#and even then i do try to avoid them if just because there are far funnier and more creative jokes i could make. but like.

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write a story with Franco Colapinto where maybe the reader is in a bit of a “toxic” relationship with an older boyfriend who takes advantage of her like he wants to control her and everything, and even wants to marry her—a bit of a strange situation. Franco helps her get out of it because he’s madly in love with her.

all mine always (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, break up, insecurity, fluff

Franco Colapinto had always been Y/N’s favorite person. From the moment their mothers introduced them as toddlers in their small Argentinian neighborhood, they’d been inseparable. Where Franco went, Y/N followed, and vice versa. He was her rock, her safe place, the one person she could count on for anything.

As Franco’s racing career took off, Y/N was his biggest cheerleader, whether screaming at the TV during live broadcasts or waiting for hours at the airport to welcome him home. And for Franco, no matter how loud the crowds were or how far he traveled, he always came back to Y/N. She grounded him, reminded him of who he was when the world made him doubt.

But lately, things had changed. Y/N wasn’t the bubbly, carefree girl he’d always known. Her laughter was more strained, her smiles less frequent. And Franco knew why.

It was because of him.

“You’re quieter than usual. What’s going on?” Franco asked, nudging Y/N’s shoulder as they sat on the hood of his car, overlooking their favorite cliffside view.

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what? Life? Me?” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

“Of course not you,” she mumbled, and he caught the slight tremor in her voice.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Franco’s voice softened, and he leaned closer. “It’s me, Y/N. I’ve seen you bawling over rom-coms, eating half a tub of ice cream in one sitting. There’s nothing you can say that’ll scare me off.”

She let out a weak laugh but didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“What is? Him?” The edge in Franco’s voice was unmistakable.

Y/N’s boyfriend, a man ten years her senior named Marcus, was everything Franco wasn’t. Wealthy, powerful, and utterly controlling. Marcus didn’t like Franco. He didn’t like how close they were, didn’t like how Y/N lit up when she talked about her best friend.

At first, Franco thought Marcus was just jealous. But the more he saw, the more he realized it was something darker. Marcus dictated what Y/N wore, where she went, who she spoke to. He even made her quit her part-time job, claiming he’d “take care of her.”

“Why do you stay with him, Y/N?” Franco finally asked, unable to hold back any longer.

Y/N’s face fell. “He loves me, Franco. He wants to marry me.”

“Marry you?” Franco’s voice rose, and Y/N flinched. “Y/N, he doesn’t love you. He wants to own you.”

“Don’t say that!” she snapped, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t understand, Franco. He’s been good to me.”

“Good to you?” Franco stood, pacing in frustration. “Y/N, when was the last time you smiled? When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?”

She was silent, and that silence broke his heart.

Later that night, Franco lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t get the image of Y/N’s tear-filled eyes out of his mind.

He couldn’t lose her to someone like Marcus.

He wouldn’t.

---

It started with the small things. Y/N had always been the loudest laugher in the room, her giggles contagious and uncontainable. But one evening, during a rare dinner at their favorite burger joint, Franco noticed her laughter was muted.

“Remember when you tried to convince me ketchup was a vegetable in second grade?” Franco joked, hoping to coax a smile.

Y/N chuckled lightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she glanced at her phone lying face down on the table, as though it held some unspoken threat.

“Y/N, you okay?” Franco pressed.

“Yeah, just… Marcus doesn’t really like when I eat stuff like this,” she murmured, picking at her fries.

Franco frowned. “It’s one burger, Y/N. You’re not signing a lifetime commitment to unhealthy eating.”

She smiled faintly but didn’t touch her food after that.

---

Y/N’s wardrobe had always been a mix of quirky prints, bold colors, and comfortable outfits. She loved experimenting with fashion, her style as vibrant as her personality.

But during one of Franco’s rare visits home, he noticed her wearing muted tones: a beige sweater, black trousers, and flat shoes that looked nothing like the chunky boots she adored.

“Wow, did someone steal all your colors?” Franco teased, eyeing her outfit.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater nervously. “Marcus says these look more… sophisticated. He says I should dress like the woman I’m becoming.”

Franco’s stomach churned. “Since when do you need his approval to dress the way you want?”

“It’s not like that,” she said quickly. “He just wants what’s best for me.”

But Franco couldn’t shake the way she avoided his gaze.

---

Y/N had always been the type to show up unannounced at Franco’s house, snacks in hand, ready to rant about anything and everything. But those visits became less frequent.

One evening, Franco called her after weeks of barely hearing from her.

“Hey, stranger! Do I need to make an appointment to see my best friend now?” he joked.

“Sorry, I’ve just been busy,” she said, her voice hesitant.

“Too busy for me? C’mon, Y/N, that’s not you. What’s really going on?”

“Marcus doesn’t like me hanging out too much. He says it’s distracting me from our future.”

“Our future?” Franco repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Y/N, he’s not your entire life.”

“He’s important to me, Franco,” she snapped, but her voice cracked at the end.

Franco sighed, the weight of her words sinking in.

---

Y/N had always been fiercely independent, never afraid to voice her opinions or stand her ground. But that spark seemed dimmed.

One day, Franco overheard her on a call with Marcus while she waited for him at the karting track.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be home soon, okay? Please don’t be mad.”

When she hung up, Franco approached her.

“Why were you apologizing?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just a small misunderstanding.”

“Y/N,” Franco said firmly, his tone demanding honesty. “When did you start apologizing for existing?”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, it looked like she might break down. But then she shook her head. “You don’t get it, Franco. Marcus just expects a lot from me. It’s not a bad thing.”

But Franco could see it—how she shrank in on herself, a shadow of the person she used to be.

---

The final straw came when Y/N showed up at Franco’s house one evening, tears streaking her face. She was holding a gift Marcus had given her—a diamond bracelet—though it felt more like a shackle to Franco.

“He said I’m too friendly with other people,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “He thinks I’m not committed enough to him.”

Franco’s jaw tightened. “So what? He bought you this to guilt you into proving it?”

She didn’t respond, just stared at the bracelet with hollow eyes.

“Y/N,” Franco said gently, stepping closer. “This isn’t love. Love doesn’t make you afraid to be yourself.”

She looked up at him, and for the first time, he saw it—the fear, the doubt, the realization that she was trapped.

And that’s when Franco vowed to get her out, no matter what it took.

---

Franco sat across from Y/N in his dimly lit living room. The cozy space that had always been filled with their laughter now felt stifling under the weight of her silence. Her eyes were glued to the floor, fingers fidgeting with the bracelet Marcus had gifted her.

“Y/N, enough.” Franco’s voice was sharp, his frustration barely contained. “Tell me what’s going on. All of it. No more ‘I’m fine,’ no more ‘It’s nothing.’ Because I can’t keep watching you like this.”

Y/N’s hands stilled, and she finally looked up at him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lips trembled as she tried to find the words.

“I—” she began, but her voice broke.

“Just say it,” Franco urged, leaning forward, his hands gripping his knees. “Whatever it is, I’m here. Always. You know that.”

And then, like a dam bursting, the words spilled out.

“I feel like I’m losing myself, Franco,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky. “It’s like… it’s like nothing I do is ever enough for him.”

Franco’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He controls everything. What I wear, what I eat, who I talk to. If I laugh too loud, he tells me I’m embarrassing him. If I spend too much time out, he says I don’t care about our relationship. And when I try to stand up for myself…”

Her voice cracked, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Franco’s heart shattered. “What happens when you stand up for yourself, Y/N?”

She hesitated, then finally whispered, “He gets angry. Really angry. He doesn’t hit me, but… he’ll yell, or give me the silent treatment for days. And then he’ll apologize, say he just wants the best for me, and I… I believe him. Every time.”

“That bastard,” Franco muttered under his breath, his eyes blazing with fury. “That manipulative, controlling piece of—”

“Stop!” Y/N cried, her voice rising as more tears streamed down her face. “You don’t understand, Franco. He says he loves me. He says he wants to marry me because he can’t live without me. What if he’s right? What if no one else could ever love me like he does?”

Franco shot out of his chair so fast it scraped against the floor. He stood towering over her, his hands trembling with anger.

“No one else could love you? Are you hearing yourself, Y/N? That’s not love—that’s control. That’s manipulation. He doesn’t love you, he loves the idea of owning you.”

Y/N flinched at his harsh tone, and he immediately softened, crouching down in front of her.

“Y/N,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re brilliant, funny, kind—you’ve got this light that draws people in. Don’t let him dim that light. Don’t let him make you think you’re less than you are.”

“But he’ll never let me go, Franco,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “He’ll find a way to keep me under his thumb. And I… I don’t know how to fight him.”

Franco’s protective instincts kicked into overdrive. He placed his hands firmly on her knees, looking her directly in the eyes.

“You don’t have to fight him alone,” he said fiercely. “You’ve got me. And I’ll fight him, Y/N. I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt you, who tries to take you away from the person you’re meant to be.”

“But how?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco’s eyes darkened with determination. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes, we’ll get you out of this. You’re not marrying him, you’re not staying with him—you’re not going to lose yourself because of some controlling prick who doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N broke down completely, sobs wracking her body as Franco pulled her into his arms. She clung to him like a lifeline, her tears soaking his shirt.

“I’m scared,” she admitted through her tears.

“I know,” Franco murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he held her tighter. “But I’m here. You’re not alone, Y/N. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.”

And in that moment, Franco vowed to do whatever it took to protect her—even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Marcus himself.

---

Franco sat in the back corner of a quiet café, nursing a cup of coffee he didn’t care to drink. Across the table sat Fernando Alonso, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen—three of Y/N’s closest confidants, all equally concerned about the situation she was trapped in.

“This guy sounds like a parasite,” Carlos muttered, leaning back in his chair with a scowl. “He’s feeding off her, controlling her life. It makes me sick.”

“Controlling isn’t even the right word,” Franco added, his voice sharp. “He’s obsessed with her. She’s terrified to even think about leaving him because of what he might do.”

