflects on the complicated nature of their relationship. Din pays his own tribute to the man who witnessed firsthand his shift from bounty hunter to father. Content Warnings: Major character death. Grief, mourning... I wrote this to try and cope a little with the awful news and it's just.... really sad. Author's Note: I just had to get this out of me tonight. It was my way of coping I guess. I hope Greef lives on somehow in the show, I really do. But I think he was Din's first real friend and their arcs are so similar, it's so sad to think he won't be there anymore. Thank you for reading. RIP Carl, Mando will never be the same without you 💔

Din Djarin was, unfortunately, all-too accustomed to loss. The feeling of grief was not alien to him. Ever since that terrible day on Aq Vetina, when he had lost everything and everyone that he had ever loved, the fear of losing others seemed to loom large over his life, a constant uneasiness that had long clouded his interactions with others. That was, until he had been sent to Arvala-7 and encountered The Child, who he would eventually adopt as his own. It was a chain of events that would not have been possible were it not for the very man whose loss had struck him harder than any blow he had sustained in the profession that had once united them.

Despite how many times Din had undergone the mourning process throughout his life, he found that the news of one of his oldest acquaintances’ passing had hit him particularly hard. The rapping at the door, well after the sun had set on another bright and sunny Nevarrian day, took Din by surprise. But nothing could have prepared him for the message that had promptly been relayed to him. News that had been delivered by a copper-plated droid, of all things. 

When he opened the door to his cabin on Nevaro, the last thing Din expected to hear was news that the High Magistrate had become one with the Force.

In those first few horrible moments after hearing such devastating news, Din found that the sensation resembled a punch to the area just underneath the shiny beskar plate that protected most of his chest and abdomen. Although Din was an extremely skilled fighter, he had occasionally been delivered such agonising blows in that incredibly vulnerable place. Now, Din was reminded of such agony as he processed the news.

Din’s relationship to Greef Karga had undoubtedly been complicated and at times, volatile. A former adversary, to an acquaintance, to possibly something even more… like a friend. Din Djarin did not typically have friends. But as he sat there in his cabin, processing the news after dismissing the droid and removing his helmet, he began to wonder whether, perhaps, he had had one… without even truly realising it.

A friend that had passed to the afterlife, before Din had the opportunity to comprehend how much Greef had truly meant to him.

Of course, there had been Paz. But Din was bound to Paz by Creed, as a fellow Mandalorian. There were no inherent bonds such as that with Greef. Instead, the former leader of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild on Nevarro had become increasingly close to Din. Greef had gradually become a trustworthy presence in an often cruel and treacherous galaxy.

Perhaps it was the shared trauma of the siege in the cantina, when Din and Greef had barely escaped with their lives, which had been the catalyst for their increasing closeness. Until then, Din had wondered whether he could fully trust the older man. After that, though, there was no doubt. Greef Karga was, at the very least, an ally.

All Din knew with any degree of certainty was that as soon as the Razor Crest needed repairs, when Din and Frog Lady had barely escaped with their lives on the frozen planet of Maldo Kreis, it was the coordinates for Nevarro that he had punched in. After being rendered an apostate for removing his helmet and violating the Creed, it was once again Nevarro that Din had journeyed to in order to secure a droid for his expedition to the Mines of Mandalore. On that very visit, when Grogu had been in danger thanks to the rogue IG unit, Din had not hesitated to thrust his son into the arms of Greef Karga, knowing that he would protect the little boy.

Back then, Din could never have foreseen himself settling on Nevarro. He had been so consumed with his quest for redemption that he had promptly rejected Greef’s offer for a tract of land by the lava flats. Yet after retaking Mandalore and adopting Grogu, the land had suddenly become an extremely attractive proposal. The little parcel of land had become the perfect place for Clan Mudhorn to rest between jobs for the New Republic. Din was eternally grateful for Greef’s offer. 

