#as compensation for their “terrible mistake”

[glitteringcrab]

It's secrets

...What kind of secrets?

If those documents were describing how Evil Morty was puppeteering e.g. the head of the Citadel's Police department (and other random Ricks) I'd understand why Campaign Manager Morty didn't go to the authorities, but...

Why did neither Trenchcoat Rick nor Campaign Manager Morty at least try to distribute fliers with these incriminating photos...? I mean, printing copies of the photo of Candidate Morty wearing an eyepatch next to a brain-surgery-ed Rick (along maybe with some tidbit of information) and scattering them in Morty Town would result in Mortys lynching the candidate of their own party. Problem solved.

Yet neither Trenchcoat Rick nor Campaign Manager Morty tried to do that. Why? What was in those documents...?

Well, if the theory of the existence (and survival) of Puppetmaster Rick is true, I can think of a possible explanation:

Another fan very cleverly suggested that, in order to escape Puppetmaster Rick, Evil Morty "arranged an accident involving a portal gun, since we know that Morty is able to fuck with portal guns settings and hack them, but what also is really important, Citadel Guard Ricks appear when a portal gun owned by a Rick who got it from the Citadel gets damaged".

And I absolutely love this theory. Because it would mean that Citadel Ricks sentenced him to a Citadel punishment, which could be the Machine Of Unspeakable Doom:

(also, every ten seconds it stabs your balls)

(which serves him RIGHT)

However, sadly, I feel it is unlikely that Citadel Ricks would sentence Puppetmaster Rick AT ALL for committing crimes against Mortys. Or Beths... Or Summers, or the multiverse, or anything at all, except other Ricks.

After all, Citadel Rick treat Mortys like cattle...

We've witnessed Evil Morty kidnapping roughly ONE THOUSAND MORTYS (I counted them) to use as human shields but it was the death of 27 Ricks that ruffled the Citadel Ricks' feathers.

Similarly, it was Rick C-137 getting captured by the Federation and risking Citadel secrets falling into the Federation's hands that convinced Ricks to interfere.

CITADEL RICKS SEEM TO TAKE ACTION ONLY WHEN CITADEL RICKS ARE IN TROUBLE.

...Would they really help Evil Morty if they popped up in time to witness what Puppetmaster Rick had been doing to him?

And, more importantly (because e.g. Doofus Rick would totally help Evil Morty), would Evil Morty believe they'd help him, interfere for his sake? Is his behavior afterwards indication that any Rick ever genuinely and reliably took his side?

Would Evil Morty really chose to rely on the goodwill of the random Citadel Rick who would pop at his doorstep?

...So WHAT IF:

1. While he was still trapped, Evil Morty lured another Rick in Puppetmaster Rick's lair, and half-operated on him, like... leaving his skull open and cables visible, before calling for the Citadel Guards by e.g. smashing a portal gun, making it look like Puppetmaster Rick had been preying on Ricks, effectively framing Puppetmaster Rick for a crime he didn't commit. Who then tried the "My Morty Did It" defense, which of course didn't sell lol.

2. Citadel Ricks promptly arrested Puppetmaster Rick and Evil Morty was FINALLY free. Puppetmaster Rick got sentenced in the Machine of Unspeakable Doom, and spent the whole first season there (yayyy).

Evil Morty went on to be abused and neglected by more Ricks until he snapped and began puppeteering Evil Rick in a long-term attempt to bring the Central Finite Curve down, which failed.

3. When the Citadel Guards discovered Evil Rick had been puppeteered by someone, they temporarily extracted Puppetmaster Rick from the DoUM to drill him about who else could be using his tech.

4. Puppetmaster Rick insisted that IT WAS THE MORTY YOU IDIOTS! LOOK FOR THE MORTY!

Which the Citadel Ricks of course ignored and threw him back in the MoUD.

5. ...However, understanding that this might be his only chance for freedom, before getting back in the MoUD, Puppetmaster Rick requested for and hired a private investigator (who also looked the part lol)...

...offering him large amounts of money flurbos if he found the puppeteered Rick's Morty: the Morty with the eyepatch who vanished in the crowd.

6. I have NO IDEA how Trenchcoat Rick managed to successfully make the connection between the Eyepatch Morty accompanying the puppeteered Rick and the Candidate Morty trying to get elected, but apparently he did:

Was it by accident? Did he achieve it by brute force, i.e. tracking down each and every one of the thousand Mortys involved in "Close Rick-counters of the Rick Kind"? Did he get suspicious of the ambitious Candidate Morty who stood out from the crowd? Did he use some intel, some information granted to him by Puppetmaster Rick? Was it something else entirely?

7. And here's the thing: however Trenchcoat Rick managed it, what do the incriminating photos he acquired prove?

Sure, they connect Candidate Morty to the Eyepatched Morty who accompanied Evil Rick, therefore directly proving him responsible for all the crimes Evil Rick had committed while puppeteered...

...But they also directly connect Candidate Morty to Puppetmaster Rick, proving that, in fact, it is possible for A Morty To Do It.

Those documents could be digging really deep into Evil Morty's past (seeecrets)

Handing those documents over to the authorities would equate Puppetmaster Rick (who, if my theory is right, is a freaking rapist), getting freed.

8. While the Ricks running the Citadel are definitely heartless bastards, we've been shown various random Ricks (such as Cop Rick and Doofus Rick) being decent. Even if Trenchcoat Rick didn't know exactly what Puppetmaster Rick had been doing to his Morty, he might have realized that his client had been puppeteering people in general. It's possible Trenchcoat Rick had become disgusted with his client and wanted out. (It's also possible he suspected what had really happened to Eyepatch Morty and pitied him... but not enough to actually take his side. He may not have had it in himself to personally and directly cause further harm to this one extremely traumatized Morty, but at the same time he couldn't be bothered to exert enough effort to try to meaningfully resolve this, to offer Eyepatch Morty actual protection, an actual feasible way out of the systemic abuse)

He knew Candidate Morty was dangerous and definitely needed to be stopped... but he also absolutely did not want to hand his client his "Get Out of Jail Free" card (nor to get his own hands dirty nor to do the very hard thing of actually, meaningfully reaching out to Eyepatch Morty, to be there for a kid whom every other Rick had failed).

9. So Trenchcoat Rick takes the path of least resistance and washes his hands of this problem by passing the burden on to someone else: to the Campaign Manager Morty who Candidate Morty oh-so-conveniently fired out of the blue, giving the kid an extra reason to despise his old boss...

It's even possible he privately contacted Candidate Morty and theatened him to drop out of the race, or else. But Candidate Morty would not stop (and probably got from the fact that he got warned that whoever was spying on him was for whatever reason reluctant for the truth to come out).

(...And I'm gonna say here that --if EM realized that T.R. had figured out what he had been through-- it must have been a pretty significant blow to Eyepatch Morty to have someone know the full extent of what he had been through... but unlike Ricks (who got to enjoy their Mortys' empathy) this knowledge not granting him any companionship, understanding, comfort nor forgiveness.)

10. Who is then faced with the exact same dilemma.

As far as he is concerned, Candidate Morty and Puppetmaster Rick are an equally horrible duo, with one being sentenced equating the freedom of the other, and the reverse (I really doubt he could guess what had happened to Candidate Morty, and I'd bet he just thought both he and his old Rick were monstrous).

How does decent, brave, honest Campaign Manager Morty solve this conundrum?

Why, he decides to deal with Evil Morty himself. (Sure doesn't have a Rick's experience, equipment or skills but he'll try his best. He'll find a way to deal with this, and fast.)

...Thus playing right into Evil Morty's hands.

ONLY when he has no other choice does Campaign Manager Morty come forward with why exactly Candidate Morty is dangerous, so he can save everyone from a very horrible fate...

(...too late)

[strawberrymochin]

𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 🎐

- sanemi shinazugawa x fem!reader

After your father sold you out in a brothel, life has never been the same. One night, you get to know a man wants to buy you out. Compelled to your fate, you get ready to leave. However things get bloody, and a demon attacks the brothel. Fortunately an accidental presence of a demon slayer saves you all. As the dawn breaks, the owner seems to be devastated at the formidable destruction and latches out on you. Much expected from your fate, you say nothing but lower your head swallowing insults but what you didn't expect was the slayer ready to compensate, buying you out instead of the man.

Series genre/warnings- 18+ suggestive content | mdni | marriage of convenience | slight slow burn | sexual themes | blood | death | degradation | profanity | sanemi in denial for being whipped for the reader | masturbation | exploring dark themes | crack | angst to fluffy |

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The candlelights flickered casting it's dim hue over the room, as you closed the fusuma doors, taking a deep breath and get on gathering your belongings.

A few moments ago a man decided to buy you out. Your brothel lady was shocked at first but soon a smile of contentment coats her face, after all she was desperate to bid you off.

You sighed, tying the knot of your belongings tight, ready to go with the man who bought your freedom. Slowly you rise to your feet, taking around a look at the room you spend the last 8 years of your life. And there's a pang in your chest realising you couldn't remember any nights you spend in this room without crying. At this point you were unsure whether this was a room or a chamber of hell.

Hell— this was what your life looked like after your father sold you off in this brothel 8 years ago, when you were just 10. A ghost smile crosses your lips as you realise you had eventually forgotten how he looked like; how his voice used to comfort you; how his eyes would wrinkle seeing you playing with your little brother.

Everything changed that one day— the day you lost your mother and your little brother. If only you insisted to stay home that day and let your brother go foraging with your dad maybe things wouldn't have turned out like this.

Maybe you would have lost your life along with your mother, laid lifeless among the pool of blood staining your blue floral patterned kimono which you treasured dearly but your little brother would have survived. And you wouldn't have to play puppet in this world. If only.

If...only.

You slide the fusuma doors once again, head facing downwards, careful watching your feet touching the tatami mats on the corridors, fully stepping outside, marking a new change in your life.

You walk up to the corner, heading to the room your owner should be waiting for you.

The corridors are oddly quite today. Usually the other courtesans working here would be chatting around in the hallway or atleast make an appearance of sympathy when one among them gets bought out.

However none showed up.

You announce your arrival sliding the fusuma doors without much thinking when none answers.

The Second mistake of your life.

A strong metallic smell along with a hint of pungency striked your nose causing you to raise your head in a instant and the scene which your eyes swallows dries up your throat.

The brothel lady stuck close to the corner of the room shivering with fear as blood stained the right sleeve of her kimono. Your head turns to the opposite of the room— her husband laid there dead as a corpse, face terribly scratched, missing an eyeball while has rolled to the other side of the room and a hand causing blood to gush out of the wound.

Your blood ran cold as your thundering heart stilled for a second when you realised there's a third party present in the room, whom you totally ignored— the man who intended to buy you— your eyes met his black ones, darker even than the night of new moon, filled with malicious intent. His face seemed pale from before, veins ticking out on his face as his tongue latches out cleaning his blood painted lips with a swift curl, grinning at you.

"Ahh finally you're here!" He says throwing the hand of the owner he was munching on a few seconds ago. "W-what did you do?" You shout unbelievably, even shocking yourself to believe you have this tone. "Oh well, stop shouting honey, you see you were taking time and I was growing impatient with hunger....so I thought why not have a snack before dinner." He said pointing a finger at you as the word dinner slips out from his lips.

A demon.

This was indeed a demon.

The one about whom you've been warned of from your seniors.

You wanted to run away, but your legs seem to gave away it's remaining strength. Where are the other girls? Your mind drifts back to the corridors, now connecting the reason of silence. There were no blood spots or any smell in the corridors which means they either ran away or are hiding somewhere.

There's little you can do, but you make up your mind. Using all of your courage and strength you run to the brothel lady, grabbing her hand, pulling her out of the corner, making your way out. It's just a few steps away. The dead body of the husband was between you and the demon so there must be atleast a delay of few seconds for him to stop your attempt of fleeing. You just need to be fast, tightening the grip on the lady's wrist you run even more fast.

Just one more step and you will be out of the room. Hope shined bright in your eyes when you are suddenly flung backwards till your back pressed on the wall harshly and a hand grips your throat disarming you of any oxygen you had. Your hands no more felt the grip over the lady's wrist. The demon's face was only a few inches away from yours. Death was just a few blinks away. Why not give in? What else do you have to live for? You don't even know whether your father is alive or not. Why not die then? Reunite with your mother and cradle your little brother. Meet them in after life.

"Kill me if you want to," you cough out blood as his pitch black eyes stared into you, sniffing his meal with a cunning smile plastered on his face, "but spare the lady, she has nothing to do with it." You spit out the last of your oxygen.

"And who do you think you are to order me? I will devour both of you, my marechi" He shifts his body weight to his other hand, backing it gathering more force as it comes to latch on your flesh.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Ready to meet death. There's nothing you can do anyway.

A loud sound with a quick crack echoed through the air.

“Wind breathing: second form ”

Certain seconds pass but you feel nothing rather than rustling and a few gusts of wind.

“Claws- purifying wind”

Scared, you open your eyes. You're still alive. The hand still gripping your neck but the demon's body was disintegrating, turning into ashes. It's head was cut off laying on the ground spiting curses at you all. What happened? Your pupils turn to see the lady still trembling, laying beside the dead body of her husband as she eyes someone.

The demon's body slowly disintegrates, as your eyes come in view of a figure. Of a man. His back facing you. He wore a white half haori matching to the colour of his hair, which rustles in dense air in which bits of paper from the broken window frame floats. He sheathed back his sword, turning to look at you.

Lilac eyes locks in yours as the guy, face and body adorned with several scars came up to you. "You okay?" His husky voice rang aloud in your ears piercing the momentum of silence you experienced seconds ago.

Black surrounds your vision as you fill your oxygen deprived lungs with chunks of air and before you could answer his question, you pass out.

You wake up to the noise of several women gossiping beside you.

"Look, she's awake." The other courtesans chimed in noticing you gaining your consciousness.

"Are you okay?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Things must have been tough last night."

Last night? Your vision cleared a bit as you notice dawn's breaking. Last night........a demon latched into the brothel. "Where's the brothel lady is she okay?" You choke on your words, starting to cough as a courtesan offers you water patting your back. "She's okay but she can't use her right hand anymore. She also lost her husband. We were so worried but couldn't gather the courage to show up and ran away for the mean time."

"On our way fortunately, we found a hashira. If he'd not made here in time, I can't imagine what would have happened." Another courtesan spewed out her words, tears clouding her eyes.

"Hashira?" You ask.

"A highest ranking demon slayer." Your mind drifts back to the memory of his scarred face and lilac eyes, engraved before you passed out. 'You okay?' he'd asked which you didn't had the energy to answer.

"Oh is he still here? I should go and thank him." You push yourself up wanting to go thank that hashira who saved your life. The other kind courtesans tried to help you but you refused. You also planned to visit the brothel lady to check on her conditions. She must be devastated at the loss of her husband.

But as soon as you leave the room, your right cheek stinged with pain. The brothel lady was infront of you, fuming and raging. Her right hand was tightly bandaged as your hand travel upto your burning cheek to reduce the pain. She slapped you with her left hand.

"Useless girl! Why didn't you die yesterday?!" She spat bitterly as the girls surrounding you gasp at the scene.

"I-im sorry to cause you pain hinazuru-sama" you wince as she uses her left hand to grab your hair pushing you down at her feet. "If only you didn't lured that demon in with your filthy blood, my husband would have been alive! Why did I feed you all these years?! You brought no profit rather caused trouble with every customer we had for you! And now who's going to pay for th—" she was about to strike you once again when her hand was stopped by someone.

You didn't dared to look up, keeping your head low bowing infront of the brothel lady's feet.

"Shi-shinazugawa-sama...."

