#and if there’s any time when a story is telling you “what this character is saying is true”

[waynes-multiverse]

Giiiiirrrrrl, I'm back. Finally 😅

(It's been awhile lol We need to catch up in dms 👀)

I was so excited to get into this story, this universe, this character, and, most of all, your immaculate writing 🤓😍 (I finally caught up on all things Tracker, so nothing is stopping me from devouring this deliciousness now 😋)

First of, Professor Goldstein is a piece of work... 😒 I wouldn't blame her for spitting into his coffee every time he calls her sweetheart. But Russell, I see you. She's gonna be so annoyed with him 😂

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name

Ooooh, another professor character paired with some rugged Mountain Man 😏 I'm addicted to those couples. She's all business up front, and he's all party in the back (seat of his Chevelle) 🤪

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said

UGH. The nerve!!!!! Massage therapist????? How about I step on your back with my high heels, bro...

And then to go on about his trip and parasailing... Guess it's true. Ignorant people are happier 😂

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

Or why are campuses so big in general? My university actually had several faculties strewn throughout the city. Sometimes it took an hour and several subway rides to get to your next lecture 😅

and these heels were killing your feet.

She needs a pair of sneakers in her purse. Or rollerskates!!! One of those electric scooters? 🤓 (Dory's or Russell's next Xmas present for her would be something like this after they listened to her complain for months lmao)

Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

Please tell me Russell's in the room when she said that 😄🤞

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

Yes, he is. Bahahahaha!!! 🤣🤣🤣

He's gonna love her 😝

Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers.

Ooooh, right! I wonder how much she knows about the Shaws. Not something that comes casually up in the cafetaria I imagine 😅

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile. “I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.” Ugh. Another sweethearting man.

Love this whole exchange. You're making my dreams come true, babe 😘

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh.

Dead 🤣🤣🤣

His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

I keep thinking he probably has that look now because he was in the army for so long. Young Russell was pretty much young Dean Winchester in a uniform (hello there, soldier 😏)

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

Well... It's a toss-up, I'd say 😆

You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

In. His. Car 🚩🚩🚩😂

“Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

If any strange man said that to you... 🚩🤣

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said.

Well, at least, Colter has an Airstream 😅🤷‍♀️

His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

He is a professional flirt. Kind eyes...

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked.

Dear God, he does not stop, does he? 😆 (On the show, I loved his persistence with Reenie too, even though it was mainly just to annoy Colter. But you captured him beautifully here with this sort of charm 🥰)

PS: schmutz, schlep... I love the sprinkles of Yiddish in this 🤓

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

STOP IT! And he upgraded too!!! 🤣

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

I mean... Why not? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ I'm with her on this. Red flags be damned 😂

I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS! Gah, this was fabulous! I'm hooked! 😍👏

Are they gonna stay casual? Something about her brooding and reluctance tells me it's not usually her style? Which means, will he eventually settle? Get out of the dangerous hitman-nomad life? And then there's the stories about their respective families. We already know some about Russell's. How is she gonna react if she learns everything? And there's something odd about her private life as well. Can't wait to dive into that bombshell 😂

Zep, my sweet genius Alex, you've outdone yourself once again. Bravo!!! 👏👏👏

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[requiemforthepoets]

broadway darling 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x sainz!reader

SUMMARY: you and lando never met each other in person despite him being best friends with your brother, but when carlos had dragged him to your opening night, he hated to admit it but he was charmed by you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n in the narrations, photo do not belong to me and all photos are taken from pinterest, inconsistencies of photos, use of y/n on the smau, not proofread, magui, profanities, mean comments, and typos

WORD COUNT: 696

FACE CLAIMS: taken from pinterest

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i missed writing for lando 😭 i made this one shot/smau to appease my broadway x f1 racer agenda in my mind, and since i’m a big fan of les miz and hamilton. though let me know if you want part 2 lol i hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it! this one’s for all the theatre girlies out there (i hope i did you justice 🥹)

It was an unspoken rule that opening nights were sacred in your family. The excitement, nerves, and anticipation of the curtain rising for the first time in Melbourne—it was all part of the magic you had fallen in love with since your broadway debut at sixteen. Tonight was no different, the backstage bustle surrounded you, but you remained calm, dressed in your costume for Fantine, the tragic heroine of Les Misérables.

The makeup team finished their final touches, ensuring every detail conveyed the pain and hope of the character. You took a deep breath, whispering a quiet prayer as the stage manager gave the fifteen-minute warning.

In the plush velvet seats of the packed theater, your family had taken their places. Carlos was flanked by your parents on one side and, to your surprise, his best friend, Lando Norris, by his side. You had heard of Lando countless times through Carlos’ stories, seen him in the occasional instagram post or race weekend interview, but never met him in person. Lando was not exactly the type you imagined sitting through a three-hour musical, but there he was, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, looking slightly out of place but undeniably intrigued.

“I still don’t understand why you brought me with you.” Lando murmured to Carlos as they flipped through the program.

“Because you need culture in your life,” Carlos teased, his voice low to avoid drawing attention. “Besides, it’s my sister. I’m always there to support her.”

Lando just nodded, unsure what to really expect. He had heard of you, of course, Carlos never stopped talking about his little sister’s accomplishments, but he had never seen you perform. Lando wasn’t even sure how someone who belted out ballads for a living would compare to the thrill of racing, but as the curtains rose and you stepped onto the stage, he felt something shift.

When you sang I Dreamed a Dream, the theatre fell silent, and Lando forgot to breathe. He didn’t know much about broadways and musicals, but even he could tell this was something special. There was a rawness in your voice, an honesty that made him feel like you were baring your soul to every person in the audience, him included.

“You good?” Carlos asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Lando blinked and sat up straighter. “She's…really good.”

“Told you,” Carlos smirked, “she’s a broadway darling for a reason.”

Lando did not respond, his eyes fixed on you as you poured your heart into the performance, and by the time the curtain fell and the audience erupted into applause, he was on his feet, clapping so hard his palms stung. Carlos laughed as he nudged him.

“I think you liked it more than me, mate.” Carlos chuckled.

“She’s, uh, really talented.” Lando flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Carlos raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Backstage, you were surrounded by castmates and well-wishers when Carlos arrived, with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“You killed it out there!” He said, pulling you into a bear hug. “Mamá and Papá are so proud, they couldn’t even stop crying.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, wiping a bit of makeup from your cheek. “It felt good tonight.” You admitted, though your eyes flicked curiously to the familiar figure a few steps behind Carlos.

Carlos caught your glance and stepped aside. “Oh, right, this is Lando. You know him, my best friend.”

“Hello.” You said warmly, extending a hand.

Lando stared at you for a second too long before quickly shaking your hand. “Hey, uh, you were amazing. Like, really amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at his slightly awkward demeanor. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it. I never pegged you for a theatre type.”

Carlos snorted. “Oh, he’s not. He didn’t even know who Fantine was before tonight.”

“Hey, I know now.” Lando muttered as he shot Carlos a look, which made you laugh.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Lando,” you said. “Thank you for coming.”

As you turned your attention back to Carlos to discuss dinner plans, Lando just stood there, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, feeling like he had just been hit by a train.

ynsainz

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, lesmizofficial, iamrebeccad, landonorris and 456,736 others

tagged: lesmizofficial

ynsainz do you hear the people sing? 🇫🇷❤️

opening night of les misérables in melbourne was nothing short of magical. i’m so grateful for the chance to bring fantine’s story to life again and share it with the people i love the most. a night that i’ll never forget! ❤️✨

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carlossainz55 incredible, hermanita! Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it ❤️

ynsainz AAAAAHHH LOVE YOU 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad you.are.amazing! GIRL THOSE PIPES YOU HAVE!!

ynsainz rebeccaaa, thank you so much!! i’m glad that you were able to come 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world!!! 🥰

landonorris amazing show last night! first theatre experience and definitely won’t be the last 👏🏻🙌🏻

ynsainz thank you lando! glad that les miz was your first theatre experience. well, hoping to see you again soon! 😆

lesmizofficial opening night couldn’t have been more better, it was unforgettable! you’ve brought fantine to life in a way that will resonate for years to come. the team couldn’t be prouder of you! ❤️

ynsainz thank you, les misérables! 🥺❤️

username1 PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION

username2 carlos wasn’t lying when he said he’s sister a star 🥹 i came for the sainz connection and left absolutely blown away by your TALENT!!!!

username3 an icon, a legend, a queen!!!!!!

username4 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THAT I WATCHED YOU LIVE 😭😭😭😭

username4 I NEED TO SEE YOU ON LES MIZ TOUR I CANT LET THIS PASS BY 😭😭😭

username5 THE MEMES 😭😭😭

username6 THEATRE KIDS UNITE!!!

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f1gossip

liked by username1, username2, username3, username4 and 20,837 others

tagged: ynsainz, carlossainz55, landonorris

f1gossip is there something more than just racing between lando norris and the sainz family?

spotted: lando norris attending the opening night of les miserables in melbourne with none other than carlos sainz and his family just days before the aussie grand prix weekend.

the mclaren driver, who’s usually more focused on the track than the theatre, seemed to be all flirty and smiles as he mingled with carlos’ little sister, ynsainz—the broadway darling herself! rumors have been swirling around ever since lando was seen front and center at the opening night, and now, it’s got us wondering…is there something between the two off-track?

while lando’s always kept his private life under the wraps, this cozy night with the sainz fam is raising some eyebrows. could les miserables be just the beginning? are we seeing a new f1 power couple in the making?

drop your thoughts below! ❤️

view all 18,636 comments below

username7 okay, but if lando is really into her, can we talk about what an upgrade this is from his usual dating rumors? she’s a literal goddess. broadway, west end, and disney??? ma’am.

username8 so lando’s in attendance at les miz in melbourne? okay, that’s cool, but is it bad that i care more about her perfomance than this so-called gossip? priorities, people!

username9 not at all!! everyone here in the comsec acting like they personally know lando or y/n lmao what a bunch of losers

username10 this is a bit of stretch, don’t you guys think? maybe he’s genuinely wanted to be there for support. he’s literally best friends with carlos and close with the sainz, is it now bad to support a best friend’s family member? not every guy and girl showing support or hanging out equates to dating.

username9 SPEAK YOUR TRUTH!!!

username1 finally, someone saying relevant here for once!!!

username11 can we please stop making everything a love story? maybe she’s just being nice and lando’s just being lando

username12 oh you are so sick for tagging the people involved in your nonsense gossip!!! leave them alone!!!!

username13 now why us, broadway fans, suddenly being dragged into an f1 drama? can we just stay away from this and focus on supporting her and appreciating her talent? we don’t need this kind of drama

username14 lol lando is just tagging along with carlos like they usually do! NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE A SHIP NOR A DATING RUMOR!

username15 she’s just probably using him for clout lmfao

username16 i don’t ship it, but if carlos approves, i guess it’s fine

username2 ????? weirdo

username17 she’s been killing it on broadway since she was young. why do people always have to reduce talented women to ‘who they’re dating/involved’ with? do better people, you all are really embarrassing

username18 honestly, i don’t really care who she’s dating. just give me tickets to see her next performance 😭

username3 oh you’re so really for this

username4 why do broadway tickets have to be so expensive 😭😭😭

username5 bank heist plan meeting at my house at 8pm, pull up

username6 time to sell feet pics 😔💔

username19 she’s just gonna use lando for fame just like *coughs* magui *coughs* and besides, she wouldn’t be famous if it weren’t for carlos LMAO what a nepo baby

username7 DON’T YOU EVER COMPARED THAT VILE AND WRETCHED WOMAN TO Y/N! THE BLANTANT DISRESPECT. SHES BEEN SELLING OUT THEATRE BEFORE YOU COULD SPELL BROADWAY. CARLOS MAY BE HER BROTHER BUT HER TALENT GOT WHERE SHE IS RIGHT NOW. SIT THE FUCK DOWN. I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON THAT COUGH OF YOURS.

username8 username7 SLAYED, ATE, DEVOURED, LEFT NO CRUMBS

username20 yeah, i don’t really trust her. she’s probs only interested in lando bc of the clout that comes with being an f1 wag

username9 you DISGUST me. clout? clout??? mary, she’s the one with standing ovations every night. meanwhile, you’re hating from your couch. maybe try again.

username21 LANDO IN SPECS 😭😭😭 HES SO DREAMY 🥺🥺🥺

username10 people out here are tearing each other apart and so close in inciting civil war, while you’re out here commenting lando looks good in specs is so REAL 😭😭😭

username11 the vibe i bring to the function:

username22 the whole comsec got me laughing my ass off 😭 y’all are really bursting your nerves over this gossip that is completely baseless 😭😭😭 it’s NORMAL for him to hang out with carlos’ family and show support to carlos’ family member. like what the other commenter said, not everything has to be a dating rumor 😭😭😭

username12 EXACTLY.

username22 these people need to unclench their asshole. like omfg relax, brenda!

username23 if this is true, i don’t like it. lando needs someone who understands his world, not some theatre diva who’s only there for the spotlight

username13 ???? theatre diva ???? she’s literally been called the voice of this generation, a generational talent. she DOESNT need lando or his world, she has her own. stay bitter, though

username24 why are people so mean? she’s insanely talented and gorgeous.

username14 some people are just really fucking opinionated, like they know lando personally and that their opinions would matter. well news flash, lando wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at you nor date you all. fucking weirdos

username25 welp, this isn’t the comment section that i was expecting at all 🧍🏻‍♀️

username26 is this a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans? 😭😭😭😭

username27 vroom vroom kids vs. theatre kids

username28 this post alone had incited a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans 😭

[strwberri-milk]

Hi could you please write a birthday story with love and deepspace characters where the reader has never had friends who did stuff for her birthday?

me lol - also i combined these lol

Zayne isn't one for celebrations but when it comes to you he wants to celebrate you. When you express your feelings he doesn't want to hold back, asking you what an ideal party or celebration would look like. He follows your suggestions to a T but if you don't have any then he just extrapolates using his knowledge of you and what he knows you like.

He likes to do a simple celebration if that's something you're okay with. If he's personally planning your birthday he generally will just plan dinner or make you dinner and spend the evening with you. It's all about you and you definitely feel it when you're staring into his eyes as he reminds you just how much he loves you and feels blessed to be in your life.

Xavier's confused why your friends wouldn't do things for you, scrambling to try and figure out if there's a way to try and make up for all those missed years. He's not the greatest at throwing parties or doing things like that but for what he lacks he makes up for in heart - and a crazy amount of gifts to try and make it up to you.

He also is partial to a more private celebration but can also be convinced to go out to an arcade or amusement park. The idea of winning more gifts for you seems like a lot of fun to him and he's always happy to walk around holding your hand.

Rafayel's immediately planning out how to spoil you. He doesn't really want to throw a giant party but if you want him to, he'll organise the best one. He'd like to have another day just to yourselves in addition to your party - that's when he'd give you the rest of your gifts. He didn't want to embarrass all your friends after all because there's no way they'd be able to outperform him.

If he throws a giant party then your face is plastered everywhere, reminding people that the evening is about you. You're a little flustered by how much attention he gives you and how he makes sure everybody is wishing you well but the happiness in his eyes is enough for you to suck it up. Your private party is a super intimate affair, candlelit as he goes over why he bought every gift he's presenting you with.

Sylus has a similar thought pattern to Rafayel - his first response is also going to be to correct things. You return to him one day to see a giant pile of things. He brushes off your confusion, telling you that it's simply just one gift for every year you've been alive. He tells you that this is just the beginning - he's got very elaborate plans for your birthday. He's going to ensure that all your future birthdays make up for what you missed out on years piror.

You'd definitely be a little overwhelmed by the splendour he spoils you with, Sylus telling you that he would have done more had he been given a little bit more time. You have no idea what that could mean but all you need to know is Sylus can and will consistently outdo your birthday every year. He'll always take you out on a night for the town though, treating you to dinner at your favourite restaurant no matter what it is and taking you on a small shopping spree to buy anything else you may want if he hasn't already bought it.

[aebinspa]

meant to be

PAIRING: karina x y/n reader

SUMMARY: Your life couldn’t have been worse. You aspired to make a living as a photographer, but instead, you found yourself working in a fast-food restaurant alongside a colleague who rarely offered you any good company. Everything changed when the famous model Karina showed up at your workplace. After a few days, she managed to convince the editorial team to hire you as the photographer for her photoshoot. However, your career faced another threat when Karina pressured you to assist her with a strictly confidential operation.

GENRES: angst, lies, loneliness, we will face suffering in this life, but eventually, things will improve, and we will start over again and again, fluff at the end.

WORD COUNT: 6.9k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! i'm not cut out for writing long stories. i went crazy countless times while writing this one :)) i added a little bit every day and it made the story more confusing. the next five things I write will be fluff, no more angst for a while + thank you for all the support you have shown for what i wrote. i am extremely grateful and happy that someone was able to appreciate them!

Life didn't end when you lost all your friends because of bad choices, didn't know where to put your hands, or stopped recognizing yourself in what you did and said. Life didn't end when you turned twenty. At least that's what you told yourself every morning to convince yourself to get up, when even what had previously seemed sensible lost all meaning.

In the eyes of your parents and your old friends, you had remained imprinted as a sour girl, difficult to manage but who, beyond some character problems, had always shown herself willing to help. Never to be helped. Perhaps this had a powerful impact. In your daily life, no one asked how you were in the morning. Was it more difficult for others to reach out to you and always receive a refusal or was it more difficult for you now to be alone, without anyone? And yet loneliness had always been so dear to you; a space where you could truly be yourself.

After trying to attend political science university for a few months and failing the first exam, you soon realized that it wasn't for you. The only luck was having met a girl who, between one lesson and another, had introduced you to the world of photography.

In photography, you discover a kind of joy that you could share. Often others would ask you for photos and you, with a big smile, couldn't wait to take one. Of course, everything got complicated when you had to come to terms with reality. There was no longer just photography, you also had to think about earning some money.

That's how you ended up working at a fast food restaurant that was open all day and, with the constant fear of running out of money at any moment, you signed up for all the night shifts. Someone had set you up by telling you that they paid more, but only when your first paycheck arrived did you realize that your dear colleague only wanted to get rid of the difficult shifts.

That night, you and Sunwoo, the beloved colleague who had actually made fun of you a few years earlier, were at the counter of the fast food restaurant busy playing UNO. It was more than rare to see customers at two in the morning.

