#and I just know that I'll be devastated no matter what the answer is

[braceletofteeth]

I swear to god if by the end of their “last date” Fadel tells Style he's gonna be away the next day, busy, and Style replies with “I'll miss you”, knowing full well Fadel will most probably not be gone for a day, but forever...

[sunnynwanda]

Remember

Part 2

Warnings: language, mentions of past falling out, slightly suggestive (kissing)

Today was officially the worst day ever.

Hero was sure of it. Not only were they forced to cut their day off short, but it was also raining cats and dogs, and their asshole of a nemesis decided to challenge them at the worst time possible - and if that wasn't enough, the little shit was late. Again.

Hero groans, leaning back against the brick chimney, no longer bothered by the raindrops hitting their pale skin. They wipe their eyes, staring up at the gloomy sky, the misty grey reminding the eyes of someone they used to know. Lucky for them, the thought gets interrupted by a voice that carries enough mockery to erase the chalky feeling from their chest.

"How do you manage to look more pathetic each time we meet?" Villain drawls, leaning their shoulder against the chimney.

"When will you learn to read the damn time, you little-" Hero cuts off, an irritated growl escaping their lips.

"Uh-uh," Villain chuckles at their inability to curse out loud, their lips curling into an attractive annoying smirk. "As long as it annoys you, I don't see why I would."

"I hate you," Hero mutters under their breath, earning a scoff from Villain.

"No, you don't," they muse, watching Hero with an unreadable expression in their deep grey eyes. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do," Hero assures them, not quite believing their own words. Somehow, it matters more to convince Villain right now. They shake their head, getting up. "What did you want?"

Villain pauses, shrugging as they step away, keeping some distance between them. "I, um- wanted a fight?"

"Is that a question or a statement?" Hero quirks an eyebrow at them, but Villain avoids their gaze, and Hero's concern grows exponentially. "Villain, what's wrong?"

"I- can we move this inside?" They request, looking more sheepish than Hero has ever seen them. "Do you remember this place?" Villain adds, their voice sounding strained.

"Yes," Hero's response is barely audible through the loud drumming of the rain. They can feel their throat tightening, so they gesture for Villain to continue.

"I own the place now," Villain confesses, meeting Hero's gaze with their own. For a moment, Hero just stares at them, heart clenching at the flood of memories invading their mind like a rogue wave - unpredictable and devastating.

They don't respond; instead, they follow after Villain, careful not to trip on the familiar - now wet - stairs. Once they get inside, Villain leads them down a scarcely lit corridor until they reach the bathroom. Hero offers them a questioning look.

"Your clothes are drenched," Villain explains. "Take a shower, I'll lend you something to wear."

"The hell-" The door shuts in Hero's face, cutting their protest short. They sigh, glancing around the small bathroom with green tiled walls. It's still as cosy, and it's ripping their lungs out through their throat to be here again.

By the time they get out of the shower, the clothes are set out for them. Hero gets dressed, pausing to look at their reflection, clad in Villain's clothes. They run a hand through their hair and squeeze their eyes shut, willing themself not to think of the place they're in, the memories it holds and the way their heart clenches painfully in their chest at the thought of Villain choosing to buy their childhood home.

"Why?" Villain's head whips up at the question. They take Hero in, gulping before averting their eyes to the logs in the fireplace. "Why do you own this place?"

Because it was your home. Because it was the only home I knew. Because I couldn't bear to lose it the way I lost you. Because I...

"I wanted to," Villain opts for the safest answer, not daring to look at Hero, despite being aware of their presence in the room. The same room that held all of their happy moments gathered in four walls covered in flowers hand-painted by Hero's mom.

"That's not an answer," Hero argues, their brows furrowing. They feel conflicted yet relieved, and it's a strange combination.

"I know," Villain breathes out, burying their face in their hands. "I loved this place." I love you.

"I remember," Hero nods, coming to sit next to Villain's hunched form on the couch. "We loved having you here." They place a hand on Villain's back, rubbing it soothingly.

"Your mom sold it because of..." Villain mutters, but Hero doesn't allow them to complete the sentence, circling their wrists with cold fingers and pulling their hands away from their face.

"No," they state firmly, taking hold of Villain's chin and tilting it up. "Look at me," they demand. "She didn't do it because of you. She did it for me. I didn't want to keep living here. Not after-"

"I betrayed you," Villain nods shortly, their hands clenching in their lap. "I remember."

"Not after I lost my best friend," Hero corrects, letting go of their face. "Do you remember that as well?"

"Being your best friend?" Hero hums in confirmation, making bile rise in Villain's throat. "Of course I do."

"Anything else you might remember?" Hero questions, their tone too bitter even for their own taste. "Like how we spent every waking moment together, how you were the only person I could trust, how I shared my best and worst with you?"

"Everything," Villain lets out a heavy sigh, their beautiful grey eyes watering. How do I ever tell you? "I remember everything."

Hero stares at them, unable to stomach the disheartened expression weighing Villain's features. They know Villain deserves their cruelty but can't bring themself to press on.

"Well, then you should also remember how I've always managed to whoop your ass in a fight," Hero grins, pushing Villain back against the cushions in an attempt to ease the tension.

"Hey!" Villain protests, but just as they are about to get up, a pillow hits them square in the head. "Hero!"

"What?" Hero chuckles, flinging another pillow that hits Villain in the face. "You don't remember that small detail, you little shit?" They hiss, maintaining a playfull tone.

"Maybe not," Villain sneers, catching another weapon of Hero's flying in their direction. They look at it before glancing back up at Hero, their lips stretching into a wicked smirk. "But I do remember you're ticklish!"

"No, no, no!" Hero all but yelps the second Villain's fingers touch their sides. They try to wiggle away but end up falling to the floor with a strained groan mixed in with uncontrollable laughter.

Villain grins, sliding off the couch and landing on their knees over Hero, still tickling them as they hover above their nemesis. Though the victory doesn't last long because Hero manages to compose themself and grab Villain's wrists.

"I hate you," they murmur, staring up at Villain with a bated breath. They can hear their own heartbeat thundering in their temples like a wild bird in a cage of thorns.

"No, you don't," Villain mutters, glancing at Hero's lips before meeting their eyes again, barely restrained desire flaring in their eyes.

"No, I don't," Hero agrees, leaning up and capturing Villain's lips in an intense kiss, only to break it a moment later as they start to process what the actual fuck they are doing. "I-"

"Shut up," Villain growls, crushing their lips back on Hero's, one of their hands coming up to cup Hero's jaw.

"I'm not forgiving you just because you got the house back," they mutter, gripping the back of Villain's neck to keep them in place.

"I know," Villain drags their lips over Hero's jawline, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake.

Hero guides Villain's lips back to theirs, whispering between kisses. "And this doesn't mean we're friends."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby," Villain lets out a soft whimper, earning a low chuckle from their enemy.

"Baby, huh?" Hero grins, feeling Villain melt in their arms.

"Fuck, I love the living lights out of you," Villain mutters, thinking out loud unfiltered. Once the realisation hits, their eyes widen in anticipation of just about anything in response.

Hero, however, does not hesitate, pulling Villain down on top of them and catching their lips in a deep kiss.

Part 2

Hi lovelies!

Based on the lovely request right here! Though it got a little out of hand :) I had been thinking about childhood friends turned enemies turned lovers for some time and this just evolved into that trope.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

xo Sunny

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy@alltimelowing@lateuplight@surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney

@thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood

@whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444 @m4iloblu3

[achillean-heartbeat]

Listening to the AWTWB Baz playlist Rainbow Rowell has posted on spotify is... devastating.

i am in love with all of Rainbow's playlists and her annotations on her site. i absolutely love how much thought she puts into them in relation to her characters, and how much you can find Simon and Baz in their respective playlists.

But the AWTWB: Baz playlist, specifically, holds a special place in my heart...

The absolute fucking SOFTNESS from the first song till the very last... while listening i can SEE Baz cradling his own vulnerable bleeding heart in his hands and holding it out to Simon no matter the consequences...

I will never shut up about Rainbow's playlists for her characters. They're so good they make me weep everytime i listen.

Edit: Fuck it.

Here's all the specific lyrics in the AWTWB: BAZ playlist by Rainbow Rowell on spotify that made me physically clutch my heart from pain (and love. For Baz.):

"We thought love was something, we weren't meant to find, but now you're a stranger"

"but you don't remember, August honey, you were mine."

"I can't forget those earlier days, when i was in your heart, Now you take my hand, and it's as cold, as when you speak."

"Cannot count the ways you used to love me, But I can count the ways you used to try"

"The cries are just the start, To a fallen angel, While one hand takes the cross, Another lights the candle"

"would you feel, together and inebriated, enabling of a fable, we were never meant to be but together."

"I want say what lovers say to you, I want to feel what lovers feel with you, I want to do it with you. Would you be my lover?"

"Remember the time you told me love was touching souls, Surely you touched mine 'cause part of you pours out of me."

