#but all he said in thar scene was

[muiitoloko]

Could you write an angsty with happy ending Alan x reader imagine in which reader quotes a line from a movie in an interview and thar is used for a promo for the interview, but of course it’s used out of context to lure people in and Alan sees it and it causes a fight between you guys

Title: Reel Lies, Real Love

Summary: When a viral video threatens to destroy their relationship, Alan and his partner must navigate betrayal, insecurity, and forgiveness to find their way back to each other.

Warnings: Angst

Pairing: Alan Rickman × fem! Reader

Author's Notes: Merry Christmas! 🥰

Also read on Ao3

Alan settled onto the plush couch in his London flat, his iPad perched precariously on his knees. He squinted at the screen, his hazel eyes narrowing in concentration as he navigated the icons. Technology had never been his strong suit, but he was nothing if not determined. His godson had given him a crash course on this "social media" craze, a concept Alan found both fascinating and perplexing. Still, the idea of being able to watch your latest interview from across the Atlantic had motivated him to wrestle with this confounding device.

"Right," he muttered, his baritone voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "Where is this bloody YouTube button?"

After several minutes of poking at random icons, he finally stumbled upon the app. Alan allowed himself a triumphant grin, the corners of his mouth lifting in quiet satisfaction. "Brilliant," he murmured, tapping the icon and watching as the screen flickered to life. "Not bad for an old dog, eh?"

"All right, here we go," he muttered to himself, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he typed your name into the YouTube search bar. A plethora of videos populated the screen almost instantly—clips of interviews, red-carpet appearances, and even behind-the-scenes snippets. Alan couldn’t help but smile; your charm practically radiated through every thumbnail.

He scrolled carefully, his hazel eyes scanning for the most recent interview. Finally, one title jumped out at him, standing apart from the rest. It read:

“[Your Name] Shocks Fans: ‘I Would Never Marry Him!’”

Alan’s heart skipped a beat. The bluntness of the statement hit him like a slap, the words lodging uncomfortably in his chest. For a moment, he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the play button. Logic whispered that it could be a misquote, a clickbait title meant to draw attention. But curiosity—and a flicker of unease—pushed him to tap on it.

The video began with a cheerful introduction from a well-dressed interviewer, and Alan leaned forward slightly, his breath catching when you appeared on screen. You looked radiant, as always, your smile lighting up the room. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride, even as a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach.

The interviewer started with light questions about the film, your co-stars, and your experiences on set. Alan’s lips quirked into a small smile as he listened to your eloquent responses, your humor and intelligence shining through. But then, the conversation took a turn.

Alan’s breath hitched as the video transitioned from light-hearted banter to a pointed question from the interviewer. The screen focused on the interviewer, who leaned in with a conspiratorial smile.

“You’ve been in a relationship with Alan for two years now,” the interviewer said casually, his tone laced with curiosity. “Do you have any plans to marry him?”

Alan’s brow furrowed, his hazel eyes fixed intently on the screen. A flicker of anticipation danced in his chest, quickly snuffed out by the sound of your laughter. The video cut to you, seated comfortably in your chair, a radiant smile lighting up your face. But it wasn’t the smile Alan had grown to adore—it was laughter, unguarded and light, as if the question had caught you off guard.

“Marry him?” you repeated, still laughing. “Oh no, not even if I were crazy. Never.”

The words struck like a blow, his chest tightening as he replayed them in his head. Never. His hooked nose flared as he inhaled sharply, his knuckles whitening as he clutched the iPad. The interview continued, the interviewer chuckling along with you, but Alan didn’t hear the rest.

He set the device down with deliberate care, his hands trembling slightly. The echo of your words reverberated in his mind, each repetition like a twist of the knife. He ran a hand through his silvered hair, his hazel eyes staring at the wall as he tried to make sense of what he’d heard.

“Two years,” he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice thick with disbelief. “Two bloody years.”

He wanted to dismiss it, to tell himself there must have been a misunderstanding. But the way you had laughed, the ease with which you dismissed the very idea of marrying him—it felt too real. It gnawed at insecurities he thought he had buried long ago, whispering that perhaps he was too old, too unworthy of the love you so freely gave on screen but apparently withheld in reality.

Alan stood abruptly, pacing the length of his living room. The plush rug muffled his footsteps, but the turmoil in his chest was deafening. Every laugh, every word in that interview played on repeat in his mind. He picked up his phone, his finger hovering over your contact name before he dropped it back onto the table. Confronting you now would only make him look desperate, wouldn’t it?

The hours dragged by, and Alan finally sank into his armchair, exhaustion overtaking the restless pacing. He stared out the window at the London skyline, the city lights twinkling faintly against the darkening sky. His heart ached with a familiar, dull weight—a longing for clarity, for reassurance, for you.

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, you sat in your hotel room scrolling through social media when you saw the headline:

“[Your Name] Slams Marriage Rumors with Alan Rickman: ‘Not Even If I Were Crazy!’”

Your stomach dropped. Clicking the link, you watched in disbelief as the video unfolded. It was a butchered version of the interview you had done just days ago. Your laughter and the line about “never marrying him” were shown out of context, manipulated to make it appear as if you were speaking about Alan when, in fact, you had been referring to your character’s reluctant relationship with a villainous love interest in the film.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you watched the fabricated exchange. The interviewer’s voice had clearly been re-recorded and spliced into the footage after you had left the studio. Your responses were genuine, but they were answers to entirely different questions, framed in a way that distorted their meaning.

Your hands shook as you dialed Alan’s number, the line ringing endlessly before going to voicemail. “Alan, please, call me back,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have to believe me. That video—it’s not real. They’ve edited it to twist my words. I’d never say something like that about you. Please, just… call me.”

You hung up, your mind racing. Alan was intelligent, discerning—surely, he would realize the video was a sham. But deep down, you knew how much it would have hurt him to see it. The way his self-deprecating humor sometimes masked lingering insecurities. And now, the idea that you’d laughed at the prospect of marrying him…

The hours passed in agonizing silence, your calls going unanswered. You paced the room, anxiety gnawing at your insides. Finally, unable to bear the distance, you booked a flight back to London for the following morning. If Alan wouldn’t answer your calls, you’d confront him in person.

The next morning, you stood outside Alan's door, heart pounding as your knuckles rapped against the heavy wood. It was early, the London air brisk and damp, and you hadn’t slept a wink after your red-eye flight. Every second of silence on the other side of the door stretched into eternity, your mind racing with every possible reaction Alan might have. Finally, the door opened, and there he was, dressed in his usual crisp shirt and slacks, his white hair slightly disheveled but his hazel eyes sharp and guarded.

You smiled, attempting to close the distance and kiss him as you usually did, but Alan turned his head, avoiding your lips entirely. The rejection stung, a cold ache blooming in your chest. He leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

“What do you want?” he asked, his baritone voice low but devoid of its usual warmth.

You blinked, stunned by the bluntness of his tone. “Alan, can I come in?” you asked softly, trying to steady your voice.

He exhaled through his nose, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter with a stiff wave of his hand. “Make it quick,” he muttered. “I’m due on set soon.”

You walked in, the familiar comfort of his flat feeling suddenly foreign. He closed the door behind you and strode into the kitchen without a glance in your direction. The bitterness in his tone cut deep, but you forced yourself to push through it, following him as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He stood with his back to you, every movement deliberate, as if he was purposefully avoiding looking at you.

“Alan,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “That video—it’s not what it looks like. The interview was manipulated. I wasn’t talking about you.”

He didn’t respond, only lifting his mug to his lips and taking a slow sip. His silence was deafening, his refusal to even turn around twisting the knife in your chest.

“I flew all the way from New York to tell you this,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice. “I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t care about you—if I didn’t want to fix this.”

Finally, Alan set the mug down on the counter, his fingers gripping the edge tightly. For a moment, you thought he might turn to face you, but instead, he let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fix it,” he repeated, his baritone voice laced with sarcasm. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. “I spoke to my agent,” you said carefully. “He suggested we make a public statement together. It would clear everything up, and—”

“Ah,” Alan interrupted, his voice cutting through yours like a blade. He finally turned to face you, his hazel eyes cold and distant. “So that’s it, then. This isn’t about me, is it? It’s about you. About salvaging your precious image after this little scandal didn’t go down the way you hoped.”

Your stomach dropped, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. “Alan, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “That’s not what this is about. I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, his hooked nose flaring as his voice rose. “You didn’t come here for me. You came here because you’re worried about your bloody reputation. Don’t pretend this is some grand gesture of love.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “That’s not true,” you said, your voice breaking. “I came here because I love you. Because I wanted to make things right.”

Alan laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and mocking. “Love?” he said, shaking his head. “If this is love, then I want no part of it. You’ve always been a problem, haven’t you? A bloody headache from the start. And for what? You’re not worth it.”

The words struck like a hammer, shattering whatever hope you had left. Your breath hitched, the tears you’d been holding back spilling over as you stared at him, your heart breaking into pieces.

“Alan,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through…”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said coldly, his hazel eyes hard. “And here’s another truth for you: even if that video was a lie, it wouldn’t matter. Because I wouldn’t marry you either.”

You staggered back as if he’d physically struck you, your hand flying to your mouth to stifle a sob. The room felt suffocating, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice. “You don’t mean that,” you said weakly, your voice barely audible.

“I do,” he said firmly, his baritone voice like ice. “And I think it’s time you left.”

For a moment, you could only stand there, staring at him in disbelief as the weight of his cruel words hung in the air. The room felt unbearably small, suffocating, the walls pressing in on you as his hazel eyes—those eyes you once found so full of warmth—now bore into you with cold indifference. Then, something inside you snapped. Anger surged through your veins, igniting like wildfire, burning away the sadness and leaving only fury in its wake.

“An idiot,” you hissed, shoving him hard in the chest. “That’s what you are, Alan. A fucking idiot.”

Alan staggered back slightly, his expression shifting to one of shock and fury. “Don’t touch me,” he barked, his baritone voice sharp enough to cut glass. “I swear to God, if you lay another finger on me, I’ll get a restraining order so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Oh, brilliant,” you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Go ahead, Alan. Get your precious restraining order. Add it to the list of ways you can further tarnish my ‘beautiful reputation.’ You know, the one you think I care so much about.”

Alan’s lips curled into a bitter sneer. “Don’t tempt me,” he growled. “You’ve done a bloody good job of ruining it yourself. What’s next? Another fabricated scandal to boost your career?”

You stepped closer, refusing to back down, your fists clenched at your sides. “That’s rich coming from you,” you snapped. “You think I care about any of this more than I care about you? Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see that video, knowing how it could hurt you? I flew across the fucking ocean to fix this!”

“Fix it?” Alan repeated, his hooked nose flaring as he glared at you. “You didn’t come here to fix anything. You came here to save your own skin, to play the innocent little actress trying to save face. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound raw and harsh. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Alan. You think I’d go through all this trouble just for my image? You’re not as clever as you think you are. If you had half the brains you claim to have, you’d know I’m here because I love you. Because I thought you were worth fighting for.”

Alan took a step forward, his presence looming over you. “You don’t love me,” he said coldly. “You love the idea of me. The actor, the director, the man who can hold his own in your world of lights and cameras. But me? The real me? You’ve never loved that.”

You felt your breath hitch, your anger momentarily faltering as his words struck a nerve. “How dare you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How dare you tell me what I feel? You’re so bloody self-absorbed, so stuck in your own insecurities, you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

“And what’s that?” Alan shot back, his voice rising. “A woman who laughs at the idea of marrying me? Who humiliates me in front of the world? You think I’d ever want to marry someone like you?”

Your hand flew to your chest, as if to shield yourself from the impact of his words. “You bastard,” you said, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and heartbreak. “You’re nothing but a coward, Alan. A scared little man hiding behind his wit and charm, too afraid to admit that he’s just as human as the rest of us.”

Alan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he stepped even closer, his face inches from yours. “Careful,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t want to say something you can’t take back.”

You let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Take back? Oh, don’t worry, Alan. I’ve got nothing to take back. I’ve been nothing but honest with you, but you? You’d rather burn it all down than admit you’re scared of being vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” he barked, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’m not the one who flew across the world for a bloody PR stunt.”

“That’s it,” you snapped, shoving him again, harder this time. “You’re impossible, Alan. You’re so afraid of being hurt, you’d rather destroy everything good in your life before anyone else gets the chance.”

“And you’re a goddamn fool,” he shot back, his voice shaking with rage. “A naïve little girl who thinks love is some fairy tale where everything works out in the end.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice breaking. “You don’t deserve me.”

“And you don’t deserve anyone,” Alan snarled, his hazel eyes blazing. “No wonder every man you’ve ever been with has left you.”

The words hung in the air, a deafening silence following in their wake. You stared at him, your heart shattered into a million pieces, before turning on your heel and walking toward the door.

“Goodbye, Alan,” you said quietly, your voice hollow. “I hope you’re happy with the mess you’ve made.”

