#but my god is it a disaster fire of a story

[cameoliob]

girl give us the eriss lore

oh my god I'm answering this so late (Emma check your inbox challenge level impossible)

For those of u who don't know; this is Eriss  ↓

And she's my lil Kalluzeb kiiidddd

HERES THE LOREEEE

So, it's 3 ABY when the Ghost Crew gets a tip about some lasat refugees, and when they arrive they find two elderly grandparents and a three year old little girl named Eriss.

And this little girl just adores Zeb. Her grandpa suggests that it's because Zeb reminds her of her father, who'd been murdered alongside her mother by the empire. And Zeb can't help but love her back.

Once they get to Lira San, Chava quickly takes it upon herself to get the small family aquainted with the planet, and The Ghost Crew heads back to the Rebellion.

As the years go by, Eriss' grandparents pass peacefully of old age and she's placed with Chava. Its a temporary solution; Chava's old and-- as much as she would like to-- she can't keep up with the energetic little girl, but it would have to work for the time being.

But sometimes Zeb calls, just to check up on things, and she gets to hear all the stories about the rebellion, and the adventures that he goes on, and she loves it.

And then the war ends and Zeb comes back to Lira San.

And Eriss is fucking HYPED. She doesn't really like grown ups all that much but Zeb is fun as hell and now he can tell Eriss all his war stories in person, and it'll be so great and-- Who the fuck is that guy

Eriss had never met Kallus in person because he wasn't apart of the original mission that brought her and her grandparents to Lira San (damn intelligence mission got in the way). Zeb had mentioned him before in passing, but putting a face to the name was weird. Really weird.

She didn't mind it, though. He was nice-- not as cool as Zeb, but he was nice.

It takes some time, but eventually Chava brings up the idea of Zeb and Kallus taking Eriss in; as stated before, she's getting old and she cannot keep up with this six year old. Kal and Zeb are hesitant, of course, they didn't really plan to raise a kid but... realistically it would probably be what's best for Eriss in the long run so... they agree

And for all that hestation they really are the dads of all time

She's midly confused and it's a whole lot of getting used to, but by the time she's ten she's calling them Adan and Dad

So she grows up with two war heroes as parents who teach her everything they know ANNNDDDD she gets a Cousin (which... is kind of a curse. Is Jacen one of her best friends? Yes. Is he also her nemisis and rival? Also yes.) (average cousin experience)

^ Top ten photos taken moments before disaster (they accidentally set Chopper on fire)

And sure she ended up with her Dads smart mouth, and her Adan's brashness, (a combonation resulting in what some may call attitude issues (all in good fun, of course)), but life is good. She's well read, she's educated, she's a student athlete (grav-ball point gaurd, and 3 time collegiate wrestling champ), her family is fire, she is truly living la vida loca

But then the First Order rolls around and she has to deal with all that bullshit but yk what, families who fight fascist regimes toegther stay together

[birogues]

i watched hazbin hotel out of curiosity because my tiktok fyp was force feeding it to me and turns out all the good parts are just on tiktok

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[marimbles]

my favorite thing about zagreus is that he’s the ultra-cool prince of the underworld, son of the god of the dead, skilled warrior protégé of Achilles himself, tall dark and handsome, completely shredded, with the dopest heterochromia ever, leaving sparks in his wake while he struts around like he owns the place (cause he kind of sort of does). BUT he’s also the most pitiful, disaster-level idiot in the underworld.

He got fired from his nepo job for being lazy and unfit for office work. Whenever he talks to the worker shades in the admin office they all roll their eyes at him. despite his elite training he can only progress toward the surface with endless redos and the constant help of every Olympian AND Cthnonic god. his room is a dump. he’s absolutely terrible at playing the lyre. His outfit is designed after his dog. He is sopping wet from his last dip in the pool of Styx 100% of the time, and every time he fails at escaping the whole house can see his walk of shame while Hypnos loudly makes fun of him for dying AGAIN. And all of this is magnified 10x if you’re bad at the game. incredible story design.

