#and when i have a lot to say i don't like using the tags on someone else's post

[astonmartinii]

day six: not so home for christmas | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem reader

oscar and y/n are having their first christmas in monaco because of a snow storm, unfortunately this also means they're now hosting most of the grid as well.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 137,094 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: thanks a lot snow storm :( i guess it's our first ever christmas here in monaco

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user1: yall global warming might just be real

user2: you're only just realising it now ?

charles_leclerc: you kids and your complaining - a white christmas in monaco, what more could you want?

yourusername: a christmas at home with our families?

charles_leclerc: families? when you're in your adopted father-in-law's home city, i'd watch your tone if i were you

oscarpiastri: if you think of your kids as often as you say then you should be worried that your aussie son is going to FREEZE to death :(

charles_leclerc: if it's the bbq you crave, you can still do that?

yourusername: it's snowing? and he is NOT bringing our bbq inside

charles_leclerc: okay jeez, not much christmas spirit here i see

oscarpiastri: we miss our families, sue us

user3: wait... if they couldn't get out of nice... who else couldn't

user4: the storm kicked in like a day ago right?

user5: based on instagram activity, my guess is that max, lando, ollie (idk why he was in monaco anyway), kimi (i think he's attached to ollie), alex (and lily) and george

user6: i know it would never happen but wouldn't it be so cute if we got a grid christmas dinner

yourusername: please don't give them any ideas

oscarpiastri: i only just got rid of them 😩

landonorris: so, just out of interest, is y/n still free to maybe wrap my presents for me?

yourusername: do i look like the christmas fairy to you?

landonorris: well i know for a fact that oscar's ass was not wrapping those presents

oscarpiastri: well y/n actually likes doing things for me soooooo

landonorris: PLEASE Y/N I'LL HAVE TO RESORT TO USING TIN FOIL

yourusername: tin foil... please you are a 25 year old man

landonorris: does it look like i'm a man who has sellotape in his house?

yourusername: no.

user7: y/n is like a full time mum to a load of men all older than her

user8: she better get ready to cook for them at christmas because none of these men can cook for themselves

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 692,108 others

tagged: yourusername & landonorris

oscarpiastri: i'm not sure how this went from our lonely christmas away from both of our families to babysitting half of the grid but what the hell, sure

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user10: i personally blame all of you for this

user11: and what??? i'm so excited

user12: i hope they post nothing more just to spite your ass

charles_leclerc: i’m kinda offended no one thought of coming to mine :/

maxverstappen1: you’re shit at cooking

charles_leclerc: how would you know?

maxverstappen1: i saw it in your vlog

charles_leclerc: you watch my vlogs???

maxverstappen1: NO?

yourusername: okay queens stop flirting and get back to your stations in the kitchen

charles_leclerc: can we flirt there?

yourusername: if you're still peeling - knock yourselves out

user13: y/n basically confirming lestappen? wow christmas DID come early this year

user14: the real question is why she would let those menaces in the kitchen?

yourusername: i have seen how much these people eat, i need help even from the useless

yourusername: also if they want certain dishes from home they have to help

maxverstappen1: i am CORING AS MANY APPLES AS I CAN I PROMISE THE APPLE BEIGNETS WILL BE WORTH IT

oscarpiastri: i know they will be, y/n is making them

maxverstappen1: okay buddy, i don't see you helping

oscarpiastri: i am keeping everyone else in line, that's a full time job as well

user15: who made the youngest couple in charge of these fools?

user16: a comedic genius

yourusername: they're annoying but i'll deal with them for you

oscarpiastri: you make such sacrifices for me, i love you

yourusername: i love you more

alexalbon: we're really not that bad you guys are being dramatic

yourusername: george walked up to our mantle piece, pointed at my baby picture and said "ugly. my condolences" ?

alexalbon: that's george ? he's mean to everyone

yourusername: HE'S IN THAT BABY'S HOUSE

olliebearman

liked by charles_leclerc, estebanocon and 418,934 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri & kimiantonelli

olliebearman: first christmas with my big brother :))))

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user17: yall be on oscar about him holding onto the leclerc family joke but the real enemy is ollie

olliebearman: i think it's cute

olliebearman: and it's NOT a joke

user18: you know what? yeah i'd also keep going with the joke i need to get in that leclerc family

olliebearman: the real catch here is y/n she's going to teach me to crochet :)

yourusername: we can make little bear mans !!!

user19: the grid dad stuff was cringey... but grid brother well that's hitting like crack i fear

charles_leclerc: grid dads are cringey ??? count your days

user19: sorry?

charles_leclerc: i (and my family) will NOT tolerate sebastian vettel slander. not now not EVER

fernandoalo_oficial: and me?

charles_leclerc: i couldn't give a fuck about you old man

fernandoalo_oficial: excuse me

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll have you know i am just as much oscar's father as you are

charles_leclerc: and how have you come to that OBVIOUSLY WRONG conclusion

fernandoalo_oficial: WELL i don't know maybe his REAL grid dad is actually mark webber who i have a well documented homoerotic relationship with and therefore oscar and most importantly Y/N are my children

charles_leclerc: what a load of bullshit

charles_leclerc: if grid children were based on homoerotic tension then i'd be father to all of the red bull juniors and max would have custody of the FDA

maxverstappen1: well....

pepemarti: hi !!!

dinobeganovic: hey.....

yourusername: what happened to the original plot of the movie

user20: i think the cabin fever is getting to them

lilymunhe: no they're like this all of the time it's exhausting

yourusername: tell me about it

olliebearman: but not me :(

yourusername: no we love you

oscarpiastri: you are the least annoying one

olliebearman: omg thank you :3

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 163,207 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc & landonorris

yourusername: not so home for christmas but with family nonetheless

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user22: what was the dress code here?

landonorris: what we had left? all the dry cleaners are closed because of the storm

yourusername: you take ALL of your clothes to the dry cleaners?

landonorris: why wouldn't i do that...

yourusername: yk what, whatever !

user23: omg of course leo was there as well

yourusername: we only invited charles for him

charles_leclerc: excuse me?

landonorris: he was invited ????

oscarpiastri: well he was staying in monaco anyway and you guys all invoked your squatters rights in my house so what was one more

landonorris: i am not squatting? my ass is already big enough as it is

yourusername: i know your ass is big because YOU'RE ALWAYS SAT ON IT

oscarpiastri: god i love you

yourusername: i love you even more

oscarpiastri: nuh uh not possible

yourusername: i love you so much i'm not even that angry about half of the grid crashing our christmas

oscarpiastri: i love you so much that i personally barged a child out of the way to get you your eras tour merch

yourusername: i do love my merch.... but not as much as i love you

oscarpiastri: you're so romantic

georgerussell63: right that's it, i am SICK of you people pretending you are not enjoying our presence

yourusername: did i or did i not say family ???

oscarpiastri: george i'd appreciate if you didn't talk to y/n this way

maxverstappen1: yeah back the fuck off

georgerussell63: why is max here?

maxverstappen1: ummmm y/n busted her ass to make apple beignets for me so i had some netherlands with me at christmas so i would die for her. i am somwhat fond of oscar as well

maxverstappen1: so fuck with them, you fuck with me

maxverstappen1: and you seem to like doing that recently

yourusername: awwww thanks max!

oscarpiastri: we are fond of you too buddy

georgerussell63: how did i lose this?

user24: max out here getting wags on his side

maxverstappen1: that's my ma

maxverstappen1: wait that makes my homoerotic tension with charles incest

maxverstappen1: that's my home girl

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, jackdoohan and 1,094,577 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: y/n absolutely smashed our makeshift grid christmas and she said she'll accept thanks in qualifying tows or easy passes on track 👍

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user25: oh they want me dead

user26: i would do questionable things to get a slice of that cake

user27: drop the recipe please xxx

yourusername: oh babe i be following the tiktoks like the rest of yall - i'll repost it

user28: woman of the people

yourusername: babe i don't really remember saying those exact words...

oscarpiastri: PLEASE ! they don't say no to you now you've filled their stomachs

landonorris: he's not wrong

maxverstappen1: you're in my will now

charles_leclerc: you're now my favourite daughter in law

yourusername: i'm your only daughter in law?

charles_leclerc: idk kimi and ollie are pretty attached with their weird tension

landonorris: like father like son

charles_leclerc: huh?

landonorris: huh?

oscarpiastri: ^^ see !!!! y/n please !!!

yourusername: fine.

yourusername: thank you all for coming, i hope you enjoyed dinner and your time with us. i loved spending time with you all but if you wish, i will be accepting thanks in the form of qualifying tows and easy passes for oscar or pornstar martinis from any hospitality

yourusername: happy?

oscarpiastri: yes

oscarpiastri: YOU HEARD THE WOMAN GUYS

maxverstappen1: oh i love y/n but i'd rather put you in the wall than let that ugly orange car past without a fight

georgerussell63: @fia i told yall

yourusername: are you ever gonna give that up ?

georgerussell63: no? and i KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO SAT ME NEXT TO HIM AT DINNER

yourusername: you'll never prove it :P

user29: oscar is such a sassy man

yourusername: he gets it from his momma

oscarpiastri: and you :)

yourusername: i will say your ability to watch my reality tv with you is a big factor in how much i love you

landonorris: is that why oscar once woke me up the night before a race by shouting "get her ass lisa" ???

oscarpiastri: we watch real housewives together on facetime :)

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,130,672 others

tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc: i made the right choice in son and most importantly daughter in law

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user31: okay the cinnamon buns have thrown me over the edge now

user32: i NEED to know who asked for them

alexalbon: guilty 💅 and they slapped thanks y/m

oscarpiastri: we've been dating for years? like when i was still in f3?

charles_leclerc: semantics

oscarpiastri: no i met and charmed y/n all on my own thank you very much

charles_leclerc: because she saw the future and the potential of our prosperous family !!!

oscarpiastri: at this point, whatever you wanna hear old man

charles_leclerc: relegated below ollie

olliebearman: score !!!

user33: oh these people are never letting this joke die are they

user34: i think we're stuck with it

charles_leclerc: are you people sick of whimsy ???

charles_leclerc: i am ALLOWED to flex my son's amazing choice in women, especially a woman who will make me a swiss roll on demand

yourusername: he does have amazing taste

oscarpiastri: thank you :3

yourusername: as much as you guys were somewhat annoying, we had an amazing christmas xx

oscarpiastri: please do not bother us until march

charles_leclerc: fine. but we're still on for the double date in melbourne?

charles_leclerc: (maybe triple? idk ollie can just bring kimi)

kimiantonelli: score !!!

yourusername: we would love to !

oscarpiastri: i guess you could meet my actual family ?

charles_leclerc: not now oscar, let me enjoy chritmas with you all before you remind me of that

oscarpiastri: okay?

user35: y/n and oscar actually have the patience of saints because if these clowns crashed my christmas i'd be on the news

yourusername: any christmas is perfect with him

oscarpiastri: with y/n, i can get through even the most annoying people

user35: okay yall didn't have to flex on me that hard damn

fin.

note: here's day six! i'm not sure if you guys saw my update post but this series won't be done by christmas day but will stretch to NYE because unfortunately my cat has to be put down :( i've had him for nearly 19 years and it's really hard to think about him being gone so i'm just spending as much time as possible with him atm. anyway, i hope you enjoyed !! xx

[random2908]

I mean... OP is from Australia, I think? As are some of the other commenters? This isn't entirely about the US.

In America, the degree to which this is unadorned truth versus exaggeration depends what you're buying. I expect a sweatshirt to last at least five years of daily wear; however, I don't wash them unless they are visibly dirty or it's been, like, several months. I expect a t-shirt to last about 5 years in rotation where I might wear it once every 2 weeks and wash it regularly. My winter jacket was purchased 16 or 17 years ago (from a random store at the mall) and my fall jacket was purchased 8 years ago (from Kohl's, a mid-range department store), and although my winter jacket doesn't fit all that well anymore, neither jacket is nearing the end of its lifetime. I generally keep 2-4 pairs of jeans in rotation, washing them about monthly, and expect them to last about 3 years. My dad bought me two bed sets from Target (cheap department store) 20 years ago, and for a long time I just alternated between them; the fitted sheet on one of them tore after about 7 years and the other lasted 19 years. (Admittedly, I'm apparently really gentle with all of my possessions, because my electronics, furniture, etc also seem to last relatively long.)

So yeah, some stuff lasts. However.