Fernando leaned forward, his expression dark and calculated. “If he’s that obsessed, just walking away won’t work. He’ll follow her, pressure her, maybe even blackmail her. We have to remove him from the equation completely.”

Max raised an eyebrow, swirling his coffee absentmindedly. “What are you suggesting? Breaking his legs?”

“I wish,” Franco growled. “But we need something smarter. Something that gets rid of him without putting her in the middle of it.”

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Does he have any weaknesses? Anything we can use against him?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Franco said, pulling out his phone. “Y/N mentioned that Marcus has been pushing for marriage because he thinks it’ll lock her down. If we can prove he’s not as perfect as he pretends to be, maybe we can destroy his image. The guy’s got to have skeletons in his closet.”

“Everyone does,” Fernando said, his voice cool and composed. “We just have to dig deep enough to find them.”

Max smirked. “Lucky for you, I know a guy who’s great at digging. He’s done some work for me before—discreet and efficient.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had people investigated before?”

“Sometimes it’s useful,” Max said with a shrug. “Let me make a call. If Marcus has anything to hide, we’ll know soon enough.”

While Max stepped away to make the call, Carlos leaned toward Franco. “What about Y/N? Does she know we’re planning this?”

Franco shook his head. “She’s already scared out of her mind. I don’t want her worrying about this too. I’ll tell her once we have a solid plan.”

Carlos nodded, his jaw tightening. “Good. She doesn’t need any more stress right now. But Franco… if this guy doesn’t back off, I won’t sit back and play nice.”

“Neither will I,” Fernando added, his voice like steel. “But we’ll try it the clean way first. For Y/N’s sake.”

Max returned, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “My guy’s on it. Give him a couple of days, and we’ll have everything we need on Marcus.”

A heavy silence fell over the table, the weight of their plan sinking in.

“You think this will work?” Franco asked, his voice quieter now.

“It has to,” Fernando said firmly. “If it doesn’t, we’ll come up with something else. But we won’t let her stay trapped. Not while we’re here.”

Max smirked, though his tone was serious. “Don’t worry, mate. He’ll wish he’d never met Y/N by the time we’re done with him.”

Franco leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Thank you, guys. Seriously. I couldn’t do this alone.”

Carlos clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re all in this for her. And when she’s free of him, she’ll finally see what an idiot she’s been for not choosing you sooner.”

Franco blinked at Carlos, heat rising to his cheeks. “This isn’t about me.”

“No,” Fernando said, smirking faintly for the first time. “But it’s obvious how much you love her. She’s lucky to have you, Franco.”

Franco swallowed hard, determination flashing in his eyes. “She’s the one who deserves better. And I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The four of them exchanged grim nods, their shared goal uniting them. Marcus had no idea what was coming for him.

---

It was late in the evening when Franco received the call from Max’s contact. Standing in his apartment, he listened intently, his knuckles white as he gripped his phone.

“Are you sure about this?” Franco asked, pacing the floor.

“Positive,” the voice on the other end said. “Marcus has a history. Fraud, manipulation, even harassment complaints from two previous partners. It’s all there, buried deep, but enough to destroy him if it gets out.”

Franco’s jaw clenched. “Send me everything. Now.”

As soon as the call ended, Franco stared at the incoming files on his laptop. Each piece of evidence felt like a punch to the gut—not for Marcus’s sins, but for the fact that Y/N had been stuck with him, blind to the extent of his darkness.

He called Fernando, Carlos, and Max to his apartment. Within an hour, they were all seated around his laptop, reviewing the damning evidence.

“This guy is a predator,” Carlos said, his voice seething. “How did Y/N get caught up with him?”

“She didn’t know,” Franco said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s too kind, too trusting. He preyed on that.”

Fernando leaned back in his chair, his expression cold. “This is enough to get him out of her life. Publicly exposing him would ruin him. He’d be too busy cleaning up his mess to focus on her.”

Max tapped a finger on the table. “But we need to be smart about this. If Marcus suspects Y/N’s involved, he might retaliate. We have to keep her out of it entirely.”

Franco nodded. “Agreed. So, we leak this anonymously. Make sure it hits hard, fast, and far enough that he can’t trace it back to her.”

Carlos glanced at Franco. “How’s she holding up?”

“Barely,” Franco admitted, his voice low. “She’s trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell she’s breaking inside. She doesn’t even know about this yet.”

Max crossed his arms. “She won’t have to. We handle this, she stays safe, and Marcus is gone. End of story.”

Fernando, ever the strategist, stood. “I’ll make a few calls. I know someone who can ensure this hits the right places—media outlets, law enforcement, even his employers if he has any. Marcus won’t have time to even think about Y/N once this explodes.”

“Do it,” Franco said firmly. “I don’t care what it takes, just make sure it’s over.”

The plan was in motion, but Franco couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. He’d seen Y/N earlier that day, and the haunted look in her eyes was etched into his memory. She didn’t deserve any of this.

When the others left to put the plan into action, Franco sat alone, staring at his phone. His thumb hovered over Y/N’s contact. He wanted to call her, to tell her it would all be okay soon. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him—not yet.

Instead, he texted her:

Franco: I’m here if you need me. Always.

Her response came almost immediately:

Y/N: I know. Thank you.

Franco set his phone down, his determination solidifying. By this time tomorrow, Marcus would be nothing more than a bad memory. And Y/N would finally be free.

---

Y/N sat in Franco’s apartment, curled up on his couch with a mug of tea clutched in her hands. She hadn’t said much since arriving that morning, her anxiety bubbling over as Marcus’s world began to collapse. The plan was in motion, but the waiting was unbearable.

The knock on the door made her flinch, and Franco immediately went to answer it. Carlos stepped inside, his face grim, but the small glint in his eyes told Franco what he needed to know.

“It’s done,” Carlos said simply.

“What?” Y/N’s voice wavered, her head snapping up.

Carlos crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Marcus has been arrested. They found enough evidence to charge him with fraud and harassment, and with the media leak, his reputation is in shreds. He’s not getting near you again.”

Y/N’s mug slipped from her hands onto the table, her hands flying to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as the weight of his words settled in. “He’s… he’s really gone?”

Franco sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “He’s gone, Y/N. For good.”

She broke into sobs, burying her face in her hands. Relief poured out of her in waves, shaking her frame as the months of fear and anxiety began to melt away. Franco held her, his hand running soothingly up and down her back.

Over the Next Few Weeks

Y/N took slow but steady steps toward reclaiming her life. Franco was with her every step of the way—helping her rebuild her confidence, reminding her of who she was before Marcus had taken over her life.

One evening, as they sat on a park bench eating ice cream, Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It was a small laugh, but it was real, and Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You’re staring,” she teased, her voice lighter than it had been in weeks.

He grinned, his heart flipping at the sight of her smile. “Can you blame me? I’ve missed that laugh.”

She looked down, swirling her ice cream with the spoon. “I’ve missed it too. I didn’t even realize how much I’d lost until… until now.”

Franco nudged her playfully. “Well, it’s coming back. Little by little. And I’m here to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere this time.”

Y/N tilted her head to look at him, her gaze soft. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Franco. You’ve been my rock through all of this.”

A Month Later

“Close your eyes,” Franco said one evening, leading Y/N by the hand into his living room.

“Franco, what are you up to?” she asked, her tone suspicious but amused.

“Trust me,” he said with a grin.

When she opened her eyes, the room was lit with fairy lights, and her favorite snacks and a cozy blanket were laid out on the couch. A projector screen displayed her favorite childhood movie.

“Movie night?” she asked, her voice catching slightly.

“Not just any movie night,” Franco said, gesturing grandly. “The start of the new, sparkly, unstoppable Y/N era. Consider this a celebration of you being… well, you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she hugged him tightly. “You’re too good to me, Franco.”

He hugged her back, his chest tightening. You deserve the world, he thought, but didn’t say it. Instead, he said, “It’s what you deserve.”

Weeks Turn to Months

Y/N began finding joy in the little things again—taking walks, experimenting with new hobbies, even joining Franco at karting tracks where he indulged her playful trash talk about his skills.

One afternoon, as she beat him in a casual race, she threw her arms in the air triumphantly. “Told you I’d wipe the floor with you, Colapinto!”

Franco laughed, pulling off his helmet. “Alright, alright, you win. But don’t forget who’s the professional here.”

She winked. “Professional loser today.”

He watched her, his heart swelling with pride and adoration. She was glowing again, her spark fully returned. And every day, he found himself falling deeper in love.

But he kept those feelings locked away—for now. Because seeing her happy was all that mattered.

For now.

---

Franco stood nervously in the middle of the clearing, the moonlight filtering through the tall trees. Their childhood spot had transformed—fairy lights twinkled between the branches, and soft candles lined the pathway leading to the small wooden bench they had carved their initials into as kids. He had spent hours making it perfect. Tonight, he would tell Y/N everything.

He heard her soft footsteps before he saw her. Turning, he saw Y/N step into the clearing, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Franco…” she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “What is all this?”

He smiled, though his heart was racing. “A walk down memory lane. Do you remember when we used to come here every summer? When the world felt simple and small?”

She nodded, tears already forming in her eyes as she took in the glowing lights and the warmth of the scene. “I… I can’t believe you did this. It’s beautiful.”

Franco held out his hand, and she took it, letting him guide her to the bench. They sat side by side, the soft glow of the lights illuminating her face.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. Months, actually. Maybe years, if I’m honest.”

She tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “What moment?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. “The moment I stop pretending that I’m just your best friend. That I don’t feel everything for you, every single day. The moment I tell you the truth.”

Her lips parted, her breath hitching, but she said nothing, her eyes searching his.

“You’ve been through so much,” Franco continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve watched you lose yourself and then fight to get your light back. And every step of the way, I’ve loved you. Not just as my best friend, but as the person who makes my life brighter just by being in it.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Franco…”

“I love how you challenge me, how you make me laugh, how you see the good in everyone—even when they don’t deserve it. And I hate that I waited this long to tell you, but I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Of scaring you away.”