Zagreus’s initial inadequacy makes for an even more compelling narrative that feels extra rewarding with each level of progression. And this is all reflected so well in his attitude as a character. He’s such a fascinating mix of brazen confidence and good-natured humility. He may seem like an entitled brat on the outside but he’s incredibly heartfelt and generous to those around him—not just to those of similar status but also to the nervous housekeeper and his angry ex and the trapped souls he comes across in his journeys. he goes out of his way to help people even while he is trying to reach his own goal. and he never gives up, even when it seems impossible. his repeated failures just serve to emphasize his greatest strengths: resilience, determination, hope, and genuine care for the people in his life.

what a character, man. what a game ✊

[solxamber]

Dragon's Favourite Sacrifice – Trey Clover x reader

Trey finds himself volunteering to be the human sacrifice to you in place of his siblings. What he didn't expect was to become your housekeeper instead of being eaten.

Crossposted from my ao3!

The village doesn’t know how to react when Trey volunteers as a sacrifice. He’s fully prepared for the worst, thinking back on all the horror stories the elders tell about the dragon god—the terrifying, ancient being that can destroy their village with one swipe of a claw. At least, that’s what everyone says.

But it had to be done. The village is on the brink of disaster and their last hope was the dragon god that lived in the mountains. The villagers began to proclaim that this was happening because they forgot to send a sacrifice in recent years. And when the current sacrifice chosen turned out to be one of his younger siblings, Trey had no choice but to volunteer himself.

As he approaches the temple, though, Trey wonders why the place looks like it hasn't been touched in years. Not exactly what you’d expect from a wrathful deity.

Maybe they just don't care about keeping things tidy before eating their next victim?

The inside of the temple is surprisingly cozy, but he doesn't have time to think about it. You, the ancient dragon, make your entrance—or rather, you wander in, yawning, and blink at him like you've just woken up from a really long nap.

“Hey… uh, are you the dragon god?” Trey asks, clutching the bundle of supplies he'd brought along.

You stretch, wings fluttering lazily behind you, before giving him a confused look. "Who else would I be? The village’s lost pet?"

Trey blinks. This is not what he was expecting. He was ready for a quick, brutal end. Maybe some fire and brimstone. Not... this.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m Trey, from the village. They sent me as the sacrifice.”

You squint at him like he's just told you the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard. "Sacrifice? They still do that? I haven’t asked for a sacrifice in… decades. I was actually happy to not have my nap interrupted by scared humans. I was going to help with the crisis anyway."

Now it’s Trey's turn to stare. “You… don’t want the sacrifice?”

"Nope." You shrug, completely nonchalant. "You can go back to the village if you want. Or, if you're looking for a change of scenery, the village on the other side of the mountain is kinda nice."

Trey lets out a small sigh, but it’s not exactly relief. “I… can’t. If I go back, they'll think the offering was rejected. My siblings could suffer for it."

You pause, then nod thoughtfully. "Ah, yeah, human politics." You click your tongue. "I hate when that happens. Well, just so you know, the past sacrifices? Yeah, they all ended up in the village on the other side of the mountain."

Trey’s jaw drops. "Wait… what?"

"Yeah." You nod sagely. "They all thought the same thing—'Oh no, the dragon’s gonna eat me'—but I just sent them over there.”

He blinks at you again, trying to absorb all of this information. "So… you don’t actually…?"

"Eat people?" you finish for him, giving him a strange look. "No. That’s gross. Why would I do that?"

Trey's lips twitch upward. A beat of silence passes before Trey clears his throat again. "Mind if I stay, then? I can cook, clean, and—"

You give him a sideways glance, and your eyes light up. "Wait. You cook?"

"Yeah," Trey says, still trying to grasp that he’s negotiating his survival with a dragon.

A slow grin spreads across your face. "Well then, you’re hired. Welcome to dragon duty."