My jeans that wear through in 3 years, first of all, would wear through in a couple months if I treated them like a child would--I know this with some certainty because I do occasionally tear them at work. Whereas when I was a child in the 80s/90s, my jeans lasted 1-2 years of running around and falling down. And some people have jeans from the 1970s that are still wearable. So yeah, my jeans don't wear out in a season, but they do last at most 1/2 as long, probably a lot less than that, compared to jeans of decades ago. And you can feel that the fabric is much thinner.

I remember in 1998, on a road trip, my mom bought me a t-shirt from a t-shirt stand, for $5, and the material felt completely different. Much softer, much thinner, than any of my other t-shirts. (I was 15, so I'd had a lot of time to learn what a t-shirt should feel like.) But it still said 100% cotton--it wasn't a different material, just a worse construction. These days, it's the other way around: I have exactly one t-shirt with the texture of the ones of my childhood, and all the rest feel like that one cheap shirt. And all but that one t-shirt has ripped on my belt buckle no matter how well I file down any sharp edges, because the shirts are so thin and flimsy. Sure, I usually wear these shirts for about 5-6 years until the holes are bad enough that they aren't presentable. The design has usually all the way worn off by then. But I was still wearing t-shirts from middle school when I was in grad school, and some of them had almost no degradation of the design (luckily when I was in middle school oversize t-shirts were in, so they fit properly when I was a young adult). Also, the t-shirts from my childhood, when they finally wore out when I was an adult, it was because the seams ripped. The t-shirts from my adulthood, when they wear out, it's because holes tear in the fabric itself.

So far I've been mostly talking about all-cotton clothing, except for the sweatshirts, and sometimes the jeans, which are a mix. The synthetic stuff falls apart a lot quicker. I have a dress that I've worn twice, that I washed once (careful of the instructions on the tag) and it's already pilling. Pilling means significant fabric loss, which means its days are number until it's ready to tear.

So yeah, a lot of generic clothing does last longer than people are saying--but some doesn't. And even so, the failure still happens a lot faster than it used to, and the failure points are in different places than they used to be.

I'm so pissed right now. I know that fabric has been declining in quality for a while but I just bought new pajamas from kmart and they are literally see through. Not just through one layer of fabric either; I can see through the leg, that is, through 2 layers of fabric. These aren't clothes. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have strained soup through cheesecloth thicker than these pants. These are men's flannel pajamas, the kind people wear in winter, and they are made if shittier thinner fabric than even the most bargain bin bullshit halloween costumes. This "flannel" feels like plastic and is thinner than a chux wipe. Why is this even for sale.

[axolotl4days]

Batfam au angst :) also leading into (platonic) yandere batfam

What if Jason wasn't the first kid to die :)

And what if Damian wasn't Bruce's only biological kid :)

Au idea I'm simple terms: what if Bruce had a daughter in his early years of batman, who went missing and dead, but then years later reappeared and was found again, Bruce and the others won't make the same mistake twice.

Author's note before reading: Please keep in mind I'm new to this fandom, so I don't know much about what's canon. I simply get creative ideas really easily and have decided to share them.

If anyone else likes this idea, feel free to rewrite or add onto the concept, if you do please tag me I'd love to see what others do with this concept

I'm picturing reader to be the same age as or potentially slightly younger than Damian, but no specific ages are mentioned

Damian POV:

It was a day like any other, awful, Damian had to go to school. He didn't hate school, just the people there, loud, annoying, nosy.

He went about his day the same as always, reading in class and working on his work, until suddenly the principle came to class abruptly saying they had a new student, which the teacher promptly assigned to sit next to Damian. Great.

The teacher also informed him that he would be the one to show this new student around. So Damian braced himself for the extra annoying questions about him and his family, after all that's what people always want to know.

But to his suprised? This girl didn't care about any of that, simply asking questions about the class and school. She didn't even ask if he was really a Wayne, she looked a bit suprised but it wasn't the usual suprise most people had, and she didn't ask him any questions about it so it didn't matter.

As he showed her around he found out that they had the same classes, he heard her sigh of relief, but when questioned she said she was glad because it ment she wouldn't be alone in any of her classes and she'd have someone to turn to.

As the day went on they would go to class and work on classwork, it seems his new classmate was a lot smarter than the rest of them and he didn't have to constantly help her with work.

At the end of the day he made a mental note of a new acquaintance.

Later that day

"Ah, Master Damian, welcome back. How was your day at school?" Alfred asked, greeting the young boy

"It was alright Pennyworth, we had a transfer student today, but she seemed to be quite intelligent unlike the rest of those peasants" Damian replied

"Oh? A transfer student? In the middle of the school year? How odd."

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior, but there wasn't anything out of the ordinary, her name is Y/n." Damian said, but after saying her name he noticed Alfred looked pale

"Pennyworth? Are you feeling ill? Do I need to inform father?" Damian asked

"No no, I'm quite alright, it's just, I... used to know someone with that name, so I was suprised to hear it. That's all." Alfred replied, but he still looked pale

"If you say so. I'm going to head to my room and work on schoolwork before it's time for patrol" Damian said, and he was gone without another word

Alfred's POV:

'Calm yourself Alfred. It's a normal name that anyone could have, besides, it's been 20 years. Even if it was her she wouldn't be part of the young masters class. Still... I should inform Master Bruce, incase he mentions this classmate' Alfred thinks to himself before heading to the batcave.

There he finds both Bruce and Tim, working on the computer, searching for sightings of criminal activity, recently rumors of a new villain with unknown powers had started to arise, so it was the batman's job to keep Gotham safe

"Ahem, apologies for interrupting, but I need to borrow Master Bruce for a moment" Alfred says

"Did something happen Alfred?" Bruce asks

"No, not necessarily, it's nothing serious but we need to talk" Alfred replies

Bruce gets up and follows Alfred out of the room

"What is it Alfred? You look like you've seen a ghost." Bruce states

"Apologies Sir, as I said, it's nothing serious, however Damian informed me of a new classmate at school today" Alfred starts

"In the middle of the year?" Bruce comments

"That's what I said, however that isn't the point, I simply wanted to let you know before hand, incase the young master mentions this classmate infront of you.." Alfred pauses

"That's it? Why would you need to inform me of that" Bruce asks confused

"Well you see. He said that her name was... Y/n" Alfred states, and Bruce becomes just as pale as he is

"I see.... did Damian tell you anything else about this.... classmate?" Bruce asks

"No, he did not. But simply stated he'd keep an eye out for anything suspicious." Alfred said

"I understand." Bruce said with a deep sigh

"Are you alright Master Bruce? I know it's been a long time but-"

"I'm fine Alfred. I just... I'm fine. I need to head back to work now, we still don't know what this new villain is capable of, or what they're after." Bruce says, turning away

"Alright sir, if you insist. Please take care of yourself."

Alfred says, but he knows how Bruce is

The patrol went on as normal, and so did school. Nothing particularly interesting happened it was a week like any other, Damian and y/n would work on schoolwork together during breaks, since y/n joined late she had a lot of work to catch up on but she didn't have much trouble and Damian helped her when she did. The two had even become friends, turns out they had a lot in common, and some classmates tried to joke about how they were like siblings, but the two didn't mind. The jokes did make Damian aware of how... familiar y/n looked. He pondered the idea of her being a child from a one night stand, but the timelines didn't match up so he brushed the thought away, thinking it was a coincidence that she looked so much like Bruce. But nothing out of the ordinary happened of note, not until one fateful patrol where Damian made a discovery

Y/n POV:

Y/n didn't know where to go after waking up again, it was clear so many things have changed, and her dad taught her well. She needed more information before she made any decisions.

Unfortunately this ment she had no place to stay. After all, she couldn't go to an orphanage, she wasn't an orphan and she didn't have any documents or a story on where she came from. She knew better than to go to the police, what would she even say to them? So here she was. Sitting under a bridge hoping she won't get sick. But she was strong, she'd do what she'd have to in order to understand the situation better. Even if that means sleeping under a bridge like a troll, even if it means only eating the food provided by the school, even if it means-

"Hello there. Are you alright?" A voice asked making her jump

She turns to see, some sort of vigilante. She had heard in passing about how her dad Batman wasn't the only vigilante in Gotham anymore, so she figured it was one of them

"Oh um, I'm alright" she replied, she hadn't planned to meet any of them, she knew she might meet batman, which she kind of hoped for because then she could get some answers, but this was new territory this was- wait a minute why does he kind of look like Damian?

"Are you sure? Your sitting underneath a bridge at night, kids shouldn't be out here like this you could get hurt. Or worse. Why aren't you with your parents?" The vigilante (Damian) said, after recognizing his classmate, assessing the situation

"It's... complicated" y/n replies, before wondering how much she should tell him "I... can't really talk about it, but I can't go back home.. not yet at least, and I don't have anywhere else to go, so I've just been here" she states, hoping she didn't say to much

The vigilante just stays there for a moment, not saying anything, and she wonders if she said to much or if he thinks she's a criminal

"I see. In any case, you shouldn't be out here alone, the streets of Gotham aren't safe, however if you insist on staying out here may I suggest somewhere that isn't so easily spotted? You wouldn't want to be attacked. I know a few places that are safer than.. this" The vigilante says offering a hand

"Oh, uhm" y/n thinks for a moment, weighing her options "I'll take you up on that offer, it's not great down here" y/n replies, taking his hand

The two go to a more remote, slightly cleaner area

"Here we are, even if it's temporary this would be a better place for a shelter than where you were before. I don't know what's going on, but if you need assistance, im willing to help" the vigilante replies

"Thank you, you've really been more than enough help and I appreciate it a lot. If I need anything il let you know....."

"... Robin. My name is Robin." Robin says, noticing her pause

"Robin... thank you for the help, good luck with the rest of your patrol" y/n says

"Of course, you be careful now, always keep an eye out." Robin says, before leaving

'Phew.... he's gone. That was definitely him, and he definitely recognized me. Now what. He didn't say anything so they're definitely still doing the secret identity thing. I guess I'll just have to play it cool and hope he doesn't say anything at school. If any of the teachers find out I'm definitely gonna get investigated and then my whole plan will be thrown out the window.' Y/n thinks to herself 'Maybe this is a good thing, if he's Robin, it's likely that dad's still Batman too, which means I might run into him. What if he doesn't recognized me? What if he does recognize me?? What if- what if he didn't miss me.... no, no! This is dad, of course he missed me but it's been... so long... what do I do if he doesn't want me back...' y/n starts to worry about before she falls to the floor and starts to cry

Which, unbeknownst to her, Damian saw, he doesn't know why she's crying or why it makes him feel so... protective but he knows somethings up, so he goes off and reports what he knows to Batman

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

Aaaaand cliffhanger! Mwahahahaha

I would have kept going, and I know exactly what's coming next, but I've been typing for awhile and I have no idea how long this post is, and I don't want it to be too long

So I'm stopping it there,

This wasn't supposed to be this much but my creative brain decided to run with this idea, so there's gonna be a part 2 soon

Also I've decided to call this au

Batman Dead Daughter Au

Because.... idk what else to call it and if I'm gonna make a part 2 and potentially more depending on how this goes, I'm gonna need something to refer to it with.

As I said before, I'm extremely new to the batman stuff

Pretty much all of my knowledge comes from youtube and tumblr, so bare with me if things are out of character

I've also never written fanfiction before, it's always just been in my head, so the writing is probably a bit funny

Yes I'm a writer in the making but I haven't actually gotten to the writing part

And fanfiction is a bit different

Hope yall like the concept tho

Again, feel free to write your own version of this if you want to, just tag me so I can read it too lol

[nightmare-of-homophobes]

You Know You're My Favourite - Avis Amberg X gp!reader

Words: 5,4k (more or less).

Summary: Avis searches for her favourite girl after a fight.

Warnings: porn without plot; NSFW; sub!Avis, Dom!reader; oral (both receiving); penetration (Avis receiving); swearing; use of titles; weird/unconventional power play; light praise kink; breeding kink; mommy kink; rough sex; flirts a lot with BDSM; tits play; implied previous conversations of boundaries; implied internal homophobia; implied unilateral love.