"What do you think you're doing?" The familiar voice you heard before passing out growled to the lady. "Is this how you treat all the girls who work for you to provide you three times meal a day?"

The courtesans take a step away seeing the horrific figure of the hashira, even if he saved their lives, his sole presence was intimidating enough to make shivers run through one's spine.

"I think you're mistaken shinazugawa-sama. I'm the one who feeds and takes care of the girls giving them chance to pay their debts."

"And if they desert refusing to work, how do you think will you able to earn?"

"They have to work and pay off their debts. And even if I see things from your perspective, this filthy girl earned me no profit. Then why shall I consider feeding her day and night? There's no man willing to buy her, if only the demon last night ate her instead of my husband...." Her voice cracks but she still continues, "I would have gotten rid of her and there would have been no destruction. Tell me. Who's gonna pay for my husband's death? Pay for the destruction of the brothel? Who's gonna buy her?"

You swallow all of her insults not wanting to look at her face. You have no words for your defence.

"Isn't it pathetic to disrespect your husband's precious life for some mere money?"

"money's the language world speaks shinazugawa sama, do you think you can survive without that?"

"How much?"

"huh?" The lady frowns upon the question of the hashira, confused how to interpret his question. Getting bored he releases her hand and takes out a huge amount of cash from his pocket, throwing it right on the face of the brothel lady.

"Get your stuff. We are leaving in 5 mins." He says. And for the first time till now, you raise your head, your eyes meet his lilac once again.

Some courtesans sprewed gossip while some were worried for you. Sanemi shinazugawa— the wind pillar of the demon slayer corps bought you out. He looked scary as hell and people would prefer staying away from him. Yet you had no other option but to gather your belongings which you packed last night and follow him out, leaving the brothel forever.

The amount he payed to the brothel lady covered all of your debts including the cost of the repairs of the last night's destruction. No wonder he was heavy in pockets— enough to shut the brothel lady's lips.

You follow the slayer in bright sunlight as he keeps walking in a fast pace making it difficult for you to catch up. "We split ways here. You go on your own way and I go on my own." He announces without looking back at you.

What? Didn't he buy you? Where are you gonna go? Normally when girls get bought out from a brothel, they are bought for the intention of the man to get married or just have a loose women by his side. If the slayer isn't going to marry you or have you by his side then why did he buy you in the first place. Where are you supposed to go?

By the time you get out of your thoughts, sanemi walked off way far. Panic rushes through your entire body causing you to sprint through the crowd wanting to reach up to him. You ran through the crowds hitting people and apologising, some cursing at your behaviour, however you were to spent to think about the societal judgements of people. Where are you gonna spend the night today?

Among the dizzying daylight, you rarely laid your feet out, being always shut behind the doors of those red curtains, it was difficult for you adjust in a crowdy place.

"Danna sama!" Sanemi turns at the familiar voice seeing you panting infront of him. "What the fuc— didn't i tell you to go your own way." You say nothing trying to catch up your breath.

Danna sama? A faint hint of embarrassment taints his cheeks red. Why the hell are you referring him that?

"Where's your home?" He asks getting annoyed.

"I don't have any."

"huh?"

"Eight years ago my father sold me off in this brothel, i don't know if he's alive or not. I have nowhere to go." Sanemi halts, turning properly this time to look at you. "Any relatives?" You look down, shaking your head.

Sanemi regrets his decision of getting you out of the brothel. Whatever happens behind that red curtains was none of his buisness. How will he carry out his mission with you around? He should have known that the line he works in allows no sympathy. What will he do now? Take you back to the brothel?

He wanted to shove you back from where he took you out. However he couldn't bring himself to do that. Unwillingly, he extends his arm as a crow sits on it.

"Follow this crow and wait for me till I get home." He orders and in a blink of eye the white haired slayer was gone.

What remained was his crow, now sitting on your shoulder as it caws, ‘Go to the east. The south east.’

You were shocked to see a crow speaking, shooing it away, but it came back to you everytime. Lastly you had no other option other than compelling to move as the crow instructs.

Time for taisho rumours-:

Next episode- Behind the estate of wind hashira

a/n- taglist is open, if you wanna get notified when the other episodes of this series come out, you can text me to join or comment. I hope you find this entertaining cuz my god I swear I've been thinking about this for days .......

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[bg3storage]

Everyone meet my child, Tav! A sorcerer/bard multiclass with a dark and mysterious past. Check out Tavcore for more personality tidbits.

I realized I never gave a full introduction to Tavie except her booty in the Astarion gifsets so here she is! I based the design of this gifset on the amazing template by @eeldritchblast which helped guide the way.

⋆☁︎｡⋆｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆ FUN FACTS ABOUT TAV ⋆☁︎｡⋆｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆

She was a bard in Baldur's Gate under the tutelage of a satyr whom she considered her brother.

Said brother also had ties to the Zhentarim so Nine Fingers Keene and Tav grew up around each other. 

It was because of this satyr that Tav carries the Bard class along with her inherent abilities as a sorcerer. 

Tav always assumed she was given the gift of Wild Magic due to her own unpredictable emotions so her spellcraft must reflect this. 

Tav was haunted by nightmares and vile urges her entire life but gave herself fully to Bhaal after the death of her brother. 

Her favorite instrument is the lute. After the murder of Alfira, Tav carries Lihala's Lute with her for the rest of the game to honor the fallen bards. 

Loves dresses, bows, and all things fashion which is possibly what influenced the Temple of Bhaal’s fashion glow up between games.

Her eyes used to be a light brown almost hazel but her service to Bhaal gave her this new eye color 

As the game progresses and she resists the urge further her eyes revert back to their original color. 

Similar to her eyes, Tav’s hair grew gray and incredibly long during her time ruling the Temple of Bhaal → Due to her resistance the original brown her hair once was is returning. 

Has a journal full of songs, drawings, and musings (similar to Arthur Morgan’s journal from RDR2)

When the urge grows closer to taking over the writings and drawings can become manic and indecipherable 

Tries almost too hard to be good, it is obvious she is compensating for something. 

Attempts the “fake it till you make it” attitude when it comes to life after the Nautiloid crash. Since she is haunted by terrifying thoughts, Tav keeps this part of herself incredibly secret and puts up a mask of positivity and kindness. She is sure that once her companions find out who she really is they will turn on her. 

As the story goes on, Tav realizes that this “mask” is actually closer to who she is on the inside.

Rarely gets a full night sleep due to nightmares and head buzzing with plans for battle. 

Often goes on walks, sits by the fire, or goes for a swim to clear her head. 

A huge fan of reading, especially studying history to not make the same mistakes as her ancestors. 

This often informs her strategy and plans especially when creating the plan to take the Crown of Karsus. 

Reading is also what facilitated her initial bond with Gortash when part of the Dead Three. 

Was terrible at wielding any kind of weapon until Wyll graciously helped her train to use a sword and shield. 

However, if she has to she’ll whack you over the head with her lute. 

[multiplefandomwritings]

How to be a child

pairing: reader x the grid (platonically), Pierre Gasly x reader

warnings: swearing, description of injuries/bruises, throwing up, passing out, unconsciousness, mentioning of hospital, mentioning of crash, angst

summary: You were the mum of the grid, you always had been. Until it one day it all just gets too much, and you are in desperate need of support. Suddenly 19 boys collectively become your mum, and you need to once again learn how to be a child.

notes: i am so, sorry for the wait. life has been terrible for the me the past months, but here it finally is: part two! as a small compensation, it is very long, and i hope you will like it! feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests! you can find the first part here. a third part will follow at some point, so let me know if you want to be tagged 😊 also, a question for everyone on the taglist: Would you like to be tagged in all of my F1 work, or just in this one?

disclaimer: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊

word count: 8.1k

taglist: @cilliansgirl @tyna-19 @hc-dutch @honethatty12 @sheslikeacurse @rb-danny @hc-dutch @hiphopdancer101universe @teddyluvs @dan3avocado @stillbreathin @mellowturtleangellamp @mcmuppet @shqwqrma @alice07ea @ricsaigaslec @witchychicken @rockyhayzkid @sheluvsf1 @hiddleslovs @laurevdd @caosfanblr @dessxoxsworld @fryskje @stickygladitorbear @goldenharrysworld @mehrmonga @anon-1112 @abcdefghijklmopqrstuvwxyzz @yunoguns @jaydenhateslife @itsandreaca @tsukishimawhore @formula-hamilton @cfjkdyihjkdd @whodis-26 @basicallyherondale @wtrmlnsgr94

“Shut up, you dumbass!”, whisper-yells a voice that sounds like Charles to you. “Or do you want the nurse to realize that we are way more people in here than allowed?” Several people shush at the same time, and you are utterly confused. You slowly open your eyes and catch sight of almost the whole grid cramped into the room. They are bickering with each other, and you cannot help but smile. “Hey guys!”, you croak out and your voice sounds hoarse. Immediately, they all stop talking and look at you. Pierre is the first to move and rushes over to your bed to take a hold of your hand.

“Finally, mon ange!”, he breathes out and you could’ve sworn that you can see tears welling up in his eyes. “What happened?”, you ask, still very much confused. You try to sit up, and immediately Max and Daniel rush to your side to assist you in your undertaking. When you are propped up, you look at your friends, who are standing around the bed – a hospital bed as you have realized by now. Pierre gently strokes your hand, and Lewis raises his voice to tell you what had happened.

After your collapsed in Pierre´s arms, and your friends and colleagues form a wall to shield you, Pierre gently picks you up and carries you out of the public eye and into Lando´s room. Everyone is close to panic, no one really knowing what had prompted you to pass out. The doctors, alerted by someone, rush in, and examine you. They cannot really find any reason, apart from the injuries in your face. They suspect that it might be something severe, so the whole grid is close to losing their mind. You are than a friend to most, rather part of their family. The called ambulance takes you with them, Pierre riding in the back with you.

When you arrive at the hospital, the doctors take you away from Pierre to examine you thoroughly, determined to find out what is wrong with you. It takes an hour, one more, and another. By now, the hallway of the floor you are on is filled with the other drivers. Everyone wanted to be there for you when you wake up. With every minute, the boys get more nervous, grow more worried. After four hours, the doctor comes out.

“We stabilized her. We assume that she suffered an acute exhaustion attack, caused by a lack of sleep and too much stress paired with a concussion. We expect her to sleep for a few days, but she was lucky. It could have been way worse. She will need to rest as much as possible once she wakes up to ensure that neither her brain nor her heart will suffer from long term consequences.”

The drivers are all shocked. You are still so young, and now this. They realise, all for themselves, that maybe they had demanded too much of you for too long. Guilt threatened to eat up them, more with every day you didn’t wake up for. Until three later, on a Wednesday, you finally wake up again.

You are quiet for a few minutes. Just when you are about to say something, the door opens and a nurse steps in. When she sees all the drivers, she rushes them out - all except one. Pierre doesn’t leave your side. He sits with you when the doctor comes in and tells you that you were lucky. He makes it very clear that you must take time for yourself to make sure that you would not suffer lasting effects. You nod, trying to understand everything he says.

“Would you mind leaving me alone for a minute, please?”, you ask. The doctor nods, while Pierre stays by your side. “You too, Pierre.” He looks at you, shocked for a minute, offended even. “Don’t send me away, y/n. You seem like you need someone with you right now.” “Just give me a fucking minute alone, Pierre!”, you snap at him, and he gets up and leaves without another word. You know that wasn’t fair, but your whole world just turned upside down. You will apologize later.

You clench your hands to fists; you feel like you are going to lose your shit. The feelings threaten to drown you, you are barely able to keep yourself over the water. You need to get out of here – you want to be everywhere but here. You lift yourself out of bed, determination flooding your system. When you stand up, you grind your teeth. Your whole body is almost shaking because just the act of getting up was so exhausting. You feel so very small, weak, and fragile. You take two, three slow steps, holding onto the hospital bed with every step. When you reach the end of the bed, you back another step forward, but without holding onto something, your body gives in. You crash to the ground; your body hits the floor with a loud thud.

Immediately, the door opens and Pierre storms in. He sees on you sitting on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, head buried in your hands. He rushes over to you and takes you in his arms. “I am so afraid, Pierre!”, you sob into his shoulder as he holds you. His heart breaks right there and then. You cry for what feels like hours, and when you are done, Pierre helps you onto the bed again. The doctors had allowed for you to leave the hospital in Brazil to be taken care of by your personal doctor in Monaco. However, much comes with that – your transport must be organized, you have to talk to the team, and all of that.

You are starting to panic, you feel so exhausted still, you have no idea how you would be able to manage all of that. “You don’t need to worry, ange. We are scheduled to fly out tonight in the private jet, everything around the transport is organized. Only Max, Daniel, Lando and I will join so that you can rest as much as possible. We will have to leave for the weekend, but I will promise you that we will be back as soon as possible.” You nod, overwhelmed that they cared so much for you. After one last check up, the doctor wishes you all the best and discharges you.

They provide you with a wheelchair because you are still weakened and every bone in your body hurts – even the ones you didn’t know you had. Pierre pushes you out of the hospital and towards the parking lot, where you can spot Daniel standing between an unfamiliar car. Usually, all of you drove fast and sporty cars, but this was a car you expected to see in a suburban neighbourhood where everyone had at least three kids.

“Nice ride!”, you say, and your voice is still hoarse. You are pretty sure that you look like shit, but the boys do not let on. They don’t look at you with pity and you are beyond grateful for that. “Thanks, we had to improvise a bit!” Daniel walks over to you and pulls you out of the wheelchair with ease, lifting you into his arms bridal style. He carries you over to the car, careful to not hurt you. However, his limb coordination when it comes to carrying people apparently isn’t the best. You close your eyes when you see the car door frame coming closer, but instead of bumping into the hard metal, your head is met with a soft surface. You open your eyes and see Lando smiling at you. The boy had put his hand over the door frame, softening the impact. Your eyes almost start to water at the sweet gesture.

Once you are seated, Pierre climbs into the back with you and helps you to put your seatbelt on before he settles himself in. Lando sits in the back as well. Max is the passenger princess. Daniel is starting the car, and you watch Max still without his seatbelt on. Before, you can say something, Pierre turns to Max. “Put your fucking seatbelt on!”, he says and a small smile appears on your face. You don’t really catch more of the chatting, as just the way to the car exhausted you completely and you opt for some sleep. Pierre´s shoulder functions as your cushion, and it is quite comfortable, at least for this purpose. Already almost in slumber you only subconsciously realize that someone puts a blanket over you. You snuggle closer into Pierre and fall into a deep and dreamless slumber.

You wake when someone unbuckles your seatbelt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you!”, Pierre apologizes, but you wave it off. “I think I have slept enough the past days”, you joke half-heartedly, and he gives you a tiny smile. Only now in this close proximity, you can see the dark bags under his eyes, the worry on his face. He looks five years older, beard unshaved, little stubbles growing in a disorganized way. “I am sorry for causing you so much worry”, you whisper barely audible, but he hears you, like he always does. He shakes his head. “Mon ange, no. None of this is your fault, if anything, it is ours.” You are just about to ask what he means when Daniel interrupts the two of you.

“We should get going!”, he says, and Pierre helps you out of the car. He carries you the last few meters to the jet, and places you down on one of the seats. Before you can engage in a conversation with him, Lando joins you on the seat next to you and slams a big bag on the table. “Y/n, I hope you are hungry!” You focus your attention on him and just now realize how hungry you are. “Starving, actually!” Lando smacks his lips and starts unpacking the bag. “Well, in that case, good for you, because I come prepared!” There is everything you could ask for – snacks, fruits, sandwiches. You decide to start with an apple, which Lando insists on cutting into small pieces for you. “Lando!”, you laugh, “I am not a child!” He grins. “Well, y/n, you need care and nursing and love now, so we all have decided to you are no longer our mum, you are now our child!” You flip him off playfully and continue to eat your apple pieces quietly while Lando talks your ear off, which you honestly do not mind. It distracts you from all the negative thoughts.