You didn’t look back as you slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. But as you walked away, the tears fell harder, and you wondered if you’d ever be able to piece yourself back together.

Alan stood there, staring at the door as it slammed shut, the sound echoing in his empty flat. His chest heaved, his heart pounding against his ribs. His hazel eyes burned, filled with rage and anguish as your parting words replayed in his mind. You still say you love him, you liar. The thought ripped through him, venomous and relentless, eroding what little control he had left.

With a guttural roar, Alan grabbed his coffee cup from the counter and hurled it against the wall. The porcelain shattered on impact, shards scattering across the floor. “Bloody hell!” he cursed, his baritone voice raw and trembling. His fingers raked through his silvered hair, tugging at the roots as he struggled to regain his composure. But the ache in his chest only grew stronger, an unrelenting pressure threatening to crush him.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, his knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the counter. “Calm down, Rickman,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and shaky. “She’s gone. Let her go.”

But as he turned, his hazel eyes landed on your coat, draped carelessly over the back of the armchair. His jaw tightened, his hooked nose flaring in irritation. She can’t even remember her bloody coat, he thought bitterly, the anger bubbling up once more. I don’t want anything from her. Absolutely nothing.

Grabbing the coat with trembling hands, Alan stormed toward the door, determined to rid himself of even this small reminder of you. His strides were long and purposeful as he descended the stairs of his building, his heart hammering with each step. The chill of the London air hit him as he stepped onto the street, but he barely noticed, his hazel eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of you.

It didn’t take long to spot you. You were walking briskly, your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, your shoulders hunched against the cold. Alan’s anger flared again, hot and sharp. She doesn’t even know where she’s going, the idiot.

“[Your Name]!” he called out, his baritone voice cutting through the noise of the street. But you didn’t hear him, your focus fixed straight ahead as you moved toward the crosswalk.

Alan quickened his pace, the coat clutched tightly in his hand. “[Your Name]!” he called again, louder this time, his voice laced with frustration. Still, you didn’t turn around. His heart began to pound for a different reason as he saw you step off the curb, the light still green for oncoming traffic.

“Stop!” he yelled, panic creeping into his voice as his eyes caught the glint of an approaching car. The vehicle sped toward you, its headlights cutting through the early morning gloom. Alan’s breath caught in his throat, his anger dissolving into sheer terror.

“[Your Name]!” he bellowed, his voice breaking as he broke into a sprint. But it was too late.

The car’s tires screeched as the driver slammed on the brakes, but the impact was unavoidable. The sound of metal meeting flesh and bone was sickening, reverberating through the street. You were thrown backward, your body crumpling onto the pavement like a discarded doll.

“No!” Alan’s scream tore from his throat as he reached you, dropping to his knees beside your lifeless form. His hands trembled as they hovered over you, afraid to touch, to confirm the worst. Your eyes were closed, your face pale, and blood pooled beneath your head, staining the asphalt.

“[Your Name],” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “No, no, no. Please, God, no.”

His hazel eyes searched your face desperately, looking for any sign of life. He pressed his fingers to your neck, his own pulse pounding in his ears as he prayed for even the faintest flutter beneath his touch. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Don’t you dare leave me. Not like this.”

The driver of the car had gotten out, shouting frantically for help, but Alan barely registered the commotion around him. His world had narrowed to the space between the two of you, his heart shattering as he cradled your head in his hands.

“Wake up,” he begged, his baritone voice cracking. “Please, [Your Name]. I can’t… I can’t do this without you. I’m sorry. I’m so bloody sorry.”

Tears streamed down his face as he leaned over you, his hooked nose brushing against your temple. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ve always loved you. And I’d marry you in a heartbeat, you stubborn, infuriating woman. Just… just come back to me. Please.”

The sound of sirens grew louder in the distance, but Alan barely heard them. His hands trembled as he stroked your hair, his tears falling onto your face as he whispered your name over and over like a prayer.

And as the paramedics descended upon the scene, Alan clung to you, refusing to let go, his heart breaking with every passing second of silence.

Alan sat hunched in the sterile hospital waiting room, his face pale and drawn, his hands gripping your coat like it was a lifeline. The fabric was soft and smelled faintly of you—lavender and the subtle spice of your perfume—a cruel reminder of the argument that had sent you storming out in the first place. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the tick of the clock on the wall amplifying the deafening silence. His hazel eyes, rimmed red, flicked anxiously to the hallway every time a nurse or doctor passed, his breath hitching with hope, only for it to deflate when they didn’t approach him.

Beside him sat Sarah, your agent, her usually sharp, polished demeanor softened by worry. She glanced at Alan, who looked like a man on the brink of collapse. His fingers were white with the force of his grip on your coat, and his silvered hair fell messily over his forehead.

“Alan,” Sarah began gently, leaning toward him. “You’ve been sitting like this for hours. You need to—”

“I need to wait,” Alan interrupted, his baritone voice raw and thick with emotion. “I need to be here when they tell me something. Anything.”

Sarah sighed, her eyes darting toward the hallway. “She’s strong, Alan. She’ll pull through.”

But Alan shook his head, his jaw tight. “This is my fault,” he said, his voice breaking. “If I hadn’t been such a goddamn idiot, she wouldn’t have been out there. She wouldn’t have—” His words faltered, his hands shaking as he buried his face in your coat. “It’s because of me. All of it.”

“Alan—” Sarah started, but he cut her off, his voice rising, trembling with anguish.

“I fought with her over that bloody interview,” he admitted, his hazel eyes glassy as he lifted his head to meet Sarah’s gaze. “The one where she supposedly laughed about marrying me. I saw it, and I—I didn’t even give her a chance to explain. I lashed out like a fool. So what if she didn’t want to marry me? She wouldn’t want to marry a fucking idiot like me either, would she?” His laugh was bitter, hollow. “I drove her away, Sarah. And now she’s—” He couldn’t finish the sentence, his voice breaking into a harsh whisper.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s enough,” she snapped, her tone cutting through his self-loathing like a whip. “You think wallowing in guilt is going to help her? Grow the hell up, Alan. She loves you, you idiot. She wouldn’t have flown across the goddamn ocean to fix things if she didn’t.”

Alan stared at her, stunned into silence. But before he could respond, Sarah’s phone buzzed on the chair beside her. She snatched it up, her expression shifting as she read the screen. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she muttered, her tone laced with venom.

“What?” Alan asked hoarsely, his gaze locked on her.

Sarah stood, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floor as she paced. “I got access to the real footage of her interview earlier today. The one those bastards butchered to make it look like she was talking about you.” She turned, her hazel eyes blazing with anger. “You want to see how wrong you’ve been, Alan?”

Without waiting for a response, she pulled up the video and handed her phone to him. Alan’s fingers trembled as he took it, his heart pounding as the video began to play. There you were, sitting gracefully in your chair, the radiant smile on your face one he knew so well. The interviewer’s voice was calm, asking about the romantic dynamics of your character in the film.

“Marry him?” you had repeated with a laugh, referring to the villainous character in the movie. “Oh no, not even if I were crazy. Never.”

Alan’s breath hitched as the context became clear. You weren’t talking about him at all. The manipulated video had spliced your words with a fabricated question to create a scandal where there was none. The guilt that had been gnawing at him now felt like a vice tightening around his chest.

“It’s not real,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “She wasn’t talking about me.”

“No, she bloody wasn’t,” Sarah snapped, snatching her phone back. “But you didn’t think to ask her, did you? You just assumed the worst and tore into her like an insecure, selfish prick.”

Alan flinched at her words but didn’t argue. She was right. He had been a selfish prick. The realization hit him like a freight train, and his knees buckled as he sank back into the chair. He buried his face in his hands, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“What do I do now?” he murmured, his voice muffled and broken. “How do I fix this?”

Sarah’s gaze softened, but her tone remained firm. “You start by being there when she wakes up. You apologize, and I mean really apologize, Alan. None of that clever, self-deprecating crap you like to hide behind. You tell her the truth—about everything. And for God’s sake, stop sabotaging yourself.”

Alan nodded slowly, his hands still trembling. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on him, but beneath it was a glimmer of hope. If he could just make it right, if you would let him, he’d do whatever it took.

For now, though, all he could do was wait—and pray that when you woke up, you’d still want to hear him out.

The sound of footsteps snapped both their heads toward the hallway, and a doctor in scrubs appeared, his face calm but serious. Alan and Sarah bolted to their feet, the tension between them palpable as they moved to meet the man.

“How is she?” Alan asked, his baritone voice rough with worry.

The doctor gave a reassuring smile. “She’s stable. She has a few broken ribs and a mild concussion, but there’s no permanent damage. She’s under strong painkillers right now and likely won’t wake up until tomorrow.”

Alan exhaled sharply, the relief almost knocking him off his feet. He slumped back into the chair, his head falling into his hands as the weight of his fear slowly began to lift. “Thank God,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. “She’s tough, Alan. She’ll be fine.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Alan said firmly, his voice brooking no argument as he straightened in his chair.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Are you sure? Don’t you have filming for Gambit tomorrow?”

Alan’s hazel eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation flaring in them. “To hell with filming,” he snapped, his hooked nose flaring slightly. “She’s more important.”

Sarah blinked in surprise before letting out a small sigh. “Fine. But I’ll call your agent. Someone has to smooth things over.”

Alan waved her off, his attention already shifting back to the door leading to your room. “Do whatever you like,” he muttered, his focus solely on you.

Sarah shook her head, muttering something about stubborn men as she left. Alan didn’t care. All that mattered was staying by your side.

The hours dragged on, the sterile hospital room quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Alan sat in the uncomfortable chair beside your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours. The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. Balloons and roses from friends filled the small space, their cheerful colors stark against the clinical white walls.

He hadn’t moved all night, his hazel eyes fixed on your face, searching for any sign of movement. The steady rise and fall of your chest was the only thing keeping him sane.

When you finally stirred, it was almost 2 PM. Alan straightened in his chair, his heart leaping as your eyes fluttered open. For a moment, you blinked groggily, your gaze unfocused as you adjusted to the light. Then your eyes found his, and he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“Who… who are you?” you asked weakly, your voice hoarse but teasingly innocent.

Alan’s heart stopped. His face paled, his hazel eyes widening in panic. “What?” he croaked, his baritone voice trembling. “You—you don’t recognize me?”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, a slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips. “Relax, Alan,” you rasped. “Of course I know who you are. How could I forget a man who growls my name like he’s narrating a bloody BBC documentary?”

The relief that washed over Alan was almost overwhelming. He let out a shaky laugh, his hand covering his face as he shook his head. “You absolute minx,” he muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection. “Don’t scare me like that.”

The teasing smile on your lips faded slightly as you shifted, trying to sit up. Alan’s hands were on you immediately, firm but gentle, pressing you back down against the hospital bed.

“Stop,” he said, his baritone voice both commanding and soft. “You’re not going anywhere. Just calm down.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the ache radiating through your body. “Alan, I’m fine,” you protested weakly, your voice still hoarse. “I can—”

“You can stay put,” he interrupted, his hazel eyes narrowing. “For once, listen to me. You need to rest.”

Your expression softened, and you gave a small nod, though the worry in his eyes made your chest tighten. “What happened?” you asked quietly, your fingers brushing against his where they rested on your arm. “I remember fighting with you, then going out into the street, and… nothing after that.”

Alan inhaled sharply, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he glanced away for a moment, as if to steady himself. When he met your gaze again, his hazel eyes were filled with guilt and pain. “You were hit by a car,” he said, his voice low but steady. “After you left my apartment.”

You blinked at him, processing his words, before a faint, teasing smile tugged at your lips. “A car?” you said lightly. “Are you sure it wasn’t a train? Because it bloody feels like it.”

Alan’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening. “Don’t joke about that,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “Do you have any idea how close I came to losing you?”

The sincerity in his words and the tremor in his voice made your teasing demeanor fade. You reached for his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice earnest. “I didn’t mean to make light of it. I just… didn’t want to see you upset.”

Alan exhaled slowly, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize for that,” he said. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. For everything.”

You frowned slightly, trying to sit up again despite his earlier protests. “Alan—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Let me finish.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the bed as he held your hand tightly. “I was an idiot. No, worse—I was a selfish, insecure prat. I saw that interview and—well, I let my own pain blind me. Instead of listening to you or even giving you a chance to explain, I lashed out. Like a bloody child.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he shook his head, stopping you. “And then Sarah showed me the real footage,” he continued, his hazel eyes filled with self-loathing. “It was all fake. The entire thing was manipulated to make it look like you were talking about me. But you weren’t. You never were.”

His voice cracked slightly, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I should have believed you,” he said, his tone raw. “But instead, I hurt you. I wanted to hurt you because I felt humiliated, and that’s… unforgivable.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you shook your head, your voice trembling. “Alan, it’s not unforgivable. I said things too—things I didn’t mean. I was angry, and—”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, his baritone voice softening. “Whatever you said, I deserved it. All of it. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing gently along the line of his jaw. “Don’t say that,” you whispered. “Don’t you dare say that. I love you, Alan. And yes, you can be a stubborn idiot sometimes, but so can I. We’re human.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly before opening to meet yours. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“And you’re too dramatic,” you teased gently, a soft smile playing on your lips. “But that’s why we work.”