Tag list (those who commented or reblogged on the tag post): @alittlewitchyone @emilynissangtr @greek-freak101 @live-laugh-love-lupone @multixfan @thoroughly--confused @likealayka @thegoddamnfeels @kenzie-floops @amethyst-bitch @acciosoftbroom @missquints @mrsines

Special thanks to the lovely @live-laugh-love-lupone who kindly beta read this for me <3

English isn't my native language, so bare me! I didn't watch more than three episodes of Hollywood and hadn't written gp for a while, so I'm sorry if Avis is too out of character and if the sex is awkward 🥲. This story is based on an ask I received some time ago (I hope this finds you, anon!). I wanted to try something different by mixing the request - sub!Avis - with what I took from the character and from the fanfics I’ve read about her - the power play and titles.

Hope you enjoy it! Xoxo!

(Also, I wrote a good part of this while listening to “Red Wine Supernova” and “Good Luck, Babe!”, kind of mixing the songs to set the vibes to the characters.)

***

It was late and your shift was almost ending. It had been a boring day with no clients for you so you got pretty occupied with pumping gas and cleaning cars all afternoon. 

You were just about to go to the bathroom to change yourself out of your uniform when you heard a car approaching. You got irritated by that, but that slipped off your mind as soon as you recognized the car.

Putting on your best smile, you approached it.

– What a lovely surprise… – you said leaning into the window to look at the ginger woman. You didn't miss how she seemed distressed. – How can I help you, Mrs. Amberg?

– You're taking me to Dreamland.. – she demanded, her tone letting you know she wasn't in the mood for your playfulness.

You nodded quietly.

– I just need to let Ernie know you're taking me out. – you said and went back into the gas stations to do it, returning as quick as you could and entering the car.

She drove off the station in silence, the only sounds between you being the roar of the motor and the background sounds that driving through Hollywood involved. You could practically feel the tension irradiating from her body, so you put a hand on her thigh, slowly drawing patterns close to her knee - not wanting to drive her attention to you at all, but to calm her down a little. It seemed to work since she relaxed a bit.

– Tough day, mama? – you dared to break the silence.

– I don't want to talk about it. – she said, leaving no room for other attempts. 

– What do you want to talk about, then? 

She sighed loudly and you felt bad for pushing her, but she answered anyway:

– What about your career? Have you got any offers lately?

You hummed in confirmation. For some reason, Avis always liked to learn about her lovers and she loved to discover how you wanted to be a professional photographer. You deep down wished she would, one day, pose to you.

– Yeah, I'm covering an event this weekend. – you told her excitedly.

– That's great, what is it? – you told her the name of the event, but it wasn't one from her social circle so she didn't know it. – … But I know you'll do amazing, baby, you always do.

She met your eyes for the first time in the night, a small proud smile on her lips. That made your chest warm. It was good to know you had someone to make proud.

– You're just saying it because you know I'm a sucker for being told I'm doing a good job. – you accused her, earning a chuckle from her.

– You caught me. 

You fell into a very much lighter silence as she drove into the night. You weren't recognising the route she was taking, so you imagined it was somewhere she hadn't taken you yet. When she parked in front of an expensive looking hotel, you were sure you hadn't been there before. Not that she didn't take you to fine places, she did, but that was… Too much, in your opinion.

The parking valets opened the doors of the car for you both and you jumped out of it, feeling a little bit conscious of your clothes. Maybe you should've made Avis wait for you to change it when you were still in the gas station but now it was too late to regret.

Letting the ginger woman lead the way inside the hotel and into an elevator, you were able to relax again when the doors closed and you started to go up to your floor. But your relaxed state didn’t last too long since Avis was needier that night.

Being pressed against one of the walls of the elevator, your lips crashed against her red painted ones, her mouth as demanding as she always liked to portray herself. The kiss was messy and harsh, mirroring Avis mood and making you know exactly how she needed to be treated that night.

Holding onto her waist, you pulled her body flushed against yours, your tongue darting out to try its way into her mouth. As soon as she let it slip past her lips, you started to slowly dismantle her demanding attitude. Avis usually liked to have control over everything happening in her encounters, needing to guide what and how things would go. She tried to do it with you in your first encounters, but she was quick to discover that when it came to you, you simply wouldn't bend over anyone’s power without fighting for it - and that she honestly enjoyed having someone to tell her what to do sometimes.

You could still taste the wine on her tongue, which was another clear sign that something distressful happened and she really needed you to make her forget whatever it was that upset her. You could already piece together what probably happened: one more fight with the powerful Mr. Amberg. You didn't even know the man or had a hint of how he looked, but you despised him the same way. How could a man be married to a woman like Avis and not try to satisfy her?

The elevator’s door rang while opening and you quickly disentangled ourselves. She laughed at you.

– It's fine, doll. I made sure to rent a room on a floor that was empty. – she said, already leaving the elevator.

You laughed at yourself and followed her down the corridor. Your eyes didn't resist falling to her ass, admiring how rounded it was as you watched how her hips swayed as she walked. You couldn't wait to put your hands on it.

As she unlocked the door and pulled you inside the room, you met her halfway, crashing your lips together again as you closed the door with your foot before slamming her against it.

– Hmm, did you miss me that much? – she asked, putting her arms around your neck.

You hid your face on her neck, kissing and sucking it softly.

– No… I'm actually had been very busy fucking some pussies around. – you teased her, knowing how she could get jealous when at your work.

It worked because you heard how she grumply groaned and turned her face to the other side when you tried to kiss her on the cheek.

– Oh, mama, you let me get into your head so easily. – you poked her side. – You know you're my favourite client.

Though you meant those words, they left you with a bitter taste on the tongue. You had a strict rule of trying to not get attached to your regular clients, but sometimes you would get yourself wondering how it would be to be something else than just a prostitute to Avis. Something more.

But of course you would never speak those desires out loud. No. She was married and you were both women. And, in the end, she only saw you as a passing fun. Someone she could get distracted with when her true life got tough.

– You're distracted today… – she called your attention, making you snap out of your thoughts. She frowned. – What's in your head?

You let a peck on her lips, diverting her attention.

– Nothing at all. – you brushed off the topic. Letting your hands fall to her butt, you gave it a playful squeeze. – Now… What about going to prepare yourself for me? – you asked against her lips before leaning to her ear again. – I'm so hungry, mama…

You heard how her breath hitched and felt how her hands buried themselves into your hair. Leaning back to look at her, you saw how her eyes had darkened. You always loved to watch her eyes. Especially when she was under you trying so hard to keep them open while cumming around your cock.

Leaving your embrace, Avis went to the double doors in one of the walls of the living room (that you only noticed once she approached because you were too busy paying attention to her before), opened it and disappeared inside of it. The bed was probably inside those doors. You heard another one being opened before the shower was turned on.

She always liked to dress up on encounters like that, but she liked to be extra clean and use her fanciest gowns and lingerie for you. She was sold for compliments and you suspected that was a thing for her.

Trying to busy yourself, you poured down two drinks, swallowing yours in one go.

You hadn't to wait too long before you heard heels clicking on the floor and arms flew around you to embrace your body tightly.

– Do you want a drink? – you asked softly, enjoying how she cupped your breasts and kissed the back of your neck.

– Right now I just want to drink whatever comes out of you. – she answered, sending shivers down your spine.

– I can arrange that. – turning on her arms, you started to undo your belt, feeling how she was getting impatient. 

Drinking the shot of whiskey you had poured for her, you swallowed a little before bringing your lips closer to hers. She quickly accepted it, opening her mouth so you could spill the drink into it. Of course that wasn't what she meant, but she wouldn't deny you.

Kissing down her cheek and her jaw, you buried your face back on her neck, your hands found the knot of her robe to untie it. She was smelling so good you wanted to wrap yourself around her and never leave.

– I like this colour on you… – you muttered against her skin, hearing her whimper softly. – But unfortunately I need this off.

Letting it slide off her shoulders, it was your turn to lose your breath.

– Did you like it, baby? – she asked with a sultry smile and tone, faking innocence. She knew you liked it. Actually, she could feel just how much you liked it.

There, standing confidently in front of you, she was wearing a red corset that hugged her curves perfectly, but that wasn’t all. Your eyes ranked up her legs, admiring the black long socks attached to something underneath the corset - probably a, also black, garter belt. Finally, your eyes met what you considered to be the cherry on top: lace black panties that left so little for your imagination.

You ran your fingers over the details of the corset, your mind already picturing how it would be to take it out of her later. The rest would stay in place, it wouldn’t bother you.

– I loved it. – you said, playing with her garters. – And because of it I’ll let you pick what we’re doing first. What do you want baby to do? – you asked, pulling her hips closer so one of your knees was placed between her legs.

Under your intent gaze, Avis squirmed. She enjoyed your attention so much. Starting to undo the buttons of your white shirt, she asked:

– You mentioned being hungry, right? 

You laughed and helped her to get yourself undressed. Once you got rid of your shirt, tie and shorts, your hands returned to her hips, starting to push her in the direction of the couch, you made her sit down. She made mention of untying the garters but you pulled her hands off it harshly.

– None of it, I didn't ask you to take it off. – you reprimanded her while kneeling on the floor.

– I don't need your permission… – she said under her breath and lifted her hips towards you.

One of your eyebrows shot up as you looked at her. So she was naughty tonight? How bad.

– Are you looking to be punished, mama? – you asked severely. – You know how long I can keep you on edge.

She seemed to fight her pride and own words before looking away and muttering:

– I'm sorry.

– That's better. – you tapped the side of her thigh, satisfied. – Now where were we…

You spread her legs, starting to kiss the insides of her legs and massaging her feet while doing it. She loved receiving a good massage. 

– Yes… – she sighed, opening her legs even more, if it was possible.

Her skin was smelling so sweet and her socks brushing against your bare skin were so soft that you were feeling yourself getting hard faster than usual. Avis would certainly drive you mad anyday.

– Baby, please… – she whined, her hips bucking in the air, asking to be touched. – Please, Mama's so hot…

Complying with her requests, you brought your lips higher, your fingers cleverly finding her panties and pushing them to the side. You licked from her entrance to her clit, feeling how she clenched and how the foot you were still holding curled into your hand.

Bringing your hands to her hips, you pulled her further to the edge of the couch, placing her legs over your shoulders.

– Look at this, mama.  – you breathed against her core, letting soft kisses all over her mound and playfully sucking at her bundle of nerves, feeling her squirm and moan shakily. – Your pink hole is so wet for me already, I bet I could slip inside right now without any trouble… – you fully slid your index finger into her fluffy folds as if to prove your point to her. – See?

– God… – she groaned and you could feel how her hands were clutching at the couch on your sides. She could feel your finger searching for her weak spot, scratching her walls sweetly in its path.

You were steadily letting kitten licks on her clit, your finger caressing her point over and over again, reducing her to a pathetic moaning mess. When you started to suck her, her hands flew to your head, holding you impossibly closer.

– Fuck! Yes! – she rolled her hips against your mouth, starting to ride your face in chase of her orgasm.

You let her do it while adding another finger inside her, scissoring and opening her so you could replace it with your tongue later. 

– Hmm… Mama, you’re taking me so well. – you complimented her, your voice sending vibrations against her clit, making her grind harder against you. 

Her moans were louder with each thrust of your fingers, every rub of her clit against your tongue making her legs twitch and her hole clench around your fingers. You knew she was so close and you were loving it. Satisfied with the stretching, you finally slipped your tongue inside her, tasting her flavor straight from the source. 

Her grip on your hair tightened, her thighs creating a fluffy - and strong - cage as they closed around your head. A loud, obscene moan left her lips, her whole body losing control as she reached her orgasm.

– Ah, baby! Fuck! Fuck! – she cried out.

Her walls were tightening so hard around your tongue it was practically expelling you from inside her and you couldn’t help but whimper at that. Staying still, you let her use your mouth to ride her orgasm.

You caressed her thighs all the while, soothing her and waiting for her to calm down. It didn’t take her long before you could finally free yourself from her legs, resting your head on her thigh as you had done before. You looked up at her with what you knew were your loving eyes.

– Everything alright, mama? – you asked as she panted, her chest rising and falling heavily. 

All you received from her was a soft groan, her eyes shut tightly. Getting up from the floor, you sat on her lap, drawing her attention back to you. 

– I’m fine. – she said dreamingly, opening her eyes to meet yours. 

– That’s good… – you said and leaned to kiss her.

She welcomed your mouth with her tongue, more than willing to taste herself on yours, moaning at it.

– Can you taste how sweet you are, mama? – you mumbled against her lips, making sure to press your tongue down at hers, wanting her to commit her own taste to her memory.