After a few hours, Daniel, Lando and Max are asleep. You are quite awake on the other hand and the soft shine of a display coming from Pierre´s seat indicates that he as well is awake. You carefully walk over to him, holding onto the seats. It takes all of your strength to make the few meters, but you manage and fall into the seat next to the Frenchman. He looks up from his phone and gifts you a smile. “Hey”, you say softly, “You okay?” Pierre shakes his head but continues to smile. “You are unbelievable, y/n! You are the one that was in the hospital the last days, not me.” “I can still worry about you guys though, no?”, you grin crookedly, but Pierre is still very serious. “Of course, but the important thing now is that you need to get better, and to do that, you need to learn to say no, and you need to learn to listen to yourself.” You want to interrupt him, but he doesn’t let you. “But most importantly, we – me and the others – need to learn to get our own shit together, and not always bother you!”

You can feel that he is a bit angry, so you gently place your hand on his biceps. “Pierre, you never bothered me. It was just a bit too much the past weeks! Everything will be fine, in fact, everything is fine.” Pierre shakes his head at you, you can feel that he is still upset. “No, nothing is fine. The last days were absolutely horrible, y/n. I was so afraid; I don’t think I have ever been this afraid. I couldn’t sleep because I was afraid that I would wake up and someone was going to tell me that you died. It was a nightmare, I don’t ever want to feel that again – so I am begging you, please take all the time you need to rest and heal. I cannot lose you.” You are a taken aback by his words. “I will, I promise!”, you say, and Pierre pulls you onto his lap and into a tight hug. He doesn’t let go for a while, and you don’t mind. It keeps you from falling apart.

You land a few hours later, you before you can protest, Lando lifts you out of your seat. “My turn!”, he laughs, and you decide to not pick a fight. “Yeah, it’s cool”, you say and playfully roll your eyes, “Just pick me up whenever.” Lando makes a sad face, and you can sense that he feels bad. “I am sorry”, he utters, “I should have at least asked if it was okay for me to pick you up!” You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, its not like a have a choice. I can´t exactly walk away”, you joke. You know it is a bad joke, and maybe it was too early to joke about it. For a moment, it is quiet, but then Daniel lets out a little snort. He tries his best to keep in a laugh, but when Max looks at him, he cannot help himself and bursts out laughing. The Dutchman joins him, so do you, and in a matter of seconds, Pierre and Lando are laughing as well. It takes you a while to calm down, because all of you just really needed to laugh off the shock of the past days.

Lando carries you down and into the car. Charles had offered to pick you up and drive you to your apartment, joined by Pierre. “Hey Charles!”, you greet the man and move over to give him an uncomfortable hug over the middle console. He doesn’t seem to mind, however. “You don’t know how good it is to see you, y/n!” You smile at him after you pull away, and he starts the car as soon as Pierre has settled in as well. A bit later, you arrive by your apartment building. Pierre gets out the wheelchair, and helps you to climb in. It is still new for you, and you hope that you will get rid of it soon. It makes you feel utterly helpless, but just the few steps in the plane earlier were hard and exhausting. For a moment, the thought that you might never be able to race again crosses your mind, but you push it away violently. So far, you had achieved everything in your life that you had set your mind to, and you sure as hell will not let anything stop you now.

It feels good to be back in your own space. You exhale deeply and you immediately start to feel a bit better. The familiar surrounding eases your negative thoughts, and you find yourself calming down. “Alright”, says Charles, “I will get going and get the crutches from the doctor, and get groceries, then I will be back!” Before you can say something, he is out of the door. “The doctors in Brazil contacted your doctor here to consult and discuss next steps.” You nod, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Pierre tells you bit more about the topic, but you can’t really focus your attention. At some point, you let out a big yawn. Pierre chuckles. “Seems like someone is tired!” “Exhausted”, you tell him, and he gives you an understanding nod. “How about you take a nap?”, he offers. “Sounds super!”

He helps you into your room, where you quickly change into some shorts and a shirt. After you are done, Pierre enters the room with a glass of water in his hand. “I know that you like to keep a glass of water next to your bed, so I figured I would bring you one!” “How do you know?”, you question. He shrugs his shoulders. “You mentioned it one day…” “Thank you!” He smiles at you, puts the glass down and grabs the blanket. He throws it over you and gently tugs you in. “Sleep well, mon ange!”, he says but you are already sound asleep.

The next week is exhausting, more mentally than physically. You are able to leave the wheelchair rather quickly, but you still the need the crutches for support. Despite the fact that you weren’t really injured, at least not in the traditional sense, your body was still weak. You just cannot really rely on it right now, so the crutches are there to support and help you. You are just happy that you are out of the wheelchair and that you have a tiny bit of your independency back. What helps even more however, is the constant support of your friends. They cannot be with you right now, as there are still two more races for them to finish. Your doctor appointments keep you occupied, your family visits and helps you with whatever you need. Your friends call you, sometimes just to tell you minor things but it helps. You don’t feel isolated, and you cheer on them from your living room. Right now, it feels okay to not be on track – you feel like you are going to be okay.

The season ends in the end of November. Winter has Monaco in its grip, the first snow falls. Everything looks so pretty that you cannot really feel down. On top of that you love Christmas, and you keep yourself busy with present shopping, at least until you have to get ready to leave for England. It is a Tuesday, and you had just been at the doctor’s office. While your doctor is sure that you will fully recover, he also gives you a real perspective on things. The possibility is there that you can race next season, but the cost could potentially be high. He tells you to consider your options. Lando picks you up from this appointment and together you drive to the airport. The two of you were scheduled to fly to the McLaren headquarters for a week to discuss the next possible steps. The flight goes over quick, you are unusually quiet – and Lando just lets you be. He can sense that you need the time, so he gives it to you.

When you step out of the airport, Zak waits for there for you personally. The older man pulls you in a tight hug, it had been a while since he had seen you in person. “Good to see you, kid!”, he tells you with a fatherly tone in his voice. You grin at him, happy to see him. You climb into the car and Zak drives you to his home, to have dinner with his family. You quite enjoy it, but you feel yourself get tired after a while. Lando notices and decides to call a taxi for the both of you to drive to the hotel.

You share a suite, in case something was to happen during the night, but you sleep well. After a nice breakfast, you are getting picked up for the headquarters and inside you are feeling very nervous. You are good at hiding it, but you fiddle with your fingers. Lando takes one of your hands and gently squeezes it. Only now that you are not good on foot you realize how big the McLaren compound really is.

The core team meets in a room close to the entrance for your sake. They are all beyond happy to see you, everyone is relieved that you are on your feet again, at least partly. It is not many people, as you agreed with Zak to discuss the next steps in a small team before you met with everyone. After exchanging some courtesies, it is time for you to tell them of your decision. You take a deep breath and Lando once again squeezes your hand. No one knows what you are going to tell them, and you don’t really know how to tell them. You decide it is best to rip the band aid of fast.

“After consulting with my doctor yesterday, I think it is best if I resign for indeterminate time, until I am fully recovered.” The room is eerily quiet, everyone is a bit shocked. “While I could possibly sit myself into the car next season, I would not be able to give you guys the results you deserve. Trust me, this is not what I wanted, but if I race next season, the possibility of lasting health issues is very likely, and I do not believe that some half-assed results are worth that. I want to apologize –“ “Don’t!”, Zak interrupts you, “We have all developed a soft spot for you in our hearts, and we were all shocked when we heard what the doctors in Brazil said. Your health comes first. While we are deeply saddened about you resigning for indeterminate time, I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we would like to keep you around one way or the other.” You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. On the one side because they were so supportive, on the other side because you stating your resignation makes it a lot more real.

Now it is official – at least within your team – that you will not start next season. It feels a bit like your world is ending, your goals are out of your reach. You feel hopeless, and like you are – quite frankly – an absolute loser. Self-doubts threaten to eat you up, you want to curl up in a ball and just stop existing for a while. You spent the rest of the meeting lost in your thoughts, and the next days go by in a blur. You visit the headquarter many more times that week, talking to the team, discussing the best way to communicate your indeterminate resignation. You call Pierre a lot, telling him about everything. He deserves to know from you, so do all of your other friends. You cry a lot those days, Lando never quite leaving your side. He is there for you, so is everyone else. Yet you find yourself withdrawing yourself from almost everyone except Pierre. You call him daily, sometimes more than once. Many times, he has to listen to you softly sobbing into the phone, and it breaks his heart. But he never blames you, he always listens, he always comforts you.

After an exhausting week, there is only one more thing to do – film your resignation video. You cry during the video too, but you don’t mind – you love your fans, and they deserve to know the truth and witness your real feelings about your resignation. In the end, the video is 10 minutes long – you explain your reasons, you promise that you will be back. And you mean that. Somehow, you have found your fighting spirit once again. The video ends with a collage of your best moments in F1. A tribute to your achievements so far, but you are now certain there will be more eventually. You will put all the work in necessary so that you would heal properly, and that you would be able to sit in the car next year.

You fly back to Monaco alone – Lando would have come with you, but you told him to stay home with his family for a bit. He drove you to the airport and saw that you get to the plane just fine. When you land, Lewis and Valtteri are already there to welcome you back. They are kind and gentle and brotherly, and your soul heals a bit when they take you to lunch that day. They don’t make you feel like a loser anymore, they tell you that they are proud of you for making this hard decision. The three of you share things that you have never spoken about before, and it helps. The sun is shining on a white Monaco and your heart becomes full and hopeful. You are still weak and exhausted, and when they take you home you are more than ready to sleep, but it is different.

The next week is a busy week once again. You visit your doctor and your personal trainer a lot, discussing measures to help you healing, and setting up a slow training program that would help keep you in shape, while not overburdening your body. You still call Pierre every day to talk to him. He is with his family in France for Christmas, and he has invited you to join him. You tell him you will once you feel better. He understands, like he always does. He makes you laugh with his joke, and he tells you he misses you. You miss him, and when he drops one of his compliments, it is somehow different now. Your cheeks heat up sometimes, and your heart skips a beat.

Christmas is nice, and special. You are home, and for once you have nothing to do – no real training, only little exercises. No media duties, and you enjoy the time with your family. After New Year’s, you travel back to home to Monaco to rest and heal. The boys are all there for you – for whatever you need. They ask you how you are all the time, and they help you where they can. It is the little things, really, and one day you feel particularly bad about it. You cannot really give them anything back at the moment, and you feel like you are using them. You wake up with those feelings that they, and to distract yourself from them, you go on Instagram. Scrolling through your feed, you occasionally send them funny videos. It was the least you could do. After an hour or so, you lift yourself out of the bed, finally. You are very hungry, and you think about ordering something, when suddenly your doorbell rings. You need some time to reach it, walking slowly with your crutches, and when you open it, Daniel stands there in front of you. “You send me the first Reel on Instagram like one hour ago, so I figured you are hungry by now. I brought groceries and I am here to cook for you!” “I… You shouldn’t have!”, you try to argue, but Daniel already moves past you and into your kitchen. You follow him slowly.

When you see that he is already collecting dishes to prepare breakfast, you just sigh. He picks up the defeated sound and perks up, smiling at you. His face falls when he sees the way you look at him, like you are almost crying. “Hey hon, what´s up?”, he asks you. “I just… I feel so bad about all of this. I feel like I am using all of you, and like I am not giving anything back!” Daniel shakes is head violently, and he comes over to pull you in a hug. You almost disappear in it, and he draws soothing circles on your back. “Y/n, don’t ever say or think something like that again. You have almost given your life for us, and this is what friends are here for. We help each other when we can – sometimes one or the other does give a bit more. It equals out in the end. Besides, you still listen to all of us rambling, and you still give the best advice!” He pulls away and a tiny smile is on your face now. He ruffles your hair and before you can protest, he is back in the kitchen. “Now, go rest your ass on the couch, mate!”, he says, and you cannot help but laugh when you limp over to the living room.

Breakfast is nice, and Daniel makes you laugh with his stupid jokes. It is good to feel like this. You know that right now was the easy part – your friends are here, and they all have time for you. But you are afraid of what is coming after the winter break – when they are all gone, and you won’t be able to be with them doing the things you love the most. It will most likely break your heart, but you try not to think about it, at least not now.

It is a few weeks later, the next season will start soon. You have picked up training again, very slowly. It mainly consisted off walking on the treadmill, holding onto the sides. A few easy exercises that keep your body mobile and flexible and your muscles occupied. Spring is blooming in Monaco; the first sun is shining. Everything is going well. Well, almost everything. Right now, you are beyond embarrassed.

You had felt better today, so you had taken the taxi down to your favourite park to enjoy some time there. It had been late afternoon already, you had walked around a bit and sat down in a small restaurant to eat dinner. Now, it is later than expected, it was dark, getting colder by the minute, and you are beyond exhausted. Furthermore, the crippling feeling in your legs leaves you to panic, which is why you – against all rationality – do not call a taxi. Instead, you call Max, who picks up almost immediately. “Can you pick me up, Maxie?”, you choke out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Send me your location!”, he says, and you can hear that he already picks up his keys. You nod, even though he cannot see that, and send him your location with shaky fingers. Max is there just ten minutes later to collect you. As soon as you see him, the tears really start to flow. He wraps his arms around you, his sweatshirt is collecting your tears, and he whispers encouragements while he gently strokes your hair. After a few minutes, you calm down and he helps you to his car.

He holds open the passenger door for you, and you climb in, almost falling because your legs are giving out under you. But Max is there, he catches you, and helps you. He closes the door behind you and gets in on his side. “You okay?”, he asks. You nod, using the sleeves of your sweatshirt to wipe away the leftovers of your tears. Max starts the car and drives through the dark streets of Monaco. You don’t know where he is going until he stops at the drive through of a Fast-Food restaurant. “I figured the occasion called for ice cream or a milkshake”, he tells you when you he sees your questioning expression. A tiny smile creeps onto your face. Max orders you a milkshake and gives it to you. You hold it in two hands like a child and Max cannot help but laugh. You pout a little, but ultimately smile when he takes a picture of you holding the cup in your hand.

He drives you to your place and helps you up to your apartment. Reaching the door, he stops for a moment and thinks. “Would you like some company tonight?” For a moment you think about telling him to go home, because you don’t want to trouble him any further. But being alone tonight sounds terrible, so you push down the unnecessary feeling of guilt and nod. He steps into the apartment with you and helps you take of your jacket. Together, the two of you settle in on the couch and put on a movie. You feel your eyes get heavy, but before you can tell Max that he might as well go home as you are about to fall asleep, you slip into slumber.

The next morning, you wake up in your bed. You stretch and roll over to your phone. A text from Max. “Don’t get scared when you wake up, I am sleeping on the couch.” You smile to yourself and get up. Max is still asleep, so you climb into the shower. Once you are done and dressed, you make your way into the kitchen to make breakfast. Already in the hallway, you hear voices. You are confused – you know that Max is here, but who else? Stepping into the kitchen, your eyes fall on Pierre. Immediately, a big smile appears on your face. “Pierre!”, you exclaim happily and his face lights up once his eyes fall on you. He rushed over and wraps you in a tight hug. What you don’t see is the wiggling eyebrows Max aims at Pierre. Pierre just rolls his eyes and then closes them to take in your scent for a moment. Soon after, you break the hug, but Pierre stays close, his arm loosely wrapped around your hips.