A faint laugh escaped him, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “God help me, I do love you,” he said, his hazel eyes shining with both amusement and adoration.

You smiled, your hand slipping down to rest over his. “Good,” you replied, your voice soft. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

Alan’s lips twitched into a small, self-deprecating smile as he leaned closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, his baritone voice warm and steady.

“And for the record,” you added, your smile turning mischievous, “I would marry you. Even if you’re a stubborn idiot.”

Alan chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. “Careful,” he said, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I might hold you to that too.”

[nqueso-emergency]

Here is the thing:

I think one of the writers’ past mistakes was making Eddie and Buck a duo a bit too much.

Now, please! Let me explain.

This choice was sort of an inevitable one because of the rest of the mains - Chim and Maddie come in a package, and so do Hen and Karen, and Bobby and Athena. Natural, as they are all couples. That left Buck and Eddie from the mains, so in turn that meant that, more often than not, they were paired up. Which in itself works, as they are best friends, but it also backfired on them a little bit.

It’s not as evident with Buck, as he hangs out plenty with other characters, but 90% of Eddie’s time that he doesn’t spend with Chris is either with Buck, or in a minor dosis, Carla. That’s what made Buck and Eddie - BuckandEddie. And why having new LI fit was hard, because they not only had to fit with their LI, but also in a way fit, or work with, the other side of that package. Something even OS has said.

With Ana they didn’t even make an effort - I do believe it was influenced by COVID restrictions, but Buck and her barely had any scenes, and even in S5 it didn’t feel like they knew each other. Buck definitely liked her and wanted the best for her, but it didn’t feel like he was familiar with his best friend’s girlfriend.

With Taylor - I think an attempt was made. But even in S4 Eddie was feeling excluded whenever it was the three of them, and Taylor’s presence felt shoehorned in whenever they were the three of them together. Likewise, Buck had naturally more solo scenes with her, so that put the Buddie friendship to the background a tiny bit, and while it wasn’t horrible, it didn’t completely work.

Natalia, I’m sorry, it’s just - not worth mentioning tbh. I didn’t hate her, but she was Buck’s most undeveloped LI, so there is barely a thing to work with her.

Marisol somehow falls into the same category as Ana. It felt like Buck barely knew her, and I don’t know if it was the direction or acting choices, but during 705 it truly felt like that was one of the first handful of interactions between the two. Which felt a bit weird considering Eddie and her had been together for months at thar point. Regardless - Buddie scenes didn’t go down, really. Yes we do have Eddie neglecting Buck in ep4, but overall, season 7 was really good for their friendship.

So. That brings us to their issue. Where they need a LI that doesn’t feel shoehorned in, but also that can be the other half of one of them for some of the scenes off work (like Madney, Henren, and Bathena). A LI that can be that but doesn’t immediately delete the Buddie friendship.

And my God they’ve made it with Tommy.

People are mad because it was him with Buck off work, but this is the way it was meant to be. Because Buck has found a balance - he hangs with Eddie during work and they show us their friendship is still there, and Eddie can hang out with Buck and Tommy and the scene is, honestly, gold. Tommy doesn’t feel shoehorned in, but a natural addition to them. And of course Buddie can still have their solo friendship scenes - and they will, because Tommy won’t be in every episode with being recurring, and not main.

But they’ve made it so it feels natural for Buck to have him off work (and not Eddie), to have his own SLs outside the friendship and they feel integrated and solid - and to have that same relationship fit into the world and not take away from the main narrative.

It’s just. They’ve solved the problem. They’ve found a partner for Buck that works.

Thank you for letting me ramble, queso ♥️

I do agree with a majority of this!! However, I don't know if it was the writers fault technically because general audience members don't see Eddie and Buck as romantic but, I'm with you on everything else.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Jareth x dreamy reader🔮💭🌌

Part 2

Masquerade ball scene🎭👗💃🔮

(A/n: hello, thought I'd make another part 2. I wanted to make it a bit different from the movie version. Enjoy 😉. Please comment and reblog, helps me alot 💖.)

Requests: open for labyrinth

Part 1 here

You knew where you were going. You were certain. You were the optimist. A dream mixed with sweetness. The definition of a sweet dream.

The environment was clumped with overgrown vines, trees, shrubs, and more stoned walls. Twas another obstacle, something to deter you from the path you went before.

"She'll never make it. She's not even heading in the right direction." Two short, stubby hairy creatures with protruding snouts, identicle to the next observed you sludging through the jungle. One spoke in a high high-pitched accent and the other a deep husk. It was like, similar to that of two young children watching a grown-up waiting for the moment to tell them 'I told you so'.

"She'll end up lost." The high pitch one said.

"Stuck." The low pitch responded.

"Mhm, stuck, that's what I said, stuck."

"You said lost."

"Mhm, stuck, lost, forever and ever."

You ended up reaching a tree, grabbing its vines, clinging to it carefully, not falling into the vines, or the vegetation that over grew even more. You swore they moved. Moving and increasing like snakes to block your path.

The one on the left shook his head, making a tsk sound with his tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, never going to learn."

"No."

"Never going to make it."

"Never."

"Lost."

"Stuck."

"Forever."

"And ever."

Growing frustrated you tried to look for any sort of branch or loose vine that's strong enough to swing you across from the small island with the giant oaken tree to the platform covered in broken, grey, stoned paver's against the concrete slab.

You thought for a moment of jumping in; perhaps that's the only way. You would need all your strength to break through the dense vegetation, but, better than nothing.

"Oooooh, shes going to jump in."

You looked up to see a small creature sitting on a tree branch, wearing medieval scottish garb.

"Jump! Jump! Down ya go!"

"Down, down".

"Thar she goes."

"Into the unkown."

"Where will she stop."

"We won't know."

The two creatures then proceeded to laugh. Thinking there was no other way you paused to speak to them. "Excuse me, but would you please help me to get across."

"Oooh, help ya, quite bold of ya ta ask."

"Help you with such a task."

"To break the rules."

"To help with you to glory, or to your doom."

"Oh, help, help, power, power. The power we hold."

You were getting fed up. You didn't have time to waste for such nonsense. "Please, I don't have much time."

The two gazed at each other and then back at you. They then held up their hands, whispering to each other.

"Ok."

"Very well."

"We will agree to help."

"If you can solve a puzzle."

"Solve a mystery."

"Very well, what's the mystery, what's the riddle." You asked, smiling. You always had fun with these kinds of things. Surely, it's not too difficult of a task.

"Oh, brave, very brave. We will agree to help you."

"If you can figure out—"

"Which."

"Is which."

"Who is knick."

"And who is knack."

"Is he this."

"Or is he that."

They laugh once more.

You had to think for a moment. It seemed obvious for knick to have the higher voice and knack to have the lower. Though, knowing this place, tricks and turns come at every corner. You had to think hard, "well..." the creatures listened intently.

"You must be knick," you pointed to the one with the highest pitch. "And you must be knack." And the same for the lower pitch creature.

They glanced at each other, bewildered. "She—she's right."

"Correct."

"Now we have no choice."

"Help the girl."

"Save her from doom."

You smiled in brightness, you were getting the hang of this. Usually, you weren't the brightest of the bunch, often feeling half witted compared to other work colleagues or strangers that speak to you as if they had any idea of what you mean.

"Yes, now, will you please help me?" she said gently to the creatures with kindness.

"Very well." Knack hopped down from the tree as the other did the same. "Nnn, ok, let's see here, oh yes, just a twist and a snap, nnn," he muttered to himself. "Knick, where was tha spot again."

"Spot?"

"Aye, the spot, you know, tis a tap, one, two three."

Knick hopped down from the tree, looking like he hasn't slept in ages. He groaned getting up "errr let's see here, was it here, err no, no t'wasn't."

"Aha!, I found it." He stood at the edge of the small mount. "Give it ere, y'know, the ol' knock." Knick held out his hand for the long stick, that actually resembled a small staff.

"The ol'clock" he said.

"The ol'knock?" You questioned.

"Mhm, that's what I said the ol' knock."

"You said ol'clock" you mentioned.

"Mhm, that's what I said the ol' knock." Knack handed knick the staff.

Knick stuck the staff inside the hole. "mhm, there it is."

"Knew it was there."

"You were close."

"Very."

"Best stand back." You and knack took a step back expecting something rather big and tremendous.

He then started hitting the ground thrice, precisely three seconds in between. And—as you waited—

Nothing. Nothing happened.

"That was it" Knack said slightly disappointed. "Must be more to it then that."

"Give er a minute." Knick said, repeating the same movement once more.

All of a sudden, the ground began to quake. The vine's, roots, and vegetation slithered away. Creating a pathway for you to cross.

Knack posed with the stick expecting a 'thank you' of sorts.

"It's clear." You said thankful.

"Pathway m'lady." Knick proudly spoke.

"Always a boaster aren't you." Knack clicked his tongue tsk-ing at knick.

"Thank you both." You said walked along the gravel like path with mis matched grey stone pavers.

You felt confident, all you needed to do now was pass through the goblin city and get to the castle where you can find the king and return to your normal life, redeeming your wish, taking it back.

The two creatures waved at you as you looked smug, however, in that moment—something went wrong.

The floor beneath you began to crumble, creating a hole you fell through. "Woa!" You screamed.

The creatures staring unphased spoke. "Now, knick, did you remind her of the hole there."

"Don't beileve so."

"Well, she's well on her way to her doom now."

"Never to return."

"Never to come back."

"Trapped."

"Lost."

"Stuck."

"Forever."

"And ever."

"Mhm that's what I said lost, stuck, forever and ever."

They then started to laugh from the mounted island with the giant oaken tree.

-------

You slid down to what almost felt like a water slide, dirt and mud covered your clothes as you screamed. Turning, twisting and speeding down the slippery rabbit hole.

Eventually, you landed in a place that seemed rather empty, dark, and voided of any life. To your astonishment, a wooden stave dripped in tar lit on fire. So the king was playing fair—for now.

You grabbed the wooden stave, expecting it to disappear as you touched it—assuming it was another illusionary trick.

You wandered through the mysterious catacomb, believing it was an old city from another time. You took a moment to glance around at the structures; you were fascinated.

They seemed old, ancient, as if structured from inspiration from another city like Atlantis, Egypt, Greece, Rome pompeii, before the doom.

You trailed on for what seemed like hours, or rather perhaps twenty minutes. That was until you stumbled upon a structure, a structure that resembled an old standing mirror. The outer rim was decored in ornated wood and silver, and patterns of fairytails surrounded it. You couldn't help but run your hands down the side of it. Although, seemingly, some of these patterns resembled small items sparking old memories throughout your life. He wasn't kidding when he claimed he knew you better.

The glass of the mirrors reflection suddenly started to shift. Within the reflection, an illusion played out, like something that only happened in movies. You watched closely. It showed a room of white with sparkling glitter falling along with huge bubble like crystals floated around.

You were hypnotised. Entranced. Many of the women and men donned in different vibrant colours of frock coats, sack-back gowns, and masks resembling different animals.

Curious, your finger lifted to the mirror. Your finger push through the mirrors glass like liquid. Like moving water. You pulled your finger out, afraid and bewildered.

Looking closer, the men and women that danced in the costumes all waltzed; laughing, chattering and singing. Somehow, it drew you in, you always loved the ball scenes in movies.

This seems too familiar, somehow, like wasn't this from the movie. The part where she lost track of time, memory and herself.

Hesitantly, you looked behind the mirror. Nothing. And it seemed the only way through this was through the ornated wooden, silver mirror.

Shaking your head, you pushed through, taking a deep breath and holding it. It was quick. Like a flash. Your body felt a cold wetness for a second, and the next, you opened your eyes.

You wandered through, astounded beyond belief of the whole setting. You could hear singing and like in a trance, you began to loose your train of thought. As your eyes glanced down, you wore formal attire that seemed way too otherworldly or perhaps something you remembered wearing once before.

You traversed through the venetian masquerade ball. Many of the men and women, laughing your way as you passed. They seemed unphased by your presence. You turned and spun slowly trying take in your surroundings, trying not to lose touch with reality.

Oh, but how far you've already drifted from it.

You fidgeted with an item of yours that was close to you. Each moment, each time you moved closer, the more you started to forget, lose train of thought. Becoming one within the world of daydreams.

Oh y/n, you're already losing. You just don't know it yet.

Your vision became a sudden blur as suddenly you even forgot your name. You listened to the sound of the music, as many danced around you. Was, was this your purpose. Yes. This must be why you're here. To dance. To dream. To dance and dream. To be here. Forever.

Oh, you poor, callow minded creature, I've already won. You'll remain here forever. You've lost your innocence. You'll never see your dear ones again. You'll never go back. Forget about your home, the ones you hold so dear, dreams of realism, and live forever within a dream of our own.

