#and what he said was 'you know i don't have any problem with that.

[inkoutsidethelines]

Hoo boy. Okay. This reply got my attention, and I'm going to do my best to answer each point you raise. Because I think this is an incredibly bad faith reading of the Jedi and the Star Wars movies in general.

The Jedi are Detached from reality as it is perceived by humans.

There is absolutely nothing in the movies that supports this claim. Nor is there anything in the movies that support your claim that the Jedi don't perceive time in a linear fashion. Yes, some Jedi get glimpses of the future, or the past, but that is in no way the same thing as fully experiencing time in a non linear fashion.

Genuinely, I don't know where you got this idea from. I can't think of a single moment from any of the movies that supports it. You have simply made up a headcanon about the Jedi and decided that it was true.

Anakin, a person who clearly suffers from borderline personality disorder which comes with symptoms such as fear of abandonment, an unstable view of the self, devaluing or overvaluing relationships to the point placing of one’s self-worth entirely in another person’s hands, and more, literally needs unconditional love and support.

Anakin does not clearly suffer from borderline personality disorder. The movies don't support that, and no interview I've ever seen from George Lucas supports that. This is, again, a headcanon that you made up and have decided it's true.

He was simultaneously considered the “chosen one” and considered a burden or a problem.

Exactly one Jedi made a big deal about Anakin being the Chosen One: Qui-Gon. That's it. The Jedi don't treat Anakin any different than any other member of their order. Heck, potentially being the Chosen One wasn't even enough to convince the Council to let him join the Order in the first place!

As for treating him like a problem/burden...well, no, not really. Not in the movies. They get frustrated when he disobeys orders, but that's a fair reaction. Obi-Wan corrects him when he's getting too emotional, but that's literally Obi-Wan's job as Anakin's Master. They're upset when Palpatine forces them to give Anakin a seat on the Council, but that has less to do with Anakin and more to do with not appreciating Palpatine trying to manage Jedi business.

And that’s not even touching on how in Phantom Menace he created strong bonds with both Qui-Gon and Padmé only to have both of the ripped away right after he’d left behind everything he knew and loved.

...I'm not sure what you expect the Jedi to do about that? Qui-Gon died, and Padme was a Queen who had to go back to her own planet.

And Anakin choose to leave Tatooine and his mother behind to try and become a Jedi. Shmi encouraged him to go! And certainly an argument can be made that a nine year old can't fully understand that decision, but Qui-Gon did his best to explain what that choice meant, and that a Jedi's way of life is hard.

Anakin made choices. So did Qui-Gon, and so did Padme. The Jedi can't help any of that.

He was NINE and being told that everything he ever learned was wrong and backwards and leads to being evil and that he needs to be perfect for anyone else to think he belonged because even the smallest mistake would just confirm their preconceived beliefs about him.

I'm going to need some references for this claim, because I don't remember ever being shown this in any of the movies.

The Jedi are shown to respect other cultures, but Jedi have their own culture and standards that one must live up to in order to be a Jedi. There's nothing wrong with that! The Jedi are allowed to have their own culture, and they're allowed to have standards about who can join them.

Anakin never would have become anything like Vader without Sidious leading him.

It's quite possible that this is true. Though he did murder a whole tribe of Tusken Raiders, women and children included, years before he became Vadar. That being said, no amount of lies and manipulation from Sidious excuses the choice Anakin made to betray the Jedi and murder younglings.

That was a choice that Anakin made. Sidious didn't force his hand. Anakin made the decision that the chance of saving Padme - from a fate he didn't know for sure she'd experience! - was worth betraying the Jedi, worth murdering younglings, worth overthrowing the Republic and turning it into an Empire.

Anakin doesn’t view Padmé as a possession, I don’t know why anyone would think that.

Well - to stick to a movie example, since you indicated you don't consider the Clone Wars show to be canon - it could be because he never bothered to consult her in his "I will murder a bunch of younglings and help Sidious start an Empire to save Padme's life" plan, to see if she was actually okay with it. And once she finds out after the fact, and she IS NOT okay with it, Anakin responds by Force choking her.

That's why I call Anakin selfish and possessive. Because ultimately, he didn't care about Padme's feelings or opinions. Even if Anakin had been right that she was definitely going to die and Sidious would save her, Padme still would not have agreed to wiping out the Jedi and destroying the Republic to save her own life. Anakin doesn't just betray the Jedi and the Republic. He betrays Padme, her beliefs and values, because he can't stand the thought of being without her.

As for the unconditional love you say he needed? Padme did love him unconditionally. She loved him after he murdered a whole tribe of Tuskan Raiders. She loved him when she knew he was lying and keeping secrets from the Jedi Order that trusted him. She loved him after he betrayed the Jedi Order and the Republic, offering to run away with him and live hiding out from the Empire with their baby. Padme loved Anakin unconditionally and it wasn't enough for him.

Because Anakin was selfish. And he wanted everything. And he couldn't have it.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

[imagitory]

I've never been more heartbroken in my life.

I was gobsmacked in 2016, don't get me wrong. I was devastated and frightened and shaken beyond words. I even had to go behind a wall and collect myself at one point that horrible November 9th, 2016, after colliding with a man wearing a red MAGA hat at work. A good chunk of us at work talked amongst ourselves about it, offering each other comfort.

But this? This is different. I could imagine dumb people making excuses for voting for Trump in 2016 -- saying that they thought a businessman would be good for the economy, saying that they wanted someone who wasn't a "Washington insider" like Hilary Clinton. Sure, it was stupid, but people can be stupid. Quite frankly, a lot of people are stupid, in this country and otherwise.

But now? Anyone who voted for Trump now has voted for a man who not only rounded up immigrants and put them in concentration camps separated from their families; bungled the response to COVID-19 so badly that the American death toll easily surpassed every other country on Earth; has poisoned the Supreme Court to the extent that they overturned years of precedence with Roe V. Wade and has basically given Trump cart-blanche to do whatever he wants while he's president; was the first president in history to refuse to concede on election day; was impeached for crimes in office not once but TWICE; was instrumental to and passionately supportive of the full-on attempted coup at the U.S. capitol on January 6, 2021 that could've very easily resulted in the deaths of his own Vice President and multiple members of Congress; has spoken glowingly of despots like Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Un and even said he will be "a dictator on day one" if elected again; has both used slogans originally used by modern American Neo-Nazis ("America First") and purportedly told one of his ex-subordinates that he wanted generals like Adolf Hitler's...but also has by the day proven more and more just how mentally inept, vindictive, and mean-spirited he truly is.

And unlike in his previous races, Trump is ahead in the popular vote too. We can't just blame this on the electoral college being antiquated and gerrymandered AF like in the Trump-Clinton or Bush-Gore elections. Even if all of the third-party voters in this country had grown a bloody brain cell and voted for Harris so as to show solidarity against Trump and his form of American fascism, it still somehow wouldn't be enough. We could potentially blame this on lower voter turn-out -- according to what I'm seeing so far, even with all the votes not counted in this race yet, it looks like there were far less votes cast this election than in the last one, though likely still more than the 2016 race. But even so, I don't think that's the only problem. I truly think there were just a lot of people who turned out en-masse to vote for Trump. And all I can think in regards to those people is...

This is beyond stupidity or even selfishness. This is cruelty. This is large swaths of people deciding that they want fellow American citizens to suffer -- because in their minds, if those people suffer, that'll somehow make them happy. This is a large chunk of America saying, "yeah, you know all that crap about 'liberty and justice for all'? Screw that, I want a 'strong man' to bully people different from me for my own amusement." And -- perhaps -- there's also an element of feeling like their vote doesn't really have any consequences for them, so why should they care if the man they voted for is a god-awful person? It's not like that man will hurt them.

I had hoped. I had hoped, seeing the outpouring of support from liberals, independents, and conservatives for Harris/Walz. I'd hoped, seeing how many ex-Trump appointees were standing up against him, how much people were shouting their disdain for Project 2025 from the rooftops, and how many women were protesting in the face of Roe V. Wade being overturned. I truly had started to hope that America would prove we'd grown beyond our country's own original sin -- how our United States preached freedom for all while still being built on the backs of slaves and refusing to grant a vote to over half their population -- by electing a smart, successful, charismatic woman of color who sees our country as great in potential and wants us to pursue that potential as our first female president, rather than backtracking all the slow progress we've made over the last 200+ years.

But now...my hope has faded. My heart is in pieces and the world is so dark. I hardly know how I'll function at work tomorrow, even if I know somehow, I have to try. We'll all have to stand somehow. Somehow, someway...we'll have to find the strength. We'll have to stand, and we'll have to keep moving forward, even when it feels like we're a Little Mermaid walking on knives.

We'll have to stand.

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 7

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I'm sorry for anyone on my tag list who haven't been getting the notifications that I posted. I'm not sure what the problem is or why it's doing that. If anyone knows how to fix it please let me know.

Enjoy this chapter

Chapter 7

A storm rages outside, thunder booming, causing the house to shake each time. Y/n doesn’t have curtains in her room so every flash of lightning lights up the room causing the omega to toss and turn unable to sleep. 

With a huff she looks at the clock on the nightstand to see it’s about three in the morning when another loud clash of thunder shakes the house once again causing her to sit up, shaking a bit in fear. She wonders if anyone else is up because of the storm or if she’s the only one. 

The alphas told her if she ever needed anything at night to just go to their room and Felix said if she wants to cuddle but she feels silly going to one of them because of a storm. She’s not afraid necessarily but she just doesn’t like how the thunder shakes the house and the sound of rain that normally soothes people irritates her. 

With a sigh she gets up deciding that she’ll go downstairs and maybe watch tv in the living room or game room to keep her occupied and distracted. Walking past everyone else’s rooms as quietly as possible she makes it down stairs stopping in the kitchen first to grab a glass of water. After gulping down most of it, setting it down on the counter, thunder boomed causing her to jump and the kitchen light turned on. 

“What are you doing up?” Chan walks in having been the one to turn the light on after seeing her jump from the thunder. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

The alpha shakes his head no. “I’m a light sleeper, anyone walking past my room I hear. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Y/n leans against the counter. “Just  having trouble sleeping, I don't really like storms.” 

Thundering crashing causes her to tense up. 

“Why didn’t you come to one of us?” 

Y/n blushes feeling embarrassed. “I felt it was silly to need comfort just because of a storm”

“We get it, Felix doesn’t like storms either.” He tries to help her feel better. “Pretty sure I heard him go to Hyun’s room when the storm first started.” 

“Oh.” She now feels stupid for thinking it was silly.

“Baby girl, we’re here if you need anything, even if it’s something as small as needing to be with someone during a storm.” He moves to her and pulls her to him. “Why don’t we head to my room? You can sleep in my bed.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” Y/n protests. “I’ll be okay.”

“You’re a real stubborn omega.” Chan huffs, gently grabbing her around the waist, throwing her over his shoulder making her squeal a little and walks up stairs after turning the kitchen light back off. “You’re not getting a choice in this.” 

Y/n huffs accepting her fate letting him take her to his room, pulling the blankets back and placing her in the bed tucking her in. 

“I normally sleep without a shirt, is that okay?” He asks hovering over her. “If not I can sleep with it on tonight, I don’t mind.” 

“It’s okay.” The omega whispers. “I want you to be comfortable too.” 

He smiles down at her before taking his shirt off causing her to blush as she sees how muscular he is. She turns away as he climbs in the bed next to her getting situated. 

“Is this okay?” He checks in on her since she’s turned away. When she hums a yes he smirks before wrapping an arm around her and pulls her so her back is against his chest. “What about this?” 

“This is fine.” She mumbles, glad he can’t see her as she’s blushing so hard right now. 

“Good.” Chan hums snuggling her closer to him if that was even possible and kisses the top of her head. “Goodnight baby girl.”

“Goodnight Channie.” 

The next morning Y/n wakes up alone in Chan's bed with a headache. She heads downstairs to find anyone. 

“Where is everyone?” She asks Jisung as she walks in the kitchen.

“Chan and Changbin had to go into the office one last time this week. They normally don’t have to go in more than once a week but because of your dry heat starting tomorrow or the day after they decided to head up there to make sure everything is good since we don’t know how long it could last.” He starts to explain. “Minho had one of his advanced dance classes today as well as a one on one so he’ll be back in a little bit. Felix went with Hyunjin to teach his art class at the community center in town. Seungmin is around here somewhere and Jeongin is in the home gym.”

The omega nods but quickly regrets it as it makes her head hurt worse.

“Are you okay?” 

“Have a headache.” She whimpers, placing a hand against her temple. “Didn’t really sleep well last night because of the storm.”

“Oh, you don’t like storms either like Felix?” He hums in understanding and grabs her arm leading her to the living room. “Why don’t you lay down on the couch for a bit? I’ll get you a glass of water. I’m about to go take a walk around the property anyways so it’ll be quiet down here for a bit. I’ll tell Jeongin and Seungmin to keep it down too.” 

“Thanks Ji.” She smiles, laying down on the couch as he places a blanket over her. 

He brings her a big cup of ice water placing it on the coffee table as well as places the house phone with it. 

“If you need anything my cell is speed dial five. Jeongin’s is eight but he’s got music playing in the gym so he might not hear his phone ringing.”

She gives him a weak smile before he leaves through the back door making sure his ringer is turned up all the way in case she calls. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Seungmin sits in his room strumming his guitar, a little annoyed after Jisung had messaged him saying to keep it down because the stupid omega has a headache. He’s really getting irritated with her presence and doesn't understand how almost all of his other mates are accepting of her. He’s just glad he has Hyunjin on his side. 

Needing to get his anger and frustration out he decides to head out to the batting cages Chan had set up for him in the field in the back near the shed. But that all changes when he walks out of his room and smells a distressed scent and his beta starts telling him that his fated mate is in pain. 

He runs downstairs as quickly as possible, scared it might be Jeongin as he knows he’s been in the gym and remembers how Jisung once had to save Changbin when he was being crushed by weights. What he wasn’t expecting though was to find the omega in the living room, writhing in pain as she clutches her lower stomach, moaning and whimpering in pain. And he realizes it’s her his beta is telling him is in pain.

“Fuck, fuck.” Seungmin runs over realizing her dry heat has started sooner than the others had expected and now that the suppressants have worn off he can fully smell her and his beta is telling him that she is in fact his fated mate. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here.” He shushes her while rubbing her beck, trying to put out calming pheromones but she’s in too much pain for it to help. “I’m going to move you to the den, okay?” 

He picks her up and realizes just how light she is as he carries her to the den and settles her into the nest. He grabs one of the heating pads Minho bought, placing it where she’s clutching. She’s sweating and is hurting and he doesn’t know what to do. 

He brushes her hair out of her face to see if she’d look at him but it’s as if she’s not aware of anything around her. 

“Fuck.” He growls, pulling his phone out and dials Chan's number. 

“Hey Minnie, miss us already?” The alpha tries to joke. 

“It’s Y/n.” Seungmin pants knowing he can hear the fear in his voice. “She started her dry heat. I don’t know what to do. She’s whimpering in pain and clutching her abdomen. I moved her to the den and gave her the heating pad but she’s sweating and doesn’t seem to be aware of anything right now.”

“Fuck.” Chan groans then says something to someone else in the background. “Alright, Changbin and I are leaving now, we’ll be home as soon as we can. Where’s Innie and Ji?”

“Umm, Ji went out on his daily calming walk and Innies in the gym, but I’m too afraid to leave her alone.” Seungmin is frantic as he looks around. “I don’t know how to help her hyung.” He whimpers. “I know now, I know she’s our fated mate and I’ve been such a dick.”

“Listen to me, Seungmin, she’s going to need you right now.” Chan speaks slowly. “She shouldn’t be alone, it can cause separation anxiety. I’ll call Innie so he can get done and shower and will take over for you if you want or will just come and help you. As well as Ji. For the meantime just lay with her in the nest, keep the heating pad on her. Try and keep your scent calm, you might need to scent her if you’re okay with doing that. If she seems to get too feverious call me back. I’ll call Felix, Hyunjin and Minho and tell them what’s going on so you don’t have to worry about it. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Okay Channie.” Seungmin takes a deep breath. “I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting and treating her.”

“It’s okay Minnie. I know you were upset about all of this, it’s okay.” Chan reassures the beta. “Just be there for her now okay? She’ll forgive you for everything, I know she will.” 

“Thanks hyung.” He sighs. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“See you soon baby.” 