Her hand covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling as his words washed over her.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I want to be the person who makes you feel safe, and loved, and free. Forever. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Then Y/N let out a shaky laugh, wiping her tears. “You idiot,” she said softly. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I just thought you’d never see me that way.”

Franco’s breath caught. “Wait… what?”

She nodded, laughing through her tears. “You were always the one, Franco. I was just too scared to ruin what we had.”

He let out a breath of disbelief before pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You could never ruin anything, Y/N. Not with me.”

As they pulled back, she cupped his face, her eyes shining. “You’re my everything too, Franco. And I’m so glad you didn’t wait any longer.”

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. “So, does that mean you’ll go out with me? Officially?”

She laughed, nodding. “Yes, you idiot. A thousand times yes.”

Under the glow of the lights, Franco kissed her—soft and slow, pouring years of love and longing into that single moment. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

[kousanosgf]

men, minors dni

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

councilor!sevika x assistant!reader

you and sevika have to attend a banquet. and yes, sevika is wearing a dress

tags: sfw

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

"behave. promise?" you look up to sevika, finishing your work of smoothing out the wrinkles on her dress and brushing off little dust dots.

she is basically pouting, the prospect to waist the night at some rich folks banquet seems hellish to her.

you spent hours convincing her to go. "you have to go, we worked so hard for the council to like you, gotta uphold the image." eventually, sevika agrees and you're surprised that you didn't have to butter her up more.

it appears to be she just wanted to save energy for further arguments. because as soon as you suggested her wearing a dress, she enthusiastically refused, which led you to more bickering.

you won, of course. as soon as you started dating, sevika was never able to say no to you. so when you came to the last resort of "please, babe, you'll look so hot", when all the logical arguments of "you'll seem more aproachable", "they'll notice your effort to try and fit in" etc. didn't work.

you understood, though not fully since your backgrounds were so different, how hard it was for sevika to be on the council, fighting for her people's right to live happily, at times bending her temper and swallowing harsh words said her way. but piltover's elites are a bunch of snobs and you have to make them tolerate you before you can do anything productive.

"we need to get the budget for exchange programme and for that you need the votes." your recent project to help zaun's teens study abroad that both of you've been fighting for tooth and nail for several months now.

sevika huffs out and brings her head down, nuzzling in the crook of your neck. "alright. promise."

finally getting the confirmation, you pat her head gently, to not ruin the wet hairstyle you've done yourself, practicing for days in advance.

"remember what i told you?"

"be nice, let you do the talking." sevika raises her head to look at you again.

"good girl" you smile and turn to grab your clutch from the vanity. you look over yourself in the mirror one final time and make your way to the door, not bothering to check if sevika follows you.

"will i get something as a reward?" she asks, her voice deep, as she catches your arm and presses your body into the corridor's walls, towering over. and, gods, she looks divine. the black fabric hugging her body in all the right places, highliting her curves for your eyes to feast on. your hand runs up her bare spine, fingers lightly touching the muscles. "is the prospect of helping your people not enough of a reward, councilor?"

both of you giggle, and you get this buzzing in your stomach as you feel sevika's body shake slightly from laughter against yours. gone were the days when you avoided her for that exact feeling, making you two miserable. you found that sedating your conscience and work ethics was very easy around her, in her arms. hiding your relationship wasn't much of a trouble since sevika didn't seem to like explicit pda, the most you got is a peck on the cheek or a stroll hand in hand, when you knew you're away from any colleagues. and sevika definitely doubled down behind the closed doors, basically attached to your hip, unable to keep her hands off you.

"come on, time to head out." you push sevika lightly on the shoulder to head to the door.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚˚⁺‧͙

the evening was going smoothly so far. you and sevika arrived fashionably late to attract enough needed attention. people were starring, you knew that much even though the glances were not addressed your way. they were in awe, looking sevika up and down, taking in her broad shoulders, crosses by the black straps of the dress.. you had to hide a smirk every time you noticed, knowing you were the one to dress her up in all the nicest things that suited her so much.

your time was mostly spend by sevika's side, floating between this and that groups of people. the wealthiest merchant's family. an ambassador, seemingly finally able to return to piltover and enjoy his home's elite life. some carefree and arogant flock of politician's kids.

sevika was growing bored and restless by a minute. the best you could do is snatch a glass of champagne from the waiter's tray and push it in sevika's hand. "give me half an hour. an hour at most." you promised her.

"i don't know how you do this." she sipped her champagne and rolled her eyes.

"it's fun really, if you know how to play-"

"councilor sevika! wasn't expecting you to join us tonight." a cheery man interrupted you, making you take a step back from sevika for a more appropriate distance. you looked the man over and recognized him as pavle peric, the owner of the biggest precious metals mines in piltover, he didn't seem to even adress you.

"my conscience wouldn't let me stay away from this." sevika answered and smiled, sharing a look with you.

"yes, yes. great you're finally taking time to fit in the society." it looks like pavle took sevika's smile as his accomplishment as his smirk widens. "we all were wondering when you finally open up to some local culture."

you notice sevika tense slightly at the comment, as she catches the jab. a way to ruin a perfectly fine evening, you sigh inside your head.

"a new position, especially such as a councilor can take some time to get used to the new responsibilities." you're quick to smooth out the situation before the disaster happens. your hand touches sevika's lightly, asking to let you handle it. she stays silent.

pavle finally seems to notice you. his face scrunches, the man isn't happy that you dared speaking to him. "well, i suggest councilor expand her social circle. my advice to you, you can't always drag servants with you at events like this." he laughs cruelly, looking you up and down.

"she's my assistant." sevika cuts out, immediately starting to boil with anger.

"a servent, an assistant, same thing really. my advice to you, councilor sevika. first thing you gotta do is meet right friends. you're in piltover now, time to find people your level."

it all happens too fast. one second sevika stands by your side, the other she launches for the man, grabbing him by the lapel of his suit. your group gets couple of surprised gasps, the only thing that saves you is that you're standing behind a massive column, which hides you from the rest of the hall.

"do you think the same of the workers in your mines?! some consumable material to fill you pocket, while they lay their health and lives for their families to have a chance to survive?!"

you're panicking. sevika's right of course, pavle is a real scum and doesn't hide it. the way he runs his business, the way he treats his employees. but such an outburst can cause you and sevika months of hard work. you approach sevika, feeling guilty for your next words.

"councilor, please. mister peric is only giving his feedback as a more experienced man in these matters."

"no." her brows frown more, she doesn't spare you a glance, still fixated on the man. yet she gives in a little, letting go of him but still towering over pavle's figure. "you will apologize to my assistant."

"no need. mister peric didn't offend me in any way."

sevika persists, waiting for men to speak up but he's definitely too scared by her force now to say a thing.

"we still need to meet councilor shoola, councilor sevika." you try again, your hand carefully touches her back, and you just hope that the gesture would go unnoticed by others. it seems to work, goosebumps rise up sevika's spine as she relaxes a little, her expression still furious though.

a silent moment passes between the three of you before sevika turns with a low growl and storms away, heading for the massive glass doors which lead to the manor's gardens.

you take your time to say sorry to the man and hurry outside after her.

it's dark already, the hours come closer to midnight. still it's not hard to find sevika outside, she chose a place for you to notice her immediately when you walk out.

"say it." she huffs out and crosses her arms on her chest.

"what do you want to hear?" you smile slightly as she reminds you of a pouty kid. only to you though, if someone would see sevika in a mood like this, they'll think twice before even coming closer.

"i ruined it."

"you didn't ruin anything, vika."

you chew on your lip for a moment, thinking what to say next while sevika just stays quiet.

"i'm thankful, really." you look around for the unwanted witnesses and, after making sure no one is watching you, put you palm on her cheek.

"there were no person in my life before, who would've stand up for me like you did there."

"cause all of them have their head up their ass." sevika's anger seems to calm down, words less harsh. she covers your hand with hers, pressing her face deeper into your touch.

"but you need to understand-"

"here it comes." she rolls her eyes but doesn't let go.

"-i'm able to handle people like him." you continue, putting pressure into your words.

"your people's well-being is more important than my honor."

sevika just sighs, neither denying nor agreeing with you. you just stand there, waiting for her to process what she needs.

finally, something in her face shifts, she takes a deep breath and hits you with a quiet "i love you."

it's not the first time you hear it, you say that to each other almost every day. but this time just feels different, like it has more meaning to it. you have not much to say in the response except for simple "i love you too, vika."

both of you hear footsteps somewhere near, making you let go of each other, an intimate moment between you not ruined completely, bit it reminds you that you're not alone.

"i think it's time to head home." sevika suggests and you can't do anything but to agree.

—————————————————————————

tbh wanted to write this as oooh sexy sevika in a dress but it took completely different turn. but i guess still gonna write sev in a dress smut (i feel like she definitely needs to be strapped for being so good), cause that's what sevika stans deserve 🫦

[strrykais]

───〃★ his royal duty

contains mature themes (S)

♯┆pairing - bodyguard!changbin x princess!reader

♯┆summary - when rebels break in overnight into your castle, your personal guard changbin has his duty to keep you protected. hours locked in, in one of the safe rooms, you decided to take it upon yourself to finally jump on the chance to finally get him under you.

♯┆word count - 1.1k

♯┆author's note - heya guys finally put this out for ya! if you have any requests for written stuff dont be afraid to send in any asks !!

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

you could feel the way changbin was sneaking glances at you. it got you thinking maybe just maybe you can finally get him right where you want him after months of trying. you weren't sure if he was just ignoring you because of your status or he was just oblivious.

you disliked when your parents at first told you that you were going to get a personal guard, as the rebel attacks were starting to become more frequent. your parents were scared for your safety.

but when you first laid eyes on changbin you were almost thankful that the rebels were attacking. you did everything to get his attention, but your favorite was asking him to help you out of your dresses.