You began to sway, having no little reason to believe this was your purpose. You moved fluently, dancing to yourself. Moving your arms and gracefully swaying your legs. Stepping in a glide to fit in with the crowd. Wasn't this what you wanted. To fit in when no one understands you. Now they can, here, where you can be safe and sound. Where no one can judge you and your free to be someone.

To be yourself. To live within your fantasises.

As you heard the sound of the gentle music sing. You spun and spun, feeling the reality drain away. Feeling happy. Free. Joy. Love.

Suddenly, you stopped in someone's tracks, and you delicately held your arms beside you. Dreamily looking up. He stood there. A man that felt familiar but you couldn't grasp the name of.

He wore a glittery, deep, blue frockcoat with an ornated cravert attached to a white poet linen blouse beneath. Without a word, you stood back, gripping the fabric of your attire. You didn't trust him. He seemed. Evil? No, not exactly the correct words but—

Evil, well that's a bit far-fetched, don't you think.

The mysterious man held an odd venetian mask to his face attached to an ornated handle. The horns from the mask somewhat made you curious. You shouldn't approach. However, he held out his hand covered in a white glove.

Your hand hovered over his. However, you continued to dance, dismissing him. You spun and turned. Locked in a daydream.

Much to his annoyance, he tried to garner your attention. As you danced, many of the ladies and gents laughed and tried to offer their hand. Purposefully trying to block your path to guide you back to the mysterious man.

However, you simply drifted past them. Elegantly frolicking past the crowd. You felt free.

Careful y/n, look, their eyes are gazing upon you. Their judging your actions.

You continued to joyously spin and turn, kicking your leg in the air as you moved freely, ignoring the voice.

The mysterious man glanced with impatience. Surely this was supposed to happen, yet—he wanted something more...

He attempted to grasp you, following your movements. Yet, to no avail could he hold your attention. It was agitating. You were an irritating creature.

Only until did he take a step, you stopped in front of him. Stuck in a daze. He glanced directly at you. Looking into your eyes. His mouth slightly parted, showing a mixture of tantalisation and pique.

You moved to glide around the dance room. He couldn't control you. He trapped you. Yet. He couldn't grasp you. You were a dream, he couldn't touch.

Eventually you stopped at the mirror, the same one you entered. You took a look at yourself dreamily. You could see an illusion, the illusion of yourself in the reflection of the glass but—wearing different clothes—Were those what you wore previously. Was that you? Didn't you have a purpose? You were here for something?

City? To get to the city? To meet the ki—

You gasped as someone gently touched your shoulder. Looking up, it was the same mysterious man whoms voice sounded familiar. "Oh dear, daydreaming again are you." He said in a mysterious, mystical tone.

"The—mirror—I saw?" You looked back.

"And that was." He grasped both your shoulders, prompting you to take a closer look. "I think you should look again, carefully this time. Look deeply within the mirrors reflection y/n."

You looked once more in the mirror's reflection, seeing nothing but the reflecting dream. "I-i beileve I saw—"

"A dream y/n, you saw. A. Dream." He spoke, concluded. "Dreams. Oh, what's that? " You laughed, smiling.

"Illusion." He smiled back in response. "Would you like me to show you." He guided your gaze back to the mirror. You saw yourself but, wearing different clothes. You watched as many people you thought you knew speak ill of you. Your loved ones resuming their normal lives without you and flashes of words you remembered that made your heart ache. You turned to him, tears streaking down your face. As though you were confused, not knowing why and yet feeling the pain washed over you.

"What. What is this." You say watching it. It felt so real.

"This is your reality y/n, this is what's real."

You wanted to take it all away. You wanted to imagine again. "If this is reality, I do not want it, take it away—please"

"Of course, you can, look." In the mirror you saw, yourself, in royal attire, that fitted only you. The style formed from a balance of your imagination and dreams. You saw yourself spinning forever smiling, not existing in that horrid illusion he showed.

"You can remain here with me. They won't mind. you're free here y/n. Free to do whatever you oh so desire." He offered his hand out to you.

Taking it out of curiosity. He smiled. He will keep you here, until time runs out. Forever making you his. A dream within his world.

He glided you across the room, as you danced in unison. Twirling, spinning, gliding, turning, dancing—to remain here. Forever.

Dancing with this mystical stranger felt right and—wrong. As he spun you, smiling. You were trying to remember something. A flicker of a memory, something within your mind. "City?"

To feel safe.

"Wasn't there a city, somewhere."

You need to feel free.

Y/n.

"There's a city I must go to."

Stay with me.

"I'm certain."

I'm your haven.

"To."

Your my dream.

"To go beyond, the walls of the—GOBLIN CITY! THE CASTLE!"

Your eyes flickered as if you awoke from the spell. You broke away, pushing him. You grabbed the fabric of your attire trying to run. In that moment, the guests were trying to surround you, to block you once more. You pushed and shoved them, rushing toward the mirror from which you came. The mysterious figure you recalled felt familiar, turned out, to be the king himself. Of course, he was tricking you. To make you lose yourself, to steal time away in order to make you forget, so you would lose.

That's why you remembered that scene in particular, oh how foolish you felt—but—you broke the spell.

The king, in frustration, grasped a crystal ball from thin air. Throwing it toward you. Showing all your greatest fears and wounds in a mass of shadow. As your eyes widened, you grabbed a chair, breaking the surface of the mirror's protective seal. You jumped through the liquid. Almost in an instant, you felt yourself falling, floating. To a near trash heap, only you describe it as a literal dump.

You held your hand to your head. As though you had a pounding headache. Once you realise your surroundings and gather your barings. You looked down, seeing the elegant attire you wore in the dream, a torn, trashed garbage piece. Suppose it was still clothing. Much to your annoyance. You sneer in disgust. He practically just dressed you in an illusionary trick.

You were sick of this, yet, you were thrilled. You loved the excitement of that dream, waking up. Now you were more determined more then ever to take back your wish and finish this off.

You trudged off through the trash pile, to the goblin castle beyond the goblin city.

Perhaps, you might even ask if he could return your clothes too.

[queenshelby]

The Price for Fame (Part Two)

Pairing: Dark!Cillian Murphy x Innocent!Reader

Warning: Manipulation, Infidelity, Smut, Dub-Con, Age-Gap, Cillian is being a bully in this one. It's pure filth.

Three days later, on set, with tension running high, you found yourself back in Cillian's trailer again for another meeting. 

You had screwed up a few scenes, unable to concentrate on your performance due to the mental anguish from the arrangement you had in place with Cillian despite the fact thar you were engaged to a good catholic man.

"I am sorry, I am just having troubles focusing," you told him as soon as you sat foot in his trailer, looking at Cillian with a mixture of shame and frustration in your eyes. You knew that he was upset and that you were in for a lecture after the director had complained about your performance once again. 

"Close the door behind you," was all he said before leaning back in his chair a

You did as you were told and took a seat opposite him, your hands splayed nervously on your lap. 

"It's not like me to mess up my lines like this, honestly, it's just ... I don't know," you began, trying to explain your uncharacteristic lack of focus.

"Like I said, we need to address this urgently. I can't afford to not deliver on this movie, and you really need to pull yourself together Y/N,"  Cillian lectured, his eyes burning holes into you as if trying to force his indignation into your soul.

While part of you wanted to argue, to defend yourself, another part of you just shyly nodded, shrinking beneath his disapproving gaze.

"Yes, I'm really sorry, I just... I don't know. I can't seem to shake this lately," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Listen, Y/N, I have half a mind to re-cast your role. I can't have you so unfocused and distracted when we're shooting such crucial scenes."

You looked at him, eyes wide with shock. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You had dedicated so much time and energy to this role. You had even slept with him twice and now he was threatening to take it all away from you? The thought of losing your part in this film brought you to the brink of tears.

"Please, Cillian," you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. "I swear I'll do better. I just need some time to get myself back together."

Cillian leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours. "You have one week," he said, his tone stern. "One week to prove that you can focus and deliver a decent performance, or I'm replacing you."

You nodded frantically, feeling a mix of relief and desperation wash over you. You would do anything to keep your role in this film, even if it meant fighting through your personal struggles.

"Thank you Cillian ," you whispered, your shoulders slumping in exhaustion before you got up from your seat, causing him to shake his head.

"Don't leave just yet Y/N," he spoke gruffly, his tone dripping with need. You looked at him questioningly, your mind still spinning with the impending deadline.

"Come here and show me how thankful you are for this chance," Cillian demanded while suggestively unbuckling his belt.

"Please, Cillian. My fiancé is coming to visit me tonight. I can't do this," you pleaded with him, your desperation turning to panic.

Cillian chuckled before standing up from his seat and stalking towards you.

You backed away, your heart pounding in your chest as Cillian approached. But there was nowhere for you to go in the small trailer. He quickly closed the gap between you, pinning you against the wall.

"Do you want to keep your role in this movie?" he hissed in your ear, his warm breath causing you to shudder.

"Yes, yes, I do!" you stammered just before Cillian unzipped his jeans and freed his lengthy cock.

"Then prove it," he said, prompting you and, with your hands still shaking, you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard shaft. 

Cillian's hands roamed your body, gently but forcefully, leaving no doubt that this was a sexually charged encounter. His large hands gripped your waist as he directed your own hand, guiding you to stroke his cock rhythmically.

You could feel his cock growing harder and thicker with every pump of your delicate hand.

"Good girl. Now get down on your knees," Cillian ordered you and you complied, hesitantly kneeling before him. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your mind was racing with a mix of fear and guilt.

Feeling nauseous, you took a deep breath and stared at Cillian's cock which was already fully erect, dripping with pre-cum.

"Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue," Cillian demanded, his voice commanding and unyielding.

Reluctantly, you obeyed and stuck out your tongue, completely humiliated and submissive. Cillian smeared his pre-cum on your tongue with his finger, making you shudder with disgust.

"Hmm , good girl," he said, before he pushed his cock into your mouth, filling your mouth and throat, causing you to gag instantly. You tried to pull away, but Cillian gripped your hair tightly, preventing any escape.

"No, no, no. You're going to make me cum with that pretty little mouth of yours. Keep sucking it like a good little girl," Cillian moaned as he pushed himself deeper into your throat. The feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat and the taste of his pre-cum was nauseating and arousing at the same time while Cillian's grip on your hair kept you from pulling away.

Tears streamed down your cheeks and trickled down your neck as you tried to take slow, shallow breaths. You could feel yourself starting to gag on his cock, but Cillian's hold on your hair tightened, and he kept pushing further down your throat.

"That's it. Keep sucking. That's it. Swallow it all, baby," he whispered lewdly as he grabbed your head, pulling you down onto his cock more roughly.

You gagged again, your throat constricting around his thick shaft. Cillian, sensing your discomfort, slowed down, pumping in and out of your mouth more leisurely, giving you time to adjust.

As he continued, his movements became faster, his guts churning in anticipation of orgasm. 

" Fuck, you're getting better at this," he grunted, his tone strained with pleasure. You could feel his balls tighten, signalling that he was close to releasing.

"You are going to swallow every drop of my cum, aren't you Y/N?" Cillian asked, clearly enjoying the dominance he was exerting on you and the thought of swallowing his seed made you feel sick.  But you knew it was the price you had to pay if you wanted to keep your job so you nodded, meekly and obediently.

"Good girl," Cillian cooed as he began to thrust his hips more frantically, pumping in and out of your mouth. Before long, he let out a deep groan, his cock pulsing as he erupted inside of your mouth.

You could taste his bitter semen on your tongue, feeling it slide down your throat. You tried to swallow it as quickly as possible, not wanting to linger on the taste and texture.

Cillian finally pulled out of your mouth, a sated grin on his face. He tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped them up before sitting back down in his chair. "That was good," he said simply, leaving you kneeling on his floor with tears streaming down your face. "You can get up now," he added, not even bothering to apologize for what he had just done.

You slowly got to your feet, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The taste  of Cillian's semen was still lingering on your tongue, making you feel even more disgusted with yourself.

"I need to go," you murmured quietly, your voice hoarse from the recent forced oral.

Cillian just nodded, a smug grin on his face. "Sure thing, but I want to see you again tonight, just before you see your fiancé," he said, not even bothering to look at you as you made your way to the door.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of shame and anger as you stepped out of his trailer, the door slamming shut behind you.

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[yuyu1024]

Kiss Me

Pairings: Mingi × y/n

Genre/tags: first time, college au

Warning: 🔞 fluff, smut/angst, sensual touching, dry humping, cursing, unprotected sex, kink/fetish, chubby y/n or reader, insecurities, finger fuck [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.8k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: repost. Check pinned post for more ♥️

Likes and reblogs are much appreciared

***

Being a broke af student, living on a minimal school allowance that does not include school projects and other necessities in life because you are not rich, means you need to find a side hussle. You need extra income. You need to work your butt off besides studying. But what sucks is having an ugly ass schedule thar can't allow you to find or even try a part time job in a random cafe or store outside campus.