Seungmin hangs up and tries to stay calm for the omega as he curls up behind her, wrapping an arm around her abdomen to hold the heating pad to her. His other hand plays with her hair as he tries to soothe her. He decided on singing to her hoping it’ll keep her calm. Her moans and whines of pain start to lessen as she relaxes against him a bit, her eyes stay closed though. 

“If you can hear me Y/n, tap my hand.” He whispers and she taps his hand lightly. “Good girl. I know you’re in a lot of pain right now but I’m right here. The hyungs and Innie will be here soon too. But I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

“How is she?” Jeongin steps into the doorway, still sweaty from working out. 

“In pain but she’s calmed down a bit now.” The beta explains.

The youngest nods in understanding, setting a glass of water down next to the nest before moving to the windows closing the curtains so the sun isn’t shining into the den. “Make sure to keep her hydrated. I’m gonna pull the curtains on the glass doors and close them, hopefully the lack of light will help with her headache as well as closing off the den will keep any loud noises from the others when they get back from disturbing her.”

“Good idea Innie.” 

“I’m gonna go shower. Jisung should be back soon.” The alpha watches them for a moment. “If you want we can take over for you when we’re back, or we can just join you guys.”

“I’ve been keeping a distance long enough.” Seungmin grunts. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jeongin smiles at him. “Alright hyung, I’ll be back.” 

“You need to drink some water. Can you sit up for me?” Seungmin looks down at the omega who groans. “I know pup but you need to stay hydrated.”

He helps her sit up, leaning heavily against his chest, groaning and whimpering with every movement as he brings the cup to her lips helping her drink.

“Minho said she should take these. They should help with her headache and cramping. ” Jisung walks in with the two pill tablets and hands them to Seungmin to help her take them. “He’s having to go pick up Felix from the community center because Hyunjin is being an ass and won’t drive him back.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes but then reminds himself that he was acting the same way the last few days. But he tries not to think too heavily on that as he makes sure Y/n takes the tablets.

After he made sure she drank a good amount of water he settles her back down as Jisung refills the cup before crawling into the nest as well. 

“I’m here Y/nnie.”

“Ji.” She whimpers but cuddles closer to both betas and they both scent her to help ease everything.

“Move over.” Jeongin walks in. “Let me have her.”

The two betas don’t want to but know that the alpha must be going crazy internally having the need to protect her. They make room for him but stay as close as they can not willing to leave her at all. 

“Alpha.” Y/n whimpers.

“I’m here omega.” Jeongin coos petting her head. “I’m here, you're safe.”

The three of them stay like that with her for a while until Chan and Changbin get home, rushing into the den. They pause when they see the betas and alpha snuggled up to her. She’s still clutching a heating pad to her abdomen and her face scrunches up occasionally in pain but for the most part she seems okay. 

“Hi hyungs.” Jeongin whispers, giving them a small smile.

“Hi baby.” Chan smiles back. “You pups did really good taking care of your omega. I’m proud of you guys.” 

When Y/n whimpers again Chan walks over and kneels next to the nest placing a hand on her cheek.

“Hey baby girl.” He whispers, she leans into his hand and opens her eyes a little. 

“She doesn't seem to be as hazy as she was when I first found her.” Seungmin mentions seeing that she’s more aware now. 

“You guys being with her probably helped a lot.” Changbin explains watching the omega. 

“We made sure she drank water and everything but she hasn’t eaten yet.” Jisung speaks up. 

“Where is she?” Felix runs through the house and into the den, but gets stopped by Changbin real quickly.

“Calm down.” He holds the younger one in his arms. “You don’t want to overwhelm her with your emotions.” 

Felix pouts but nods as he takes a few deep breaths relaxing in the alphas arms.

“Alright, everyone out.” Minho walks in with the paper bag from the doctors as well as some of Y/n’s new comfy clothes.

“But…”

“Out.” Minho interrupts Felix’s protests. “I need to make sure she gets her medicine and I’m going to help her change, so everyone get out. You can cuddle with her after I’m done.”

Changbin picks up Felix to make the omega leave as Minho walks over and switches spots with the three in the nest to help take her weight and hold her up. 

“Where’s Hyunjin?” Chan asks, still kneeling next to the nest.

“Wouldn’t leave the community center.” Minho sighs. “I told him if he’s going to be an asshole then don't bother coming home.” 

“I’ll call him while you do this, try and talk some sense into him.” Chan rubs the bridge of his nose and stands up.

“Good luck with that, he yelled at Lix and made him cry.” 

Chan growls and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Where’s your head at, kitten?” Minho asks once everyone left the den. 

“It hurts, Min.” She whines as he lifts her shirt up over her head. 

“I know baby, but let me do this real quick then you can snuggle with Felix.” He starts to rub the cream on her side then moves to her arm.

He makes her take her antibiotic then slips her new shirt on her before helping her change from sweatpants to sleep shorts. He lays her down, placing the heating pad back on her abdomen.

“Alpha.” She whines and he moves closer to her.

“I’m right here kitten, I’m not going anywhere.” He scents her, keeping her close for a moment enjoying the time alone with her. “Alright, she’s good.” 

Minho knew that Changbin and Felix were standing right outside the door and would hear him and laughs a little when Felix bolts in and crawls into the nest as quickly as possible while still being gentle and snuggles up to the younger omega. 

“Channie hyungs making her a snack while he yells at Hyunjin on the phone.” Felix tells the alpha still upset at the oldest beta for refusing to take him home and yelling at him.

“Are you okay baby.” Changbin asks Felix, joining them in the nest. 

“I am now that I’m here.” He whispers curled up with Y/n. 

The two alphas smile down at their omegas as they hope Y/n’s dry heat goes by quickly.

Tag list: @pixie0627 @sinfulfic @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl @blindspot143 @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55 @hwangrfrnd @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound @galaxy4489 @kayleefriedchicken @lostgirlinthewoodss @catkight

[jezabelle9299]

I don't know S.R x FEM! Reader

Overture-Spencer knows you're hungry, but you won't just tell him what you want.

CWs- Feeling like an inconvenience

A/N-Based on a true story (Me). Also very short, but I'm attempting to catch up because we are well into November at this point.

Spencer had learned a lot of things about you over the course of your short relationship. He knew how you liked your coffee, your favorite movies, every line from every book you’d ever recommended to him– but all of that pales in comparison to the hardest thing for him to figure out from you. Nearly every time he asked you something and you said ‘I don’t know’, the answer was yes– but you didn’t want to feel like an inconvenience. 

Whether it was something as simple as him getting you something from the kitchen, or even when he took you to the amusement park and he asked if you wanted to go on your favorite ride— the one that always had a particularly long line. You’d shrink down, and mumble a quick noncommittal response. 

And now you’d been laying on his couch for almost four hours watching an exceedingly long foreign film— without complaint, something he is endlessly grateful for— and your stomach quite literally just growled. Meaning you’d been hungry for a while, and continuously stayed silent. And to top it all off when the noise finally stopped you looked down at your own stomach as if it betrayed you. 

“Are you hungry?” He said gently, looking down at you where your face laid against his side. 

“I don’t know.” And you pushed your head further into the blanket laying over the top of you, trying to physically shrink yourself down. 

“It’s ok if you are, you know that right?”

“I know.” But you still didn’t answer his question. 

“So are you hungry?”

“Umm…” Executive decisions had to be made on Spencer’s part. 

“Alright, I'm ordering food for you. Do you have any preferences?”

“You don’t have to do that–”

“But I’d like it if you didn’t starve on my couch, because I have gotten attached to you. So– preferences?” It was said in a way that was only genuine, but you still couldn’t get your brain over the hurdle of being a perceived inconvenience. 

“I don’t know–”

“Is Italian ok?”

“Don’t you want anything?” He didn’t usually want Italian, and it was always the first thing he suggested if he wasn’t hungry— purely for your benefit. 

“Sure I’ll get something, but what do you want?”

“Well–umm” You couldn't figure out what the problem was now. You knew he wouldn't think you were an inconvenience no matter what you got, but you couldn't quite get your brain going again.

“Would you like me to just get you what you got last time?”

“Please?”

“Of course.” He gave you a small kiss on the forehead, and turned the movie back on.

[utilitycaster]

sort of an offshoot of that post about video game characters but I think I've mentioned before the third person v. first person split in D&D, namely, do you say "I attack it with my scimitar" or "Drizzt attacks with his scimitar". This is a well-known thing in TTRPGs, I'm sure you can find more intelligent discussion about it, but it's come up for me specifically in that a lot of old-school D&D players skew hard towards third person and often they are less interested in actual play, because they see D&D as a narrative tool. There's no self-inserts; they are narrating the exploits of a guy they made. And so the parasocial elements (which are not necessarily bad, it just depends, and that's another post) have no appeal, and even things like accents don't really.

I don't think third person vs. first person necessarily means "not a self insert vs. self insert." I switch between the two and often use first person. But I don't feel like any D&D character I've played is a self-insert. They have aspects of me, sure, because of course they do, I need to be able to play them and try to think like them, but I think in a game where death and failure are really possible and where you must collaborate and where your options are rather limited - because even in D&D, they are limited by the type of game it is - it's actually vital to separate yourself out from your character.

It comes down to something I've said a lot about so many things in fiction (but yeah, this does bleed into real life): are you able to accept a character who is not like you? Are you able to accept a character who might make wildly different choices than you would? Is your capacity to empathize or see a character as a person limited by them specifically hitting some demographic or philosophical targets you have constructed? Can you, even in a low risk, fictional environment, let yourself be different from how you are.

this seems very silly but I think I may have alluded to Justin McElroy talking about not being able to play fat characters in most games, and so he often just plays characters who do not look a thing like him. He often plays as a woman of color. (I don't recall where this came up? I think it might have been on an ancient polygon video or maybe commentary on one of the TAZ seasons? I'd love to find it again). And I think that's actually really great that this was his instinct. I don't want to diminish the importance of RPGs and TTRPGs for self-discovery; obviously it's been a place for many people to explore gender and sexuality, especially, and I do not want to take away the ability for someone to play as a woman in a game before you feel like you can live as a woman publicly in real life (and notably my issues with the BG3 and Inquisition player characters are not ones of gender/sex/race, ie, I think it is personality and background that might need to be more pre-determined). But yeah, if you cannot connect with characters who aren't like you that's a problem, and it does feel a little frustrating that we know that centering a self-insert OC type makes for a worse story and people still want that.

I've always been intrigued by pre-made sheets in TTRPGs where you are limited in some way, not in a dumb "oh my god you can't play a druid bc I'm a weird vindictive dude mad that your nature magic beats my weaponry" way but just as an exploration of having to walk a mile in other people's shoes and to be a person other than one that you created to exist within your comfort zone. Because a lot of people aren't Justin, and do play themselves or as close to it as they can, regardless of what is happening around them, and I think that is a mistake.

[captnbunnie]

Oh man, I had been waiting to read this post!! Problem was that everytime I remembered I could not find where I saved it haha (spoiler: it was on my own chat lol)

Anyways, oooh this is very interesting!! It makes Odysseus such a human and complex character, it's incredible the levels of mastery that Homer had with his sotries!

Honestly everytime I read one of your analysis I cannot stop myself from comparing the Odyssey to Epic, and it just makes me realise more and more how much the musical missed and what we could have had! The idea of listening to a musical in which Odysseus is helpless in the face of fate, where he does his best in saving his men, having an objective that is not just about him (seeing Penelope and Telemachus again) but is about all the men that are with him (trying to save the most men he can and take them home with him), just gets me yearing for one!

I still keep thinking about that post you made about Circe, how it would have been so much better if we'd have seen Odysseus not being able to reject Circe's proposal, and him just calling to Penelope and the gods,,, and then later how it would have sounded if instead of "embracing" violence, he had just felt depressed and humiliated after Charybys and Calypso, with only his desire to see his family and kingdom again to push him forward, maybe also as a tribute to remember the sacrifice of his men and their efforts during the war and the travel,,,

I really don't like much how he became a violent beast in the last saga, I think it's very out of character for him (as if everything that happened earlier wasn't lol), but as you said in many other of your posts, I think it would have had a better inpact if the end point of the travel was to show a desperate man trying to come home but left to face the force of nature alone. I think it really does a better job at translating how, even if he has all the resolution in the world, even if he has a very strong wish, even if he tries his best, it does not mean that he'll be able to get what he wants. It doesn't mean anything in the face of reality and nature and fate, much stronger forces then a mere man. I truly enjoy those kind of stories much more because they portray something real, something that could happen to all of us. Instead Epic decided to go to the more "edgy" route, which maybe I would have appreciated more when I was younger haha.

Also while reading this I was listening to "Monster" (one of the songs of the Underworld saga) and it made me just yearn harder for a different adaptation of the Odyssey in Epic haha because I think that that song, if taken out of context (so ignoring everything else that happens in Epic) maybe could have been a song that represented Odysseus in a more "just" way?

Before continuing, I gotta say that I've read only some excerpts and some analysis of the Odyssey, so what I'm about to say might be very wrong haha (but that's why I'm sharing my toughts with you, cause I'm curious to know what you think about this)

Anyways, I think it would be actually a nice song related to him, I really like how he shows empathy towards his "enemies", after all, if I didn't read those scenes wrong, he does the same in the Odyssey. When he enters Polyphemus' cave, even if he knows he might be in danger, he still decides to follow xenia and give Polyphemus a chance to show hospitality (even if it doesn't work out), he is also shown to give Calypso sympathy, when he is about to get home, and see things from her point of view (even after all she did to him). So I think it's a good moment of self reflection for him, it shows that he is not in search for enemies but he just wants to go home.

Even the way he talks about Poseidon, saying "Or does he keep us in check so we must respect him / And now no one dares to piss him off?" I think it does reflect in a way what the Odyssey, or just any myth, tries to warn men about, respecting gods and nature because they are bigger forces that cannot be contrasted (which is very ironic if interpreted like this, because the last saga shows us the exact opposite lol)

And the last verse too "Does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping trojans cause he is vile? / Or does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile" I think it could go along with what you say in this analysis, that he makes decisions that others cannot to save as many people and lives as he can (even if he doesn't get many results,,,) and it also highlights how some people say that he played "dirty" with the wooden horse, but here it makes you realise why he did so, and that his plan is as honorable as attacking directly is.

The only thing that I think is kinda out of place in this interpretation of the song is that here he says that he still has to become "ruthless" to save his men, thus becoming a "monster", which I feel undermines what I said until now, that is that what he did, what others tought was "playing dirty", is actually that, an unjust plan.

Anyways, all this just to say that your analysis have been plaguing my mind and I keep thinking about a different version of Epic, and this song absolutely dealt a blow on me because, it has potential!!!! And yet, it's not used. It makes me yearn so hard for a true adaptation of the Odyssey.

I feel like if one were to adapt the Odyssey with songs, it would be a much better fit a musical series , like hazbin hotel haha (yeah, I want the songs that badly, I love musicals XD)

(Sorry if I started talking about Epic under such a good analysis of the Odyssey, I know that it seems kinda out of topic (and it probably is), but I don't think a comment would have been fit to write all this stuff haha)

Why didn't Odysseus's crew stage a mutiny against him in the Odyssey? (An analysis based on Homer's Odyssey)

It has been a while since the last time I did some Odyssey Analysis and here is an interesting question that goes on in this. A very valid question actually.

During the arduous trip in the Odyssey, the Cephallinians suffered greater loss than anything they suffered at the 10 year war at Troy. They lost almost all ships and all men were dying. They were reduced to a ship of a crew with less than 40 people and they didn't seem to get much hope. So of course one could ask; what was holding them back and didn't fight back against Odysseus apart from the indirect mutiny they did when he turned his eyes away from him to pray? Why their only mutiny was to disobey his orders and slay the cattle of Helios Hyperion? Surely more than 30 men could do plenty of damage to one man right? Why didn't they? And why is it important for the story?

So while thinking about it I came down with some possible explanations as to why that happened;

Odysseus was beloved to the gods

Regardless of their terrible situations, Odysseus probably still had the fame of someone beloved to the gods. He used to be directly communicating with Athena and was under her protection. Despite the fact that he was cursed by a god, there could be some sort of a thought running to their minds; what if we harm him and the gods strike us for it? What if there will be consequences for directly wishing harm to one who was blessed to be appreciated by gods? It could possibly be a risk that they didn't want to take. And it makes sense given how much Odysseus interracted even with minor gods during the trip (for example Aeolus or Circe). Quite frankly they might as well have wished that at some point Odysseus would appeal to yet another god for help.