Trey’s not sure whether to laugh or cry at how anticlimactic this has all turned out. He’d prepared himself for noble sacrifice, but instead, he’s somehow signed up for dragon housekeeping duty. With a deep breath, he puts on a smile. "So, uh, what do you want for dinner?"

From that moment on, life with you is… surprisingly comfortable. Trey, ever practical, makes himself useful.

He handles things with the same calm practicality he’d use back in the village, except now, there’s a giant, sometimes snarky dragon looming over him as he goes about his tasks.

He spends his days cooking, tending to the temple’s neglected gardens, and even baking pastries—though you still don’t believe him when he says there’s no oyster sauce in his sweets.

“You’re pulling my tail,” you mutter, eyeing the perfectly innocent-looking cake Trey’s set out in front of you. “I can taste something weird in it.”

Trey just smiles. “Oyster sauce. Definitely.”

You huff, giving up on trying to figure him out, and focus on enjoying your meals and new company instead.

One evening, after a particularly good dinner (with no discernible oyster flavor, much to your disappointment), you glance at Trey lounging by the fireplace. He's been here for a while now, and you find that you're quite enjoying his company. In fact, you're enjoying it a little too much.

"So, you’re not as terrifying as the stories make you out to be," Trey comments one day, setting down a plate of food.

You snort, flipping lazily on your side. "Thanks, I guess. Humans are always so dramatic."

"And the drought?" Trey asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Taken care of," you reply with a smug smile. "Already brought in the rains.”

He nods and settles down next to you, holding a book from the library that you never bothered to visit.

Well, it's now or never. “So,” you begin, almost casually, “I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” Trey looks up from the book he’s reading.

“That you’ll be my mate.”

He nearly drops the book. “Your... what?”

“My mate.” You stretch your wings, trying to look as imposing as possible—though you’re pretty sure Trey isn’t intimidated by you anymore. “You’re the first human who actually stuck around. And you can cook. That’s mate material.”

Trey is, understandably, at a loss for words. “…You’re serious?”

“Completely.” You flash him that grin again, all teeth and playful confidence. “Unless you’ve got a better offer somewhere else?”

Trey pinches the bridge of his nose, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “No, I think I’ll stick around.”

And just like that, Trey Clover—the supposed human sacrifice—finds himself the mate of a centuries-old dragon. Maybe this wasn’t the fate he expected, but all things considered… it could be worse.

At least the dragon likes his cooking.

Masterlist

[ezrazone]

i was so frightened when i saw the fires outside al aqsa martyr’s hospital in the center of the strip. a hospital still standing, one of the last, named in honor of the palestinian dead.

this is where my dearest friend mohamed, his wife manal, and these three beautiful children have been sheltering. i waited in dread and fear to learn if these children were among the human beings burned alive. i couldn’t eat. i paced and shook.

when the intensification of the genocide on palestine began on october 7th, 2023 (a continuation of the nakbas, “catastrophes” “disasters” that the illegitimate entity has visited upon the people of the land since its inception less than a hundred years ago), i struggled to pray.

god seemed all around in the silence, but i felt insecure at the prospect of shouting into that darkness with all of my heart. it seemed petty, somehow - what did i have to pray for? my ancestors escaped a catastrophe in europe. many, many died, but enough survived to drop me in this white skin in the richest country in the world. what does a winner in a global bloodsport have to pray for?

as i have watched israel’s unmasking, it is as if the scales have fallen from my eyes with hashem. i know now that i cannot gaze upon the lord god’s silent face in the abyss but look instead upon my muslim brothers who are my own family. my own flesh and blood.

when i finally received a text from mohamed, i quietly left the room i had stood in and dropped to my knees in the quiet dark. there, i made god. here is god’s face:

how we care for these children. look into their eyes. how will you honor them? do you have a skill? will you write a song for them? draw a picture for them? so the world knows their story and loves them enough to tear this wretched world open and build one that keeps them safe?

my favorite drawings i have ever made are my drawings for mohamed’s family.

how do we meet what empire is doing to our family?

throw sand in its gears by any means necessary. love the living with all of your heart.

give your money away. it’s only money. give your time away. that’s what time is for. give your heart away. that’s what that’s for too.