Luckily, a classmate of your suggested tutoring. Easy peasy. You just need to help a student that lives a life with a golden spoon and help them get good enough gradea to survive. That could work. You can plan and make it work! Easy money right?

But what you didn't expect is this side hussle, have more to give and offer you.

Mingi. A member of the university's soccer team. One of the top players in the team actually. A heartthrob who have the bad boy crush image that girls likes nowadays. A member of the music club and also part of the student council committee.

A good student with a good reputation and a decent grade. He is the one you will be tutoring.

Odd right? And why?

At first you thought it was some kind of sick joke since usually, the kids who have it all and looks like can get away with everything likes to play games and tease the other ones who can't fight back or don't have the means to even make a scene with them. Like you. An ordinary, chubby, wallflower and a nobody.

That's why you are very confused and on high alert why, he, Mingi, requested for you to tutor him. He does not even need it. Your friend said that the moment she posted your flyers on the board, Mingi was the first one to see it and asked details about it. He even said to take the other posters down as he will be needing you to tutor him, full time. Weird.

Yes, weird. And yet you accepted it. You have no choice. You needed the money. And it's one heck of a money.

Also, it's not bad being around him after all.

"You're late." He says the second you step foot in the lockers room of the soccer team. He's bend down, sitting on a metal bench and tying his shoe laces.

"Sorry... I fell asleep in the library while reading..." you answer

He grunts standing up then picking up his bag. "I told you... you can watch me play while you wait."

"Ahm... I can't."

His brows wrinkled. "Why?"

"I can't concentrate... plus... it's usually the fans that are present watching."

"So you are saying, you are not a fan?"

You look away. "I don't know anything about soccer... nor any sports... sorry."

He snorts a laugh. "Whatever. Let's go."

Mingi. Tall, gorgeous, masculine, thick and very charming. He is the guy you are spending your whole afternoon 'till evening with.

He is the guy who is paying you to spend time with him. Not to tutor him per say but to give him his 'needs'. A companion that helps him satisfy. It's fucked up but it sort of feels good especially being a short chubby not attractive and a nobody girl. You may not have the confidence for the outside world but within the walls of his apartment, you are the most beautiful girl and the only person that could make him drop on his knees and beg you to have him.

You are not dating him. You are not fucking him either. You are just letting him have your body, touch you, cuddle, gaze at you and etc. Just providing him what he needs for his kinks or fetish.

***

"I'm so fucking tired!" He drops onto the L shaped sofa, face down.

You cautiously remove your shoes putting them in place and then follow him to his living room.

"You cleaned?" You ask, stopping and standing at the end of sofa.

"Not me... one of our maids visited and cleaned this morning... I had to call for help."

"Oh... I see..."

He then abrupty gets up, leans his back finding a comfy position and gazes at you. "What are you doing there standing?"

"Hmm?"

"You should be here..." he taps both his thighs pertaining for you to sit on his lap. "I'm craving for your boobs since last week..."

Craving. A word that you never thought that would an attribute to you.

"Come here..." he repeats. His voice is softer this time but still his voice is deep and came from his chest.

You do as he says. You sit down on his lap, back facing him and just let him back hug you.

He inhales your scent. His hands caging you in and caressing you at the same time.

It's been 4 months now since you've been "tutoring" him. It started as a weekly session and it turned to being a one text away kind of deal. The more he sees you, the more money.

This is a gamble of life but what can you do? He also said, you've been helping him a lot with his stress and relaxing him every after practice. So you feel like you really are actually helping him not just getting paid to be touched and make him feel aroused. 

His head leaning on your back while his hands travel from your thighs to your chest area.

"Your boobs...are so fucking... sexy..." he squeez them both. Kneading them. He knows you like it when he does that. It's an erotic sensation you like and it turns you on and makes you squirm under his touch. "Do you like it? Me doing this?" He asks even though he already knows the answer. Your n!pples are already hard and he can feel it.

You slightly push your ass back, arching your back, head thrown at his shoulder,  letting him know you are enjoying what he's doing. "You know I do." You exhale the words like a sigh of relief.

"You've been busy... We haven't cuddled in awhile." He whispers into your ears.

"A ton of homeworks... and...ahhh..." you moan as you feel his warm tongue touch back of your ear.

"And...?" He is teasing you and you like it. "C'mon... tell me about your week..."

"Ahh!" You cry as his hands spreads your legs apart and dives into your linen pants. "M-mingi..." your body jerks at every circular motion he does. "Oh... fuck." Even holding onto his arms for support.

It's too much but it's too good.

"I like it when you cry my name..." he whispers. "Say it again... scream it..."

He pushes another digit in you. "Ah!" You squeal at the sensation. He's really going deep this time.

"C'mon... say it." He begins to kiss you neck softly as his fingers wreckes you into pieces.

"M-mingi! Oh! Fuck! Ah! Mingi!" You arch your back, hands grabbing onto his nap. Tears then fills up your eyes as you look up to him, watching you melt under his touch. "Aaahhh...!"

"Is it good?" He asks, wearing a smirk

You nod. You are really crying now.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asks, "You know our safe word... just say it.."

"N-no... no..." you cry, eyes is still intact with his

"What do you want then, baby girl?" He picks up his beat. In and out. Touching every wall in you, just with his fingers.

"A k-kiss..." your body is shaking now. "Please..."

A kiss. You two have never kissed before. Besides the touching, the dry humping, the handjob and f!inger. You two never done anything more than that. In short things a couple or one night stands do. Make out and have sex. Odd but that was his rule.

He said, no kissing and sex for you. His reason is because you have never experience it yet. He said, he wants you to experience your first kiss and first sex to the person you love. Not him. He wants it to be memorable for you.

And you agreed since, you never dated anyone before and have no fucking experience with love.

He knows that your deal might have tarnished your innocence already because of the things you have done but he keeps his promises when it comes to limit.

Funny enough, even though he f!nger fucks you and you give him handjobs, you have never seen each other naked. He really knows the bounderies and trying to save a few part of your innocent life.

But, like as mentioned. This thing between you two have been going on for four months now. And since then, you've eventually started to like him. You are not sure how serious but for now, you label it as a crush or desire since its all about the horny emotions you feel whenever he's around.

"Baby girl... you know we can't do that." He nuzzles his nose to your cheek.

You unintentionally close your legs as you reach your climax. "Ah!!"

"Scream for me, baby girl." He snarls

And you did. You came. You came really hard and a lot that it didn't just drained your energy but also ruined your pants.

"So fucking sexy." He hisses as he caress you cheeks and kisses you on top of your head.

That was amazing. That was bigger than the previous ones.

You thought you'd get immune with his skills but you're wrong. Mingi knows how to touch you and make you feel good. He knows the spot to hit. He knows his effect on you. He knows your body.

But how come, after melting into his hands today, you don't feel a hundred percent happy and relieved. The f!nger fuck IS GOOD however, you need more. You know you need more. You know you want more. Even though you know he could not give it to you.

***

After showering and getting into a new set of clothes you started getting ready to leave.

"Where are you going?" Mingi asks emerging from the kitchen

"Going home." You answer. Not making eye contact with him, pretending to search for something in your bag.

"But it's friday."

Friday. This is the only day in your schedules that match perfectly. Both classes and practice ends early and no school tomorrow except Mingi's training in the afternoon.

Usually friday, you stay over. The cuddling part of the deal. He likes to sleep with you.

"Sorry..." you mumble. "I can't today..."

"Why?" His face shows his disappointment.

You then notice the tray he's holding. He made you a sandwich and made you a smoothie to drink.

Mingi do have a bad boy image at school. An image where he looks like he does not give a fuck. But when you two are together, he is different. He is someone you would like in real life. Someone you really want to be in your life.

But fuck that. He can't be that someone for you. He's just paying you.

And because of these, these thoughts in your mind right now, the reason you can't stay for tonight. You might fall even more or hurt yourself. You already hurt your own feelings earlier when he rejected your request for a kiss. That rejection made you feel unworthy.

From 'He can't kiss you because of your deal, to save it for your first love' to 'He can't kiss you because you are not his type.'

"Y/n..." he calls your name after not hearing an answer

"I just need to..." you are stuttering. You can't make up a lie.

"Need to what?" He puts the tray on a table somewhere and charges towards you.

But he halts the second your phone rings.

"San...?" You answer the call.

Your eyes shifts from his feet to his face.  Mingi is not liking what's going on.

"Yeah... I did emailed you the report... yes... yes... I've edited it...mhm...mhm..."

You are just answering San's questions about your project together but why does it feel like you are cheating and Mingi is not happy.

"Later?" You got surprised by San asking you to meet up. "What cafe?" You ask him

However, before San could respond to you, Mingi snatched your phone away and turned it off.

"You said you can't stay here... without giving me a reason... yet. But then here you are making fucking plans to meet a guy in a cafe. At night time?"

He really looked pissed.

You look away, lower your head and just blantly answer him. "Because you rejected me."

"What?"

You take your phone back from his hand and put it in your bag. "You rejected me... when I asked you to kiss me."

"Y/n..  you know our--"

"I know." You sigh heavily. "I'm sorry..."

"You don't have to... it's okay..."

"No... it's not okay." You look at him in the eyes. "I wanted that kiss. I want it so bad. But I know my position... I know you can't coz'..." you can't even dare to say it yourself. To insult your appearance. "I'm sorry..." you slip your bag on your shoulders and add, "Maybe you should not pay me for this week... since we only met once... I mean... today... and I did went over the line earlier... asking for a kiss."

"What? I don't understand... Y/n... wha--" he looks so confused.

You try to smile. To reassure him that everything is okay and that this is nothing (even though its everything). "Don't worry... I'll be more available next week... I just need tonight by myself... yeah... just... that..."

You are basically saying gibberish now. You are as confused as him and not understanding the situation as him.

You start to walk towards the door when all of a sudden he pulls you back in, almost tripping.

"Stay." He says

"I.. I can't."

"Why?"

"I..  I just told you... I... can't."

"That's not a reason."

"Mingi... please..."

"Stay." He repears. "Please... y/n... stay."

"No..." You turn around.

Then in a second he forcefully takes you and carries you. You are chubby but he's strong and thick. He could really carry you.

"Mingi!" You yelp as he throws you over his shoulder. "What the fuck!?"

He throws you on his bed and climbs on top of you like he's going to murd3r you.

"What are you doing?"

"Making you stay..." he hums the words close to your face. "Giving you... what you want..."

"M-mingi...?"

You are stunned when you suddenly see him take his hoodie and shirt off in one go.

"W-what are y-you doing?"

"What I should've done months ago."

"Wha--"

He shuts your mouth by giving you the kiss you've been dreaming off. The kiss that you're always curious what it would taste and feel like. A kiss from the most beautiful soft and plump lips you've ever seen in your life.

"Fuck." He hisses as he pulls away to take a breather. "Are you sure you've never kissed anyone before?"

"W-why?"

He licks his lips and then lowers his body on you. "Coz... You're making me drool just by kissing you..."

He crashes his lips to yours again and this time he makes sure that you are the one getting the best experience. Moaning at every lick and suck of tongues. And making sure your first kiss is something to remember forever.

"Mingi..." you moan his name.

"Yes, baby girl?" He asks as he trails more kisses on your finger tips.

"Why? Why did you kiss me? After rejecting me earlier..."

"Because you're leaving me... you can't leave me just like that Y/n..."

"You kissed me... just because of that?"

"Not just that..." he goes to lay down beside you and craddle you in his arm. "I want to confirm something..."

"Confirm what?"

"My feelings... for you."

You blink multiple times before your brain processed what he just said.

"Baby girl.. can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Don't ever... talk to any other guys... without me knowing... I don't want any other guy creeping around you..." his hand slides in your blouse and in your bra. "You're my baby girl... understood? Mine only... okay?" He pinches your n!pple making you scream Yes. "Good girl... my y/n..."

That was just it. You're relationshio with Mingi started weirdly and bloomed into something more. Still in a unconditional way.

"I'm your baby girl." You answer and then sealing it off with a kiss.

[emmastarr999]

So I was thinking about the "I'm a demon. I lied" line. Because it's easy to remember the "just an angel/demon that goes alone with heaven/hell as much as he can" parallel, but there's another line that gets repeated twice in the minisode, right?

And the thing that got me thinking is, the first time, well, it wasnt true. When they meet Job's children and Crowley goes "Im here to destrroooyy you all" (10/10 delievery would watch again) and Aziraphale is all "but you said you wouldnt kill them!" and Crowley delievers the first "I'm a demon, I lied" line.... he doesnt kill the kids. He hasnt been lying.

So later on, when Aziraphale confronts him about the lonely line, and Crowley admits to having lied about not being lonely... What if that, too, wasnt exactly a lie?