Odysseus was beloved to his subjects

If you look at my other analysis here You can remember how beloved leader Odysseus was even to subjects such as slaves who in theory would have no real reason to be loyal to him. Odysseus seemed always to be a just and beloved leader and his men on the ship were not an exception. Regardless of whether they had lost faith hin him in his capability to bring him home or if they doubted his judgement, they couldn't get past the emotional connection; Odysseus had protected them during the war to the point of suffering the least possible losses, during the trip he was going to extreme measures to protect them (even the cruel misadventure in which Odysseus cut the rope from his ship to save the last ship from the Laestrygonians might as well have spoken volumes to the men that were saved). It would be hard for them to completely ignore that even in the face of mistrust. Somehow it would also be them thinking that they "owe him" till that part.

Odysseus was hiding stuff from them that could be important

Ironically the very source of their mistrust was protecting Odysseus. Odysseus didn't share with them the nature of the sack of Aeolus even if he seemed pretty clear that they couldn't touch it (and that led to their first tragedies). Later he hid the information that they would have to go through the Sirens till the very last moment where he warned them about it. Later he hid completely the information that they would go through Skylla and Charybdis. His men could think "How many more things did this man know on their way home and hid it from them?" if they captured or killed him in a mutiny how were they sure there weren't more dangers ahead that Odysseus was hiding from them and could either be informed the last moment or not at all? What guarantee did they have that Odysseus didn't know even MORE about their course? They had none. So ironically the very reason they began to mistrust him in the first place became the reason Odysseus was safe from their rage.

No one wanted to take responsibility at time of crisis!

Last and definitely not least comes for me the most important reason of all at least story-wise that shows how excellent writer Homer is into writing human nature. His men didn't stage a mutiny because no matter how displeased they were with his decisions, literally NO ONE wants to have the same responsibility to take decisions in time of crisis! Honestly, how many times do common folk feel themselves find a scapegoat usually to the face of their leaders when things go south? (and for good reason that is given that they are the ones with the responsibility to take decisions). When something goes wrong we blame the leader, the government or someone that has come forth and not only takes the decisions but also is responsible for the blame as well.

During their arduous trip Odysseus took some of the most painful decisions they could imagine in order to save what he could; he advised them to leave the Cicones and they didn't which led to their first tragedy; he tried to correct his mistake by appeasing the god Aeolus, he took the decision to sacrifice his ships in order to save the one he could knowing full well that they would never be able to fight against the Laestrygonians. He knew the 11 ships were lost cause so he acted fast cutting the ropes of his own ship and sailing away, making sure to save what he could even if that meant to the terrible loss. He traveled to the underworld even though he was alive, he chose Skylla over Charybdis knowing that the sacrifice would be too great but still not as great as to lose them all.

Regardless of their emotions at that moment; they put themselves in his shoes and realize that none of them would take the burden of leadership and take those decisions for them. Odysseus with his nerves of steel managed to save them so far even if they had so many losses and undoubtedly they realized that in his shoes they would never be able to act so efficiently and so fast. And knowing their own reactions against him; blaming him for the losses, they realize that none of them would have the guts to take not only the painful decisions but also the blame and hate that follows them. Odysseus was lifting on his shoulder as much hate and anger as very few others; not only his previous experiences at war and his actions but now his decisions of the trip. I have no doubt that even in their anger the men admired how he could carry it all.

Conlcusions:

Homer is a master of words and plot. I have no doubt that if he thought it served the plot he would have mentioned his men staging a full on mutiny against Odysseus or in one way I am almost certain he thought of the possibility being quite doable given as I said above that Odysseys was one man and the others were over 30. However knowing how great he is in protraying human emotions to his writing I think his choice of plot was deliberate.

Not only was Odysseus someone that could erupt not only controversy but also superstition given his close relationship with gods before, his leadership was always admirable regardless of the results (knowing his prudent nature and how plenty of his orders that were disobeyed ended up in a tragedy and let's face it Odysseus was also a brilliant fighter. I doubt anyone would easily take the first step to fight him one on one either!) and above all he was one of the best when it came on taking some really difficult decisions, carrying on his back not only the personal guilt he felt while taking them but also the anger of others and their retalliation. And in an amazingly human writing Homer speaks on times of crisis. When people do not wish to take responsibility at times of Crisis because they know full well that their decisions rarely ever would be painless!

Therefore they couldn't retalliate against him; they didn't want the responsibility of leadership or the blame for the losses. They didn't want to stand against authority directly either. So they took the indirect mutiny decision; when authority is not present they disobey or they break their will when the force of authority.

Could we perhaps one more time appeal to the usual theory of "unreliable storyteller" and speak on how Odysseus doesn't want to mention a mutiny in his story to Phaeakes because he doesn't want to appear as weak leader in their eyes?

We could but in my opinion this doesn't seem likely. Odysseus is already humiliated; shipwrecked and a beggar in their house. He mentioned how it was ellegedly his fault that the whole domino of reactions began when he mentions how he was yelling to Polyphemus being blasphemus that not even Poseidon could put him back together if he had killed him (which let's face it is too much given that gods had no probelm resurrecting some dead before). He had already mentioned his men not listening to him and disobedience was already a heavy thing. He didn't hide most of the unpleasant experiences during the trip so why miss the opportunity of shifting the blame to his men, saying that they stage a mutiny against him thus himself being unable to react instead of stating that he fell asleep during the prayer? To show that his men fear him so they do not dare to face him? Perhaps but it seems unlikely given the whole story in which Odysseus doesn't hide his bad sides from them.

What do you guys think? Let me know to your comments and reblogs below! ^_^

[bronx-bomber87]

Hi!! I just spent the last hour scrolling through your page and I adore everything you have to say about tim and lucy…

So I was curious (because I’m a month into the fandom and I don’t really know anyone yet) what your thoughts, predictions, expectations for season 7 would be?

Sorry if you’ve posted something similar before, please point me in the right direction if you have :)

- Loren

Hi! @moderatelydelusional Nice to meet you, Loren. Thank you for the lovely ask :) Making me all red with your nice comment. So glad you liked everything I've had to say about our lovely ship. Appreciate it so much. Before I answer I want to say welcome to the fandom! We are glad to have you here. 😊 There are so many good blogs on tumblr for them. Glad you chose me as one of them. I am honored. ❤️ I haven't really tackled s7 at all so this is a good ask. Excited to answer it. I'm a detailed woman. So imma break your question down into sections if that's alright. I legit don't know how to be brief about this show or them haha Also will do it with gifs cause that's my thing. Here is my detailed answer below. Hope you enjoy it.

Thoughts on S7- Well we've had ZERO and I mean ZERO spoilers or indicators about this upcoming season. Which I do love them keeping it close to the vest. Honestly I do. Just means they have something incredibly good lined up. They just want to make sure we are surprised. Can't fault them for that. But I'm dying for anything. The end of s6 left us wanting so much more with the scene above. We are all chomping at the bit for any content. I know Eric had a interview couple weeks back about s7. From what little he was able to divulge I am EXCITED.

Here is the link to it. Talks about Tim needing to EARN Lucy back in more ways than one. How she is the love of his life. (Tell us something we don't know haha) But I love Eric referring to her to as such. The personal development for Tim to come as well. Like I said they haven't given us much of anything yet. It's hard to have thoughts when we don't have much to go on. But it seems like it'll be well rounded season. It's always been a character driven show so I think it'll be more than just our ship. Which is fine with me. It is an ensemble cast after all.

I fell in love with this show as a whole when it first launched back in 2018. Give me more Tim/Angela, Lucy/Nyla and Wopez. I'll take all of that. I have been all in from the Pilot. I remember watching it on my lunch break on my phone when it first premiered. I was hooked. When we finally get a promo and a friggin premiere date I can probably be more in depth with my answer. Since we don't have a lot to go on it's hard to have in depth thoughts ha But from what little they've let out I'm quite excited for the journey we're going to embark on. We just need a start date for said journey. All we know is Jan but I need a hard date LOL

Expectations For S7. -I expect Chenford to get back to the softness above. It won't be easy but I expect we are headed back there. I think it's gonna be quite the journey to get us there. Both Tim and Lucy are going to need to grow before we do. They both still have shit to work out. Lucy with her career path and the rough time she had last year. It wasn't just Tim that crushed her. I mean it was a huge headliner but wasn't the ONLY one. Our girl has some communication problems and is like her soulmate in how she handles emotional distress. Expect that to be addressed on some level.

Tim obviously has a lot to make up for and he knows it. That is the first step. I expect we see Tim working constantly to improve himself as a person. To be worthy of Lucy again. He's not going to half ass his healing. He is going to be very Tim in how he goes after it. This is going to bleed into every part of his life. I expect to see that all over his character development in s7.

I also anticipate that we'll see an even stronger and more refined version of Chenford in Season 7, with their characters continuing to grow and evolve. Strong separately and even more so together. I cannot wait for the slow burn of their reconciliation. Going to make all the hurt worth it. It'll be Chenford 2.0 and we are all going to be grateful for that. While losing our minds together it's happening. I would rather have our ship and characters be real and develop. Better that than to be puddle deep like John/Bailey. I'll take the pain of growth over the stagnation of boredom. i.e. Bailian.

Predictions-Obviously I want to predict something like above. Them starting over. Kisses, hugs, and if we're lucky enough to get a repeat of 5x12 on screen. That one I'm straight just trying to manifest lol Possibly Celina catching them or almost doing so when they get back together at her place. These are more hopeful than actual predictions lmao But I mainly predict a deeper intimacy between them when they do reconcile. Stronger communication. It'll be beautiful. I also think we're about to see a side of Tim Bradford we haven't seen before. As we know Lucy brings out the best in this man. The absolute best. We're going to see that on full display.

I think he will continue therapy. I also think we’re going to see a very determined Tim driven in his quest to make amends to Lucy. Which will bring out that new side we haven't seen. It's one of the facets of s7 that has me most excited. And not just for the Chenford portion. (Which does make me giddy to no end) But for him as well. You follow me long enough you'll know I love Tim development. So this excites me so very much.

We watched Tim take strides in his mental health walk and as a person in s6 after 6x07. I expect we're going to see the fruit of that not just in his amends to Lucy. But professionally as well. Tim took quite the fall professionally after being bounced out of Metro. He has fences to mend to Grey, Lt. Pine, and those around him as well in patrol. I see him making those strides and then some.

I predict Lucy is going to finally going to get grounded professionally and personally. (She does have a new roommate. I can see development here too) Lucy got very lost in s6. I think s7 she will be righting her ship. Finding her purpose. My guess was T.O. for her with her dipping her toe with Celina in 6x08. She's so empathetic and willing to slow down and teach. I think that could be a good path for her. Whatever her trajectory is I think it's going to be be worked out in s7 for our girl. It's time for her to get some damn wins. I hope that answers your ask LOL Or maybe was too much? HA Either way I can't wait for s7. I need a promo and a premiere date. Seriously ABC, you're killing us.

[casteliacityramen]

Previous post (mini recap)

"Can we talk?"

"That depends if you'll yell at me and take off again."

"Depending on what you say, I just might."

[PART 1 OF 2]

"... Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how to, without... that... happening. It was sheer coincidence that led Ingram’s descendants to keep coming here. I didn't think you'd believe me," Ray responded telepathically.

"I still don't."

"I have nothing to gain by lying to you."

She hates that part of him, how he manages to sound so disingenuous while still telling the truth. There's always something underneath the surface, but he never goes there unless she pokes and prods. She could have ended that explanation right then and there, but she continues.

"But not telling me that the Dewott that I've seen every other night was a Matsumoto this entire time? Keeping that to yourself is okay?"

One of the many problems of an infinite lifespan means that there's no longer agency to anything. There's no immediate need to address any personal matters when they theoretically have all the time left in the world.

He figured that he could have talked to her further down the line, when they both settled down and processed all of their feelings... Or so he thought. 

Touchy subject or not, it was starting to sink in that he should've talked about this sooner. Granted, he never would have guessed that the circumstances would have led them to where they were now. Neither of them imagined that today would’ve gone like this.

"Of course not...

... But can you blame me when you reacted like you did?"

"Alright, asshole, I came to apologize but if you’re going to-"

"You scared me."

"Rio, when you were released, when you found me again, you sat on that seat and you said…”

“... Nothing.”

The two of them sit still, time grinding to a halt while Ray’s eyes roamed the space underneath his hands–as if the grain in the wooden countertop was magically providing him instructions on how to organize his words.

Gods, he wished.

"You were so quiet, it was unsettling. You’ve never been one to shy away from talking about how you feel, so I know that something went terribly wrong. A Matsumoto stopping by every now and then seemed so inconsequential at the time. But… the more I thought about telling you, the more I second guessed myself.

So I left it unspoken. I had a feeling you would be angry with me and I was right... But I never thought you'd be furious.

We carried on quietly for the past six months because I wanted you to take the first step. I figured that you’d be ready whenever you felt like you it, but I should have told you about this without having to make you dredge up the past by yourself."

I'm sorry."

"This is supposed to be my apology about yelling at you, you prick." Rio telepathically mutters, not expecting this level of genuine introspection from him. "How am I supposed to follow that?"

She watches as Ray visibly laughs off the tension in his shoulders. She lets out a short huff in response, turning back to the counter.

"I thought I was fine. I thought I was better than this–above it all. We went through something like this before, back when we first started. I thought we’d shrug it off like we did last time, but then I snapped like a toothpick today."

Ray watches as her face scrunches up in a cocktail of negative emotions. She seems like she's physically struggling to get anything out, which is an effort that didn't go unnoticed by Ray.

"I think running a ramen stand as a rockruff is exactly how I am now: absolutely useless. I'm not allowed to be useful. I'm not allowed to do my job as a Shepherd.

And that's a good thing, because now I can't stop thinking about all my mistakes--all the people I failed to protect. There's no use in a guardian angel that loses faith in herself."

She turns, facing the street, thankful that it was relatively empty at this time of hour.

“So... I sat here, on this very stool, watching every day as everybody moved on with their lives without a care in the world. Ordinary people who seem to be doing fine without me.” 

Rio shakes her head at the term "ordinary people,” laughing bitterly as she turns back around.

“I know I’m being stupid. A carefree life for everyone is what we work so hard for, yet I feel so… so pissed off at them for being none-the-wiser.

Imagine that: being mad that peace is the new ‘ordinary.’ Angry that these people don't know what it's like to live with the constant threat of death, even though none of them deserve it. It makes me feel like a shitty shepherd.

I thought it'd be easier if I slept through those moments, but every other time I fall asleep, I have a nightmare. When I try to think of anything else, all I can think about is how this all started. I thought about all the things we did to get to this point. I couldn't, and still can't, stop thinking about everything I did wrong back then and now.”

Ray heaves a heavy sigh, partly because he feels relieved that she's opening up to him, but another partly because he knows exactly what she's talking about.

“Yeah.”

She didn’t need him to say anything else. She knows that he knows. She'll tell him the full extent of what she went through and what she's going through, but that's for another day. That isn't the purpose of this specific conversation, after all.

She paws the empty glass around on the table sheepishly for a long moment. Finally, she gathers herself and turns to him.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” 

“I know.”

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

“You’ve been there for me. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

[Next]

[pygmi-cygni]

Lucky Number Seven (2)

goin' strong, y'all. woohoo.

cw: arguing, flashbacks, Angst

pt one here

He was fine. Somebody dragged him to a tent and gave him some water. You, however, were thrown into a room with a scowling officer who had some choice words.

Harassing a senior officer....stepping out of line...acting like a fucking child...your skin crawled with the urge to deck him too.

After your reaming was complete, you stomped back to the main area for a debrief.

And found this.

Rage burned your toes numb. You felt so overwhelmed with adrenaline, your physical body started to melt at the edges. If this was what exploding felt like, you were a supernova.

Poe's mouth was moving a mile a minute but you were having none of it. Famously verbose but equally as arrogant, Black Leader plowed through a hack-job retelling of your arrival. He wanted you gone within the day, he demanded, to the stoic chagrin of the answering Sergeant.

There were three other pilots in the tent, exchanging embarrassed glances. You'd felt shame, initially, before realizing what was happening.

"Sergeant, if I may," you seethed, cutting off another bout of complaints. Dameron's gaze lasered into your temple.