"You're in my blood, you're my holy wine. You taste so bitter and so sweet. Oh I could drink a case of you darling"

"You felt shelter somewhere in me, I find great comfort in you, And I keep you safe from harm, You hold me in your arms"

"I've got your back, And though, it's stacked against us, I've got your hand, It's us against consensus, And I will burn, The people who hurt you"

"You know it's time that we, Grow old and do some shit, I like it all that way"

"Won't you please let me go?, These words lie inside they hurt me so, I've Lost you, I've Lost you, I've Lost you."

"Please don't let me hit the ground, Tonight I think I'll walk alone, I'll find my soul as I go home."

"Looking out at endless snow, Waiting in the silence, If you won't spill your heart, I'll chase you for the worst you owe."

"You are the answer to my question, You are my accomplice in a crime."

"In the twilight they danced and played, The fireflies they go light like cray, In the dreaming we struck each other, and prayed, for pain."

"Two melting candles against the sun, Modern angels they broke our wings in the wind, For what?"

"But when I'm asleep, I want somebody, Who will put their arms around me, And kiss me tenderly"

"Who knows how long I've loved you, You know I love you still, Will I wait a lonely lifetime, If you want me to, I will."

The more i listen to this playlist, the more i cry, the more i ache over baz and the unconditional love this boy, this man, holds in his heart.

Thank you @rainbowrowell.

[we-stan-cale]

I was thinking a bit about character development.

Like, Cale, Choi Han, and Alberu have a beautiful friendship - and it grew over the course of the entire story.

I'm probably going to talk about later parts of the story, so Imma put the rest behind a divider so you can avoid spoilers

In the beginning, Choi Han was loyal to Cale but .. it was kind of shallow.

Choi Han didn't understand why they had to wear those shitty Arm robes, was shocked when Cale created his alibi by drinking, and so on and so forth.

He followed Cale, but he didn't really know Cale that well yet and that was clear.

Oh, and it was much more of a hierarchical relationship. Cale as his legs, Choi Han as Cale's knight.

This slowly began to change, though I think there were a couple of key turning points.

Cale almost dying after the Battle of the Gorge was one of them.

I think that's when Choi Han truly realized he couldn't trust Cale when it came to his health. Not that he hadn't seen signs before, but Cale always brushed things off and I think this was when Choi Han realized that no, it's really not okay, no matter what Cale says.

After that, we see Choi Han start asking more questions...

And Cale (with a clear flashback to his time as a team leader, where his people desperately wanted to help more) actually answered them.

The relationship started to shift, and become less liege and knight, and more colleagues. (This, btw, came from both of them. Choi Han asking more, and Cale telling more. Somewhat. A little bit.)

They definitely grow closer in other ways - Choi Han telling them about his long life after they found the Dragon Village, for example. (Though Cale already knew it, so you also see just how much Cale is still keeping his secrets).

And then...

We get Choi Han receiving Choi Jung Soo's memories.

That causes the biggest shift yet.

Now they aren't just liege and knight.

Now we have Cale thinking of Choi Han as his best friend's elder (even if Choi Han doesn't feel a need for that).

Also, Choi Han now knows. Not just that Cale is a transmigrator, not just about his life as Kim Rok Soo, not just about the cataclysm (and what happened to the Choi family).

He also knows about the tragedy that has pretty much defined Cale. He may not know about the aftermath, or Cale's time as team leader, but he knows that Cale was devastated after losing everyone.

We also see Choi Han (who got Syrem's ancient powers and now knows what it's like to use them) insist that Cale shouldn't absorb the Blood-drenched Rock power, a potential standoff that ended when Cale found another way and used Embrace instead.

They are no longer liege and obedient knight.

And then came the sealed god's test, where Choi Han gave up quite a lot of his potential lifespan, just to join Cale in one of the worst times of Cale's life.

And he was happy for it.

We see Cale truly overcome with emotion. The trust and friendship between the two of them is just beautiful.

And I truly meant to talk about Alberu as well (him joining them also adding to this) but I only realized when writing this just how much I had to say about Cale and Choi Han, so maybe I'll do that another time.

Anyways.

That still wasn't everything. Because we also had the indignity test...

And while I think the author didn't fully finish everything Choi Han saw because it'll probably come up in part 2 (it hasn't yet, but I think I see the author building up to something. Because so far they've all been too busy to really address a few things, plus apparently there's dragons dealing with time? Anyways, I suspect we'll get more on Cale's childhood, and what Choi Han knows, and some other things, but we'll see. It took almost 300 chapters in part 1 before we got all the amazing scenes with Cale and Choi Han and the sealed god's test and instant so I'm willing to let the author build things up again.)

Oh, sorry. What was I saying? Right.

Even though we don't have the full story, we know that Choi Han knows.

And in one of the side stories, he says this:

He didn’t know at first, but that person’s days of rest that Choi Han saw was more of a period of recovery than days of rest. Of course, the person himself thought that he was playing around, but it did not seem like that to Choi Han at all. That was why his people, who at some point realized the meaning of this rest day, tried their best not to bother his recovery.

And again, in the same side story but referring to a moment later in part 1

Cale was mumbling. “Haaaa. It’d be great to be a slacker.” Choi Han knew the meaning of those words. ‘I want to rest. I need to heal.’ That should be the meaning. However, he now knew what Cale would say after that.

And skipping the specific details, what Choi Han probably meant when he said he knew what Cale would say after that

Cale looked toward the east and calmly commented. “There are too many things to do, so I can’t rest.”

Choi Han understands Cale 1000x more than he did when they started.

And Cale understands Choi Han better, too.

Which is probably a topic for a whole other post, considering Cale initially almost seemed to put Choi Han on a pedestal as the hero and protagonist of the story.

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: for as long as it takes

I'm having feelings about middle-aged msr + I'm in the mood for angst. That's rarely a good combination. There's a good chance I'll decide to be nice to them later, though! Here, have a little pre-revival ficlet with feelings.

He doesn’t mean to do it. He really doesn’t. It’s crossing all the boundaries they’ve set, but he misses her so much he’s paralyzed with longing. His hands won’t obey his mind. He barely manages to pick up the phone, then hangs up on her with a spike of panic when she answers. He doesn’t want to break the rules. He respects the rules. The rules are their only hope.

She calls him back, but he doesn’t pick up, instead waits for the phone to stop ringing and then texts her “I’m sorry, I’m fine. I just called your number by mistake.” She doesn’t text him back. He drops onto the couch and buries his face in his hands.

He’s managed to get up and stand by the kitchen counter, wanting to make coffee but unable to remember how to move his hands, when he hears the sound of a car outside.

He squeezes his eyes closed and doesn’t cry. He even knows the sounds of her parking her car. He recognizes the specific sound of her closing her car door. Her footsteps outside, and then her knock on the door. “Mulder?” she calls.

His feet begin their walk towards the door, drawn to her like a moth to the flame. He’ll burn himself on her if that’s the only way he can be near her. He even knows the sounds of her unlocking the door. And then she’s standing inside their house—his house—before he’s even crossed the room.

“Mulder,” she says, a look of concern in her eyes.

“Scully,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” She stops, and he has no trouble reading the expression on her face. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know. She couldn’t stop herself from driving out here any more than he could stop himself from calling her. “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you did.” She doesn’t add that she didn’t believe him. That she still doesn’t believe him. He knows her entirely. He keeps forgetting that she knows him just as well.

When she closes the door behind her, she locks them into a vacuum and he can’t breathe. His lungs won’t fill with air. Danger hangs between them, disaster and destruction. “I was going to make coffee,” he says. “Do you want a cup?”

“No.” Her eyes aren’t leaving his face for a second. “Thank you.”

They move at the same time, closing the distance, meeting in the middle. The kiss starts hungry and grows more frantic as her coat drops to the floor and her fingers fight with the button of his jeans. He walks her backwards to the couch leaving clothes in their wake, and then she’s naked underneath him and he wonders how she got even more beautiful since the last time he saw her like this.

He wants to take it slow but he knows time is ticking away. Even as she draws him closer and wraps her legs around him, he can see regret in her eyes and he feels it echoing deep in his bones. This is going to break him and he’ll let it.

She closes her eyes as he pushes into her. That familiar pleased exhale she lets out once he’s all the way inside… it cuts into his heart until he has to close his eyes against the pain. She used to do this every time they came back together, every time they found a moment after life had kept them busy.

“Please,” she whispers, and he rocks into her, feels her hands on his back, her body welcoming him home.

He thought he’d never do this again. He hoped he’d get to do this again. But not like this, not in a stolen moment that will cease to exist after she leaves. It’ll leave him devastated no matter how thoroughly they’ll pretend it didn’t happen.

She doesn’t speak again and neither does he. But she lifts her head, kisses the corner of his eye, his cheek, the side of his neck, and he finds that he’s crying.

Her legs are tightening around him and he snaps his hips forward in short, hard thrusts; he knows what she likes, the sound of her moans tells him exactly what she needs. He doesn’t care whether he’s gonna come or not, as long as she does. If he can no longer make her happy in any other way, he wants to give her this at least.