“UNO!” Sunwoo shouted at the top of his lungs. “Fuck you, asshole! I’m tired and you dare win my favorite card game!” you threw the remaining cards of the deck off the counter. Sunwoo huffed and, with an agile leap, got off the counter and went to retrieve the poor cards that were now lying on the floor that was far too clean for the hygiene standards of the place where you worked. “It’s the only card game you know how to play, Y/n”

It was cold outside. A cold that froze the bones. Your winter uniforms didn’t warm you enough and the heating had suddenly stopped working the day before. Sunwoo didn't let it show, but he hated working more than you did. He had a dream more ambitious than yours and unfortunately, every door was closed in his face. The fast food place where he worked with you was the daily confirmation that failure was a constant in his life. And you were experiencing the same situation first-hand.

Sometimes photography gave you work, but you couldn't eat from it. Small jobs are undoubtedly formative, but not appealing to the taste of those big companies that looked at your disastrous portfolio.

While Sunwoo began to sweep the clean floor, you, lost in your thoughts, froze, feelinglessly staring at the street you looked at every night. Suddenly, you saw a black limousine approaching, and, scared that someone important might be there, you shook Sunwoo’s arm and pointed to the car. His eyes widened as well.

But to your surprise, the first person to step out of the car was a man in a tuxedo who then proceeded to open the back door facing the fast-food restaurant. A girl of medium height came out, wearing a black dress that hugged her body in all the right places. When she was closer to the door, you immediately noticed, illuminated by the decadent lights of the place where you were, that she had heavy makeup on her face that beautifully framed her eyes.

The young raven-haired girl sat on the stool in front of the counter. Sunwoo was still speechless. He could only mutter a shy, unprofessional “Ah, hi,” to which the girl responded with a sweet smile. Her gaze shifted to you and you flinched.

“Can I order?” she reached out to grab the menu Sunwoo had sat on earlier. “I guess so.” “The menu with the fattest, greasiest, biggest sandwich you have, please.” Sunwoo snatched the menu out of her hands and shouted “Right away!”, disappearing into the kitchen and leaving you in front of the girl. Outside, you noticed her date glaring at you.

“Not many customers come by, do they?” “We don’t usually see anyone. That’s why your visit surprised us a lot” The girl laughed in a strangely loud way. Strange, I thought she was more composed. “God, please. We will be more or less the same age, don't be so formal,” she wiped her hands on her dress laughing, and then looked at you ready to shake your hand “I'm Karina. It’s a stage name. I model full-time."

You shook hands with her, apologizing for how cold and greasy it might feel. “Well, I… I work here.” The girl smiled at you. “And do you like working here?” “What?”

Sunwoo came with Karina’s order and placed it before her, avoiding her gaze. When he crossed yours, you noticed that the boy had red cheeks. I whispered something to you but you didn’t understand.

It’s been too long since someone asked you what it was like to live a life you no longer wanted. Your mouth dried up and you were unable to answer. Karina shrugged and began eating the sandwich undisturbed.

With her mouth still full from the bite she had just taken, the model opened up to speak. It was evident she was nothing like the stereotype of a typical model; her authenticity was refreshing. Feeling overwhelmed, you moved two stools away from the client, seeking a bit of distance as you listened, intrigued by her unique charm.

"You took those, didn’t you?" Karina found it difficult to eat that part, but she couldn’t help but examine the few decorations in the fast-food restaurant. "Ah, those pictures," you turned your entire body to look at them. "Yes, I took all of them. They’re from our customers who left a special tip." "Special tip?" Karina asked, intrigued. "Yes, for a change of $4, you receive a Polaroid and agree to have it displayed on this wall. It’s not worth much, though, because I’m required to take two pictures for the price of one."

"They are all very pretty. I know some people." "There are a lot of people passing by. Sometimes they tell you their story, take a picture, and then leave, never to return. It’s almost as if-" "Romantic, yes" Karina finished the sentence for you, to your great surprise.

The silence that was created afterward was strangely comfortable. For someone like you who was always uncomfortable when she met strangers, the situation was quite strange. Karina, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease as she was happily humming and chewing at the same time. When the crow finished eating, she got up from her stool, stretched her arms, and put ten euros on the counter.

"Please don't make me change." "Pardon?" "I would like one of those photos. I'm looking forward to experiencing this too." What enthusiasm!

You took the Polaroid and waited for the young woman to pose before taking the picture. Karina made a big heart with her arms and gave you a wink. She is truly a model… "Are you done?" "Done!"

Karina approached you, then stood behind you and waited for the Polaroid to be ready. When she was ready, the girl screamed full of joy. You smiled unconsciously. "I love it, thank you!" she leaned it delicately on the counter and then turned quickly towards you, continuing to talk. "Let’s take the other one! Let’s do it together. Where is that boy? Boy! Boy! Ehiii!" Sunwoo ran out of the kitchen alarmed. "What- what happened?" "Nothing, Sunwoo" You put your hand on your forehead. "Can you take a picture of us? So we can hang it there." Sunwoo looked for your eyes but you avoided him, unable to explain. At which the boy approached the polaroid and urged you to pose. Karina chose the same place where all the other clients had been, saying she would keep the theme, and invited you to place yourself next to her.

Karina was a little taller than you, maybe a few centimeters, but in your eyes there seemed to be a huge difference. You stood closer to her to form the heart and pretended a smile of convenience to allow Sunwoo to take this photo. The proximity to the model sent a bizarre sensation creeping along your spine. Intrigued, you paused to take a closer look at her. In that moment, when no one else was watching, the radiant smile she had worn so confidently faded entirely from her face. Her eyes, once sparkling with warmth, now seemed overshadowed by a deep, unsettling darkness that only amplified her presence. Without warning, the model turned her gaze toward you, her lips curving into a wide grin that revealed a perfect set of thirty-two gleaming teeth. A chill swept over you, wrapping around your body like an icy blanket, leaving you momentarily breathless and disoriented. What the fuck?

"You did such a great job, girls. It's rare for Y/n!" You woke up from the nightmare of falling and responded to Sunwoo with a raised middle finger. "Oh, she's got quite an attitude. I need to leave," Karina said, finally letting go of you after holding you tightly. That girl was beginning to stir strange feelings in you. "The photo turned out just fine. Let me sign it and put the date on it. Come on!" Sunwoo timidly passed the Polaroid to the girl and watched her do everything she said.

With your arms folded you waited for her comfortable finish. Karina approached the corkboard and put your Polaroid on it. He smiled at her and turned, heading for the exit.

"Y/n!" Hearing your name pronounced by the model, you turned to her with an interrogative look. "Tell me" "See you!" and ran off into the limo, leaving behind a trail of expensive perfume and a cheap Polaroid.

That night passed faster than expected and Sunwoo told you - with attached photos - how this fantastic Karina was one of the most popular models in recent years. Besides being beautiful, she was about to debut in the cinema world. The moon was full and the cold was more bitter than usual. An uncomfortable feeling was in your chest, but you let it pass.

While you were going to work the next day, you took some pictures at the illuminated windows of that night. One of the projects you had since moving to that city was to create a collection of photos showing nightlife, although it was difficult to call it "life", of the traders, workers, or people just going out for fun. But you didn’t have enough prestige and money.

When you arrived at work, you greeted Sunwoo coldly, who returned. You worked hard until three in the morning because, as you well know, on Saturday mornings there were waves of guys full of life coming back from bars where they had only drunk, or from discos in the area. You found it a good opportunity to take some pictures for your photo project.

In no time at all it was six o'clock. The sun was beginning to rise and the first rays of sunshine came through the large windows of the structure. You and Sunwoo were getting ready for the end of the shift, but the boy seemed particularly agitated so you told him to leave before you. You would have waited for the other girl to give her the keys and start the shift after. Sunwoo thanked you and ran away. You knew how much he cared about his passion.

The sound of the door creaking open cut through the stillness of the room, jolting you from your thoughts. You glanced at the clock on the wall, your brow furrowing as you noted it was already twenty minutes past the time your colleague was supposed to arrive. Just as you were about to call out, "You’re lat—" your words caught in your throat. Standing in the doorway was not your expected colleague, but the enigmatic man who had accompanied Karina the night before. He stood there, an air of mystery surrounding him, his presence both intriguing and unsettling as he caught your eye.

"How can I help you?" you asked, even though you were pressed for time and the only one in the room. "I was looking for you. It was lucky that I found you right away," the other person replied. You tightened your grip on the broom you had been pretending to sweep with just moments before. "For what purpose?" you inquired.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white card, sliding it across the table to you. You glanced down to see a neatly printed address alongside the name: Vogue, Karina’s Photoshoot. Confusion washed over you as you looked back up at him. "What does this mean?" you asked. He shifted uneasily, avoiding your gaze. "Miss Karina has requested that you oversee her new photoshoot," he explained, his tone heavy with discomfort. "The previous photographer was let go… rather abruptly. I expect you to be at the studio in two days."

Your hands shook as you faced a big opportunity. You nodded slowly, your mouth half open, unsure what to say. The man smiled and walked away, leaving you stunned. The broom fell from your hands and clattered to the floor. Your knees felt weak, and your mind went blank for a moment. You couldn’t think. You wondered how powerful Karina was and what she wanted from you.

The next day you showed up in the hall of the huge palace, waiting fearlessly for someone to come and call you. You had spent the night before reading and browsing photography books or looking at random palettes that could help you match any clothing you found on Karina.

A tall woman approached you slowly, her expression grim as she pointed to a location on the map she had just tossed at you. What a kindness… You quickly walked toward the meeting place and, upon finding the door, opened it carefully. Inside, a crew of about twenty people turned their curious gazes toward you, along with Karina and her manager.

You slowly approached your collaborators and thanked them timidly for their attention. "We will do everything that needs to be done and we will accomplish it together. All we should do is unite everyone’s ideas and give life to some of the most beautiful photos ever made" Karina, sitting in a velvet chair, put her hand in front of her and laughed candidly.

It didn’t take five hours to create everything that needed to be created. The ideas came from everyone like a river in full flow. Fill a room with artists who are also competitive people and you will get the exact personification of an erupting volcano. You were the Vesuvius and the fashion industry was your Pompeii. The next day you swore to finish the project so that you could go on with the production of the photos.

Karina, who should have been bored at least by having spent the day waiting for others to do their jobs, approached you with a remarkable delicacy and touched your shoulder. "Can you come over there?" Karina pointed to a closet nearby; it was her dressing room. "Uhm, sure" There was no reason to say no. You looked over your shoulder before entering the dressing room with the girl with the brown hair. It was the first time you saw her in a suit and all you could think about was how well she wore anything. It must be nice.

Karina invited you to sit in the two-seater chair with her. Hesitantly, you approached and sat face to face with the girl who flashed a smile revealing thirty-two teeth. "I brought you here because—" You interrupted her before she could finish. "Let’s say you fired the photographer from Vogue so I could come here." "An insignificant detail," she replied.

In Karina's eyes, you saw the same darkness you had observed a few days earlier. It made you hesitant to speak, fearing the words wouldn't come out right. "You must help me," she said. "Why should I?" you asked. Karina rose from her chair and stood in the middle of the room, her expression unreadable as she continued to gaze at you.

"You must. And if you don’t, I’ll take the only real opportunity you’ve got in your miserable life off your hands." "What’s the excuse?" the conversation seemed too much for you, so you immediately put yourself on defense. "You are a beautiful girl, you are good at what you do. I like your photos, I am sincere" "But?"

The frigid air enveloped the room, wrapping around you like an unwelcome shroud, making each breath feel laborious and strained. With every second that passed, a chilling sensation crept through your body, as if the very warmth within you was being siphoned away, leaving you increasingly vulnerable to the oppressive cold.

“You must photograph the emerging actress and model Yuna at a moment that could cause a scandal and ruin her career forever.” “This is fucking crazy,” you jumped up and approached Karina, who didn’t move an inch “I’m leaving, I don’t intend to keep this job and do whatever bullshit you came up with. I knew you were crazy, I understood it immediately"

Karina rolled her eyes, grabbed your arm, and pushed you into the seat. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m capable of destroying your present life and your future life. Be careful what you do. Listen to me and calm down” Karina’s hands were extremely cold but your gaze was even more icy.

“Speak then, cheap model” “It will all be anonymous. Become her friend and her photographer. You have one week. The clock runs out before the day you have to send the completed photoshoot to the Vogue editorial office” “It’s called blackmail” “It’s called seizing opportunities. You won’t get them again”

You looked away for a moment before getting up from your chair and moving back to the center of the room. You walked back and forth, occasionally glancing at Karina.

“They’ll kill me anyway when they realize it’s me” “Don’t worry,” Karina stood up to get closer to you, “We’ll use an external computer and no one will ever know” “A person will be involved, I don’t think I’m capable of it” “She won’t die” Karina had an amused grin on her face.

You thought back to Sunwoo and how he loved what he did like no one else. However, the most selfish part of you had surfaced. You wanted to pursue a career in photography, and you were unconcerned about the people who would be affected by your ambition. You would have done anything to make your dream a reality.

“I’m in” You held out your hand to Karina, surprised by your sudden change of heart. When Karina squeezed your hand you noticed it was as cold as yours. And that perhaps you were more similar than you could have imagined.

You never imagined that the next day you would find yourself taking pictures of the woman who had asked you to ruin the life of another model without remorse. You had discovered that all your collaborators considered Karina a sweet, kind, and always available girl, while in your eyes, every time you looked at her, you felt like you were looking at a monster.

Once the photoshoot was over and, therefore, the work you had to do for Vogue, you walked into the Karaoke where Karina had asked you to meet. The room was insolently small - maybe the girl liked everything smaller - and the nauseating smell made you immediately understand what kind of dump it was.

“Don’t you like it here?” asked Karina, who was cross-legged and munching on some chips, which she offered you and you refused. “It’s pretty disgusting” “It’s okay. We won’t be here long”

Karina took her Gianni Chiarini bag and pulled out three photos. One was of Yuna, the other of a girl you couldn’t identify, and in the last photo, there was you.

“What does that mean?” “Yuna is having an affair with this girl.” Karina touched the face print of the girl whose name you didn’t know with her painted nail and then continued. “In case you didn’t understand, your photo is there because I wanted to let you know that I had you followed a week before I showed up at your place of work by a trusted friend of mine.” “What?” you were visibly shocked. “Don’t worry, honey. I will only use the information I have on you if you don’t cooperate.” A disturbing smile made you doubt her sincerity.

“Why are you so mad at this girl?” “Because she can’t keep what’s hers.” “What does that mean translated…?” Karina huffed and put the photos back in her bag. “We grew up in this industry together. We achieved success together. And then she cheated on me.”

You were stunned. “All this just because he didn't hold your hand throughout the journey of your life? Are you crazy-” “She cheated on me countless times. She told my parents that I’m a lesbian, they haven’t spoken to me since that day. And to top it all off, she stopped me from working for a year, taking away the most important collaboration of my life”

You almost felt sorry, but you didn’t say anything. Her eyes radiated something else. Maybe she too was human and was simply tired.

“Become her new fuck buddy. Treat her well and then you can be sure that you’ll end up finding her making out with someone else. Take as many pictures as you can and you’ll be free forever” “I don’t- Who told you I like women?” “My dear friend” “God, fuck Karina” “Um, maybe this collaboration will lead to something good?”

You looked up in shock and found a rather smiling Karina. “Do you start talking about sex when you're done talking about revenge? You’re crazy.” “I can’t help it if revenge turns me on like crazy.” Karina slowly ran her tongue over her upper lip, while you looked at her with wide eyes.

“Are you really… My god, you do this to everyone?” “Everyone who? You’re probably the last woman in three years that I’ve found truly attractive!” You rested your face on the fist you’d created with your right hand.

“Do you feel lonely?” Karina looked at you intently and nodded, gently moving her head. “Me too. That’s why I’ll help you. I see reflected in your eyes the same sadness that I feel." That's what it was.

“Y/n” “Tell me” “Do a good job” “I’ll try”

Karina finished all the chips that were left on the table, while you looked at her intently and prayed that the day you would meet Yuna would never come.

Unexpectedly, you received a call the next day: a very familiar voice invited you to participate in a graphic project that involved twenty different photographers who would take pictures of Yuna during a typical month of hers at the beach. Fans are certainly crazy to buy this, but it's all for the career, right?

Your first encounter with Yuna was ordinary. Where normal means you were struck by how tall and beautiful she was, even though Karina had gotten you used to it well. Yuna walked over to you and pulled you into a tight hug. “Y/n, right? I saw some photos of your portfolio and I loved them. The way you capture what's around is extremely sincere. Thank you for accepting. I am eternally grateful”

Yuna was warm. You noticed it immediately. Her body temperature had nothing to do with Karina's. Yuna's smile, moreover, really showed a sincere kindness. The photos you took were delicate, beautiful, and… real. But you remembered what Karina had told you and quickly came to your senses.

You spent two days taking photographs for one of the most beloved women in the world - that's what the charts said - and on the last evening, Yuna and her manager dragged all twenty of you to a pub.

Yuna, clearly drunk, stood up on a chair and started screaming. “Thank you! You were amazing! This project will come out amazing. Now let’s get our glasses up, we have to celebrate!” As everyone downed a few glasses of beer, you noticed a familiar face looking sweetly at Yuna. It was her girlfriend. You asked the boy next to you to switch seats and, perhaps nodding his head, he permitted you.

"Hi, I'm Y/n" "Ah, nice to meet you, I'm Haseul! Yuna showed me your photos. They're beautiful, congratulations" How cute, I almost feel sorry for using her like that. "I see you're looking at Yuna with sweet eyes… Is there something underneath?" the little laugh you let out right after should have helped break the tension, but it only made it grow even more. Haseul wiped the sweat on her pants and then spoke to you.

"I love her more than anyone else in the world" Ah. "It must be nice to love someone" You ran a hand uncomfortably behind your neck. "It's nice to have someone by your side. We're almost always together. I only have her. After what Yuna went through last year, she's become even stronger" A strong curiosity grew in you.

"What happened to her?" "Her ex-girlfriend cheated on her, Yuna found out and told her parents to shoot her an arrow that would cause her the same pain" "That's not possible" "Plus Yuna lost a very important job with Saint Laurent. She spent sleepless nights because of Karin-" Haseul quickly covered her face with her hands.

"Karina. Are you sure it was her fault?" "Ask anyone you want. She lied to everyone and messed up half the plans of people here just to go out and cheat on her girlfriend. Everyone hates her. She's just a pretty face in this industry"

Your head started to spin, maybe from drinking too much alcohol. “I’m going to get some fresh air!” “Shall I accompany you?” “It doesn’t matter, thanks.”