The flickering holograph raised his eyebrow.

"Whatever Dameron is upset about," your words sliced like blades through the smog, "is not in any way relevant to the current mission. We have a personal history and this issue does not extend beyond those limits. None of this impacts my work-"

"I don't know what this officer is referencing-" Dameron barged in, cutting off the snickering behind you.

"Enough."

Leia's face replaced the Sergeant's, looking steely-eyed and determined. The tent fell silent, everyone's faces drawn and hesitant. You swallowed down the tail end of your outburst, patting away the flames. Anger still smoldered, but you could keep it tucked away.

"I don't care how you feel, Poe," she said, with the sternness of a mother, "nor you, cadet," her gaze flickered to you. "I have assigned everyone in this program for a reason, and unless you are calling my judgement into question, I want to hear nothing about it."

Nobody dared speak. Nodding primly, she murmured a farewell and the tent was thrown into cavernous silence.

The tension was palpable. The sludgy ground had glued you in place, iron rods replacing your bones. Dameron burst out of the meeting as soon as it was adjourned, leaving you to fend off stares alone.

Personal history was a bit of a stretch, and perhaps conveyed a sultriness that was far from the truth. Tumultuous history might be a better term, one that conveyed the friction rife between you. It was a thorn you'd nursed for years, and one that never seemed to leave.

It never ceased to confuse your crew. Everybody liked Dameron. Truly, you saw the appeal - looks, charm, easy smile. And he was by definition, a good guy. But everybody had somebody to poke at, and for him it just happened to be you.

well, that wasn't the whole problem.

You tried to fade into the background of the gathering crowd. Any hopes of anonymity were shot dead in those few minutes online. The quizzical stares burned familiar scars in your back, until you collided with a bony face.

"Oh shi- you okay?" You righted Tonks, seconds from biting it. They chuckled, shoving you off.

"Yeah, yeah. What's up with Dameron? You guys seemed-"

Speak of the devil, he'd climbed atop a stack of crates, tablet and holopad in hand.

The debrief had begun.

The mission was 'simple:' have a few posing smugglers get a lay of the land whilst the home base soldiers mapped out the Imp hangar hidden a few clicks away. Once all the intel had been gathered, you'd reevaluate the plan and move in. No prisoners, no hostages.

Thirteen groups total (a number that made your stomach twist) and every group had a 'sister' group they were to be in contact with all the time.

"This is to ensure safety and support," Dameron explained, "no group gets left behind."

Ha fucking ha. You tried not to let your gaze burn his hair off.

Groups 1-4 were going to be the smugglers, a total of eleven people. 5-11 were tactical, and the last two were strictly intelligence and communication. You let out a sigh of relief when Tonks raised their hand for twelve. That was probably for the best.

Dameron's cold gaze flickered over you for a moment as he listed off your group - seven, how funny - and you were dismissed to brief with your groups.

Seven...tactical?

"Wait a minute, I'm intelligence division," you called out, "I'm not supposed to be tactically assigned-"

"Do you have your field training?" One of the superior offices looked you up and down.

"Yes, but-"

"Then you're qualified for tactical. Alright, quickly, let's get this done!"

Confused, you were swept into a tactical suit, headset, and gear pack and bunched with eight other people you'd never met in your life.

A harsh, muggy rain had begun to fall. Several tents were sinking into the mud and more than a few people were having difficulty digging their boots out of the slop. You held a booklet over your brow to stop any mudfall into your eyes.

"So," the head? Superior? Leader? of your group shouted over the din of thunder, "We're gonna chart the geography around the hangar, and then find the best entrances and exits. Once the undercover operatives we have get back, we'll send them off with a coupla you's to go and lay the explosives. Got it?"

A chorus of agreement, which you begrudgingly followed along with. Something distinctly sour was clouding the back of your mouth. One of your strengths was cartography and surveillance, but Dameron or whoever was running this shitshow had specifically pulled you out of the surveillance group and into...whatever this was.

Six hours until the first checkpoint. Teams 2 and 3 would be comming in with an update, and you needed to be at your post by then.

Perfect. Just enough time to beat Dameron's ass.

He was eating soup out of a tureen when you threw open the door to his tent. You didn't miss the tightening of his jaw when he turned to stare at you, eyebrow raised.

"Why the hell am I on tactical?" You hissed, ripping off your headset, "you know that I'm the best fucking spy on this crew, and I'm stuck on tactical?" The set made a satisfying thunk against the holoprojector as it toppled into the mud.

Poe leaned back, folding his arms. "Leia-"

"No. No, no, no, this was not Leia, this was you, Black Leader. You fucking put me there."

The muscles in his jaw were working overtime. Your steely gazes met in a clash rivaling Jedi battles. If he dares, I'll kill him. He'd better not even try.

"Well," he began slowly. "You can't deny the last time. How it...went."

He did.

The fucker.

"What?" You exploded, hauling him up by his collar, "What, what did I do? How did "the last one" go? Huh? Were you there? That one mission three fucking years ago that had a screwy plan and yeah, okay, something went wrong,and we lost some people, I'm sorry, but you weren't there, you don't get to tell me how it went!"

Your shouting had attracted a crowd outside. Poe winced when you pressed on his sore cheek, eyes aflame.

"Cadet," the word stung your heart, "why don't we continue this conversation later, okay? I've got a crew to run," he whispered, teeth glittering in the dingy light.

For the second time that day, you watched the retreating form of your Commander with a sense of defeat souring in your belly.

T-minus five hours.

That smell, what was it? Expensive, yes, but astringent. Burning roses, sickly sweet and singed with ash. It grew stronger every minute, as did the red glow under the door. Your hands were sticky with a thick crimson paste. Blood. It had been blood, which had been a body, who had been-

no. not them anymore. just sticky.

Hot. Your shirt was soaked to your skin with sweat. An orange light blinked on your radio. SOS. Help.

No response.

You watched the door shimmer and wriggle in the rising heat. Fire. And screaming. Who was screaming? Tell them to cut it out, it’s too l-

The shutter flicked, and you jolted awake. A deep, cavernous feeling of terror flitted through you so intensely your teeth rattled. Once the essence of paranoia faded, you huddled deeper in your jacket. It had been a while since your mind had slipped back into memory. You didn’t miss it.

The blinking holopad said three hours had passed. On autopilot, you packed your things, hands robotically cataloguing everything in its place. The safest thing to do right now was shut your brain off and let instinct do the talking. Wallowing would do no good in the field.

Your tent shuddered with the movement of somebody crossing the threshold. You were dimly aware of this but paid it no mind, focusing only on the rough fabric under your palms.

“Hey.”

Barbs littered your skin, raised and ready for battle. Steeling yourself, you turned to face him.

Poe, to his credit, stood a respectful distance away and met your gaze with patient neutrality. He took in your defensive scowl and the tension in your shoulders and held up a hand.

"I kinda screwed that up earlier," he said, with a strangely forced tone. "My apologies. I understand the last situation was complicated. But I can only access what's in the mission report, so-"

"So you just skipped the parts that didn't fit your narrative? Fuck off, I've got a crew to run." You shoved past him and rejoined your new squad. Poe yelled something after you, but you ignored it.

Thankfully the other members caught the drift, and you were on your way without a single glance back.

The moment your boots left the ring of lights surrounding the base, swampy smog enveloped you like a fist. It was hard to see in front of you, and you appreciated whose idea it was to clip fluorescent bulbs onto the back of your helmets.

In total there were eight of you, but the only names that stuck were the cartographer - Hana - and the weapons expert - Duke. There was a mute comms officer, which would have made for a great stand-up skit, but his searing gaze prompted no joking. You made your silent acknowledgements of each other and moved on.

As you hiked, a thrilling shiver ran down your back. It felt like a layer of bacta, soothing away the sore spots of your heart and returning a fire to your veins. Any distractions of the day melted away and left your mind startlingly clear. This was where you were supposed to be. You'd been folded for too long, crammed in the protective womb of drills and safety checks. You longed to stretch your fighting legs and run.

There was a reason you were the best on the team. Nothing Dameron said could change that.

The dark undergrowth of the swampy jungle slowly calibrated to your eyes. Snapping twigs sounded like gunshots and your hair prickled with caution. A certain air of insignificance swept over the group as you waded through marshes deep enough to swallow you whole. You kept that feeling close to your chest. Best to be aware of your weakness than to let it blind you. A common mistake, assuming you were the top of the food chain.

Though you’d never stepped foot on the planet before, the terrain seemed almost familiar. Nal Hutta’s geography wasn’t complicated. Hilly but nothing unclimbable, and the same marshy consistency across the surface. It was easy to get lost with nothing memorable to mark.

Hana quietly recited the map as you went, annotating any notable regions. It was a quick journey, relatively speaking, and you soon found the cleared-out trench designated for the first stop. As instructed, a few soldiers dug up the cargo hidden in the brush. The canvas bags contained kilos of explosives, which Duke took gingerly from their hiding place.

A shiver ran through you at the sight.

Fire, hot and stinging. Red cloth burning, the smell of roses-

You blinked rapidly and took a swig of water. Not now.

The comms officer spoke quickly and quietly into the accompanying receiver, jotting down whatever Poe was communicating on the other line. You felt strangely affronted, irritated that you couldn’t listen in. It was a strange sense of paranoia that made your throat close up. You forced yourself to step away, peering into the shady woods.

A cough behind you grabbed your attention. The comms officer looked up, receiver in his hand. It took you a moment to realize he was handing it to you. Dread settling, you took the device and held it to your ear.

“Yes?”

“New plan,” came Poe’s voice from the other end. He sounded strained, and you realized the change wasn’t going to be good. “I need you to go in.”

“What?”

A crackly sigh. “I need you to go in and get the access key by yourself. The security is tighter than we expected and a crew this size will be suspicious. You’re….the one with enough experience.” A resigned edge laced his tone. This wasn’t an easy admission.

You’d be glib at the compliment, but in truth the idea filled you with terror.

You hadn’t done it since. This was the first time you’d gone alone, and the thought of last time made you nauseous.

“Still with me?”

“Yes,” you said hoarsely, clearing the tension from your throat. “Yes, yeah, I’m…I’m here. That’s fine, but…”

“But?”

“Nothing. I’ll proceed.” You wanted to cry.

“Copy. And, cadet?”

You wiped your eyes, hiding from the rest of the group. “Mhm?”

“We’ll be in your ear the whole time.”

Your fist clenched around the comm long after he disconnected, knuckles paling.

Burning roses, singed cloth, screaming-

auck I hate the exposition chapters.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love 

@unear7hly @chaithetics @thecraziestcrayon @lilacspider @whisperofthewild

[trashrattt]

I totally think Code lyoko should have it's talked about reboot, mostly because

- when it came to Carthage, the most canon explanation from Franz himself, the explanation only lasts about 1 minute and 25 seconds, and nothing else comes of it

Sure, we knew why Xana was created, but like, Franz never really said Xana stopped it as it was his main intended purpose, why Xana was made to begin with, so like, that's a real issue in canon consitering Franz wanted to stop the project but never got to consitering Xana gained autonomy and all

And like, Carthage was kind of hinted at to be a bad thing too, you'd think that could be a real issue in universe

- spent 3 whole seasons building on this one character only not to do much with it at all and give him a really bad rep in universe afterwards

Okay, you know me, I like William an abnormal amount, but with all things considered, he wasn't a character to begin with, neither was a plot device imo

Yeah, he absolutely has no personality, argue with the wall if you need to

So like, yeah, he got posessed, but then what? Sure he was used to try to throw Aelita into the Digital sea, but like, tarantulas could do the same thing with those long ass arms, they could just use them as bats

And you've literally seen megatanks push her closer to the digital sea when she used a energy field as a sheild of sorts, so really, what was the point of him to begin with of other monsters could do the same thing no problem

And after a whole season of dawdling around, the writers rushed the whole "set him free" arc after ignoring it for basically the whole season, like there wasn't any episodes besides cold sweat where the characters actively try to break him free, you'd think there would be a little more give from the characters considering how #depressed Yumi was

(and yes, I know the show says, "I made ___ program" but let us see the FAILURE!!!!)

Even then, when he came back, the characters all decide "fuck this, you ain't shit to me" and dropkick him back to his life without any support, like dude lost months of his life without something he either remembers or blanked out on

- character writing in season four

Okay, this isn't really a reason why, it's more of saying "Why did you make your characters worse, we deserve better"

Because Odd in season four just became an absolutely terrible person, man

Constantly throwing his freinds under the bus just for some scheme he pulled or literally abusing the fact that he knows about Lyoko as a point to say to the others "This is why we're friends!!!1!@1!!" Even though at this point their friendship is downright terrible, like to the point where they just want to get Lyoko dealed with so they can fall apart like a poorly put together cup with scotch taped all over it

Imo nobody seemed to like each other as opposed to season 1 and 2 where they talked casually, like they had an actual friendship going on, not like "so, what's new on Lyoko, I want this shit dealt with today..." they were actual friends who did stuff together and had fun, I miss that :<

Anyways that was a more personal take, but season 4 just leaves a bad taste in my mouth with that rushed ending of theirs

Uhm oops, this was a long rant of what I dislike about the show, I was supposed to make this post simply to tell you guys what I'd propose for a continuation

Here's what I'd do:

Consitering Carthage was an abandoned idea from the depths of season 2, we build on that again

I'm imagining a non-terribly written Evo mixed with the chronicles, like bitch I actually love the idea of Ulrichs dad being tied in with Carthage simply because like, it would make so much sense (absolutely don't pull a chronicles though making EVREYONES mothers under the sun being tied in, that was stupid)

I'm also thinking, the antagonist we have is still a program, but it isn't Xana like in main series

Sure, they're simular, but it's a remnant from Carthage that has the same ideas as Xana, but worse (this is all first draft, but that's like the main idea that could work)

Also, give Will and actual personality this time, not just this "I'm soooooo sad" attitude that any traumatized character has, he has the potential to be COMPLEX!!!!

Kids cartoons nowadays are getting complex so don't say "Oh no they can't, it's a kids cartoon"

Anyways I'm hoping they build off of Carthage because that would be a PERFECT continuation aauaghh

Enjoy (?) My unexpected rant, idk

[snzunii]

goodnight n go ( ran h. ) — part two.

it's really bad that you get along so well.

tags. romance, angst, betrayal, hurt/comfort, established relationship, explicit sexual content, bonten!ran, detective!reader, canon-typical violence, crimes and criminals, drugs, smoking, drinking, illegal activities, EIGHTEEN PLUS ONLY.

“Baby. Wake up.” you stirred in your sleep, trying to pull the blanket over your head just so you couldn't hear your boyfriend, whispering in your ear to get the fuck up. “YN.”

“Leave me alone, Ran.” you mumbled, getting anything that you could reach just to cover your face but he’s one step ahead of you, there's nothing left for you to cover your head with. “Fuck.”

You heard him laugh, you felt the bed sink as he sat beside you. “Breakfast’s ready. Come on.”

But you didn't want to stand up. You just want to stay in bed and rot with him. Is that so bad? You haven't had the chance to see and be with each other this long, is it so bad to have one day for the two of you? 

It isn't, right?

“Can we just stay in? We don't have to go to work today, right?”

You weren't that serious—okay, maybe you are. But you didn't think that Ran would lay down beside you and go along with what shenanigans you wanted to do today, “Okay.”

“What, okay?”

“Let’s stay in today.” 

“Really? Aren't you like, needed for work because, I don't know, your boss is a pain in the ass?” you asked him with a wide smile, you looked at him and you saw his pretty eyes looking at you—you suddenly felt conscious, you just woke up, you haven't even brushed your teeth yet.

But he’s still looking at you like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“Yeah. But that’s a problem for tomorrow.” he smirked, leaning in to kiss you but you pulled away and that made him frown, “What?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, “Bad breath.” you said with a muffled voice.

“The fuck I care, kiss me.” he says and pulls your hand away, you giggled and let him press his lips gently into yours—he bites your lip, and you close your eyes, draping your arm over his neck, pulling him close to you.

You both pulled away, gasping for air. “Yeah, you should brush your teeth.”

“Ran!”

“Kidding.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he just laughed at you, “You’re such a brat.”

“But you love me.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Hmm. You’re going to sleep again?” you feel his arm slipping under your head, making it your pillow, “Don't you wanna eat first?”

“Too sleepy.” you murmured, “Wake me up in five minutes, ‘kay?”