She fists her hands into his hair and pulls his head up, crashes her mouth against his in a kiss that’s brutal and tender at the same time. She bites his bottom lip, invades his mouth with her tongue, takes him the way he’s taking her with every push into her perfect, tight body. The nails of her other hand are breaking the skin where they dig into his shoulder. He wants her to make him bleed. He wants it to sting after she’s gone.

He can tell that she’s getting close. She’s clenching around him, her heels digging into his ass, begging him to go deeper, and her desperate whimpers rip through every last protective layer around his heart. He’s hers.

She throws her head back and her hands take his upper arms in a death grip as she arches off the couch. She’s coming hard and he fucks her harder; if he’s gonna be feeling this forever, he wants her to remember it too.

His own orgasm hits him out of nowhere, so intense he cries out, his body shaking as he pulses inside her. And for a moment, it’s all real, too real. It can’t end; their love is a law of nature.

She’s panting underneath him and he holds himself up on trembling arms, finds her lips in another kiss. This one is slow and gentle. They’re already broken. There’s nothing left to hide.

They still don’t speak as she pushes at his chest and they sit up, his body throbbing with the ebbing waves of forbidden pleasure.

“I should go,” she says. She’s still breathing hard, her skin is flushed, and he doesn’t have the strength to feel the overwhelming unhappiness that will wash over him in a few minutes.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

They get dressed in silence. He wonders if there’s any way to fix this.

Before she leaves, her hand already on the doorknob, she looks back at him, and it’s the soul-deep sadness in her eyes that gives him hope.

“You know that I love you, right?” she asks, and he nods.

“Yes,” he says. “I know.” He does. That’s the worst part. “I love you too.”

“I know,” she says, and finds a smile for him that’s full of despair.

And then she’s gone, and he hears her footsteps on the porch, hears the closing of her car door, hears her driving away.

He’s cried all his tears for today. There are no more. They’ll come back later. He’ll cry over everything they’ve lost for as long as it takes. For as long as it takes until she’s ready to come home. He’ll be right here, waiting for her. He hopes she knows that too.

---

Optional fluffy part 2 this way

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Safe Haven

max verstappen x reader

note: hope you like it!! drink water and eat healthy

Warnings: Mentions of emotional and physical abuse, angst, hurt/comfort. mentions of j*s verstappen. anything else?

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

Max Verstappen stormed into the Red Bull garage, his fists clenched and his jaw set in a hard line. The race had been a disaster. An unexpected engine failure had cost him a podium finish, and his father's harsh words still echoed in his ears. He needed to get away, to find some semblance of peace. And he knew exactly where to find it.

As he pushed through the throng of team members and journalists, he spotted you waiting by his trailer. Your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, the storm within him quieted. You offered him a soft, understanding smile, and he quickened his pace.

"Max," you said gently as he approached.

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. You could feel the tension in his body, the barely contained rage and frustration.

"It's okay," you whispered, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "I'm here."

Max took a deep breath, inhaling your familiar scent. "I just want to go home," he murmured, his voice muffled against your neck. "I need to get out of here."

You nodded, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Let's go then," you said softly. "We can head back to the hotel and you can relax. I'll take care of everything."

Max managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going anywhere."

The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the silence punctuated only by the occasional sniffle from Max. You reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He glanced at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow.

Once in the privacy of your hotel room, Max seemed to crumble. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. You sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked gently.

He shook his head. "Not really," he admitted. "I just… I can't get his words out of my head. He was so angry, so disappointed."

"Your dad?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

Max nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He said I was a failure. That I'd never live up to his expectations."

Your heart ached for him. You knew how much his father's approval meant to him, and how devastating it was when he didn't receive it. You gently cupped his face, making him look at you.

"Max, listen to me," you said firmly. "You are not a failure. You are an incredible driver and an even more incredible person. Your father's words don't define you."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he took a shuddering breath. "I just… I don't know how to deal with it anymore," he confessed. "It's like no matter what I do, it's never enough for him."

You pulled him into another hug, holding him tightly. "You don't have to deal with it alone," you reminded him. "You have me. You always have me."

Max clung to you, the dam finally breaking as he let out a choked sob. You held him through it, whispering soothing words and stroking his hair.

After a while, his sobs subsided, replaced by exhausted silence. He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude.

"Thank you," he whispered. "For being here. For understanding."

You smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from his cheek. "Always," you said simply. "Now, why don't you get some rest? I'll stay right here with you."

Max nodded, finally allowing himself to relax. He lay down on the bed, and you settled beside him, your fingers running gently through his hair.

As he drifted off to sleep, Max felt a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in a long time. You were his safe haven, his sanctuary. And as long as he had you, he knew he could face whatever challenges came his way.

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

The following morning, you woke to find Max still peacefully asleep, his head resting on your chest. The previous night's tension had eased from his face, replaced by a calm serenity that made your heart swell with love and protectiveness. You gently shifted, trying not to wake him, but his eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"Morning," you replied, brushing a kiss on his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

He took a moment to think, then sighed. "Better, I think. Thanks to you."

You smiled, your hand finding his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm glad. Do you want to talk about what happened with your dad?"

Max hesitated, his eyes clouding over with the memory of the argument. "I don't know," he admitted. "Part of me wants to just forget about it, but I know that won't help."

"Talking might," you said gently. "But only if you're ready."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "He just… he got so angry. He said I embarrassed him, that I wasn't trying hard enough. It was like all those years of pressure and expectations just came crashing down on me again."

You felt a pang of anger on his behalf. Jos Verstappen's harshness had always been a sore point, but hearing it directly from Max made it all the more painful. "Max, you did everything you could. You gave it your all, like you always do."

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's never enough for him. I thought maybe if I kept winning, kept proving myself, he'd finally be proud of me. But it's like nothing I do is ever good enough."

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "Listen to me, Max. You are enough. More than enough. Not because of your wins or your titles, but because of who you are. You're strong, you're kind, and you're resilient. Your father's approval doesn't define your worth."

Max's eyes filled with tears again, and he nodded slowly. "I know you're right. It's just hard to remember that sometimes."

"That's why I'm here," you said softly. "To remind you. And to stand by you, no matter what."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender, grateful kiss. When he pulled back, he looked at you with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion.

"You'll never have to find out," you promised, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

The two of you spent the day together, cocooned in the safety of your hotel room. You ordered room service, watched movies, and talked about everything and nothing. Max gradually began to relax, the weight of the previous day's events lifting as he basked in your presence.

Later that evening, as the sun began to set, Max turned to you with a thoughtful expression. "You know, I think I need to have a serious talk with my dad. I can't keep living like this, constantly trying to measure up to his impossible standards."

You nodded, proud of his resolve. "I think that's a good idea. But make sure you do it when you're ready. And remember, you have every right to set boundaries."

"I will," he said, his voice stronger now. "And knowing that I have you by my side makes me feel like I can handle anything."

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man before you. "And I'll always be here, Max. No matter what."

He pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly as if drawing strength from your presence. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with a raw sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, pressing a kiss to his temple.

In that moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the future didn't seem so daunting. Together, you could face anything. And as long as you had each other, you knew everything would be alright.

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

im half asleep so let me know if there are any mistakes

[trueebeauty]

RUIN ME - GOJO SATORU

Does it hurt?

Of course, it does.

Being forced to watch someone else have everything you want... everything you need... everything they knew you desperately wanted.

It's pretty painful. Would you be wrong to flip the script?

But you could never turn your back on your sister; she was family.

And you shouldn't hate her just because she succeeded.

So you swallowed your hatred, approached her, and offered your blessings as she accepted them with a grating, cunning smile.

But none of the kind blessings that came out of your mouth held any truth, and somehow you could tell she knows.

So would it be wrong of you to…

"Satoru... what are you saying?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

The words sent a jolt through me. "I want this… and you. Having you by my side is all I want."

He closed the distance between us, his presence overwhelming. Up close, I could make out every striking detail of his face - those high cheekbones, the strong jawline, full lips quirked in a knowing frown.

"I- I don't understand–"

"You know exactly what I'm getting at," he murmured, sending shivers down my spine. "I'm tired of settling just so the next person has their happy ending. Shouldn't you be too?"

I felt my face flush hot. Had I really been that obvious?

Of course, I was tired, but I didn't want to ruin my sister's, no, my family's life.

Then again, you thought about it. What had your family ever done for you? What else had your family given to your sister when it should've been yours?

Part of me screamed that this was an unforgivable act against my sister, my flesh and blood. 

But the other part didn't care, consumed by the burning need to have Gojo for myself, to take away the one thing you knew would devastate her.

But doesn’t that make you just her…just like them?

Ceasing the anger, “We can't," I said, trying to reject him, but yet, as much as I knew this was wrong, I couldn't help it. Just being near him set my nerves on fire.

Gojo's thumb stroked along my jawline as he held my gaze. "Maybe once upon a time, those rules mattered," he murmured. "But look at us now– we can choose. I'll force them if I have to."