One thing that didnt sit right for me, with all this talk about lying, is that season 1 Crowley made a point of never having lied to Aziraphale. I cannot exacly remember the line but it was something like "when have I ever lied to you?" and Aziraphale went all "well you are a demon it's in the job description" and Crowley brushed it off with a "well im not lying" and they kept on talking about the hellhound. But Crowley is not a liar: on the contrary, season 1 heavily played with the subversion trope of the angel that lied (I dont know where the antichrist is, Crowley, I dont even like you, Crowley) and the demon who was honest, direct, even trusting.

I get that this wasnt to be taken so literally, and things can have different levels of meaning, but the focus that they put on the lying part is intentional, so that took me back to the original point: what if Crowley, in the Job minisode, hadnt been lying at all?

The thing is, when he almost killed the kids, at first he wanted Aziraphale to believe him. He wanted for Aziraphale to take him seriously as a demon, to frighten him a bit, and he wanted to prove him wrong, to some extent. See, you dont really know me. See, Im not the angel you mentioned before. But at the end of the day, it was a mask. Crowley hadnt lied.

So what about the lonely part? Aziraphale thought he was going to hell, and Crowley swore to not tell anyone. Some could argue it was the first time Crowley actually saved him. Ans then they kept talking.

Now, picture this: you are a demon, who is different from all the other demons, and pretty soon you decided to create your own side, so to speak. You meet this gorgeous angel who gave away his sword and is kind to you and you think that maybe, you know, maybe. Then you meet him again before the flood and you think that you must have been wrong, that he is actually just like the rest of them, because how could he stand there and watch God kill all those people? All those kids? So you truly are alone. But then. But then. Then you see him again and he talk about saving Job's kids, he wants you to go against God's plan, and he eats something that you offer him, and you talk, and you think yes, this one, this one.

That night, when he tells Aziraphale that he is "just a demon that goes along with hell as much as he can", and Aziraphale asks him if he is lonely, Crowley doesnt really have to lie.

And then, on thar bench, in the most absurdly beautiful scene ever conceived, Aziraphale is so distressed when Crowley tells him that he is "an angel who goes along with heaven as much as he can" (basically saying that they are on their own side for the first time but its fine I dont have any strong feeling on this topic or anything).

But Aziraphale looks so sad.

And its clear that its far too early for any of those talks, that Aziraphale is still brainwashed and they have spoken for a total of maybe 4 times in a millennia, so Crowley retreats. And he goes back to the lonely line.

But when he said that he wasnt lonely, he wasnt lying. He has never lied to Aziraphale, back from the beginning.

So that's it, tell me what you think about it! I may be getting it wrong but its been buggering me for a while, and I'd love to hear your opinion on this!

[sleepy3012]

A Hello Neighbor Au: I'm a bad girl?

Summary: Maritza joins the cult for a reason.

(Sorry 4 the bad grammer😔)

Suggested by: @cacciocavalloblu

The present: ......."Its dark, cold, and I hear the police arive at the scene of the murder...I watch from behind a tree as they take Mr. Peterson's body away....what have I done"

Three Days ago: I walk down the school halls wanting to go home but can't. As I get to the water fountain I hear my name being called from the anoucement intercon.

"Maritza Espacito please report to my office IDMEDATLY" 'It was Principal Abanate, But why would she call me to her office?' I think to myself.

On my way to her office random thoughts come inside my head 'What did I do? Did she find out I punched delroy...No that was a joke, Or that i threw my lunch at Finch beacuse she was bullying Nicky again? Or maybe she knows about how a fought with Trinity for putting my brother in Danger?'

Whatever it was I felt my heart racing as fast as a racing car. When I finally got to Abanate's office...I take a deep breath...and walk in.

"Oh...why hello Maritza...here take a seat" she says to me with a warm smile but somewhere in my mind tells me thats not a real smile.

"So? Why am I here Mrs. Abanate.. whatever it is I didnt do it." I say as my hands start to shake, 'God i hate when this happens' I think to myself.

Mrs. Abanate just sits there for a minute then stands up to walk around me in circles which starts to make me Even MORE nervous then....she stops and whsipers to me....

"Your a Dirty.Nasty.Evil.Rat" she says in the most meanest way possible.

I think to myself 'DID I JUST HEAR HER SAY WHAT I THINK SHE SAID?'

"W...wha-?" I say as the words spin around my head.

"Yes...you heard me, you are a evil rat...your a bad girl Maritza and you know it...Dont you?

I dont respond to her

She raises her voice "Anwser ME young lady tell me weatheir not you Know that you are a BAD person."

"I ...I....I DONT KNOW?!" I say in fear

I feel my anger and giult raise in me I really feel like punching her but that will just make things more worst.

"Oh....But you do know...your a nasty little girl who just acts brave towards others.

"NO!" I scream "YOU DONT KNOW THAT, YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT M-" I was then cut off by Mrs. Abanate.

"Maritza I know alot about you...All you do is betray and betray...to keep your parents safe...and your brother...you do it to keep him safe dont you?" She says in a soft tone.

"But-" I dont get a chance to finish

"No Buts...you know your a bad person..a bad girl...and you little friends might figure thar out soon..wont they..arnt you tried of your little friend Trinity of dragging your brother into stuff?" She says.

I start to remember what Trinity did to my brother...she almost had gotten him killed!

"Y...yeah...I i'm tired..of that." I say in deafet.

"Then join me and the rest of our cult...then you can protect...the people you care about..and you will never have to worry about trinity dragging your brother into any of our dangers...what do you think?" She says in a convicing voice

I start to Think, what if I do join them..what its a trick and they will betray me like I betrayed my friends...But if I dont join them...then..will I still be a bad person? A bad girl?

"Soo? Do we have a deal" Mrs. Abanate says with a smile.

I sigh and hope I'm making the right desesion..I think to myself 'For Enzo and me....I will never have to be a bad person anymore....

"I....Its a deal" I say.

Back to the present: Now i'm here watching and remembering how I had use the powers Crow face gave me to get that black book from Mr. Peterson...I sit there and watch him bleed out because of how angry I was at him...Because of what He did to Lucy...and Mya.

I make it to the cab and give Mrs. Abanate the black book as I feel her pat me on my head saying

"Good Girl Maritza~"

[postal-ech]

Alright no, I need to go into detail on this shit cause I swear to god, it lives rent free in my head. I'll split the post off here cause there's gonna be some spoilers for Lisa the Undone as well as a few other Lisa Fan Games that are on my mind

I'm also giving a CW here, cause Lisa covers some dark topics, and I want to unload it a bit here, especially given what I've seen out of Lisa the Undone.

Buckle up, it's gonna be a long, very autistically hyperfixated post.

So

I initially never really got into Lisa when it first came out. I was a shitlord that saw the fan content first, especially this project known as Interlopers - essentially, a Lisa-Undertale crossover featuring Buddy Armstrong and Chara Dreemur.

It piqued my interest a bit, but I never realized how one sided it was in exploring this stuff, especially given it was this crossover AU. It focused mainly on the Undertale fandom and some of the things that were popular at the time. It WAS going to explore its own version of Olathe on a sequel series but that was canceled later on, and the idea has become dormant since.

Later on, my curiosity grew and I looked into the Lisa side of things more. I discovered Lisa the Pointless, Lisa the Hopeful, and then I started looking into other fan projects here too.

Why this pretext? Because that was the gateway into Lisa proper.

I only got Lisa the Painful and Lisa the Joyful after its definitive edition released. At this point, I was pretty well versed in Brad's story - his trauma and pain, the struggles he faces after, the Joy abuse to numb the pain - so when I saw the campfire scenes between Brad and the other party members, especially with members like Terry or Queen Rodger, Bo and Olan, it sparked something there that's for fucking sure.

And then I got to the secret boss.

I'm a dude thar enjoys reading into shit, looking deep at the meaning of written projects be it games, movies, books, etc - Lore is my god damn drug, to put it in a TL:DR.

Seeing this huge call back to Lisa the First, Seeing the symbolism of joy spiders worshipping a Blue Eclipse above Brad's childhood home, fighting the manifestation of Marty Armstrong and reading the deeper, personal stuff that's said afterwards

That song, too, towards the very end of the sequence, with the music that's reminiscent of s church choir singing as Brad's childhood self descends into the darkness

That's what truly sold me on Lisa.

I know everyone has mixed feelings on Lisa the Joyful of course, especially in the way it handled Buddy - Some people were fine with it, and others didn't like the way she became this bloodthirsty girl out to murder shit indiscriminately

I say fair enough honestly, Joyful was a bit of a slog to get through compared to Painful

HOWEVER

There were two things I still enjoyed about it:

One, Dustin. Dustin was and still is the goddest boy despite his own flaws, and I was upset it wasn't explored more before his untimely death. Buddy actually starting to care about him before it all went downhill was tragic in its own right

Two, the DE content. Again, a lot of people were still mixed on it, but personally I saw it as a better expansion into Buddy healing from her trauma, understanding that- while Brad certainly was in the wrong in the way he raised her, he still tried his best in a world that definitely wanted to exploit her in the most horrific ways imaginable.

I'm fine with her even mentioning Lisa cause let's all be real here, she's definitely at least heard of her through Brad in some way, shape or form, and the ending bit where he explains the dead flower to her only reinforces that for me.

The more supernatural side of things feel interesting too, cause maybe it's just me, but reading into things, The Flash always had this sort of supernatural spin to it - how Olathe got so fucked up, how time doesn't seem to be entirely right in some areas or how everything got all mountainous and the likes. Probably just headcanon stuff but fuck it, I enjoy the speculation.

AND NOW, THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR: LISA THE UNDONE.

So, with that context out of the way, I'll get into my proper thoughts with Lisa: The Undone.

Firstly, again I know not everyone will really agree with the ideas the Definitive Edition put out, especially in the case of Joyful with its Lisa the First callback and Buddy just slamming on Buzzo the way she does. That being said, I love the way Lisa the Undone tackles these ideas Joyful initially set our and explores them more.

The idea of Buddy being less hateful at first, just wanting to genuinely explore the weird and wacky world of Olathe despite its darkness is very welcome. With Dustin especially, this is only amplified.

A lot of the headcanoned and original stuff feel like they can fit right into the base Lisa games too honestly, and that's another thing I really appreciate about this fan gams

But the most important thing to me is the found family relationship between Dustin and Buddy, as well as the two other companions you can recruit.

Dustin is by no means perfect. This is undeniable enough given his actions in Painful and Joyful - He wants to do good, but it becomes a bit of a messiah complex especially for Buddy - who mind you, is only a pubescent kid during all of this shit. This is still translated well in this fan game, just less of a prominent character point - He still wants Buddy to have a good life and to be safe, but there's a clear struggle with seeing her as the Future of Olathe

And seeing her as just Buddy. Just Her.

And the fact that over the time, throughout the chapters, you see Dustin refer to her less as this important figure for the world and more as like a sibling, or just straight up family, that right there is what sells me on this.

Especially towards the end, where depending on your choices in the game, Buddy does eventually admit she can't help but care about people like Dustin.

That hits. That hits a good fucking bit.

And that's what I love to see in this. Sure, it may end with one of the two dying in part 2 of Undone, or depending on your actions it may end with tragedy for either of them

But the fact it works this found family dynamic so God damn well here, with how Buddy and Dustin care for each other AS that family despite Brad's own fuck-ups between the both of them.

Fuck man. It's good, and I hope this fandom explores it more here - especially with DE putting things into an interesting context too.

On a side note, God I also hope it explores DE's Warlord skills mechanics in the future, it's some god damn martial arts shit I love. Sure it may be Mega Man-esque bur god dammit the idea of Buddy learning and incorporating some ideas given from how each Warlord fights is SUCH a good idea and if there's ever a fan game that had Buddy exploring the greater world of Olathe, meeting the likes of Alex Churchland or Beltboy and shit like that, I wanna see her develop her own form of martial arts with or without the katana she's grown accustomed with god dammit.

God, I love Lisa. I love these games as much ad Undertale and Deltarune, and I need to write out some more shit for this series.

Thanks Austin Jorgensen you god damn mad man, and thanks to the Fandom for putting out such genuine bangers.

[ladysomething]

Last chapter, it was mentioned Vicky kicking Max out when he was being a dick to their mum. What is Vicky designation? (Sorry if already said, cant remember) I dont think she is an Alpha, so I find it trully endearing that Max "allowed" her to do so, and I use quotes not because she needs his dumb alpha permission, but because I read that as him inmeadetely realizing he was in the wrong, and deserving being kicked out, and though he could probably overpower his sister (I guess), he didn't, and regretted. That speaks volumes of him, even if he was in the wrong path and way too deep in his father influence yet, he was able to perceive thar something did not clicked right with the morals he probably had buried somewehere in his 'ugly little heart', to quote Max himself on the opening of one chapter from his PoV

I also appreciate those little moments when other designations show they can also go feral and be protective, Like Charles when Jos attacked Max (that moment melted my heart), I love when authors remember just because Alpha are stronger, doesn't mean all the others are automatically weak and meek. Even prey animals have fight instincts when under attack, and though Alphas may have their strong bodies and alpha voice, is just natural that other designation would've 'evolved' to fight back when in distress, even if overpowered (aside from when under the voice). A/b/o universes are mostly harsh, present a harsh reality for omegas most of the time, so is natural that omegas WILL fight back if they can, and not just by batting their pretty eyelashes. Lions and wolves also have hierarchies but even the weakest lion and wolve will fight back! So, thanks for that, it was refreshing, you surprise me with your vision more and more

she's a beta!

there was a flashback to that scene allll the way back in chapter 7, but I've included the relevant Victoria parts below the cut!

and absolutely - this is all just one big allegory for womanhood and misogyny, and women definitely aren't weak compared to men. so it's a super SUPER important part of the story for Charles to be just as strong and protective as Max. I'm glad it resonates with you anon!