Max excuses himself shortly after, as he has an appointment. You bit him goodbye, and when the door falls close, you turn around to Pierre. “Why are you here already?”, you ask him, and he flashes you a cheeky grin. “Not happy to see me?” You shake your head but laugh. “I am more than happy to see you, Pierre! I was just thought you would arrive in two days.” “Well,”, he says and wraps you in another hug, “I really wanted to see you!” You are happy that your face is buried in his chest because a blush creeps on your cheeks.

Pierre pulls back a little and looks at you. “Are you feeling better today?”, he asks with genuine concern. You nod, “Yeah, thanks to Max. He picked me up last night and stayed over to make sure I was okay.” “Max told me what happened. Please, ange, you need to be careful. I know it is hard to be confined in this space and not being as independent as you used to be, but you need to watch out for your health.” You sigh, but nod. “I know. I am just really tired off this, and I want to experience things again. I am afraid that I won’t ever be able to get into the car again…” Pierre nods understandingly. “I get that. But the more you rest and listen to your body, the sooner you will be fully healed.” “Yeah, you are right. I –“, you want to say something more, but suddenly, your stomach growls.

Pierre laughs and you grin, a bit embarrassed. “I think you need some food!”, Pierre says. “Yeah, I am starving!” The two of you make your way into the kitchen and just now you see the huge bouquet of flowers on your kitchen counter. “Wow, these are beautiful”, you exclaim, “Thank you Pierre!” He smiles and waves it off. “It´s nothing”, he says, but for you, it is everything. Pierre pulls out one of your pans, and as you are about to help him, he shoots you a glare. You lift your hands up in mock defence and make your way into the living room. You get your laptop from the couch and sit down on the dining table, as you have some things to finish up. Just because you were not a driver anymore, that didn’t mean that you had nothing to do. Especially now that the winter break slowly came to an end – you had agreed with McLaren that you would be involved in their Social Media activity. It had been Lando´s idea, and you are really grateful for it.

While you couldn’t start on the grid next season, you also didn’t want to entirely leave the F1 world. You are not yet sure if that is a good decision, to be involved but not driving, but you would have to wait and see. Pierre joins you a bit later with some breakfast, and you are beyond happy to finally have him with you again. The two of you will spend some time in Monaco together, before the new season started.

You make the most out of that time. Some days you just sleep in, you in your bed and Pierre in the guest bedroom, and then you would have a long breakfast, you would take a little walk, talked with the fans. He helps you with your exercises, he is a gentle trainer, yet he inspires you to go a tiny, tiny step forward every day. He massages your muscles when they are tired, he applies the lotion your doctor prescribed you. He takes you out for lunch or dinner, he goes shopping with you if that is what you desire. He finds the best clothes for you, you feel pretty in them, you feel worth it in them. He makes you feel safe and protected and if you knew better you would say that he makes you feel loved, but you don’t talk about that. Right now, it is not the time for it, and you both just enjoy what you have for now. The lingering touches, the way the two of you gravitated towards each other. He takes good care of you, and he never gives you the feeling of being a burden, even if you need help with silly little things. Like when your arms and hands are so tired that you cannot take off your own socks. He never makes you feel like you have to be embarrassed about any of those things and it helps.

The break ends soon after these great moments and you hold up quite well. Saying goodbye to Pierre is hard, and you cry. He holds you and presses a kiss on your forehead and tell you that you can always call him. But it will be different, there will be the time difference and he will be busy, and you will be not. He still makes sure to call you whenever, and it works good somehow. Maybe it is because summer comes to Monaco and your friends visit you whenever you can. You train, you take it easy, you rest, and you heal. Soon enough, you are able to go for jogs again, your training becomes longer and harder and you seem to be on the right way. By the summer break, you feel stronger already, and life is rather normal again. You still feel exhausted some days and you are not where you used to be. But you were okay with that.

The sun lifts your mood up, even on the days you don’t manage to run very far. You still go out these days, just go get the kilometres down, to keep your body moving. Summer break comes, and with that the boys are back in town. They spend most of their free time with you, and you are beyond grateful for that. It means the world to you, that they come and visit. Pierre spends a lot of time in Monaco with you as well. You take it easy, enjoying the time together. Just like over winter break, he takes you out a lot. You go and see museums, concerts, whatever there is to do. Some days are exciting, others are slow and relaxing. You take naps on the day bed on your balcony, enjoying the warm summer sun. Your head often rests on Pierre´s lap, or you are cuddled up in his arms during those naps. Still, you don’t talk about it, it is all very natural, your relationship growing stronger every minute you spend together. However, labelling it is not your priority right now, it is still your healing journey.

The two of you also spend lot of time together with the other drivers. Like today for example. Currently, you are laying in the warm sun on the deck of Charles yacht. The boys are bickering about something, while you are reading. You had just left the harbour a few minutes ago, and the boys already distracted you from your book. You cannot help but smile though, you had missed this. It was almost like you were still part of the driver line-up, and you feel relieved that nothing has really changed. They are all still the same adorable dorks they used to be. Some time later, Charles stops the yacht in the middle of the sea. By now you are sweating and very warm, so you are the first person to take the leap of the deck into the ocean.

It is not really a problem; you feel good today. The guys follow soon after, and you start to joke around, splash each other with water, dunking each other under. You have so much fun that you don’t really listen to your body. You splash and dunk and swim around. Pierre watches you closely, like he always does. When you climb up the ladder, he is relieved that you choose to take a break, so he follows. You, however, have other plans. You are about to get ready to jump off the boat another time, when Pierre stops you. “You sure about that, do you not rather want to take a break?” You grin at him with the objective to calm him down. “I feel fine, Pierre!” He nods. “Just be careful, okay?” “Of course!”

You feel your mistake when you start to run to jump off the deck. Your legs are suddenly very, very heavy. You cannot stop anymore however, and before you realize, you are in the air. The force of impact on the surface of the water knocks the breath out of your lungs, your entire body suddenly feels heavy – almost too heavy for you to swim towards the surface. It takes you long to emerge from the water, too long. The others realize when you don’t come up immediately. Charles starts to swim towards you. A splash rips you from your apathy and you swim towards the surface with heavy arms. You emerge coughing and one second later Pierre is right next to you. He helps you to hold yourself over water, and soon, Charles is by your side as well. You are embarrassed, but they don’t let on how scared they really were. Pierre helps you up the stairs and you sit down in one of the seating areas. Pierre brings you a towel and wraps you in it. When the towel is around you, he doesn’t let go. “I am sorry!”, you whisper, “I should have listened to you.” Pierre shakes his head. “Don’t worry, just don’t scare me like that again.” “I won´t!”, you promise and snuggle closer into Pierre. He holds you and you fall asleep soon after.

The rest of the summer break is spent similar. You hang out with Pierre and the guys, you go to France with Pierre, you visit your family, life is good. But then, the races start again, and fall comes to Monaco and with that the rain and the grey days. You are not able to go out of your apartment that much anymore, you are lacking energy and you feel like you are making steps back. Your training doesn’t go as smooch anymore, you feel like your comeback might be in jeopardy.

You are in a bad mood, there is no reason to sugar coat that. You are beyond miserable. The feeling that you will not return next season haunts you, and you are terrified of it. What if you will not manage to ever race again? You have never known something else; you have never learned something else. You feel like you are drowning, and your saving comes in form of a particular Frenchman. He knows that you had been able to go on runs again and that you did harder workouts again, he knows that you were on a way to get better. When your best friend calls him and tells him that you spent most of your days inside now not doing much, he doesn’t believe it at first.

He does, however, when you open the door and look like you haven’t changed out of your sweatpants in a week. You look messy, eyes puffy and tired features. He is scared to see you like this, so hopeless and so… He doesn’t know how to describe it, but you look so little, so tiny. You weren’t the tallest, but usually you carried yourself like you were the tallest in any room. Now, you are hunched over. For a moment he thinks you are going to close the door in his face, but you don’t. “Put your clothes on, we are going for a run!”, he tells you. You don’t protest verbally, but your attitude shows him enough. He doesn’t flinch though. He drags you out of the apartment – you still haven’t said a word. He takes your hand when you arrive downstairs, and he pulls you with him. A little “Pierre, I can´t!” leaves your mouth, but he pretends that he doesn’t hear it. And, after the first meters, you seem to shake off the paralysis that had a tight grip on you the past week.

Your breath is steady, and you are keeping up well with him. It starts to rain, the trail becomes wet, and you slip at some point. You fall, and this little happening seems to make you fall apart. You stay on the ground, and you don’t grab Pierre´s hand when he reaches out. At first, he doesn’t realize but then he sees that you are crying, and he doesn’t care about his outfit – he drops to his knees next to you and hugs you. You want to turn away from him, you feel so fucking weak and pathetic, and he sees you in that state. It embarrasses you; it makes you angry. You want to push him away, you struggle a bit against his grip, but Pierre doesn't let go of you.

“Why am I so weak?”, you cry softly in his shirt, but Pierre hears you. “You are not weak, mon ange”, he whispers. He pulls you a bit closer, like he is afraid that the rain will wash and carry you away. “You are the strongest person I know. I know that life is hard at the moment, and I cannot imagine how you are feeling. But you will get there, I know that!” “I feel like I am the absolute worst version of myself right now, and I just don’t see myself driving next year, but… But that´s all I have ever known, it´s all I have ever wanted!” Pierre still holds you close. The rain is coming down harder now, and you are getting soaked to the skin. You don’t care, it doesn’t matter to you. “If I know anything, I know that you will come back stronger next than ever next year!” “Why do you keep on believing in me, Pierre?”

“You might see yourself as the worst version of yourself right now, but I think you are the strongest, the fiercest version of yourself right now.” For a moment, Pierre falls silent. He takes a deep breathe before he whispers the words into your ear, as if he is afraid that they will be washed away by the rain when he speaks up or speaks them further away from you. “And I believe in you because it is the only thing that keeps me sane. I cannot even begin to think about the fact that you might not ever race again, because it would affect my life in so many ways. It might be selfish, but I would not get to see you as much anymore, and the thought of that is terrible to me. I want to be able to come out of the garage and walk over to hug you. I want to hear your laugh sound all over the paddock because someone cracked a joke. And, most importantly, I believe in you because I am completely and helplessly in love with you.”

You need a moment to take that information in, understanding what he just told you. “You don’t need to say anything, I –“, you stop him by pulling out of his hug and taking your face in both of your hands. The position is not really comfortable, but you don´t care. You press your cold lips against his and kiss him. He kisses you back, and you can feel his warmth seeping into your bones. The rain is still coming down hard, but all you can feel is Pierre's arms around you, and it feels like you have found a lifeline, like you have a new purpose to fight and return stronger than before.

[rad-roche]

Pulp Covers And How To Paint Them

With the rise of cheap printing in the early twentieth century, mass-marked paperbacks swept the world, each offering lurid thrills for obscenely low prices. Sex, sadism, and incredible violence for as little as ten cents. An easy purchase to slot in between fifty cigarettes a day and enough bourbon slugs to kill a small garden.

Pulp fiction is where some of the greats of American literature cut their teeth, including the big three, Raymond Chandler, Ross MacDonald and Dashiell Hammett. The contents of these stories, both the dizzyingly good and astoundingly terrible, have been absorbed and digested and remixed and regurgitated in nearly every permutation imaginable, fuelling pop culture some one hundred years on. This isn't an essay on that. Nobody likes to open a tutorial and be greeted with a wall of text. The history is for another time.

But it is about how to paint it.

Don't let the pre-amble intimidate you, it's not as hard as it sounds. You will need:

Painting software with some image editing capabilities. You don't need all the bells and whistles of Photoshop, but I wouldn't recommend something like MSPaint, at least not to start with. I'm using Clip Studio Paint.

A really beat-up paper texture. The grungier, the better.

A lightly-textured brush. Here are the specific brushes I use, 99% of which is the well-named rough brush. Try and avoid anything with any impasto elements.

Go to your colour-picking tool and use the 'select from layer' option. Doing all the painting on a single layer is going to make your life easier.

A complete willingness to make mistakes and, instead of erasing, painting over them. It generates much more colour variation and interest! Keep your finger off the E key.

Good reference! That painting is a master copy of Mitchel Hooks' art for Day of the Ram. Find a style you really love and want to learn? Have no clue where to begin? Do direct studies!

Let's not worry about whatever is happening in the background. It's probably fine. Let's get started! Pulp magazine art is a lot more varied than you might first think, so don't agonize over having a style that 'fits' or not. I'm also specifically aiming for something you'd see on the cover after printing, not the initial painting they would use for printing. The stuff I'll show here is a pretty narrow band of it, but here are some general commonalities. This is a painting by Tom Lovell.

Let's dig into this.

The colours are very bright and saturated, but the actual values, the relative lightness and darkness of them, are actually grouped very simply! You can check this by filling a layer full of black, putting it on top and setting its mode to colour. If the value of a painting looks good, you actually get a lot of leeway with colour. But here's what I think is the most important thing to keep in mind.

The darks aren't that dark, and the lights aren't all that light! Covers are paintings reproduced on cheap paper. Anything you wouldn't want to happen in the printing process, you lean into. Value wash-outs, lower contrast, colours getting a weird wash to them, really gritty texturing. So let's get painting! Here's my typical setup.

That bottom folder is the painting itself. The screen layer is the grungy paper texture. To get the effect you want, put it down, invert its colour, then set it to screen. That washes out your painting far, far too much, so to compensate, I put a contrast layer up on top. Fiddle around with the settings, but this is where mine ended up sitting.

Note I'm saying this before even starting the painting: you want to do this as early as possible. This is where the 'select from layer' colour picker comes in handy. You can paint without worrying about the screen or contrast layer. Something not looking right? Enable your value check layer and keep painting. When you turn it off, it'll still be in colour. Here's a timelapse so you can see what that looks like.

And when you check the values...

They're pretty simple! This isn't a be all and end all, but I hope it serves as a decent primer. I want thirty dames on my desk by Monday!

[zepskies]

Strong as Blood - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

AN: This two-part fic can be read as stand-alone, but it’s really a bonus sequel to Break Me Down!

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, fluff, and a smutty ending. 

To find the chronological reading order for the series, check out the series masterlist. ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down

Part 1: “Probably Temporary”

Make no mistake. Ben was still a terrible cook.

He’d sort of gotten the hang of the grill though, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to be smoking meat on the apartment’s second-floor balcony. 

You peeked out at your boyfriend through the sliding glass door to make sure he was still doing okay. He caught you though, and shot you a wink.

He was very proud of his grill. 

We’re so gonna get in trouble with the homeowner’s association, you thought, but you couldn’t help a smile. You obliged him when he beckoned you over, and you slid the door open. 

“Almost done? I think our neighbors are going to complain again,” you said with a laugh. Ben rolled his eyes.

“It’s a bit of smoke, not a fucking forest fire,” he groused. “Let those uppity fucks complain. Bet’cha they won’t have the balls to say shit to my face if I go across the street for a little visit.” 

You soothed him with a hand along his shoulder. It also gave you an excuse to check on his progress. You considered this episode to be a success, considering the balcony wasn’t up in flames this time. And the steaks actually looked good. Not brittle pieces of charcoal, but not raw and bleeding either.  

“I think those are done,” you advised. Ben followed your gaze and nodded. He used his bare hands to turn the foil-wrapped potatoes, just because he could. 

“Why don’t you take ‘em in while I finish up these potatoes,” he said. “How’s the rest coming?”

“Good. I’m about to take the casserole out of the oven,” you said with a nod. Meanwhile, he placed the steaks in a glass dish that been sitting near the open grill. He handed it to you, but you almost dropped the steaks when the hot glass burned your hands. 

You hissed in pain, while Ben caught the dish with both hands. His brows furrowed, first in surprise, then in thinly veiled concern when he looked over at you. He reached out for your shoulder. 