His eyes shone with a seriousness I had never seen directed my way before. Gojo was always so carefree, so unshakable. But now–, you just didn't know.

"Don't overthink this," he urged softly. "Not when I've waited so long just to get you alone like this."

One of Gojo's hands came up to cup my cheek, calloused thumb brushing over my skin reverently. "Tell me you don't feel the same way," he said, voice almost a whisper. "Tell me, and I'll walk away. You have my word."

I searched his face and found only affection and patience there. He would respect my answer, whatever it was.

And at that moment, I couldn't bring myself to care about the consequences. His embrace was all I craved, moral objections be damned.

Slowly, I shook my head. "I can't lie to you, Satoru. Not about this..." I licked my suddenly dry lips. "I feel the same way."

A look of profound relief and joy washed over Gojo's features. He stroked my cheekbone with such gentle reverence.

Then, ever so slowly, he closed the small distance between us and brushed his lips across mine in a feather-soft kiss. An electrifying jolt went through me at the tender contact.

When he pulled back, I could see the depth of emotion shining in his eyes, everything he felt was laid bare. At that moment, I knew I was forever lost to this man.

Let them condemn me.

"No more hesitations and no turning back. You're mine now," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." With trembling hands, I pulled him closer, savoring his warmth, his scent, his very being. 

Tonight, we would be each other's ruin, and I couldn't wait to fall.

[melanieph321]

Can you write one for Kenan and can you make it in two parts

P.s I hope you have a good day

I made it a three part baby, just for you ❤️

10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 4)

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Deal Breaker Part 1/3

PART 2 PART 3

Summary - Reader meets Kenan during dinner at house.

Enjoy! 🤭

The sun had gone down by the time your best friend Tati pulled her car up to your house. The lights were on in the dining room, meaning you were late for dinner.

"So, are you coming to the concert tonight or not?"

"Not, and that's my final answer."

"Oh, come on, Y/N. This is Arctic Monkeys we're talking about. We've had these tickets for months."

You shrugged in your seat. "Sell them. I don't care."

"You don't care?" Tati's eyelash extensions batted vigorously at you. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that Marco and his friends are also going to the concert?"

Your silence was evident.

"Oh, come on, Y/N. Marco is a piece of shit that broke your heart two weeks ago. It's time to move on, and you can do so by joining me to see Arctic Monkeys tonight."

"I don't know about you, Tati. But two weeks is a short time to mend a broken heart. I'm not going anywhere tonight, and that's final."

"Come on, Y/N."

You got out of the car despite Tati's protesting shouts.

"Don't make me go alone! How lame would that be."

"Sell my ticket!" You shouted over your shoulder. "Or better yet...." You snapped back around once you were halfway up the driveway. Tati was hanging out of the car window, the engine still running. "Just give it to someone else."

Your best friend did not look convinced. It was hard for her to get a hold of those tickets, and she'd be damned to give up on you without a fight. "The concert starts at midnight." She spoke softly. "I'll come by to pick you up at eleven. Be ready."

"Tati." You sighed hopelessly, watching her car speed off into the abyss.

You were really not in the mood, which made the remaining walk up the driveway a torture in itself. Once inside of the house, you were met with music playing throughout the chandelier lit villa.

"Honey, there you are!"

A pair of heels made their way out of the dining room and into the hallway where you stood. Your mother, dressed in an expensive dress with expensive jewelry to go with it, greated you with urgency. "Did the library change its closing hours? What took you so long?"

You shrugged out of her manicured hold of your face as she inspected it. She was devastated to see a shimmering nose ring still hooked into your left nostril, after you vaguely promised to remove it in time for dinner.

"It doesn't matter." Your mother waved dismissively. "I've laid out a dress for you to wear in your room and make sure to tie your hair up with that blue ribbon that I like." She leaned forward, sniffing you down with her nose. "Have you been smoking?"

"What? No mom."

"It's that friend of yours, isn't it?"

You rolled your eyes and headed for the stairs.

"I want you back down here in ten minutes!" She instructed. "This is a very important dinner for your father."

Weren't they all.

Once upstairs, you dipped into the bathroom for a quick shower. Your dad was having an important investor over for dinner tonight, and as always, he wanted all of the family members gathered to watch him work his magic. Or, in other words, watch a grown man kiss up to another grown man in hopes of receiving money for some lucrative real estate project.

You had attended a hundred of these dinners before and knew how to play your part well.

Your mother, whose job was to entertain the investors wife with talks of fashion, cooking, and other feminine occupations. She had gotten so good at this that it was almost impossible to tell whether it was all an act or not. Perhaps this was the exact reason why you feared becoming like her.

Your job was to simply entertain the investors' family members, their kids, usually your age or younger. You were supposed to find common interest like sports or music, seemingly to create an relaxed atmosphere around the table so that your dad and the investor wouldn't feel too guilty about engaging in talks of business amongst other dinner guests. This could only work if everyone played their part, your dad remind ever so often.

"There she is!" Your dad rose from the table as you entered the dining room, pampered and dressed up, ready to play your part. "A beauty, isn't she?"

"Beautiful indeed." The man sitting opposite your father nodded. He must be the investor, judging by his slick back hair and piercing gaze that seemed hard to shatter.

To the left of him sat a boy your age. He had previously been engaging in a vivid conversation with your mother, seeing as she had no one else to talk to. The investors hadn't brought his wife, just the boy, whose gaze lingered curiously on you as you took your seat around the table.

"You look lovely, honey, really." Your mother said, with that fake smile of hers. In reality, she was furious that your piercing was still attached to your nose. It's not that you forgot to take it out. However, doing so was just too painful. And seeing your mother flush with embarrassment for her only child was probably going to be your only entertainment for the night.

Or so you thought.

PART 2 PART 3

DON'T MISS - 10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 1)

(DAY 2)

(DAY 3)

[sports-on-sundays]

marc and reader breaking up bc of too many arguments and him being super sad

arguments / Marc Guiu / Part 2

Summary: Marc x female!reader - Marc is devastated because of the break up.

Warnings: implied depression, foul language, angst, mention of screaming, anxiety, mention of crying, angst, nausea

Requested?: Yeppers

Author's Note: Link to Part 1. There was another request that led up to this really nicely so I decided to just connect them as a part 1 & 2.

Marc Guiu stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom at two o'clock in the afternoon with the windows closed and the lights off, feeling like it's two o'clock in the morning.

You can't keep living like this, Marc. What's done is done. You said what you said. There's no way to fix it. Just move on.

But I can't.

I can't stop myself from loving her.

Pathetically enough- and Marc would admit in an instant that it is thoroughly pathetic- ever since that fateful day when she cut it off, his days have been a haze of football, sleeping, every so often forcing himself to eat and drink water, and doing what he's doing right now: letting the two sides of his thoughts argue with each other.

No one cares if you love her. She's done with you. You messed it up; it's your fault; oh well.

There's no way to fix it.

Just move on.

But no matter how much he tells himself, over and over, to just do that, it's like he can't.

It's like the picture of your lovely face is imprinted on the backs of his eyelids, so every time he blinks, every time he sleeps, you're there, looking like the angel you are, reminding him of how much he messed up.

"Ah!" he yells, tugging at his hair. "You idiot! You ruined it! Everything! She was the best thing that ever happened to you, and you fucking messed it up!

"You pathetic bastard! Get up and live your life! It's done! She's moved on and is probably happier than ever! Why are you letting her control you like this?"

On top of it all, he's been avoiding Gavi like the plague, knowing that you one hundred percent likely told him everything, all from your perspective, and knowing because of that, now Gavi probably hates his guts, too.

So, yeah. He's been avoiding Gavi and anyone close enough to him to have also heard. So Pedri is also off limits, and Ferran and João are iffy.

It's hard when he trains or plays with these guys nearly every day!

The only person he's told is Héctor, mostly just because he pried it out of Marc enough. He got annoying enough.

Ah, you idiot. Quit crying.

You're not going to let that girl ruin your life like this.

"Maybe he's not the only one who was in the wrong."

"What?" you ask, looking up at your best friend, Gavi. "What do you suppose I did wrong?" you ask, not too happy with this sudden statement from him.

Gavi shrugs. "I'm just saying, maybe you should've heard him out before it escalated so much. I don't know, though. What do I know?"

But you frown. "Probably nothing, but it still makes me think."

"Gee, thanks," he says, rolling his eyes.

"I honestly don't care, you know. It's fine. I don't want him back."

Gavi's lips purse as he says, "Then why do you bring him up every single conversation?"

You don't have an answer for this.

"Exactly," Gavi comments with a slight roll of the eyes. "Listen, I'm just saying- Marc isn't himself at all since you guys broke up. He's a shell of himself, and refuses to talk, honestly, anyone but Héctor, if he doesn't need to."

You frown. "I know, but..."

"All I'm saying is maybe he had a point."

"What does that mean?"