It was true that Greef had done much for Din during the time that they had known each other, but it was equally true that when Nevarro had been under threat from the pirates headed by Gorian Shard, Din had not hesitated to raise a band of Mandalorians to follow him. There were few people in the galaxy that Din would have gone to such lengths for, but Greef Karga was undoubtedly one of them. 

Not to mention the repurposed IG unit that Greef had given to Din, for Grogu to operate, despite Din's reservations. Although it had initially annoyed Din (and the stall holders of Nevarro) as it had given Grogu a way to verbalise his insolence and feed his insatiable appetite, it had been an invaluable aid during the retaking of Mandalore. An aid that would not have been there were it not for Greef. Both Din and Greef owed an enormous debt to each other.

The realisation of what a key figure Greef had been in Din Djarin’s recent history almost sent him tumbling to his knees. That Greef was the man who had perhaps witnessed more closely than any other the shift in Din from a lonely, selfish, bounty hunter with a strict adherence to the Creed, to a man who would do anything to ensure the safety of The Child, even if it meant violating the Way. That Greef was gone.

For a second, Din wanted to run from the cabin, screaming and sobbing, pleading that this could not possibly be true. That Greef would never realise how much he truly meant to Din. But he quickly came to his senses and soon sought solace elsewhere.

Din crept down the hall towards his son’s room, ensuring that in spite of his emotional state, he was as quiet as possible so Grogu was not awakened. He just wanted to be close to him, to feel his presence nearby, a comforting closeness to the special little boy who had changed everything for him. Din was relieved that Grogu was sleeping soundly, his shallow, even breaths continued even as his distraught father stood in the doorway. 

Din feared how much the news would devastate the little boy who was currently sleeping soundly in his crib. Despite how much Din ached to hold him close as comfort for himself, he didn’t have the heart to wake Grogu. Although Din supposed, given the way that Grogu seemed to understand the galaxy around him, that perhaps somehow his son had already sensed the enormous loss of such a monumental presence. A loss that would surely leave a void incapable of being filled in all of their lives. Every sunset on Nevarro, a sight that had once left Din awestruck with its beauty and the vibrance of its colours, would surely seem a little darker from now on.

Din turned his back and left Grogu's room then, fearing that if he stood there for much longer, the tears that had begun to silently creep down his cheeks would develop into a more audible indication of his grief that would wake Grogu. Plus, Din had remembered a certain cupboard in the kitchen, the contents of which would provide a fitting tribute to the High Magistrate.

He had hoped that one day, he might invite Greef to the cabin for the advised smaller gathering to share this luxurious libation with him. Perhaps even face-to-face, without his helmet, such was the increasing number of ways that Din had discovered there were to walk; ways to be Mandalorian.

That would never happen now, Din realised with a pang of sadness as he stepped out onto the porch and into the moonless Nevarrian night. He placed two glasses onto the table by the bench and slowly poured the amber liquid. 

Then Din sat back on the bench, and raised a glass of the Coruscant wine to the stars, in a toast to his old friend. He spoke the sacred words of the ancient language of their people, a daily remembrance that he would now carry out for the man who, despite everything, had become his friend.  

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Greef Karga.”

(I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.)

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Recently I've been going back and reading some of my old SGA fic (some of my best, most interesting writing is there, most of it deeply overlooked because it was about violence and grief, with tangential romantic content or none at all, and of course that's never really been Hot Ticket stuff in fandom; I get it), and after I ran out of that, I decided to reread Pretty Good Year.

And, you know, when you read something you've written years later, obviously there's always little stuff that bumps you – that seems overly repetitive or too wordy or whatever your personal sins are as a writer, and you wish you hadn't done this or done it that way or whatever. Mostly it really is just “whatever,” but there's one really spectacular fuck-up in that story that I knew was there, but it continues to bug me more and more over time. And it really is just an error, and not a sign of my growth or whatever, because I meant it to be there and I just. Forgot. I was in a hurry trying to get it done and I forgot to put it in there, but there was supposed to be a line somewhere in the final chapter about the tight scheduling around their East Coast trip because of having to work around Eliot's rehearsal schedule, and I hate that I didn't work it in, because without it there's actually no resolution to his final conversation with Idri. You might guess that after considering it Eliot agreed to take the role, but nothing in the story ever tells you that.