The kiss was heated and messy and you didn’t even notice when you started to roll your hips on hers, brushing your covered erection against her corset, missing the feeling of her chubby belly. You liked the corset, it was pretty, but you liked even more to have her breasts and tummy on display.

– Stand up, let me take this thing from you. – you panted against her lips, getting off her lap to sit beside her.

She did it and you pulled her down on your lap, moaning at the feeling of her ass hugging your dick perfectly. She rubbed her ass over you playfully, earning a quick slap on her right buttcheek, which made her quiet down.

Starting to open her corset, you took the opportunity to also undo her complex updo. She usually didn’t let you do it, since it took time to put her hair back in place, but you didn’t think she was planning going anywhere or returning home that night. As you finished with the corset and brushed her hair with your fingers, admiring its redness, you made no effort to resist reaching around her body and taking her big boobies into your hands, loving their weight and softness. The sigh she let out told you how relieved she was to get rid of the corset.

– Feeling better, Mama? – you asked while playing with her breasts, squeezing them and rubbing her nipples to get them hard.

She only hummed in answer, her ass not staying still on your lap, teasing you as much as you were teasing her. You kissed your way to the back of her neck, biting down hard on the skin there, making her squirm and whimper above you, her hands reaching up to hold yours in place. You pinched her nipples and flicked it on your fingers, making her breath get elaborated again.

– Baby, please! – she finally gave up, understanding you wouldn’t take any action if she didn’t beg. – Please, I need you… – she tried to push one of your hands down to her pussy but you prevented her from doing so. – Please, I need you inside me so fucking bad!

Reaching to her neck instead of between her legs, you held it and squeezed it weakly, pulling her towards you until her head was on your shoulder.

– You know what to do if you need my cock that much. – you said against her ear, enjoying how her desperate eyes found yours. Such beautiful eyes.

You smirk down at her and bite her ear softly.

Sliding down from your lap, she got on her knees before you, her hands fumbling with your tight underwear while letting mouth-opened kisses on your erection through the cloth. She looked so sexy doing that.

– Aren’t you forgetting anything, mama? – you asked and she looked up at you confused. You gestured for her to keep eye contact and she nodded.

Letting her take control of that small moment, you leaned back on the couch helping her to take off your underwear by raising your hips. She bit her lips at the sight of your cock on display.

– See how excited I get everytime you come to see me, mama? – you asked, running a finger on her lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth, watching how she accepted it, sucking it into her mouth.

Bringing her closer by her chin, you let her replace your fingers with your cock, sighing heavily at the velvety and warm sensation of her mouth around you.

– That's it, mama… – you hold her head, not leading her, just letting it rest there. – Take it all inside.

She obeyed, bit by bit taking all your length into her mouth, not having any trouble. The idea of her being so used to doing that kind of turned you on. Between the two of you, you might have been the prostitute, but she was definitely the slut.

You moaned as she bobbed her head up and down a few times before returning to your head, sliding her tongue against your slit.

– Fuck, mama... – you bite your lower lip, your free hand going to your tits to play with them. – You know exactly what to do to make me lose control.

You groaned when she sucked the head, her cheeks hollowing as she did and her eyes searching your reactions through heavy lids and battling of lashes. That woman would certainly kill you one day.

Letting her work her magic on your cock, you took that moment to just enjoy the pleasure she was giving you, focusing on your sensations as soft groans and moans kept falling from your lips, your chest heavy and heart racing as you watched how she switched between sucking your cock and teasing the slit at the tip or sucking your balls while jerking you, all the while never breaking eye contact.

– You're doing so fucking good… – you panted as your release started building, your dick throbbing into her mouth. You almost came when, in one go, she put all your length deep inside her mouth, the tip reaching the back of her throat. – Fuck!

You held her head in place, closing your eyes at the intensity of the wave of pleasure that teased you, unaware of how she also closed her eyes, moaning around you and sending another wave through you. She always found it so hot when you were rough with her and she could feel her arousal sliding down her thighs, her pussy aching to be filled again as she made her best to not gag around you. You released your grip on her.

– Keep going, I'm so close. – you gasped.

With that, she doubled her efforts, your hips bucking to meet her meet her mouth halfway, your cock brushing the back of her throat at every damn thrust. A strain of swears were falling from your lips and, when you finally couldn't help it anymore, your hand hooked into her hair and you harshly set the rhythm you wanted, making her choke sometimes while supporting herself on your thighs, trying to relax her jaw the most as she let you fuck her mouth. She knew her throat would be on fire the next day but she didn't care. She would never stop you from doing what you wanted to her. 

She was exactly where she wanted, receiving exactly what she needed.

With a final rough thrust up, you held her still, cock buried impossibly deep inside her as she fought the urge to push you off her so she could breathe. When she couldn't take it anymore, she patted your thighs and you let her go while growling through your orgasm, your seed spilling from her throat to her face since she couldn't hold your dick down her throat for so long. 

Both of you were breathing heavily for totally different reasons.

– Sorry. – you apologized as soon as you got enough air to do it.

Her head was resting on your hip, her hair in all directions. Her face was flushed and painted with your cum while her lips were swollen and her cheeks had stains of tears. She was a fucking mess.

– It's okay, doll… – she muttered raspy, her chest rising and falling in quick puffs as she still was trying to calm herself down. – You know I like it.

Gentler than you were before, you ran your hand through her hair, putting it a bit back in place, not because you were finished with her, but because you wanted to bring her some tenderness after such roughness. You waited until she was ready to keep going.

Watching her standing up, you stood too, catching her lips into your in a soft, caring kiss.

– You know we can stop at any moment, right? – you reminded her in a whisper.

– I want to continue. – she reassured you. You nodded.

Taking her by the hand, you led her to those double doors, entering it to find your way to the bed. It was very large and fit the luxury of the place.

– Get on the bed. I'm gonna get another drink. – you said while caressing her back.

As she moved to do so, you returned to the other room, pouring you a drink while you still felt cloudy from your previous orgasm. Something strong like whisky would definitely help, you thought to yourself. Yet, it wasn't the whisky at all that snapped you from your current state of mind, but the vision of your tie lying in a corner of the room. An idea popping into your head.

Drinking the liquid in one go, you walked over and picked up the tie, returning to Avis immediately.

You weren't waiting to find her on her fours on the bed, waiting for you with her ass high in the air and face buried in the sheets. All the while she was touching herself, two fingers deep inside her drenched pussy.

That pissed you off.

– I didn't say you could touch yourself! – you exclaimed as you reached over and pulled her fingers out of her harshly. –You’re really looking for that punishment, lady!

You turned her over so you could pin her down, you face hovering over hers as you angrily asked:

–Now choose… – you lifted the tie. – Hands or eyes?

She didn't miss a beat before answering:

– Eyes. – she could bear not being able to see, but being restrained was a torture for her.

You grimaced at her answer, an unsatisfied expression on your face. 

– You don't deserve it. – you said. – Mama has been acting very bad.

You flipped her over again, using your weight to hold her still as she fought you and your decision to tie her hands instead. As you finished, you leaned and growled on her ear: 

– You will learn how to please your baby!

Getting off her, you helped her to return to her previous position: ass on the air and face buried in the sheets. Aligning your dick with her entrance, you entered at once, knowing that she was more than prepared after so much teasing. She moaned unashamed at that, ass moving to meet your hips halfway.

– Yesss… – the word lingered on her tongue, turning into a hissing as you slapped her ass once more.

Settling a steady rhythm of thrusts, you watched, hypnotized, how her pussy took your cock so well, as it was designed especially for you. A soft and warm place for your dick to rest and empty itself.

Oh, that was another great idea. You would adore to cum inside Avis again and again until she was filled and carrying your seed deep inside her.

Keeping to fuck her in that slow and steady rhythm, you knew exactly what you were doing to her: making her lose her mind again. It wouldn't take long until she was pathetically begging again, her brain melting from having what she wanted from the start but it not being enough to satisfy her.

And you were right, it didn't take long.

Once she realised you had no intention in changing your pace, she cried out muffled:

– Baby, please… – she tried to fuck herself against you, but reaceived another harsh slap. – Mama is so sorry, please… She won't do that again… Please, please, please… Mama will do anything baby wants her to do, promise… – her whimpers keep going, but you already have heard the words you wanted to hear so you leaned into her again, one hand getting tangled in her hair again.

– Anything, mama? – you asked and, to provoke her, you gave a particularly rough thrust. Just the way she liked.

– Yes! Fuck, yes, please… – she cried.

Your free hand winding its way through her body until it finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, enjoying how she gasped and moaned even louder.

– Do you know what I would love, mama? – you kept whispering against her ear. – To have you carrying my babies… – a soft “yes” came as an answer and you closed your eyes. – Wouldn't it be lovely, mama? Me buried deep inside you? Feeling you so good? Spilling all my seed so mama could take it in her perfect body for me? It would make me so happy, mama… 

Hearing her confirm every question you made her was an otherworldly experience, but the words that set you wild were those who came from her lips in sequence of that:

– Please, love, give me your babies… I'll carry your babies, please…

Pushing her face against the mattress harder and holding onto her tied hands, you started slamming into her, the sounds of your skins meeting each other extremely obscene. You were panting and whimpering, lost in Avis body as you finally gave her what she was so pleased to beg for, her moans fully turning into screams of pleasure now, her hands twitching and trying desperately to free themselves from the tie while her toes curled and she bit the sheets to muffle her sounds.

Every thrust of yours sent her higher on her from the force you were using to fuck her, almost as if trying to forge your bodies together, so it was a good thing you were keeping a good hold on her, otherwise her head would be banging against the headboard.

When she started clenching painfully around your cock, you knew she was close to her orgasm. You were too. Flipping your positions, you laid on bed and pulled her above you, untying her hands so she could support herself to ride you. 

– Yes! Yes! Gimme your babies, yes! – she kept exclaiming as she bounced hard up and down the entirety of your length, seeming to want as bad as you to bury your cock deep inside her. – Fuck, yes, mama feels so good! Mama is gonna cum!

You helped her to bounce, supporting her hips and meeting them with yours halfway as well, wanting to make her cum again. 

Sitting down on the bed, you held her hips down, burying yourself inside her while helping her to grind on you, one of your hands searching for her clit to send her over the edge. You were feeling goosebumps all over your body and it was becoming harder to fight your orgasm.

– Cum for me, mama, please. – you asked and, lowering your head to her chest, you caught one of her lips into your feverish mouth, sucking it hungrily.

That was enough and, with her orgasm finally washing over her, she stopped her movements, her entire body tensing up.  Being squeezed like that, you didn't even try to resist your own orgasm, spilling yourself inside her body as a guttural moan escaped from the back of your throat.

Both of you stayed still, practically breathing each other's air as you panted with your foreheads pressed together. For a long moment, none of you dared to move, both sensible to touch and still feeling the aftershocks of your blissful orgasms. Finally, you turned her again on the bed and slipped out of her, both of you moaning from the loss of the sensation.

You watched how your seed spilled out of her mistreated hole once you were out. You weren't preoccupied with coming inside her. She was past her fertile age and you were infertile, so there was no risk at all.

Laying beside her, you welcomed her into your arms.

– Feeling better? – asked softly, running your fingers through her hair and kissing the top of her head, your eyes were feeling so heavy.

– Much better. – she said and yawned.

– Go to sleep. – you told her, knowing that all would end very soon.

Soon she would have to return to her husband and you to your clients. Soon she would pretend that all those nights with you were nothing more than usual fun, even though both of you know she had stopped seeking other prostitutes after finding you. Stopped seeking men.

And you, well, soon you would have to pretend that you didn't let her affect you. That you didn't let yourself hope that, one day, she would need more than just sex. And, certainly, that you didn't caught yourself thinking of her when fucking others or wishing she would accept what the nature of your encounters were saying about her.

– Good night, doll. – she said sleepily.

– Good night, Avis. – you answered, kissing her head once again.

You knew she would have already left you when you woke up the next morning.

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Comments are very appreciated because I'm a sucker for validation!