Y'varekh'khah Adonai V'yishm'rekha; a free Falastin, B’ezrat Hashem, Adonai Adonai Amen.

[scariusaquarius]

shortcomings.

Nonferal! Plagas! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: Leon has been staying with the reader for a few days while trying to heal. It's going well until his anxiety rears it's ugly head and you help him through the terror.

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A/n: This takes place in my Unlikely Salvation AU!! This is NOT essential to the main story, but does give a bit of lore on the nature of Leon and Reader's relationship.

You can find the whole story, Unlikely Salvation, right here!

-

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Rated: Mature Warning: Angst, panic/anxiety attack, sad leon :(

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Author: ScariusAquarius

-

The cabin was incredibly warm for the cold winter night; the fireplace roaring with a comfortable fire as a bar held some kebabs over the flames. There was cute old-fashioned Rudolph plate that had some haphazardly-decorated cookies on them; looking like piss-poor excuses of Christmas icons beside your neatly decorated cookies.

Leon was sitting in the rocking chair near the fireplace, his tail slowly turning the kebabs as you sat on the couch with your feet tucked beneath you, your fingers quick yet comfortable as you crocheted. Leon couldn't tell what it was that you were working on, and God help him, he was too shy to ask.

If he had to guess, it looked like the beginnings of a sock...or maybe a hat? Leon's face contorted into a frown as he stared at your hands, and he almost jumped at the sound of your giggles.

Trailing his eyes over your frame, he drank in the sight of you in cute flannel pajama pants that matched his own; a grey ARMY sweatshirt keeping you warm. Leon finally met your gaze, and he hoped that the orange light of the fire hid his blush.

"W-What is it?"

Leon almost cursed, his voice coming out a bit shaky, and you smiled wider, glancing back down at your project and resuming, the yarn sitting in a bowl on the ground jumping and unrolling with every hook and knot you created.

"You look like you're trying to solve a math problem."

Leon was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what to say as he chose his next words carefully as if saying the wrong thing would spell out disaster for him.

"I'm just...trying to figure out what it is that you're making."

You hummed, taking a break to crack your fingers and stretch the poor extremities out.

"I'm making some sleeves. It's just too cold to not have some extra warmth."

Leon nodded, glancing out the window. It was dark outside, the sun having already disappeared around 5 o'clock, and Leon glanced back at the fireplace to check on the kebabs. He wasn't sure what to say or do, so Leon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, murmuring.

"It's...it's looking great so far."

You smiled at him softly, nodding gently to him, and Leon slowly let out the breath that he was holding before taking a large sip of his hot cocoa. Whipped cream and melted sprinkles coated his nose and upper lip, and before he could wipe it away with his tongue, you giggled at him again.

"You know, you could totally rock some facial hair if you tried to grow it."

Leon couldn't help but to make a face at you, amusement swirling within his chest as you snorted at his expression; hiding behind your sleeve and making his heart drop just slightly.

"No way. I can't really grow facial hair anyway. It's always patchy...besides my chin and upper lip."

Almost reflexively, Leon rubbed his mouth, wiping away the melted cream and sprinkles before glancing at you as you shrugged.

"That's a bummer. I think you'd look great."

Leon couldn't help but to joke back gently as if he was testing waters just like he had in Spain.

"I'd say it's a bummer too...since I'd be letting you down."

You looked up at him fully, looking a bit surprised, and Leon couldn't help but to look away; hitting himself internally for saying something so strange and weird. Instead, his heart began to race and his plagas shivered from within when you responded seriously.

"You could never let me down, Leon. You're handsome with or without the facial hair, and don't let anybody else ever tell you different."

Leon's mouth was slightly agape as he stared at you, and you offered him another smile before going back to work, humming gently to the Christmas songs that were playing on your radio.