“Damn,” he said. “Didn’t seem that hot…you okay?”

You looked up from your stinging hands and sighed at him in exasperation, but you couldn’t get that mad at him. He sometimes couldn’t gauge things like this when it came to what he could handle, versus what your normal human body could. 

“Yeah. I’ll just break out the aloe. First, let me get some oven mitts,” you replied, but your answering smile retained some good humor. Ben quirked an apologetic smile of his own. He decided to follow you into the kitchen, taking the steaks in himself. 

You grabbed your favorite green oven mitts and carefully took out the veggie casserole. It smelled delicious, but Ben still peered at it over your shoulder when you placed it on the counter. 

“Don’t you look at my casserole sideways,” you quipped. “You need to eat more veggies.”

He leveled you with a dry look. “You saying I’m getting out of shape?”

“God forbid,” you gasped, playfully jabbing at his firm abs with a mitt-covered hand. “I’m just saying, your super metabolism is compensating for a lot of booze and Taco Bell.”

Ben rose a brow at your cheekiness. He drew closer behind you, trapping you against the counter with one hand braced on the edge, and the other sliding up your jean-clad hip. 

“You’ve got some nerve. I don’t talk shit about the stash of Twix bars in your nightstand, do I?” he remarked. He nipped at your ear, making you flinch and giggle. His beard was also tickling your neck. 

“You’re peeping in my nightstand now? How dare you,” you teased. He snorted in response. 

“Please. Your purple vibrator isn’t exactly a fucking mystery to me,” he retorted. You felt his smirk growing against your neck. “Might wanna keep it away from the chocolate though. That could get messy…unless you want it to be.” 

Your body shook with the effort of containing your laughter. He was so fucking gross.

“Don’t you need to check on the potatoes?” you asked. “I don’t want to have to pressure wash the balcony again.”

Ben made a sound of agreement, but was sure to swat you on the ass before he went. You jolted, but you just shook your head with a blush and a smile. 

It had been over a year since you and Ben had moved in together. Already you’d had your first fight as a true couple, your first Christmas, and so many other challenges, large and small, that had all come to solidify one thing for you.

You were happy. Maybe for the first time in your life. 

It just came with some…small caveats, you reflected, as you reached into the fridge to find the jar of aloe vera. Before you slathered some onto your hands, you realized they were no longer red, and they didn’t even sting anymore.

“What the hell?” you muttered. You put back the jar and rested a hand on your hip. 

Well, maybe you hadn’t burned yourself as bad as you thought. 

With that oddity still in your mind, you pulled on your oven mitts again and took up the casserole with the intention of bringing it to the dining table. Admittedly, you were a bit distracted. You didn’t remember about the raised ledge in the doorway to the dining room until it was too late.

You tripped, and though you managed to make it to the table, you gasped when you broke right through the wood. 

The table just seemed to give up when you hit it, cracking in half, and sending you tumbling to the floor with hot casserole heaped on top. You were still stunned when Ben tore back inside. His green eyes were wide, his brows furrowed as he took in the state of you on the floor with the broken table.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, though he bent down to help you up. He checked you for injuries, but both of you found nothing. 

“I’m okay,” you said, a bit shakily. “I tripped, that’s all.”

Ben’s brows raised as he looked from you to the shards of the table. He knocked on the wood surface. 

“Cheap piece of shit. Where’d you get this thing?” he asked. 

You flickered at a smile and admitted, “IKEA.”

Ben shook his head. “We really need to broaden your palate.”

You insisted you were all right. But he insisted, without words, on checking you over again. His hands brushed down your shoulders and arms, your hands and neck.

He held your face in his hands, and he let out a deep sigh. You just smiled up at him, though inside, you were hiding a bit of worry yourself. 

That table hadn’t been cheap. It was solid pine wood. 

But Ben seemed to believe you. He also seemed a bit exasperated. 

“I should just layer you up in goddamn bubble wrap. The way you find ways to break yourself is beyond me,” he muttered. Your lips pursed. 

“I resent that—”

“I’m sure you fucking do.”

“Besides,” you said, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth. “What a pain in the ass would it be to unwrap me?” 

Ben huffed, even as his hands traveled down to wrap around your waist and pull you in close. 

“True,” he smirked. “You’re already a pain in the ass as it is.” 

You opened your mouth to mount an indignant protest, but he shut you up the only surefire way he knew how. His kiss was swift, deep, and left you humming into his mouth in surprise. 

But you soon pulled back, brushing a thumb along his chin. “We’ve got to clean up this mess. And…did you get the potatoes?”

Ben thought for a moment, but then his mouth firmed into a line. 

“Shit,” he muttered, and released you to run back to the grill. 

That night, you stood barefooted in your nightgown and took a moment alone in the bathroom to breathe. And to think. And to test the strength in your hands, by bending one of Ben’s metal wrenches like it was a useless paper straw. 

Okay, now you were panicking a bit. 

What the fuck? you thought. You had only ever experienced super strength when you were on V24 (which you had not taken, let alone the permanent stuff). 

But…if you thought about it, there had been one other time when you had felt this strong. And it had been when you were in the hospital, almost two years ago, after Vought Tower collapsed. You’d needed a surgery you might not have lived through. It was Ben’s actions that had saved you…after he donated his blood.

Unless he was somehow giving you transfusions without you knowing, there was only one other possibility you could think of for Ben’s DNA to somehow be in your system…

Holy shit, you thought. And you sat down on the closed toilet. Hard. Enough to dislodge a decorative dish that was perched on a shelf behind you. You gasped, but weren’t able to catch it before it hit the ground loudly. You winced and picked it up, even as you heard Ben’s steps approaching the bathroom. 

“You okay?” he asked predictably, through the closed door.

“Fine!” you said, your voice too high. You cleared your throat and tried to normalize your voice. “I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Christ. You going for a record today?” he remarked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

A few minutes later, you finished in the bathroom and tried to act as normal as possible as you slid into bed next to your boyfriend. He was watching TV, but he glanced over at you. You knew he was silently assessing you, seeing if you were really okay. 

You gave him a smile and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. You attempted to be chaste, but he deepened it. He slid an arm around your waist and tilted his head, slipping his tongue between the seam of your lips. 

You welcomed him at first…but a tremor of warning flashed in your mind, along with the persistent thought that had followed you from the bathroom.

Should I tell him? 

You didn’t know why your inclination was to hold it in. There very well could be something wrong with you. But if your suspicions were true, then you wanted confirmation first. 

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked. He’d pulled back, sensing your distraction. You came back to yourself.

“Nothing, just tired,” you said, stroking his chest over his shirt. 

Ben looked into your eyes, his face more or less stoic. You saw the way he was trying to get a read on you though, like he didn’t quite believe you. You couldn’t blame him, but you could be very convincing when you needed to be.

He eventually nodded, letting you turn away from him to slip under the covers. Even though you felt the sting of your lie tingling unpleasantly down your spine. 

You met Dr. Tonya Baker at her office in the Supe Affairs building. She’d been Vought’s top scientist, up until last year. After Stan Edgar’s death and the company’s collapse, the CIA recruited Dr. Baker. 

You didn’t like her. Nor did you trust her, exactly, but she had assisted Dr. Vogelbaum when Becca Butcher came to him with a unique problem. Now, Dr. Baker was the only one left with the knowledge and resources to advise you.

And she was able to confirm your suspicions. She came back with lab results while you sat up on an examining table. 

“You’re eleven weeks pregnant,” she informed you. 

Even though you’d been somewhat expecting it, suspicion and knowing were very different things. You took in a shaking breath, and through your shock, you were smiling. Happy, and even relieved.

Until Dr. Baker spoke again. 

“The super strength is probably temporary. A side effect of the fetus’s genetics. But, it’s also advantageous for you,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “This makes it much more likely that you’ll survive the birth.”

Your breath ceased at that thought, not to mention her clinical delivery. 

“Always with that delightful bedside manner, Doctor,” you quipped. All of a sudden, you were feeling lightheaded. 

Or maybe you were just freaking the fuck out. 

When you got home that evening after work, Ben watched you. 

He knew something was off with you the second you walked through the door, pale and pensive. Still, you flashed him a greeting and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes on your way to the bedroom. 

So he followed you. And the fact that you didn’t even notice, even flinched when he dropped a hand on your shoulder, told him that you were more than just distracted. The last straw was when you walked into the dresser while glancing back at him. You hissed and shook out your sandle-clad foot. 

Now, you were injury prone at the best of times, but this was a bit much, Ben thought. 

“Geez, I didn’t even hear you,” you said, trying at a chuckle. “Normally you thud around in those combat boots like an elephant. We’re lucky no one lives below us—”

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked. He was never one to beat around the bush. 

Your eyes widened a fraction; unease crept down your spine, but you gave him a quirk of your brow. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You fucking heard me,” he said. His gaze was hunter green, serious, and focused down on you.

“I’m fine, Ben—”

“No,” he snapped. “There’s something off with you.” 

You bit your lower lip. It seemed your boyfriend knew you better than you thought. You’d had a plan though. You had wanted to wait until you had a moment to shake off your anxiety and focus on the good when you sat him down this evening.

But you should’ve known better. Ben was remarkably impatient, even when he didn’t know what he was in for. 

And he got tired of waiting for your answer. 

He changed tactics, reaching for your arms. His grip was firm, but gentle in brushing his thumbs back and forth across your skin. His mouth was in a line, and you caught the concern hiding under his furrowed brows. 

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” he asked. 

You looked up into his eyes. Despite yourself, you had to smile. I’m not playing fair, you realized. 

“Okay, come ‘ere,” you said. You took his hand and led him to sit with you on the bed. Pulling his hand between both of yours into your lap, you sighed and thought about how you were going to say this. 

After a moment, you got a burst of inspiration. You held up a waiting finger to him and went into the closet to pull out one of your 25-pound hand weights. It might as well have weighed a pound, for how light it felt. You brought it back to the bed, and Ben stared back at you quizzically. 

“So…I didn’t get that table from IKEA,” you confessed. “It was solid wood, and I really did break straight through it.”

He rose a brow. “All right…”

You then showed him your newfound strength, by breaking the hand weight in half with your bare hands. His eyes widened, making you giggle a bit. You deposited both metal heads into his hands. He considered them, then you. His brows were knitting together even tighter. 

“What the hell—”

“Remember when you donated blood for me, when I was laid up in the hospital a couple years ago?” you asked. “I got your super strength for a day or two afterwards.”

Ben nodded. You had been a bit more than laid up, but semantics, he guessed. He was getting more confused by the moment. 

“Well this time, I’m told it’s also temporary…for the next seven months or so,” you said with a playful smile. 

Ben considered your words. He turned them back and forth in his head… 

Finally, his gaze flicked from yours to the broken weights in his hands. And he tossed them to the floor with a heavy thud on the hard wood. 

You giggled in earnest when he reached for your face with both hands. His eyes searched yours for any hint of a joke, his jaw tight and working. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he asked. His voice was a hint unsteady. You smiled bright and covered his hands with your own as the beginnings of tears stung in your eyes. 

“Not this time,” you said. “Ben, I’m pregnant.” 

It took him a moment to register your words. You saw the moment it all finally set in, with new realization etching into his features.

Never once had you seen this man tear up. He turned his face away, but you still caught the edges of his emotion. 

You reached for his bearded cheek, turning him back to you. His eyes were red and starting to shine, even though he was fighting it. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then eased.

After a beat, his hands moved down from your face to brush down your arms, down your sides and around your frame. He pulled you into his lap, for which you went willingly into his arms. And your tears fell in earnest when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You knew what this meant to him, but you still couldn’t help but prod at him.

“Are you happy?” you teased, rubbing his back. Ben huffed and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. 

“What do you think?” he countered.  

Your hand moved down to slip under his shirt, gliding over the taut muscles in his back as they responded to your touch. You met him with a small smirk. 

“Show me,” you challenged. 

His lips quirked; that was all the encouragement he needed. Ben’s hands moved to tangle in your hair and squeeze the curve of your waist, bringing you flush against him when he kissed you. You inhaled deeply. Your nails dragged up his back, applying some pressure that made his shoulders twitch. 

You didn’t know what your newfound strength felt like to him, but for Ben, you felt solid in a way you hadn’t before. He could let go of some of his self-control and knead your hips with a force beyond bruising.

He could veer away from your lips and raze down your neck, and give your shoulder a love bite that would’ve drawn blood. Now it didn’t even break your skin. It did, however, earn him a pleased gasp. 

Maybe he’d just have to keep knocking you up, he thought. So you’d always be this strong.  

You started rucking up his shirt first, and had to push him back to even get it off him. After that, all bets were off.

It was a mad scramble to shed each other’s clothes, with Ben not being able to get away with his usual manhandling. Your smile grew, as you now had the strength to literally push back and make him work a bit harder for it.  

He smirked up at you when you managed to take him by surprise and push him back onto the bed. You’d successfully bared him for your gaze, but you still had your bra and panties on as you climbed over him and straddled his lap. 

Ben held himself up with a hand on the bed as the other slid around your waist and hooked you in. You took his face in your hands and gave him the full force of your passion.

Your lips claimed his in a devouring kiss, teeth clicking and tongues dueling for dominance. And you ground down your clothed core against his rising length, earning his groan of appreciation into your mouth.

With a flick of his wrist, your bra strap snapped off in the back. You huffed, knowing he’d probably broken the clasp.

Ah well, I’m about to need new ones soon enough.

The thought made you smile against his lips. You let him pull the bra down your arms and wherever he decided to fling it off to. You thought he might start traveling down between your breasts, as was a favorite path of his to map out.

But then, in one smooth motion Ben had you flipped over onto your back. He grinned at your yelp of surprise, but he didn’t give you a chance to recover. He latched onto your neck again, this time on the other side as he scraped his beard and teeth across your skin.

Meanwhile, you moaned encouragements in his ear while his heavy hand squeezed one of your breasts, rolled a thumb over a pert nipple. 

You trailed your hands down his chest, soothing over golden tan skin and freckles and sculpted muscle until you reached his hard length. You earned a straining grunt from your man as you teased the sensitive flesh, a thumb circling over its weeping head. 

Ben grabbed your wrist and gave you a warning look. “Can’t let me fucking concentrate, huh?”

You just grinned and took his hand instead. You dragged it down your body until you guided his fingers into your underwear, between your wet folds. 

“Ben, I need you,” you said. But your need was already in your eyes. Your skin was on fire wherever he touched, and deep inside, where you burned for him most. 

Ben felt it in your iron grip on his hand, now almost as strong as his own. Your legs curled up his thighs to wrap around his hips, teasing him with the soft promise between your inner thighs. So how could he do anything else but give you what you wanted? 

He teased between your folds with his fingers first. Gathering some of your wetness, he circled over your clit firmly. You whimpered as your back arched in response. 

“Gonna sing for me, baby doll?” he teased. Your breathing became more labored as his fingers continued to play with you, but you managed to offer a small smirk. 

“You gonna make me?” you asked. “Think you need to bring out the big guns for that one.”

Ben chuckled. As usual, you were being a little shit. 

So he brought you to the edge of your release, just with his fingers. You were starting to squeeze them tight with your inner walls, your moans getting more urgent. But he withdrew his digits at the last moment, leaving you panting and confused.

“What…”

He smirked down at you and wrapped his slick fingers around his cock, stroking himself a few times. You watched him with expectant, hungry eyes.  

“You want the big guns, I’ll fucking give ‘em to you,” he said. It made you huff, but you had to smile as he returned to you. He hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties and slowly, torturous, he pulled them down your legs.

Those same hands then traveled back up, gliding across your skin with purpose. Your breath shallowed in anticipation.