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

(DATV thoughts with spoilers ahead; i think my tags will keep it filtered but just in case it doesn't since i dont want this in the actual game tags)

i just... man. i don't have a well formulated thought for this yet (and its my PERSONAL OPINION and other people can feel as different as they want, this is not an attack) but it keeps bouncing around my head, so. i know the popular thing right now is coming up with in-universe justifications for The Pantry Almost-Kiss Scene in ways that imply Lucanis didn't mean it/it doesn't represent him as a person/he was Faking It.

and i just don't like any of them. they make me sad!!!!!! i don't like the idea that one of the like 4 romance scenes we get in this game is him Pretending in some way, even if he does at that point like Rook back at least somewhat. None of the justifications i've seen make me feel Better about that being the point where we declare him as a romantic interest, which is what it is in the game, functionally. It doesn't lock you in yet but that point IS where the game says "they will take your flirting more seriously now". I did those same scenes for Davrin, Emmrich, and Taash and this is the formula the game uses (the "interrupted almost-kiss/confession" happens for almost all of the companions).

so if the answer for Lucanis' is "actually he stopped because he Didn't like what he was doing/feel that way yet" or that he felt he had to pretend for Rook's sake... it's kind of a letdown you know? esspecially when it comes right after what seems like an actually authentic moment (dispelling his "perfectly gathered clouds of doom"). Because, at that point in the game from my/Rook's perspective, it was like he finally was reciprocating. It made me hope that he'd acknowledge whatever was between him & Rook more in future scenes, especially because you get so little else from him at any other point, in terms of flirting back/showing you he IS interested. like up to that point I felt kind of bad for continuing to flirt at him, when he'd just change the subject right after! if someone did that in real life i would take it as a hint to stop. This is pixels and not real people so I didn't but they have done "reluctant/fearful interest" better in other characters if that's truly what they were going for in this one.

so after finishing the romance and getting the rest of content... idk. I don't like saying "one of the major chunks of characterization we get needs to be Thrown Out Actually because he was Pretending". because it's not like he or Rook ever actually address it in game--you just don't get to talk about feelings until some dialogue choices only in the act 3 romance scene, and then his speech at endgame (not even a full conversation, so much as his personal declaration). like it takes until the VERY end of the game for him to say the thing about "he was afraid to want you", but that comes after you've already hooked up, even.

I think truly what annoys me is that it's a story choice that can only make sense in HINDSIGHT not AS PLAYING. Only once you have all the scenes can you say "this one is out of character" and then you either have to accept it as bad writing, or come up with some in-universe justification to explain it... and so far none of the in universe ones feel good to me. i wish they did because maybe then I'd be less annoyed, rip. but at the end of the day i think even if there was some intent there, it was a poor choice for his story arc, because it doesn't effectively convey anything... and the reason why we can project a lot of different explanations onto it is simply because it is never addressed again (and again, Lucanis Dellamorte is NOT A PERSON he is a CHARACTER used to further a story for you the player, and so the reasons I don't like this choice are story-level and not a dig at how real life people feel or act).

So yeah at the end of the day. that is simply not a narrative device I would ever personally use in this way on a player/reader. certain kinds of hindsight revelations have their place (see: what the devs tried to do with Varric though I also think that falls apart on close inspection, but at least it has justification in-universe), but for a romance it just makes me embarrassed for Rook. In a game where you don't have nearly as many back-and-forth conversations with characters and have to resort to eavesdropping on them talking to each other, it's sad that one of the like 5 times you actually get to talk to Lucanis one on one we're maybe supposed to believe he wasn't being authentic, and also that Rook can't respond to this ever. It would be different if it had any kind of follow up, imo. or honestly as i've said before i would rather it have been swapped out with something entirely different or where we get to talk about their feelings instead, before i get labeled as one of the "people mad he's not Zevran 2.0/a sexy latin sterotype".

But having to step back to player-level analysis versus in-character analysis when looking at his whole romance arc just feels sloppy. but i'd much rather stick to "bad writing" than "intentional character choice" in terms of how to interpret the scene I guess, at this point, for poor Rook's sake. and i know people disagree with when I've said that before bc as much as I love Mary Kirby in other areas, she has said many times that she doesn't like writing romance, and I think it really does show here. As much as I love Lucanis and the scraps we got I wish I didn't have to do so much filling-in-the-blanks on our own.

[thecultcrows]

Not quite what you're looking for (I'm not sure there IS a name for your specific trope), but two similar genres/tropes that come to mind that oftentimes play off of this are "Sympathy for the Machine" and "Xenofiction".

"Sympathy for the Machine" might not be the exact name (it's just how it was described to me), but it's when (typically humans) are more sympathetic to an "unfeeling" machine than they should realistically be. I'm sure there's a lot of different films like iRobot or Iron Giant that play into this, where one party (usually the robot) is trying to have peace despite their appearance/function. I've certainly seen this done with monsters too, and there probably is a trope name there as well.

"Xenofiction", on the other hand, isn't a trope but a genre in-and-of-itself. It refers to any story written from the perspective of a non-human character. This can be as basic as a story from the viewpoint of, say, an Elf in High Fantasy, or as abstract as asking "What if stars could feel?" There's also the more obvious anthropomorphic animal protagonist in here as well (e.g. Watership Down or Warrior Cats), and inbetween abstract and animal lies the monster protagonist, where you, again, oftentimes get the "Unrequited Terror" trope that you talked about.

Looking in these genres/tropes could get you more stories like the ones you like! I'm not that much of a reader so I don't have a lot of recommendations, but it could help you narrow down your search in the absence of people using your tag. You might also have some luck finding some sort of cliche about it and filtering for that, though what name it would be under, I wouldn't know.

Unrequited Terror- A Trope Proposal

There is a particular dynamic in stories which I enjoy greatly but does not seem to have a specific word or phrase to describe it. At least not that I am aware of.

It is the situation in which one party is terrified of the other, while the object of that fear means no harm and only wants to prove themselves trustworthy, to put the fearful party at ease.

A real world example may be considered to be the socialization of feral kittens, where the animals need time and patience and exposure to learn that the large and terrifying humans are actually kind and trustworthy.

There are many more variable arrangements that crop up in fiction, due to misunderstandings of people's motivations due to circumstances, appearances, power levels, etcetera. This sort of situation crops up frequently in stories, and I have a great time spectating the slow development of understanding and trust, but I don't have a word to call it, or a tag to filter for.

So I propose: Unrequited Terror, to reflect the imbalance in the understanding of the situation by the frightened party and the friendly one.

Though if people know of any alternate names for this dynamic I would love to hear them.

[starlightomatic]

I clicked on my christmas discourse tag and found the following post, which I'd responded to at the time. I no longer like my old response, but cannot reblog it again as I was blocked like OP promised, so instead I'll respond here. I did not waterboard the post as my intention isn't ridicule, so I've dunked it in some green elixir instead.

I think OP is missing several things.

Firstly, their premise is... bad. It completely elides the power dynamics in a Christianormative society between Christians/cultural Christians and members of minority religions.

Secondly, people being pressured or shamed for not celebrating Christmas (whether that's snide comments and disrespect, or expectations of performing Christmas at work, eg in retail), is a real thing, whereas "non-Christians being shamed for celebrating" is... not (unless OP is speaking in an intracommunal Jewish context, but I assume they are not). So we're starting out with a strawman out the gate.

Thirdly, I think it really misunderstands posts like this, whose thesis is not "people who celebrate Christmas in a secular manner are wrong and bad" but rather "please stop using 'Christmas is secular' as a means to erase its origins and pressure us about it."

And also "there is a core of this that is Christian that does not need to be an issue for secular celebrators, but is an issue for many Jews."

I understand that a lot of people are challenged by that second implication so I will attempt to frame it a little more. I am not saying that a person who celebrates only the cultural aspects of Christmas is engaging in theological activities without their own knowledge. What I am saying is that Christianity comes with a set of connotations and associations for many Jews, namely our history of persecution by Christians, as well as some deep theological incompatibilities, and from the perspective of many Jews, Christmas is not really separable from this relationship, and we don't have any particular motive to separate it.

It is not that I am attempting to assign a religious identity to every person who puts up a Christmas tree; rather, that the discussion among Jews about whether to celebrate Christmas occurs in relationship to our history not only with Christianity but with our value of keeping our culture going by not assimilating. For various reasons, Christmas specifically has become an avatar in this that other holidays like Halloween largely have not.

In light of the Christian history of violent attempts to convert us (and many other peoples across the globe), and centuries of violent and oppressive treatment as punishment for our refusal to become Christian, putting any kind of pressure on us to participate in Christian celebrations come off very badly.

Which means that the fourth thing that OP missed was that "it's bad when it gets forced on people" was not an afterthought or "bad-faith response" but rather the entire thesis of the posts they're upset about. The entire point.

So to recap: No one is trying to say that people who celebrate only the non-religious aspects of Christmas are wrong, or bad, or don't exist. If this is the takeaway it is a failure of communication. There are many secular Jews who celebrate Jewish holidays in ways that align with their secularism, so this isn't a foreign concept to us.

More under the cut:

As well, there are Jews who celebrate Christmas, but the majority of them do so because they were raised in, or are currently part of, multi-cultural homes where another family member has brought Christmas to the home -- rather than because Christmas is universal.

Now, OP did not explicitly say they are equating Christmas being secular with Christmas being universal, but they implied it in their last line. This, actually, is the main issue with their post. Because whether or not Christmas is secular actually seems to be a red herring, the question at hand is whether it's universal. They are implying that maybe it is, if 80% of the non-Christian world celebrates it. The idea here is to eschew the claim that Christmas is associated with any particular culture; no, it's not a Christian holiday, it's a humanity holiday! It's for everyone! Stop being a Grinch.

And this is why the project to separate it from Christianity becomes relevant again: It's no longer fashionable to say that everyone should be Christian, so let's instead put that idea in sheep's clothing and substitute Christmas instead. It's the same thing, but now it looks innocent.

And, wait a minute, is it even true that 80% of the non-Christian world celebrates Christmas?

I clicked through the link OP provided, and found that, first of all, it only applies to the US.

And, second of all, the number for Jews is only 32%.

I clicked through to the source on that, and it's the classic: Pew's 2013 "Portrait of Jewish Americans." I found the relevant data:

And noticed a pretty big discrepancy between those in intermarriages and those not. It turns out, only 7% of Jews who are married to other Jews have a Christmas tree in their home. Let's be clear: This post is not a judgment in any direction on the choices of who to marry or whether to put a tree in your house. Rather: I am attempting to complicate "80% of non-Christians celebrate Christmas" with the data that only 7% of households with two Jewish spouses are doing so. Which... implies that American Jews, on the whole, do not see Christmas as universal.

And what about that 29% of unmarried Jews?

Well...

25% of Jewish American adults have a non-Jewish parent. We don't know what percentage of them grew up with a Christmas tree in the house but our closest approximation is the data about Jews with non-Jewish spouses (even though both sets of data are from 2013 so we're talking about different generations), so let's assume it was 71%. That would mean 18% of Jewish adults grew up with a non-Jewish parent and a Christmas tree in the house. Which accounts for the majority of that 29%. Of the remaining 11%, we can imagine that some proportion of them are living with non-Jews in a context other than marriage (eg in a relationship and living together, roommates, etc).

What we can conclude is this: Most Jews who celebrate Christmas do so with a non-Jewish family member. Thus, I believe that the opinion that Christmas is universal is one that is not held by the vast majority of Jews. Which means the OP's 80% statistic does not serve to prove its universality.

It is of course possible that I am reading in a connection between secular and universal that OP genuinely didn't intend, and their 80% statistic is truly only about showing that the cultural aspects are adoptable by non-Christians. If so, that is better, but I still don't think the statistic is doing what they think it is. Different religious groups have different considerations as well as different relationships with Christianity, and may not see engagement with Christianity as theologically and historically problematic the way many Jews do. That is to say: it doesn't mean Christmas isn't Christian.

[inert-displacement]

Hey! Just wanted to. I guess speak on behalf of everyone. Something I am definitely in a position to do.

First, absolutely without a doubt, your word should be final when it comes to your body. Only you know what you want, and no-one else has the authority or the right to tell you what to do with it.

I think people might just be a little. Confused? I guess? Coz like you said, you don't take sexual satisfaction from gaining weight or maintaining a heavier weight. In itself, completely fine - gaining definitely isn't for everyone - but you do run a gaining blog. Using gaining tags. And post in a very pro-gaining way a lot of the time. And it kinda feels like you snap between being very pro- and very anti-gaining...suddenly. And often. Which can be a bit disorienting from an outside perspective.

If you dislike being skinny, also perfectly fine - but if you don't like gaining, it strikes people who do as quite an unusual avenue by which to address disliking being skinny.