Max whips around to face the doorway, eyes wide as he spots Victoria standing there. Tears are running down her cheeks, hand over her mouth as she looks between them. 

“What did you do?” Victoria asks, rushing over to their mother. 

Max blinks at the pair, at Victoria running her hand over Mum’s cheek, and Mum who is bleary eyed, neck tilted to the side in a show of submission. 

“You used the voice on her,” Victoria accuses, glaring at him over her shoulder. 

Did he? He doesn’t think . . . He didn’t mean to . . . 

“You’re such an arsehole,” Victoria says, shaking her head as she pushes past him to go into the kitchen. “Mum doesn’t need this right now, with Dad visiting her here and her stupid Dreyma—” 

“Dad’s visiting here?” he asks, perplexed. Dad isn’t supposed to be able to see Mum in person, no matter what that means for Mum’s potential for mate withdrawal. “I thought . . .” 

Max follows Vic, watching as she fills a cup with water, and then follows her back out to the dining room where their mum is still sitting, head tilted.

Victoria scoffs. “You think the restraining order protects her? She’s a mated omega, the police don’t give a fuck about her—especially when it’s her mate that comes calling. Even if they did, she can’t always keep him out of her Dreyma Ver-öld.” 

Max isn’t sure what to say. He doesn’t know what to think, either. 

Very gently, Victoria holds the cup of water to their mother’s lips, slowly encouraging her to drink. She smooths Mum’s hair back from her face with gentle, slow strokes. 

“Maybe if she . . .” He isn’t sure what he’s going to say, really, so he trails off. 

Victoria glares at him again, jaw clenched. If she had a second gender, he imagines that he’d be smelling a fair amount of fury from her right now. Maybe she’d be more scared of him, too. 

“You’re exactly like him,” Victoria says bitterly. She seems to have finished the sentence for him and come to her own conclusions. “Just . . . just leave, Max. I don’t want you here, and Mum doesn’t need you. Take your stupid trophy and get out.” 

“Vic—” He protests, shocked at her audacity. 

“Get out, Max,” she says more firmly, turning so she’s standing between him and Mum. She crosses her arms, head tilted up in defiance. “And don’t come back until you’re free of him.” 

[seventeenlovesthree]

This comes a little out of nowhere but I had this idea for a while, that digimon tri would have been more cohesive if it was about the original 8 adventure kids looking and searching for the missing 02 kids and therefore stumbling into this reboot plot with Maki and Alphamon etc (like asking Maki for help searching, she leading them to Meiko and Meicoomon). I think this would let them focus on the adventure kids without painting them as bad friends or without dissapointing the 02 fans. It also would make the original 8 more pro active in my eyes! Where the plot doesnt just happen to them. What do you think?

No worries, I do like thought experiments like that! And I do believe I had mentioned it before myself, because I am convinced that you are right and it actually should have been the underlying plot point in Tri. And if you think about it, one of the first scenes showing the 02 kids getting defeated was basically the perfect set-up for that.

I am currently not at home and without access to my PC/resources, but I am pretty sure there were articles mentioning that there had been several creative differences, which is why the pacing felt so off. I think a major problem may have been that they wanted to a.) include more fanservice and b.) try and give all characters focus "episodes"/"moments" to justify the Ultimate evolutions. Which, in my opinion, still backfired, because the evolutions felt very "tacked on". The idea of "overcoming ones darkness" has ALWAYS been vital to the original 8 and the themes were there (most obviously in Mimi staying sincere to herself, Jyou accepting responsibilities for himself), sometimes very cleverly integrated into the plot (Koushirou figuring out how to save the mons and Tentomon choosing to sacrifice himself the same way Kou always committed himself to the cause), but other cases were very forced (Takeru literally just said "Go for it", Sora had to go through forced suffer porn that didn't even really help her to move forward).

Long story short; I believe thar they should have committed to a theme: Either slice of life with monster-of-the-week stakes to give the kids singular moments to shine. Or: remove the slice of life/fanservice and commit to a plot. The older kids getting alarmed by the disappearance of the 02 kids and URGENTLY trying to figure out how to find them. No onsen trips, no school festivals. Them getting confronted by Daigo, Maki and Meiko (with Maki still being corrupted and trying to manipulate the kids to her advantage). There being a conflict in the group as to whether they should work with them/trust Meiko, with everyone showing varying degrees of stress with the situation.

You could still have Jyou's conflict like that for example; him worrying sick over Iori, but still prioritizing his studies at first and hating himself for it...

Mimi being dead worried about Miyako and looking at Meiko's glasses remind her of her the entire time; but she pushes through, trusting in Meiko, but butts heads with Koushirou who tells her to follow their plan (him and Yamato are suspicious of Daigo and Maki), but she's blinded by her drive. As is Koushirou, who overworks himself, but may actually get pulled out of that for once...

Hikari and Takeru being torn about the entire situation, asking themselves why they were not affected/targetted, if they can even fight properly without their Jogress partners, what'd happen if they had to face them at some point...

Taichi sees it all as an opportunity to bring the group closer together again, as he had been afraid of growing up and drifting apart again. Him and Yamato are actually not fighting for once, but still struggle with their obligations, as does Sora. But this time... They actually manage to talk things out, because they all have a common goal:

Getting their friends back and, in the process, reassessing their priorities, relationships, values... Especially with a reboot ahead of them and that strange girl in the middle of all.

I mean, I look at singular screenshots I took and feel like... Man, it could have fit wonderfully if the 02 kids had been the motivation all along.

[digitaldoeslmk]

I am curious about your LMK au. I mean, i think i remember thar you still have a lady bone demon in you au,right? So if she still wants to erase this reality to create her perfet World, she stills need the samadhi fire, what exactly is she going to do to make red son use it? Cause i dont think he is going to do it if she asks him😂😂😂. Is she going to make him, for example, remember that he had lost his childhood? I can understand that he is ok right now with that, but can still be something that can upset him if the overthink of it.🤔

PD, i love your au and your art! I wish the actual serie was more like that, or at least the part of guanyin and red son still having the samadhi fire.

Pd2.0, do you have a fanfic of all this? If you have, please tell me!!!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩I need it!!!💙💙💙

Sorry if my english is not that perfect😂

hello anon, and thank you for the compliments!! I don't quite have a fanfic proper cus long-format writing is a real struggle for me, but I do plan to do some scenes and such :D I'll post here and on AO3, particularly on this collection <3

as for LBD, that's the thing, that's not her motivation at all! xD like I said, my au is very JTTW-compliant, and in the novels, the White Bone Demon's only motivation was to eat Tripitaka to gain immortality thanks to his multiple lifetimes of cultivation. that's the motivation of pretty much all the demons the pilgrims face, save maybe Princess Iron Fan and Bull Demon King, who both want revenge on Wukong for defeating their son Red Boy.

in my au, LBD gets revived along with a few other demons on the prospect of getting revenge of Wukong for killing them, a proposal offered to them by Macaque. previously I stated that he ran away from the Diyu but after some thinking, im changing it to he was reincarnated once his time on the Diyu was done! despite being reborn, he wanted to get back at Wukong and the aspect of fate itself, and for that he needed to cause some real uproar, thus the sneaking souls out of the Hells for his own plans. however his plans don't include the use of the Samadhi fire, so no need to manipulate Red Son into using it for him.

also the Samadhi fire isn't exclusive to Red Son either! it's a very specific and powerful skill that only a few select individuals can use, but it's not this world-ending power like the series make it out to be. other characters like Nezha and Erlang can use it too uwu

[juniperhillpatient]

You know, I wouldn’t say this if I hadn’t already endlessly praised Zuko (deserved) on past rewatches for the bravery it takes to face Ozai & I take none of their praise back but it’s all been said… it does bother me a lot that he starts his “I’m switching sides” speech to his father by explaining that it was Azula who killed the avatar. Like oh ok so fuck her when you get out of here huh 😅 I guess he thinks Ozai wouldn’t punish Azula or maybe he even wants her to suffer on a petty level much like she smiled when he was scarred - they’ve been raise to fight each other for Ozai’s approval & that creates a dynamic where this cruel desire to see each other punished is innate.

I think there’s a few ways to read the scene & I personally prefer the explanation that Zuko is just Thar Oblivious & thinks Azula is praised no matter what. Either way this is an example of Zuko totally tragically misunderstanding his family even as he finally learns that what he went through was wrong. It makes sense. He’s always been put down in favor of Azula. He has no context for normal family expectations & his jealousy blinds him to the weight on Azula’s shoulders. I’ve definitely posted before how much it kills me that when later Sokka asks Zuko if he left anyone behind that he cares about he thinks only of Mai & Azula doesn’t even come to mind. But I think this Day of Black Sun moment is also very sad & I forgor if I’ve brought it up before.

[bramblebush2]

Me and my friends are playing Danganronpa: Lapse >:]

We're at the start of chapter three and we're kinda in love rn.. We obviously do voice acting and since the cast is comprised of 12 from what we've seen it was easy to split amongst us with 4 per person :D

I'm Kanon, Missy, Art and Ashley :3 we have such stupid voices for them but they're the only ones I can associate them with ..

Kanon has an annoyed posch accent that I used for Sirius when playing Witchs Heart with them as well

Missy is.. very british

Art is just my normal voice but super energetic

Ashley has a cowboy accent because,, horse girl

We didn't bother searching up nationalities beforehand which was bothersome when we gave someone else a British accent who suddenly started speaking French 😭😭

Anyways danganronpa Lapse is peak..

Here's just random thoughts that contain some spoilers until ch3 under the cut

So so far we've played until the bad end from ch3 and... omg that caught us off guard.

We live a while away from each other, so we can't get together as much as we want. When we do hang out, we love playing visual novels and doing stupid voices over them. We've played Yttd, Witchs Heart, a bit of Ace Attorney, In Stars and Time and Raincode like this :D ( feel free to share some recommendations of visual novels with some larger main casts for us to play :3 )

So rambling aside God that bad end scared the shit out of us. My house is close to a train station so a bit before the train arrived the others had packed up and we were kinda addicted so we decided to stretch a little bit and play one more scene. Suddenly the fucking light switch off and the mc just fcking dies?? Jumpscare. Then it said Kanon lost and while walking to the station we could.not.stop yapping about that ending. What did Kanon lost mean? Was it her who killed the mc or someone else? (Don't answer this btw lmao)

Anyways aside from that, other thoughts. When we saw the chapter title for chapter 3 and the cg that accompanied it we immediately pointed out it depicted a marigold. A marigold being Kanon's flower. Super suspicious.... We're afraid she'll be either the victim or the murderer this chapter. It was the same with Pandora in the first chapter with the French title and stuff.

Before that we were speculating that maybe the creator might throw a curveball and have Echo kill someone while not in the right heads pace after Ashley's death. When the whole scene with Missy and the Dagger appeared we were convinced that they would. Bur they seem to have recovered?? Maybe I'll swallow my words later when we continue playing though..

We are convinced that Forte will be killed at some point and that Sei will kill someone. Not for any particular reason except that's just the vibes we got?

Damn we're missing Cyrus rn.. he and his stupid name (when we saw the name Cyrus Suryc we immediately said: evil, and we were right, kinda)

So when we play games we first go through the roster of characters and sort who voices who among ourselves. This unintentionally lead to some spoilers a lot of the time. Like Pandora's sister being listed among the character roster despite her not having appeared yet and us thinking Zero was just some participant when he's actually the monokuma of this game kinda.

Anyways so this is our character sorting. Just calling them by their online aliases:

Me-

Kanon

Ashley

Missy

Art

Mag-

Lyle

Zero

Pandora

Cyrus

Eve (not listed but she got an extra character since Zero isn't technically a participant as far as we know)

Ketchup (girl idk what else to call you

Forte

Echo

Sei

Pandora's sister who still hasn't appeared

If you have played the game, you've probably noticed thar our division is terrible 😭 2 of my characters have murdered 2 Mag's and Ketchups characters are all alive and well (tho we have no idea where Pandora's sister is)

Also damn we were in super denial about it being Art in ch1. He rly didn't seem like he would die this early. Again, based off of nothing but vibes from us lmao. We basically called Ashley right away when we found out she was alive. We haven't found the third victim yet, we first went with the Lyle and Kanon group which led to our unfortunate demise 😢 if the third victim is anyone other then Kanon then were certain she was the killer but if it's not we have no clue. We like to bet who is the killer before the chapter even starts so we all got our money on Echo this time but now that they're recovering we're not so sure anymore.. We'll see

I love yapping about this stuff

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Tavern Scenes

Ship: Captain Jack Sparrow x Rex Holly Janning

Word Count: 1076

Summary: An exploration of jealousy and insecurity between our favourite pirate couple. CWs for Jack being jealous and possessive but in a self-aware manner, themes of insecurity, drinking mentions, slight suggestiveness.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @rexscanonwife

Jack felt he should’ve known better, and yet, Tortuga was a place that would always be there for him and his crew. What should he have known better, you ask? Should’ve known better than to think his “first-and-a-half mate” and lover was safe from others’ flirtation, especially in a place like this.