Outside, on the side of an empty road, you threw up next to a dumpster. Karina had been lying to you. She was evil, she was crazy, and a total dickhead. Everyone knew it but you. Because you had been a normal person until the week before. You had seen the surface, never what was underneath.

You understood that Karina would treat you like Yuna. You understood that the only solution would be to refuse, but your career was at stake.

Yuna came out and walked over to you. “I’m sorry you found out. I know everything. Karina isn’t the only one who can spy on people without being accused.” “Do you know everything?” “From the stupid meeting at the fast food restaurant to the job opportunities she offered you. Her dear friend, aka her manager, is Shin Yuna here’s dearest friend.”

You looked into her eyes. “I’ll have to… No, hurt you. I don’t want to.” I wanted to, but now I don’t want to anymore. “It doesn’t matter. Do it.” “How could I?” Haseul came closer to the two of you. “You can’t hurt us. When you find someone in life who loves you, life has a whole different meaning.”

The cold suddenly hit you. And, strangely, you thought for a second that those two were crazy. “Yuna would lose her job,” you continued “But I will never lose the people I love. And anyway,” Yuna put her arm around Haseul’s waist, “I won’t be in this industry for long.”

Haseul looked you in the eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry.”

As you made your way home, your eyes caught the massive posters of Karina that adorned the streets yet, beneath your admiration, a swirl of conflicting emotions surged inside you; you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was not only a bit unpredictable but also a master of deception. Despite all that, you felt an undeniable urge to kiss her.

The karaoke seemed more rotten than usual. Karina didn’t seem to belong there at all. The last day, the decisive one, had now arrived. You sat down, like the last time, in front of the raven-haired girl.

“Hi, Y/n. I see you well. How are you?” “Better than you can imagine” “My ears only want to hear good news”

You took her usual bag of chips from her hands and started munching on them. “What do you think of your modeling job?” “I hate it” Karina, to your surprise, answered without even thinking for a second. “Why?” “There is no sincerity in what I do. But it is the only job that puts me in contact with hundreds of people a week. It makes me feel less alone”

You put the chips on the table and took out the incriminating photos. “Yuna and Haneul, as you asked me and here I have,” you took out the USB stick, “the murder weapon!” Karina looked at you with wide eyes. “Did you… Do it?” “Your charm won me over, unfortunately, I have to admit it” Even though You were ironic, Karina's cheeks turned pink.

Karina pulled out a computer without making eye contact with you. Then she ordered you to open it. In front of your eyes was a fairly famous site where you were supposed to upload incriminating photos of Yuna and Haseul.

“Y/n. I have to tell you something" As you wrote the description of the photos you would publish immediately after, you signaled Karina to continue.

“Maybe it's because I haven't felt someone's affection for a long time, maybe it's because I can't look at myself in the mirror anymore without crying but…” “After Karina, after” “You said…” “Let me talk”

Seeing Karina so vulnerable and with teary eyes made you feel guilty, but what you wanted to do you would have done without complaining. Karina, however, seemed ready to let go of everything, to take a decisive step.

“Karina, kiss me” “Why should I do that? Are you crazy?” “Last time you seemed intent on doing much more!” you raised your voice. “If I kiss you it’s only because I want to show you how I feel!”

You both were incredibly close. The intensity of the conversation had drawn you from the karaoke sofas, and now you stood face to face, the air feeling thick between you. Karina was the first to make a move. She reached behind your neck, gripped your hair tightly, and swallowed hard. You didn't want to initiate the kiss; you wanted her to take the lead. And that’s exactly what she did. Karina leaned in and pressed her lips against yours, but the kiss was tentative, almost shy. She clearly wanted you to respond, but you held back. The kiss ended before it truly began.

“Why?” she asked, embarrassed. You, in response, checked your phone and went back to finishing the article on the computer. You connected your phone to the computer and transferred the photos.

“What about the USB stick?” “I’ll give it to you as soon as I’m finished”

Five minutes passed before you closed the computer. The die was cast. And so is your life and Karina's. There was no turning back, in any way.

“Y/n?” “Done” “Good…” Karina grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself. You did the same.

“Why did you lie to me?” “What are you talking about, Y/n? “Tell me the truth. Haseul and Yuna told me everything. I also spoke to other colleagues. All the same version. You’re a liar, Karina.”

Karina looked back at you with a blank stare. “And what are you?” “That’s not the point.” Karina slammed her fist on the table. “From everything they told you, did you only understand that I’m a liar?” “How can I trust you, Karina?”

Karina hugged the blanket and started biting her nails. "You know when I'm lying. You can feel it. You know when I’m not natural. I understood immediately when we met that there was a different connection between us." “Do you say that to everyone?” “You’re not funny, Y/n!” Karina screamed and threw the bag of chips in your direction, making a mess in the room.

“It’s not funny to make fun of people. You used me.” “I didn’t!” “So what did you do, Karina? How would you call what you did?” “I tried to keep you as close as possible… I don’t have anyone. Yuna wanted to leave me and I had sex with someone else the next day! Our relationship was over.” “People can’t love you if you pretend to be someone else.” “Everyone abandoned me. They abandoned me when I pretended to be the sweet and kind Karina and when I was the real Karina!”

Karina seemed to have reached a point of no return, but you could do nothing but pity her. Now you just had to tell her your truth.

“Karina, listen to me. Yuna got what she got because she moved on and recognized that love can be found anywhere. Her career is worth a thousand times more than a career like yours that was built on pain. Just forget about this life. Start over again." “The only one I have is my manager. I have no ambitions, I have no love. I just wanted someone to feel the way I do.” “We all fight for something, Karina! I fight for photography and you’ve been fighting against yourself for too long!”

Karina seemed to be furious. “You don’t understand. I’ve been alone all my life! The only one who’s close to me is my manag-” “No, he’s Yuna’s informant. When he handed me the ticket for Vogue, I immediately understood that he was not on your side, Karina”

“Karina” “I hate you. Will you stop throwing the truth in my face? I know, damn, I know I’m alone. I've never gotten along well with anyone. But with you, I had a good time. Time never seemed to end. You’ll abandon me too. You all do the same when I show you how I am”

You turned the computer towards her. “Karina, I posted the photos. Look at them. First, breathe and then rationalize” Karina did as you said, too vulnerable to go against you.

When she saw the article with the photo of you she couldn’t say a word. She just asked you, in a weak voice, why you did it. “We can start over, Karina. They already had everything. In their eyes, I saw what was missing in ours. Rise from the ashes Karina or die forever, it would make more sense than continuing to pretend to live in someone else’s body”

You got up from the room, knowing that the news with the photo of you and Karina kissing would do more harm to her than to you. You shut the door behind you. You turned around. Outside you waited for Karina, hoping she would come out so you could comfort her. But that didn’t happen.

The news caused a scandal. The billboards with Karina disappeared, her role as the lead actress in that new movie was deleted and for more than a month, all anyone talked about was that photo. No one recognized your face; next to Karina, you looked quite bad. Yuna called you and guaranteed that your name and work would remain in the photo book. The Vogue photos were never published. You stuck them up, with Sunwoo’s help, in the fast food restaurant.

Sometimes someone stopped to observe them and Sunwoo took care of answering their questions. Very naturally, he said that Karina loved coming to this fast food restaurant - before it disappeared - and that you were her favorite.

Six months had gone by, yet the ache in your chest refused to fade, a constant reminder of the unresolved feelings haunting you. Each night, you lay alone in bed, tears soaking your pillow, knowing that no one would come to comfort you—and that no one would offer her the same kindness. In those haunting hours, you grappled with memories and regrets, feeling the weight of your sorrow pressing down on you like a heavy shroud.

“What a beautiful day! Life has never been so beautiful!” “Sunwoo, it’s just your first role in a stupid TV series” “A stupid TV series that you’ll watch!”

You and Sunwoo had become great workmates again. This time, you were the one who requested more hours, and Sunwoo, despite having found a second job, had decided to work alongside you in each of them.

Sometimes you look at the street illuminated by the street lamps. You hadn't been able to move on. After Yuna’s photobook came out, your name appeared on many other projects. You had started working with many more idols. But there was no one like her.

“Still thinking about it?” “My mind is occupied with her, Sunwoo” “You couldn’t contact her?” “No one has her number and no one has been close to her. At least I know she’s not dead” “Yeah…”

It was four in the morning on a random Thursday when a black car pulled up on the road and parked in front of the fast food restaurant. Sunwoo let out a scream and hid behind the counter. “Is that the police? What have you done, Y/n?” “Stop it, you idiot, and get the emergency number ready. You never know”

But a woman with blonde hair, no makeup, and wearing a sweatshirt that looked very expensive, stepped out of the car. At first, you and Sunwoo couldn’t figure out who she was, you could only guess that she was extremely attractive from the way she walked.

When the first light from the fast food restaurant hit her face, Karina revealed herself to you with a shy smile. “Sunwoo…” she waved at the boy. “And well… Y/n… How are you doing?”

Sunwoo let out another scream. This time you did the same. Then you started to cry, unable to control your emotions. Karina threw herself at you and hugged you with teary eyes. After you both calmed down, Sunwoo fried you two large portions of fries and left the place for a moment, pretending to have received a call.

“Y/n. I look at you…” “Terribly, terribly” “Yes, well. You’ve lost weight” You squeezed her hands tightly. Warm tears fell onto Karina's white hands.

“Sorry” “Stop it, it’s okay. Look at me” Karina took your face in her hands and forced you to look at her. Then she continued to speak. “It had to be this way. I was reborn from the ashes, okay? But I want you to do the same. Let’s help each other. We’ve been alone for too long and…”

Karina stopped to look at the road, her eyes shining. “I missed you. The real you is so annoying, sexy, and cute at the same time. I'm happy to hear you're well."

Karina then looked back at you and looked at the palms of your hands. “Come with me. I'm full of money. Let's run away from here, let's go where no one knows us" "Karina" "It doesn't matter if you tell me now. You destroyed my previous life though! I expect you to pick up the broken pieces and put them back together"

She made you laugh and you thanked fate for having met her. You gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Karina looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you just kissing me back?” “Karina, there’s a time for everything” “You know, Y/n, I have a few things I need to tell you about myself. Did you know that I especially love dark chocolate and hate milk chocolate?”

“Karina,” you stood up from the stool and locked your eyes with his. "Tell me, Y/n" “We have all the time to learn to love each other” “And we have all the time to learn to live”

Sunwoo burst into the fast food restaurant, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. He couldn’t contain his excitement as he shared the incredible news: he had secured a role in a film directed by a renowned filmmaker. The moment was electric, filled with laughter and heartfelt congratulations as you both celebrated his achievement. Before leaving this familiar place, you and Karina decided to capture the memory with a photo at the very spot where your journey had begun. As the camera clicked, you were acutely aware that this moment marked a turning point. You stood there, smiling and cherishing the memory, knowing deep down that you were ready to embrace the future and leave the past behind, resolutely moving forward without looking back.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Fenris, under a cut for length:

"Fenris. Now, DA2 is a story all on its own but I'm not going to go there other than to sum it up as "we had just over a year and a half to make this". It's why I only wrote one follower, Fenris, and although it'll make his fans mad: I probably shouldn't have. Let me explain. The way we'd approach making the followers is brainstorming a list of concepts covering first the array of gameplay classes (and sub-classes) and then making sure they each have some skin in the game when it came to the story's conflicts - ideally having characters on both sides of the major ones. Why? You can't make a player care about the world, but you can make them care about characters who care about the world. It's the easiest way to provide hooks into a conflict, outside of it knocking on the player's door. Heck, it's probably better than that. Players will burn the world for approval. After that, we'd decide things like romances/sexuality. Then the writers would pick who they'd write. I always let my writers pick first. I figured they do their best work when it's something they're inspired to write... and they got so few chances at ownership, I wanted to give it whenever I could It's why I (reluctantly) let Patrick wrest Cole from my grasp in DAI, a character I'd created in Asunder. It's also why I let Jennifer take Anders in DA2, who I'd started in Awakening. In this instance, it meant I was left with the angry elven warrior character who nobody else appeared to want."

"It should have been my first clue that something was up. The second was how the artists had zero clue what to do with him. The art concepts were all over the place - from mages to crows to... well, even weirder. No matter how hard I tried to explain the idea, the artists simply didn't seem to get it Does this mean he was a bad character? Not exactly. Just an idea that probably deserved some re-examining. You can tell when an idea has a certain spark, and part of that is being easy to communicate. Sadly, there wasn't time for any re-examining even if it'd occurred to me. And it didn't, not yet. If it had, if I had time, maybe I'd have re-booted him as a templar. Someone pro-templar rather than anti-mage, who could give a personal hook into Meredith and give the templars some badly-needed humanity. But this falls into the shoulda-woulda-coulda category. I had a follower to write. Quickly. I struggled, at first. It was hard to get away from "Fenris hates everything, all the time". It felt very one-note, and I didn't know where to take him. My third clue, I guess. I also wasn't sure if I was the right person to write a former slave. I did know that couldn't be the center of his story. I did know trauma, however. How it can eat you up. How the hate and resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. How it can infect your relationships. Fenris's trauma isn't my trauma, obviously, but here I dipped into a more personal part of myself than I'd ever done before."

"It gave me the center of his story I was missing, but wow was it uncomfortable. In a good way, maybe. I likely wouldn't have, if I hadn't been so desperate. In a way, I think DA2 had some of our best writing *because* of the timeline. It was raw, with little time to sand down the interesting parts. I wouldn't have done the "Fenris doesn't talk to you for three years" thing if I'd known we were going to cut all the reactivity initially planned for the time jumps. When that call was made, I campaigned to cut the jumps to a year, but there was no time for the revisions it'd need. So, um. Awkward. I used to get asked where the name came from, and I... don't remember? Obviously it's derived from Fenrir, but I don't recall why we picked that. Someone pointed at Fenris the Feared from Joe Abercrombie's books... and I did read them, so maybe the name lodged in my head? Wouldn't be the first time. Casting Fenris turned out to be easy. He was the first time I requested a specific VA and got him. (The other times were Merrill and then Solas, my two "I want these specific Welsh actors, please".) Why? OK, if you must know, I'd played a bit of Final Fantasy XII. I heard Balthier. "Yes, that." 😅 And Gideon Emery was a delight, as it turned out. Consummate professional, and that lovely gravel in his voice... good god. Bite the knuckles. There was a struggle to find the voice at the outset where I did my best not to say "just pls do Balthier" but he found Fenris on his own and it was amazing. Overall, Fenris turned out better than he had any right to, considering the rocky start. He had a lot of soul, a vulnerability forged by pain that struck a chord with a lot of players, and I'm glad. Do I regret anything? Probably having him live in a corpse-filled mansion that would never update. That's a hindsight thing, though, as again the cut to reactivity over the time jumps came late. Outside of that, maybe letting the player give him back to Danarius? Poor shock value and a waste of resources because almost nobody took the option. Good evil options are ones that are tempting to take. And the lyrium tattoos. Interesting concept, but they're probably why you'll never see Fenris in a future DA. He requires a custom body, and the tattoos make that expensive. It's why I put Fenris in my 4th DA novel - the cancelled one. Don't fret, though. He died in it, so this way he lives on. 😉"

[source thread]

User: "Wait wait how does he die in [the cancelled novel]??" David Gaider: "Gloriously, after taking up a cause he didn't believe in at first but then made his own, one that allowed him to rediscover what it meant to be elven." [source] David Gaider: "I’m not sorry about the novel cancellation. I’m the one who cancelled it. I am kinda sad we couldn’t make it work, though. Considering it was after I left the DA team, it would have been my final DA hurrah." [source] David Gaider: "From my perspective, it was kind of "well if you're never going to use him again, let me at least give him a proper send off" and the story required a glorious death... but I get that's not the story his biggest fans would want (which is Hawke + Fenris 4ever), so it's just as well." [source]

User: "You all did some incredible work with such a tight deadline" David Gaider: "I'm of the opinion that even if we'd had only another six months to bake, DA2 would be remembered as a classic and not either a flawed gem or underbaked sequel, depending on who you ask." [source]

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Your Yuu is and will ALWAYS be valid!

For anyone who might need to read this.

I saw a tweet about this and some people talking about it here on tumblr, and I honestly feel like I'm saying something obvious but I want to reiterate the following:

Schrodinger's Yuu: All Prefects are canon and not at the same time. Self Inserts included and especially.

The anime, manga, and novel are adaptations, correct? Which means the game's story will always be the original story, right? (this is a rhetorical question)

This isn't even a case of a series, book or movie where fans simply start imagining themselves in a story that has nothing to do with them.

NO, we didn't make ourselves the main characters of the story, the GAME made us the main characters of the story. One of the main mechanics of the game is to insert ourselves into that world.

Self Inserts or OCs prefects have always been part of the game experience and story.

All this to say that no matter what prefects appear in the anime or appeared in the manga, they are not the real prefects because there is no "real/canon" prefect, because both they and we are ALL the "real/canon" prefect. The character default name is literally Yu/Yuu (You).

And that's not just something we decided, it was always the intention of the game. They knows our names and wishes us a happy birthday.

And if you want to ship yourself with the characters, guess what, you can! I myself can't help but do it. Because let's face it the game kinda indulges you to do that. And if you don't want to do it, you can not do it too!

So whatever comes with the anime release, don't let potential new annoying "fans" ruin your enjoyment of Twisted Wonderland when the game itself wants you to be able to enjoy it this way. ❤️

The only people who can tell you what is canon or not are the people who make the game, not other fans like you or me. Whatever fans say are opinions, not facts, just like this post, you choose to give it whatever importance you want.

And at the end of the day Twisted Wonderland is just a game: the most important thing is that YOU HAVE FUN however you want, not who is right about something. 😘❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk *mic drop*.

JOKING 😅😂

*comes back and pick up the mic again*

PS: And if there really wasn't going to be any kind of potentially friendly/romantic relationship with the player, explain the Valentine's Day merch. With messages written by the characters to those who buy the product! 😂 (it's a rhetorical question)

[sapphiresaphics]

Here’s the thing. Arcane season 2 was finished being written back in 2020. It was completed before the first season of Arcane even aired on Netflix in the first place. Before they even knew if it was going to be a hit or not. Before any of the fans had hot takes about the characters.

Which means that all of these “new subplots” (such as the black rose) weren’t just added in on a whim. They have an intentional purpose in the story they’re trying to tell.

It also means that the pacing was always going to increase and become faster as the two seasons went on.