To speak personally, it sounds like you might be experiencing some kind of body dysmorphia - not gender dysphoria, which sounds similar but is very different - where you dislike how you perceive yourself physically. It sounds like you're addressing that in a very intuitive and sensible way: changing how your body looks. But if you don't like how your body looks now either, it might be worth just chatting with someone with some professional experience about addressing it, coz it might run deeper than what your body looks like.

If you do like how your body looks now though, you just don't want to be involved in gaining: brilliant! Being heavier doesn't have to be a kinky thing: it's a kinky thing for us, but it's also just a completely neutral fact about a person.

What can happen, and I've seen happen before, is people can enter the gaining scene because they enjoy being a little heavier in a completely non-sexual way, but the people around them in their everyday lives are like. Vehemently against it. So they find communities online that support them. But the thing is, there's a middle ground between people who are totally anti-fat and. Y'know. Fetishists. It's what we talk about when we talk about the body positivity movement! If you're healthy and happy, it isn't for anyone else to make you feel bad about how you look. And there's a thriving online space for that as well! Hell, a lot of us are kind of part-and-parcel members in a non-sexual context.

I would say, in either case, the online gaining community might not be for you. We totally support whatever decision you choose to make, but if gaining fundamentally isn't your thing, we're ill-suited to help you get what you want from your body or environment.

Let me rephrase something. I completely love the idea of getting bigger and fatter. Makes me aroused every single time. But the actual eating part I can’t get aroused by like others can.

I enjoy getting bigger than what I was and at time it is very intoxicating and erotic. But being a cheerleader I’ve learned to become very vain with how I look because the culture I’ve been apart of is just very self deprecating.

I do enjoy this community it’s very lovely i just tend to get very down on myself sometimes and often very ashamed of myself.

Because I live in the south anything that’s sexually deviant is shameful. And I feel that this fetish is very deviant from traditional sexual behavior. So I often get conflicted about myself.

I have had this kink since forever, I used to shove pillows

In my shirt as a kid, blow balloons up in my shirt. And that was at a time when I had anorexia (ironic asf) but my relationship with food is better but I don’t want to be gluttonous or greed because as a kid I’d get yelled at for that!

Sorry for the long long long post but I hope this has cleared up a lot and makes my mindset more clear to all of you🫶🏻

[gae-bolg-alternative-dot-exe]

You've put stealing engagement from artists into system, do you realize? And you claim to be an "animator", an artist yourself? Reblog, don't repost, come on. Thieves like you make artists want to quit posting their art online. Make better, kinder choices. For everybody's sake.

I get where you're coming from nameless hero looking out for thieves but quite literally my most used tag on tumblr is #art by op by a considerable margin. And despite that, me being an animator and artist doesn't change that I like keeping track of all the art I like accessible and in one place.

You my not like it, but my selfish villainous manifesto for why I even do ANY of this is because I use tumblr as digital archive for myself so I can refind art and artists that I like constantly. Tumblr is hands down still one of the best art archives on the internet and while a lot of artists have rightfully moved away from tumblr, deleted their work, or what have you. I'm always looking back to old art and artists that I tagged or reposted myself. And while I could just private post everything, a big part of me wants others to go check out the links on the sourced art so they could follow the artists as well. I don't like appreciating something only once and moving on like how every other social media works.

Before tumblr, I used to save every and each art I liked onto my computer taking up a huge amount of space while also being impossible to keep track of where I even got the art from. You may not understand it or agree with why I do this, but this is how I keep up to date on the thousands of artists I like that use different websites. I take this very seriously. And I will die selfish on this up to when this site finally dies.

If I could give you any solace on you wanting me to make better, kinder choices. I can guarantee you that I make sure an artist exists on tumblr before reposting something myself. I do make mistakes from time to time but I make sure to correct them and delete my own reposts when I find the artist still alive on tumblr.

I just want to say also that you would have hated pre 2017 tumblr anon. Thats when art stealing with purposefully not sourcing the artists from blogs with MASSIVE amount of followers and reblogs was rampant on this site. It was genuinely awful and it was genuinely awful how many art reposters didn't even source and people seemingly didn't care that they didn't source. I'm pretty sure most of them moved onto doing that on twitter when the porn ban hit thankfully.

[joffyworld]

FURTHERMORE,

PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD,

IGNORE THE NUMBERS

They mean nothing.

One thing I forgot to mention is that there's this expectation some people I've spoken to have that if their post doesn't do its usual numbers of notes or comments or likes, whatever the platform you're on uses, then it wasn't "worthwhile" or people "didn't like it".

Dude. Bro. Girly. They. It.

Whatever notes you get, whether it's 10k or 1 is a genuine life touched. People don't come on here and reblog or share or like without having felt something. Okay, yeah, sure, maybe you didn't explode and reach 50 thousand people and they didn't all simultaneously explode from excitement.

BUT THAT'S OKAY.

Social media platforms are designed around algorithms to push content they assume people want to see. Quite frankly, however, these algorithms suck balls. Tumblr might be one of the better in terms of posts reaching audiences and old posts gaining recognition for a long time after they were posted, but it's still just a computer throwing shit on a screen.

I see, and talk to, a lot of artists that feel they can't OC post or that they have failed because "my usual audience size didn't all see the post I made" when there's a dozen things beyond their control that affect whether or not people even know they've uploaded. Here's a short list of shit that can affect whether or not your post is seen by the average joe:

Tags

Notes

Fandom or OC

Followers

Time of Day

The weather outside

The Algorithm™

Luck

Hype around a fandom at a given time

Trends

A total of ONE of these you can control, being the tags. You have literally no say whether your post does well or not, at it SHOULDN'T MATTER. As discussed in the original post, do art for you! These numbers are genuine people behind a screen that have felt touched by what you have made. It doesn't matter whether that's one person ever, or a million people at once. People were altered even in the smallest ways by your creation, whether it was a smile or a happy cry, and that's beautiful. That's what art is, an expression of self that others can find comfort in when shared. But the key words are "EXPRESSION OF SELF." Not what the audience wants, not what God wants, but what you want.

Let me put it this way:

If you open a hospital, and are used to treating a million people a day but then suddenly have a day where only 5 people show up in need of help, is that a bad day? Or is it just good that people didn't need help? One day they might and you'll still be there because hospital equipment doesn't just vanish into thin air one day.

Audiences will see your work when they need to, and when they don't they won't. There's no two ways about it, you're fighting impossible odds if you try to make it any other way. So just let it be, do art for you and fuck everyone else. Because ultimately, the only person you're fucking by doing otherwise is yourself, and the world does plenty of that for us by default.

So go ahead, OC post! Create porn! Create the most angst-riddled depressing shit you possibly can! Don't worry about whether or not it'll do numbers and blow up big, because it doesn't matter! All that matters is that you had fun, and every life you touch with your work is a genuine human connection made over impossible distances that otherwise would've never occurred. Even posting this I'm speaking to people all the way from China to Mexico.

Will they see it? Who knows! But it doesn't matter, as long as one person sees it then that's a good thing. If nobody sees it that's great too! It means nobody needed to, so the world didn't need more lecturing on how to be happy.

Live life folks. No matter who you are, someone loves you, whether they know it yet or not, whether you know it yet or not.

Thank you for coming to my inane rant, have a good day! :D

From,

Jofferson

DO ART FOR YOU! 🫵

FUCK EVERYONE ELSE!!!

Seriously.

I'm so sick and weary of logging on here and seeing creators I adore, and people I don't even know alike, apologising for not uploading or basically begging for a break like they're not a human with needs.

You're literally a human being, with thoughts, feelings and emotions. You're not an art factory, you're not some positivity pump, you're nothing other than a genuine human being living a genuine life experience.

SO GO LIVE IT!!!

YOU OWE THE INTERNET NOTHING!!!!

There should be, and realistically is, no shame in just fucking leaving if you want to. There's no contract you signed, there's no permit you bought or lease you hold. You're a person who decided to share their art with the world, FOR FREE, and garnered an audience of faceless people behind screens who enjoy that art because YOU wanted to make it and share it.

Let me be frank as best I can. You owe the internet nothing, you owe the world nothing and you owe yourself EVERYTHING. You are the only person who can live your life, you are the only person who can create the things you create and you are the only motherfucker that should matter to you when you create those things.

Art is supposed to be a wondrous joy that inspires the mind and indulges ideas that other creatures can't even comprehend. It's supposed to be a magical and fun fantasy land where anything is possible because you make it possible. It's not a 9-5 unless you make it one, so stop making your hobby a 9-5 unless you're getting paid for it, and even then put in limits because no job that you choose to do should end in you burnt out and wishing you'd never started in the first place.

Remember when we were all kids? When we all drew and wrote for fun simply because we could? We'd show people are shit and be like "Mama look!" and she'd clap her hands all proud. But she wasn't why you picked up that crayon, you just did it for you because you wanted to make some shit.

That's how it should be. That's how it is unless you let those fake ass numbers on a screen rule your life. It's all meaningless, the praise may be genuine but that doesn't mean you should spend your whole life running in circles and performing for an audience.

Be a human being! Be an artist! Fuck everyone else!

Just be yourself <3

[starrieangel]

🩷 Curly helps reader regress 🌻

Request by Anon: “How about Curly with a reader who wants to regress but struggles to due to responsibilities and stress, And Curly just, gently coaxing reader into relaxing and taking a break from all of that”

Features: CG! Curly x Little! Reader

Tags: Fluff, Female Reader, Age Regression, omg this is way longer than expected, my Curly bias is showing

Notes: I used Daddy, Papa/Papa Bear, Teddy/Teddy Bear as cg names for Curly (cause he's my f/o and that's what I would call him alskxndkslsnxhkz thanks for requesting this, it’s very self indulgent..!!!)

rbs appreciated !! ☆ ~

Curly begins to notice that you aren't regressing as often as you used to. You've been extra busy with work or school, just general life stuff, and it seems to be taking up a lot of your mental energy

Normally he could get at least a giggle out of you each night, getting you to either regress or just relax into a calmer state by tickling you or playing with your plushies or offering to read you a bedtime story- just anything that he knows you'll enjoy

But lately when you go to bed, you don't seem to smile as much. It's like your responsibilities are weighing you down, sucking all the joy from you :(

Teddy Curly cannot have his little princess be so gloomy..! It kills him to see you so clearly stressed, but he's not really sure what to do at first..

Until one day, you come home from work/school, and Curly insists you let him take care of you.

“I know you haven't been feeling well, Princess, so I was hoping maybe today could be a.. little day? I've seen how stressed you are and, I just really want to help you feel better.”

“I don't know, Curly, I haven't really been in the best mood lately...”

“That's what I'm talking about, just... let me help you, okay? And, if I'm being honest, I really miss my little girl, too.” He says the last part sheepishly, looking down at his shoes as he says it.

You think about it for a minute before reluctantly agreeing. He sighs a breath of relief before his lips crack into a shy smile. 

“See, there's my good girl..” He wraps you in a hug, running his fingers thru your hair. “Now tell Daddy what's wrong. Please, bunny?”

You're already starting to melt a bit, feeling his strong arms around you, and hearing his handsome voice saying your special title for him.

You tell him what's been happening at work/school that has you so upset, he's resting his chin on your head as he adds “uh-huh, I hear you” or “I know, baby, that sounds hard” you can feel tears prick your eyes a bit as you near the end of your story, your speech sounding more and more like your little voice. 

He cups your face in his hands, rubbing his calloused thumb against your cheek. “Thank you for telling me that, baby. It's all going to be okay now, though. Papa's got you.” He wipes away a stray tear from your cheek.

“C-can we start that little day now?” You say, the weight of grown up life was beginning to be too much.

He chuckles a bit, thinking of how cute you are looking up at him with big wet eyes. “Of course, baby.” And without warning he picks you up so that you're resting on his hip, arms around his neck. You start to feel even more little- He’s so strong that he can easily pick you up like you're a baby /)(\

“How does a nice warm bath sound, darling?” He says in his soft voice. He presses a kiss to your cheek, really rubbing it in so that his facial hair scratches against you. You giggle from his stubble tickling your cheek- he always knows how to make you smile ♡

You nod your head, and he goes to draw you a bath ~

I think I will do a part two for this since it's kinda long!! Part 2 will have Curly giving regressed reader a bubble bath and putting them to bed 😊 Thank you for reading! and leaving requests :) sorry if I don't get to all of them, I try to only write for fun and not force anything, but I love hearing other's ideas! 

Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! I love talking to other people abt fanfic aaaa ♡ Thanks again! 