He observed, eyes narrowed, from the bar of the tavern. Rex Holly Janning, son of a dead doctor and a bloodthirsty queen, sat at a table playing some sort of game with cards and wooden chips and other men. Men who looked far too interested in Rex’s laugh and the way he played the game, kept them guessing. Jack sulked, not even touching his half-finished rum as he shifted his hand to cradle his fuzzy chin.

It wasn’t Rex’s fault he was more gorgeous than Amphitrite, but his attention and love were more precious than riches to Jack Sparrow. And as any pirate knows, sharing doesn’t come easily, at least not outside of your own crew and clan. He knocked back the rest of his rum and shook himself. It wasn’t like he was just going to waltz over there and embarrass him, but if he didn’t do something soon, he may just take an “accidental” shot at the man flashing Rex the brightest smile. He inched closer to focus on the conversation at hand as Rex laughed again, the sound making his heartbeat hasten in joy and his stomach contract in jealousy.

“I've ne'er met a pirate so well-spoken! Where 'ave ye come from?” The scruffy man with big teeth asked.

“The Kirkcoln Isles,” Rex responded, gulping down his drink.

“Aye, Queen Perla’s domain, the snobby wee wench. Wha’s yer ship?”

Rex smiled knowingly, shuffling his cards. “The Black Pearl.”

The men’s mouths hung agape. “Nay, certainly nah the mighty same Black Pearl belongin' t' Cap'n Jack Sparrow? The whole pirate world would've known if that ‘ad been plundered.”

“Plundered?” Rex chuckled, “I certainly think not. It is the very same ship, however.”

“Ye mean t' tell me... ye run wit' Sparrow's crew?”

“Indeed he does, full-pocketed curs,” Jack spoke up, sauntering behind Rex and playing with a rather large knife.

“Y’ave t’ be bluffin’, thar's no way someone like ye works wit' someone like 'im.” The pirates exchanged star-struck looks between clean-cut Rex and wildman Jack.

“Well, most people can hardly believe I’m a pirate at all, so what difference does it make?” Rex handed his empty cup to Jack, “would you get this topped off for me, captain?”

“Certainly,” Jack did nothing to hide his adoration as he brought the mostly empty cup back to the bar.

“Wha' position do ye 'ave fer ye two t' be natterin' like that? First mate?”

Rex displayed his cards, speaking in a low tone: “In bed, sure.”

One of the pirates briefly choked on his drink.

“Ye mean t' tell me... ye 'n Sparrow are 'bunk mates?'”

Jack handed Rex his drink. “Surprised?”

The pirates nodded, but the one who seemed most interested in Rex scoffed. “We all know Sparrow can nah be tied down. I be sorry t' say, Rex, he'll maroon ye sooner rather than later.”

Rex slammed his cup down on the table after a short drink, glaring at the pirate with an angry blush on his cheeks. He pushed away from the table and stormed out of the tavern.

“Look wha' ye've done now, load o’ jackanapes,” Jack scolded, making sure his pistol was even loaded. “Now, I could shoot ye fer wha' ye've jus' said, non-fatally o' course, but it'd be more useful o' me t' go check up on me partner I reckon. Still, keep in mind, I don't treat scallywags who cross Rex lightly.” He lazily yet deliberately waved the gun at the men at the table, pausing just long enough to make his point, before following Rex outside.

He found them not far off, leaning against a palm tree with their arms folded over their chest, looking down the well-lit street, crawling with pirates and other ne’er-do-wells of all creeds. Jack immediately stumbled over to them, placing his pistol back in its holster and taking their plush arms in his hands.

“Rexie, don't let 'em get under yer skin…” He spoke gently, but they didn’t look him in the eye, instead responding with a harsh sniff.

“I know. I won’t.”

The captain frowned, continuing to trace the thin fabric between his and their skin. He chewed his tongue in thought before clearing his throat. “They be nah wrong. I'd only admit t' me... eventful past t' ye wit' such humility 'cause... yer ye. But ye don't 'ave anythin' t' worry about. I be nah goin' anywhere that ye can nah follow.”

Finally, they turned their face toward him, their eyes landing on his lips. “If you’ve taught me anything, Jack, it’s that you can’t trust a pirate. We go back on our words and swindle people all the time. But I trust that you love me… and I don’t care about your past habits, honest.”

“Then why are ye upset?”

“Well, you know me… I’ve never been the most secure, even when I’m faking it for men like those,” Rex gestured toward the tavern. Jack’s hands travelled further up to cup their jaw, leaning closer to them.

“Blueblood, I'll let ye in on a wee secret…” He cleared his throat again, thumbing their soft skin. “'N’ if it doesn't seal the deal, I dunno wha' t' tell ye. It's frustratin' when ye catch other scallywags' eyes, Rex. I know ye can nah help it, bein' as charmin' 'n gorgeous as ye be, but I wish they'd stay away from ye. 'Cause I love ye.”

Their faces were inches apart, eyelids heavy. “Is that why you were sulking the entire time I was playing with them?” Rex laughed softly before closing the gap, kissing their captain lovingly. Jack clung to them but forced himself not to be too heavy with his display of affection. Still, he wanted to devour them, and he wanted nothing between their bodies. He hoped the grinning man would see them, enraptured like this, and think twice before smiling that wide around Rex again.

“My poor baby,” they cooed when they pulled apart, their own hand finding Jack’s cheek.

“'Tisn't often a cap'n like me finds someone like ye, Blueblood. Feelin' better?”

“Mm-hm.”

Jack squeezed them tightly. “That's all I wants t' hear.”

[atombonniebaby]

WIP Weekend

Thanks to @theartofblossoming for the tag!

Tagging fellow creatives (no obligations here either!): @druidgroves @fallout-new-mudkip @galaxycunt @just-another-wasteland-merc @maccreadysbaby @perfectlypreservedpie @sassenashsworld @sirmanmister @willinglyghoulified

As for me? My Dudes, she's been writing! (and procrastinating said writing by playing fo4 and making screenshots!)

So here's an update on MacBeth!

Been smoothing out the timeline! Trying to take my time to get the pacing right! [I'm excited because it's getting meaty and falling into place...it's getting chonky!!]

Coming up:

Enter Mayor MacCready (Sim Settlements 2 makes this a reality, btw!)

Mac's past as a Gunner comes back to bite him. (Featuring Quincy and Sunglasses)

A wee bit o romance to fix up (and bewilder) a lonesome merc

Mac steps up big-time (MM stuff, SS2 cast come in, and I love 'em!)

Some more angst (okay, most of it is probably angst.)

Winter is Coming...and it bringeth the Feral Hordes (I apologize in advance, Mac!)

Thar be an imposter among us...

Responsibility weighs heavily...Guilt be crippling!

(Oh look, this is roughly where I originally started this fic like a rookie!)

To follow: A bunch of other stuff I've been cooking up over the year (Expect Reunions, Lamplighters all grown up, more bad jokes, heartache, and (I hope) big reveals.)

For Now:

Here's a scene from an upcoming 3 chapter story arc.

Since Duncan was featured in my posts this week, I found myself revisiting the flashback that leads to the moment Mac makes the promise to his son. The full rewrite will now reveal the identity of 'The Stanger.'

The Promise

Awakening to Duncan’s demands for attention, he’s alone, and RJ bristles, the faint smell of newborn mingling with the antiseptic of the surgery overwhelming. After a minute of psyching himself up, he bundled the screeching infant into his arms and moved for the door, hoping to find some bleeding heart to ease his headache—he didn't get that far. 

Goddammit, the little shit had to stop crying, didn’t he? Trying to ignore the feel of Duncan's small fingers curling around his, he shrugs off the comforting pull of the bundle of warmth in his shaking arms and cradles his son close, sinking back into the chair, the fingers on his free hand clinging to Lucy’s. It's the first moment of peace in days, a fleeting respite, and it’s too much. His steely exterior cracks, and the quiet, simmering tears spill over.

RJ cleared his throat as the airlock opened, and a nurse walked in—about dang time!  She’s young and smiley. Her brown hair was neatly braided underneath a funny hat with a green cross. He wondered if Lucy would wear one if she became a nurse. "You okay, love?" She looked him over, sweetly, caring like—handing him a rag.

Oh, fuck off! He was not crying! "Yeah—Just the damn dust!" his nose wrinkled, and MacCready hoped his smile was convincing.

"You want to have a go, or shall I take him?" She held up a bottle.

"I can do it!" he said a little too enthusiastically. “I don't want him to start crying again. My head is already splitting." 

He took the bottle she handed him—that stuff gets expensive. There was no point in letting it get cold, sitting and arguing about it.

"Need me to show you?" the nurse said with a hand on her hip and a smug glint in her eye. 

She probably thought he'd need help because he's a guy or something—he was feeding his son to spite her! "I can manage...thanks," he grumbled. "Not my first time feeding a Little.”  

He hated himself for smiling at how Duncan enthusiastically gripped that bottle. He was supposed to be angry at him, but as he suckled the bottle, RJ looked—really looked at him, those warm browns blinking back—the little bastard, that was all it took.

"Kid has her eyes," RJ sputtered, wiping his nose. "Damn, dust—don't you guys have cleaning robots around here?" 

He accepted the rag this time, laughing through the tears seeping through. The nurse gave his shoulder a light squeeze and a knowing look, and she grinned all toothy at him before disappearing back through the airlock.

"You see how she looked at us, kid?" he scoffed, brows pinching as he wiped the tears from his face. 

"You know, I bet your mumma is gonna freak the fu–agh—" MacCready furrowed his brows as he looked over the innocent bundle in his arms. "Freak the frick out when she meets you." The stranger's voice was a dull drone, a gnawing Rad Rat in the back of his mind. 

"I didn't mean to yell at you, a'right?" his head shook, smiling. “She is the one that keeps me level-headed. She'd kick my ass—for fuck…nope....uh-uh—"

MacCready cleared his throat, steeling himself before continuing. "She'd beat my butt if she heard me talk to you like that. So, how about we don't tell her, huh? Do you promise to keep this between us, two MacCready boys?

Duncan fidgeted through his swaddle. Big eyes focused on him. "Yeah?" MacCready chuckled, playing with his son's feet beneath the blanket. "Then, I promise to get my shit–oh, for fuck sake!" he took another deep breath that exhaled as a laugh.

"Maybe I should start with a swear jar..."

[asterlae]

You know, I love that the whole thing with kazuma is that he doesn't say the whole truth, is hurtful, but it's also something thar makes me be sure that I don't have to differentiate in which instance is he lying and in which instance is he saying the truth bc all he has said is the truth, but omitting details

When he says that he has another mission in britain that's the truth even if he isn't saying what that mission is about, if he says that he went with gregson to kill his target but then backed out that's the truth even if he purposely omits the name of the target to let us believe it was jigoku and not gregson

It's so sneaky that I really love it, it's the truth but omitting details unless ryuunosike is able to deduce what those details are. Ic he says a thing is one way or another it's bc he knows it is like that or he genuinely believes it is like that, and thats what I love of him as a prosecutor

While van zieks goes up front with the facts of a case, even going as far as taking to crime scene to the trial, or not hesitating to go against orders from stronghart when he sees that they are obstructing the truth, all while claiming he trust no one... kazuma instead is sneaky about that truth even if he claims to trust ryuunosuke with the defense... I really love it, I do with all my hearth

Edit:

But, I think he also told is how to approach hi without meaning to, ad the beggining of the case, bc, when we told him that van zieks didn't accept is as his defense, what he told us os that we had to be dorect with him about it, and it kind of has been like that when dealing with the things he has been hiding

The moment he regains his memories is when faced with his other mission, his main one, the truth about his father's death. When he admits to travelling with gregson, when he previously didn't say anything about doing that is when we confront him with the tip of karuma's blade...

I could just talk all day about him as a character bc I really love him, he's totally the kind of character I love

I also will probably talk about susato when I finish the game bc she's also so cool as a character xD I think that one of the things I like the most is how, in these two cases after she came back from Japan, but especially on this final case, is has felt more like she's working with ryuunosuke as a team, and not as just this woman who is his asistant and that has to give credit to him for any contribution she makes. They are a team, they feel like a team, and I feel that she can sense it, that ryuunosuke sees her more as an equal whose opinions are just as important as his.