Leon couldn't find the words to say; frozen within his seat as he tried to figure out what to do, and he leaned forward a bit before wincing; his wounded pincers scraping against the ground. You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, never once pausing your work as you asked him gently; the man becoming embarrassed again as he seemed to protectively curl in on himself.

"Are they bothering you again?"

"I'll be okay, they're just sore."

You hummed, your tone gentle but expression firm as you set your sleeve down within your lap again.

"That's not what I asked you, Leon. It's okay that you're in pain. You're not going to be in trouble for asking for help, okay?"

Leon was quiet for a moment, staring at you; nostrils flaring as he tried to detect any trace of a lie on reflex before feeling guilty that he even felt the need to search. You, however, were patient; gentle and caring and so fucking angelic that Leon couldn't bare to look at you any longer lest the light of the fire make you truly glow like a real angel that he couldn't help but to worship.

His heart was racing within his chest, lips becoming a bit dry, and Leon closed his eyes for a moment; calming his pounding heart, and he whispered softly as his chest suddenly tightened again and his limbs tried to curl in on themselves.

"I...I don't want to...to bother you."

You slowly slid off of the couch and walked to Leon, his eyes hyperaware of your movements, and you sat down on the ground in front of him, gently grasping his hands within yours as you looked up at him.

"Leon, you are never going to be a bother. You need help and that's okay. I know those scientists...the sergeants...the missions themselves...they all made you think that accepting help was weakness, and that's not true."

Leon was awestruck as you squeezed his hands gently before you gestured to his pincers and tail.

"This? This isn't weird to me. This isn't something to be ashamed of. What happened to you was unfair and it was terrible, and they didn't even bother to help despite having the means to. You were taken advantage of, and that's unforgiveable...and most certainly isn't your fault. What happened in Raccoon...in Spain...it wasn't your fault. You were just trying to help."

There were tears festering within his eyes, wetting his eyelashes and cheeks, and you sat up, tucking his head into your shoulder as Leon began to cry; holding you close to him like a lifeline as your words echoed through his mind.

It was one thing to tell something to yourself like a mantra over and over with hopes that one day while looking in the mirror, you would suddenly believe it. However, to hear someone say the words that he had needed to hear for years that didn't sound fake and rehearsed but were truly meant?

It broke him down like a goddamn skyscraper and bore his heart completely out of the ashes.

Leon was clutching you close as he cried into your shoulder, your sweatshirt becoming damp, and you gently rocked him back and forth; running your fingers through his hair soothingly. No matter how hard he tried, Leon couldn't steady his breathing, and when he began to hyperventilate, you pulled away.

Leon chased after you, but stopped when you took your sweatshirt off. His eyes widened slightly, his eyes raking over your skin as you adjusted your tank top before grabbing his hand and placing it right over his chest. In turn, you placed your hand on his chest, placing his other hand over yours.

You gazed into his eyes as Leon stared at you in awe, his fingers flexing slightly against your soft skin as you said to him softly, instructing.

"Feel my heartbeat, Leon. Feel the way that I breathe. I want you to match that with me, okay?"

Leon couldn't answer, and he closed his eyes to concentrate. With every rise of your chest, with every beat from your heart, Leon followed. He followed after you like you were the light at the end of the tunnel; clumsy and stumbling his way towards that relief.

He wasn't aware of his pincers wrapping around you as well, his tail curling around your ankle, and his fingers that were cupping your hand became soft; almost as if he would break you if he clutched too hard.

His blue eyes slowly opened, gazing into yours as you stared at him with a soft expression. Your voice was a whisper, but to Leon, it sounded as if you had yelled it from the mountaintops for all of the world to hear.

"I'm right here, Leon. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

There was an urge within him; a desperate yearning to feel your lips against his and to take refuge within them; within your body, and he felt ashamed. Leon felt ashamed that he wanted to curl himself up inside of you to hide away from the world, and he swallowed thickly, whispering back with uncertainty.

"But what if I do? What if I lose control?"

"I'll pick you up and lift you back out of the snow again."

Leon looked up at you, and he shook his head before leaning down, resting his head onto your shoulder, whispering brokenly.