I think a lot of fans are coming at this show from the perspective of a lot of live action shows where the writers see how fans respond to certain things so they add them into the story or focus on fan favorites to grab your attention and keep you engaged. And live action shows can do this because they’re filmed relatively close to when the series airs and so they’re aware of what the reactions are on social media (for good or ill).

But this is animation. Very TIME CONSUMING animation at that. It took 4 years to finish animating the 9 episodes of Season 2. If you include the 6 years of development and production of Season 1, that’s almost a full DECADE of working on this show.

My point is that they literally (and logistically) can’t respond to fan input and make changes in the show based on the way it was received on social media. Like it or not, these specific characters beats and storylines were always the plan from the start.

This is a long winded way of trying to say… if you have problems with the way certain characters are behaving, or certain plot points feeling rushed, or feel overwhelmed by the number of added subplots that need to get resolved before the end of the show… I strongly suggest rather than saying the writing is “bad” or that the writers “don’t know what they’re doing” or just complain about anything really… I suggest you take a step back and ask yourself “why are these the stories and actions they chose for this 2 season arc?”

I think that’s a far more productive thing to do than to go online and whine about things you didn’t like. I find it’s better to try and understand WHY they chose to do these things rather than write them off. More often than not when you look into the why, or try to come up with reasons why the writers would take certain characters down the paths they do, you end up coming out appreciating the media more. Even if you still don’t were with their narrative choices, learning and understanding the WHY is far more rewarding I think.

I’ll give you an example of something I don’t like, but that I understand why. Isha. I don’t like that Isha was introduced and then killed off in the latest episode. If I were to look at it just from a surface level reading, it seems pointless to add this cute mute kid character only to take her away a few episodes later. But NARRATIVELY she’s extraordinarily important. She is what Jinx needed to become more empathetic to her sister and reach out to fix their family. She helps push Jinx into the role of Vander for season 2. And her heroically framed sacrifice is probably going to be the push Jinx needs to stop trying to commit suicide.

Would I have liked to see more of her and Jinx’s relationship? Yes. Would I liked to have learned more about where she came from and why she’s mute? Yes. But at the end of the day, this is not a show about Isha. Isha is a narrative device to help forward the character development of Jinx. And so, while I do not like that she sacrificed herself… I understand it. And that understanding helps me appreciate the writing and the level of depth the writers are willing to go to push their characters around where they need to be by the end of the series.

At the end of the day, Arcane is just another show on Netflix. It is not beyond criticism. There are a lot of legitimate criticisms you can have against the show. But I’ve found that recently the number of bad takes and people refusing to engage with the narrative has resulted in a bit of a backlash against the show and I do not think that’s ultimately very productive. Please… if you’re going to criticize the show, please try to do better than just write off anything you don’t like as “the writers just suck” or “they changed X character for no reason!”

Because I guarantee you, there IS a reason for everything in this show. No matter how small and trivial it might be, this show was put together with love and an extraordinary attention to detail. There are reasons for why characters do and say the things they say. The writers often make these into intentional parallels, foreshadowing, and callbacks.

Please… take the time to actually stop and dissect what you see. Even something upsets you. I implore you… try to understand why. Try to understand what the writers are saying. Try to understand how certain plot points and events could have a bearing on different characters.

Please just…. Try?

[604to647]

The Might of the Realm

8.9K / Din Djarin x Princess!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin, General to your father’s army, finds himself in the gladiator arena of a foreign planet fighting for the success of your diplomatic mission.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established secret relationship (they are stupid in love), Mando'a nicknames (mesh'la, cyar'ika, cyare), the helmet comes off but reader is blindfolded, bath sex, fingering, unprotected PiV (Star Wars is made up and in space, so we pretend it's fine). A wee bit of angst if you squint.

A/N: Written for @beefrobeefcal's The Glandolorian challenge! This is the same AU that I imagined for my Kiss It Better drabble, with the same Princess!reader: set post Season 3, Carson Teva has dispatched Din to a New Republic stronghold planet to train and strengthen their armies; he becomes their General and falls in love with the realm's princess. I imagine this story to take place before Kiss It Better, when they are still sneaking around 🥰.

Many moons before another General (🤭) came on the scene, I outlined a long story for this AU that I'm not sure I'll ever write, so kindly forgive my self indulgent word count - I really took advantage of this challenge for a chance to write these two 🥰 Struggled a bit with the Dieter Bravo reference, but I think I found something that works (Thank you to @morallyinept for your invaluable character dialogue database!) Also got inspired by someone's Gladiator II premier look and snuck in one (1) The Princess Bride reference 🤭 / Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“No.”

“Princess, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, Din.  We came to pay our respects to the new rule and to affirm that our established trade routes through Flavin 5’s space will remain intact.  We did not come to be participate in some archaic gladiatorial fighting match to assert dominance.”

Even through the blankness of Din’s visor you can tell he’s amused by your hiss of a retort but is holding back his reaction.  His stoic and impassive demeanor normally reserved for others, you know that if he’s being less than fully direct with you it’s for one of two reasons: 1) he doesn’t want to lie or 2) he doesn’t want to risk your ire.  You suppose it’s the latter in this case, and that thought alone is reason enough for you to calm your emotional response to this predicament and reassess.

Taking a deep breath, you rest one hand on your hip and mimic a stance you’ve seen your fearsome General make many times; with your other you gesture at Din to present his argument for voluntarily sending your guard, the top lieutenants of the army he commands, into a battle arena on foreign soil.

“Mesh’la, I know your instinct is to protect your people, but you know as well as I that our troops, and especially the men who have been deemed fit to accompany you on this diplomatic mission, are more than capable of handling themselves in any combat situation.”

Din almost chuckles at the way you tilt your pretty head ready to interrupt, his feisty cyar’ika; he continues hurriedly, but with the calm confidence he knows you respond to, “You diligently studied Flavian traditions and history before embarking on this trip – you yourself taught me all I know of these people.  Despite the new ruling family’s decision to resurrect this ancient custom, what is your sense of these people?  Do they seem barbaric?  Cruel for cruelty’s sake?  This isn’t the Petranaki arena on Geonosis.”

You would roll your eyes at Din’s perfectly level-headed analysis, if you didn’t consider his strategic and tactical mind one of his most attractive qualities; Din’s shrewd ability to consider all angles of any situation is one of your army’s greatest strengths, and one that never fails to weaken you at the knees.  He’s taking this situation as seriously as you need him to, and so, you consider your answer carefully - working through your thoughts out aloud, “No, they are not a cruel people – and you’re right, these gladiatorial games were never about execution or spectacle like they were on Geonosis.  The ancient Flavian events were meant to bring the people, no matter class or station, together to be entertained, usually in celebration.”

“Do you think that tradition is being respected?  Or do you suspect some hidden agenda?”

You remunerate on this, thinking back to the new Flavian royal family you met earlier today, “No.  I believe them to be sincere.  Their purpose in resurrecting this historic custom is, I think, to build a connection with their people.  Participating in the gladiator match would be a show a respect for the Flavian people and a celebration of the new royal family.”  You take a deep breath, “So, we should participate.”

“I agree completely, Princess.”

This time you do roll your eyes at Din, but there’s no arrogance in your expression, “Fine.  But Din, just because there’s no ill intent does not mean there isn’t risk.  We don’t know what to expect from such a fight – there hasn’t been one like it held in centuries.  Who knows what opponents our men would face in the arena?”

“No matter who or what our troops are pitted against tomorrow, Princess, there is no doubt in my mind that they will be able to handle it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you have to agree, Din did train them himself after all, “I believe it.  Especially since they will have their fearless General there to lead them.”

“No.”

“Din, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, mesh’la.  I cannot leave you unprotected and without guard in the Royal Box,” huffs Din.

Stepping into Din’s space, you lay your hands on the shiny beskar that sits across his expansive chest, swearing you can feel it vibrate beneath your gentle palm from his thundering heartbeat; tipping yourself towards the great warrior before you, you feel his big, gloved hands move to your waist to steady you just as you knew they would.  Giving Din your most innocuous expression, you coo, “There is no need for me to have a protective guard if we deem the Flavian royals to be of honourable intent; if it is safe enough for our soldiers to participate in the gladiatorial games, then it is safe enough for me to be alone in the Royal Box.”

Din’s smile at your cleverness and persuasive tactics is hidden beneath his helmet, but he’s yet not ready to show you he’s given in so he remains as silent and cold as the armour he wears.

You use this opportunity to loop one arm around your hulking General’s neck to bring him closer to you still, your free hand takes one of his from your waist and brings it up to his helmet in a silent request.  The familiar click of Din’s helmet unlocking is the only invitation you need - using your nose to lift the brim of his helmet slightly above his strong jaw so you can find his plush lips with your own, you feel the hint of a smile against your pout before you deepen the kiss.  Opening to let Din lick into your mouth, you melt against the hard metal that represents everything he is to you: extraordinary, flawless, indestructible.

And such a good kisser, letting loose a soft whimper you nearly miss Din chuckle something against your lips.

“What’s that, General?” you sigh dreamily.

“I said, Princess, I saw what you did there, and that was NOT the way,” chastising with no actual bite, Din lowers and relocks his helmet.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” flashing him that breathtaking smile of yours that always makes him forget himself, “I’m only following the logic you already agreed to.  Grogu and I will be fine watching you showcase the might of our realm from the safety of our spectator seats tomorrow.”

“Grogu will be with me in the fighting area.”

“No.”

“Cyar’ika, he will be fine.”

“He’s just a baby, Din!”

“And a Mandalorian apprentice.  You’ve seen what a formidable fighter he’s already grown to be.”

And so on, and so forth – the two of you, the General and his Princess, spiritedly discussing and debating matters that affect your realm.  The thought crosses your mind, not for the first time, that when you ascend the throne after your father you will need a ruling partner who challenges you like this: one who makes you wiser and forces you to expand your horizons, but trusts your compassion and tender heart, and who you trust to keep you and your kingdom safe.  And as you always do when this thought naturally lends itself to an image of Din by your side, tall and proud as your King consort, you push it away as far as you can.  It hurts too much to imagine something that seems to materialize so clearly and happily, as if it could actually become a reality, when you know it could never be.

The crowd in the arena is deafening.  Already amped from the opening entertainment acts, they’re now cheering loud, calling for the main event.

Sitting front row in the Royal Box, you scan over the floor of the arena – knowing that it’s unlikely, but still hoping for a flash of silver beskar from behind one of the gates that line the sides of the arena floor, behind which lay the holding areas for the gladiator fighters selected for today’s match.  Once or twice, you think you spy the sunlight catch something shiny from beneath the stands, but before you can look more closely, someone from the Flavian royal family will engage your attention.  Though your mind never strays far from Din and his, your men, you cannot forget yourself or your role - your purpose for being in this arena today: you’re here to secure the continued prosperity your kingdom and strengthen your realm’s relationship with a long-standing ally. 

If you’re honest, despite the trepidation that sits heavily atop your heart, you cannot help but be affected by the electricity of your environment.  The stadium thrums and pulses with the excitement of thousands of Flavian citizens who have come out in the hot sun to partake in today’s festivities – you see children of all ages waving noisemakers and colourful flags, men and women young and old already cheering for who they anticipate to be today’s victors.  Based on the chatter in your tent, the news of your General fighting today has spread like wildfire through the city – very few Flavians have ever seen a Mandalorian, never mind have the privilege of seeing one fight; today was going to be a day they remember for the rest of their lives.  As for your companions in the Royal Box, you’re happy to see that your and Din’s assessment had been accurate – there is no underlying bloodlust or malevolent show of power associated with these fights, everything is only in good fun; your royal cohorts are all in splendid moods, showing genuine enthusiasm akin to the original spirit of the same games put on by their ancestors.

You’re just chatting amiably with the new Flavian king about having some of the wonderful Flavian wine and fruit you’ve enjoyed in the tent sent up to your room later, when a fanfare of trumpets echoes throughout the stadium announcing the start of today’s fight.  The crowd quiets to a soft buzzing as the amphitheatre’s speakers announce the entrance of your fighters; the volume rises again as the audience goes wild when the might of your realm runs in through the gladiator’s entrance.  You can’t help but beam, chest bursting with pride at the impression they make on the Flavian crowd – a big, broad Mandalorian General, towering in his stance and intimidating in his majestic armour, flanked by your guard: five of the strongest, most formidable soldiers from your father’s army. 

You spy Grogu before the Flavian royals do, but it’s only because you know where to look.  A perch for him has been attached to the side of his father’s jet pack so he can remain secure at Din’s shoulder during combat, but have the flexibility to jump off and join the fray if needed.  The instant the Flavian prince spots him, he excitedly points him out to the others – and you take great pleasure in informing your hosts that they, in fact, have the honour of seeing two Mandalorians today.

With only a few moments before their opponents arrive in the arena, you take a closer look at your fighting contingent – they have been outfitted with Flavian weapons (swords, blasters, electro shields), the standard issue armament of your kingdom they normally carry nowhere in sight; the only exception is of course Din, who carries the gladiatorial weapons like the others and all of his usual weaponry – you chuckle to yourself, imagining the poor Flavian weapons master who tried to strip a Mandalorian of his religion.

A loud voice announcing the incoming fighters for Flavin 5 jerks you back to the scene before you.  The crowd thunders as a squadron of battle droids nearly a hundred strong marches into the arena, each carrying varying sized blasters or blaster rifles in addition to their own swords, a few wielding double ended electro staffs.  You barely have time to fret over how outnumbered Din and your troops are before the king is rising in his seat and giving the ceremonial hand gesture for the fight to begin.

You hear your General shout quick, decisive commands and his trusty men move swiftly into the desired formation, electro shields lit up and expanded in one coordinated movement.  They advance as a team, strong and sure, every aim of their blasters true – each man practiced at covering the comrades at their sides as the droids begin shooting back.

When your men are close enough to the front line of the remaining droids, the intimidating battle cry you hear emanating from Din’s helmet is repeated in response at tenfold the volume by his men, a signal to shift fluidly into a tiered offensive formation that you recognize from watching their training on the palace grounds at home.

The legion moves with precision and speed, the crouched soldiers providing the impenetrable shielding needed by the men who stand tall as a precision sniper team that can’t be touched; your Mandalorian the tallest, unphased by the droid fire that bounces harmlessly off his beskar armour.

The formation is far more effective than the static positions of the droids and in almost no time at all, your fighters have driven the remaining thirty or so droids back towards the entrance gate.  Answering another roared order, your contingent springs apart with an unrivalled ferocity to attack the remaining droids via direct combat.

Din cuts down mechanical fighter after mechanical fighter, mowing through the defensive lines of the Flavian droids that have none of his agility and lighting quick reflexes, bolstered by his trusted troops at his back who move with the confidence of men who have been trained by the best, used to fighting with the best.

Grogu has left his father, jumping from his perch onto and over droids with lightening speed - they shoot at him with their blasters only to miss their fast-moving green target every time and take each other out instead.

You watch their every move with bated breath – every bolt that connects with your realm’s armour quickens your breath, the clashing sounds of weapon on weapon too loud in your ears, and each hit or wound sustained by one of your men jolts a phantom pain through your own body.

When the last droid soldier falls, your men, your man, stand victorious at the epicenter of the arena; bloodied, exhausted to the point that the heaving of their chest plates can be seen from the Royal Box… but all standing.

You can hardly believe it - your heart exploding with pride, tears nearly springing from your eyes in relief.  Looking to your hosts, you half expect them to congratulate you and acknowledge the victory of your fighters, but instead, you see them still engaged with the scene before them, eyes trained on the arena floor.

They smile with genuine excitement and anticipation, and your eyes snap back to Din and your soldiers at the sound of the brassy, melodic fanfare now being played throughout the stadium.  The crowd rises to its feet with an ear-splitting roar as the orchestral horns continue to crescendo, announcing the coming of something.

You glance at the Flavian prince, his face alight with boyish joy – he’s excited in an almost childish way and when he sees you looking at him, he beams and points to one of the gates that’s now opening, voice elated, “Cliff beasts!”

Cliff beasts?!? You stand from your seat and rush to the edge of the balcony, gripping the railing and leaning as far as you can so you can see what new challenger is about to enter the arena.  You gasp when you see it – a woolly beast larger than Din and his men combined, trotting out into the arena on four stubby but powerful legs.  A magnificent horn, the length of which must span at least half of the creature’s massive body protrudes from its snout, thick and battle ready. 

A mudhorn??  Of all the beasts to have entered the arena, what where the chances it would be the beast of Din’s clan signet?  For a moment, you’re alarmed that maybe there have been unseen machinations at play and you’ve been blind to it all – that you’ve somehow failed in your diplomatic duties, failing your kingdom, your men, Din. 

You study the Flavian prince who’s now proclaiming to his father, the king, “These cliff beasts are so large!”  The two of them are enthusiastically waving and gesturing to the other attendees in the Royal Box, their chatter is of wonderment and genuine amazement at the sight of this creature that they’ve never before beheld on their planet - you conclude, with relief, that it has to be a coincidence.  Wait, what did he mean – these? 

Peering down into the arena again you see a second, smaller mudhorn ambling behind the first.  A parent and its child!  Your heart tightens, imagining how scared the two creatures have to be and how fiercely the adult will fight in order to protect its young.  You catch Din’s visor pointed up at you from the arena floor and you know that he understands the distressed expression of your face perfectly.

Immediately, your General gathers his men and lays out his strategy – unknowable to the crowds of the arena, but you can read Din clear as day: he won’t cause harm to another living creature if he doesn’t have to.

Din and his soldiers slowly fan out, purposefully ignoring the young calf while surrounding the adult mudhorn.  As expected, the mudhorn charges in attack.  Trying to blink as little as possible for fear of missing anything, you watch wide-eyed as your men deftly leap and roll out of the path of the stampeding animal.  When the mudhorn stops and turns back towards the perceived threat to its young, the soldiers surround it again – rocking on the balls of their feet ready to evade its charge again.  They aren’t always as lucky or fast enough – you cry out in anguish whenever the Mudhorn makes contact, sending your guard flying, landing with a sickening thud on the arena floor from the force of the impact.  The crowd gasps in worry, cheering louder than ever when your men get up to rejoin their brethren in repeating the same maneuver over and over.

Din’s plan is working, the mudhorn is getting tired. 