"don't you have maids for this?" he would always ask as his fingers lightly grazed the soft skin on your spine, sending shivers down your back. "i've sent them off, it's just you and i." you almost smile as you watch him shift behind you from the mirror.

now you watch him avoiding your intense eyes while you both wait out the rebel attack happening up above. at first you were upset that you didn't grab anything to completely cover up, but changbin quickly reacted by giving you a thin blanket to cover up.

you could help but smile at the situation he always tries to get out of, you alone with him.

"changbin, i'm pretty cold. maybe we should huddle for warmth."

watching him squirm in his seat across from you, "i'll let you take mine." he gently lays the blanket over the table for you to grab.

"do you repulse me that much, where we can't even touch?" now you were kind of pissed, you were clearly obvious with your intentions.

changbin rolls his neck, "look princess, that can't happen so whatever scenarios you got going on in that pretty little head, it's not gonna happen." leaning back on the chair crossing his arms.

you smile, you stopped listening "so you do think i'm pretty."

"is that all you got from that?"

"come on, one time. i obviously won't tell anyone, and nobody would know. you literally have a princess on her knees asking to have sex with her."

"it doesn't look like you are on your knees." he says, spreading his legs further as if telling you to get there.

you were on your feet in an instant, walking over to him. he stops you before you kneel down, grabbing the blanket on the table and placing it down for you. "i can't have a princess on the hard floor."

positioning yourself between his legs, you were buzzing your whole body vibrating with anticipation. you knew you wanted him badly but you both have even begun and you could feel the wetness pooling in your underwear. you slowly reach out pulling at his pants, eager to take them off.

as changbin lifts his hips to help you lower them, his dick slaps against his abdomen, which brings a smile to your lips. "looks like i'm not the only one who is feeling excited."

before letting him get a word out you reach out to grab the base of his dick, kissing at his tip. licking the pre-cum dripping out from his tip. he sucks in a breath as you slowly lick the vein from his base to tip, engulfing him whole as he reaches the back of your throat.

changbin was trying so hard to not hurt you, letting you bob your head as far as you can, while using your much smaller hands to rub the part that could not fit. changbin could take it anymore, mumbling a sorry gripping your hair shoving your face further down, while completely standing up now thrusting hard into the back of your throat.

"fuck, its so nice having you shut up for once. just s-stay there and take it, princess."

gripping the back of his thighs, moaning out around him. changbin never talked back, or even questioned you, always so submissive, but now you were seeing this different side of him. the ache between your legs was getting to be too much, reaching down to try to relieve that pain, changbin pulls you completely off of him. you gasp, eyes shooting open staring up at him.

"did i say you can touch yourself, princess. hands behind your back before i punish you." following his orders. "open up pretty." you did exactly what he asked. changbin didn't even give you time, as he shoved himself down your throat. your nose hitting his lower stomach, changbin hearing you gag around him only fueled him to speed up.

"fuck baby im gonna cum." changbin starts to pull out of your mouth only for you to reach out and pull him back in, sucking and bobbing your head. "fuck." he moaned out as he came.

changbin slumped down onto the chair, head leaned back, eyes closed. taking this opportunity you climbed into his lap, position yourself over him as you sink down. his eyes pop open when he feels your warm walls sucking him in. rocking your hips slowly against him, you start to bounce on him. changbin groans, wrapping his hands around your waist, helping you bounce faster on him.

"fuck you are tight baby, sucking me in so nicely." he says lifting his hips up to match your movements.

you lean down to plant a kiss on his lips, chanbin leans up to meet you. moaning into your kiss, changbin kisses down your jaw, planting kisses onto your neck, lightly nipping at it, scared to leave marks for your parents to see.

you could feel your climax approaching, burying your face into changbin, legs getting tired. "i'm gonna cum."

"cum for me baby, god please cum for me." he says breathlessly trying not to lose himself in how perfect you fit around him. like you were made for him.

"fuck changbin oh my god." you screamed out, legs becoming jelly as changbin holds you up,, the feeling of you pulsing around him, brings him over the edge as his movements falter and with his last stroke he buries himself deep into you. you can feel his cum filling you up, causing you to moan out.

"damn if i knew your pussy was this good, i would've taken your advances long ago." he says out, patting your hair softly as you come down from your high.

you laugh out loud lightly hitting his side, "so you were playing dumb." 

permanent taglist: @hyunestrella @spicy-sawdust @charlieg1rl @gnabnahcbby @totheseok @mystverse @jisungs-iced-americano @kimseungminpabo @bookswillfindyouaway @puppy-minnie @katchowbbie @night-storm7 @auroratiseee @goldenmellow @sellomaybe

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Sam and Dean, while definitely different people, aren't as different as they sometimes seem. And, I believe, the point of DSotM was the gravitational push-pull they exert on each other. Because while Sam DOES want a "normal" life, it's not that he didn't want Dean to also be a part of that life. Sam has never really wanted to cut Dean out, but Dean wants to be a hunter and has never felt like he was cut out for "normal." Normal, to Dean, was boring and like sticking your head in the sand to avoid seeing what was really going on. He couldn't do it, and the one time he really tried (although after the episode in question), he was slowly suffocating. But Dean has always had to be the responsible one. Which is funny because he's so immature in so many ways. Sam never was really allowed to be fully responsible for anything, even when he was left alone at too young of an age for way too long to be healthy. So he longed for what he saw as adult responsibilities... college and a career and a future in the civilian world. But they both want the other one around, they just want the other one in their world. And for a lot of the show, that put them at odds. DSotM encapsulated a tidal shift, which is a big part of what makes it such a gripping episode. The angels conspired to make Dean believe that Sam was better off without him, that Sam believed he was happiest without Dean. Those memories chosen to make Dean feel like he was worthless to Sam. And this successfully hurts Dean enough that he throws away the amulet, effectively pushing Sam away, at least to armslength. Also important to remember that Castiel had borrowed the amulet to use it to try and find God. When that failed, Cas brought it back but called it worthless. This just underscored how Dean was feeling and was the final nail in the coffin, so to speak. This entire episode was about fracturing their relationship using Dean's insecurities, and it worked. But it also made Sam truly see how his own actions and choices had affected Dean, how much Sam had inadvertently hurt his brother every time he'd tried to pull away. And so Sam then becomes the one trying to hold on to his brother. Because they can't actually leave each other. The tragedy, as far as I've always seen it, was that they really both did want the other in their life, they were just too broken and unprepared to navigate any of it without hurting each other. The thing that the angels could never really understand was that when one of them pulled away, it would inevitably drag the other one along after him, because they're bound together at their soul (soulmates) and nothing could actually break that, not Heaven, or Hell, or any of the monstrous things in between... not even Sam or Dean.

dsotm said dean's heaven is being frozen in a golden memory of innocence and purity and closeness, glass of milk, mommy with an apron on, 'I'll never leave you', taking care of Sammy, bob dylan needle drop, before it all went wrong, back in time, back to the beginning, and sam's heaven is a straining towards something better somewhere else, some unknown horizon, and in sam's heaven he is alone, he is singular, he is LEAVING, dean's desire to return vs sam having nothing to return to, dean with people (or echoes) and sam alone or with strangers, and then said both these ideals have to coexist in the same space bc these people's souls are inextricable from one another, they spent their whole lives together and they will be together in death also. ok. ok

[jaggedamethyst]

…look for the light

joel miller x f!reader | 2.7k

pairing: joel miller (tlou) x fem reader

content: you're tired of hearing that old slogan from the fireflies...but maybe you should give it a chance.

notes: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut for the girlies (smfh + side eye) also unprotected in the heat of the moment unfortunately…dont be like them! angst because it's my specialty, mental health depictions (illusions to death, depression, etc. do not read if that's a serious trigger) this takes place in the time jump between tlou 1 and tlou 2…tons of existential crisis otw, grief, everything unfortunately…and i still don’t believe in proofreading

also this is the longest i've written so far...of course it involves joel too...hashtag need that.

 ࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ🍂🌿༄。°          ° 。༄🌿🍂·ﾟ*࿔ ࿐

You hadn’t arrived in Jackson on your own. At the time, you were one of a family of four. As time passed, the number dwindled along with your will to live. Back when everything was normal--or as normal as it could’ve been in a world that corrupt, you saw a therapist. You knew it was in their career description to listen. It helped sometimes, others it didn’t. Overall, though, you’d say they’d done a shit job if at the first sign of loss, you wanted to cease to exist. 

When you weren’t overthinking, you found yourself on patrol. It became ironic that you rejoiced at the sight of a fresh dead body. Knowing that the person before you had made a mistake you could now avoid lit a small fire in you. The flame didn’t last long though, quickly blown out every day with a speed just as fast as its ignition. 

To be candid, there was this guy. Well, this man. You couldn’t do him the injustice of calling him anything but a man. You saw him often--sometimes to himself, others with this girl. No matter the circumstance, though, he rarely spoke. You liked that. Something about people who acknowledged their capability to not speak made you extremely happy. Silence is a valid option. 

As an observer, you learned his name was Joel, the girl Ellie. They’d arrived about the same time as you, which explained the lack of interaction. This was, of course, aside from glances, the fake half-ass smiles you exchanged, and your time on patrol together. 

Unfortunately, he was the worst. It absolutely burned you up. That, and the fact that even when he annoyed you, you wanted to have extremely private time with him. 

The first time you actually spoke, he’d found you by a stream. You didn’t know he was showing the girl, Ellie, something that day. But as you lay with your eyes closed, taking in the sunlight--a shadow cascaded over you. 

You opened one eye to see who’d stepped in the way. Before you could get a word out, he spoke, “You from Jackson?”

“Who’s asking?” You created a sort of visor over your eyes with your hand. 

He huffed, “someone from Jackson.” 

Resuming your position on the ground, you spoke, “You some sort of Jackson cop? You seem like the cop type.” 

He scoffed. You realized he did that a lot, not speaking, making annoyed sounds. Not answering questions directly. 

“You should get back.” 

With a quirked brow, you replied, “I’m good, thanks.” 

“Wasn’t really a question.”