"It means if you're going to date someone, you've got to give stuff up for them. Including time and attention. And you were giving far more of that to me. I'm not saying you should get back with him; do what you want. But I am saying it's probably best to make amends, and not just let the last note of the symphony be screaming at each other, yeah?"

You lick your lips nervously. "I'll think about it."

Marc can see Héctor is staring at something behind his head, but before looking leans over to ask, "What is it?"

"Um," Héctor smiles nervously. "Y/n."

Immediately, Marc's eyes widen, reminding Héctor of a frightened rodent. "Please tell me you're joking."

Héctor gives a short shake of his head 'no.' "With Gavi and Pedri," he practically mouths.

Marc leans back, trying not to look easy to notice. Trying to look discreet. "Is it safer to leave or stay?"

"I reckon stay," Héctor responds.

Marc softly blows a raspberry, before looking down at his food. "My luck, I tell you," he murmurs.

"Sometime soon, you knew you'd run into her."

"I hoped not."

Héctor sighs. "I know."

Marc feels his anxiety rise when he watches you walk pass. Tossing your hair, with the sway in your step, confidence radiating off you.

He sinks his head down lower, nervously curling his napkin.

And then, as you're walking back, it's like something else takes control of his body, and he can't help himself but look up at you.

Your eyes meet.

Yours widen for a moment, and your steps begin to slow.

Marc is suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, and he says suddenly, "Héctor, let's get going now."

And you watch Marc and Héctor walk out, away from you, just like that.

But there was something strange in Marc's eyes.

Sorrow.

Loneliness.

Confusion.

Defeat.

But most of all, regret and guilt.

And seeing him like that makes you feel... strange.

You're not sure if you like it.

Shadows, passing in the night. Wind, come and gone. These mysterious concepts. A lonely boy and a confused girl.

Hands in his pockets, head down. It's become the natural stance for him. His hair has grown out and shadows his inky brown eyes. So many emotions that they're gone.

Imploded.

She holds her head up and flips her hair. Sharp tongue, quick remarks. Little glimmer when she winks. Confidence is key, but there's one thing that nags at her.

She wonders if it was all a mistake.

Their eyes meet on a dark street in the middle of a cool night, when neither of them should be out.

They both open their mouths to speak, but sound comes out of neither of them.

He reaches his hand out to her.

If he could fall into her arms, he would.

But the shadows shift, and she's gone. The wind carries her away. Like a secret not meant for his ears. Like a promise broken. Like glass that shattered but never made a sound.

Never hit the ground.

On a concrete wall, the side of a building, he writes with a Sharpie:

I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I still love you.

I need you to come back to me.

On a bathroom mirror, she writes in blood red lipstick:

Why can't I forgive him? Why can't I let him forgive me?

Why can't I let myself love him?

[dropthedemiurge]

Second part of my translation comments (and half meta) for Gray Shelter [Episode 5], you can find the first post here!

"You gave the choice/decision to me, didn't you? (reference to the earlier scene)" "So your decision is to give me some money and tell me to get out of your sight?"

꺼져 is quite a rude word, like 'get the hell away from me', Yoondae is clearly pissed rephrasing/interpreting Soohyuk's intentions, he's using informal tone too

"Because I live like this? Because I idle/fool around here and there without doing anything, not able to get myself together (cannot get a grip on myself and my life)? Because you still see me as a child?!" "Yes. That's why I'm confused. Because it doesn't matter who is by your side (anyone will do), right?" "And (what's the problem)? You can be by my side. Why is everything so complicated for you? Just... (in softest pleading voice) ...Watch me. I will live like all the other people. Then it'll all be good (it's solved), no? You can watch over me while being by my side. Mmhm? Don't care about the situation, once again I'm telling you, just look only right at me."

I actually really like the usage of 'focus on me' in all the sentences because the translator keeps the leitmotif and it works in all contexts, the entire conversation was translated nicely. Even "- What's the most difficult thing about me and this situation for you? - That I'm your home (the place you return to now)."

I just gave you more literal translation... idk, for fun xD Maybe you'll catch more nuances that I tried to put in here. It's just devastating. Soohyuk sees and feels that Yoondae is clinging to him like to a lifeline, and he doesn't want to be one, he's got enough of people burdening him, his life is hard enough.

He tried to think simply like Yoondae and just live in the moment, give in to his impulses as well, but he just can't. He's sinking on his own and he can't chain himself to another person because even if he's a safe place for Yoondae, he won't be able to save him in this situation, it means they'll both drown. Yoondae has to find his own ground to stand on, he has to get a grip and find a new home on his own so he won't circle his entire life and attention on Soohyuk. Only then it'll work.

"If I find another home, can I call you? You won't avoid me then?"

They don't kiss here – they can't. It won't work. But such short distance is a promise, it's a possible future happy ending hanging between them both like a life vest and a heavy rock.

I'm not sure he means it as 'we get together again'. More like

"If we meet again, will we become okay?"

Like, they agreed it won't work out now, they need some time, and Yoondae now will be holding onto that hope that Soohyuk might accept him and his feelings once Yoondae finds his own home, his own meaning in life. But he's still afraid it won't happen, that's why he needs to hear some affirmation. Will things between them become alright (and the fact that he doesn't really say 'better' or 'good', he uses 괜찮다 - fine, alright, okay and asks if they will be able to even reach that). Which means they both know their relationship is less than 'okay' now.

And in a very Gray Shelter melancholic satisfying-unsatisfying way, Soohyuk only replies: "It'd at least be better than now."

That's the only thing Yoondae is left with. This, and a daring request to pretend he didn't steal that goodbye kiss.

And we're getting a time skip which starts on a sound of a ringing telephone. ("If I find another home, can I call you? ) And surprisingly, it doesn't seem that Yoondae is the one calling this time, as he wanted to. It seems like Yoondae accepted the call but he wasn't holding it or answering, yet Soohyuk called him and invited him for a dinner and is waiting for the answer. Now, the decision is up to Yoondae.

There is a calendar on the wall but I honestly didn't track if there were any other calendars in the show so we can tell how long was the time skip.

"Alright. I'll be waiting."

To be honest, in the ending I wished they showed at least one scene of Yoongdae coming home in a work-like uniform or doing something to indicate he started sorting his life out before that call came through. Because even though the ending is hopeful – they lived separately for some time, Yoondae has his own place, Soohyuk is reaching out to spend time with him now and they both agreed their next meeting will be more hopeful – but will it be enough? Was the problem actually solved?

We all should think that yes, but I wish the ending supported it a little bit more confidently. After such a rollercoaster of emotions and complicated situation, I want to see them heading towards the truly happy ending Т_т (give me the second season!)

In any case, the acting is great and the melancholic atmosphere for a BL was so unusual, I loved the edgy dialogues and emotionally raw writing. For such a short story, Gray Shelter certainly will go under many people's radar but it still touched my soul.

And, well, now I understand the title. Soohyuk is a shelter, he shouldn't be a home. Shelter is a place they seek temporarily comfort in when they have nowhere else to go. And it's not a bright happy couple place, and it's not an abusive family house either, gray is neither black nor white. It's something in between, and it's up to Soohyuk and Yoondae to try and build an actual equal bond, have a place to return to and person to eat dinner with.

[that-one-pizza]

DP & Wolverine short fic. Hug?

This takes place on the walk home right after Deadpool invites Wolverine to come live with him. Dp has a genuine request.

Also on Ao3! (/ /) <- Punctuation indicates Dp breaking the fourth wall.

---

Walking out of the neighborhood they had so graciously devastated by their attempts at fighting off a horde of regenerating, smack-talking, red ninjas was gloriously uneventful. The sound of firehoses spraying, the smell of drying blood, and police chatter began to fade as the two heroes departed, heading towards the general direction of Wade's apartment. (/I could so call Dopinder to pick us up, but then I'd miss my chance!/) <- He'll be sure to pop in again just like that.

Deadpool clears his throat, "Hey, uh, Wolvie?"

"Hm?" the man in a hoodie and yellow pants answers, not breaking his stride. Dogpool trots loyally at their heels.

Wade stops, the bottom of his boots scraping the pavement and places his hands together, entwining his own fingers. This causes Logan to halt as well, beginning to wonder what was so important that they had to stop their trek back to the apartment.

"Today's been a lot, obviously. I mean, we've seen other cinematic universes, experienced the joys of the desert, you lost your top and your tits were out for the whole world to see and I know you've been terribly dehydrated for approximately 3 days, thanks Hollywood body standards." He's written in that last bit himself. Great.

"And, as men, we are incredibly emotionally stunted, and you can stab me in the chest for asking this: but I implore you, with the upmost respect, and desperation, along with the incredible willingness to beg for hours and hours the likes of which the reader has never experienced before (/even on Wattpad, you little freaks/)," he takes a breath, "…can I hug you?"

He sounds completely earnest, if a bit pathetic. Logan takes a moment to study the man with brown eyes that seemed to soften as he spoke his request, contemplating whether this was some ridiculous ploy to get overly touchy with him or to spring a sneak attack.