"I don't deserve this...I don't understand...why...why you're so kind to me."

"It would be wrong of me to judge you...when I know how you're feeling."

Leon didn't realize what those words had meant at the time; thinking that it was just a way to relate to him so he could feel more at ease, and Leon was comforted by the feeling of you resting your head against his own.

"If you're up for it, why don't we eat our cookies and put on some Rudolph on the projector...and maybe I can give you your Christmas present early?"

Leon was surprised, lifting his head from your shoulder.

"You..you have a present for me?"

You nodded before winking at him, wiping the remaining wetness on his cheeks away before standing to refill his cup of cocoa.

"I absolutely do. It's just not done yet."

You giggled and Leon realized with a start that the crochet project you were working on...it was for him. Whatever it was that you'd been working on for the last half hour...it was his. Leon felt emotional again, but instead of crying again, he smiled instead.

When was the last time he had received a Christmas present like this?

"I...I don't know what to say."

You shrugged, smiling kindly at him as you sprayed whipped cream into his cup, grabbing the rainbow sprinkles and a cherry for on top.

"You don't have to say anything. Though, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

His response was almost immediate, a seriousness coming over him, and you pointed to the fireplace with a wince.

"Can you throw those out?"

Leon cursed as the smell of burnt food met his nose, and he spun to the fireplace where the charred kebabs were burning. Leon felt apologetic as he carefully took the kebabs off of the spit and tossed them out the window. Glancing back at you, you both shared a look of silence before you hummed.

"You know what? I think I'm okay with pizza."

Leon couldn't help but to chuckle at you before asking shyly.

"Can I help?"

Your eyes lit up with excitement, melting the ice around his heart a little more as you nodded.

"Absolutely! Come along, little grasshopper! I have many things to show you!"

As you bustled around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients that you would need to make homemade pizza, Leon stood there in the living room for a moment; just watching you with a smile.

He was starting to feel human again.

THANK YOU FOR READING! PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT! SUPPORT YOUR CONTENT CREATORS!

[pianokantzart]

My Theory on Pachacamac and The Iblis Trigger

There is talk about how much they changed Pachacamac from a warmongering, power hungry tribal leader, to a goofy grandpa figure, but I think the truth of Pachacamac's nature might be somewhere between the two interpretations. Despite his friendliness, you can't forget he did lead a clan that wiped out the owls with a singleminded focus on capturing Sonic and reclaiming The Master Emerald. Pachacamac, now a ghost, has visited Knuckles to tell him he needs to expand his tribe. There are no other echidnas left, so he asks the sole survivor to take on an apprentice. "Show him our customs, teach him our traditions, and soon our tribe will grow once again."

There is no acceptance or acknowledgement of the fact that the clan's current situation is the result of a bloody feud and the destruction of an entire race besides their own. There is also, unsettlingly, no acknowledgement of Tails, Sonic, or The Wachowskis as members of Knuckles' clan.

While there are questionable elements to Pachacamac's approach, his motivations are at least understandable. Knuckles is a minority– the last of his tribe and the only surviving member of his species, so of course his old chief wants to see their traditions and culture preserved.

Things only get really weird when Pachacamac takes hold of Wade– Knuckles' apprentice and the soon-to-be new addition to their clan–and rewrites history. Rather than the tale of a lone owl that the echidnas hunted down in a quest for power, the story is instead of an entire flock of owls that were the aggressors, killing off Knuckles' tribe and burning down his village for no reason other than for the sake of the slaughter.

Similarly, Knuckles isn't described as a lost child left behind, but a fellow warrior who battled alongside his father until the bitter end.

So, knowing that Pachacamac's version of events is wrought with lies leads to one very serious question: What is the true story of Knuckles' battle with Iblis? If there's one thing we know about The Echidna Clan, it's that they are fixated on raw power. They're a warrior-focused society where the best fighter gets the highest honor and the most privileges. They were the ones who crafted The Master Emerald from the seven chaos emeralds. They were the ones who tracked down Sonic when he was a child with the intention of obtaining his power, before Long Claw wiped them out in her final struggle.