You didn't hear him answer but  it’s not long until you hear him say your name again.

“YN.”

You open your eyes, and there you are in front of him—with a gun in his hand. How the fuck did you get here?

“Ran.”

Ran held your wrist, pulling you away from the watching eyes. He knows they're not going to do anything—and they know that Ran’s not going to let you go that easily.

Even though you’re his girlfriend, Ran is in too deep in this shit—yeah, they think he’s stupid for having a detective girlfriend—but they know he wouldn't turn that easily, maybe.

You compromised their location, you found them. You could’ve called for back up the moment you saw the guy that you arrested back then, but all that you were thinking of was Ran. You could just easily point your gun to any of them but you didn't do any of that.

They know you wouldn't do that to Ran. They don't know you that much, but the look in your eyes was enough for them to know that you wouldn't just give him up—even if it’s the right thing to do.

You didn't pull away or protest—you didn't push him away, there were no arguments as he pulled you into the other room, with no other people, just the two of you. “YN—”

Instead of you speaking, your palms met his face over and over. “Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you—”

“Stop.” he says, holding both your wrists. “Stop, YN.”

“Why the fuck would you do this to me? How could you?” your voice was small and shaky, your tears falling continuously, “Why the fuck would you keep something like this from me? You know how hard I worked, you know all of it, then you…?”

You look at him, and you see that he’s Ran… but he’s different. He’s like a stranger, a stranger with a familiar face. A stranger that you touch, you hold, you confide in—that you know—a stranger you love.

Ran couldn't find the words that he wanted to say. He hid this from you because he was selfish—he wanted to keep you, he wanted to be close to you.

If he could live this double life forever just to keep you, then he probably would. 

He was different when he was with you, but that doesn't change the fact that he’s a horrible person who’s done a lot of horrible things, right? That’s how you see him now. “I wanted to protect you—”

“Protect me?” you laughed bitterly, “You really think that you keeping all of this from is protecting me? No, you're lying to me! Deceiving me, you were there every night! Listening to me struggle and you’re one of them?! Why, Ran? Why—”

“Because!” he slammed his hand on the table, “Because I fucking love you! I know it’s bullshit, I’m a fucking horrible person! How the fuck am I capable of love? But I do! I do love you and it’s so frustrating hiding all of this from you!”

You ignored what he said. Because if you did choose to acknowledge all that, you would’ve easily run into his arms—turn your back on your morals and just go with him wherever.

You’re too stupid and heartbroken to think straight that all you wanted to do was to touch him. You wanted him to hold you in his arms and tell you all the things he’s said before, that he’s there… that you’ve got nothing to worry about as long as you’re with him.

You can feel your chest closing in on you, it’s like you’re being suffocated to death that you needed to get out. “I need to leave.”

“You can't do that.” he said, holding your wrist when you were about to walk out the door. You tried to swat his hand away but he kept his hold on you, well, you really can't leave this place—it’s not that easy.

And maybe, he was afraid that if he let you leave—if he let you walk out that door, you’d be gone forever. 

From him… from his life. 

“Let me go!” you yelled, trying to wriggle out of his touch, but he pulled you into the couch, “The fuck—”

“I can't let you do that!” he shouted back, “Do you think you could just walk out of here? Do you think they wouldn't fucking kill you the moment you step out of this building?”

“Okay.” you said quietly, almost a whisper but enough for him to hear you, “Can you just please… let go of my hand.”

Ran sat in front of you, on his knees. “YN. Listen to me.”

“What?” your voice cracks, your tears still falling at the side of your eyes, you try to look at him, but every time you do, you feel like sobbing—so you look away. 

“I love you.” he whispered, “I love you.” 

That was all he could say because that is the truth. The only thing in his life that he didn't lie about to you.

You finally look at him, he smiles at you like he didn't do anything wrong—like with just one smile from him, everything will be okay.

And it’s not. Nothing’s ever going to make this okay.

“I love you, YN.” he cups your cheek and you don't pull away, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. His touch was familiar, it was comforting—just how it was before. “Please, don't leave. Just stay, hm? Stay.”

You have never seen him so… desperate, that he might just die if you didn't give in. But he had to try, if losing his dignity was the only way for you to stay then he would.

But it was a big thing. It’s a big selfish thing to overlook all the things that he had done, and you don't know if you could live with yourself with all of this.

But, it’s Ran. How could you do this to him? How could you leave him?

It’s Ran, for fuck’s sake. It’s Ran, you love him. You’d do everything for him. You’d jump off a cliff for him. 

It’s him, you were going to build a family with him. He was there for you, the only one there when you were basically empty. When you had nothing, he was the only one there. So… how?

How could you even think about this?

It’s Ran. 

There’s no question about that. 

Fuck, YN. Think.

Think.

“YN—” you cut him off by pressing your lips into him, you drape your arm over his neck to pull him close. 

You tug on his tie and deepens the kiss because fuck it. You both pull away to breathe, he presses his forehead against yours, you close your eyes and just try to feel him.

Just try to forget all the things that were happening. 

His lips find yours again, but this time he was kissing you so hungrily, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip as if he was craving you for a very long time, your fingers unbuttoning his suit—you feel the cushion on your back as he towers over you.

His kisses travel down your neck, his hands unbuttoning—no, more like ripping your blouse, favorite blouse, open and pulling your pants down—ridding you of your clothes, you bite back a moan when his hands squeeze the swell of your clothed tits. 

“Let me hear you.” he groaned, you can feel the vibrations on your skin, it’s as if you feel the nerve impulses all throughout your body. “Fuck, please.”

“Please, baby.” here you are legs sprawled open, under him but he’s the one pleading you, was he always this desperate for you?

His hands sets your panties aside, his fingers finding your swollen clit, drawing circles, trying to get just one fucking noise from you.

Finally, you gasp, your fingers gripping his hair as he pushes his fingers in and out of your cunt. Fuck, yes he was always this desperate.

Always so desperate to make you moan his name, always desperate to see your finger-fucked out face—he’s the only one who could make you like this, what makes you think that he would ever let go of you?

Why would he ever let go of you when you're so beautiful and helpless under him? Getting fucked ruthlessly, your legs hanging on his shoulder as he pump his cock in and out of your pussy?

“R-Ran, fuck! Please, slow down—ah!”  you were a fucking mess, sobbing—mumbling all the right words that should come out of your mouth when he’s hitting all the right, sensitive spot inside you. 

But it seems so hard to hear all your pleas when his hips slams into you like this, both your skin slapping, your wet pussy squelching when his dick slams inside you—it was too good, too good for him to stop, too fucking good to listen to you plead him to slow down, not when he can feel your cunt sucking him in.

You weren't sure anymore where you are, all you could see was your boyfriend’s face, fucking the life out of you.

Every grunt he was making passes through your ears and travels throughout your body. It was too much, you were exhausted—too exhausted to be in the right mind. Too tired to think if this is even right, if you should be even getting fucked right now.

You were already mumbling incoherent words when he switch your positions out, you were all on fours holding on the cushion while he fucks you raw from the back, he leans forward, squeezes your tits and pushes you against his chest.

“...too much, baby, slow down.” you whimpered, if only you could see the look on his face, “Ran, baby, please.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” he grunts, his voice hoarse—his breath was warm against your skin, “You're not going to leave, are you? ‘S too good, right?”

“‘m not, baby.” you gasp, your stomach churning as you feel his thrusts slow down, so agonizingly slow that you feel like he’s fucking with you, “‘m not going to leave. I love you.”

“Fuck!” he slammed his cock deeper, holding both your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, “Fuck, fuck—say that again. Say you fucking love me.”

“I love you,” you breathlessly say, “I fucking love you.”

…

You were just there sitting in silence—you, only wearing his coat, hands intertwined as you lean your head on his shoulder.

No one was speaking, you were bathing in the solace of just being there—together. It’s as if nothing happened, it’s as if you’re not going to make a big decision that’s going to affect your lives together.

Ran was the first one to speak, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” you answer mindlessly.

“You said,” he paused, “You’re not going to leave, did you mean it?”

You don't answer him because you don't know. You have no idea if you mean it or not, all you know is you just wanted to stay here for a moment and not think about anything.

He squeezes your hand, his thumb caressing your skin, he holds on to you tight as if he’s going to lose you and holding on to you was the only way for you not to slip away. 

“He’s my brother. The one with the long hair, similar color to mine.”

“I figured.” you whispered, “He looks a lot like you.”

“Yeah?” you hummed. “I guess.”

“Are we going to stay here forever?” you asked, “I’m hungry. I was going to cook dinner but…”

“You, cooking?” you heard him chuckle, “You sure about that?”

You immediately looked at him with a glare, “Excuse me?”

Your gaze softened when you saw that annoying smile on his face, just like that, it’s like everything was normal. It’s like you were on the bubble again, just the two of you—him teasing you, you being a brat but succumbs to him, and smiles back at him anyway.

But then you remember all the things that he lied about, all the things that you found out and all the things that you are about to find out. 

“I love you.” he says. “I love you so much that I don't know what I’m going to do if I lose you… am I? Losing you?”

“I don't know,” your voice was small, almost silent just like the room that surrounds you, “Would you let me go? Would you let yourself lose me?”

The silence settled once again. He looks into your eyes, and if you looked closely you could almost see the vulnerability inside. 

He’s Ran Haitani, he’s feared by some people. Even you figured that out. But when it comes to you, he’s not afraid to look stupid—he’s not afraid to beg you not to leave him.

You leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you felt the ache in your chest. If it’s only that simple, if only you could say yes that easily.

You took a shaky breath as you felt your tears once again, “How do we do this, Ran? How do I love you like this?”

Ran doesn't know either. How could you love him when he’s this? But he’s too selfish to let you go, he’s too caught up in this mess that he holds on to you because you’re the only thing in his life that makes sense.

“Do you want to leave?”

“Leave?”

“We’ll leave. We’ll run away, me and you.” 

Hearing him say those words just added to the pain you were feeling. He’s ready to risk it all for you. But this is wrong. “Why are you making it so hard for me to love you?” 

Leaving isn't the solution, because one way or another, they're going to find you and that would probably end with the two of you dying. But if that’s what it takes to keep you, then he would gladly leave.

You can see the pain in his eyes, in those eyes that hold so much adoration for you. He pulls you in, your head leaning on his chest. You close your eyes as you listen to his heart beat, it was once again comforting, but it shouldn't be. It shouldn't.

 “Then just let me love you enough for the both of us, hm?”

[a1ecmcdowell]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤTHREE !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART TWO. half - past five !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMINORS DNI!! includes, fictional locations. fictional bandmates. weed mentions ( brief ). semi-public fingering. finger sucking. praise if u squint & minor degradation if u don't. jensen is wearing rings (that's it that's the whole warning and it's necessary). reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 3.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. me calling it a slowburn vs them getting raunchy in chap 3 i am A LIARRRR. I STILL SAY IT'S A SLOWBURN ... IT'S NOT ALL SUNSHINE N RAINBOWS ... also what did i say huh. parts wld get longer! almost double last one! i got carried away aftercare!jensen is jus really sexy ok leave me alone.

mirrored glass shakes against the dance studio’s walls, making your reflection warble along with it. one of the mirrors is significantly looser where it’s pressed to the wall, and you just wait for it to fall, because it wants to, doesn’t it? why doesn’t it just give in? 

there’s some pent up frustration in you. clearly. the person —  well, the main one contributing to the literal and metaphorical walls in your life starting to crumble — responsible is just thirty or so steps away. and, of course you’d know that exactly, wouldn’t you? 

you’ve been pacing since you showed up. first outside of the building, when you saw the sunset blvd sign hung up and alight in one of the dingy windows of the venue. it was like a physical sign, really, that jensen was there to stay. much to your chagrin. 

even the instructor at the studio, lindsey, had something to say about your fidgeting. you’d gotten out of class early that day, and what better way to relieve your stress than to go over routines you knew in your sleep? 

except you couldn’t. at least one step in every song you tried to practice, you stumbled on, and with each song you tried again and again, you messed up more, like giving the thought of your failures any attention was exactly what they wanted to burrow in your bones. 

that’s when lindsey, who’d been cleaning off the mirrors in preparation for her upcoming class, said something. “laurel hit you with a hard routine?” 

“no,” you snap without meaning to, guilt washing itself over you the moment the words leave your mouth. she was innocent in your little problems. “just— thinking too much.” 

“i’d argue that the point of dancing is to stop you from thinking.” 

and she was so right that you could have cried. it was infuriating, knowing your problems and what was causing them, and being completely incapable of doing something to stop them. 

you didn’t answer her; nothing productive would come from this conversation when you were too in your head to see outside of your thick skull. instead, you snatched up your phone and clicked play on the sleeping beauty track you’d been working on. 

“why are the mirrors so loose?” lindsey asked, then, incredulity laced in her words, and that was what started your pacing. 

you’d take fifteen of the thirty seven steps from the inside of destiny dance to sunset blvd, and turn back. rinse, repeat. sometimes more than fifteen. most times less. it was so stupid, wanting to pick this fight, knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere. 

but you were at your wit’s end. and maybe, just maybe, you’d started to miss those piercing green eyes that watched you from outside of the venue next door while you practiced. 

masochism is a hell of a thing. 

you don’t even know what caused the breaking point to hit you, but it did, probably an hour into your relentless back and forth with yourself. and suddenly, you were pushing open the glass doors to sunset blvd.

for once, it’s dead silent. but you know that they’re all here, all four members of whatever-the-hell band, whatever-the-hell their names were. the parking lot had four cars in it.

it’s easier like this — empty stage, empty seats — to stomp your aggravated little ass up to the side of the stage. there’s a couple of steep steps leading up to the stage, and your steps echo on the hollow wood of each. 

your hand closes around the tall, dusty curtain leading backstage, when someone else shoves it back fiercely with all of the confidence of someone who thinks they’re alone. 

you jump, but the person screams. a high, piercing scream that echoes around the ( admittedly pretty good ) acoustics of the room.

it’s a guy — lanky and tall with long hair to his shoulders. he holds a hand over his chest, knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping onto the ripped band t-shirt he wears. metallica. at least you’d heard of that one. 

“jesus christ,” he wheezes out, and you can’t help the way your eyes drop to the blunt in his fingers at his side. surely smoking weed wasn’t good for him. 

you keep that to yourself, though. you did just scare the life out of him, after all. “where is everyone?” 

he blinks a couple of times, and you visibly watch his eyes focus on your face. recognition flares in his deep brown eyes. “our local little dancer, here to grace us again.” 

you roll your eyes. “i have a name—” 

“yeah, yeah, but you never asked for mine, so i’m sure as shit not asking for yours.” he raises the blunt to his parted lips, sucking in a deep inhale. he says, around the exhale of smoke he releases, “reggie, by the way.” 

oh. this was reggie. the little pissant that tried to blow your eardrums when you first showed up here. last time you saw him, you didn’t pay much attention to him. 

you still weren’t going to, unfortunately for him and the way his mouth opens to keep talking to you. 

“guess we’re even.”

reggie grimaces and at least has the decency to look apologetic. you take a step forward to pull the curtain back again and step backstage when he speaks again.

“noa’s in the ladies room. steven’s in the men’s, with—” 

jensen. god, what the hell was wrong with you? there was no reason for your heart to stutter at the sheer thought of him. 

this was your problem, after all — the one buried beneath the ones that you tried to claim as your problems instead: you wanted to see him. he hadn’t been outside consistently, not even when you were leaving. there were a couple of days in that week where you didn’t see him, only knew he was there at all by the number of cars in the back parking lot. 

you say a quick thank you before you finally do step underneath the lifted edge of the heavy curtain, a puff of dust clouding in your lungs the moment you let go of it. 

you break into a ticklish cough as it coats your tongue and the inside of your mouth, too focused on trying to catch your breath again to pay attention to where you’re walking. 

“what, you take a hit of reggie’s blunt but not mine?” he says, his voice still as deep as you remember, smile just as chastising. “didn’t know you were into scrawny guys. never stood a chance, did i?” 

then, and only then, do you manage to shoot a glare up at him. and of course, jensen is smirking, dimples embedded in his cheeks, eyes practically glimmering with the taunt. 

no— they were really glimmering. the green was so much more pronounced today, with the whites of his eyes stained pink. oh, hell. 