Finding Wade wearing a small hopeful smile, patiently standing with his hands clasped, and quiet as if holding his breath, Logan resigns himself with a sigh. It's been a long, emotional (though, he'll only admit it when he's 10 bottles down and forgets where he is), and painful day of literally saving the universe and he wants nothing more than to crash on Wade's couch. A simple hug between heroic partners wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"If you grab anything, or make inappropriate comments, I'll cut your damn head off," he says, though there's no true venom behind his claim, and lazily opens his arms.

In an instant, Wade closes the gap, eliciting an 'oof' from the other. The merc wraps his arms tightly underneath Logan's and practically nuzzles into his neck.

"Alright, bub. That's enough," Logan pats Wade's back. "C'mon, we gotta--"

He's cut off by Wade making strained noises, clutching him tighter, and attempting to lift the shorter man off the ground.

"Wade."

"…yeah?" He struggles out.

"My bones are made of metal," Logan supplies.

"Doesn't matter!" He tugs, only slightly elevating the other's heels, "I can totally do this! I'm gonna recreate the damn Notebook(TM) scene if it kills me," he readjusts his stance and heaves again. "Oh glorious Ryan Gosling, give me your Kenergy! HYAH!" There's a sharp crack and Wade drops his arms and slumps.

"That was your back, wasn't it?" Logan deadpans.

"I uh-," Wade twists his torso away. "Have no idea what you mean. I'm just taking a bit of a break!" /nice/ his yellow text box supplies. He rights himself with another loud crack, "YEOWCH! Ah, see! Good as-"

He's cut off by two large arms sweeping under his own, tightening around his lower back, and suddenly being lifted off the ground with a yelp.

"Like this?" Logan smirks, tightening his hold, looking up at the merc. That hairy man is a bit of a flirt, after all.

Instinctively, Wade lifts one of his legs at an angle and grabs the other's shoulders for stability, as if he'd need it.

(/Any excuse to grab those honkin' chunks of meat!/) Would you get out of my text and let me narrate it?! (/…yeah go ahead-- Wait! My turn to speaky./)

"Oh, Wolverine! So strong, so heroic!" Deadpool fawns, holding his hand to his own face, mimicking a womanly voice. Adding a slight growl to his voice, he then says, "Come here, my scrumptious Honey Badger," and ducks down quickly in an attempt to catch the other in a kiss.

Just as quickly, Logan reacts by completely releasing his hold and stepping back, allowing Wade to comically fall smack down on his face with an 'ack!'

"We're not doing that, bub," Wolverine grumbles, beginning to walk away.

"Yet!" Deadpool lifts his upper body off the ground, holding up his pointer finger. "There's a 'yet' buried under all those grunts! It's okay, my darling, I'll treat you just as sweetly until we do! And when we do, ohoho boy, sparks will fly!" Logan continues his walk away from the man lying on the pavement. Dogpool takes interest in the dropped man and begins licking at the side of his face. "Fireworks!" Wade finally gets to his feet, in pursuit of his partner, "Balloons! Confetti! It'll be on national news and Chappell Roan will sing at our wedding! It'll be the biggest LGBTQ win the MCU will ever have! I already have the arrangements picked out…"

Deadpool continues his yapping in pursuit of the Wolverine, chasing his dream of finally becoming mainstream official with the metal-clawed Canadian.

(/By the way, I totally coulda lifted him ;P/)

[tokoyamisstuff]

Yuanfen

(n.) a relationship by fate or destiny; the binding force between two people

2k. words | Alexander Anderson x gn! vampire! Reader | soulmate AU | angst | blood and injury | enemies to lovers

It seemed like yesterday Before it washed away Hey don't wait for me there Just find your own way Hey don't wait for me there Cause I'll be there soon enough

- FFDP: Crossing Over

"Lovely moon isn't it? Unworthy abomination..."

That voice...

You could hear the heavy thud of boots creaking on the floor, until the shadowy outlines of an imposing man came into your field of view. He was standing there menacingly, covered in the blood of your allies and with a manic grin stretched across his face.

"But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are Gods servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment to the wrongdoer. (Romans 13:4)" He forms a cross with his bayonets, the thrill of a promising battle making him rejoice. "Amen!"

You're frozen in place as the dim moonlight reveals his features. Tears of blood form in the rim of your eyes, unbelieving to the familiarity of it all.

As soon as Anderson takes a proper look at you, he is hit by a raw emotion he couldn't quite decipher. For a split second he is overwhelmed by fractions of memories invading his mind, both foreign and familar at the same time.

He manages to pull himself together, the grip around his weapons tightening as he sneers in disgust at your ridiculous display. "Ah c'mon, whining at your imminent demise? Pathetic."

The internal turmoil inside of you was apparent, yet he was mistaking it for cowardice. "I was told the Hellsing vermin put up more of a fight" he taunts, approaching you with firm steps. "I'm here for a challenge. So come at me, fiend!"

You choke on a sob and the priest is shocked at the pang of guilt the sound rips through his chest. "Sorry to disappoint..." Your voice is low and defeated, sniveling slightly as you turn around. "...but I'm not going to fight you. Farewe-"

A bayonet hits the wall right next to your head but you don't even flinch, just stare at him in a mixture of numbness and exasperation.

"Never turn your back on an enemy" he warns with that authorative voice of his, "I'll enjoy myself one way of another...so if you don't want me to tear you apart to get my fill, you better fight back."

Some things never change, huh?

His violent temper had always caused you nothing but trouble, but usually you were never on the receiving end of it - rather being the only method to calm him down.

Meeting him again like this was devastating. You always knew he'd be reborn and cross your path eventually, since your fates are eternally intertwined...

...however those circumstances are just too cruel.

Maybe it was punishment by a wrathful god for your transgression of becoming a creature of the night.

"You really are the bane of my existence, you know that?"Wiping your tears away you try to regain your composure, taking on a defensive stance and waving him over. "Then so be it."

Anderson narrows his eyes at you, the gears in his head visibly turning. "Have...we met before?" You certainly acted like it. Yet on the other hand he had a reputation among your kind, being feared in all the underworld.

No. Instilling fear in his victims was his daily bread, and it was certainly not what was driving you. No matter how he wrapped his head around it, your behavior didn't make any sense.

"Yes and no." You sigh, scoffing bitterly at his question. "Hard to explain, but in a certain way we did."

That cryptic answer left him visibly irritated. "You're just playing some mind games" he hisses the accusation, "Stalling for time until reinforcements arrive, aren't ya?" Deciding to stop falling for your traps, he lunges forwards for a straightforward attack.

The assassin lands several blows, leaving you astonished by his superhuman abilities. He's as skilled as you remember him, but today's technology truly rose him to another level against the undead.

"Stop holding back!" Anderson growls as you block yet another of his strikes, having done nothing but dodge instead of fighting back. You mutely shake your head but his wrath is unyielding, amplified even by the invisible pull he feels getting stronger the closer he gets.

At some point he's worn you out enough to land one fatal assault, one bayonet impaling your shoulder, thus effectively pinning you against the wall. You almost peacefully close your eyes, awaiting for him to finish what he started but instead he keeps his distance, staring at you like you were a myth yet to unfold.

For him to sink so low as to get confused by some wicked temptress...just thinking about it makes his blood boil. The priest curses under his breath, countless prayers dropping from his lips to ground himself.

"Did ye put a spell oan me?" he ultimatively asks, accent growing thicker with the weight of those confusing feelings. You chuckle, not meeting his eyes and instead try to pull out the steel from your flesh. It's made of consecrated esilver, burning deeply into your palm. As you let out a pained whimmer he's instinctively compelled to help you, reaching out but stopping himself just in time, outraged at the contradiction of his thoughts and actions. "...anwer me, demon."

"I'm not capable of such feats" you explain almost callous, but he looks at you with a stubborn incredulity. "I think we both know your spirit is indominable, papist." Oh, you've witnessed many try and fail before.

With him being so close now you clearly see his cleric collar, stifling a laugh at this irony of fate. "Counterquestion, why would a man of your calibre chain oneself down through religion?" Your tone was derogatory, and yet laced with an incredible forlornness.

"It's necessary." He wonders why he even bothers responding. "There are men walking this earth that need to be restrained in order to remain human...monsters like you would never understand."

Oh. Things really came full circle. Everything is the way it always used to be...

...except your presence in his life had been replaced by a greater force.

"So you seek solace in faith because you yourself are beast that needs to be caged-" Another bayonet hit your stomach, making you sputter blood. Furious emerald eyes bore in your crimson ones, his face only inches from yours as he threatens "Do not twist my words, wench. You don't know me."

The sight of blood pouring out of your mouth makes his stomach turn, all those conflicting and alien sentiments raising panic in the usually steadfast man. You on the other hand laugh as you break down, crescending into a mixture of pain and amusement, echoing off the walls like a haunting melody.