“Didn’t say it was.” 

By this point you’d opened your eyes again, surveying the man. You kind of felt bad for being snippy but honestly, he interrupted your “alone with my thoughts” time. Some people can cope without thinking of the same incidents in a constant loop. Not you--you liked the hurt. It reminded you to be safe. To not trust people. 

Even in that position, though, you observed the man. He looked rough, but in a way that motioned toward experience. There were hints of gray in his hair, yet he didn’t look old. His shirt was slightly opened, tattered. The sheen of sweat covering him made him all the more alluring in the sunlight. 

“Are you gonna get the hell up and get a move on or what?” 

You didn’t know him at the time, or that he was trying to surprise Ellie on her birthday. Even worse, that on this day, he’d thought of his daughter. He was coping. Anyone or anything out of place was shattering the amazing plan he had made to go a day without feeling like a disappointment. 

He didn’t know that your “alone with my thoughts” time often consisted of thinking of your family. You’d willed yourself to shut your eyes tight, picturing those you lost; it was the only time you could see them. If you got lucky, you could dream of them. If you were unlucky, you’d see images of their mangled bodies. 

It seemed that even awake, your luck was the fucking worst. 

With swift and silent movements, you stood and turned to leave. Avoiding eye contact was the only way to hide the tears prickling in your eyes. 

“Dude,” a young voice called out, “you hurt her feelings!”

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to, Ellie!” 

Like you said, he was the worst. But you definitely took it to the next level at every opportunity. 

That’s how you found yourself on patrol with Joel giving him the silent treatment. It was customary at this point. If you two went alone, he would bark out orders, you’d follow if you felt like it. If someone else happened to be there, you two would rely on an unspoken rule to only speak to them and not one another. It worked…until today. 

Entrapment wasn’t a new feeling for you. Often on patrol specifically, you would have to maneuver your way out of dangerous positions to return. But the realization of there being nobody to return to hit you today. So even when Joel and Jesse said to stay back, you proceeded. It was a miracle none of you three were bitten or worse. Your reckless act left the trek back to Jackson completely silent. 

When you reached the gate safely, Jesse spoke first. It was obvious he was shaken up but even more annoyed with you. “Kinda fucked up you did that. Did you even consider that you would put me and Joel in danger?” 

“Nobody told you to follow me, to be honest.” 

“I don’t give a fuck! When we leave, we work together… or we don’t go.” 

Joel shook his head silently, observing the way Jesse continued to rip into you. You continued the back and forth until Jesse hit extremely low. 

“Look, I know you lost people…I remember them-”

You spoke over him, a finger out in warning, “Don’t-” 

“And just because you feel like there is no worth left in your sorry ass life, doesn’t mean I wanna die right now. Not for you. Not on a stupid patrol mission.” 

It felt like he punched you. Square in the face. The way your breath left you was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Not since the day you realized your entire family was gone. As a result of that day, you grew accustomed to silent walks back to your house. You got used to the sounds your house made between the silence. 

You didn’t hear Joel’s faint footsteps and persistent calls to you as he followed behind. It wasn’t until the unusual sound of your door not immediately closing behind you that you turned around to see him there. 

“You didn’t even stop him, you just stood there like you always do!”

His signature sigh and no response. Just a sort of expectant look on his face. 

“Get. Out. Please.” 

You begged him to leave, your voice breaking. It was somewhere in the midst of you slowly falling toward the floor that he reached you. He knew what you were experiencing right now. The dull panging in your body, a faint scream at you, and a feeling that of anyone it should’ve been you to go, not your family. 

He didn’t want to admit that he recognized the bubble of sadness around you, as he’d be forced to acknowledge his own. The least he could do was to comfort you in a way he had yearned for when he lost Sarah. When he lost Tess. When he thought Tommy was gone. But he failed, as he always did, crying with you. 

He urged you to quiet your sobs, “It’s okay, shhh.” 

His attempts at soothing you were a sort of reassurance to himself--that it was okay. It could be okay. He eventually grasped your face, too, forcing you to look at him. He wanted you to believe him, despite the lack of conviction in his voice. The eye contact shocked you both. You had never seen the man cry let alone been this close to him. From a distance, it's easy to think that any dark-colored eye is just black but his…

“Brown…” You mumbled incoherently. 

“What?”

“Your eyes. I’ve never really looked at ‘em.” 

He was confused, “yeah, brown.” 

“It's just that, it's easy to overlook things…” when you’re so stuck in the past, you wanted to say. But you left it. You had a feeling he understood. 

It was hard to not lean into his touch, even harder to not want to be near him. He noticed you staring, but there was still so much left unsaid. Thinking about it, he never really allowed himself to carry out a conversation with you. But there was an unspoken attraction between you. It was easy to minimize said attraction to one where you needed each other. It was suffice to say that it was more tantamount to the way particles were reliant on one another. Even more, the way symbiosis occurred. Despite the urge to push one another away, you knew that you did, in fact, need each other. 

If not for a long time, at least for now. 

Without a word, you pushed up a bit, meeting your lips with his. He was obviously taken aback; there was so much behind the kiss…but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

You pulled at his shirt, that damned shirt he always liked to wear. Always opened slightly, but never enough to give you what you needed.

“Can I?” You broke the kiss and motioned toward the buttons, breaking eye contact for a second. 

Joel let out a characteristic sound, affirming you, “Mhm, yeah…” 

You moved your hands lower, stopping at the close of his top. “Are you sure?” 

The man understood you. The shirt acted as a sort of metaphorical barrier between the two of you. As much as it scared the both of you to cross that line, there was an unspoken respect for one another. 

He noticed your apprehension, bearing the task of taking down that wall for you both. 

Joel unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, intentional in his action. 

He watched you shiver, “I haven’t…I want…I mean-” 

That same alluring stare maintained its gaze at you, Joel allowing you the time to process and say what you wanted to. 

“I want to feel…be close to you. Not because I want to use you or something…I just,” You searched for words that seemed to escape you. 

His words interrupted your thought process, a gentle but calloused hand returning to your face. 

“You don’t have to have a reason. Use me.” 

That was enough to make you attack him full force. You’d thought of each other so long that there was an urgency. There wasn’t time for niceties or the pleasantries of preparing yourself for him. You just wanted each other immediately. 

The trail of clothing that led to your room was something out of one of those old movies you watched. Before everything went to shit. You allowed yourself a smirk at the thought--Joel hot on your trail. 

Joel observed how clean your place was. He was one to keep tidy, too. Not for the thought of expecting someone, but for lack of people except him. There were few things he held near and dear, so a large space like his home was often unused save for his bed and couch. It seemed you echoed this thought, and that made him even more eager. Knowing you had so much in common made him insatiable.

You found yourselves kissing again, seeking comfort in each other. It was sweet and slow. You couldn’t handle it, the lack of him. 

“Joel, please,” you backed towards the bed. Now fully available for him. With you demanding everything be so structured to protect yourself these days, you were willing to let go for once. 

He didn’t say anything, he never did. But the way he hovered over you, maintained eye contact and pushed into you said enough. 

His pace was somewhere between painfully slow and slower. He felt your wetness, the way you were ready for him already, and it made him harder. He knew he wouldn’t last long if he went any faster. 

You reached up, pushing the hair out of his face. It was a distraction from how good it felt, even the purposely slow pressure, but you wanted more. 

You bucked up into him. He hissed and grunted in your ear, that’s new. 

The southern drawl was even more apparent on the man. “Shit. I’m tryin’ to…make it last,” his head met your shoulder, breath against your skin. “Cant.” 

“Don’t.” 

You couldn’t see his face, but you figured a look of surprise flashed there. It only took a second for him to pick up the pace. Those grunts filled the room; his wordless communication was now music to your ears. 

You continued that way for not much longer--but the high was unlike any other. He reached down to rub between you, making sure you’d finish. The thought of him caring about you in that way and the pointed pressure of his strong hands doing so was enough to make your body pulse against him. 

He pushed you back down, keeping you still, “Don’t move, baby.” 

It was a lot. 

His movements became even more erratic, but it felt so damn good. 

“Where should I?” 

You arched a brow, “You want a little Joel running around here somewhere?” 

He chuckled, so sweetly, too. Fuck. 

“Wow, even full like this you still got a mouth on ya. I’m gonna work on that.” 

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could even complain, latched his mouth onto you until he finished and your voice went dry from calling out his name. 

Okay…

The usual urge to freshen up never came. The smell of Joel was all over you, and you liked it that way. You breathed in and out, processing what happened, fighting to stay awake. The sound of the man’s snores was enough to keep you awake in itself. 

It wasn’t until you heard the snores stop and Joel stirring that you spoke again.

“I’m sorry.” 

Joel turned his head toward you, clearly still half asleep, “For?” 

“For that day, in the woods, when we first met. I was mean.” 

“I understand. A random guy shows up asking questions. You get defensive. It happens to the best of ‘em.” 

There was silence. One long enough that Joel sat up to get out of bed--you stopped him when you spoke. 

“I was thinking of my family,” a pause, and with it, your eyes burned a bit. “I don’t know why I act the way I do. I don’t know why I’m… harsh. Part of me thinks it's because they are always looking at who I have become and are so disappointed. The other part of me thinks that they don’t see me at all…or that they can’t…that there’s nothing more after this. I dunno which feels worse but I know it drives me fucking crazy.” 

He silently reached for your hand, deliberate in his response. “I like to think that the big moments we share with the people we lose are more important than anything after.” He nodded, assuring himself before continuing. “Good or bad, their memory only survives as long as we are thinking of them.” He paused to look toward his wrist, almost out of muscle memory. “Our families may not be here, but even mentioning them proves that they were real. I know my baby girl was real, I can’t fail her by going on like she wasn’t.” He inched closer to you, “If it takes me being sad to know that there was someone I loved here before, I’ll stomach it any day.” 

You nodded slightly. 

“Thanks.” 

A hum resonated from him, and he made his way out of your house. He was elusive as always, and definitely just as attractive..if not more so now. But his words stuck with you. 