“it’s dust.” 

jensen whistles lowly under his breath, leaning back in a mock gesture of surrender, before he settles back fully on his feet. “yyyeeah, reggie’s shit is shit.” 

“no—” your face flushes, both with a twinge of embarrassment and irritation. “i mean, it’s literally— like, it’s literally dust. this place is covered in dust.” 

jensen laughs, loudly and heartily, and it makes your toes curl in your pointe shoes. you really were a wreck; reduced to rubble by this man whose sole purpose, it seemed, was to get on your last nerves.

“s’what happens in abandoned places, princess,” he says slowly and drawn out, like he was talking to a toddler. you bristle at it, nose twitching, and that only makes him laugh a bit harder. “oh, come on. thought we were friends now.” 

your mouth closes, then opens, and closes all over again. friends. you certainly weren’t aware of when that happened, especially since— 

“you haven’t been outside in three days.” god, could your voice sound any smaller? your face flames with embarrassment, not having wanted that to be the thing you say to him in response, but what could you do now? 

jensen’s smile softens. softens! as if you could feel any less mortified. “my pretty princess is missing me, is she?” 

“oh, go to—” 

“hell?” he finishes, eyebrows shooting up as the word leaves his mouth. “only if you come on down with me.” 

you can’t even bristle again before he’s crowding your space. one step forward from him, and two steps back from you. it’s not a very wide hallway, though, and before you knew it, you were trapped.

trapped in the cage of his strong arms, back to the brick wall. this close, you can see the swirls of ink adorning his skin, black wisps of fire and symbols that you don’t know. his hands come up to properly cage you in; palms flat on the wall by your head. 

“you want to, don’t you?” he murmurs, his gaze dropped to your lips. everywhere his eyes land, your skin burns. he’s fire, and you’re ice, and you’re completely molten, melted at his feet. “c’mon, princess,” he says just as softly, “tell me what you want.” 

the words to leave are right there on your tongue. they’re right there, heavy and palpable, and yet they don’t leave the confines of your closed lips. 

jensen’s smile widens, becoming more devilish than sweet. his breath reeks of alcohol and weed this close, but there’s the faintest underlining of mint. your senses are turned up too high to handle this properly — and he can tell. “oh, i see,” his voice is so deep and rough that it makes your skin tremble, “my pretty girl wants me to show her, does she?” 

no, you try to say, but it’s stuck just like the rest of your protests, right there behind your teeth. if only you had the strength to lift your arms and tug your jaw open, to force the words out, because suddenly your head is nodding. 

“good girl,” he says, and one of his hands slips from the wall to your chin, index and thumb holding it between his fingers as he tilts it up to meet your eyes. “but i’m sure you’re used to hearing that, aren’t you?” 

his voice is soft and rough at once, like he’s sharing painful secrets right in her ear. his tone, though, is full of a venom that you don’t want to think about. shame is already so thick on your skin that it feels like paint; the last thing you want is to let his chastising words get to you just as much as your desire for him. 

“pretty,” jensen continues as his hand slips lower, running over the thin fabric of your leotard. it’s innocent at first, the backs of his fingers running down your shoulder. still, it lights you up as if he’d just kissed you. “good. innocent.” 

his hand slips further down, his ring-adorned knuckles tracing over your breasts. they peak beneath that little brush of a touch, nipples aching against the skin-tight of the leotard. 

“i was sure that even good girls get tired of being good,” he mumbles, his face inching closer to yours, nose to nose. “but then i met you, and you just can’t help it, can you? that incessant need to be good?”

jensen’s head drops into the crook of your neck, his facial hair on your sensitive skin making your breath hitch. his laugh is breathless in your ear, against your shoulder, as he presses his lips on the space above your collarbone. 

and his hand keeps moving. it outlines a straight line down the center of your breasts, down your sternum, and stops just below your navel. 

“or maybe…” he trails off, his other hand dropping from the wall and grasping at your skirt, tugging it up in one quick movement. it draws a shuddering gasp from your parted, dry lips, another thing that makes him chuckle. “maybe you do it because you like it. is that it, princess?” 

you can’t even bring yourself to answer him. your skin feels hot and alive, like electricity dances through your veins. livewires sparking beneath the surface of your skin. 

your hands, though, reach for the leather flaps of the jacket on his shoulders. you need something to touch to keep you from slipping too far into the abyss of this. 

his fingertips brush across the thin strap of fabric covering your throbbing, sensitive pussy, the heat in your lower stomach burning and crackling and tight. you can feel the edges of his fingertips grazing the edge of the inseam of the leotard. “yeah, i thought that was it,” he rasps, another of those breathless laughs pressing into your collarbone, “of course the good girl likes to be told she’s a good girl.” 

one of his hands still holds the edge of your skirt up, and the other sweeps the thin fabric away, letting cool air dance across your exposed, slick cunt. 

your mouth finally finds the words it wants to say, and they stumble out in a quick succession, an unintelligible sentence. “jensen— there… people—” 

“reg is off his ass,” he mutters, his mouth still grazing and nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbone, “steven’s in the fuckin’ bathroom doin’ lines still, and noa’s probably in the bathroom doin’ him.” 

his eyes flick up to meet yours, the green now just a thin ring around the deep intensity of his pupils. “no people around, pretty princess,” he assures, his lips curling into that teasing smile of his — though now, it’s much softer. 

you barely get a chance to acknowledge any of his words before his calloused thumb slips between the slick folds of your pussy. you stutter out a gasp as the electricity of his touch travels your lower stomach and up, up, up, sending your heartrate fluttering quicker.

jensen massages the sensitive, swollen nub of your clit, his eyes locked onto yours, gauging your reaction to his painstakingly slow circles. his teeth hold his bottom lip captive between them. somehow, his eyes look even more blown now that your gazes are locked. 

you try, you do, and it’s an honorable effort, to keep any sound from slipping out of your lips in response to the tantalizing grazes of his hand between your legs. but a muffled whimper starts low in your throat and shudders out, and it’s enough to encourage him to keep going. 

“little louder, baby, i can’t hear you,” he whispers with his nose pressed against yours. he uncurls his fingers, letting you feel every brush of his fingertips as they drag across the expanse of your spread pussy. “i know it feels good, baby, can feel how fucking wet you are.” 

it’s cruel, the way he can touch you like this and say such things about it, while you’re completely spread out for him and at his mercy. “fuck you,” you seethe through your teeth, though it holds none of the malice you wish it did — instead coming out like a whimpering whine. 

“uh uh, not yet,” he laughs breathlessly across your face, and his long middle finger stops at the dip of your entrance, traces the wetness dripping from it, smears it further up your spread pussy. “you’re not ready for that yet, pretty girl. and i wanna make you feel good. don’t you want it to feel good? when you do get to have me?” 

he talks to you like you’re something innocent, something he’s more than happy to break and ruin. chastising and seductive all in the same breath. jensen doesn’t even give you the time to answer before he pushes that same finger inside of you. 

he’s wearing a ring. you didn’t even see the ring when you were talking to him — admittedly, you were only looking at his swollen lips, darkened eyes, sweaty hair hanging just below his ears. but you felt it now; his already thick finger stretches you out, and the ring adds to it the moment he’s deep enough inside of you. 

it’s a shockwave of pleasure all at once. you don’t even try to stifle the moan this time, your head falling forward to knock against his. “there she is,” he praises, his voice much deeper and raspier than it was moments before. “i knew you had it in you.” 

that’s when he starts to move. it’s still only that one finger pushed to the hilt of his hand inside of you, but the ring scrapes the edges of your walls with every thrust he pushes it into you. the pace is slow, deep, like he was making love to you with nothing but his hand. 

of course he wasn’t, though. jensen didn’t seem like the type to make love, and the point is proven when his fingers curl, and stars erupt in your vision. 

“god,” you choke on the word, gasping and panting on his face, your breaths mingling with how close you are. 

jensen grins. he’s always fucking grinning, like he knows exactly the effect he has on the people he touches. “mmm, close, but not my name.” 

“go — to hell.” 

he pumps his finger in and out of your soaked pussy, so hard that the sound of each wet movement punctuates each moan you loosen. “told you already,” he grunts, pulling his ringed finger out of you just enough to where you can only feel the tip of it teasing your stretched entrance. “not without you.” 

there’s never any warning with him, never any indication of what he’s going to do before he’s already knuckles deep into it. and he adds a second finger, another ring adorning it, and pumps the both of his fingers deep into your pussy. 

it’s too much all at once. the feeling of his fingers curling inside of you like quotation marks to each of his thrusts, the fact that there were three people scattered around the rest of the small building, potentially seconds from walking out into the hall and seeing the debauchery he was inflicting on you— 

you hook your leg up and curl it around his waist, giving him a better angle to keep fingerfucking you, and for you to be able to take him deeper, harder, faster—

the invitation isn’t lost on jensen, either. the hand that’d been holding your skirt up releases it and hooks under your thigh to keep it held there. “look at you,” he grunts between his clenched teeth, “bein’ so fucking good for me.” 

your throat feels raw from the effort of trying to keep your voice down, trying to keep every single noise clamped behind the barriers of your tight lips. and it’s too much. and you can’t even really think straight, not with the cool metal rings so tantalizing on your inner walls, with his thick fingers so deep you can feel the tips teasing your cervix. 

your lips part on a shuddering moan, finally uncaging the desperate, guttural sounds that’d been building since he started to touch you. the tightness in your lower stomach coils, tighter and tighter; a snake capturing its prey, a girl clenching tightly around the fingers that thrust into her. 

for once, jensen is dead silent, and you really wish he’d talk, even if it was just to continue teasing you, because all you can hear in this hallway is the gushing sound of his fingers in you and your crescendoing moans, and—

your head falls back against the brick wall behind it, the thud hardly registering in your mind as your leg tightens around his waist, as his fingers keep up there relentless pace, as you pulse around his knuckles and against his palm in tune to your heartbeat.

it’s overwhelming, how fast you fall apart right there in his hands. “fuck— jensen—” your body goes still and taut for a second before it goes completely boneless, your face burying in the smoky smelling leather of his jacket. even as your pussy throbs around him, even as you’re still so sensitive that your body is practically trembling, he doesn’t relent. 

not for another ten or so seconds. and you do count, because it starts to feel like a punishment instead of for pleasure, even as you grind your hips down to take him deeper. 

his fingers slip out of you, wet and glistening with your juices. his eyes are somehow more glazed than they were, still rimmed red and glimmery. “open up, princess,” he rasps, the smile on his face more lazy than the smirk he wore earlier. 

who are you to deny him anything right now? you barely know your name, your legs numb, your heart racing from the comedown. 

“good girl,” he praises lowly once your lips pop open again. jensen pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, pushing down on your tongue to push your mouth open wider. 

tasting yourself around the salty smoke flavor of his fingers is almost enough to make your legs buckle. his eyes watch you intently, glancing between your eyes and your mouth. 

and maybe you are sick of being good. maybe he was right all along, with every word you deemed chastising and prodding. it only takes a blink for you to close your lips around his fingers and swirl your tongue around them in your mouth, around the rings. 

“goddamn,” he chuckles, breathless and exhaling. “maybe you are more fun than you let on.” 

you didn’t know, then, that this was the worst possible thing either of you could do. because now, you knew he’d let you in when you came around, and now he knew how easy you were to break.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck, @casatoan, @mo0nwalker, @manicjk, @stereotypicalbarbie, @inpraise0fbacchus, @fitxgrld !

[litnerdwrites]

This can't be seen as anything but racist to me.

We know three things about Illyrians based on what the IC have said in the books:

They are violent Misogynists, to the point where they believe mutilating women is supposed to be completely normal.

They are a warrior race who value status & bloodlines more than anything, happily throwing away and abusing those bastards and those considered weak.

They're super stubborn about the aforementioned points.

Nothing about the 'rich culture' that Illyria supposedly has. How does that make Rhys comparing Nesta to an Illyrian, especially as a woman, anything but insulting. It very much gives the same vibe as somebody insulting you, and then laughing it off because it's 'just a joke' even if it hurts you, putting you in an awkward position where your feelings are undermined but it's hard to speak up without seeming like you're making a mountain out of a molehill.

As things stand, all signs point to Rhys & Co. Not liking Illyrians. I'd argue that they outright hate Illyrians. So how could any comparison made between Nesta and an Illyrian be anything but an insult?

It's also unbelievably racist. The IC happily make comments about how terrible Illyria is and how it's cold and miserable. Mor says it right as they're walking through Illyria, so clearly they don't try to hide their distaste. The lack of Illyrian women in the library is also concerning, given that they're well aware of the treatment of women there, and in the HC. Why is that? Rhys is The Most Powerful High Lord, he could bring women to the library no problem, using his authority to overrule the Illyrians and save them, but doesn't. Why? Is maintaining an army worth the suffering of thousands? What about the orphans and bastards who are left with nothing? Or the children beaten regularly? Could he not do anything about that? Build more shelters, help provide more food, and other goods through trade?

Speaking of oppressed women, when Rhys compared Nesta to Illyrians, was he comparing to the oppressed women who are mutilated and abused regularly? Or the abusers who regularly mutilate and abuse women? Cause I have a feeling I know which and yet people still argue that Nesta 'should be grateful to him' and 'has said worse'.

Also, just generally, comparing a person you don't like or who you feel has wronged you, to an entire race of people you speak only negatively about, is racist. Especially when the original person isn't part of that race, like who tf do you think you are?

Even if Rhys did, hypothetically, mean it as a compliment, that doesn't make it any less racist or messed up. It means he has to reevaluate his view on the Illyrians, and learn more about them before ever speaking about/on behalf of them again.

Finally, let's talk about the 'she has no excuse' line.

First off, Nesta is having a very valid and common trauma response. One that I'm sure would be common in Illyria given how the Illyrians are a warrior race, and war is, well, traumatising. Veterans with ptsd, children being turned into soldiers, or beaten for having the audacity to be born with a uterus, families grieving the loss of mothers, fathers, daughters, wives, husbands, cousins, sons, sisters, brothers, friends, aunts, etc. Illyria, based on what we know, is probably ripe with traumatised people, and alcoholism, gambling and sex are some of the most common coping mechanisms for trauma. So what do you mean no excuse? Not even just Illyrian, but many people struggle with.

But, at the end of the day, a person's skin color has no bearing on what's an 'acceptable' form of coping. Suffering is suffering. Trauma is trauma. As things stood, the entirety of the IC were so unbelievably lucky that Nesta hadn't committed suicide, even by that point. Thinking of the potential suicides in both the HC and Illyria is actually terrifying, given the amount of trauma that the people from either location have to endure.

It makes you wonder what Mr. mental-health-matters-and-your-trauma-is-valid-Rhysand does to help the Illyrians to cope with their trauma? What resources do they have? Is there a library for them? What about a counselor, like the priestesses have? What about in the HC? What about the toxic masculinity that pressures boys into being strong soldiers, and abuse women? Being taught that they're there for domestic labour and child bearing, and nothing more?

Do you know what it feels like to be suffering in your own head, to the point you're contemplating an early grave, feeling alone, and unworthy of even the slightest affection or help, and everyone in your life just confirms your worst fears? Do you know how it feels to want to scream at the top of your lungs that everything from waking up to drinking water feels like the most difficult, painful thing you've ever done? Do you know how it feels when everyone tells you how much they love you, and want you to be happy, only to hate yourself even more when you can barely muster a smile for their sake, and all you can do in their presence is disassociate and try not to fall apart, as you hear your father's murder over and over again in your head?

Do you know what it feels like to be reminded time and time again how great you have it, and to be thankful, and that you should be happy for your life, and for the sake of others, and that it'll be better once you conform, and push everything down and let the world see you as a happy smiley person even if it kills you? Or what about when you're ridiculed, and insulted and spoken down to for the way you cope, the only thing keeping you alive? To never be able to let anyone see that part of you that's dying, because they care more about coping 'the right way' and appearances than you're wellbeing, is the most suffocating, lonely experience you could imagine.

If Nesta had conformed and interacted with the IC the way they wanted her to, I wholeheartedly believe she'd've been dead within a week. This is what Nesta's enduring, and the so called feminist, pro mental health, anti misogynist 'king' is saying things like that?