He eventually gripped your hips, pushing your thighs up a bit farther, and you lined his cock to your entrance. Your heels dug into his ass and added a bit of force when he pushed inside you. And your moans tangled together along with your bodies.

You fairly pulsed inside, and he felt it in your inner walls wrapped so fucking tight around him. His forehead briefly fell to your shoulder. Even though you were panting for breath, you still soothed him, carding your fingers through his hair. 

Normally he’d be going off at a relentless clip by now. But Ben started slow, rolling his hips back and forth into yours at a steady rhythm that managed to take your breath away and make your toes curl.

His name fell from your lips, reverent and pleased. You felt every part of him as he plunged inside you, and it was incredibly fucking hot.  

He took a moment to meet your eyes. He gave you a grin that softened the hard edges that so often lined his face in times like this. And you realized then what was happening.

Ben didn’t do slow. Not for long anyway. But it seemed like he’d taken your challenge to heart. In fact, you had a feeling he was showing you what he couldn’t quite put into words. 

When he reached a hand to part your folds and circle two insistent finger pads around your clit, you couldn’t help but grip his arms tight enough to bruise him. Your mouth opened on a keening moan.

Combined with his deep strokes starting to brush all the right spots inside you, it had you squeezing on him from the inside as you came hard, and made it known in his ear.

“Fuck—” Ben’s brows furrowed as your release finally triggered his own. And his voice joined yours, muffling in the pillow under your head. You shuddered as he spilled deep inside you. 

Your arms came around his back and held him to you for a moment afterwards, just stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck, whatever you could reach while you both caught your breath.

Eventually, Ben’s lips found your neck. You felt the shape of his smile grow there. 

“Too bad you’re already knocked up, or that could’ve been a great way to bring in our second kid,” he remarked.

This time, it took a second for his words to click together in your mind. As soon as they did, you uttered a laugh that shook both of your frames. You swatted his ass in reproach. He smirked down at you.

“I can't with you,” you said. Though you were still giggling. “You’re just gonna have to wait for the first one to come out of the oven.” 

Ben’s smirk evened out into a grin, his face almost boyish in his glee.

“Well, what can I say, baby? You’re a damn good cook.”  

AN: 😂 Well then. What did you think of how she broke the news? And Ben's reaction to finding out he's finally going to be a dad? 🥹

But of course, it's not going to be all sunshine and roses in Part 2. The reader and Ben reveal the good news to her family, and as we all know, he's hoping for a son...

Next Time:

“Hey,” she said. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

“And where’s this going?” you quipped. But you turned around and gave your little sister a half-smile. You knew what she was about to say.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked, gesturing to your man in the kitchen. “Mr. Macho wants his prized stud. What happens if he doesn’t get him?”

You sighed. “Ben’s wanted this for a long time. He’s got an idea in his head of what it’s going to be like, and…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Keep reading: PART 2

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

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[dawndelion-winery]

A Proposition

Fake dating and contract marriages

Ft. Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, Thoma, Zhongli

Alhaitham:

Acting grand sage, respected scholar, rich, young, handsome, there's a bunch of things that make Alhaitham an ideal spouse in name

Which led to a fair bit of unwanted attention

Unwanted because he knew for a fact most people found him quite the intolerable romantic partner - not that he could fault them, for he didn't exactly try to be romantic to begin with

So when you accidentally hold his hand while reaching for a book, he scowled at you, ready for whatever cheesy, unwelcome pickup line you might hurl at him

Except he only got a questioning stare as you asked if you had slighted him in some way

Perhaps it'd be good to have you around, keep his "admirers" at bay

Of course, you're handsomely compensated, his salary allows for that much and more

What he can't seem to allow is you holding his hand

Or making any sort of physical contact, for that matter

He hates how he suddenly finds himself holding his breath when your arms almost brush

He hates the way you somehow draw his gaze towards you when you stand beside him

This wasn't part of the agreement. At some point he asks you to live with him, under the guise of keeping up appearances

You had been dutifully fulfilling your role as his make belief spouse, surely that was why he felt so attached

His reasons are not reasoning, he needs you, he desires you

Well, at least the contract keeps you with him

After all, it wasn't so different from a real marriage, no? Both were contracts of sorts

Yes, he'll satisfy himself with that unless you try to leave

Ayato:

A high ranking official well loved by those under him?

Terribly popular, and yet a situation very unlike Alhaitham's

While yes, he had his fair share of admirers, the issue was with how he knew his staff keenly analysed every interaction he had, eager to spot if he ever took a fancy to anyone

After all, he'd been thrust into responsibility at such a young age, and the elder who'd helped raise him just wanted to see him happily settled down as elders do

So, as considerate as he is, he decides to ease their worries by taking on a pretend lover

Things move fast when you've the entire Kamisato estate and all its staff encouraging your relationship

Meals cooked to perfection, ambience dialed to just the right level of romantic and light-hearted to set the mood for your shared meals

And you will share meals, the staff ensure that much

Fake courtship quickly turns to fake dating, which turns into a whole ass Fake wedding ceremony everyone eagerly wishes you well with

Worst of all is how you seem to be the only one worried about the contract

Ayato? He hasn't said a word about it since it progressed to an engagement, easily going with the flow and taking you to choose a ring

Of course, you assumed this was part of the deal with how normally he treated it, but you couldn't help but be doubtful since marriage was a pretty big deal

You were inclined to believe Ayato was an incredibly convincing actor until he kissed you after he said his vows

"Despite the circumstances that brought us together, I have to say, I never quite expected you to find a home in my heart so easily. I can only hope I've a similar lodging in yours, and that you continue to trust in me, as you have thus far."

Kaveh:

He couldn't date - not when he only brought misery to those around him

It was what he'd gaslighted himself into believing until Alhaitham got sick of it and hired you to be his pretend spouse

You were quite confused when Alhaitham had approached you, not expecting a man of his status to require your services

Even more confused when you find he hadn't even sought you out for himself, commissioning you to play the role of his roommate's lover

Still, Alhaitham paid well, and surely, the roommate of such an esteemed person had to be good company, right?

Your jaw dropped to the ground when you realised it was Sumeru's star architect

Your worst mistake was probably assuming Kaveh knew about the contract

Poor guy was panicked as hell when you sidled up to him and slipped your hand in his

Until Alhaitham explained the situation and frankly, if you were doing it to make a quick buck of Alhaitham? He could respect the hustle

So he lets you dote on him

And it's nice...he fears...he starts to enjoy it

And he feels so terribly guilty because how dare he covet you when you're only in it for the contract

So he tries to open up to you in the hopes you start to fall for him even if only s little bit

And of course you pick up on it because Kaveh is a wreck when it comes to his emotions

There's no helping him once he's attached, he all but begs Alhaitham to keep paying you to stay

And you continue to take the money because cash is cash and it lets you spoil Kaveh

You're essentially given an allowance to be Kaveh's doting spouse

Maybe one day Kaveh will catch onto how you reciprocate his fondness, but hopefully not before you've gotten enough out of Alhaitham's pocket to live comfortably

Thoma:

As much as Ayato and Ayaka adore him, they do worry his life centres around being their housekeeper

They appreciate his work, truly, but they can't help but want him to have other activities he enjoys

Of course Thoma insists he simply enjoys his job, to which there's nothing either Kamisato can do about it except remind him that he's free to change his mind since they've complete faith in his ability to balance work and life

So naturally he finds you, a charming outlander wandering around Ritou, and proposes you pretend to date him

The story was simple enough, he was showing you around and you bonded over having to assimilate into Inazuman culture

It wasn't entirely false, since you did bond a fair bit over that

Maybe a little too much

It was simply so convenient, so easy to be together, that at some point, the two of you had quite forgotten about the deal entirely

That much made itself apparent with the matching wedding bands on your fingers

Zhongli:

Who more likely to propose such a contract than the god of contracts himself?

A loving spouse is simply part of the package to being your average joe among humans, he hears, so why wouldn't he try his best to blend in?

Of course, he'd never impose something like that upon his citizens and simply pick a spouse to his liking - he'd outgrown that immature, thoughtless, tyrannical phase of his life

Instead, he happens upon you in the lap of one of the statues of seven, absently tracing his stone chest as you murmured your worries

A strange sight, admittedly, but it wasn't unheard of for some believers to be...exceptionally devoted

It seemed he provided you some solace even in his "death", and that made you the perfect candidate

He courts you formally, conversing with you naturally like you'd known each other all your lives

But of course that wasn't nearly enough

He had to stand out, he knew that much

Which is why in his eyes, he let a bit of his old self show - the cold, reptilian gaze of his dragon self seeming to pierce through you

As patient and gentlemanly as Zhongli makes himself out to be when he's with you, he's nothing short of calculative

He feels the rush of heat to your face when you notice him glaring subtly at some poor fool who dares to cover you with their mortal eyes, he noticed the way your breath catches when he leads you with a firm hand on your shoulder, holding you close to him in a sort of half embrace

He knows you're falling

And in your infatuation, he is certain he's charmed you enough to make a proposition: be his. Help him keep up appearances

He seals the deal by revealing his draconic form to you, in all its intimidating glory

There's a different sharpness, a fearsome edge to him that you're certain he never had before and yet it has you rooted to the spot, eyes glued to him

There's a finality in his tone, a possessiveness as he presents the yellowed certificate to you, scaled, clawed hands holding a pen as he patiently waits for you to sign

And he knows you will

Zhongli is thorough in his act, so much so it may as well be true

As you play your role to the best of your ability, he plays his to perfection, the ideal husband

It's enough to convince you he truly did fall head over heels in love with you, and yours believe it if you hadn't been informed of the contract at the very start

Make no mistake though, you are in no way encouraged to believe it's an act. He will convince you it's real by any means he deems necessary

After all, it's a contract that will only terminate with your death, so why not believe his every word when he so earnestly takes care of you?

Happy belated birthday @zhongrin !! Hope you enjoyed your husbands<3

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

[mariacallous]

The Internet Archive has lost a major legal battle—in a decision that could have a significant impact on the future of internet history. Today, the US Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit ruled against the long-running digital archive, upholding an earlier ruling in Hachette v. Internet Archive that found that one of the Internet Archive’s book digitization projects violated copyright law.

Notably, the appeals court’s ruling rejects the Internet Archive’s argument that its lending practices were shielded by the fair use doctrine, which permits for copyright infringement in certain circumstances, calling it “unpersuasive.”

In March 2020, the Internet Archive, a San Francisco-based nonprofit, launched a program called the National Emergency Library, or NEL. Library closures caused by the pandemic had left students, researchers, and readers unable to access millions of books, and the Internet Archive has said it was responding to calls from regular people and other librarians to help those at home get access to the books they needed.

The NEL was an offshoot of an ongoing digital lending project called the Open Library, in which the Internet Archive scans physical copies of library books and lets people check out the digital copies as though they’re regular reading material instead of ebooks. The Open Library lent the books to one person at a time—but the NEL removed this ratio rule, instead letting large numbers of people borrow each scanned book at once.

The NEL was the subject of backlash soon after its launch, with some authors arguing that it was tantamount to piracy. In response, the Internet Archive within two months scuttled its emergency approach and reinstated the lending caps. But the damage was done. In June 2020, major publishing houses, including Hachette, HarperCollins, Penguin Random House, and Wiley, filed the lawsuit.

In March 2023, the district court ruled in favor of the publishers. Judge John G. Koeltl found that the Internet Archive had created “derivative works,” arguing that there was “nothing transformative” about its copying and lending. After the initial ruling in Hachette v. Internet Archive, the parties negotiated terms—the details of which have not been disclosed—though the archive still filed an appeal.

James Grimmelmann, a professor of digital and internet law at Cornell University, says the verdict is “not terribly surprising” in the context of how courts have recently interpreted fair use.

The Internet Archive did eke out a Pyrrhic victory in the appeal. Although the Second Circuit sided with the district court’s initial ruling, it clarified that it did not view the Internet Archive as a commercial entity, instead emphasizing that it was clearly a nonprofit operation. Grimmelmann sees this as the right call: “I’m glad to see that the Second Circuit fixed that mistake.” (He signed an amicus brief in the appeal arguing that it was wrong to classify the use as commercial.)

“Today’s appellate decision upholds the rights of authors and publishers to license and be compensated for their books and other creative works and reminds us in no uncertain terms that infringement is both costly and antithetical to the public interest,” Association of American Publishers president and CEO Maria A. Pallante said in a statement. “If there was any doubt, the Court makes clear that under fair use jurisprudence there is nothing transformative about converting entire works into new formats without permission or appropriating the value of derivative works that are a key part of the author’s copyright bundle.”

In a statement, Internet Archive director of library services Chris Freeland expressed disappointment “in today’s opinion about the Internet Archive’s digital lending of books that are available electronically elsewhere. We are reviewing the court’s opinion and will continue to defend the rights of libraries to own, lend, and preserve books.”

Dave Hansen, executive director of the Author’s Alliance, a nonprofit that often advocates for expanded digital access to books, also came out against the ruling. “Authors are researchers. Authors are readers,” he says. “IA’s digital library helps those authors create new works and supports their interests in seeing their works be read. This ruling may benefit the bottom line of the largest publishers and most prominent authors, but for most it will end up harming more than it will help.”

The Internet Archive’s legal woes are not over. In 2023, a group of music labels, including Universal Music Group and Sony, sued the archive in a copyright infringement case over a music digitization project. That case is still making its way through the courts. The damages could be up to $400 million, an amount that could pose an existential threat to the nonprofit.

The new verdict arrives at an especially tumultuous time for copyright law. In the past two years there have been dozens of copyright infringement cases filed against major AI companies that offer generative AI tools, and many of the defendants in these cases argue that the fair use doctrine shields their usage of copyrighted data in AI training. Any major lawsuit in which judges refute fair use claims are thus closely watched.

It also arrives at a moment when the Internet Archive’s outsize importance in digital preservation is keenly felt. The archive’s Wayback Machine, which catalogs copies of websites, has become a vital tool for journalists, researchers, lawyers, and anyone with an interest in internet history. While there are other digital preservation projects, including national efforts from the US Library of Congress, there’s nothing like it available to the public.

[nesiacha]

Frustration when I watched a television show about the Overseas Departments and Haiti during the period of the re-establishment of slavery and in general.

The siege of the Crête at Pierrot in 1802, by A. Raffet, engraving Hébert, 1839

Warning: There are many atrocities I will talk about when we dive into the details of the Haitian Revolution and torture in the reedit in the end . So, don’t read if you’re not up for it.

Completely by chance, I caught the second half of the show "Toussaint Louverture" (though I skipped some parts, I admit) presented by Stéphane in his show "Secrets d’Histoire," which I would qualify as mediocre. However, I was surprised to see that this show, which has always been lenient towards Bonaparte and Louis XVI, finally addresses the horrible re-establishment of slavery and recalls that the second and final abolition of slavery in 1848 was unsatisfactory because financial compensation was given to the colonists, but nothing to the former slaves. The one in 1794 seemed better. The participants of the show indeed say that it was a grave mistake to re-establish slavery, both morally and strategically regarding Haiti. I don't feel they explained how disastrous the consequences were, like how these laws removed brilliant officers from the military, such as Louis Delgrès (although mentioned in the show) or Alexandre Dumas (not to mention many former slaves who served in the military or fought like the group to which belonged Flore Blois Gaillard, who allied with the French revolutionaries against the British forces). This was a severe blow to the army, especially with the laws we could call racial against Black people (though I hesitate to use this term because I'm not sure if the word racist was defined as we understand it today). It was a great blunder—if Bonaparte hadn't had the (stupid) idea to re-establish slavery, perhaps the Overseas Departments wouldn't have fallen under British influence (as for Haiti, I think it would have become independent even without the re-establishment of slavery, and France and Haiti could have been solid allies, but it would have been much less violent with fewer French and Haitian losses). All these wars cost enormous amounts of money, and I believe he wouldn’t have sold Louisiana (frankly, he surely had good reasons, but can you imagine the French revolutionaries, especially those from 1792-1794, even in their worst moments, trying to sell a territory, at least the majority of the Convention? I can't). Moreover, there is no mention of the horrible deportations endured by Guadeloupeans and Haitians to Corsica, whether men, women, or children, under atrocious conditions. The most famous victim is the deputy Jean Louis Annecy (although very forgotten), who died on the island of Elba in 1807.