That stupid catchphrase from the Fireflies…you’d heard it often. The aftershocks of the group persisted even after they’d slowly dwindled in numbers. When you’re lost in the darkness…

Wiping your eyes, you pulled the covers back a bit more. A lot of time had passed, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel like it was ripped from you. 

After a few minutes, the Sun started to rise, heat emanating from your window. You felt the warmth slowly reach your face--closing your eyes. 

For once, you’d look forward to sleep, and even more, the possibility of dreaming.

[stellar-collective]

have y’all ever seen that one post about Mistlefoe(TM)? it’s just mistletoe but instead of kissing whoever is under it you have to FIGHT them.

i think that mistlefoe is a time-honored Agency/Zoraxis tradition that stretches back so far that no one knows which of the two organizations came up with it first. over the years, it’s been honed down to a science: no weapons, one attack each, dodging and blocking is allowed. it’s still stupid dangerous but when has that EVER stopped them

most people have a signature attack that they do under the mistlefoe. here are a couple of my ideas, feel free to add on!!

Agent Phoenix - bit of a wildcard; default is a friendly slug to the shoulder since most agents don’t try to dodge their attack (highly subject to change since every Phoenix is so different)

Reginald - a well-telegraphed right hook that can be easily dodged. you’d better actually dodge it tho bc he hits HARD

Juniper - he’s slapping you. everyone knows that that’s what he’s going to do, and everyone thinks that they’re going to be the one who can block or dodge or otherwise avoid it, but you cannot prevent the John Juniper Movie Slap. it is inevitable. he’s slapped everyone at Zoraxis, and now he’s slapping everyone at the Agency. you cannot stop him

Roxana - she thinks that this game is stupid (true) but if absolutely forced to participate she’ll roll her eyes and punch you in the solar plexus and instantly knock the wind out you. most people don’t force her into it twice

Fabricator - she plays dirty, man. either she’s got a trap already set up (technically against the rules, but who’s going to call her out?) or she’s going for the shins with her high heels. you will die

Solaris - she’ll effortlessly block anything you throw at her, then flick your forehead. sounds weak but she’s got enough finger strength she can knock you off your feet like that

Hivemind - no bees allowed, so he’ll just pinch you really hard for a similar effect

Caliente - he’s the sort of man who respects the classics. you can expect any kind of straight-forward punch from him

Anna - when she first joined, she’d go for the ribs. by the end, though, whatever she threw was so easy to dodge it was sort of hard to tell what she was even going for

Ollie - he’s either booping your nose or laying you out flat with a punch even he didn’t know he was capable of, no inbetween

Zor - pray that you never find yourself under the mistlefoe with them. no one knows what they do because no one has ever survived it

did i miss your fave? do you have a funnier idea? lmk :]

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

in the sugar and spice universe, the boys know that she cams and i assume that she’s aware that her roommates watch, but does she know about ransom watching?

a/n: i. am. gnawing. at. my. cage.

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist

we’ve already established that his discovery of your little hobby was what ended your relationship. i imagine that he fell over your stream while just browsing for something to jerk off to and then BOOM, there you were. 

in true asshole fashion, he of course confronted you about it in a big ol fight:

“choose. come on. me or that.”

“ransom,” you sighed as he kept on pushing.

“come on,” he roared, “just pick goddamn it!”

“that!” you blurted as he kept on yelling, “i wanna keep camming!” though that statement hadn’t been what he’d predicted, “it makes me happy and you–…”

“…i don’t?”

“not lately…”

“well how else would you think i’d react to finding out my girl has secretly been whoring herself out to anyone with an internet connection?”

the slap you then crack against his cheek echoed throughout the whole room, “fuck you,” you spat, “don’t ever talk to me, don’t even look at me, ever again.”

and then you tried to stay as far away from him as possible even though i think he would have kept trying to worm his way back into your good graces (because he obviously fucked up)

you also moved in with steve, bucky and curtis after the breakup and i imagine they began to act as your bodyguards when it came to your ex. keeping an eye out and helping you avoid him at all costs. 

but the thing is, from the moment that he first discovered your stream, and honestly also as a way to lick his wounds post-breakup, he kept going back to it, kept opening up the website till it was permanently open on his phone, always ready for when you went live or posted something (a pic or vid or just flirty message)

it was like an addiction and he couldn’t stop

he wasn’t even ashamed about it because to him it was a way to keep your faded relationship alive, keep you with him and for a generous tip (which he could more than afford as the trust fund kid he was) you’d still do as he wished, still follow his sinful commands.

turn around, let me see that ass

be a good girl and turn up the speed

send me those panties after you’ve soaked them with your cream, i’ll pay double your usual rate for the underwear you sell.

did you know that TittyCokeKingXXX, one of your most loyal followers and top tippers, was your ex? hell no.

how would you finally discover his true identity? maybe it would be at a party you’re both at, a celebration after the football team’s latest victory (of which both your roomies steve and bucky are on, but unfortunately so is ransom) 

he probably gets too drunk and then the truth starts slipping out

maybe he thinks he still has a shot, but just as you turn him down, he gets petty and accidentally blurts out, “well you didn’t seem to have a problem with me last night when you were calling me sir and making yourself squirt in the shower.” 

the image of you crumbled on the tile floor, shower head blasting in your hand as you ripped it away from your overstimulated clit was still seared into his brain. tits all soapy, yet he could still make out the faint letters of the possessive scrawling he'd paid you to scribble with marker the week before reading daddy’s girl

“…how do you know that?” you uttered and he suddenly realised that he’d actually said those words out loud and not just thought them as usual, “ransom, how the fuck do you know that?”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mohntilyet]

same anon, do not apologize about taking an excuse to rant because it was a very enjoyable read 👍 especially because i share similar frustration regarding the lack of lore on rivain and even less lore on the lords as a faction. My very first rook was a lord and it was honestly kind of a miserable playthrough roleplaying wise 😭 i think i only got like five faction related dialogue options throughout the ENTIRE game!!! That combined with rook acting like they dont know anything about their own factions or even their own nation was absolutely maddening… anyway whoops sorry for my own little rant

RIGHT.... you do not have to apologise either anon i am right there with you. the map surrounding rivain being so nothing is just insult to injury when 1) like you said, almost no dialogue choices, 2) jack all content because i was running around for 70 hours hoping to find decor related to them/finding none because there IS none/absolutely nothing in the lighthouse being customised as a result and 3) they have decided the only thing you get to say about being a lord is repeating their catchphrase like this shit is scooby doo

the art book also has some pages on the lords that gave me mixed feelings lol spread that i scanned under the cut

i really thought that they would lean into the "mix and match" thing especially because even when i was designing my rook pre release, i was trying to incorporate elements of this! i was looking at duncan's armor to try and patch together something that reflected rivain! but when the game comes out it's just. orientalist. and there's a bull on my crotch. even though the art book discusses this idea of the lords having patchwork armor that they've stolen or put together because they're so diverse. there's a few designs in here that i would have loved to see in the game with the more piratey longcoats and hats, and if they were going to draw inspiration i wish they'd looked more at mauritius and south india (kerala, tamil nadu) instead of . i'm not actually sure what the fuck they were doing here. my first thought when i saw the jewelry and design in game had been indigenous south american? but ofc the longer i looked the more i leaned away from that initial judgement and the more i got confused, and what little we know of rivain is obviously inspired by south asia (asha's maiden name being bahadur, bharv, hari, etc. but there's also mateo?) so i think it is the tried and true method white people looove to do where they mishmash cultures into one place and then get defensive when poc say "we aren't interchangable like that"

visually i think veilguard is so so successful in most cases with that consideration of shape language, colors, etc (though sometimes i think it goes too far. let the crows wear black again) but rivain/the lords is one of the weaker ones because i wish there was something specifically rivaini that tied it all together. like if dragons are found here (presumably. taash has a reputation as a dragon hunter. they would need to hunt dragons in rivain) then maybe scale armor as an identifier. or if rivain is known for pearl farming then it features more in their armor. or if the climate is hotter, so the fabric they wear would be linen and would actually cover more of their skin to avoid sunburn! or if they wear lots of blue, is that because they're a producer of that dye? just worldbuilding things like this completely ignored to make their main thing 'lots of gold and it should be revealing' and be weirdly racist/orientalist in the process.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Party

Words: 846

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Lily and James were at their breaking point. Sirius and Remus had been pining for months, and neither was willing to do anything about it because ‘their friendship was more important’. They were so close to locking them in a broom closet overnight or forging a love letter. Lily almost had Remus’ handwriting nailed.

But Pete had a plan.

“Mistletoe?” Lily scoffed.

“Charmed mistletoe. If two people are under it at the same time, they can’t move until they kiss.” Pete looked far too smug for someone with so much soil in his hair.

“So we just… trap them under it, watch them kiss and bam?” James asked. “Seems too simple.”

“That’s the beauty of it, Prongs! What can go wrong?” Pete grinned at them.

The answer to that question would become evident at the Gryffindor Christmas Party the following evening, where Sirius and Remus were pointedly avoiding each other and most people had spotted the mistletoe and were avoiding that spot like the plague.

Until that was, Remus and Benjy found themselves stuck under the mistletoe while crossing the room.

Remus looked around. Nobody seemed to have spotted them yet. He looked back at Benjy smiling apologetically.

“Sorry Benj, I can’t.” He said quietly, shaking his head.

“No?” Benjy asked, then his face lit up with realisation, his eyes shifting towards Sirius, who was talking animatedly to Marlene. “Oh… still, Remus?” He said sympathetically.

“Oh. Well. No, it’s not…”

Lily grabbed James’ arm across the room. “Oh no! Remus and Benjy. Remus and Benjy!” She hissed. "Abort!"

James’ head snapped around and he groaned. “Oh shit. How did we not foresee this? Wait, why are they just standing there? How long have they been there?”

“About five minutes.” Pete appeared on James’ other side. “Why haven’t they kissed? It’s not like they’ve never kissed before.”