Part of you is relieved, the other hopes that its fatigue doesn’t make the creature desperate; though your men are still standing, you don’t know if any of them can sustain more injury to their bodies – an increasing danger that only grows as Din and your soldiers begin tightening the proverbial noose.  You spy Din protracting his fibercord whip from his vambrace by hand only seconds before he does what you suddenly realize he’s going to do.  The mudhorn is pawing at the ground, exhausted and angry while your men surround it, now each only about an arm’s length away, when Din uses a jetpack blast to leap onto its back - throwing the whipcord around its horn and pulling back on his makeshift reins.  The other men scatter and the crowd screams as your General rides the wildly bucking animal around the arena.  At their General’s direction, your men are now divided between two tasks: half shoot at the galloping beast that unwillingly bears their fearless leader and his son, their blaster bolts a distraction but doing little to the mudhorn’s tough hide; the remaining men tasked with capturing and restraining the calf – the seemingly easier task. 

Heart nearly in your throat, you watch as Grogu climbs down the front of his father’s arm and onto the mudhorn, quickly crawling to the top of its head where the massive horn joins the creature’s skull.  With one of his little green hands holding onto the cord his father holds taut and the other placed directly on the mudhorn’s woolly head, you see Grogu close his eyes in concentration.  Gradually, the mudhorn’s steps slow and its movements around the arena become unsteady, then wobbly, before it finally teeters and crashes onto its side fast asleep.  Din jumps off just in time to avoid being crushed by the animal’s huge body - Grogu does a dramatic flip into the air at the same time and lands perfectly in his father’s waiting arms.  The crowd roars its approval. 

The Flavian royals next to you are on their feet, clapping and cheering with astonishment and admiration – congratulating you on the victory of your men and thanking you for the fantastic show you’ve provided them today.  Clasping your hands in appreciation, they heartedly assure you that the documents confirming your planet’s trade routes will be completed and delivered to you tomorrow. 

You express your appreciation before turning your attention back towards the arena, heart full - relieved and proud of the men still on the fighting floor.  You have to admit they make quite the sight waving to the cheering crowds while standing next to a sleeping mudhorn, two of your lieutenants holding a makeshift leash with a smaller mudhorn standing docile at its end.  To the admiring masses, the large beast was subdued by these men, the might of your realm, but you know the truth.  You blow a little kiss to Grogu who pretends to catch it in his little hand before waving back, happy but somewhat tired.

Even with his helmet on you can read Din’s expression as he looks up to the Royal Box.  Where is my kiss, mesh’la?

You smile back a playful smirk just for the unseen eyes behind the dark T-visor.  Later.

You pace in the large, ornamental suite that your hosts have graciously provided – it’s beautiful, a true testament to Flavian luxury and craftsmanship, but you have no attention to spare for its finery.  Not when you’re straining your ears to listen for footsteps coming down the hall, eyes continuing to dart towards your door as if for some reason you may have missed hearing them come.

“Princess…”

Your lady’s maids, Olivia and Serine, pace right along with you, following your tracks around the grand room.  They’re as exhausted as you are, but you know their hearts to be as determined as your own; you give them the most indulgent look you can muster and any plea to ask you to rest dies on their lips.  The three of you continue to take turns listening intently for the telltale sounds of a soldiers’ march.

Finally, you hear something.  Faint but purposeful footsteps walking in synchronicity – the herald of well-trained soldiers with an intended destination.  Perked, you look to your faithful companions with renewed vigor and sprint to your door, flinging it open without grace and hurrying into the dimly lit hallway.

They’re still far enough down the hall that you have some time, even with your hastened steps, to study how your men appear to be faring; you know that when you ask, they will insist they are fine so not to worry you.

Two of your country’s finest are limping slightly, one of your lieutenants and a captain.  Your other lieutenant is walking fine, but he has a nasty gash on his forearm, dripped, half dried blood wrapping around his wrist like a terrible bracelet.  The armour of your realm that the legion proudly wears has taken a beating, covered in evidence of today’s bout – marked, dirty and bloodied, but none of the men themselves appear to be grievously injured.

But it’s the man at the front of the pack that you study the most sincerely.  Din’s gait is not too unfamiliar for you to suspect he’s hiding any serious injury - he would know better than that.  After the battle on the Fields of Planoor he had learned not to conceal his injuries from you, that you were so familiar with his body and the way it moves, you would know something was wrong without a single word from him.  As Din stalks towards your group, you can feel the hot gaze from behind his visor assessing you just as you assess him; your General holds himself a bit straighter, his massive frame puffing in pride.  He bears no sign of serious injury, a little sigh of relief escapes your lips as you continue to run down the hall, Olivia and Serine hot on your heels.  But his back is probably killing him.

The men stop to a coordinated halt as you reach them; their weapons sheathed, they each raise their left fists to their chests and bow, “Princess.”

You wave your hands in a graceful but frantic manner, dismissing this need for formality, “Please.  Are you okay?  Is everyone alright?”

Reaching for Grogu, your heart settles a little when he climbs down from his secured perch on his father’s shoulder and leaps into your arms.  Fussing over him, you check his fuzzy green ears and sweet face for injuries; when you run your hands over his limbs and body to do the same, he coos and giggles as if being tickled.  Resting your palm against the security of the beskar rondel he wears beneath his tunic, you exhale in contented relief and place a long kiss to his head.  He’s okay.

Those same words are now being echoed out loud in the low modulated rasp of the voice you trust most in this galaxy, “He’s okay, Princess.  Not a scratch on him, the little womp rat.  The Lieutenant could do with some fresh dressings for his arm, but the rest of us are fine – a bit banged up and tired, but nothing a warm bath and a good night’s rest can’t fix.”

Knowing that Din’s helmet will give nothing away, you study the faces of your countrymen, trying to ascertain if their beloved General is downplaying the damage for your sake.  Finding no deception in their eyes, and knowing that they know you would know, you relent, “Have you eaten?”

“We were given sustenance after our victory.”

You raise your eyebrow at this, suspecting that Din’s words answer only for his men, but not necessarily himself.  Nodding, you give your final charge for the evening, “Olivia, Serine, please kindly see our brave soldiers to their rooms, run their baths and tend to them as needed.”

Your ladies-in-waiting curtsey in assent at your words and intuitively, Olivia extends her arms for Grogu – there are no secrets between you and your closest companions.  Din nods at her and she takes her favourite little green playmate into her arms, happy to help clean him and put him to bed tonight while his father is otherwise occupied.

Din turns to face his men – similarly, there are no secrets between the General and his most trusted squadron, men who love their princess with an unyielding loyalty that rivals only his own.  Your father’s soldiers salute their esteemed leader, bidding their Princess and General goodnight before following Olivia and Serine to their assigned quarters.

Silently, you take Din’s hand and lead him back down the hallway to your room, careful not to hurry should he be much battered and sore, though the urgency in your chest is nearly bubbling over.  Your concern appears to have been unfounded because as soon as the door to your room shuts, Din sweeps you into his arms with a force that takes your breath away - crushing you to his chest so tightly that you can feel him deflate beneath the hard beskar as he exhales his own long held sigh of relief.

You chuckle, “You would have thought that I was the one fighting cliff beasts in the arena today.”

“Cliff beasts?” Din tilts his head quizzically at you.

“I’ll tell you later.  Right now, let’s get you out of your armour,” your fingers slide under his pauldrons, feeling for the familiar release mechanism.

“Cyar’ika, if you wanted to have your way with me, you only had to ask - you didn’t need to send me into a fight arena with a mudhorn,” jokes Din, wincing slightly from the stretch of his muscles as they contract and relax with the weight of his armour being lifted from his aching body.

You cluck your tongue in playful disapproval, even as you continue to make quick work of removing the rest of Din’s armour.  With now practiced precision, you lift off his chest plates and the attachment frame, unhook his jetpack, unclip his cape, slide off his vambraces, unstrap his thigh plates, unlace his boots, unbuckle his belt, unzip his flight suit.  The ceremony of this process is one you will never tire of, nor is its significance lost on you. 

Din, a Mandalorian, willingly lets you touch his armour and remove it from his body – trusting your delicate hands with his most precious property: the physical embodiment of his honour and creed, the very symbol of his people.  Not only that, but he allows you to strip him of protection and reveal his vulnerability to you, exposing him and his softness – he exists as the man beneath the beskar for you and you only.  You’re the most privileged being in the galaxy – the weight of Din’s trust in you is something you will never take for granted.

When Din stands before you in only his boxers and helmet, you begin your study of his body in earnest.  Dancing your fingers across his hard and tanned chest, you trace old scars in order to separate them from new marks; palming his torso and checking his thick arms with the same careful hands.  Rounding your warrior, you continue your roaming examination over his muscular back and listen intently for any change in Din’s breathing when you press down on his tense shoulders – relieved when you hear him groan in satisfaction instead of pain.  As you’re lightly scraping your nails over his wide thighs you hear the telltale unclicking of Din’s helmet – he beckons you.

Rising to meet his lowering face, you use your thumbs to lift the brim of Din’s helmet slightly, always keeping your eyes closed so you don’t see any of his face – not for the world would you betray Din’s trust.  Mouth finding his easily, you kiss Din gingerly – unsure of what injuries he may have sustained beneath his helmet; lightly pecking his soft pout and pressing restrained affection to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going to break, cyare,” Din grins as if he’s reading your mind.

Snapping down his helmet with a bit more force than necessary, you peer up into the black horizonal stripe of his visor and sniffle, “I can see some big bruises starting to form over your abdomen and on the back of your thighs.  And the muscles of your arms and back are overstrained and need to loosen or you’re going to be more sore tomorrow than you already will be.”  The emotions you held in all day now start to spill over your lash line; dropping your head, you cry softly at the toll today’s events have taken on your strong man’s body and how he bears it without complaint.  Contrite and indebted that he sustained these injuries at the behest of your kingdom - your behest, for you. 

Din gathers you in his arms and pulls you flush to his chest, tilting back his helmet again he kisses you lovingly, devotedly – with every stroke of his tongue, every nibble of your lips, he reminds you that it is not only his duty, but his honour to serve your kingdom, to serve you.  He would do anything for you, without you ever having to bid it.  It is not in him to deny you anything, his heart’s desire is to give you everything.

“I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, General.”

Not without some difficulty, you pull yourself out of Din’s embrace and lead him to the suite’s fresher, running the taps of the large tub and scenting the water with fragrant, healing oils.

“I can do that, mesh’la,” one of Din’s large meaty hands covers yours as you test the temperature of the water.

Shaking your head shyly, you bring that hand up to your lips and kiss its calloused knuckles, “Please. Let me serve you, Din.”

“That is not befitting of a princess.”

“I am not like other princesses.”

Tilting your chin up with two of his thick fingers, you can feel the smile behind Din’s next words, “No, you are not.  There is no one like you in the galaxy.”

“And I’m yours.”

The helmet, never having been relocked, is lifted again and Din sweeps you into a passionate, hungry kiss, different than the reassuring and devoted kisses of earlier – deeper, greedier.

“Get in the tub, Din,” you murmur against his lips while you can, before you forget your task and give yourself over to him completely.

Chuckling, Din can only acquiesce whenever he hears a direct request from your mouth – he never hears you command him as his sovereign, only ever as his love.  No matter – he would obey either way.  Stripping off his boxers, helmet still on, Din slips into the steamy water of the deep soaker tub, letting out a heady groan at the way all his muscles relax in reaction to the sudden heat against his rough skin. 

With a soft footedness that still surprises Din, so used to picking up every little sound with his helmet’s acoustic sensors, you reappear suddenly with a small tray table bearing various Flavian fruits and wine for Din and a thin silk scarf for you.

“I know you didn’t eat after the match,” you say matter-of-factly when Din tilts his helmet in question.  Neither did you.

“Will you join me, cyar’ika?”

“Of course, my love,” you begin to disrobe, perfectly understanding the double meaning of your General’s question.

Though he’s seen and worshipped your naked form more times that you can count, there’s always something about being unable to see the eyes that devour you which makes you shy.  Able to detect the rise in temperature of your face, your bashfulness amuses Din to no end – if only you could see his own expression; every time Din sees you bare before him is like the first time, he thinks you might even laugh at the slack jawed, awestruck expression hidden by his helmet – if Mandalorians were to believe in a literal afterlife, then Din could well be deemed a heretic for he’s sure he’s already seen heaven.

Stepping in the tub, careful not to trip over Din’s strong legs, you settle on your knees in the water near his feet; taking the wash towel from the side of the tub, you lather it up with your own luxurious cleanser, the scent of which you know Din loves and begin to wash his body.  With great care and affection, you wash and massage Din’s feet, calves and thick thighs, the two of you quietly chatting about your individual perspectives on what transpired in the arena today as you move up his body with your loving touch.

Din groans when you wash his groin area, and you smirk and pretend to throw him a look of disapproval even as you stroke his fast-hardening cock with the washcloth.

“Cyare…” he strains.

“Hmmmm?” Humming, you shimmy to straddle his lap and innocently begin to wash his hard chest and tree trunk arms.

“You’re teasing…”

“Not at all, I’m cleaning,” you giggle.  Rising onto your knees, you lean over Din’s mountainous shoulder to clean his back, dangling your wet, supple breasts right at helmet visor level.  Definitely teasing. 

Two can play at this game. Din’s modulator muffles his snicker as he makes sure you’re entirely engrossed in your task of scrubbing his back, concentrating adorably so that you don’t notice when his big paws reach for your chest, groping and kneading the pillowy flesh with hardly any warning.

You squeal and grind down on Din’s cock - in retaliation he zeros in on your already pert nipples, rough fingers roll and pinch, flick and tug your pretty peaks until you forget your work and bury your face into his shoulder, completely lost to the pleasure that only the General can give you.

“Din,” your voice a soft whimper, needy yet still regal and melodic, “… you have to…”

“What do I have to do, Princess?”

His teasing tone makes you gush; this man knows exactly what he’s doing – you try to claw back some semblance of control over the situation, “You need to let me tend to any injuries you may have sustained under your helmet.  And let me wash your hair.”

“Oh, do I?” 

Nodding in earnest with your eyebrows raised, “Yes, and then you have to rest.  Your body needs it.”

“My body needs you, mesh’la.”

Leaning back, your eyes follow the trail of your fingers as they rake down the smooth skin of Din’s broad chest, slowing over the various long-healed scars whose tales of origin you know by heart, you prepare yourself to argue your way.  But the truth is, you don’t want your way – you need Din, too.  Here on Flavin 5, there is no fear of getting caught, no need for hurried kisses or fleeting touches – the two of you have time.  Time to enjoy one another.  Time to let your hearts run rampant with affection and want.

Tomorrow morning is the last morning you can wake lazily in Din’s arms, like any other couple waking to just another day in the rest of your lives together.  Tomorrow you will return home and your love for your steady warrior will once again need to be tucked away close to your heart, safe from the prying eyes of the kingdom. 

So, you don’t argue.

“Injuries first, General.”

“I have none, Princess.”  You can feel Din’s shit eating grin radiating from behind the beskar.

Grinding down a little on Din’s hardening length as a warning, “I should like to see for myself, thanks.”

“Of course, mesh’la.  I would see you satisfied.”  Though still smirking, it’s with enormous feeling that Din picks up the scarf from the side table and with his practiced hand, covers your eyes; wrapping the silk around your head twice before tying it securely.  He doesn’t ask you if you can see, knowing that if you could you would volunteer it.  Sitting prettily with your hands clasped together, you wait for the welcomed sound of Din’s helmet being lifted and set down where you scarf previously lay.

Heart full, your hands reach out to gently touch Din’s face, fingers tracing over the most intimate part of the man you love.  His jaw relaxes as you stroke though his facial hair and his plush lips curl as your thumb brushes over them.  Din’s strong nose feels unbroken, thank goodness – your gentle kiss to the tip earns you a breathy chuckle that tickles your throat.  Mapping the strong lines of his forehead, you discover your first wound at Din’s hairline – the soft curls of his brown (or so you’re told) hair already matted and sticking with dried blood.  When your fingers caress Din’s temple, you find a small superficial cut by his left eye, and your heart tightens further upon feeling a nastier slice on the apple of his cheek.  Even without seeing and Din giving away no hint of tenderness at your touch, you’re sure there are bruises starting to form on the face you love.

Though you’ve never seen it, you know Din’s face – positive that you could pick it out of a crowd as surely as you could your own in a mirror.  It’s the face of the strongest warrior you’ve ever known, one whose honour and integrity is as unbreakable as the beskar armour that covers his body.  A protector who fights without fail to defend the weak, uphold justice, and push back against tyranny and corruption – no matter how hard something may be or the risk to his own self, the man who bears this face will never back down, always standing up for what’s right.  It’s the face of a man who loves fiercely – loves his Creed, his people, his duty, his son, his woman.  You.  You know the face of this man, the man who owns your heart, your body, your soul - wholly and completely.

You wash this face, carefully cleaning your discoveries.  Then, before you wash his hair, you cradle Din’s head delicately and check for bumps and scrapes, sighing in relief when you find none.  Lathering up a generous amount of your shampoo, you distribute it through Din’s curls, massaging his scalp as he groans in approval.  Your smile at the sound could melt even the steeliest warrior’s heart, Din is sure – it melts his.

When his hair is rinsed and face pat dry, salve applied to his wounds, you attempt to get Din to eat from the food on the tray.

“After, Princess,” Din’s voice somehow lower than when it’s filtered through his modulator.

“After what?” you pretend to be confused.

“After I have what I’m truly hungry for,” you can feel the sides of his face lift beneath your hands as the curve of his mouth pulls up into a wicked grin.

You flash him what you think is a mirroring smirk, “And what is that, General?”

Din takes an excruciating long time trailing his fingers featherlike down the column of your throat as an answer.  His massive hand skate over your naked breasts, pinky pretending to be caught on your pert nipple before catching up with its brethren that have moved on to tickling your soft tummy.  When his hand finally dips below the water, it’s no more hurried, no less teasing – knuckling down the front of you, his hand so big and wide, his thumb and baby finger stretch to slowly stroke along the apex of your thighs at the same time with no additional effort at all.  You quiver at your warrior’s languid and gentle touch – that these same hands are trained for weapons and brutality is not lost on you; how lucky are you to be able to feel them as they are now, so close to where you need them, reverent and worshipful.  Hands meant for building up and protecting, instead of tearing down and destroying - and yet you know them capable of both - and moreover, that they can and will do both to you. 

Leaning forward to press your lips tenderly to Din’s, you whisper, “Promise you’ll eat after?”

He knows the condition of the ask is empty - you need him as much as he does you, both of you hungry for more than the food your empty stomachs growl for.  The worry you felt for your Mandalorian every second he was in the arena today has morphed into a blazing desire now that you have him secure once again in your loving arms; even when he was facing blaster fire or the murderous glare of a mudhorn today, Din’s thoughts never strayed far from the moment he could return to your warm embrace.