Seriously, it's such a small line, but it points to so many issues that people just refuse to acknowledge. It just comes off as Rhys being a misogynist who victim blames anyone who doesn't keep up appearances with him and his band of clowns and psychos.

thinking about the time rhysand said “nesta is… she’s illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an illyrian at heart. so there is no excuse for her behavior.”

and that behavior is... playing cards at seedy taverns while spending the money rhysand owes her? if she's an illyrian at heart then maybe he'd prefer she go on a rampage and slaughter an entire village? rhys trying to pass this off as a compliment is also ridiculous because everything sjm has written about illyrians paints them as savage, violent monsters with bigoted/misogynistic beliefs. he is so foul for this

[eu-nicola]

the finish line part 3

part 1 part 2

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 6122

author's note: english is not my first language, penultimate part

tags: @ferakillia @bunnies-p1tst0p @maluzets55

Determined to work things out, you called Lando and asked to speak in person. Even though deep down you already knew it would be a difficult and probably painful conversation, you also knew you couldn’t keep running away from your problems. Lando agreed to meet you at the hotel cafeteria, though his tone on the phone sounded tense and distant.

As you got ready, your stomach was turning. You thought back to the pictures and messages you’d received, the missed calls Lando had made to you after being discovered, and everything that had happened between you and Max. You took a breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, wanting to feel safe, and walked out to Lando’s hotel.

When you got to the cafeteria, you found him already waiting for you at a table in the back. He had a stiff posture, his hands folded in front of him on the table and his gaze fixed on the coffee in front of him. His eyes lifted slightly when he saw you arrive, and you noticed the mix of discomfort and guilt he was trying to hide under a calm facade.

You sat in silence, watching him carefully. After a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“Look, I don’t want… this conversation to get out of hand,” Lando began, his voice wavering. “I know you’re upset, and I’m clear on why. I just want you to know that… it wasn’t what it seemed.”

You looked at him, eyes narrowing. His words sounded forced, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. It hurt you to see him like this, so changed, so full of insecurity.

“It wasn’t what it seemed, Lando?” you asked, keeping your tone firm. “I saw the photos. Everyone has seen them.”

He frowned, clearly upset.

“You don’t have to make this any harder,” he replied in a defensive tone. “It was a mistake. I was just… I needed to distract myself.” But that doesn't change how I feel about you.

A mixture of anger and disappointment ran through you. You had expected a sincere apology, something more than excuses and empty promises. You tried to remain calm, but your words came out with the coldness of truth.

"How I feel has changed too, Lando," you said quietly. "All of this... I don't know if it makes sense."

Lando lowered his gaze, but you noticed that he still maintained that defensive air. It was clear that he wasn't fully assuming his responsibility; he didn't seem willing to face the consequences of his decisions.

"So this is it?" he asked in a bitter tone. "For a mistake? You weren't even there to support me like you always do. And what was I supposed to do?" His words sounded reproachful, as if he were trying to transfer part of the blame to you.

You bit your lip, holding back your fury. You knew it had been difficult for him not to have you around, but that didn't justify his attitude. Finally, you gathered your courage and faced the issue once and for all.

“This isn’t just about what happened, Lando. There’s something bigger going on here,” you told him firmly. “I need some time to think, to get clear on what I really want. I can’t stay in a relationship where I constantly have to worry about whether or not you’ll do the right thing when I’m gone.”

He gulped, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain in his eyes. But instead of acknowledging the problem, he chose to back away once again.

“Do what you want then,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh and looking away. “If you need time, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you.”

Those words were confirmation of everything you had felt during this last stage of your relationship. Without further ado, you stood up, leaving one last glance at the one you had considered your partner for so long. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and then you turned around and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

As you walked away, you felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. You had hoped that this conversation would bring you some sort of peace, a reconciliation, or at least a heartfelt explanation. But instead, it only confirmed what you already feared: perhaps it was time to put an end to it.

Back in your hotel room, you took a seat on the bed and looked around, trying to process everything that had happened. The room was silent, and the weight of your decision began to settle in, bringing with it a wave of conflicting emotions. You pulled out your phone and, almost without thinking, opened the message Max had sent you hours ago, wondering how your conversation with Lando had gone.

Without much hesitation, you wrote him a short reply.

You: “We just talked… and I think I need some time to sort out my feelings.”

After a few minutes, the phone vibrated. Max had replied:

Max: “Do whatever you need. Just remember that if you decide to move on, I’m here for you. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Reading his words, you felt a small spark of calm, as if the weight of everything that had happened had lightened a little. You knew that this time away would be necessary to understand what it was that you really wanted, but there was one thing clear in all of this: you needed to feel authentic again, without the shadows of a relationship that had begun to consume more than it offered.

Even though you wanted to take some time off, the last race of the year was being held in Abu Dhabi, and you had to attend. For you, the trip had a professional purpose: the promotion of Rolex. Despite having distanced yourself from Lando and having spent a few days trying to find clarity about your feelings, you knew that this race would also be the closing of an intense and emotional season.

Dressed elegantly, you wore a shiny Rolex watch that caught the light with every movement. As you walked through the paddock, you felt the gazes of some acquaintances and other members of the industry; everyone knew that you had been a constant figure in Lando's team, and now it seemed strange to see you in an independent context.

While you were fulfilling your promotional tasks, you crossed paths with Max. He wore his usual determined expression, but this time there was something different in his gaze. When he saw you, his eyes lit up slightly, as if something in him had made up his mind. You noticed that, despite the crowd, his steps were heading straight towards you, with a confidence that made your pulse race.

"Hey," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't think I'd find you here so early. How have you been?" His tone was warm, close, something different from the previous times.

“I'm�� fine, I guess” you answered, trying to sound casual, although the closeness made you feel a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “I had to be here for Rolex. You know what this sponsorship thing is like.”

He nodded, and for a moment they remained silent, watching the hustle and bustle of preparations around them.

“I know things have been complicated for you lately” Max said, with a more serious tone than usual. “And I don't want to seem nosy, but… I haven't stopped thinking about what we talked about last time.”

The sincerity in his words threw you off a little. You had tried to stay distant, focus on yourself, and not think about everything you had experienced. But there was Max, with his penetrating gaze and his usual confidence, willing to open up in a way that you hadn't seen in him until now.

“I'm not here to pressure you” he continued, looking into your eyes. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m willing to fight for you, if you just give me a chance.”

His confession resonated with you, breaking the barrier you had built up over the past few weeks. You felt like it wasn’t just a passing statement; there was a depth to his words that made you doubt everything you had tried to rationalize. Deep down, something in you had been waiting to hear this, though you refused to admit it.

“Max…” you began, not knowing exactly how to express what you felt. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. After everything that’s happened, I’m not sure that getting more involved is the best thing for either of us.”

He nodded, listening to each word patiently.

“I know,” he replied. “But there’s something I’ve learned this season, and that is that important opportunities aren’t always the easiest ones. I’ve been avoiding speaking clearly to you because I didn’t want to make things more complicated for you. But if I’m honest, I can’t pretend that I don’t care about you.”

The seriousness in his eyes left you speechless. He wasn’t the usual Max, arrogant and competitive; he was someone vulnerable, showing a part of him that was rarely seen. And although a part of you wanted to keep putting up barriers, another, deeper part of you was starting to give in to his words and his sincerity.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“What happened with Lando was difficult… and I don’t want you to be just a distraction, Max.” It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

He took a step closer, not invading your personal space, but enough for you to feel his presence more intensely.

"I'm not someone who'll settle for being a distraction," he said with a slight smile, but his tone was firm. "What I feel for you is real. And if you give me the chance, I'm willing to show you that I'm someone you can trust."

His words enveloped you, making you feel a warmth and security that you hadn't experienced in a long time. The hardness of the breakup with Lando was still present, but Max's presence offered you an alternative, a chance to rediscover what you really wanted and, perhaps, to be happy in a fuller sense.

After a few seconds of silence, you took a breath, letting your own emotions take control.

"I don't know what will happen after all this..." you murmured, looking at the floor for a moment before looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I think I'm willing to see where this takes us."

The smile on his face was almost imperceptible, but his eyes shone with a mix of determination and tenderness.

“Then I’ll start showing it from now on,” he said, taking your hand gently. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter how long it takes.”

After that brief exchange with Max, he said goodbye with a wink and walked away, leaving behind a feeling of anticipation that you couldn’t shake. You watched as he walked towards the Red Bull paddock, surrounded by his team, while you stood still for a moment, trying to clear your thoughts.

You decided it was time to move as well. You walked through the paddock area, the hustle and bustle around you. Drivers, engineers and journalists came and went, all focused on their own roles.

Suddenly, you saw him. Lando was up ahead, briefly chatting with one of the McLaren mechanics. He turned slightly, and for a moment, his eyes met yours. It was an instant, there was no smile, no nod of recognition, just eye contact that spoke of everything beneath the surface. He seemed distant, almost cold, and before you could say anything, he looked away and kept walking.

You stood still, feeling a knot form in your stomach. That small gesture, or lack thereof, hit you harder than you expected. You knew Lando was in his zone of concentration, but you couldn’t ignore the growing emotional distance that seemed to exist between you since you arrived in Qatar.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to keep walking, telling yourself that you couldn’t read too much into a simple glance. But the awkwardness remained.

As you left the paddock area you went straight to the VIP area to watch the race. The race was certainly a spectacle from the start. Max started from pole, while Lando started from second position.

From the first lap, Max took the lead, controlling the pace with ruthless precision. Behind him, Lando followed closely, pushing at every opportunity. But as the laps progressed, it became clear that Red Bull had fine-tuned their car to perfection. Max seemed untouchable.

Lando, however, was not giving up. He kept fighting, looking for every millimetre of advantage, every opportunity to close the gap. Until lap 38 came around. It all happened in the blink of an eye. In the fast corner before the main straight, Lando's car lost grip. Perhaps a miscalculation or just bad luck, but the McLaren hit the wall with a sharp impact. The yellow flag waved immediately, and your heart skipped a beat.

From your spot, your eyes were fixed on the giant screen, watching anxiously. Lando got out of the car quickly, waving his hands to indicate that he was okay, but you could see the frustration in his every move. He was furious.

As the McLaren team scrambled to pick up the remains of the car, the race continued. Max continued to dominate, and with each lap, his victory became more inevitable. Finally, he crossed the finish line in first place, securing the race win. Fireworks lit up the sky, and the Red Bull team erupted in celebrations.

When it was all over, you headed towards the McLaren paddock, where you saw him surrounded by his team, his face grim and his brow furrowed. There was no trace of the carefree smile he normally wore.

As he spoke to his engineers, you locked eyes with him for a brief second. He looked exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. Without exchanging words, you turned around and began walking towards the exit.

The day had been intense, and you needed time to process it all. You took a cab back to your hotel, watching the city lights flicker through the window as you sank into your thoughts. Lando was fine physically, and that was the most important thing.

Once in your room, you kicked off your shoes and dropped into bed. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions: worry about Lando, what you had talked about with Max, and a growing confusion within yourself. You picked up your phone and left it on the nightstand. You didn't know whether to expect a text from Lando or Max. Or maybe neither.

You sighed and closed your eyes.

You had barely laid down when the glow of your phone illuminated the darkness of the room. For a moment, you thought it might be Lando, perhaps to talk about what happened at the race, but when you saw Max’s name on the screen, your heart skipped a little.

Max: “I hope you’re okay after all the drama today. Listen, I was thinking… I’m going home to Monaco to rest before the next season. How about you come with me? It’d be great to have you here.”

The message was direct and blunt, typical of Max. You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly on the keyboard. The proposal took you by surprise, but at the same time, there was a part of you that had anticipated it.

You knew that accepting that invitation would involve much more than a simple vacation. It wasn't just the getaway to Monaco, it was everything that it meant: getting away from Lando once and for all from your own doubts, and facing the growing attraction you felt for Max.

You bit your lip, thinking of all the possible consequences. But then, your fingers began to move almost of their own volition.

You: "I don't know if it's a good idea, Max. This is all complicated."

It wasn't long before he responded.

Max: “Complicated? Maybe. But sometimes the complicated is the most exciting. You don't have to decide now. Think about it. I promise it will be an unforgettable trip."

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat. The silence of the room surrounded you, but your thoughts were chaos. You could imagine Max in his suite, confident and relaxed, waiting for your answer as if he already knew what it would be.

Several hours passed, with the conversation on hold. Finally, you found yourself typing something you didn't think would come out of you.

You: "Okay. I'll go. But only because I need a break, and Monaco sounds like a good place to clear my mind."

His reply came almost instantly.

Max: "Yeah, sure, just for that, but perfect. You won't regret it. Let me know when you get there and I'll take care of everything.”

You stared at your phone after reading those words, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had made a decision that could change everything, and while a part of you was scared, another couldn't wait to see what that vacation would bring.

The day of your flight to Monaco came faster than you expected. You had been tossing and turning in bed all night, thinking about what this new stage meant. Max had been clear in his invitation, and although you were hesitant at first, you couldn't help but feel excited about the trip. What started as a simple getaway to relax had turned into an opportunity to get to know a different side of Max. A side that until now you had only seen from afar.

You took an early morning flight, without looking back. As the plane flew through the sky, you immersed yourself in thoughts about everything you had left behind.

You arrived in Monaco around afternoon, and the airport was full of tourists, celebrities, and important figures. The warm, salty Mediterranean air mixed with the hustle and bustle of the people, and you could feel the vibrant energy emanating from the city streets.

You picked up your suitcase and quickly headed to the car Max had arranged for you. You knew you couldn't miss a second of this glamorous city, and you felt a little nervous. What did Max expect from you? How would all this change after a few days in his company?

The car drove through the narrow, elegant streets of Monaco, passing by the famous casinos, luxury yachts, and hills overlooking the sea. The scenery was stunning, as always, but even more impressive was what you felt when you thought of Max waiting for you.

When you arrived at Max's residence, a luxurious apartment overlooking the port, a butler greeted you with a smile and led you to the door. The suite was everything you had imagined: modern, spacious, and with a stunning view of the sea and yachts. The decor was elegant but warm, with touches of wood and soft colors. It wasn't just any place; it was a place designed for someone like him, someone accustomed to perfection.

You left your suitcase on the bed and looked at the clock. You knew Max had to be nearby. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the door open. You turned around and there he was, Max, with his characteristic air of confidence, but with something different in his gaze. It was as if, for a moment, everything was just for the two of them.

"Do you like the place?" he asked, approaching with a smile on his face.

“It’s… amazing,” I replied, looking around, trying to hide how nervous I felt.

Max took a step towards you, his gaze locked on yours, and although he seemed relaxed, there was something about his posture that gave away his interest. There was a spark in his eyes, something that made your heart beat a little faster. He moved even closer, and before you could react, his hands rested on your waist.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come, but I’m glad you agreed,” he said quietly, almost as if he was reading your thoughts.

You were in the heart of Monaco, and although the surroundings were luxurious and surrounded by powerful people, all that really mattered at that moment was the silent connection you shared with Max.

“What do we do now?” you asked, the nervousness starting to dissipate a little.

“Whatever you want,” Max replied, with a mischievous smile. “But, if you ask me, I think we could start with dinner.”

Before you could say anything else, he took you by the hand and led you through the apartment, into the open kitchen.

Max’s kitchen was just as modern as the rest of the place, with white marble surfaces that reflected the warm light from the lamps. Max began pulling fresh ingredients out of the fridge, inviting you to join him without thinking twice. At first, you were hesitant, but something in his eyes invited you to stay.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked as you watched him pull out tomatoes, basil, and olive oil.

Max smiled mischievously, a glint in his blue eyes. “I know a little. But only if you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty.”

You laughed at the idea. “I’m not a chef, but I can try.”

And so, between laughs and small jokes, they began to prepare dinner together. Max had decided to make fresh pasta with homemade pesto, one of his favorite dishes. While he was busy with the pasta, you took care of the salad, chopping vegetables and arranging the ingredients carefully. It was a simple, but shared moment, and the dynamic between the two of you felt natural, as if you had been doing this for years.

As the preparation progressed, the distance between you disappeared. Max gently guided you, giving you instructions on how to handle the ingredients, his hands sometimes brushing yours as you passed utensils or adjusted something in the pot. The conversation flowed easily, and you realized that, without thinking about it, you felt more comfortable with him than you had ever imagined.

When the pasta was ready, Max served it elegantly on two large plates, and together you sat at the table, enjoying the view offered by the balcony as the sun began to set behind the hills. The golden light illuminated the room and reflected off the glass, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The table was well set, but the conversation and proximity made everything seem much more intimate than it actually was.