“Maybe that’s why. Too weird?” Lily said. “Where’s Sirius?”

“Talking to Marlene,” James said quietly. “Doesn’t seem to have noticed yet.”

The three of them looked across the common room like they were watching a tennis match before eventually Marlene nudged Sirius and nodded towards Remus and Benjy under the mistletoe.

“The fuck?” Sirius muttered, meeting Remus’ panicked gaze.

“Remus,” Benjy said again. “It’s not like it would be the first time.”

“That was different.” Remus groaned.

“How?” Benjy crossed his arms across his chest. “How exactly was that different? Are you ashamed to kiss me when people can see?”

Remus dragged his hand through his hair. “Merlin, no it’s not that. I swear it’s not.”

“Then what?” He snapped. “What exactly is different?”

“I was single then,” Remus said quietly. “I’m not now.”

“Did he just…” Lily wasn’t sure if she’d heard/read his lips correctly.

“He’s seeing someone?” James looked over at Sirius. “I wonder if Sirius knows. Maybe that’s why they’re avoiding each other.” Lily giggled and Pete looked exasperated.

“You’re seeing someone?” Benjy asked. “Who? Wait!” He looked over to where Sirius was glaring at him. “Really?” Remus nodded. “Finally!”

“Yeah, it’s still fairly new, we haven’t told anyone yet.” Remus could feel his cheeks heating up. “But it’s... pretty fucking great.”

“Aw, Remus, I’m chuffed for you, mate.” Benjy leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Remus’ cheek to break the enchantment. It also spurred Sirius to storm across the room towards them and glower at Benjy. “I’m not trying to steal your bloke, Black. Just didn’t fancy being trapped there all night. Plus, I really need a piss.” He shrugged. “Congrats, by the way.”

He patted Sirius on the shoulder and slipped past both of them, away to the bathroom.

Remus shook his head, amused at his boyfriend. “So much for ‘light and breezy, nobody will suspect a thing’, Sirius.”

“His lips were on your face, Moons. His lips. Your face!” Sirius pouted as Remus pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him.

“Yes, for less than a second, to escape some mistletoe. Which, conveniently, we seem to be stuck under now.” Remus said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Sirius looked up and laughed, “Well, I suppose people are about to find out about us then, aren't they? You ready for that?”

Remus nodded, “Absolutely. And then we'll have a word with Lily, James and Pete for conveniently putting this mistletoe here.”

“Oh, of course.” Sirius smiled at him, slowly leaning in, not taking his eyes off Remus’.

A collective gasp echoed around the common room within seconds of their lips touching. Remus’ hands were lost in Sirius’ hair, while Sirius clung to him. Kissing in front of people felt so strange after working so hard to keep their relationship private, but Sirius found himself smiling into the kiss and pulling Remus even closer.

They broke apart, breathless and grinning.

“Right,” Remus said, looking over at James, Lily and Pete who looked far too pleased with themselves and holding out a hand to Sirius, while the other clutched his wand, “Together?”

“Yes, I think so.” Sirius laced their fingers together and they left the mistletoe behind, to gently hex their friends.

[laswells-ashtray]

AleRudy angst slash hurt/comfort?

Contrary to popular belief Rudy is fine with fire. He won't go out of his way to avoid it, he isn't irrationally scared of stovetops like people think and he is not going to miss Chavez's yearly bonfire that he throws just because of one little incident.

It became a yearly tradition by accident but it's an excuse for them all to get drunk and spend some time with each other. All of them attend and by the end of the night, some of the older soldiers drag the drunken younger ones home. Alejandro got plastered once and once only, if he had expected Rudy's sympathies then he was mistaken. Alejandro slept on the bathroom floor and Rudy ate chips while watching reality TV in their bed. After that, the both of them decided to go a little easier on the drinking.

The flames are high and blasting heat over them all with crackling noises filling the air. He's sweating but he'll be damned if he takes his hoodie off, he won't even roll up the sleeves. Alejandro has already rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and Rudy wants to stare, he truly does but he can't take his eyes off of the bonfire.

He's standing far closer to it than anyone expected him to get, inching nearer to the flames as they howl at the crowd. He isn't sure why he's approaching the scorching heat, his palms are sweaty and his eyes are narrowed against the waves of warmth that wash over him. Maybe he's trying to prove something to them all. Maybe he's proving something to himself.

The wind pushes the flames closer to him as he steps forward and for a split second, he considers reaching out to meet it in the middle. To try and grab at something inanimate only to see if it'll grip him tightly in return. His hand twitches as he considers it, how close can he get before the skin blisters and bubbles.

He wants to see how quickly the tips of his fingers will redden as searing flames engulf his hand in a blazing inferno.

A large hand promptly yanks his arm and he stumbles back into Alejandro's chest, narrowly avoiding slamming his head back to meet the colonel's nose.

"Whatever you're thinking, put an end to it now." Alejandro whispers in his ear, pulling them away from the bonfire and away from the crowd of vaqueros. No one notices, most of them are already incredibly tipsy and a few steps down from completely plastered.

"I wasn't-" It irritates him endlessly whenever Alejandro cuts him off. if he'd just allow Rudy to explain then he could articulate that he wasn't actually going to do anything.

"Rudy. We should leave, Chavez is more than capable of watching the fire."

He shakes his head, he doesn't want to leave. He's fine. He's a grown man, almost getting burnt alive that one time truly isn't all that important in the long run.

"No, we should stay. We haven't been here for that long."

Alejandro sighs and Rudy sees him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from arguing back with him.

"I'm fine." Neither of them quite believe it, he only says it to fill the silence.

"I almost lose you to a fire and then you spend tonight looking ready to jump back into it whenever I turn my back. You aren't fine."

"I'm not going to jump into the bonfire." He mutters under his breath as if the idea is so hard to fathom.

Alejandro's tone is clipped when he responds, frustration evident on the taller man's face. "Obviously not but I'm not sure you can be trusted to stand anywhere near it."

It hurts, just a little. The idea that he can't be trusted because Alejandro expects him to let himself burn. He'd never do it. But sometimes he wondered.

He doesn't get the chance to answer before he's tugged into a tight hold, held against the colonel's chest with Ale's chin resting on his shoulder. They're both ridiculously warm and it's slightly uncomfortable but he makes no effort to escape,

"I almost watched you burn once before, don't make me do it again., mi amor."

"I won't."

"Rodolfo-"

"I won't, colonel. You're stuck with me yet again."

"Rodolfo, I've never been stuck with you."

[dragonsbluee]

I see your gay uncles of the straw hats Jimbrook and raise you old, gay, heartbroken, pirate captians who find a loving, romantic relationship in each other as they watch over a group of chaotic youngsters.

Because Brook and Yorki had a heartbreaking goodbye, and Brook spent 50 years mourning, but now he has a second chance. He wasn't expecting anything, but then, lo and behold! A handsome, kind, capable fish man enters stage right, and Brook is smitten. Here is someone who understands the grief of losing a captian and partner, then having to take their place to hold the crew together, but ultimately watching thier crew fall apart or suffer due to factors outside their control.

For Jimbei the last few years have been a whirlwind of chaos. He was looking forward to a new adventure full of chaos of his own making and choices. Now, enter stage left, this fantastic, enigmatic, adorable skeleton (and he's a musician!), who is a wonderful presence on a ship full of younger pirates. Jimbei never really moved on from the loss of the Sun Pirates, and hasn't had time to mourn all the friends he's lost in the past few years. But now he finds companionship and comfort in Brook. Someone who doesn't expect him to move on, let's him reminisce, but keeps him from getting stuck in his mourning. He's never thought of romance seriously before, but now he finds himself wanting.

The two meet in the middle, center stage on a ship of dreams as they forge a new one together. They still keep and work towards their individual dreams but find pieces of each other in them. Brook looks forward to the day he can introduce Laboon to Jimbei, and Jimbei has promised to translate the whale's words for Brook. Jimbei will see freedom for his people and finds motivation in every new song Brook writes and story he tells. Together, they find peace, calm, and rest. They find excitement, companionship, and a harbour in the other after years of storms.

[tempestmothstorm]

Ok since Monika still has her admin powers in the side stories you think she could just discover them accidentally or use them without realizing

Anyways au where Monika and friends discover her admin powers but dont know about the wider context of what it means. So they just go around thinking Monika has magic and try practicing with a bunch of silly fun shenanigans because they figure it’s some chosen one bloodline stuff and not like. A product of their reality being a constricted digital science experiment.

This au will not end well

[randomnameless]

Genuine question, not trying to start a fight, why do you get so upset about gods and churches being presented in a negative light in fictional works?

No pbs!

I guess it's a mix of being too common, too forced and having, in general, the cast use common tropish arguments to fight /defeat them.

I rant a lot about this game, but take TS where we have three sort of factions opposing each other, and each are supposed to suck. Who is the faction who never receives any "positive traits" or "pet the dog" moment?

The game force fed us a scene where an Aesfroti soldier - when Aesfrost is depicted as a highly militarised nation with a cult of personality towards their current ruler, that invaded the protag's home and slaughtered several civilians and NPCs in the process - say goodbye to his wife and kids before going to "war" to defend his land against, well, the protags who are invading it to kill their warmongering leader.

As force-fed as this scene was, it, I believe at least, tried to tell us that even the Aesfrosti who pillaged villages and killed their inhabitants are humans, and care about their loved ones, sure it's corny, but it's all about not deshumanising any party.

When we attack Hyzante? Niet, zilch, nothing. No similar scene where random soldiers, or NPCs, worry about what is going on and if they're going to die when their wall has been breached. They just, don't exist in this context.

I think the cherry on the cake is the Golden Route scene, where, apparently, nationalists Aesfrosti decide to turn back against their ultra charismatic leader because, uh, he "lied" when he declared the war and used a false pretense, so the soldiers and people who were butchering babies and invading a city where people were preparing a marriage apparently now have morals and rebel.