As usual, revolutionary women are forgotten. There is only a mention of Rosalie, alias Solitude, but there were many who participated in the fight, including Sanité Belair, who was executed by firing squad with her husband, Marie Claire Bonheur, the future Empress of Haiti, Victoria Montou, Dédée Bazile, Cécile Fatiman, Marthe Rose Toto from French Guiana, etc. The list is very long.

Finally, I don't like this whitewashing of Charles Leclerc (they do say that Rochambeau was terrible, at least, but since Leclerc was Bonaparte’s brother-in-law, he surely received some favorable treatment in this show). Here is an excerpt from the beginning of his horrors: "The majority of the deportees were concentrated in Corsica and the island of Elba, where they were used as labor for road construction and fortification restoration starting with the former Black soldiers" (text excerpt from "La guerre des Couleurs" of Pierre Branda and Thierry Lentz) . There was authorization to condemn Black people based on mere suspicion. Moreover, here is a letter Leclerc sent to his brother-in-law Napoleon Bonaparte: "Here is my opinion on this country. We must destroy all the Black people in the mountains, men and women, keep only the children under 12 years old, destroy half of those in the plains, and not leave a single colored man who has worn an epaulette in the colony." To think that I found the orders from the Convention in 1793-1794 frightening because they were ambiguous... Well, another reason why I find Bonaparte much more terrifying than them (already, the torture practiced by the police under Fouché in 1801 was appalling when he allowed it, the deportation without trial of many Jacobins, some of whom died, etc.), it reinforced my belief that he was much worse than the Committee of Public Safety in 1794, who nevertheless committed unforgivable acts in wartime under the infernal situation of internal-external civil war. Leclerc started the drownings in October 1802: it didn't matter whether the victims were civilians or soldiers; they were put on boats that were sunk. This strongly recalls the horrors committed by Carrier. According to Marlene L. Daut, the horrors were such that there were many desertions among French soldiers, which must not have been an easy situation for them because they could be shot for desertion and, even if they survived, forced to avoid returning home to avoid trouble with Napoleonic justice.

Leclerc (and by extension, Bonaparte) fell into the trap that some fighters, victims of an invasion or imminent invasion, have used throughout history, which seems quite old: pretending to ally with their adversaries to buy time, even if it means sacrificing their own to better fight the enemy again (and they certainly don't reach the only ones using this technique). This is what happened with Dessalines: the show doesn’t explain the armed resistance led by the Bélair couple against Leclerc, where they temporarily won victories. However, some believe this uprising might have been premature, although the insurgents weakened Leclerc with certain victories, and consequently, Dessalines allowed Charles and Sanité Bélair to be sacrificed. To be fair, the show I mentioned briefly explains that Henry Christophe and Dessalines did not betray Toussaint; they just wanted to buy time, but there is no mention of the Bélair couple. According to historians Pierre Branda and Thierry Lentz, Dessalines killed two birds with one stone by eliminating a potential rival in the person of Charles Bélair and to lull Leclerc's distrust to better attack when the time comes. In any case, by buying time, they were able to achieve better victories against Leclerc (who surely thought that by compromising Dessalines in the eyes of Black people, the insurgents would no longer dare to fight with him, but he was wrong) and later Rochambeau. Rochambeau continued by increasing atrocities, notably by releasing dogs on Black people and continuing to practice torture. There are allegations that Rochambeau locked Black people in holds and activated sulfur so they would die of asphyxiation. Thierry Lentz and Pierre Branda think it is not impossible that this happened. Bernard Gainot cites Jules Chanlatte from his work "Histoire de la catastrophe de Saint-Domingue" and published by a former sailor, Jean-Baptiste Bouvet de Cissé, in 1824: "Instead of valve boats, another type was invented, where victims of both sexes, piled on top of each other, expired suffocated by sulfur fumes." Whatever the case, the insurgents militarily defeated Rochambeau and the French troops, and their final victory was the Battle of Vertières in November 1803. Following this, Haiti's independence was proclaimed.

Where I totally disapprove is when, in order to try to limit the horrors that the Blacks people have suffered, they explain their reprisals, especially with the horrible massacre of the Whites people in 1804. I have already said in a post that massacre it is absolutely condemnable and atrocious . But imagine the horror of a little less than half of the Haitian population massacred in atrocious suffering, some betrayed by France while they had fought for them, others deported in atrocious conditions and some will never see their home again. I think that if their adversaries who oppressed them and those who applauded them had suffered a quarter of an eighth of the horrors that the Haitians suffered, the carnage would have been even more terrible. I do not want to exonerate the Haitians who took part in the massacre of 1804 from the responsibility but if Bonaparte had not approved such cruel orders (and he is the number 1 person responsible for this carnage), Whites people would not have been killed at least not in large numbers. The historian Thomas Madiou, said "Is it surprising that blacks and men of color used reprisals against whites?" And in any case nothing excuses the attitude of Bonaparte, Rochambeau or Leclerc. In my eyes they behaved like Turreau and Carrier. If we try to exonerate Bonaparte and his clique responsible for these massacres by highlighting the atrocities on the other side, it is a call to also exonerate horrible people like Carrier and Turreau by saying that the Vendéens committed massacre too.

In addition, the show ignored the many Haitians who protected white people from this massacre (Including Marie Claire Bonheur, wife of Dessalines, who nevertheless ordered the massacre I mentioned here: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/758334606594523136/166-years-ago-empress-marie-claire-bonheur-of?source=share) and didn't said that the Polish legionnaires who were sent by Bonaparte to repress them were touched by the horrors that the Blacks suffered and many of them deserted to fight alongside the former slaves (as a form of recognition, the survivors were given Haitian nationality) were spared just like the Germans who had not participated in the slave trade ( but on the second point maybe I am wrong). For my part Rochambeau, Leclerc, Carrier and Turreau are to be put in the same bag concerning their atrocities when they were sent on a mission. Too bad Turreau and Rochambeau did not pay for their atrocities (some say that the fact that Leclerc died of yellow fever is enough karma and Carrier was guillotined and I do not pity him at all)

Finally, this isn't in the show, but I don't like when people say that Bonaparte was "a man of his time" to excuse his actions regarding slavery. No, he reinstated it, which is even worse. Sonthonax, Abbé Grégoire, Jean-Paul Marat, Pierre Gaspard Chaumette, Olympe de Gouges, and many others were also from the same era as Bonaparte and were opposed to slavery. The re-establishment of slavery shocked many French people, and a white man named Monnereau, under the orders of Delgrès, was hanged in Guadeloupe because he rose up against the re-establishment of slavery and drafted Louis Delgrès' last manifesto. While Bonaparte was reinstating slavery, a white man gave his life for the fight against it (and there must have been many examples like Monnereau). So, this argument to whitewash Napoleon doesn't hold up.

P.S.: I first found the information about asphyxiation from Claude Ribbe. However, even as a convinced, even a person like me petty, anti-Napoleon person ( and a bad faith person I admit it), I find him not very credible. Comparing Napoleon to Hitler is one of the most absurd things I ever heard. That's why I'm more cautious about this statement.

My sources for this post are: Bernard Gainot Pierre Branda, Thierry Lentz, "La guerre des couleurs"

[milkbreadtoast]

Cookie Run Webtoon EN TL

NEED TO SHARE THIS HERE... A few days ago Korean cookie run fandom was buzzing because 3 chs of an official cookie run webtoon had been uploaded... the pages have since been taken down (there's speculation that they might've been released too early by mistake??) BUT someone archived them so they can still be read!! And I did a (rough) english translation of all 3 chapters!!! (it was fun🥺 pls enjoy)

(Link to Ch 1) (Link to Ch 2) (Link to Ch 3)

CH 1:

note: Roguefort cookie's name in Korean(괴도맛 쿠키) is literally Phantom Thief(mysterious thief) flavor Cookie, and this 괴도 is the same thing Kaito Kid from Detective Conan is called (괴도 키드)

--

huhuhu...

(clink/jangle)

🌶:Yep, I really am a genius.

🌶: uhaha! instead of robbing a bank, it's much faster and easier to just rob bank-robbers, ya know~!

🌶:With this, my bounty will go up another level...

(chattering)

🌶: what, what's going on? (suddenly)

Reporter: As for Roguefort cookie's previously announced target, a 60 carat Yellow Diamond:

This jewel has been passed down from the Golden Cheese Kingdom for generations, and is said to be a symbol of good fortune, bringing(lit: wishing for) prosperity and longevity to the nation.

🌶: (Hmm, that's a puny gem.)

The jewel's owner adds that they will compensate the cookie who captures Roguefort Cookie, a payment of 1,000,000 coins as a reward to whoever captures this phantom thief...

(jolt)🌶: (A million coins?!)

🌶: (Then Roguefort cookie's bounty is higher than mine, isn't it!!) (1000000 vs 700000)

🌶: (THAT'S UNACCEPTABLE!!)

🌶: (I'll have the pride of a thief and steal it first!!)

(Title:) Who is the best thief?

Ep 1: Who is the best thief?

-That night

(footsteps)

🌶: WAIT, YOU THERE! (suddenly)

🌶: I heard the yellow diamond was at this mansion. Know where it is?

butler: (EEP) ch, chili pepper cookie?!

butler: This is a very tightly guarded place, How in the world did you get in?

🌶: Psh, this is mere child's play to me. (lit: chewing gum)

butler: I'm calling the guards/security.

🌶: ......

🌶: What are you doing? Roguefort Cookie. (pause)

Roguefort🧀: A sloppy disguise, I suppose.

Roguefort🧀: ...How did you know?

🌶: A thief's intuition?

🧀: Haha... how interesting.

To think you'd see through my disguise. (riiip)

🧀: Then I guess you're also aware that I have the jewel with me.

🌶: WHAT?!

🌶: HAND IT OVER RIGHT NOW!

GHH! (whish) (whish)

🧀: I wonder if you can catch me?

I am the best phantom thief who has never been caught to this day, after all~ ^^

🌶: Don't make me laugh, I'M the best!!

🧀: (heh) If so...

🧀: How about we admit that the cookie who steals this jewel is the best thief? (sparkle)

🌶: Heh, think I won't be able to snatch it from ya?

🌶: You'll end up regretting this.

🧀: We shall see.

WAIT!

!!! (pause)

(🌶) You?! Cheesecake Cookie?!

🌶: This place is your mansion too?;; (Just how many mansions do you have?!)

🧀: How did you know we were here?

Cheesecake🧀🍰: With all this terrible noise you've been making, wouldn't it be weirder to not know~?

Cheesecake🧀🍰: Apparently, it seems like you want to distinguish who is the best thief between you, but...

🧀🍰: Haven't you two already stolen all the decent treasures anyway?

Try stealing something a bit more difficult~

🌶&🧀: more difficult?

(grin) 🧀🍰That's right. If you're a real thief...

🧀🍰: How about trying to steal someone's heart?

🌶&🧀: !!!

(end of ch1)

-----

LINK TO CH 2:

CH2:

cheesecake🧀🍰: How about trying to steal someone's heart?

🌶: someone's... whuh?

RF🧀: Heart. someone's heart.

🌶: What's so great about stealing someone's heart?

🧀🍰: Stealing something tangible is too easy~

Why, don't think you can do it?

(frantically/fiercely) 🌶: WHADDYA MEAN!!

🧀🍰: And you, Roguefort?^^

RF🧀: (Heh) ...Seems like it'll be interesting. Though stealing someone's heart is also too easy for me...

🧀🍰: huhu~ Good, good!

🧀🍰: Then make sure both of you come back here at the same time again tomorrow!

I'll explain the details then~

(slide)

🌶: ...an invitation to a ball?

(creak/screech/squeal)

(footsteps)

🌶: (Where's Cheesecake?)

🧀🍰: Oh my~ Welcome, Chili!

🌶: What about Roguefort?

🧀🍰: Roguefort already arrived first and got started~ (hoho~)

🌶: WHAT?!

🌶: They beat me to it?! I gotta start quickly too, who's my target!?

🧀🍰: Wait, before that- (snap)

🧀🍰: Let's get you changed first!

🌶: GUH? (grab)

🧀🍰: Take her to the dressing room~ (what is that state you're in?)

🌶: WHAT THE, LET ME GO-!!

(thump, crash)

UWAAAGH!!!

(title: Who is the best thief?)

🌶:Ugh...!

🌶: What the hell is this!

🌶: guaah!! This dress is too stuffy/suffocating!! (creak creak)

🧀🍰: Oh my, is that so?

🧀🍰: Hold on-- Now where would my new Chocolaté Collection be... (toss toss)

🌶: ...By the way

What are you two doing here?

🥛: A part time job!

🥛: I have to buy Dark Choco-nim's goods, you see~ (hehe!)

💪: They released new protein, so I need money! (flex)

🌶: Ah...

🧀🍰: Chili! Try this on~

🌶: Phew, I think I can live now~!

🧀🍰: It suits you well~

🧀🍰: Here, take this.

🌶: What's this? ??

🌶: A mask?

🧀🍰: Tonight is a masquerade ball, you see.

🧀🍰: Your target is wearing a cat mask.

Between the two of you, the cookie who wins their favor first will win.

🌶: How would we prove that we won their favor?

🧀🍰: You just have to receive and bring back one of their things as proof/indication of winning. (You musn't steal it!)

🧀🍰: I already told Roguefort the same thing, so you should probably get going right away?

🌶: (WHAT?!) YOU SHOULD'VE SAID THAT EARLIER!

🌶: (A cat mask she said... where in the world are you?)

🍮iii: Can't I hold that for a sec?

🧙: No.

🍮iii: just once~!

🧙: No-!!!

🌶: Excuse me...

🌶: By any chance, have you seen a cookie wearing a cat mask around here?

🍓: ! (gasp)

🍓: Huh? Uh...

I, I... (th, that...)

🍓: I-I saw someone that way... (blush~) (note: speaking formally)

🌶: (whish) Ah, thanks!

🍓: 😳.....

🍮iii: trade with meee~!

🧙: I said no!!

🌶: ! (Over there!!!)

(loud footsteps)

RF🧀: ...So as I was saying...

🌶: Hi! Nice to meet you! (whack!) (shove)

🌶: For you to play dirty and go first...

(bzzzt)

(LET'S SEE WHO EMERGES THE WINNER!!!)

🐱:?

(/ch 2 end)

------

LINK TO CH 3:

CH3:

🌶: ghh...

🌶: (I butted in all confidently but...)

(awkward) 🌶: (what the heck should I say?)

🧀: The moon is flying unusually high tonight... It must be because she is jealous of your beauty.

🐱: Oh my! 🌶(dripping down)

🌶: (Are they crazy?) (I can't say something cringey like that!!)

🍮: 'scuse me!

🌶: Huh?

🍮: She said she's got something to say to you!

🍓: U-um, well...

🍓: I-if it's okay with you... May I have this dance? (lit: will you dance 1 song with me?) (note: speaking very formally)

🌶: No, I...

🐱: My, you musn't refuse an invitation to dance, you know.