And that honestly really bothers me, because it actually matters to the Themes and Motifs and shit of the story, which is a story that (sneakily) actually begins before chapter 1 – it begins in Los Angeles, even though you only get the Los Angeles story doled out in pieces throughout the text. It's important to the story that you know there was originally another version of Eliot, who is actually this universe's version of “Brakebills Eliot” – someone who was bolder and braver and more proactive, who struck out on his own at 18 to chase his dream and find his forever home and all that – Eliot the hustler, Eliot the actor, Eliot the Spectacular. And you learn, over the course of the fic, what happened to that Eliot: that he didn't have a Hollywood story, that his personal and professional lives in LA were both mostly too much effort for no real reward. That he burned out, and then he was betrayed, and that he never really recovered from that; on page 1 he's living this bleak, uninspiring life, paralyzed by ennui, with no idea where he's headed except to keep doing what he's doing forever. The version of Eliot that opens PGY is actually inspired specifically by the defeated, traumatized Eliot in the final few episodes of season 1 – the version that begins when he breaks down after killing Mike, and ends when Quentin crowns him High King. That's actually the whole story, right? It's a PTSD-ridden Eliot, afraid to get back out in the world, who's kind of plucked out of obscurity and chosen to be The One, and the story question is whether or not he can live up to this metaphorical coronation.

Fundamentally the answer is obviously that he can, because while it was impossible for him to get back on his feet after LA for his own sake, he's stronger when he does it all for this family who desperately needs him to be their linchpin if they're going to stay together. But I really didn't want the story to be entirely about the glories of Eliot discovering that he's an excellent tradwife – although it's not not about that, and he definitely is – because I don't honestly think Living For the Ones Who Need You is a great life plan, you know? I didn't want that to be the one and only key to Eliot's kingship/adulthood, so there was always this second story woven in about the other loss that Eliot suffered when Los Angeles collapsed in on him. The first real thing Quentin says to him, the thing that digs into Eliot enough to shift him from this sort of lazy, semi-interested seduction into genuine interest in Quentin, is that Quentin asks him what he does creatively. In whatever intuitive way, Quentin sees that Eliot is fundamentally A Creative, and connects to that and he values it, which starts to give Eliot permission to connect to it and value it again. These exchanges about Eliot the Artist are critical to the story all the way through: when he sings to Quentin, when Quentin gives him the piano and the theater tickets, when he gets the Wellspring job because of the costume he made, the gift of the sewing room, the conversation about The Greatest Showman. It's the B-story to the whole thing, that Eliot had written himself off as a failed actor, but is starting to wake up to the image of himself that he sees reflected back from Quentin, this talented, creative person who makes beautiful things and makes things beautiful. One of my favorite little punctuation marks in the story is when a drunk Quentin introduces Eliot to the wedding guests, and his go-to in vino veritas summary of who Eliot is is basically, “MY BOYFRIEND IS AN ARTIST.”

Chapter 13 is obviously the story's climax, and its job was to essentially Show Not Tell that Eliot has achieved the goals that I forced onto him, which had more or less four aspects: he had to be the one who saves Quentin from drowning, he had to be not just a generic Good Parent but a good father because of he himself authentically being one, he had to kind of put a final seal on the pact with Margo so that we know for sure his partnership with her is real and not going to be transcended or left behind so he can be Q's romantic hero, and he had to actually acknowledge that he is a Theater Kid forever, that he was wrong to leave behind a part of him that he loved and that sustained him internally just because it won't ever make him famous. I needed all those things to be in place for me to feel like Eliot was closing out the story successfully, and most of that happens in chapter 13: the Teddy story is punctuated in that conversation they have at the beginning of the chapter, the Quentin story is punctuated partially with the paired doctor and hospital trips, but emotionally I think is punctuated when they have the fight in between and Eliot manages to end with “I love you” anyway, the Margo story is punctuated by the intense privacy of their comfort sex and with Eliot being the one for the first time who holds the door open on them having kids – but that fourth storyline really doesn't come up in 13. It's punctuated by the conversation with Idri in chapter 12, when Idri sees right through Eliot's attempts to hide how exhausted he is by being so extensively, endlessly Needed, and says that when he was in the same position, he had theater as a lifeline. He pays it forward by passing that lifeline to Eliot, and even though I didn't think Eliot was ready in that exact moment to wrap his head around it, I always thought it was completely essential to the story for Eliot to say yes to that lifeline, just like he said yes to Ted and Quentin and Margo.