But he plays along, because he knows you need to hear it, “I promise, cyare.” And then, because your well being is always as much on the forefront of his mind as his is yours, Din adds, “As long as you eat with me.”

“Promise.  Now touch me please, Din,” you’re trembling, not just from want but need, a need for the reassurance that he’s here safe, that the violence you saw in the arena did not touch him.

Even if he had not pledged his fealty to your kingdom, Din would submit to your request, to you – if it were up to him, he would spend the remainder of his days catering to your every whim, carrying out your will, doing anything and everything necessary to ensure your happiness.

He parts your folds with his fingers, finding you slick and ready for him.  As Din glides his thick digits along your seam, your soft moans fill the steamy room, “Ohhh Din, yes right there, please.”

“Such a polite little princess, isn’t she?” hums Din, loving how responsive you always are for him.  He kisses down your neck, nipping at your shoulder as you come to a rest against his chest.  You’re shuddering from the way he’s stroking your pussy, swirling infuriatingly at your needy hole but never dipping inside, teasing you with long broad swipes up to your clit.

Pressing his thumb against your already slippery nub, Din takes advantage of your lack of sight and surprises you by dipping his head down to take one of your breasts in his mouth at the same time – you cry out from this sudden double attack, body trying to run.

The old bounty hunter in him activated, Din chuckles and increases the pressure of his hand on your pulsing clit, and with his free hand, he holds you firm by the nape of your neck - face now buried deep in your cleavage, biting and sucking every bit of soft flesh his mouth can find.  Rolling your pert nipple between his teeth, he seals his lips over the sensitive peak and murmurs, “I got you, mesh’la.  Let me make you feel good.”

At his sure words, you immediately relax and willingly giving yourself over to your warrior, sighing in surrender as he worships you with his fingers and his mouth.  This is the only time that you allow yourself to be covetous of what is not rightfully yours – Din’s face you may know without having ever seen, but the lascivious sight of what he looks like when he loses himself in your pleasure remains a mystery.  You secretly long to see it – wishing to know how dark his eyes burn, how his lips wet and plump, how his brow might furrow or relax in reaction to your whines and whimpers. 

If you were his riduur – no.  No, you can’t let yourself go down that path of longing, it only ends in heartbreak. 

As if he can sense that your mind has started to wander, Din slips two of his thick fingers deep in your heat and curls them, beckoning you back to him.  You fly right back into the moment and to the space of devotion that he holds just for you, gasping for air at the stretch of his welcomed intrusion.

“Need to get you ready for my cock, cyare,” purrs your Mandalorian, bringing you back fully and binding your heart to his in the here and now.

Nodding almost mindlessly, you crash your mouth to Din’s.  The kiss is desperate, needy for so many reasons – your tongues licking and chasing, dancing to the song of perfect pleasure that strums along the electric current that connects you.  Din feverishly conducts the symphony of your body – grand upward motions of his fingers in your cunt send waves of bliss that crescendo through your core; the sweeping of his lips against yours keeps you in tempo with his own urgency; his rolling downward gestures on your clit coils the band below your belly tighter and tighter.

No one can play you like Din can – beneath the beskar armour he’s a master musician, lover.  Like the weapons he so deftly wields and handles, your body is an instrument he knows intimately – every shift, slight change or tensing is noted and adjusted for so he can optimize performance, maximize your pleasure.  Din knows you’re going to come before you do by the key in which your breath hitches, the cadence of your fluttering walls.

“Come for me, Princess,” he growls, biting down on your plush bottom lip.  Now it’s your turn to obey – you come with an arch of your back and a chorus sung to your General’s name, Din, Din, Din, Din.

Here you can be as loud for as long as you want and Din can fuck you through your high for as long as you need, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean only when your cunt is complacent enough to release him, “Always taste so sweet, cyar’ika.”  You sigh at the filthy sounds of another forbidden sight you long, lust for.

Lips finding his again, you taste yourself on Din’s tongue and tease, “I thought we were eating after.”

This time it’s Din’s turn to act coy, repeating your question from earlier with a knowing smirk against your pout, “After what?”

In response, you reach between your bodies and even without the benefit of sight, easily find Din’s hard, throbbing cock.  Stroking his length with your delicate hands, you lift to line him up with your entrance and wordlessly sink down, “After you come, General.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Din groans at the way your pussy hugs him.  When you feel him shift beneath you to plant his feet on the bottom of the tub, you stop Din with a hand on his wide chest and shake your head, “You’re tired and your body needs rest, my love.  Let me do the work.”

Big, loving hands come up to cradle your head and a playful but reverent tone accompanies Din’s protest, “A General’s duty is to serve his Princess.”  You tilt into his paw and nuzzle; your Mandalorian’s affectionate touch and the feeling of fullness combine in making you compliant.  Leaning in close you ghost over Din’s lips, “Together then.”

Half awestruck, half groaning in agreement, Din slides his hands back down your soft body to come to a rest on your waist, holding you gentle and secure, “Together.”

It’s easy to find the perfect rhythm, your bodies already so in tune with one another.  Din’s slow upward thrusts meet your lighter bounces halfway, causing the water of your bath to ripple and splash against the sides of the tub.  It’s tender and patient until it isn’t – with no communication other than your soft whinnying and Din’s grunts and heavy breathing, your tempo and intensity remain matched, building together. 

Always together.  How you love being together with your Mandalorian.  How you love him.

You press yourself to Din, the rise and fall of his chest grounding you as your hips work in tandem with his.  Arms snaking around his neck, you cling to the General as your joint movements become more fervent and passionate, the water now choppy from your lovemaking.

Together.  Everything is better when you’re together.  You were able to get through today, together.

Love, relief and gratitude flood your pleasure wracked body as you crawl up Din’s broad mountain frame to find his lips.  Latching your mouth to your Mandalorian’s, you kiss him heady and desperate.  Every press of your plush and swollen pout thankful for his survival, of today’s fight and of all the fights that came before today so that he could come into your life.  A thank you to maybe that same mystical force that gives Grogu his unexplainable powers, for making the man that fills you so full at the moment the warrior, the father, the man is.  Thankful that he loves you.  For all of him.

Din meets every brush of your lips with the same devotion, somehow able to read the emotion behind your eyes without seeing them - the same way you’re able to read him even when he’s hidden behind his helmet.  He himself grateful for bringing his son and your countrymen back to you safe, for being the one to give you what you needed for the success of your mission.  A thank you to that same power than runs in his son’s veins and makes him a warrior far stronger than Din could ever be, for bringing him to you.  Grateful that a woman as regal, compassionate, and kind as you saw past his hard armoured exterior to the man beneath and holds him in your esteem.  And in your heart.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” Din growls with a deep rumble of his chest that echoes off the walls.  I love you.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” you cry back in the perfect pronunciation that Din taught you.  I love you.

Neither of you able to hold back your love for one another nor the crest of your bodies any longer – coming together, lyrical song sung loud and shameless.  The Princess and the General have nothing to hide here, tonight.

Later, after you’ve each eaten and drank your fill of Falvian fruits and wine, and you’ve massaged and kneaded Din’s sore muscles until you’re satisfied with the way his aches have melted away, Din guides you, still blindfolded, out of the cooled bath to the bed.

With Din protectively hovering over your naked body ready to take you again, you realize that as thankful as you’ve been feeling, you haven’t actually acknowledged those sentiments out loud to the man to whom you owe everything, “Thank you, Din.  Thank you for being the might of the realm.”

Though he knows you cannot see them, Din’s eyes fill with a love he hopes he can properly convey in other ways, “No need to thank me, cyar’ika, it will always be my honour to fight for you.  You must know - you are the might of the realm.  The realm prospers and remains strong because its Princess is brave, smart, good.  You’re everything, mesh’la.  You’re my might – I can only do the things I can because I do them for you.  I would do anything for you.”

You feel the scarf you wear across your eyes dampen as it absorbs your tears, “I know, Din.”  Happy, content, you welcome your General between your legs once more; and with the rare luxury of time and freedom that the two of you have been gifted tonight, you know it won’t be the last time.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Could you do the Diamond sisters spilling Cater’s embarrassing childhood stories to his friends (either the other Heartslabyuls or the Pop Music Club)? I like to imagine the first thing they would do is wreak havoc on Cater’s carefully crafted persona, intentional or not.

Decided to combine these all and do headcanons instead of an interaction due to the high number of characters (Heartslabyul + Lilia and Kalim, Cater's clubmates)!

Please note that we don't know exactly how old Cater's sisters are, but here I'm headcanoning them as being only a few years older than Cater.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Oh, the Diamond sisters LOVE Riddle. They hang all over him and squeal about how cute he is, much to his dismay. He’s not used to this much… open affection. It makes him feel weird!

He clears his throat several times and tries to remind them that he is not a boy, he is a young man, and he would appreciate it if they treated him as such. It’s a useless effort anyway—his words fall on deaf ears.

The Diamond sisters love it even more when he gets all red in the face. “Aw, he’s like a little strawberry,” they gush, not realizing that Riddle is this close to snapping and flying into a rage-filled frenzy. (His dorm members marvel at him actually exercising his limited patience; they placed bets with one another to see how long Riddle's temper can hold out for.)

He doesn’t much care for hearing stories from the Diamonds, finding them very frivolous. What’s with this family’s obsession with aesthetics? Riddle wonders. Why don’t they dedicate their time to more worthwhile pursuits like academics? And yet… why does his chest thud with a dull pain when he thinks about Cater in a large, empty house, packing up his life away into cardboard boxes?

The Diamond sisters are all over Trey too—but for completely different reasons than they were with Riddle. They drone on and on about how Trey is “husband material” and needlessly feel up his (beefy) arms, cooing and fluttering their lashes at him.

Trey awkwardly laughs off their jokes and shies away from their touch as politely as he can, making it clear he isn’t interested. He tries to deflect by changing the subject or offering tea and cakes and, if worse comes to worse, asks Cater for a save. (… Unfortunately, this makes the Diamond sisters think he’s playing “hard to get”.)

Trey actually likes hearing stories about Cater’s childhood; clearly, Cater won’t be this open with others himself, so getting this lore from his sisters is Trey’s second best option. Back then, Cater seemed so real and so vulnerable. Mask entirely off. Trey only wishes that Cater could be this unguarded with him in present day.

He has to admit, it’s amusing how flustered Cater gets trying to act unfazed or to play off his most embarrassing moments. Little by little, Trey feels as though the Diamond sisters are whittling away at his peer’s facade. He can’t help but be a little mean about it, taking this opportunity to join the Diamond sisters in teasing Cater. “So that’s what you were like, huh…”

He thinks he’s hot stuff, he could toootally bag Cater’s sisters—just watch him! … And so Ace slicks back his hair and tries his darndest to flirt with them, but to no avail. (The mob students make fun of him for having no rizz, but he defends himself by going, “L-Like you guys could do any better!!”) Man, he’s so jealous of Trey! How come he’s such a chick magnet even though he’s not even actively trying?!

The Diamond sisters wrinkle their noses at him and whisper to one another about how Ace is sooo annoying and cringefail. Think like… mean girls gossiping about you to your face. Real blow to Ace’s ego here.

Though the flirting doesn’t work out, Ace did initially manage to dazzle the girls with a few of his card tricks. The Diamond sisters clap their hands and demand that he “do it again” or tell them how the trick is done. He’d just cheekily wink and say, “Sorry, ladies! I never give away my secrets.”

There’s tea about Cater-senpai’s childhood? Ace is one of the first in line to hear about it!! He’ll memorize the stories and reenact them (including a falsetto voice for young Cater) for the entire dorm later, earning him Cater’s ire. “Ne, Ace-chan~ Don’t you think you’re bullying poor old Cay-kun too hard?”

As the man of the household, Deuce is usually helping out his mom or the other older ladies in the neighborhood, so he thinks it’s only appropriate to maintain that formal, upright behavior when addressing Cater’s sisters! This leads to Deuce calling both of them “ma’am” very loudly, which attracts stares from everyone 💀

The Diamond sisters wail about the whole “ma’am” thing. Like, just what is Deuce insinuating about their ages?! Do they look that old to him?! Is he saying he think they’re hags?! He hurriedly assures them he doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s meant to be respectful (but in the process, he accidentally calls them “ma’am” again and reignites their shrieking).

Appalled by Ace's attempts to flirt with the Diamond sisters, insisting that Ace should "be more of a gentleman, like Clover-senpai!" (He's dense and not fully aware of how uncomfortable Trey is with the circumstances.)

Deuce profusely apologizes to Cater for “hearing something he shouldn’t have” (ie his embarrassing childhood stories). He promises that he’ll act like he didn’t hear anything at all! He wears it on his life!! (This doesn't reassure Cater in the slightest. "Eeeeh, the more Deuce-chan says it, the more concerned I get!")

If there's one thing the Diamond sisters love as much as cute things, it's clout! They fawn over Kalim--well, more specifically, his family's wealth and status. (Some might even call it ass kissing.) Kalim's pretty oblivious to it, though. He thinks Cater's sisters are just being friendly with him, so he's friendly right back to them!

The Diamond sisters start to chatter about all these luxurious items they've been ogling. Designer shoes, haute couture dresses, jewelry heavy with gemstones... Kalim very nearly indulges the Diamond sisters by offering to buy those things for them (as "gifts to commemorate their new friendship"), but Cater cuts in to stop him!! "K-Kalim-kun, put away your wallet! The last thing I need right now is Jamil-kun after my neck!"

Kalim's just as bad as the Diamond sisters when it comes to spilling the beans on Cater. While the Diamond sisters yammer on about little baby Cater's missteps, Kalim tells them about the dumb stuff he and Cater get up to in club! They take turns trading stories and dunking on the poor guy...

But the difference between the Diamond sisters and Kalim? Kalim actually puts a positive spin on many of his tales. No matter how bad a show goes or how big the screw up... "All that matters is that we were in it together and had fun doing it. Cater's great at coming up with creative ideas. It makes me really happy to be able to call him my friend and band mate!"

The complete opposite of Riddle. Lilia adores being told he's cute. In fact, he encourages the Diamond sisters to "keep the compliments coming", because adorable things should be seen and adored! (Riddle huffs; Lilia is so shameless about all of this, especially as an upperclassman!)

He gets super into talking with the Diamond sisters about fashion, hair, and even nail polish colors. Lilia mentions some of his favorite and goes on a long spiel about how fashion trends have evolved over the years, and even gets into giving tips and tricks to the Diamonds. Cater's impressed with how smoothly Lilia's handling his sisters!

Lilia listens attentively as the Diamond sisters share their best (worst) stories about little Cater. He coos and chuckles at how cute Cater was "as a wee lad" and pitches in with stories about his own child, phrasing it as though Silver was someone he babysat frequently rather than his own son to avoid confusing the sisters. They murmur approvingly--not only is Lilia inventive and fashion-forward, but he's also great with children!

The Diamond sisters decide that Lilia is their new bestie and exchange numbers with him. He later lets his online buddy, Gloomurai, know about how he got the numbers of two hot women, which Gloomurai pops off about. "gg man ur rizz is INSANE." (Idia can't believe that a single father like Crimson Muscle still has mad game like this!)

BONUS: Some of the Diamond sisters' stories!

(P.S. If you like Cater + Cinderella stuff, you should check out this Cinderella retelling featuring Twst characters ;9)

Apparently, Cater used to talk to the rats and birds before he got a phone (not that he understood them at that age). After moving around so much as a kid, it became difficult for him to make friends with the local children so he'd practice his personas on the vermin in the community.

Once, they were playing dress-up together using their mother's wardrobe and makeup drawer... but they started fighting over some things that Cater was wearing, and his sisters ended up tearing the dress they wanted into rags, as well as snapping many pieces of jewelry. Everyone got scolded and punished that day, even little Cater, who hadn't done anything wrong.

He didn't like lentils as a kid so he'd pretend to trip and fall, spilling them into the ashes in the fireplace. Cater would have to pick all of them out by hand, but the chore was honestly preferable to eating them.

They used to play a game where they'd try to balance various stuff on their heads while walking. Normally it was various numbers of books--seeing who could stack the most--but once Cater tried a tray with a teapot and cups on it. That... didn't go so well.

Cater liked to pretend he was a celebrity! He'd bounce around singing with his hairbrush as a microphone or act like he was MCing for a ball. He would sing a lot as he scrubbed the floors too, popping soap bubbles as he did so.

[writetheidea]

Too Much to Be Enough - part 2

Hi, I wrote the second part of this fanfiction while juggling my thesis, so I apologize if there are any mistakes. Please feel free to point them out in my DMs or asks—I'd really appreciate it. I couldn't bring myself to just write pure fluff without adding a bit of angst. As I mentioned in the story, rebuilding trust isn't a straightforward process. I hope you enjoy it!

Part 1

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: after deeply hurting his girlfriend, Franco learns how hard it is to rebuild their relationship, learning that trust, once broken, is a delicate and painstaking process to restore.

Tag: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3178

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

Franco had always been a man of control. On the racetrack, precision wasn’t just a skill; it was survival. Every turn, every decision, required complete mastery over chaos. Off the track, he wasn’t much different, carrying that same calculated demeanor into his personal life. The way he managed his career, his relationships, even the smallest aspects of his daily routine, all reflected his need to remain unshakable. Control was his armor, his identity. But this—watching the woman he loved drift further away because of his carelessness—was a storm he couldn’t navigate.

He had made a mistake. A single moment of thoughtlessness, a few careless words, the laughter that followed, had been enough to tear open the foundation of trust they had spent years building. The memory replayed endlessly in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless tide. He could see it all too clearly: the way her face fell, how her voice quivered when she confronted him. She hadn’t screamed or shouted; she hadn’t even cried at first. She had just gone quiet, her silence heavier than any words could have been. It spoke of wounds too deep for words, a disappointment that no apology could touch.

At first, he had thought the tension might dissipate after a day or two. He had underestimated the depth of the wound he had inflicted. What followed was a purgatory of silence. She didn’t leave outright, but her presence was a ghost of what it had been. She avoided his touch, his gaze, even his attempts at conversation. The vibrant, warm woman he loved so fiercely had become a shadow, navigating their shared spaces like a stranger. Franco’s every attempt to bridge the gap between them fell flat—flowers went untouched, her favorite pastries remained uneaten, and the small notes he left for her disappeared without acknowledgment. It was as though she was erasing him piece by piece, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The silence was unbearable. He missed her laughter, the way she would light up when she spoke about her favorite books or dreams for the future. He missed the way she would reach for him instinctively, as though he was her safe harbor. Now, he felt like a trespasser in his own life, each moment with her a painful reminder of what he had broken. 