Please go on ahead! (lit: go and come back)

(zoned out)

🌶: (Dammit, I can't just leave Roguefort alone like this though-!!)

🌶: At this rate, I'm gonna lose..!

🍓: U-um, excuse me, by any chance...

🍓: Could it be that you didn't want to dance, but reluctantly agreed and forced yourself to for my sake...? (lit: ...pointlessly because of me, reluctantly came out)

🌶: Ah, it's not like that

🌶: To be honest, I don't really know how to dance. Today is my first ball, ya see.

🍓: I-is that so?!

🍓: Wh-what should we do, It's my first too tho...

🍓: I'm so sorry for making things troublesome for you...! (dashing off)

🌶: W-WAIT!

🌶: Are balls such a big deal? We just have to move to the beat, right?

🍓: B-but...

🌶: Look! Those guys are all enjoying themselves dancing, aren't they!

(🍮: You really can't dance!! (stomp stomp) )

🍓: Ah...

🌶: Let's just enjoy ourselves as well!

🍓: ...Okay!

(Wheee~) (/giggle)

🐱: ......

🧀: Pardon me,

🧀: The lobby is rather chaotic, so it seems like dancing might be difficult... shall we move to a quieter place?

🐱: Yes, sounds good. (footsteps)

🍓: Whew~

🍓: I had fun, thank you so much!

🌶: Me too! (hahaha)

🌶: (Gasp) (This isn't the time for that!)

🌶: I totally forgot I was in the middle of a bet. I have to quickly go back to stealing hearts... (whish whish) Where the heck did they go?

🌶: Hey, have you guys seen Roguefort Cookie?

🥂: Roguefort Cookie..?

🥛: Ah, I have!

🥛: I saw them go out to the garden a little while ago.

🌶: The garden?

(dashing footsteps)

🥂: Roguefort Cookie came to tonight's ball? They're not trying to steal something, by any chance...? (That was Chili Pepper Cookie just now, right?)

🥛: Ah, I heard they're doing a bet with Chili Pepper Cookie.

🥛: I encountered them while I was changing clothes... they really did disguise themself perfectly!

🥂: Aha~

🌶: What garden is this wide? (Seriously.)

🌶: Ah, there they are.

!!!!!

(/ch 3 end)

[booksandabeer]

A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy) (E | 150 K)

To celebrate the completion of the fourth & final part Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) in this wonderful series by dorian_burberrycanary.

Author's summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included.

Follow Steve and Bucky on their Great American Road Trip as they drive and eat their way across the country and beyond. From the beaches of the Jersey Shore to the graveyards of Savannah, from the cragged horizons of Mexico to deserts with (small) volcanoes, from college campuses to earthship settlements, from the mountains of Colorado to the monumental emptiness of the Great Plains and on and on and on…there is always more road ahead.

A Man Takes... is a miracle of a series that works with what should be an unworkable premise: Steve really did leave to go live in the past. He returned a few months later, yes, but he still made that choice. Knowingly. So, how can any author, any story, rectify such a colossal mistake, and how can it be reconciled with a believable, satisfying romance that short-changes neither Steve nor Bucky? Like this. With patience, and care, and often painful honesty. Just like Steve, this story slowly digs itself out from under the burden of that terrible decision.

I know that some people are very reluctant or even outright refuse to read EG-compliant fics and I understand why this might be a tough sell for them. Believe me, I do. But this series manages to neither let Steve off the hook for his choices nor does it punish him excessively. Instead, Steve and the readers are repeatedly confronted with the fact that there are no magical solutions here, no take-backs—it’s a fix-it, yes, and very much a Stucky fic through and through, but it’s not a fix-it fantasy where in the end everything turns out to have been an unfortunate misunderstanding after all. What's done is done and the only way out is through. But. even if you usually prefer to ignore anything that happened post-[insert preferred point of canon divergence here], please, please try to give this absolute marvel of a series a chance. It is genuinely one of the most rewarding and satisfying works I've ever read in this fandom. It's catharsis in slow motion.

You will find descriptive writing here that is so incredibly beautiful that it will bring you to your knees in awe. This series transcends fanfiction in many ways, as it stands out for the remarkable quality of the prose and the nuance, subtlety, and precision with which it explores both the emotional landscapes of its protagonists and a fictionalized, yet very recognizable post-Snap America. At the same time, it could only ever work as fanfiction because it stays so close to the characters and is so deeply rooted in and filtered through Steve’s inner life and perspective. Just like the real Steve Rogers, this story is smart and curious, and deeply empathetic towards its characters and the world they inhabit.

Every detail is imbued with meaning. The food Steve and Bucky eat. The clothes they wear. The art they look at. The books they read. The music they listen to. The places they stay at. The landscapes they drive through and the objects they carry with them or acquire along the way. One doesn't need to understand or even notice all of the references, allusions, or ambiguities to enjoy the series, but it makes for such a rewarding reading experience to really dig deep into the many, many layers the author has so expertly assembled into this phenomenally rich text. More often than not in this fic, the curtains aren’t just blue. Or rather, Bucky’s sweatpants aren’t just gray.

At some point amidst this sprawling, reflective journey, a bittersweet realization sets in: There simply is no compensation for the time and life lost, for the pain suffered. No money, no medals or statues, no hagiographies, and certainly no delusional pipe dreams forcibly made real, will ever make up for all that loss. You can't outrun your past, but that doesn't mean you should bury yourself in it. And maybe, solace can be found in mutual understanding, not just between these two men, but in interactions, in shared community—however fleeting—with ordinary people doing ordinary things in their ordinary lives. And in the beauty of the mundane and the relief that there still is a world in which such beauty can exist, even though it is so often a cruel and unjust place. Steve Rogers finally allows himself to feel his feelings: his grief and his shame, but also his joy and—even though he’s already so very tired—his hunger for more. More time, more life, more Bucky.

This series is a wonderful tribute to Steven Grant Rogers—an honest and affectionate portrayal of this compelling and lovable, if at times difficult, character. It is also a gorgeous, intricate love letter to the miracle of a man that is James Buchanan Barnes. As you can probably tell by now, I love it a totally not normal amount.

A most heartfelt thank you to @burberrycanary for taking us all along on Steve and Bucky's long journey across America and (back) to each other. Thank you for letting us sit in the back seat and watch as they learn to love and live with each other in old and new ways, finally find some measure of well-deserved rest and peace, and, together, face their greatest challenge, their longest fight, the eternal question:

How to live with all this survival?

[feyascorner]

so kinda bad news ch 8 of TFBU will take a bit longer than usual :// i rushed ch 7 a bit and i wasnt super happy w how it turned out so i dont want to make the same mistake again!!!! i hope you guys understand :))) the delay won't be terribly long just a few days but here's a very tiny crumb not really a crumb to compensate!

astarion throwing temper tantrums are my favorite scenes in game so expect a lot of that throughout TFBU lol!!!

[mewpangxin]

—✦Thoughts on what would happen if the reader loses memory in Glorious Masquerade Events —✦

(CW: Yandere)

FT. Rollo Flamme X GN! Reader

He was taken aback when you woke up and plastered your arms around his neck, his eyes stared at you.

... Don't you remember what he has done?

You looked dubious of the boys from Night Raven College, and refused to meet them or discuss.

He was thankful that it went like this.

He steadied himself and inquired you with his voice.

He concealed his smile with his purple handkerchief as he soothed you with courtesy on the outside.

He didn't hurt you (I think?) - Nonetheless he was a culprit.. or could it be a chance for him? Is this a way where he could amend his ways? And save you from those twisted mindset of liking magic users?

Does he learn anything from his mistakes?

Of course not! Why should he feel awful for what he did for a greater cause? He was not wrong.

Since it's for their own good. And yours.

Your ‘acquaintances’ weren't here and you can count, depend on him, and live with him!

His apathetic self dissipated as he tells you that you were secured in Noble Bell College, oh his dear beloved, how glad he was to defend you in this case, no wretched fae or being can rip you away from him.

He was a student president council and what he informed you has no lies, he said the facts to you.

—It was overly dramatic and that he hid about how you were from another institution. He doesn't have a brutal streak, you don't have to be on guard— he can accommodate your needs and your troubles too.

He readjusted your hair with his comb, musing how lucky you were to have him like this, all wrapped around your little finger. Even he was puzzled if this was due to you being a siren but he disregarded it as impossible because you truly had no ability to use spells or any enchantments on anyone he saw.

It seems the transferring you to his school was going with no problems as his principal was sympathetic towards you and gave the position to Rollo to take care of you. You needn't face the overblots anymore, his green pupils gazed at the scars imprinted on you.

“Although I was not able to achieve my goal.. this outcome isn't as vicious as I'd hope to receive.”

Spouting words that you did not register. He placed a hand on your forehead as he brushed it placidly.

“You may not concur to my ideals, and it's alright, I’m patient to wait until you are with me.”

His face was less curt as he caressed your lips.

“Say to them that you agreed to be within my academy. No one will dissent. Won’t you?”

If he can't have his dream fulfilled then you would be his compensation for everything he wants so terribly.

He will only take a ‘yes’ from you as his answer.

[milllkaa]

I need a fanfic about unrequited love, god. Please?!?!?

It doesn't matter who's in love, Johnny or Kenshi, both are painfully beautiful.

(Meanwhile, sorry for any mistakes that might have been made, I'm still learning English.)

Kenshi would hide his feelings to the last because friendship is more important to him. Because Johnny is more important to him. And it's excruciating to be in love with someone like Johnny. You know. Flirting instead as communication, frequent physical contact in the form of touching, hugging, the huge amount of attention what he gives you just because he likes you (platonically, as a person). And I think there are two ways of end - Kenshi will bury these feelings with him in the grave, OR in an attempt to get rid of the feelings he distance himself from Johnny, which he will certainly not like. They have a huge fight and Takahashi just gives up. Because of emotion, because of Johnny's lack of understanding, he would just scream it in his face as it was.

"Why are you avoiding me, Kenshi?! You in trouble?" "You're my trouble, Cage." "Are you fucking kidding me? Why?!" "Because I love you! Dumbass."

"...Oh."

God, Kenshi, baby, I'm sorry.

And Johnny? Oh, it's a one-man show. He's a narcissistic pretty boy that's used to being the center of attention (or is he just compensating for his childhood traumas that way?), used to getting what (who) he wants. But that's exactly the kind of situation where he would lose all his confidence. Fall in love with Kenshi? No way.

He's his best friend, the man who gave up his sight in exchange for his, Johnny's, life. He wouldn't be able to dump his "nobody wants" feelings on him. I'm sure he'd just pretend everything was the same, although he'd certainly become a little more obsessive. And he'd do something stupid at some point. Would he just kiss Kenshi out of the blue, or crash into his house drunk, not realizing what he was saying or doing?

reaches for a kiss "Johnny, you're drunk." "Yeah, and?" "That's what all drunk people do. You'll be sorry later"

"I'll never be sorry for kissing you, Kenshi."

Yes, I'm a terrible person. Yes, I like to watch other people suffer. Yes.

[ask--eggman]

Hope you had a good Father's day, sir!

Indeed I did! Nobody deserves to be celebrated on such a holiday like I do, after all. My daughter has a lot to appreciate and thank me for, being the genius who created her in a far superior science of code and elections, to the inferior natural life that just anyone could do. Her intelligence, skill, life-like personality and feelings are all my doing!

My creations were competing to please me the most all day, even attempting things they were far from designed for to make me happy. It went a lot better than I expected, aside from the times they were almost tripping over themselves to please me the most and almost resulted in some clumsy mistakes. I got a pretty good breakfast in bed out of it though.

I was pleased to see Orbot and Cubot working harder too. I told them they should appreciate and treat me like this everyday because every day is a day to celebrate me.

I think they're just starting to worry, realizing they're becoming terribly obsolete compared to Sage and trying to compensate. About time, but I'm still not convinced and impressed. I hope this helps them get it into their heads to make a greater effort, if they don't want to end up in the junk pile.

But my favorite part was when we went out to deal with some enemy bases and forces! Sage hacked into their systems to mess with them, shut down defenses and blow them up, while Metal Sonic grabbed and tore apart anyone who tried to escape. I fired missiles in my Egg Mobile and deployed more robots and I even got to have some fun bringing out my various guns and blasting them too, hoho!

Exhilarating crime, violence, explosions, and bloodshed. What could be a better way to spend a family day out?

[irradiatedpiratebooty]

Pleeeease do tell me more about Francis. Why did he leave the Children? Why did he join them in the first place? What did he do down in that bunker for three years, and what was getting out like? How did he meet the companions he hangs around with?

so, i'm gonna go in order of the timeline of events in his life. and please forgive some mistakes in the writing, i unfortunately didn't luck out with my abilities, and don't usually write anything more than footnotes. though i'm hoping the more I write out posts like this, the better i'll get :)

I also made goofy doodles to accompany the writing to compensate, and to better visualize what i'm trying to convey.

growing up, he mostly drifted from place to place with his family, which mostly consisted of him, his aunt, uncle, and two other cousins of his. his aunt adopted him at a very, very young age.

they mostly kept to DC, but eventually wanted to travel more east.

eventually though, due to family drama and disagreements, his family disbanded and he just traveled with his aunt. His aunt was VERY close with the rest of his family, so their departure took a toll on her.

she was pretty desperate to fill the void that was left, so when the children of atom offered relief from the feeling of abandonment, it didn't take much convincing.

the only catch was they had to leave DC and join the expedition to the commonwealth.

so, how did Francis join the children of atom?

Francis was about 18 at the time, and was used to just- going wherever his aunt went. so he didn't really question it and tagged along. He listened to the preachings and started to buy into the ideology himself. his aunt began to firmly believe too, so that helped condition Francis.

why did he eventually leave?

he left at the age of 20, knowing damn well what the cult does to dissenters. he was aiming to make it all the way back to DC and rejoin his family, but without the travel supplies that isn't realistically possible.

plus he's never been to Boston before, so he had no idea what direction to go in.

what did he do for 3 years?

he managed to wander his way to sanctuary, where he met Nate. (who i decided to make into an old ghoul, who protected vault 111 from the outside. he believed in the rumor that the vault was a cryo-facility, and that comforted him.)

Francis was half-dead when he wandered onto Nate's front yard, but Nate is nice and saw Francis as the exact opposite of a threat. think a newborn puppy on freshly polished tile.

he offered Francis his own bomb-shelter to stay in, taught him how to cook (which ended up being a new hobby for Francis.)

Nate is like a dad to him, so it worked out nicely.

Francis has high perception, and he's not stupid. (he just has TERRIBLE charisma)

so, with his S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes in mind, He began to question the fact Nate had never opened the vault, and tried to convince Nate to finally check in on his family. Nate refused at first, but after sleeping on the idea, he agreed. only to be met with the realization that his spouse was mysteriously murdered, son kidnapped, and only a recording of the crime. (thanks alternate start mod)

baffled by the fact that nobody ever opened the vault doors since the bombs fell, and now troubled with grief, Nate struggled to even face it all. Francis, wanting to repay Nate for giving him a place to live comfortably and safe from the cult who may use him to set an example for others who are thinking of turning their back on atom- promised that he'll seek out Nora's murderer, and most importantly, find their infant son.

where the rest of the game's plot plays out.

one thing to note though is his face markings. like the third eye of atom and the other rings around his face. usually its just makeup in game, but francis, at the time, wanted to prove his devotion in the most... non-lethal way he could think of. and so he got it basically tattooed. talk about regretful tattoos. with all that backstory being said, Francis is pretty happy most of the time!

sure, he's been through a lot, but he tries to see the positives in things. his main goal in life, during the acts in the main story, is to just finally have a place he can call home. maybe one with a comfy couch and a nice garden.