🩷🌻🧸

Guys why is this so long. Why am I so cuckoo for coco puffs over a character from a horror game. This is deranged

[lunarmothim]

shadowbound- john price x reader

part ii: soon - the truth comes out.

word count: 4.5k tags/warnings: language, abduction, canon typical violence.

It's quiet. Too quiet- all you can really hear is the creak of footsteps against the flooring downstairs, a small indication of your captors moving about. If they speak they don't do it at a volume you can hear no matter how hard you strain your ears. 

It's fine. This is fine. You've gotten out of worse situations, haven't you? You were supposed to die in Al Mazrah, a bullet in your head while the Russians made off with your cargo. You didn't. You were supposed to die back in Texas, locked in a cell deep underground with no hope of escape. You didn't.

You can make it out of this. 

Your options are limited, though. Breaking out of your zip cuffs would require an injury, something that would require medical attention and slow you down, and that's not even considering your chances of making it past the four men downstairs. Talking your way out of it is even less likely especially now that they know you're a former Shadow, something they don't seem to like all that much. So what's left?

You don't know. You've been in survival mode the last few months, no time to plan or prepare- not that you have that luxury now, but it's still a situation that requires some thought, and that alone gives you pause. What do I do? Figure a way out of here, obviously, but you can't quite figure out where to start, not when every thought you have has a counter-plan staring right back at you.

Well, when in doubt do what you know.

It's awkward, the shift to shimmy your wrists down to your ankles, bringing your bound hands in front of you, and for a second you worry your hips won't allow you to move your arms the way you need to. You make it somehow, immediately reaching up to yank the bag from your head. 

Which brings you to the next step you're not a hundred percent sure of. You have your sight back but limited use of your hands- do you run? You're fast enough you could make it, but your mobility could present a problem until you're able to get the cuffs off. The city would be easy enough to disappear into until you could get new documents, but how hard would it be for them to find you? The military has resources, a lot more than you do at this point, and you imagine it would take them no time at all to locate and apprehend you again.

So what the fuck do you do?

You have no fucking clue, and you're not given a lot of time to think about it. The door slams open and you're looking up at the captain again. He doesn't look entirely surprised by the state you definitely hadn't been left in.

"We're moving," is all he says, stalking forward to yank you up out of your chair. Think. Think. Formulating plans on the go is your specialty, but everything you'd ever been taught is a vague memory on the edges of your subconscious, just out of reach, as he leads you through the house, down the stairs and out the front door. He doesn't bother with a blindfold when he throws you into the back of the van again, at least, nor does he change your cuffs to rebind you behind your back. 

You're not sure if you should find that comforting or not.

You decide on not when it's Ghost that climbs into the back after you, his dark eyes boring into your soul.

"So," he says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, lurching slightly when the van starts moving. Your patch is in his hand, the worn edge peeking between his fingers. "Wanna tell us what you did to Graves?"

Oh, you're not fucking ready for that. The silence between Ghost leaving you and you being dragged out to the van clearly hadn't been empty- they'd dug, found something you weren't entirely prepared to address if they know about Graves. 

"Dunno what you mean," you croak out, voice breaking slightly on the syllables. He doesn't look like he believes it. 

"Try again." His hand catches you by the jaw again, refusing to let you look away, refusing to give you even a second to gather your racing thoughts. They know you're a Shadow, they know about Graves. What else do they know? Do they have your file? His fingers tighten when he says your name- your full name, not just the first name you'd given the captain at the train station. They have your file. 

Graves burned the files of anyone he lost. He clearly hadn't burned yours.

There's no use pretending anymore.

"You're taking me back to him, aren't you?" you whisper, staring up at him. If he's going to lie to you, you're going to make him look you in the eyes while he does it. You think of your last interaction with the commander, the barely healed scars scattered across your body. The days spent in a cell before he'd released you with the false promise of safety.

"It's just how we have to do things, doll," he drawled, dragging his palm over the deep cut on your shoulder even when you flinched away. "Gotta make sure you know how not to talk, no matter the circumstance."

You knew how not to talk. He knew that you knew how not to talk. He chose to torture you anyway.

So if this group is taking you back to Graves, you'll find a way to make them kill you along the way. 

And if they won't? You'll just do it yourself.

You lunge before Ghost can react. The knife strapped to his thigh is in your hands, slicing through your cuffs in one fluid motion. In the same breath you have the back door of the van open, tucking in on yourself as you roll out onto the street- you can hear the screech of the tires, the van jerking to a halt, but you pay it no mind, leaping to your feet and sprinting back down the road. It's lined with sparse trees on either side and not much else, not a lot of options to hide.

Don't hide, your brain chides you, urging you on. Keep running.

You'd run track in school, a sprinter through and through. Always the fastest, taking first every time. It's been a while since you've needed it, but it's easy to fall back into old habits, keeping your elbows close to your body and your frame tilted slightly forward, your center of gravity kept low. Keep it close, keep it tight. Sprint like your life fucking depends on it.

The tree you pass catches the bullet shot after you. You hear it thud into the wood seconds after you duck around it, inches from your head. Too close. Keep running. There's a wheat field in the distance, tall golden stalks swaying in the breeze. Make it there and you can disappear into them, hide until they pass. Find your way back to the city, find your way out.

If only things were that simple.

A heavy weight strikes the center of your back, driving the air out of you as you crash into the ground. Your stolen knife tilts up, digging into flesh that doesn't even get a reaction beyond the hot spurt of blood across your knuckles before your arms are wrestled behind your back again. You feel the scratch of his balaclava against your cheek, his weight pinning you to the ground with ease.

"Makin' my job fun," he pants low in your ear, a hint of amusement in his tone. You struggle against his hold when he stands, hauling you up to your feet, but his grip is unrelenting. "C'mon then. Let's go."

The van is waiting in the same spot you'd left it. This time, after zip-cuffing your hands behind your back again, Ghost keeps hold of you.

"Slippery little minx, isn't she?" The captain's voice as you're shoved into the back of the van again has you bristling, wanting to rip free and strangle him with your bare hands. "You good?"

"M'solid," Ghost grunts, and you hiss when he brackets your shoulders between his knees. "Sit fuckin' still."

"Fuck you," you can't help but growl, wrenching forward until your shoulders ache. "Let me fucking go-"

"Not a chance." His tone brooks no argument, and you almost howl when he grabs you by the back of the neck, fingers digging into the sides of your throat. "Sit. Still."

What else can you do but obey? You don't relax against him, body tense against his calf and ready to run again- not that his hold on you would let you. 

"Talk." It's the captain that speaks, and when you look up at him he's twisted in his seat, staring back at you.

"Eat shit, captain," you spit back, and his eyes narrow in response. "I'm not goin' back. Just fuckin' kill me."

That, it seems, gives him pause. Narrowed eyes widen slightly, really taking you in for the first time. The defiant set of your shoulders, the way you're ready to spit acid despite your captivity. He sees you, sees the way you're ready to run again, how you're ready to die. His voice drops.

"What happened." It's no longer a question, his hand twitching toward his gun. You're out of chances.

What can you do but tell him the truth?

DELIVERY ROUTE AL MAZRAH 12 AUGUST 2022, 0300

The road is dark, quiet. Not uncommon in the deserts of Al Mazrah this time of night, but still unnerving as you navigate toward the drop off point. The SUV follows a large cargo truck with a blue shipping container on the back, two more with similar cargo in front of them in the convoy. You don't know what you're transporting, but a nagging feeling in your gut tells you it's big. Important. Behind the wheel, Erikson seems to think the same.

"What are we carrying this time, Graves?" he asks, glancing at you in the rearview when you make a small noise of agreement, slightly narrowed eyes telling you to keep quiet. One curious team member asking questions is one thing, two becomes an irritation. No one likes it when Graves gets irritated.

The radio crackles with static, followed by that smooth southern drawl that to some is probably charming, but to you just feels slimy. "If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya."

"I bet he'd do it, too," Vance mutters, and you hum in agreement as you flick your gaze between the two men in the front seat and the truck in front of you. Of the members of your team Vance is the one you're closest to, the one who shares your whispered concerns about what the hell it is you're even doing these days and why you seem to be so far up Shepherd's ass you know what meal he's currently digesting. Concerns he'd only brought up to you over a stolen bottle of whiskey on the HQ rooftop, the haze of a shared cigarette hanging between you. 

He's a good man, a little softer around the edges than the rest of the hardened soldiers that make up the Shadow Company. He'd told you once that he'd wanted to be a teacher, before a terrorist attack had taken down planes in New York. That he'd enlisted the next week and before long his hands were so bloody he could barely look anyone in the eye. To this day, he refuses to tell you why he decided to go private, how he'd ended up on this dark desert road transporting who the hell knows what to who the hell knows who. 

Classified, Graves had told you all at the meeting before you'd shipped out, with some vague story about delivering some aid to your allies in the area. The rest is need to know. 

Need to know always raises interest, makes you speculate when there's little else to focus on but making sure you aren't being followed. You can't speak for the dozens of Shadows that make up the convoy, but you know for sure that you and the other three in this SUV are all wondering what's so important that you have to transport it in the dead of night through hostile territory.

"This's nothing but a milk run, boys," Graves answers after a moment, sounding a little too smug as always. He enjoys having the upper hand, knowing things that others don't. He does throw you a bone though, edged with warning - "Guns for the good guys - you'll be back at HQ for breakfast. Don't shit the bed and there'll be bonuses all around. Find me when you're back."

While the other three answer in the affirmative, Vance and Erikson bumping fists, you stare out the window at the black windows of the abandoned buildings you're driving past, eyes scanning for anything out of place. Something about this just isn't sitting right with you, even more so when the radio crackles again and Graves informs you that Shepherd's waiting for a sitrep.

"Three containers..." Vance muses, and when your eyes shift to him, his own gaze is fixed on the shipping container in front of you, contemplative. His face is obscured by his balaclava and shadows, but you can see the corner of his jaw working behind the black fabric, slowly clenching and unclenching. He's on edge, too.

"That's a lotta fuckin' milk," Dipaolo agrees from where he's sitting next to you, and you can see his wry grin bunching up the balaclava at the corners of his mouth.

"Thirsty friends," Erikson responds with a slight shrug, radioing in to Shepherd with the sitrep, who warns them much like Graves had not to fail. That alone rings alarm bells in your head, but before you can voice them Vance beats you to the punch.

"Do not fail...? Told you this shit was important," he says, and when his green eyes meet yours in the rearview, you can see the worry buried in the furrow of his brows. You're sure his mouth is pressed into a tight line beneath the balaclava.

The cargo truck in front of you comes to a sudden stop, drawing all of your attention forward. You weren't supposed to stop, had been ordered to keep moving no matter what. Doesn't matter if there's a civvy, just drive through them, Graves had said. Fucking sick, you'd muttered under your breath in response.

"What's this?" Dipaolo asks, his grip tightening on his rifle as he glances between the stopped truck and Erikson, white-knuckled on the wheel.

"Three, this is Erikson, what's up?" the driver demands into the radio, fingers of one hand loosening to twitch toward the sidearm strapped to his thigh. Nothing but a crackle of static for two very long seconds, before 3-1's voice comes back.

"Got a vehicle in the road," he reports, followed by voices calling out loudly in Arabic.

"Stand by, comin' to ya." Erikson spins the wheel and carefully pulls around the cargo truck, and if the alarm bells weren't sounding before, they're practically screaming now - it's only you and the SUV behind you bringing up the rear of the convoy, and all of this feels like a trap. But Erikson is the superior in this car, it's his call. Still...

"Is this the best idea?" you ask quietly, shifting your rifle in your lap as you creep up alongside the stopped convoy toward the commotion at the front. "Weakening the rear like this?"

"Not your call," Vance warns, a flash of green in the rearview again. You can see the same unease you feel reflected in what little you can see of his face as he picks up the radio. "Graves, Vance - be advised, we're held up, sortin' it out now."

"Handle it - keep the line movin'." The look Vance gives as he acknowledges Graves' response says see? We're solid. You don't feel solid. You feel like the earth is about to open up beneath your feet, even more so when you reach the front and see the brake lights of 3-1's armored truck, doors open as he stands in the road trying to coax the driver of the heavy cargo truck blocking the road at an angle out of the way in broken Arabic.

"I don't like this," Erikson says quietly, glancing back at you. For the first time since the convoy had stopped, you can see a hint of unease in his brown eyes. 