"Oh, you'd be amazed what I know..." As your eyes locked, he caught himself wiping the blood from your mouth, thumb lingering on your lips far longer than necessary before he managed to tear himself away from you. "I know that you carry a darkness inside of you that makes you no different from those you punish. You spend your life hunting down the guilty so you'll only hurt those deserving punishment. Because you're afraid that otherwise the bloodlust inside of you will turn you into the evil you sought to destroy. You're terrified, aren't you? About what would happen if you lose control, so you try to reduce yourself to nothing but a tool...since being unfeeling is easier than to carry the burden that comes with being part of mankind."

Then, suddenly, your laughter shattered like fragile glass, replaced by gut-wrenching sobs that wracked your entire frame. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the remnants of laughter, creating a surreal portrait of sorrow.

Countless times it was you that kept him from committing a severe mistake in the past. And even if you failed you stood alongside him in the aftermath of his destrucive frenzy, vowing to love him despite all of his shortcomings.

It's part of his nature, after all, necessary for the deed only he could fulfill. In order to defeat a monster, one has to cast aside their humanity as well.

And until now you thought that it was the sole purpose of your existence, being one thing that kept this behemoth on the side of light and righteousness.

Anderson is stunned into silence, backing away from you still writhing against your tormenting confinements. He gulps harshly around the lump forming in his throat, fists clenched tightly as he wrung out "Just...who are you?"

There was a long pause of silence before you were able to respond again, bottom lip trembling as you spoke.

"Alucard used to tell me about his mortal foe, his equal...a man that's seemingly put on this earth again and again justto rid the world of the No-Life-King." Your words sound almost like flattery, but they were obvious nonsense, at least that he told himself.

Cracking a saddened smile, accepting of whatever he plans to do to you, your voice is barely above a whisper as you confess "...and 46 years, 7 months and 3 weeks ago, I mourned that very man's death."

Neither his birth date nor any other information was known about the paladin, but the age you stated was admittedly quite fitting for his physique. He wanted to accuse you of lying, of using dirty tricks with this sfoolish attempt at saving your own skin - but his subconsciousness was screaming at him to spare you.

"Seems like god really cannot afford to let you die..." The sheer devotion in your voice makes him shiver. "I didn't think we'd meet again so early, my love."

You weakly raise one hand to his cheek, the gesture sending shockwaves through his entire system. He is tempted to just melt into the touch, yet instead he rips it away, reminding himself about the insanity of this situation. "What in god's name are you even talking about, woman?!"

"I don't know how many times we've met before I was turned into...this..." your voice cracked and yet your smile wouldn't falter, not wanting him to remember you suffering at his hand. "...but it doesn't matter. Kill me and I swear after I received my punishment in hell, I'll be reborn and find you again!"

"...Y/N?" The name drops from his lips before his mind can catch up on, but there's a flash of recognition on his face, repeating it with a firm lucidity. "Y/N...Y/N!" Your heart clenches hearing your name wrapped in his voice, a spark of hope lighting in your eyes again. "Yes darlin', it's me..."

With a frantic move he tears the blades from your flesh and you collapse right into his arms. The cross around his neck burns against your skin, but you'd hurt forever as long as it means being at his side again.

"I-I..." He visibly switches through several emotions at once, being forced to remember always inevitably bound to suffering. Unable to do more for him you simply pull his head against your neck, soothing him as he allows the memories to resurface.

Anderson's hands tremble as they stroke your face, taking in every detail of your features before engulfing you in a bonecrushing hug. "I'm so sorry, I almost...I-I...I can't..."

"Shh, it's alright" you assure him, smothering his face in kisses as if to make up for all the lost time. "You're back, that's all that counts."

All the hatred he formerly directed at you had been replaced with sheer reverence, the oath of his current life insignificant compared to the bond that transcends the borders of life itself.

Warmth blossomed in his chest as your lips brushed closer, tentatively kissing for the first time - in this life, at least. It feels like home, instantly consuming him in the sincerity of everlasting bliss. His fingers trail across your jaw, a lovestruck haze in his eyes when he repeated the words he told you all those years ago, on his dying bed.

"No matter what, I'm yours forever."

[cartoonsinthemorning]

Why do you like Rung so much

I did ask that to myself often, and had to do some auto-analysis, to reach a conclusion. The true answer is intimate. I will still tell you: I'll exclude personal details, to maintain privacy- but I'm warning you, there is a psychosexual component to it. There's no point in hiding that, after all the erotica I drew of the guy, and you asked, so if you'll cringe I'm not to blame, sweetheart. (So: WARNING, NSFT talk & MTMTE/LL spoilers ahead). Rung is understanding and forgiving. Fort Max crushes his hand and almost kills him- Rung sweetly forgives him, no question asked. Rodimus uses him as bait for a bloodthirsty creature. No grudges about that either. His patients are all some degree of dangerous and criminal, -they could kill him in an heartbeat in the same way they killed plenty others before- but Rung keeps extending his care to them all, no matter how hopeless of a case they are- he listens to them, he gives them infinite second chances. Rung is understanding and forgiving to an unnatural degree. A supernatural degree. He is God, after all. He is the personification of the idealized divine parental love, that knows no bounds or conditions. Years ago. I was suddenly proven a source of love in my life was very much conditional- contrary to what I had used to believe before. It was quite the devastating rug pull. It left a scar. To come across a character so kind and nurturing and forgiving as Rung was extremely comforting, to me. I've obsessed over plenty of characters, before him, but I've never quite understood the meaning of "comfort character", until then. I see a drawing of Rung, and I can't help but smile, and feel immediately a little happier. His sight alone gives me hope that unconditional love can exist- maybe not in the real world, but at least as a merciful human idea we can share through a fictional character. And this is all so pure and sweet, but. I'm a freak and a queer. I saw in Rung this supernatural and divine parental figure, and that activated the neuron. It got me all horny and, even worse, creative. Since, thank God, catholic guilt was never part of my upbringing, I happily and shamelessly embraced those feelings I have about Rung, and called him my mommy and drew him with a pussy and met other weirdos that enjoyed my vision and that was SO MUCH FUN, it only fueled my cathartic adoration for Rung even more.

I would say, that's it, this was your answer. But the truth is, I barely scratched the surface, of why I love Rung. I could go on and on about how important and significant it is, to me, that Rung is also a canonical symbol of anti-fascism. Or how well constructed, charming, and at the same time mysterious he is as a character ( we know SO little about his life pre LL, it's so INTRIGUING). Or just how adorable his quirks are- collecting toys, cleaning his glasses when he's upset, finding the courage to dance at a party- But there would be no point in it. Love can't be explained, actually. It was fun to yap about my beloved favorite character tho, so thank you for giving me and excuse to!

[chaotic-archaeologist]

long time follower, first time asker... i really need some wisdom or encouragement right now. i'm in my 30s and have been working on a bachelor's degree for years, in fits and starts, with a lot of setbacks. (finally landed on history with religious studies minor, but i used to study anthropology as well.) the thing is, i recently watched a guest lecture by a wonderful religious scholar (dr. francesca stavrakopoulou) and she was so... inspiring? erudite? smart? she was incredible to listen to, she seemed so in touch with her field and was able to draw amazing connections and answer questions with references to multiple religions and languages off the top of her head, was able to recommend peers of hers by name for other specialities, it was really inspiring.

but as awesome as she was, after the lecture was finished i was a little devastated because i feel like i will never be able to achieve that level of ease and expertise no matter how much i study. i feel like a fraud, i feel like my adhd is holding me back and turning my brain into swiss cheese. it's already taking me so much longer to get a bachelor's than it should and i'm painfully aware you have to have a PhD to really work as a historian; i feel like i'm so far behind that i'll never catch up and that as i get older i'll just get worse at learning... is this imposter syndrome? am i just struggling with a plateau and need to push harder to reach the next level? am i just not cut out for academia? have other academics also struggled with this? what do i do? :( i love this field more than anything, i have wanted to study people and history since i was in high school. i don't even know what i would do with my life if not this, but i just don't know if i'm completely out of my league and living in a fantasy land or if having a career as a historian is really still possible...

You know what, I'm really glad you asked this question.

I had a very similar experience recently, where I went to an academic talk that was so well done it left me thinking well shit, I'll never be able to do something like that. But you know what? I really do think that's the imposter syndrome talking.

I'm a fan of the four stages of learning. Unconscious incompetence, conscious incompetence, conscious competence, and unconscious competence.

You and I, as upper level students, are maybe somewhere on the cusp of conscious incompetence and conscious competence, which is not an especially comfortable place to be. We're aware of how much we don't know, and when we do things, we have to try really hard to be good at them.

The talks we both watched were given by people at the level of unconscious competence. And you know how they got to that level? By doing a PhD and spending a really long time immersed in the literature. They started their learning journeys earlier, and so they know more than we do right now. Which is normal!!! At this point in our careers, we are not expected to be able to do work like this, and there's a reason for that—we're not ready yet. But with time, we will get there.

(Psst, you know what the biggest prerequisite for giving a talk like that is? It's passion and a genuine interest in your field. You can't learn that, or force it if it's not there. And it sounds like you've got it covered.)