And who else do we know that was accidentally unleashed in a reckless pursuit of power?

Iblis, the raw power of the sun god Solaris. Iblis, who was sealed away within a child using the power of the chaos emeralds.

Now, there's no doubt that "The Flames of Disaster" in the SCU are very different from "The Flames of Disaster" in Sonic 06. In the movie universe the flames are merely a type of wieldable power rather than the name of an apocalyptic event. However... what better way to rewrite the fact that the echidna tribe nearly caused the end of the world and locked an immortal fire demon within an echidna child, than by pretending that The Flames of Disaster is just an inherent ability Knuckles unlocked through an epic battle?

What if "The Flames of Disaster" wasn't a power he obtained through a magnificent fight, but a power he survived after it was thrusted upon him by his elders? ... What if one of the many, many reasons reasons his father didn't let him join the fight was out of fear of what would happen if he cried?

[twisted-tales-of-all]

First and Last Dance

Summary: After dying, you refuse to follow your reaper into the afterlife before experiencing what sex feels like. Pairing: Park Seonghwa x afab!Reader Genre: Smut, Horror, One-Shot Tropes: virgin!reader, grim reaper!AU, first and last time Word Count: 2.4K Contains: mild corruption kink, mentions of alcohol and drugs, discussion of dying in a fire, waking up disoriented, memory loss, cursing, pet names (sweetheart, love, baby girl, sir), unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), marking, praise, multiple orgasms, fingering (f. receiving)

"Ugh," you groan as you wake up, gripping your head tight thanks to your hangover. "Fuck, did I really do that much last night?"

Looking around with squinting eyes, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. The dark grey walls and black-out curtains certainly help your headache, but you can't remember how you got here or where here even is.

The creak of the door draws your attention. In walks a beautiful man with hair like raven feathers and an outfit matching the dark room. Quickly, your brain runs through an empty shelf of memories, trying to figure out whether you did something with this gorgeous man and forgot. Patting your body, you find all your clothes on your body, but not quite intact. Noticing holes in the fabric, you push down the covers to figure out the damage. Strangely, you find scorch marks all over your shirt - a burned hem cutting its original length, small holes with blackened edges from sparks flying onto the flammable fabric, even a full sleeve missing.

Before you can ask about the night prior, the stranger speaks, "You probably don't remember. That tends to happen." He pulls a chair closer to the bed, sitting back and relaxing. As if running on a script, he rallies off information, "Last night, you were at a party. An accident happened, where someone dropped a lit cigarette into some spilled alcohol. Not very many people survived, as the alcohol fire spread quickly and most of the party goers were impaired by the various drugs and alcoholic drinks."

A fire? You remember everyone's screams shifting from excited to terrified, but can't remember the flames themselves. With that big of a disaster, you wouldn't have expected to forget, even under the influence.

"At least I made it out safe."

"You didn't, Y/N." The man reveals with a look of boredom on his face, "That's why I'm here. My name is Seonghwa, and I'm a reaper. It is my job to collect the newly deceased and lead you into the afterlife."

"No."

Finally showing emotion in his reaction, Seonghwa doesn't know what to say, frozen in shock. Nobody has outright denied him like this. They've fought, cried, cursed him, and even struck him, but nobody has had your composure to simply say no.

"I can't die yet. I haven't done so many things. I've barely even hugged people I found attractive. What about my first kiss, my first time? Or traveling with someone I love? I can't die when I haven't done any of that. Send me back."

There it is. A line Seonghwa's heard time and time again. But this time, it's framed differently. No first kiss? Seonghwa empathizes with you, as a reaper who often wonders of the joys of living. Reapers, of course, weren't granted that chance; forged by the gods of death with the sole purpose of easing their jobs, reapers often face a tedious, repetitive life. Most were okay with it, as that is all they ever knew, but everyone hears stories of those driven crazy after too many interactions with humans.