There's no similar scene for Hyzante when the cast reveals that the teachings of their Goddess were made up and salt wasn't exclusively given to them by divine intervention, because rock salt exists everywhere. Sure it would be a bit weird and forced that people thinking they're chosen ones and looking down on everyone else suddenly, hm, don't break down when their entire system of belief is shattered, but hey, if the Aesfrostian Gregor can have morals after washing his hands of all this Glenbrookian blood, why shouldn't religious npc #55 not make the same heel face turn?

And then, we have the slavery/human experimentation plot - in general, when TS tries to give nuance, they more or less explain/justify why something that "sucks" is done, it's basically Silvio's character.

Aesfrost' Gustadolph manages to push his "freedom" mentality because his land is a harsh place where people are desperate to survive, salt smuggling is reprehensible, but it's the only way to give some to the ones who cannot afford it. Of course is everyone is free, no one is because, as Gustadolph puts it, they're basically free to die for his ambitions.

Hyzante? Follows a racist creed where Rozellians have to pay for some great sin, and are slaved away in a lake to recover salt until they die. It's, later, justified by Hyzante wanting to keep its salt monopoly else they don't have anything, and wanting to curb down the Rozelle people because they know about the exitence of rock salt (and I guess getting free workers to harvest salt from the lake + having state enemies make his own population docile/not willing to rebel ?).

And then, we have the human experimentations, that are just done for, uhh, Idore's lol. When Hyzante is known for its "advanced medicine" and we could have had the usual dilemna of, idk, having those humans experimentations used to develop this medicine that is reknown in the world (idk, sacrificing a Rozellian to save someone else's life?) - it's not the angle the devs picked. Rozellians are sacrificed to power up an idol, Idore wants to control the world through his idol and soft power (compared to Gustadolph's hard power) and manipulates his people (just like Gustadolph) to do so.

The two are very similar, but who is the final boss? Complete with a transformation in an eldritch monster? The war-mongering imperialist or the jaded old man who is leading de facto a religion?

Hopefully there's the entire "human experimentations for no other purpose than the lols" to settle them apart.

---

I recently watched Dune, and even if I have some issues with the adaptation, the Bene Gesserit isn't portrayed as "comically" evil-er than the Harkonen Empire, I reckon the comparison isn't adequate, because Dune is multi book series when I'm mostly talking about video games.

Symphonia's church of Martel is a font for the Big Bad (tm) to put in motion his nefarious plans, and yet, through the game, we see how random clergymen use their, uh, religious buildings to help people around. Ultimately Martel herself is reincarnated through plot device and tells the big bad to stop being an ass and the story is less about "church and gods evil" but "big bad distorts Martel/church's teachings and role for his plans because he has a tragic backstory"

(but then Symphonia ends with the biggest whitewashing from every Tales I've played for its big bad so I'll stop talking about it because otherwise I'm going to be salty).

Abyss' church is more or less the same thing - the Church is supposed to help people deal with the fact their verse has "predestination stones" where the future is already written, and in the course of the game, we see how it has several factions and one opposes the group (who has the pope as a NPC!) - but it's not a story about "gods bad church BaD".

I remember playing Suikoden Tierkreis a long time ago, and while the game seemed to go through familiar "church bad gods bad" route and we end with defeating a god-like entity... I pretty much loved the twist that, in a game that relied on alternate dimensions/universe, the god-like entity was actually the protag if he made different choices!

In those games, if you fight a religious body and someone pretending to be a God or what not - it's not because people fight against an eldritch creature who wants world domination and to erase puny insects, or is the reason why everything goes wrong, but because, at the end, the conflict/fight is ultimately caused by someone, generally a human or at least a non "god like" entity, wanting to destroy the world.

I don't remember if FE was my first JRPG series or not, but I always liked the idea that if the world is doomed in those games and the heroes must prevent said doom, it's not because a god-like being wants to destroy the world, but because people, humans/randoms are the most shitty ones out there.

---

As for the "tropes" often used to deride fictional churchs and religious people, well, I will again point to TS - which did a splendid job in the Benedict Route where you smash Hyzante after allying with Aesfrost.

There's one battle where out protags diss Hyzantese because they worship a goddess and have no free will, listening to Her teachings and Her says (the traditional "religious people have no free will and listen to their churches who tell them how to think!") - which is immediately countered by one of those Hyzantese characters asking Serenor if he's not the same, but instead of blindly listening to a Goddess, blindly follows Benedict. And it ends with the final chapter title referencing automatons/puppets : who is that title talking about ? The fake "idol" Idore created, or the fake "king" Benedict created?

Anyways, the usual "religions people have no free will because their church/religion tells them how to think" trope reeks of r/atheism and the double standard - bar in this route of TS, but I guess, in TS itself in the Roland route! - is never called out, blindly following a charismatic leader is okay, as long as charismatic leader isn't religious?

Regardless of my IRL thoughts about religion, usually those tropes are presented as a "gotcha!" when they are... not at all, but the games/books leave it at that and we're supposed to roll with it.

I'd say it's lazy writing or, as we saw in Naruto, a quick way to end a story without having to dwelve in characters and their motivations : "you're a god/alien/other being and you're bad, so let us do what we want!" - end of the story.

Hopefully some fillers and to an extent, Boruto gave her more meat bar being the 11 hour villain we had to defeat quick and who manipulated the previous sad'n'lonely antagonists - but it still felt rich from Naruto, known for his famous "talk no jutsu" and trying to understand people he's fighting against, to drop the ball with Kaguya, calling her pure malice and ending with some "let us live the way we want" to wrap up the plot so he can wrestle with his boyfriend later on.

In the end, we often end up with "religion bad bcs the big bad manipulates people through it", as if those mangas/animes/vg never have other examples of charismatic people not using religion to manipulate their randoms/people or "gods bad they should let humans do what they want" when we've read/seen/played through various, uh, really fucked-up shit humans did - but on their own! and ultimately, but it's more in fandom spaces, with have Projection 101.

TLDR : church/religion/gods are too often used in those works as the ultimate scapegoat to either wrap up a story in a rushed ending or to pretend to have "nuance" but still have a common enemy where all the "nuanced" characters can grow/be whitewashed and side together against that "common enemy".

Just like in all things I guess, I prefer when something isn't painted as purely negative and all of the positive traits are erased because there is a need for a perfect scapegoat - sure, bring out too much "nuance" and writing/designing a game/manga/anime becomes harder because there's no "clear cut" antagonist, and yet, the one who always gets fucked in this scenario is the religious/church side.

Want a generic stock villain who will destroy the world so the heroes have to fight against them? Just create a "religion" in your setting, and have the big bad either hell bent on resurrecting Chtullu to destroy the world because Chtullu BaD, or have them be the most corrupt piece of shit who manipulate everything in the shadows, so the rest of the world, even the ones who slaughter others bcs they feel like they must start a war, can be whitewashed at the end.

I mean, there's a saying about diverting attention from a fire by starting a bigger one near, or a trope of "aliens made them do it" : who cares if Madara started a continental war and targeted a village full of random civilians he swore to protect because he lost the elections? Did y'know he was manipulated by a woman, I mean, an eldritch thing created by a woman, regarded as a God, who ultimately wanted to get out of her fridge to kill everyone?

Roland must get over his hatred for Aesfrost for barging in his kindgom and killing hundred of his people while they were preparing for a wedding, because hey, Idore is evil and plans on ruling the world through his sham religion!

I'll forever be salty at TS for not giving Kamsell the occasion to rise against Idore, or not even have minor NPCs get the same treatment as Sycras suddenly going all "u lied to me gustadolph so i won't listen to u anymore + sad goodbyes to my wife'n'kids".

Extremism of all kinds can lead to wars/tragedy/fucked up shit - Sure I don't want to get my History lessons in video game medium when I play lol, but what I really don't like is how it feels like depicting "they're extremists because they're religious" feels like the default/easy answer : want a bunch of brainwashed people the heroes must fight against and can't talk no justu their way out of this fight/will fight without looking too BaD? Depict those people as "misguided" members of a corrupt church/believers of a religion, no one will givea fig. If they are instead supporters of a charismatic leader who throws them through the meatgrinder to further their goals? Well, there's no automatic loyalty so either you have to show/depict it on screen, else it can be challenged at key points to demonstrate how those people - who follow the charismatic leader - aren't completely "mindlessly listening to their leader" or how their leader "isn't that bad after all".

[sp1resong]

no one can know about the weird gay thing i have going on with kms jokes

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Hawke: You knew my grandparents? Elthina: I dedicated your mother into the Chantry. She was a beautiful baby. Your grandmother was a very proper lady, but she was beside herself that day. And your mother put a fist in my eye.

Suddenly I like Leandra a little bit more. I mean, who hasn't wanted to put a fist in Elthina's eye at some point during da2?

"Excuse me, Grand Cleric Elthina, a templar used your official seal to get away with kidnapping and murdering qunari." "Ah, well, the Maker will figure it out. The Chantry is a gentle mother who knows her children learn best when allowed to learn themselves."

"Hey, Elthina, the templars are abusing mages. They're forcing tranquility onto them for minor things, which is against the law, and it's only getting worse. Can't you do something?" "It's not my place to decide who is right, but the Maker will eventually."

"Damn it, Elthina, my mother and several other women were murdered by an actually dangerous blood mage because the templars and city guard couldn't be bothered to do their jobs!" "Ah, I'm sorry, that's so unfortunate. May your mother find a place at the Maker's side."

"ELTHINA the qunari beheaded the Viscount and now Meredith has taken complete control over Kirkwall and is looking for any excuse to annul the entire Circle with her Andraste complex, will you PLEASE do something to stop her before more people die??" "Hmmm, I see, but no. The Maker's time isn't man's time, we have no need to rush."

"Listen, you useless moron, you need to leave Kirkwall because shit's about to go down." "No, I will not leave. Who would hurt me? I'm Grand Cleric."

Even as a baby, Leandra knew this lady was an awful person. This is why you got blown up, Elthina.

[face-breaker]

fighting the urge to mix a lil' honey badger into sett —