So now I'd like to address your fears of being too old. I totally understand—ageism is real, and it's especially hard in college settings where everyone around you tends to be 1) much younger, and 2) on the high school -> college track. Not being on that track is not a moral failing. The higher education system in the United States is very hostile to anyone who doesn't perfectly fit into the university's machinery. That is a problem with academia, not with you.

I know plenty of nontraditional students who have gotten their degrees at varying ages. When they give you your diploma, it won't have your age on it or how long it took you to get your degree. What matters is that you've earned it, not when. Better now than never. Don't give up.

I would like you to try to do on thing for me: look back through your life and make a list of all the moments where you had an "aha" moment. When you realized this was something you wanted to do for the rest of your life. When you did something and felt good about it. And I do really mean write! it! down! Keep this list (and add to it) so you can look back at it. I pay attention to stuff like this when I write in my journal so I can remind myself during low moments.

Congratulations, it sounds like you're passionate about something enough to pursue it doggedly, even when things are difficult! That's something special that not everyone gets to have. I think you owe it to yourself to do your very best to pursue your dream.

-Reid

[neverpathia]

*drop these and runs away*

2. (Explore) If you have a least favorite Chapter, then how would you go about changing it?

12. (Explore) What's your favorite Voices dynamic?

25. (Explore) What’s a moment in the game that emotionally destroyed you?

nevvey has a PhD in yappanese so this came out too long, oops

2. least favourite chapter

huh. well I know everyone's been answering the greys for this, and I don't wanna be another member of that echo chamber, but honestly I'm kinda struggling to think of my least favourite right about now. the ones that are great are great, and the ones that aren't as great. uh. they're more or less on the same tier if I'm gonna be frank

fine. I'll cave. it's drowned grey. haven't seen her route yet but in all fairness I don't feel like it, not too interested, already know what happens, and am scared of being scared. with burned grey, at least I can respect the themes at play. the extremes of blind devotion playing into callousness. the crossing of boundaries that one has claimed to demolish. violence to fix violence met with violence. hurt intended to cure hurt.

there's at least more of an emotional reaction there, but with prisoner? you're less obligated to feel something for her, I guess. I'm not saying you're not a fucking traitorous scumbag if you slay pris, but I'm just saying that she provokes less pity and sadness than slaying the damsel. drowned grey to me comes off as pure spook factor imo. it's a tale of vengeance, that's it. there isn't as much to explore there.

drowned grey works as a route but it's not as complex as I would like it to be. and that's fine for the game. it works. but it's just kind of there. I wouldn't know how to fix it because the course of events still makes sense, but it's just. underwhelming. I wouldn't do anything about it but only because I have no idea how.

12. favourite voice dynamic

OH COME ON. YOU FUCKING EXPECT ME TO CHOOSE?????

so it keeps teetering between parahero and smittunist but in the end I've just been writing those things out in my head and the majority of how i perceive it is all fanon. it doesn't matter. nix. nada. nothing.

if we're going to talk about in the actual canon...probably still smittunist. it's hilarious how they interact in thorn. oppy being the same bootlicker as always, and smitten just mindlessly swinging behind GASP HOW DARE YOU and OH YOU ARE SO RIGHT FOR REAL, is just kind of golden. but at the same time it's sweet how smitten makes up for oppy's faults here. and at the same time as much as they contrast and you can still tell that oppy hasn't really changed too much but there's still something there and it's still so unresolved but they still manage to put aside their differences and stuff- plus. funny dialogue. it's gold. it's just gold

but at the same time I recently did den, and I think hunted and skeptic's a bit of an underrated dynamic. there's an inherent trust that's obviously there between most of the voices already, but it's especially highlighted with skeptic's plan and stuff. i can kinda hear them as a grizzled old man and the scruffy little creature he picked up on the side of the road and decided to adopt. he taught him that plans matter, yay. he saw him make his first friend (den in rescue), yay. it's adorable.

but then we also have hero and paranoid giving broken a reality check in apotheosis and like. paranoid losing his mind. broken having lost his mind in the other direction. a confused hero being the only sane man. them powering through together as a team anyway. the two gay uncles and the depressed nephew they got stuck with babysitting. I can't-

[rams my fist straight into the wall and splinters all of my phalanges and releases an uncouth yelp worthy of a soprano] I CANNOT. DON'T ASK ME TO CHOOSE.

25. worst trauma

look. all the pristine cut stuff so far was absolutely devastating, and I am specifically laser-focusing on Happily Ever After with that comment.

but the moment that fucking punched me in the gut and had me doubling over was probably, thorn. yeah because she's my wife and we're married and I can't bear to see her hurt and she's reading this over my shoulder right now and she's beautiful and she's resplendent and

specifically, when you descend down the charred remains of the cabin. you hear just how resigned she is. just how tired everything has made her. and you just look, and see how badly she's been wounded. how she's been hurt. all these raw bleeding cuts and scrapes and scratches and scabs. it's so clear how vulnerable she is, and she's truly ashamed. this is what she's done. this is who she is now. this is what she believes she deserves.

and then all the dialogue options that show how much you don't want to forgive her. just as she wasn't able to forgive herself, as much as she's punished herself instead. like. like MY POOR FUCKING GIRL.

and another one for when her grip on the blade tightens... the lingering spite. the remnants of fear. the urge to distrust. she's leaving behind everything she thought she was and it's utterly ASSRRRGGGHH love you thorn.

[utilitycaster]

So to answer why I went with Treviso instead of Minrathous: I went in knowing the following.

You must choose to save either Minrathous or Treviso

This will cause either Neve or Lucanis, depending on your choice, to become upset with you and leave the group for a while, and when they return they will be harder to please and will not use their healing abilities anymore.

Romancing Lucanis is permanently blocked if you save Minrathous, but romancing Neve is NOT blocked if you save Treviso, though it’s harder

If you are a Crow or Shadow Dragon and save the other city the faction and the character will be particularly angry.

Lucanis and Neve will, if you don’t romance either of them, enter a relationship with each other, which intrigued me.

I also had read Tevinter Nights (has Neve and Lucanis stories in it) and listened to Vows and Vengeance so I had like, an outline of them as people, and I was aware of Spite as a concept.

Anyway. You see both Minrathous and Treviso before the attack, and at the time I did prefer Treviso (Minrathous city of fucking ladders) though I liked both. Because I knew Lucanis was far more broken up about the loss of Treviso than Neve would be of Dock Town, I had already decided on Treviso. I also do find Lucanis's argument more compelling, ie, Treviso will fall without help whereas Dock Town has people to fight.

I also, despite some things I've said in the past, don't dislike angst provided it comes with real tragedy as well, and so on some level it was very much a situation of "oh, I'm finding Neve EVEN MORE COMPELLING than originally stated, which was very? let me put her through the wringer." Like, again, hardened Neve is much less brittle - she doesn't break like Lucanis apparently does, she just grows colder, and she feels, for a long while, more justified in her cynicism. (I also think that women in fiction are increasingly allowed to explore anger or insecurity or self-loathing- and Harding and Bellara's stories are both very much about those - but rarely are women allowed to be both heroic and bitter. Again, I joke about all those plucky gingers with swords from my childhood and how formative they were, and they were! But a lot of the uglier emotions like bitterness and cynicism are still frequently not granted to heroic female characters, and letting Neve immerse herself fully in that for a while feels very refreshing.

As for specifically why it makes a better story, just to move this from the post where I initially mentioned it, I think it's a much more satisfying story for Neve to initially have her worst fears/beliefs proven (you can only rely on yourself, people will let you down, your work will never matter) and then slowly and patiently disproven. I think her notable softening after you work for her trust again hits better if you had lost it. Whereas for Lucanis it never really comes back (also, I cannot stress enough how good Inner Demons is; I believe the corresponding Neve quest you lose with the choice is The Soul of A City and I can't speak to it but Inner Demons is truly incredible).

I'll also note, as I spent more time in Dock Town post-dragon I fell in love with it. The influences are heavily Black Sea region, which has been a longtime personal interest (architecture and vibe is somewhat Istanbul; Neve mentions a Georgian dish, khachapuri) and it also kind of reminds me through the detective story elements and the broad region of The City and the City by China Mieville, a novel I love dearly which takes place in a fictional pair of overlapping cities that are vaguely Black Sea/Balkans coded. But also it's taken a heavy hit but it's nowhere near as bad, from what I understand, as blighted Treviso - Minrathous takes a heavy hit but the result is Venatori crackdown on the Shadow Dragons and increased hold on the city whereas Treviso just kind of collapses. It's much more interesting to have a devastating setback but not hopelessness, and the vibe of post-dragon Dock Town is fascinating (and, to be honest, kind of a big mood). Also the Viper trying to take down as many Venatori as he can before the Blight gets him is fucking metal and a great Mercer role in a game with three great Mercer roles.

So yeah, hard to compare since I've only seen one option and I'm mid-game, but so far the narrative of saving Treviso in terms of the stories of the cities, factions, and characters involved feels much more satisfying.