“This is amazing,” you said, taking a bite of the pasta and nodding. “You surprise me.”

Max smiled, with a hint of pride. “I told you, I knew you’d appreciate it.”

The evening continued with laughter and anecdotes, talking about other things, about travel and what you liked to do in your free time. Max seemed genuinely interested in you, in your opinions, in what you thought about the small details of life. There was something so real and accessible about him at that moment, that you completely forgot the fact that, hours before, you had arrived in Monaco with a host of mixed emotions. Now, all that mattered was the present moment.

At the end of dinner, as the plates were empty and the wine glasses were slowly emptying, Max leaned slightly towards you, his gaze locked on yours. The room was quiet, the sound of the distant city, and for a second, it seemed like there were only the two of you left, sharing that space.

“You know?” he said, his voice soft, “I think this has been much better than any dinner I could have planned. I’m happy you came.”

You, without thinking too much about it, smiled and nodded. “I’m happy too. I didn’t imagine it would end like this.”

Max smiled again, and this time, the expression on his face was different. Softer, more approachable. It wasn’t just the confident, competitive Max from racing, but a version of him that seemed more vulnerable, more willing to share something more personal.

The chemistry between you was clear, and for the first time, you realized it wasn't just a superficial attraction. There was something much deeper, something you didn't know if it could be defined with words. But at that moment, there was no need. Being there, with Max, cooking, laughing, and sharing such a simple moment, was all you needed to know.

As the days passed in Monaco, the connection between you and Max became more and more evident.

Mornings were quiet, usually spent touring the city or relaxing on the terrace of his apartment while the sun slowly slipped over the horizon, tinting the sky in golden colors. Max was always around, whether it was to share a coffee in silence or to talk about what he was thinking for the next race. Often, their conversations were light, but there were times when, without warning, Max would drop a phrase or a confession that showed you a side of him you had never seen before.

One day, after lunch together, Max drove you through the mountains surrounding Monaco. As they drove along the winding roads, he began to talk, unprompted, about his life, about what it had taken to become who he was.

“My career isn’t just the podium, you know,” he said, looking out the window as the car moved down the road. “It’s everything I’ve had to leave behind: the parties, the relationships, the sacrifices… There are so many things people don’t see, so many difficult decisions.”

You looked at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. Max had never been a person who opened up easily, always so focused on his goal, so focused on winning and perfection. But now, he was speaking to you with brutal honesty, as if somehow, he had decided to share the deepest part of himself with you.

“I know,” you answered calmly, not knowing what else to say, but you looked at him with genuine understanding. “You’ve been at the center of all this since you were so young.” It’s not easy, and people often don’t understand what it entails.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the landscape as the car continued on its way.

“That’s why it’s hard to trust people sometimes, you know?” he said, his voice laced with subtle melancholy. “Everyone expects something from you, and sometimes you don’t even know if people like you for who you are, or for what you represent.”

A wave of empathy washed over you. Max had lived a life full of expectations, external pressures, pain, and it wasn’t hard to see how all of that had made him close some emotional doors. But in that moment, it seemed like you had somehow entered his inner circle. You had gotten him to open up, to share something so personal.

What surprised you the most was the way he understood you. It wasn’t just that Max listened to you; he understood you. In every conversation, in every gesture, there was something about him that seemed to sense what you felt, what you needed without you having to explain it with words. He wasn’t like Lando, who, although he had always been affectionate, had never shown that level of deep understanding. Lando had his own way of seeing things, but in his words there was never a place for your dreams or your insecurities. With Max, everything was different.

Max also began to talk about his long-term ambitions, about what he wanted outside of the race track, things that weren’t just achievements, medals or trophies. He told you about his love for family, his desire to form one.

Sometimes, you found yourself watching him as he spoke, unable to help but feel drawn not only to his appearance, but to the vulnerability he had begun to show. This was a different Max, a Max who asked for your opinion and valued what you said, and although he could be competitive and stubborn at times, there was something in his gaze that made you feel important.

And you, of course, couldn't help but share your own thoughts with him. At first, you thought it would be hard for you to open up so much to someone, but with him, everything flowed. You felt free to talk about your goals, about fashion, about your own fears, about your insecurities. Max supported you at all times, without judging or pressuring you, just giving you his unconditional support. The way he looked at you while you talked made you feel like, for the first time, someone really understood you.

That connection was getting stronger, getting more and more impossible to ignore. And you knew, even though you tried to stay rational, that something was changing between the two of you. It wasn't just the chemistry, it wasn't just the shared smiles or the jokes, it was something deeper. Max was becoming someone more than just the Formula 1 driver you admired from afar. And you... you were starting to have feelings for him.

As the days went by and you shared more moments together, from impromptu dinners to walks around the harbor, you realized that Max was showing you a side of him that few knew about, and that side was winning you over in a way you couldn't control. It was such a stark contrast to the relationship you had with Lando, because with him, everything had always been more superficial, more loaded with expectations of what a relationship should be.

With Max, things seemed more real, more natural. And even though you didn't know how he felt exactly, you couldn't help but feel that this moment you shared was something unique.

The air in Monaco felt heavier that day, as if the sun was shining brighter as you walked through the city with Max by your side, enjoying the scenery, but at the same time with a feeling of unease in your chest. Max, noticing your change in mood, looked at you with slight concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, but with the clarity of someone who knew something wasn’t right.

You nodded, trying not to give too much importance to the whirlwind of thoughts forming in your head. You had been dealing with this silently for days, but now, while you were with Max, the doubts and feelings couldn’t be left behind. You decided it was time to face it, even though you didn’t know how he would react.

Just a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket, interrupting the peaceful walk. Looking at the screen, you saw Lando’s name and felt a pang in your stomach. With your pulse racing, you decided to open the message.

Lando: “I miss you. “I want to go back, I want things to be okay between us.”

A lump formed in your throat as you read the words. You knew he had been trying to reach you, that he still held out hope that things could be like they were before, but something inside you told you it was time to let him go. You knew you couldn’t keep fooling yourself, or Lando, or Max. Everyone’s paths had changed, and even though you had loved Lando at one time, everything seemed different now. The connection with Max was something you couldn’t ignore, a truth that had been growing between you and you could no longer deny it.

With shaking hands, you began typing out your reply. You didn’t want to do it over text, but at the same time, you knew it was the most direct and honest thing to do.

You: “Lando, I appreciate you so much, but we both know our lives are taking different paths. I don’t feel the same way I used to anymore. I’m spending time with Max now… things have changed, and I can’t move on with us. You know what you did and I did it to him.”

The phone stayed in your hands for a second, your heart pounding, and before you could regret it, you hit “send.” The relief was immediate, but it was also accompanied by a soft pain, like a wound that had been slowly closing, but was still bleeding.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before Lando replied to you. The tone of his text was clear: he was hurt, frustrated, and angry.

Lando: “So you’re with Max now, huh? I can’t believe it. I knew something was going on between you two, but this… This doesn’t just hurt me, it’s going to affect our image too. You’re breaking everything we built, everything we had.”

You read those words, and even though they hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew you couldn’t continue in something that no longer had a foundation, something that had worn away inside. But Lando’s words pierced you like an arrow, and in that moment, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Breaking up with him didn’t just mean letting go of a relationship, but also dealing with the consequences of the decisions you had made.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and with a firm voice, you answered, knowing that there could be no turning back.

You: “Don't blame me, you were the one who slept with another woman and let the paparazzi catch you. This is the best for both of us, we no longer love each other like we once did.”

As soon as you sent the message, the tension in the air increased. Max, who had been by your side all this time, watched your face with an expression that seemed to understand what had just happened, although without saying a word.

Lando quickly responded, this time with more anger and resentment.

Lando: “You're going to see what's going to happen now. You know that this relationship has given us both so much, but it seems that it means nothing to you. You've left me in the lurch, and now I'm forced to deal with the public image of all this, with everything we've built, just because of one bad decision. Don't call me ever again.”

His final message hit you harder than you expected. It was final closure, and even though deep down you knew you had done the right thing, a part of you felt the weight of the words he had just written. You couldn’t deny that things between you and Lando had changed, but the fury in his message made it clear to you that, at that moment, he couldn’t understand your decision.

Max, seeing that you were tense from the answer, put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you had no other choice. You deserve to be happy, and if that means moving on, then that’s what you have to do.”

You turned to him, grateful for his words. His understanding, his calm, was in complete contrast to the intensity of what you had just been through. Deep down in your heart you prayed that Lando wouldn’t do anything but you knew him, you knew how he got when he was angry and you were prepared to read your name and Max’s on the internet the next morning.

[hford0311]

In my silence I adored you

*Avenger's Tower Fanfic*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Hey girl, what-cha doing down there? Dancing alone while I live right above you; I can hear your music playing; I can feel your body swaying

It didn't take a super soldier to hear the music that came out of your apartment. However, the one above you did understand the lyrics, not like most of the others that lived in the tower. He didn't mind it, sometimes, it became a soothing thing when the nightmares woke him up. The vibrations of the music and lyrics gave him was a micro-confirmation that he was no longer in the Soviet Union. No longer trapped under any ice.

"Okay, but how come you can't go one day without it?" Sam asked about your music during breakfast. You shrugged, "I have my space. It mostly stays in my space. Just like Redwing." Bucky snickered. Sam slightly aggressively turned towards his best friend-enemy man. "You live above her! What are your thoughts?" Bucky was slightly started by the question. "I-I don't mind it." You stuck your tongue out at Sam, putting your dishes in sink, and walked away. "You said you only like forties music." Sam accused as soon as you were out of ear shot. Bucky avoided eye contact before he cleared his throat, "I have to train with Steve."

One floor below me, you don't even know me, I love you

When that and a combination of other things didn't work, keep falling back into night terrors, Bucky would sit in front of his glass windows, curtains pulled back. At first, his eyes would wander the city lights. Eventually, his eyes would shift down below and see your shadow swaying and dancing to the music that was nearly never ending. It was a constant, consistency made reality easier to believe in. You were starting to become that in Bucky's word, even though you never would've known. He never mentioned it.

If you look out your window tonight, pulling the string with the note that's attached to my heart; Read how many times I saw you, how in my silence I adored you.

Sure, Bucky and you met occasionally during missions and Avengers' (aka Tony Stark's) parties. However, neither of you ever got beyond glances, brief introductions, and the incredibly rare argument-- sorry polite conversation-- that Steve, Sam, or Nat would drag the pair of you into. Both of you would roll your eyes at the dragger and their "opponent." Plus, the pair of you would almost always be against whatever Sam was arguing. Bucky appreciated the team effort from you. You were also a bit of a history buff which sometimes led to his ears pricking up to some type of familiarity that he could confidently nod along with or it would help him connect the dots with events that didn't include the Winter Soldier.

It took one of these little rantings of knowledge you had, Steve and Sam saw the captivated look that Bucky distantly gave you. They both also knew it wasn't just the words coming out of your mouth that Bucky was interested in, either. The pair of men shared an look. They knew their mission.

"Alright boys, it's been fun." You said getting up, heading towards your apartment. "Don't have too much fun without me." You waved as you hit the stairs.

The duo of men encircled Bucky. "You have a problem." Same stated as if it was obvious and something much worse than actuality. "Sam-" Steve tried to soften the blow. "No, he is in love with that girl and he hasn't said more than five words to her." Sam insisted. Bucky gave them both a confused stare. "Y/n, Buck, we can tell." Steve cleared up. Bucky's face went to complete denial. "No, I don't."

"Those eyes you gave her earlier tell a different story, Buck." Steve softly argued. Bucky groaned and put his hands in his face. "So what if I do? She's living a happy life...why.....why should I enter it more just to ruin it?" Sam and Steve gave each other soft looks. However, both of them were not going to give up that easily. "You're different now. You've said it yourself, you're not the Winter Soldier anymore." Sam stated. "Even if that's true...who said that she's going to....want me back." Doubt filled Bucky's entire body and mind. The pair of men were not going to change his mind in one night.

Only in my dreams did that wall between us come apart

Another night, Bucky added to looking down at your shadow. He wanted to go down and dance with you. Over seventy years ago, Bucky wouldn't waste another second to do. He would've swept you off your feet, literally. He would hold you close during the slower songs, inhaling your scent. Softly kissing your forehead, cheeks, lips... Bucky heavily sighed out loud, walking away from the window.

Oh my darlin', knock three times on the ceiling if you want me; twice on the pipe if the answer is no.

Sam and Steve showed up at your door. You gave them both a confused. "Come in...stop lurking at my door." You responded, letting them in. "So, how long have you liked Bucky?" Sam got straight to the point. You scoffed and slouched in one of your chairs. "Who said-" "Y/n, you never mentioned your knowledge about your so-called fascination with the 1930s before your first mission with him." Steve confronted you. You shrugged, "A girl can learn new things." Sam rolled his eyes. "They're both impossible, Steve." You sat up a little. "What do you mean by both of us?" For the third time that night, Sam and Steve shared a smirk and an idea.

Oh my sweetness *knock, knock, knock* means you'll meet me in the hallway; twice on the pipe *clang, clang* means you ain't gonna show*

You hummed the song you left playing in your room as you approached Bucky's door. You took a deep breath before knocked with the beat that Bucky could perfectly hear from your apartment below. He hesitantly answered. Then saw you, a small smile etched across his face. "It means that I want you, and that I want to meet you in the hallway-- granted next time it'll be on the ceiling but-" Your breath of words was stopped short by Bucky pulling you into his apartment.

~~ Sam looked at Steve, stifling a laugh, "There isn't really a pipe for her to say no to."

[pottergff]

nightmares.

hjp x reader ! (ootp - 5th year).

summary: harry is having nightmares often, so to help him sleep better, you sleep with him <3

warnings: nope, just fluff and cuddles.

a/n: this is my first post like that so pls have mercy. besides, english is not my native language so sorry if there are any spelling or writing mistakes. i hope you like it!

Harry had his face buried in your chest, his breath warming you as his arms wrapped around your waist. His ears were filled with your soft voice, humming Mazzy Star songs. The melodies played on the muggle music player Arthur Weasley gave you two Christmases ago.

One of your hands was tangled in his soft dark hair, while the other wrapped around his neck, caressing it tenderly.

"Really, thank you for staying, love. I needed you" - he murmured against your neck, his voice a little muffled. You couldn't help but smile slightly at his words and his relaxed tone of voice.

It wasn't news that Harry has nightmares about Voldemort and his traumas, but when Hermione told you about it, you were very worried. It was also not news that your boyfriend is stubborn and quite reserved about his problems, although you were always his most trusted person and he had no problem looking for you when he felt bad and the burden of the magical world overwhelmed him. But you also knew that he hadn't mentioned the subject of nightmares because he didn't want to worry you, it was something he used to do and you had argued about a few times.

"I'll always be there, no matter what. Don't forget that, Harry" - you murmured and pushed back a few small strands of hair that fell on his forehead. You looked at him and placed a kiss on his forehead, looking at him lovingly.

The boy lifted his head from your chest to look at you, his eyes tired from so many failed attempts at sleep. "And for that I thank you, because no matter what, you're always there for me.." - he said in a murmur, his words a little slurred by his desire to sleep. "I don't know what I would do without you." - He added, whispering those last words.

Your hand that was on his neck, moved to his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "You don't have to thank me, I'm doing this because I care about you and the only thing that matters to me is that you're okay" - you told him with an even lower and softer voice, looking deeply into his clear eyes.

He exhaled heavily through his nose and relaxed into your touch, never looking away from your eyes. "I love you, so much." - He whispered before burying his face in your chest again while closed his eyes, relaxing.

You caressed his hair again, your fingers through his locks, massaging his scalp. "Me too, I love you so so much." - you whispered and left a kiss on his head. - "Try to rest, yeah? You have to do it, love." The only response you got from him was a barely audible "mhm" and a slight nod.

"Love, uhm.." - he settled better on your chest, burying his face further into the warmth of your body and hugging you tighter - "Can you keep humming to me? Please, your voice relaxes me" - he said in a slightly embarrassed and muffled tone. You smiled tenderly at his request. "If you want," you replied and hummed the tune playing on the music player again.

Little by little, you felt his breathing slow down and his body felt heavier against you, a sign that he was managing to sleep, and finally in a peacefully way. You couldn't help but admire the scene in front of you: the simple fact of having Harry like this, in your arms, and knowing that you made him feel safe, warmed your heart and caused millions of butterflies to flutter in your stomach.