But he actually didn't say yes. And I meant to show that it had happened! I really, really intended to put something in chapter 14 that showed Eliot going back to acting in spite of the way it had let him down before, exactly in parallel to the way he went back to love and family in spite of the way he'd only ever been let down by those. It feels really essential that all those things end up closed up, rounded off, settled, and it drives me a little insane that one of them didn't. But now you know, I guess, that Eliot was in a community theater production of Fiddler on the Roof that summer, and also everyone thought he was terrific, and he loved every minute of it.

[yanderecrazysie]

Idealized Part 2 (Yandere Sugawara)

Requested on Quotev! The first part of this series was barely yandere, so I hope the second part’s better! 

Part 1: here

Part 3: here

Title: Idealized (Part 2)

Pairings: Sugawara Koushi x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: Sugawara Koushi seems to be completely perfect: good grades, talented athlete, responsible, and a total sweetheart. But, if he’s so perfect, why does your string of fate, that red string that warns you of the most dangerous person in your life, lead right to him?

AU Note: Some people have a “String of Fate” that, instead of symbolizing love like in soulmate AUs, leads straight to the most dangerous person in your life when you’re close enough to them. The string is invisible to everyone EXCEPT the person that would be in danger. Not everyone in the world has a string of fate but those that do have no idea in what way they will be in danger.

idealized

/adjective/

regarded or represented as perfect or better than in reality.

Sugawara scared you. Not just because of the red string of fate, but also because of how persistent he was in trying to gain your affection.

It had started out small- him trying to talk to you after classes, although you kept silent and hurried away, or him sending you smiles and waves that were never returned. This, at first, seemed only friendly, and not too ominous, had it not been for the red string, of course.

Then it had upgraded to phone calls. You had not, of course, ever given him your number, but still, he managed to get ahold of you somehow.

“Hey, (Y/n), this is Sugawara Koushi. I know you didn’t give me your number directly but-”

You’d hung up so quickly that your cell phone bounced out of your hands and hit the carpeted floor of your bedroom. You spent the rest of the night staring out your window and jumping at the movement of every little shadow, swearing that you could feel eyes on you.

Then came the love letters and gifts. Fluffy teddy bears of all colors and sizes, some holding hearts and some not, all mysteriously made their way into your locker. The letters weren’t as concerning, since someone could easily slip it through the slats near the top, but the teddy bears meant that your locker had been opened.

Around Valentine’s Day, he’d put a heart-shaped box of chocolates inside. This was the first thing from him that you actually considered keeping, but you remembered how gross some of those candies could be, and it was tossed into the school trash can like everything else that made its way into your locker.

The first flowers he’d laid on your desk were plain red roses. Beautiful, but overdone to the point of “nothing special”. When the next bouquet came to rest on the polished surface, you wished he’d stuck with roses.

After all, now you had to worry about how he’d managed to guess your favorite type of flower.

There was always a note attached to them and, though you’d resolved to throw them away without reading it, much like the letters, curiosity took hold of you only once.

“To my number one princess, may these flowers light up your day like you brighten up my life.”

You never read another note after that.

All throughout this time, Sugawara’s desperate attempts to speak to you continued. Unknown numbers continued to call you at all hours of the day and night, and you were sure that they were mostly from him. Avoiding him was proving difficult as well.