"Something's wrong," you murmur in agreement, fingers tightening on your rifle as your wary eyes stare ahead at the vehicle blocking the road, the lone Shadow trying and failing to convey the urgency with which he needs them to move. His Arabic is atrocious, an obvious fact that probably isn't helping matters, but even his bastardized accent and butchered words are clear - the person in the vehicle needs to move, and move now. But he doesn't, and that alone has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. 

"Dipaolo, Harbinger, lean out and cover him," Erikson orders, and without hesitation Dipaolo hauls himself up into the open window, leaning out to raise his M4 at the situation in front of them. You mirror him on the opposite side, staring down your sights as the people blocking the road continue to refuse to move.

"We need a 'terp out here, what's the call sir?" 3-1 asks, sounding frustrated as another yelled order goes ignored. Your finger shifts off the trigger guard, wary eyes taking in everything - from the lone man standing near the tailgate of the truck, his two friends peering casually over the back to the man in the road... wrong. Something's wrong. Your instincts are screaming at you, but you tamp them down as you wait for orders.

"Vance, Dipaolo, go help him out," Erikson orders, gesturing to 3-1, who's yelling again. "Harbinger, cover from here."

"Aye sir," you answer, tensing as the door starts to open - and then gunfire erupts. You can barely tell up from down as you return fire, zeroing in on a man who's emerged from a hatch on the top of the body of the truck. 3-1 goes down in the mayhem, and several more enemies pour out of the surrounding shadows.

You barely hear your teammates yelling around you over the rush of blood in your ears, the explosive sound of gunfire echoing off the nearby buildings. The muzzle flash has a strobe-like effect, making you nauseous as you duck back down into the SUV to reload.

"Back up, back up!" Vance is yelling. His voice distant, like it's coming from the far end of a long tunnel. You can't focus on it, can't focus on anything but slamming the magazine into your rifle and leaning out the window again to cover your retreat from the truck that had driven into the road in front of you, full of enemy reinforcements. 

Above it all, two voices stand out - Graves ordering you to eliminate the threat, and Shepherd... prioritizing the cargo. Something is wrong.

And then everything explodes in a spray of metal, fire and blood and body parts. Ears ringing, you throw yourself back into the vehicle as Erikson tries to maneuver you out of there. You can see the muzzle flash, your team's mouths moving, but all you hear is the ringing. When you reach up to touch your ear, your gloved fingers come away bloody.

Your eyes meet Vance's when your escape route is blocked off, the car jolting as Erikson throws it in reverse, and the last thing you see is Vance's masked face as the flare of the RPG lights the interior of the car, sending it end over end.

141 TRANSPORT PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC 06 DECEMBER 2024, 1830

"I was the only survivor," you tell the Captain quietly. The van had been silent as you told your story. You hadn't wanted to share it at all, but now that you had, it feels almost... cathartic. An outlet for the trauma of what had happened then and what had come after. "I woke up at a field hospital in Urzikstan two, three weeks later? Still not sure, it's all pretty fuzzy. Graves was there, which seemed pretty normal at first. He's a smarmy asshole but no one can say he doesn't care about his team. He was livid with Shepherd for not sending backup. We lost a lot of good men that day.

It wasn't until we were back on base that things started to change. He got quiet, even more secretive than before. Had a lot of closed door meetings with Shepherd, and one fine Thursday morning, he called me into his office. Wanted to hear again what I remembered about the attack. About the cargo. I, like an idiot, voiced my suspicions. Earned myself a one way trip to a cell for it. He did fight Shepherd about killing me, but in the end Shepherd won. In his words, I knew too much.

While the rest of Shadow Company headed out for a mission in Mexico, a dozen of them stayed behind to deal with me. I killed them and dragged their bodies into his office before I escaped. Little message for him. If I had to guess, he decided to just kill me in retaliation. Knew he'd never be able to find me, so he sent someone else to do his dirty work." 

Wringing your hands, you stare out one of the two small windows set in the back doors of the van, watching a middle-aged woman in the sedan behind you yelling into her phone, swerving slightly in her anger. It seems so... normal. So mundane. You wonder what has the woman so pissed.

"Why give us so much attitude then?" It's the Captain that speaks. You glance over at him again, note the way his brow furrows as he studies you from beneath the brim of his boonie hat. You can't read his expression fully, but he looks conflicted. 

"Don't know you, don't trust you," you answer simply, holding his gaze steadily. Your fear from the train station is long gone, and now you're just tired.

His expression flashes with understanding before smoothing into something unreadable again. "I see."

"Yeah." You study him for a moment, watching the corner of his jaw twitch, the way he rubs at his beard. "I'm not your enemy, you know."

"Do I?" His eyes are exhausted, deep blue staring into yours.

"You should." You want to go home. You want to sleep for a week, take a second to gather your thoughts before you have to move again. You can't help the way it bleeds into your words. "I'm fuckin' tired, Captain. I miss home."

"Where is home?" It's an innocent question, innocuous. It's a window into your soul.

"I don't know anymore." It comes out a whisper, a quiet breath. You haven't had anything to call yours beyond a small room on base in a very long time, the Shadows the only home you'd cared about. You rip your gaze back, staring out the window again. "Born in Minnesota, moved around a lot growing up. Had an apartment in Texas, near Dallas. Didn't much care for it, if m'honest."

"That why you joined the military?"

"S'pose." You don't want to answer the captain's questions but his voice makes it hard, deep and gravelly and demanding answers. "Family's more likely, maybe. Dad was a Marine, made me want to be one too. Went through MARSOC training with Graves. Fuckin' asshole, if m'honest-"

"We know." The Scot is the one to reply, surprisingly, and you glance up to find icy blue eyes staring back. "Nearly killed us."   "Bit of a habit of his, isn't it?" you muse, glancing back down again. You hadn't been expecting to find a kindred spirit in this, spewing as much vitriol as you already felt toward Graves. You almost wonder what they'd say if you told them what Graves had threatened to do to you. "Heard he went a bit nuts after Mexico."

"My doin'," the Scot murmurs proudly, and your eyes track over to him once more. Up close like this you can see a scar on his head, the starburst of a gunshot wound. "Blew 'im up."

"Shame it didn't stick," you reply quietly, and his grin drops. They obviously have some kind of connection with Graves too, just as contentious as yours. You won't question it, but you're glad for that little bit of camaraderie. "Next time."

"Next time," Mohawk agrees, and you can't help the tiny smile that splits across your lips at the promise, vague as it is. 

It's a flicker of hope. You can't help but latch onto it.

"Can't keep callin' you Mohawk," you murmur out loud, glancing between him and the black man sitting next to him opposite you, your shoulder still pressed into Ghost's knee. "You know my name, sems fair I know yours."

"Soap," he answers after a moment. You don't miss the way his eyes flick between Ghost and Mutton Chops up in the driver's seat. "Captain Price, Gaz, Ghost." You catalogue the names with the men- it's easy with what you know already. Price. The captain's eyes meet yours in the mirror, stormy blue.

"Harbinger," you reply quietly, drawing your legs in. They know it already, if they have your file. It still makes you feel at least a little better, makes you feel like you have even the smallest iota of control.

You keep your hold on the captain long after he's looked back at the road. He looks like he's in charge, turbulent eyes and tense shoulders. If you have even a chance at freedom he's probably the one that will decide, the one that will either order his men to kill you or let you go. You're not holding your breath either way.

"I'm not goin' back." You don't mean it to be rude, but it's true. "Graves can eat a bag of dicks."

"Not takin' you to Graves," Soap tells you, and you almost believe it. Almost.

"Then where?" They won't keep you in Prague. You know that, know the playbook they're working with. Their base is the most likely option, or some kind of middle ground with the agencies that wanted you in the first place. So where? Their accents scream UK.

The van stops. Ghost confirms it, his hand tightening on the back of your neck several minutes before he hauls you out of the vehicle and on to the tarmac. You see the plane you've been brought to, small and private, and it brings you back to the thought of who'd brought you here- you're a hot commodity and you know it, but the question is which three letter agency wants you the most? 

They don't tell you. You're given no idea of your destination, no clue who blocks your path. All you know is the firm hold on the back of your neck, Ghost keeping you close. You want to throttle him for it.

Soon.

part one - masterlist - part two

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :) top/bottom divider by: me line divider by: @/saradika-graphics

[another-delta-lover]

Hello!! Delta here!! Coming back from a long break!! :D

^ A lil about my blog:

PLEASE DON'T CALL ME AN ARTISTS!! MAKES ME UNCOMFY!! :( Call me someone that draw or anything else, be creative and have fun about it XD

This blog might contain some unappropiate stuff (swears, slurs [the ones I can say], sex jokes, and so on) but nothing nsfw!!

This is mostly an art blog! I do drawing requests A LOT!! They're open most of the time, but it's always kind to ask first!!

ASKS ARE OPEN most of the time! Say whatever you want idc! If you make me uncomfy I'll tell you or just block you! I'm always open to chat! :)

I get tired often T_T So some days I might not be as active as others, so please don't insist too much about it :(

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

] DNI!! if you... [ :

.- are a Zionist or Pro-israel, TERF, Proshipper, Trump supporter, are against the LGBTQIA+ community, are a pedofile, or very disrespectful in general!! . If you're any of these, please educate yourself better. If you don't, then block me/DNI. -.

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

☆My alt blogs!!-

My evil self >:] : @another-alpha-hater

My Medic-Bot (and other tf2 robots) RP blog: @the-real-tf2-medicbot

My TF2 heavy and medic ocs RP blog!: @niko-n-frank-mailbox

My daily heavy blog! : @daily-tf2-heavy

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

☆ MY TAGS!!! -

Non art related:

Important stuff- #Deltas megaphone

Reblogs- #Deltas reblogy:3

Mutuals- #Deltas frens

My best she/her friend!!- #Deltas cloudy fren

My platonical beloved- #Pootis Deltis

Random yappin- #Deltas yappin

Random RAGE/ANGRY yappin- #Deltas AUGH

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Asks- #Deltas consulting room

Art related:

Drawings- #Deltas serious pencil grabbin

Drawing req- #Deltas mercy on the poor

Doodles- #Deltas random pencil grabbin

Ocs - #Deltas children

SFMs - #Delta thinks he's Valve XD

Extra tags:

Posts about ma family :3 - #Deltas family posts

Me being obssesed with Heavy— #The Flower N The Bear

Alt blogs and I arguing- #Deltas voices getting louder

🇨🇱CHILEAN STUFF WHEN IT'S SEPTEMBER🇨🇱- #Deltas UYUI🇨🇱

THIS BLOG'S CURRENT HYPERFIXATION IS: Team Fortress 2

[ FANDOM TAGS UNDER THE CUT ]---

Tf2- #Deltas men obssesion

UT/DT- #Deltas cringe era

House MD- #Deltas medical malpractice

Mouthwashing- #Deltas Dental Hygiene

Gravity Falls- #Deltas reason to love triangles

Dandy's World- #Deltas fav roblox game

JJBA- #Deltas BUFF GAY men obssesion

I'm Scared A Pixelated Nightmare- #Deltas worst hear me out

SCP- #Deltas scientist complex

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Regretavator- #Deltas WORSE roblox obssesion

Minecraft- #Deltas inner child

TADC- #Deltas YT brain rot

TNMN- #Deltas really unhealthy obssesion

Good Omens(I don't support the writer)- #Deltas june depression

Frankenstein- #Deltas book reading

Some extra fandoms I'm in+ stuff I like that don't have a tag!!-

Untitled Tag Game

Cube Escape

Doors

Mandela Catalogue (I don't support the creator)

Bad Parenting

Life Eater

The Last Of Us game

Cuphead (show and game)

Nimona

Wild Robot

You can always ask me if I like more!! (I always forget XD)

[bunnyboy-juice]

NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???

[bitegore]

Zionists want you to conflate Judaism and Zionism. Zionists want you to believe that Judaism cannot exist without Zionism and that all Jews are Zionists. Zionism would have Jews believe that a Jewish state is the only way that they can be safe from antisemitism and will point to any instance of antisemitism as proof that Zionism is the solution- so Zionism wants gentiles to be antisemitic in their support of Palestine. They want you to conflate all Jews with Zionism and the state of Israel, and they want you to treat all Jews regardless of political affiliation as the face of Israel. Antizionist Jews exist, and incidences of antisemitism ostensibly acting against Zionism will not help dismantle the forces propping Zionism up.

Don't do their work for them.

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.