On the third night after the fight, Franco found himself sitting on their couch, his hands clasped tightly together. The room felt impossibly large, every corner of it carrying memories of better times. He could picture her curled up on the other side of the couch, her laughter filling the space as she recounted some silly anecdote or read him a passage from one of her favorite books. Now, the silence was deafening. He had spent hours going over what he might say to her, how he might begin to repair what he had broken, but words failed him.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I can’t stand this. Tell me what to do—tell me how to make this right.”

She didn’t even look at him, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. “What’s the point?” she said quietly. “You’ve already shown me what you think of me. You agreed with them, Franco. You laughed at me like I was a joke.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Franco felt the full weight of her hurt settle over him. “That’s not true,” he said desperately. “I wasn’t thinking—”

“No,” she interrupted, finally turning to face him, her eyes flashing with rare anger. “You weren’t thinking. But that doesn’t change what you said. Or what you did.” Her voice cracked, and for the first time, Franco could see just how deeply he had hurt her. “Do you even understand how small that made me feel? Like I was some kind of joke? Like I’ll never be enough for you?” 

She paused, her face now showing the pain she had been harboring beneath the surface “What else do you want me to say, Franco? That I’m hurt? That I feel like I’ll never be enough for you now? You already know that”

Her words cut deeper than any insult, the quiet resignation in her voice tearing him apart. “You are enough,” he said fervently, reaching for her hand. “You’ve always been enough. I was stupid, careless—I didn’t mean what I said.”

“But you did,” she replied, pulling her hand away. “Maybe you didn’t mean for me to hear it, but you meant it. And I can’t unhear it, Franco. I can’t forget the way you agreed with them, the way you laughed about me like I was some… inconvenience.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Franco felt his chest tighten, guilt clawing at him like a relentless tide. “I love you,” he said desperately. “I love everything about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t lose you.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find some trace of the man she had once trusted so completely. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “And right now, being with you… it hurts.”

His throat tightened as he searched for words, but there was nothing he could say that would undo the damage. “You are everything to me,” he said finally, his voice raw. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if I have to.”

-----

But words weren’t enough, and he knew it. That night, she moved to the guest room, leaving their bed and a gaping void in his heart. He lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment he had failed her, every time he had taken her love for granted. He thought of her kindness, her patience, the way she had always believed in him, even when he doubted himself. And now, when she needed him most, he had failed to be the man she deserved.

The next morning, he woke to find her gone. A note on the counter said she was staying with a friend for a few days. He stared at the words until they blurred, his chest aching with the realization that she needed space from him—that being near him caused her pain. He couldn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear.

He threw himself into trying to make amends, even if she wasn’t there to see it. He cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, cooked her favorite meals, and set the table with candles and fresh flowers every day, hoping it might offer a small measure of comfort when she returned. The evening when she finally walked through the door, she paused, her eyes scanning the room before landing on him.

“What’s all this?” she asked, her voice wary.

“I thought we could have dinner together,” he said, his voice hesitant. “I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I thought… I just wanted to do something for you.”

She hesitated for a moment before sitting down at the table. They ate in near silence, the tension between them almost unbearable. He tried to ask about her day, her friend, anything to fill the void, but her answers were curt, her gaze fixed on her plate. By the time they finished, Franco felt more defeated than ever.

As she stood to leave, he reached for her hand, his grip gentle but firm. “Please. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said. “Just tell me how to make this better.”

She looked down at him, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “I don’t know if you can,” she said softly. “But if you want to try, then stop looking for shortcuts. This isn’t about flowers or dinners. It’s about showing me that I matter to you—not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard. It’s about showing me—every day—that you love me for who I am, not despite it.”

-----

From that moment on, Franco dedicated himself to proving his love, not through grand gestures but in the quiet, unremarkable moments of daily life. He began paying attention to the things she cared about—remembering the books she mentioned wanting to read, making sure her favorite tea was always stocked in the pantry, and taking over chores she usually handled so she wouldn’t have to. He didn’t push her to talk or try to force her forgiveness; instead, he gave her the space she needed, even when it hurt to keep his distance.

The process was slow and often discouraging. There were days when she barely acknowledged his efforts, her walls still firmly in place. But there were also small victories—like the time she laughed, a soft, unguarded sound that felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Or the day she found a note he had left in her book that simply said, “I see you. And I love you.” She didn’t say anything about it, but later that evening, she made them tea and sat beside him on the couch, the silence between them no longer quite so heavy.

-----

Franco thought he was making progress. Slowly but surely, she was beginning to let him in again. The walls she’d built around herself were still there, but they had started to crack. She smiled a little more often, lingered at the dinner table to talk about her day, and once, when they were watching an old movie on the couch, she leaned into him without pulling away. Each small step felt monumental, and Franco held onto the hope that one day, she might fully trust him again.

But trust, he learned, was fragile.

It happened at a party—a glamorous event hosted by one of Franco’s sponsors. He had been reluctant to go, worried about the strain it might put on their delicate truce, but she had insisted. “You shouldn’t have to give up your life because of me,” she said. He had taken her words as a sign that things were improving between them, a sign that she was ready to be part of his world again.

The evening started well enough. She looked stunning in a sleek, dark dress, her hair framing her face. Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her, and for a moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the room. They mingled with the crowd, exchanging polite pleasantries with sponsors and fellow racers. She held her own beautifully, her sharp wit and quiet confidence earning smiles and laughter from everyone she spoke to.

Then came the moment that undid everything.

Franco had stepped away to get them drinks, and when he returned, he overheard a group of men making crude jokes about her. The words were vile—reducing her to nothing more than a pretty accessory, a trophy to be paraded around. Franco’s blood boiled, but instead of stepping in to defend her, he froze. He laughed awkwardly, muttered something dismissive, and walked away.

What he didn’t realize was that she had overheard, her expression a mask of disbelief and hurt as she stood just out of view.

Later that night, as they drove home, the tension in the car was suffocating. She stared out the window, silent, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Franco tried to fill the void with small talk, but each word felt hollow.

Finally, she turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, though he already knew.

“I heard them, Franco. I heard what they said about me. And I heard you laugh. Again.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean what? To defend me? To show them that I’m more than the joke they made me out to be?” Her voice cracked, and she turned away, shaking her head. “I thought you were different. I thought you respected me.”

“I do respect you,” he said, his voice rising. “I didn’t know what to say—I panicked.”

“Panicked?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “I was standing there, Franco. Listening to them degrade me, waiting for you to have my back. And you panicked?”

The argument spilled into their apartment, growing louder and more painful with each passing moment. By the time it was over, she was packing a bag, tears streaming down her face as she threw clothes into a suitcase.

“Please don’t do this,” Franco said, his voice raw. “Don’t leave. We can fix this.”

She stopped, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the suitcase. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said, her voice shaking. “This isn’t just about tonight. It’s about every time you’ve made me feel small, every time you’ve chosen your pride or your reputation over me. I can’t do this anymore.”

And with that, she was gone.

-----

The months that followed were the darkest of Franco’s life. She didn’t answer his calls or texts, and when he went to her friend’s house to see her, he was turned away at the door. For the first time, he had to confront the possibility that he might have lost her for good.

Franco threw himself into therapy, desperate to understand why he kept sabotaging the one thing that mattered most to him. His sessions were grueling, forcing him to confront parts of himself he had long ignored—the insecurities he buried beneath his arrogance, the fear of vulnerability that drove him to push people away.

He also began writing her letters, pouring his heart onto the page in a way he had never been able to do in person. He didn’t know if she would ever read them, but it was the only way he could process his feelings.

Months passed. Slowly, Franco began to change—not for her, but for himself. He realized that he couldn’t ask her to come back if he wasn’t willing to become the man she deserved.

Then, one day, he received an unexpected text.

“Meet me at the park tomorrow at 2.”

His heart leapt, but he forced himself to temper his expectations. When he arrived, she was sitting on a bench, her posture stiff, her expression guarded.

“I got your letters,” she said, her voice quiet.

“And?” he asked, his heart pounding.

“They were… honest,” she admitted. “But honesty doesn’t erase what happened.”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me—not yet, maybe not ever. But I want you to know that I’m trying. I’m working on myself, and not just because I want you back. I need to be better, for me. For whoever I become, with or without you.”

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “I don’t know if I can trust you again,” she said finally. “But I’m willing to try. Slowly. On my terms.”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-----

True to her word, she made Franco work for her trust. There were no shortcuts, no grand declarations that could fix what was broken. If he wanted to be in her life again, he had to earn his place every single day.

Their relationship became a fragile thread, held together by small, cautious interactions. They started meeting once a week for coffee, their conversations polite but distant. She kept him at arm’s length, her walls firmly in place. Franco didn’t push; he simply showed up, week after week, ready to prove himself.

One day, as they walked through the park after coffee, she turned to him abruptly. “Why didn’t you stand up for me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The question caught him off guard, but he didn’t shy away from it. “Because I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid of looking weak, afraid of being judged. But mostly… afraid that if I stood up for you and got it wrong, you’d see me as a failure.”

Her eyes softened, but her expression remained guarded. “And now?”

“Now I realize that failing you is worse than failing in front of anyone else,” he said. “If I ever get the chance again, I promise you, I won’t let you down.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “We’ll see.”

The weeks turned into months, and their connection began to deepen again. She started sharing more of herself, though cautiously, and Franco matched her vulnerability with his own. He told her about the therapy sessions, about the childhood insecurities that had shaped his need for control and approval. It was a side of him she had never seen before, and while it didn’t erase the past, it gave her hope that he was truly changing.

-----

It wasn’t a single moment that brought them back together, but a series of small ones—acts of kindness, vulnerability, and unwavering support. Franco became a man she could rely on, not just in words but in actions. He stood up for her, prioritized her needs, and made her feel seen and valued in every aspect of their lives.

There were moments when he doubted himself, wondering if he was fighting a losing battle. And there were nights when he lay awake, haunted by the memory of her tears, the sound of her voice breaking as she told him how much he had hurt her. Through it all, he held onto the hope that one day, she would see how much he loved her—that she would believe it, not because he said it, but because he showed it in every action, every choice he made.

One rainy afternoon, he decided to try something different. He pulled out a cookbook she had always loved but rarely used and flipped to a page with a recipe for her favorite cake. He was hopeless in the kitchen, but he wanted to try—to show her that he was willing to make an effort, no matter how small. When she came home and found him fumbling with ingredients, the sight stopped her in her tracks.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tinged with incredulity.

“Trying to make your cake,” he said, holding up a whisk like it was a weapon. “It’s probably going to be terrible, but I thought—”

She interrupted him with a soft laugh. “You’re going to burn the kitchen down.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “But I figured it was worth the risk.”

She stepped toward him, closing the distance that had felt insurmountable for so long. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her tone was warm, her eyes soft as she reached for the whisk. “Let me help you.”

As they cooked together, bumping elbows and laughing at his mistakes, Franco felt something shift. It wasn’t complete trust—not yet—but it was a beginning. And as he watched her smile, he realized that this was what love was: not grand gestures or perfect moments, but showing up, every day, and choosing each other even when it was hard.

[leoleolovesdc]

Stephanie (at least throught the 90s-00s) had a very discernible violent streak and morals that don’t really line up with tim and the other bats around her. This is kinda lost on modern comics, either because of how much she’s being sidelined or as an attempt to soften her character and make her more likeable, but i genuinely think it was a interesting part to her characer that we should bring back.

Steph is sort of angry and reckless, she became spoiler without any training because she needed to get her father out of her and her mother’s life permanently, and she didn’t care for the implications of what she had to do to get there.

In her debut, you can see how desperate and impatient she is, she was tired of all the harm arthur caused to her family and of the helplessness of never being able to do something about it. It’s just a lot of bottled up anger you can tell she’s been struggling with for years, so when she finally finds a way to channel it onto something good (you can argue on how much good beating up criminals would really do, but this is from steph’s pov) it immediately leads up to her being ready to murder her father on the first opportunity she gets.

And even after bruce convinces stephanie to Not Kill Him, she still expresses multiple times how she doesn’t care for men like her father and saving them is a waste of her time. She is usually pretty willing to let “bad” people die because, as she sees it, their lives aren’t more important then the ones they ruined.

I wouldn’t say steph has very “strong” opinions on murder like jason, for example, does, but she definetly has a detachment to bruce, cass and tim’s morals that end up pushing her into a place of distrust with all of them at some point or another. She is willing to adapt to what her teammates (on the occasions where she did get to feel like a part of a team) expect of her in a mission because she values their opinion of her and wants to receive proper support and training, but it doesn’t make her dislike the kind of people who’s lives she is told to care about any less.

In the short time steph had as robin that trend of loose morals in comparison to the bats really continues, like in that one story where a guy she hit recklessly doesn’t die by pure luck and when bruce is scolding her about it she just goes “he was a serial killer, so really, why should i even care?”, or when she has that talk with batgirl after having to be stopped from beating the shit out of the penguin and ponders a bit about “when does it end? Am i really that wrong for wishing we could just take guys like this out of our lives?”.

It’s a very noticeable highlight on this aspect of stephanie right near the end, and it builds up to when she is fighting fo her life against black mask and finally manages to get the upperhand. It’s not the first time she has someone’s life on her hands but it is the first time she hesitates, maybe because the stakes are higher now, but mainly it’s just because of how guilty she feels for the gang war, for fucking it up with batman and for orpheus’ death. When she lets black mask live it’s not because she thinks it’s the right thing or because she doesn’t want to blow his brains out, it’s out of respect for bruce, because she feels like she already ruined everything, she should have known better and she owes him something, so she does what batman would do. And then that gets her killed.

So, let’s be real, why should i think that after all of this, after her father ruined her mother’s life, after she watched hundreds of children get killed and traumatized by monsters like the penguin, after the one time she tries to follow the damn code it kills her, should she have any notion that murdering is wrong if when she’s looking back on it, killing a bitch would have solved all of her problems from day one?

Being a Stephanie Brown fan is so annoying sometimes because you read about this child consistently trying to commit murder since her literal debut just for some random writer and those “batboys” mfs go around saying that she thinks murder is wrong

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[bucktommyscones]

I promise I'm not trying to fight here I really just want to talk like adults. No one's telling you not to ship bucktommy. It's fandom, you can do whatever you want! That's the beauty of it! What's unfair to your fandom peers (and cast and writers) is the insistence that "The Story Is Wrong" when it's literally just the one they're telling.

Tommy served the same function as any other love interest Buck had before - to further HIS character development - and i dont see any bt fans calling for more Taylor or any of the other female love interests he's had. It's not buddies being spiteful, I promise. We're equally just here trying to have our fun. And no matter what interpretations either "side" has, it doesn't matter. Tim and co are gonna write what they write and from the get-go theyve said explicitly that Tommy is a temp character. Just like the women before him (which I get, it IS sad, but its the formula they've used for 8 season and not changing anytime soon) only there to further Buck.

I've been watching since s2 so def does feel like we're stuck in a timeloop some times but hey comfort show avjdhdkshdjdj

Hope you do read this but its okay if now! Would love to talk more about this stuff though if you're down!

Yeah, I know who this is because I blocked you for a reason. This is all sweet and syrupy and such, but as long as your side is still bullying a man for doing his job, then I'm not entertaining any type of conversation about this. Receipts if you need them are below. Work on calling this shit out and maybe I'd entertain a conversation. I'm not holding my breath.

[brownnbears]

Yeah as I suspected the end of Arcane was incredibly unsatisfying and just too busy. They tried to cram so many characters and situations in all at the same time and it just made it to where everything they intended to be emotionally impactful didn’t even have any time to sink in before the next thing happened. Mel, Isha, Cait, Jinx, Vi, Jayce, and Ekko all had way too much in their story for just 9 episodes. With the amount of stuff they wanted to put in there it should’ve been like 4 or 5 seasons AT LEAST.

I’m incredibly upset with how they finished with Jinxes character. They strayed so far from the 2 sisters plot and at the end they had no idea how to wrap it up so they pulled a stupid emotionless cliché.

Spoilers past this point

I was sick of the whole Vander Beast thing after like the 2nd episode. He either should’ve stayed dead since the beginning or died when Isha blew them up. Essentially him and Victor surviving meant Isha sacrificed herself for nothing.

There was a whole scene where Jinx was literally trying to end her life and Ekko came to tell her that she could break the cycle by making the world better rather than killing herself. I believed her whole arc was going to finally breaking free from her past and moving on with her life as someone new, her true self unrestrained by Vi or Silco or anyone. So she could make a world that Isha would’ve been happy to live in.

And then all that gets thrown out the fucking window because they wanted to pull a “oh the evil sister sacrificed herself for the good sister so that in her final moments she’s good ohhh aren’t you feeling emotional right now” literally makes me sick. A pointless death and a waste of a character, honestly a waste of a couple of characters because everything Ekko said? Meaningless now. Isha’s sacrifice? Meaningless. Jinxes character arc for the last 2 years? Doesn’t matter just poof. All so Vi can do the same thing she’s been doing since day 1. Genuinely what did Vi learn or gain from Jinx sacrificing herself other than another stone on the pile of “people I killed indirectly by being ignorant.” It’s genuinely fucking stupid lmao

[washed-brain]

This. This and this. I’m absolutely utterly obsessed with the dynamic of NON-black and white characters in this game. James is not a villain. James definitely chose an action of extreme violence and unwell behavior but that’s the entirety of the story. His hands almost become entirely not his own. His grievances with his wife being sick, being helpless and trying and trying and trying only to have it still come to a sour, bitter moot point. He’s literally exploding internally with the pains of what he is having to experience. Which for many, by and large. This isn’t a relatable thing. Many don’t have to succumb to the idea of being a stable foundation/caretaker for their partner or loved one at such an age. Many struggle with just taking care of their own individual selves properly. It’s a huge undertaking to be someone’s caregiver. He is a human being, dealing with some very unsavory thoughts and feelings, alone.

And trust me— being in a very similar position with a partner who is sick, still sick and struggling with cancer for 3+ years, there are times thoughts just kind of swallow you up. You become so lost and overwhelmed that the dark almost looks light. That you do— just want it to end. You want your partner out of pain, you want to stop watching them get sicker and sicker, you want to stop listening to Drs play God and use them as a trial and error. You want them to fix the impossible. You want your partner back. You want your life back. The struggle entirely ages you. I’m 32 right now but when I tell you my own experience has made me feel older, it absolutely does. You don’t laugh anymore. You’re not excited for anything anymore. You’re just a scared, frightened creature that at any moment could just crumble or collapse. You’re anxious. You’re resentful. You’re not full of light or strength. It takes your soul slowly over and over and over. It grinds you down.