It didn’t take too long for the school to catch on that their precious role model had developed a crush. Girls “oohed” and “awwed” over the fact, finding it positively adorable that the gray-haired boy was head-over-heels for someone, even if it wasn’t them. His teammates always pushed him towards you, trying to help him “gain the courage” to talk to you.

If only they knew.

Cooing and encouraging turned to curt remarks and gossip whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “Who does that girl think she is, ignoring Sugawara like that?” “She’s so mean!” “Why won’t she even give him a chance? Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is?” 

Every day, you felt more and more like the outcast, to the point that you genuinely considered giving him a chance. But, as he approached you, that red string tied like a noose around your finger, and it had you skittering away from him.

Sometimes, he’d stare at you from across the cafeteria or school grounds with a thoughtful expression on his face. To you, it seemed like he was trying to figure out how to finally corner you somewhere.

You’d piqued his interest somehow and you hated it. Had you known how to stop him from becoming this way, you would have done it in a heartbeat. Should you have been calmer when you saw the string for the first time? Should you have been pleasant when he came to greet you at that table?

You couldn’t help your reactions- you were just a reactionary person. But perhaps that was the reason you were in trouble in the first place.

Another part of you, one you found much more soothing, reassured you that this was unavoidable, not your fault at all. If the string existed at all, then he’d eventually become a danger to you. Nothing you could do would stop him from becoming a monster, but at least you hadn’t caused it. 

Fate had.

You fiddled with your fingers, feeling very vulnerable home alone, wishing your mom would hurry up and get home from work already. Your skin crawled whenever you pictured a certain gray-haired male crawling through your window or knocking at your front door. He plagued your mind at night, especially, when you could no longer see anyone from the window.

You jumped when your phone rang, the contact “Mom” showing brightly across the screen. You took the call and cradled the phone close to your ear, smiling.

“Hello, princess,” an out-of-breath voice responded immediately.

Your heart froze. 

That wasn’t your mother, or even your father, on the other end of the phone.

It was Sugawara.

[starogeorgina]

All mine

Warnings: Swearing

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

1.02

You had expected Spencer to be in shock, stumble over his words, or be in denial when you told him you were expecting, but instead he focused on scribbling down a calendar on the back of a newspaper. Eventually, he looks up and asks, “Have you had a scan or blood work done yet?”

“Uh no, not yet.”

“Roughly how far along do you think you are? Sometimes the nurses and midwives calculate it from the date of conception or from your last period.”

You’re slightly taken aback by his question; you’d assumed Spencer would have worked it out in his head right away. You stare at him blankly while trying to figure out why he wasn’t freaking out.

“Spence,” he says, looking at you seemingly unaffected while awaiting your answer. It suddenly dawned on you that he might not have realized he’s the father. “This baby is yours.”

Spencer stares at you wide-eyed, in shock, before he finally snaps out of it and says, “Mine.” He freezes and sits with an unreadable expression on his face for a few moments until he’s able to talk again. “The baby is mine.”

You nod.

“We slept together nearly three months ago.”

“I know,” you say, feeling your hands begin to go calmly. He is watching you intensely, as if waiting for you to say something that will magically make the situation better. You feel the blood boil under your skin when you think about the unsub, who was unintentionally targeting the growling life inside you. In spite of the pregnancy being a total shock, you felt extremely protective already. Emotions start to swell inside you. “I’m scared,” you admit. “I’m scared of becoming a mother, of possibly losing a job I love, and of one of my closest friends, and I’m also terrified of what the unsub might do if they find out.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Derek knows. I don’t want to tell anyone else yet, not until I’ve had a scan and know everything is okay.”

“How many tests did you take?”

“Twelve.”

Spencer smiles at your comment, his hand finding yours. “Our situation isn’t ideal, but I promise to be there for you every step of the way, but you need to book in with your doctor first thing in the morning.”

“I will,” you nod in agreement. “Until then, we need to keep Morgan quiet and hide that anything is going on from anyone else at work.”

“That will be easy. Hotch, Emily, and Rossi aren’t the most observant people; I’m sure they won’t notice something’s up,” Spencer says, making you laugh.

Although you were terrified, having Spencer confirm he would stand by you made it a little less frightening.

—

You and Spencer both stare at the small screen with your mouths agape. The sonographer has just confirmed you are ten weeks pregnant with twins. Spencer had called someone who owed him a favor, and within the hour he had discharged himself from hospital care, and you were getting scanned. Throughout the scan, Spencer’s nerves showed as he listed off rare diseases that can be missed on the scan. He didn’t seem to settle until it was confirmed the babies were okay.

“Can we actually have another few copies of those?” Spencer asks.

The sonographer agrees, prints off a few more copies of your scan, and hands it to him. It felt surreal knowing you had two tiny humans growing inside; it also made you more determined to find the unsub soon as possible. You wipe the gel off your stomach and sit up while the sonographer leaves the room to fill in some paperwork, and notice the way Spencer is staring at the black and white picture in his hand.

You put your hand on his back, “hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “We need to tell Hotch, I know you didn’t want to but seeing this now makes it so real.”

“I know. So what’s our plan now?”

“Well since I convinced Morgan and Garcia to go home, I’m guessing one of the cops will give us a ride back to the safe house. We’ll need to swing by my place first though so I can get some clothes.”

“You’re staying with me?”

He places his hand on your stomach, “I’ve got three reasons to stay with you.”

—

You twist the ring on your middle finger while nervously standing in front of the rest of your team, trying to find the courage to tell them you’re pregnant. You run head-first into danger nearly every single day, but this was different. You had so much more to lose if the killer found you. That morning you told Hotch, who congratulated you, until you said who the father was, and then he thought it was some kind of trick until Spencer pulled his wallet out and revealed the baby scan picture. Hotch offered to cover for you if you didn’t want to tell anyone else, but given the circumstances and the fact you were only two weeks away from reaching the three-month mark, you decided to tell them.

You cleared your throat; it made you feel selfish for interrupting the investigation, especially when the unsub had already killed three women. You cleared your throat. “I have something to tell you all, so I’m going to just come right out and say it. I’m pregnant with twins.”

Emily is the first to congratulate you; she hugs you and says, “Quinn, I’m so happy for you. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

“Uhh,” you pull back from her. “I’m not exactly…”

She raises her brows but says nothing; her gaze moves from you to Spencer, who places his hand on your shoulder. He smiles awkwardly at her, causing her mouth to fall open. Nobody else seemed to have caught on, but you noticed how stressed out Hotch looked. This whole situation was going to cause him a massive headache.

“And I’m the father,” Spencer blurts out.

The room falls silent until Gracia smacks Derek on the chest. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Damn baby girl, you’ve got a mean hit, and I only found out last night. Although I didn’t know it was twins.” He shakes Spencer’s hand. “I’m made up for you, Reid.”

When everyone is finished awkwardly congratulating you and Spencer, Hotch explains how the team was to continue as normal while searching for the unsub; the only difference was that you weren’t to go out on the field. He heavily hinted at keeping what they just learned a secret because the moment Erin Strauss finds out, she’ll remove either you or Spencer, which he didn’t believe was in his team's best interest. At least not for now.

—

Hearing your cell phone ring, you pull it from your pocket and stare at it, confused, before muting the call.

“Do you need to get that?” Hotch asks before delivering the profile.

So far, the evidence has pointed in the direction of the unsub being a white male in his mid-thirties. He’s highly intelligent and possibly had a job within the FBI. He was fired either by his boss, who was female, or because of an incident involving a female colleague, which is why he was only targeting women.

“It’s just my landlord; I’ll call him back later.”

“It’s the fourth time he’s called,” Spencer says, “you should answer the next one.”

When it rings again Hotch nods for you to answer it. You excuse yourself from the room and listen to what your landlord has to say. Shit. It was nothing good.

You step back into the room and say, “I think the unsub broke into my home.”