And when I tell you this game showcases that so well— god! Does it. It makes you sick and uncomfortable in a way that a horror video game usually doesn’t even scrap into. Masterpiece of writing. I love it.

I can relate to James, probably to a greater extent than most of the newer generation of the fanbase does, because I too have experienced caretaker’s fatigue and seen the shadow of depression.

My parents both got terribly sick almost around the same time a while ago, one with a fractured skull and potential brain damage, the other with a severe autoimmune disease that rendered her bedridden and gave her disfiguring skin lesions not unlike Mary’s in the game. I took extensive no-pay leaves from work to stay with them in the hospitals. Sitting on cold benches outside of the ICUs through seemingly endless winter nights, waiting and dreading to hear their names yelled out by the nurses on duty. I’d take a nap at 6am and wake up with a start at 10am. I ate instant noodles squatting outside of the ward. People joked that I looked 40 when I was only in my mid-20s.

While I never considered (or never dared to consider?) doing something as actively destructive as murdering them, I did, for several long moments, seriously ponder the possibility of running away and abandoning them. Leave them to their own devices. Death by passivity, if you will. I was young, broke, all alone, and I too wanted my so-called life - an abstract idea of being care-free - back, even though there would be no life worth living for me without the only people in this world who would ever love me unconditionally.

And looking back, I don’t actually feel ashamed for having these troubled thoughts, because it’s human nature. Unless you are dirty rich or have a social support system straight out of a Utopia, the constant grind, the exhaustion, the despair and the sword of Damocles hanging above your head will always get you in the end. Anyone who tells you otherwise is just lying.

So yeah, James’ story really hits close to home and he’ll never be just a black and white good guy/bad guy for me. I don’t condone the crime, but I understand the motivation.

[justme315]

New family 2/?

First part:

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

Fear, mention of vomit , characters being religious, curse words, mention of sexual assault, mention of dehumanization

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

I was double fucked.

There we go again, me cursing for the second time while starting my story. I promise, I'll try my best for it to be the last time I start with that kinda sentence. Really.

It's just, if I though that what happened previously was bad then what happened later that day was literally hell. Well, yeah I can imagine worse (and believe me when I tell you what happened a few days later you will actually see far worse, but I can't spoil my own story) but it was still bad. Really bad.

Okay, some creeps that enjoy the company of giants would disagree that it was bad at all. But if you're not a giant-obsessed creep (sorry for calling some of y'all out) then you'll understand why it was so bad for me. Okay, back to the story.

As you might recall, I fained mare secounds before officially meeting my moms giant fiance and his sons. Yeah, great first impression. Dad would have been proud. He was just as awkward as me but this once I won with him on 'the worst first impression competition'. Well, I hope he saw this from heaven and laughed at me.

I suppose I though I would soon be 'reunited' with him, if you know what I mean.

C'mon, I can't be the only person that doesn't get why a giant would marry a human if they actually don't have any sick intentions! I mean, everything is really outta place, those kind of relationships have basically nothing to offer. I wouldn't say I'm a traditionalist, I'm bisexual myself so that is kinda impossible, but I'm not there for "mixed-sized" marriages if you know what I mean. They weren't legal (untill like 5 years previously to the story I'm telling you) for a reason!

Shoot, I'm talking about all those things again and you'll consider me a specist. Let's get back to what happened after I fainted.

I don't really know what happened mid-time, my mind was blank after I fainted all the way to the moment I have awoken. It was probably the first time I was actually so unconscious that I can't recall anything.

When I awoken, or more likely started to regain consciousness all I remember is the feeling of warmth. It was really, really warm.

It wasn't too good for me because I had puked what, like 10 minutes before that? Yeah, throwing up again wouldn't have turned out very well for me back then.

Once I finally opened my eyes I still felt dizzy. The whole world around me was moving and I promise you I heard my heart beating so loud that I though I was dying. Well, it wasn't exactly my heartbeat, I later found out.

For a few secounds I couldn't remember what I was doing before I fainted and I couldn't understand where was I. Everything was moving, like I was in a car, but far more.. enourmous.

Crap.

I forgot about those damn giants.

I tried to figure out where I was as I sat up. Whatever I was sitting on was squishy and warm. I tried to get my balance back as my eyes started to unblur. I heard my mom's voice.

"Zack! You're awake!" she yelled out with relief.

Oh yeah. Me and my mom were together. We were going to meet up with her boyfriend and his sons. Why did I forget about that? How did I?

I touched my head, feeling it hurt. What the hell was actually happening?

"Ethan, honey can you get me closer to Zack, please?" I heard my momma's voice once again, though it now wasn't directed to me.

Wait. Ethan? I know that name from somewhere... Oh, fuck.

"Sure, auntie, whatever you ask for" I heard a manly voice echo around me. It was so low and loud that it sounded like it was coming from some concert speakers rather than a real person. I was literally drowning in this voice that seemed to sound from every direction around me. As if I were somehow surrounded by it. Was this even possible?

"Just be careful Van, don't move too suddenly, Ethan is still learning how to manage an overly trusting human" I heard another manly, yet softer voice that somehow felt even more surreal. I was starting to understand what was happening. We were with the giants. Probably in a car. I was..

The same voice that spoke less than a secound ago let out a chuckle and I swear that once I started processing the words he had said I was about to freak out again when I found another reason to.

"Dad don't say that!" the voice around me echoed louder, making me feel my heart skip a beat. My head was spinning again "Auntie, don't listen to him. I work with human kids, I know just how to handle your kind, no need to worry"

The rest of the short conversation seemed blurred out to me. I was more concerned on a discovery I made. I finally figured out my surroundings.

I was half-sitting on the lap of a giant.

Ethan, specifically.

My eyes widden, my head screamed at me to freaking run away as far as possible, my legs felt groggy, my breathing fasten as I slowly raised my eyes, first looking at a enourmous stomach covered by a white comfy hoodie, then at a neck with visible veins (which creeped the heck out of me) and finally at a face of a gigantic beast named Ethan.

His hand was reaching out to Andrew, who was driving and my mom casually walked into his opened palm from the shoulder of her 'fiance'.

My teeth bit into my lower lip before I could let out a yelp at noticing how easily the freaking 60-ish foot tall dude handled my mama, my only treasure, only family.

My mom was soon lowered in my direction and believe me when I tell you, catching eye contact with a giant was the worse ever feeling for me back then.

Ethan smiled at me with those freaking fangs of a killer and I felt my whole stomach rushing up my throat.

If it wasn't for the fact that earlier I have literally vomited everything that was inside my body I would have surely puked at that moment.

I felt my freaking soul leaving my body as the gigantic dude-beast smiled at me and eyed me up and down.

"Hey, kid. I'm Ethan"

And I was back down.

Yep, I fainted again. I know shitty thing but damn, that's freaking terrifying! You wouldn't be much better facing a giant, I assure you!

Well, they didn't let me be unconscious (or dead at that point) for long enough, my mom rushed to me and shoke me awake.

"Sweetie! You fainted again!"

Yeah, no shit mom, I was on the lap of my probable future murderer that could literally do anything to me, I had nothing to be afraid of.

"I did..?" I mumbled, rubbing my face.

Don't call me a coward, I just wouldn't say something that rude to my mama, even if it was the truth. If you were raised properly by your mother you would know not to talk like that to her (unless she's a bitch, then go ahead).

"Maybe we should actually go to the hospital" said Andrew, looking at me for a secound and then back onto the road.

"No baby, I think he is just tired. Let's get him home and give him some time to rest and then we'll decide" my mom answered.

Ethan looked down at me with now a concerned expression but didn't say anything. He seemed conflicted. I don't know what was him problem but I appreciated that he didn't touch me nor say anything to me again directly.

Even though I appreciated not being touched, it didn't take my fear away, my body was still trembling and all I wanted was to hide from his gaze.

My mom worried sick and spoke some stuff to me for the rest of the ride, but if I'm being honest, I couldn't understand even a single word she said, I was too focused on the fact that I was on the lap of this enourmous young man and his eyes never left my body.

I actually felt a little sad (don't kill me mama) that I didn't just die at the airport. I wouldn't have had to be so close to giants.

Ethan had a conflicted and even sad look on his face but I couldn't actually figure out why. Maybe it was because he couldn't kill me in front of my mom? Would that even matter to him? Or was it his father or brother? I don't think they would've minded it. I was not actually sure why me and my mom were still alive but I was grateful to God that we were. I also prayed that my mom would escape somehow, with me preferably but my hope about her realizing we were in danger was long gone.

Before I knew how many miles we had traveled, the car stopped.

"And we're home" Andrew announced happily.

Ryan left the car, not saying a word, slamming the door so hard that not only me but also (surprisingly) my mom flinched.

Ethan turned his head around to face his brother but the two never made eye contact. That was weried. What was happening between those two? Okay, I was hella scared but drama is drama! As long as I'm not a part of it I'm a fan.

Andrew signed.

"He'll be over it soon, honey" the oldest giant said, looking at my mom, making a small, reassuring smile. Even though I was terrified of the giant and his voice made my head spin unpleasantly I felt some pity inside of my heart. Andrew was a tired dad with visibly some issues with Ryan. Yeah, he was my probable future murderer but I could still pity him a little.. right?

"I'm sure he will. He just needs some time to adjust, that's all" my mom answered her fiance. I was curious what was all of this about. I got so involved in trying to figure out the situation that for a secound I forgot that those were actually giants I was thinking about and being within their reach (do not remind me that I was on Ethan's lap, please, it was as scary as it could).

"I'll talk to him auntie, he can't be this rude to you both" Ethan added into the conversation. I didn't like how he called my mom 'auntie'. It sounded as if they had a relationship. And as if it was sincere. I hated it very much. I didn't like how they tricked my mom into believing that they had no sick intentions. She was my mom. Not their "auntie" nor "Van" (it's a nickname for Vanessa if you wanna know).

"We all need to adjust. It's not easy for neither of us. Sure, for me, your dad and you Ethan it might be easier but it's still hard to change our whole lives" my mom tried to sound assuring, petting the giants hand. I flinched as I realized what she was doing but I didn't say a word, I just held my trembling hands together with more pressure.

Ethan's eyes landed on me again. I swear he looked right into my soul. He didn't seem angry, more likely sad and surprised. What was he surprised about?

"We should be heading back home." Andrew spoke again, trying to look more positive, even though it was visible it was forced. That somehow made my heart ache. If he was a human I would have felt bad for him. But he wasn't a human.

Andrew opened his door. I realized that I couldn't get out of the car on my own. I paled again. My mom noticed and came closer to me, grabbing my arm for support as I stood up. Cold sweat flew down my spine. I didn't want to be touched by either of those giants. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

I closed my eyes tightly, expecting Ethan's enormous hands to grab me forcefully and carry me home as if I were a toy. My heart was beating faster, my breathing became shallower, my legs were barely able to keep my balance.

I felt a terrible pressure in my chest, that stinging feeling you feel when you're extremely anxious, as if something was crushing you from the inside.

I waited for a second, two, ten, but the grip never came.

All that happened was my mom speaking to me:

"Why are your eyes closed? Are you feeling worse again?"

I immediately opened my eyes and looked at her confused yet worried expression. My eyes then landed on Ethan who was now even more visibly shocked and sadden. What the hell was his problem exactly? Did I look this pitiful that even a giant pitied me? Dang.

"No mama, I'm f-fine.." my voice shook way more that I intended to reveal in front of the giant. I nervously moved form one leg to the other. I realized it was the first time I spoke in front of a giant in my normal volume voice. That one sentence mumbled before that was basically a whisper.

Ethan's gaze never left me as Andrew exited the car. My mom's as well, but her gaze was less intimidating.

I still don't really know how Ethan knew but I'm sure as hell he knew way more than my mom that I was scared. She acted as if I was just sick while he.. seemed to notice.

"Would it be okay if I took you in my open palm and took you back home?" the giant man spoke in a softer, slower and more quiet voice, his hands never moving an inch in our direction. It felt surreal.. was he really asking us about consent to being held? He could just grab us. He could do anything. He didn't need our consent. Even if we said 'no' he could still do anything he wanted. But somehow.. somehow the fact that he did ask was not only shocking but also.. slightly calming.

"Ethan, honey, what a silly question, of course you can!" My mom chuckled a little, smiling at the beast ahead of us.

"Sorry auntie, but I wasn't talking to you" he smiled softly at her, showing those fangs of his a little (which surprisingly didn't scare my mom but made me take a tiny step back) and then his eyes met mine and I felt uneasy, trapped even, my body stiffen "Zack, will you allow me to get you back home on my open palm? No pressure, kid"

My heart literally stopped for a moment. I was shocked he asked me that. I knew there was pressure - my mom, the giants, no other way into the house - but he pretended to care. To actually mind how I felt about that. He also never used the words 'hold' or 'grab' and he kept emphasizing that his hand would be open. I didn't know what game was he playing but he was doing it really well since I felt a little more easy about the whole situation.

I didn't want to be touched though. I hated that idea. I hated physical touch in general but being on a giants hand, totally dependent on him was even a thousand times worse. But what I was supposed to do? He would stop pretending to be polite once I said 'no'. Also, my mom would be mad. I didn't want my last memory of her to be anger.

"Zack, sweetie, Ethan asked you a question. Answer him, so we can get back home" my mom rushed me, though the giants eyes landed on her with dissaproval (though at first I mistaken it with anger, i must confess (I might have been a tiny little bit paranoid)).

"Y-Yeah.." I mumbled, or more likely yelped at Ethan's eyes returning to me. I could barely speak with him being this close.

He didn't seem convinced and wanted to say something but we heard Andrew calling from outside the car: "Are you coming or not?"

The giants eyes scanned me up and down again and then he slowly moved his right hand and lowered it onto his lower thigh, still leaving about 6 meters between himself and me. My mom rushed to get on him palm, while I stood there, biting my lower lip. The feeling in my chest returned. I looked up for support in my mom but her eyes didn't even meet mine. But Ethan's did.

"It's alright Zack, I promise I won't drop you, I know to handle humans" he spoke softly and quietly as if trying to calm down a startled animal. Was this what I was to him? A scared kitten? Humiliating.

My mom's eyes landed on me and she then looked as if she finally realized what was actually stopping me from getting on that palm. But it was as clear as day she would not reveal that I was scared of Ethan. I don't know why, wasn't it obvious?

"Ethan, honey he is just scared he will fall, that's all. Zack don't be silly and come here" she chuckled nervously as if trying to hide a secret. Good job mom, totally not suspicious and totally not making me look like a coward. Good job.

I took a deep breath and a unsteady step ahead. It was the first time in my life that my legs didn't obey to my will. Well, it wasn't exactly my will but I tried to actually pretend like I wasn't afraid.

I looked up and Ethan looked at me with those enourmous hazel eyes full of pity and emphaty.

I finally figured out why I and my mom were still alive.

They must have viewed us as pets.

I gulped at that though. I remembered how gentle and polite I was to my first hamster - exactly like Ethan was to me now. Great, I was going to be dehumanized for the rest of my supposably short life. Lovely.

"It's alright" he cooed again, as if talking to a baby animal. It really pissed me off. I am clearly not an animal! Like damn, I am an average (maybe even a little handsome) guy, not a pet.

I actually enjoyed the fact that I was more annoyed than scared at that moment, this emotion didn't stop my legs from moving at last.

It took me a moment but I actually did get on the giants hand. The fear returned to my body. I was pretty much petrified. This was freaking unnatural. I was standing on something so squishy, warm, unsteady, so alive. I hated being held by a giant. His long fingers creeped me out the most. They twitched from time to time.

The enourmous guy spoke again "Hang on, we're heading out".

He soon stood up and exited the car. I gulped, feeling all my organs moving. Saying I was uptight was an understatement. It was like an extreme rollercoaster, only without any protection, while standing up and with an unpredictable route. I couldn't help but let out another yelp as he started walking. I couldn't really keep my balance well, but my mom held me in place.

The ground was so far away that I knew if I fell down I would 100% die. My mom somehow wasn't bothered by that. Like, we get it mom, you're a crazy, giant-obsessed, old woman but freaking have some decency and don't be elated by being in danger! (Please don't let my mom find this blog, she will kill me).

My heart was pounding faster than it physically could. I promise you, I have had a heart attack. I tried not to move, just to ensure myself that I wouldn't die falling down.

It didn't help that Ethan's eyes LITERALLY never left me. Like, how creepy can you be?

Oh.

What if I was supposed to be HIS pet?

This would have made sense. Andrew would take mom, Ethan me and Ryan was pissed off at both of them because he didn't get a pet. It sounded realistic.

My mouth went dry at that though. What would he do to me? I have heard stories of humans being dehumanized and held as pets by giants. Some kept them in cages. Some forced them to be nude in those. They would feed them trash. They would force them not to speak. They would punish any disobedience very, very harshly.

My eyes became glossy, tears began to built in them.

What would be Ethan's punishment towards me?

This question made me almost break down. What would he do to me? Would he be the "nice owner" that treats pets with care? Or would he be cruel?

I remembered my friends story, when we were back in my school. He told us about his cousin who was kidnapped by a giant. I think I told you this story before. What if my fate was similar?

What if I would be abused mentally, physically and sexually?

Oh my dearest Lord God what if that was it? What if both of them were sexually deprived creeps? What if Andrew was 'dating' my mom, becouse that was what was in his mind? Was I about to become a victim of that? Would anyone even believe me? Would anyone save me? Would anyone save my mama?

I muffled my sob. I was fucking terrified.

Lord God, please hear my prayers and save us - I prayed - Please God, don't let them harm my mom. I don't care anymore what tortures I'll go through but please save mommy.

Before my mind could take me any further we entered the house - my new prison.

It was freaking enormous but I have to admit, it was also pretty. Those dudes were freaking affluent. I wiped my eyes, trying to hide my fear. My mom's eyes now met mine.

"Is everything okay sweetie?" My mom petted my shoulder. I smiled sadly at her. We were about to die but we were together. We were a team. As long as I was with her it was okay.

"Yeah" I mumbled, hugging her, fearing it would be the last time.

"Welcome to your new home!" Andrew announced.

Welcome to hell.

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Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it 🥰 Can't wait for y'all's questions and theories!