"I cannot send you back. You're already dead, and that's out of my powers. I simply lead you to the proper afterlife."

Your posture drops as he explains this. All you ever wanted was a sweet love story in your life, and now it won't happen. Despite this, your urge to at least try something still rages within you. So much so that you don't even try to stop yourself from asking Seonghwa a desperate question.

"Could you show me what love is like? Or at least let me feel what it's like to kiss and touch someone?"

Caught off guard by the unexpected request, Seonghwa forgets his words for a moment, his mouth hanging open slightly. You look at him, anticipating his answer and hoping he'll give in.

"You want to kiss me? To touch me?"

"Why not? You have a pretty face, a nice voice, and probably a body sculpted by gods. Why wouldn't I? You seem nice, too."

Something in the naivety of your words pulls at him. Urges he didn't know he held surface as you pout at him, and he can't stop himself from wanting to show you everything he can before leading you to your final resting place. Here, in the confines of these smoke-colored walls where time stands still and everything lies in limbo, Seonghwa breaks his personal protocol to indulge in something dark bubbling inside him. Without saying another word, he pushes himself off the chair and kisses you. He moves so fast that you can't catch your breath before his lips are mingling roughly with yours. Your hands find their way to his chest while his snake behind you, one on your upper back and the other resting on your hip.

He brings you closer, tightening the gap. As you both pant out in breaks from the sloppy kiss, your body heats up. Although you're certain you can't be kissing very well based on how much more work he's doing, he doesn't seem to pay it any mind. His luscious lips overtake yours with ease, you feel every movement amplified. The moment his cold hands slide under the remaining fabric covering you, it feels so enticing against your hot body, cooling your back down with a simple touch. Slowly, you find him guiding you to lie on the bed. He hovers above you, looking down on you as he appreciates the look on your face - a look begging for more but not knowing what that might entail; a mix of fear and longing.

Your innocence spurs him on more than he thought possible; even just seeing you looking at him and trying to steady your breathing drives him insane. His usually loose pants much more snug thanks to his erection, Seonghwa refuses to hold himself back. With a quick swipe of his hand, your shirt rips apart, revealing your bare stomach and beautifully adorned chest. With a deep growl and another swipe, your pants fall to the sides of your legs, leaving you lying under him in your matching bra and panty set.

"What a wonderful color on you." His hand lingers on your waist as he admires how well the color of your underwear suits your skin tone, "I almost don't want to rip it off of you. Almost."

Leaning in, Seonghwa leaves kisses all over your uncovered body, marking you in places he knows will feel best for you - under your ear, along your collarbone, on both hips, right above the covered portion of your chest. Although his kisses are soft, his marks turn aggressive as he sucks hard and even bites down on some spots.

Along with the rough marking, his hands make quick work of the little remaining fabric on your body. When his lips reach fabric, he quickly works to remove it. Unlike before, he takes care not to rip apart your undergarments, bringing a temporary sense of kindness to his actions. Unbeknownst to you, he's careful with them so he can hold onto them after you leave him - a souvenir of sorts. That kindness doesn't last long, not when your naked body is on full display for him. Looking down at you, he can feel himself salivate at your inexperience as it leaves you slightly covering yourself in nervousness. His eyes darken before he moves further down the bed, spreading your legs to place his face snuggly between them.

"Y-You don't have to-"

"Sweetheart," he growls as he peeks up at you, "What fun would it be if I didn't show you everything?"

Kissing and nibbling the skin on your inner thigh, his silky black hair prickles against your other leg. The closeness of the sensations to your throbbing core makes you squirm involuntarily. Feeling him chuckle against your thigh, your hands fly to your face as it heats up from the embarrassment. After giving both thighs plenty of attention, he centers himself, proud to see you soaking already. Running a finger through your folds, he uses your arousal to coat his fingers before sliding them inside you, one at a time. At the first insertion, your body tenses in response to the newfound sensation. You expected that you'd feel similar to when you do it, but the angle, the size, the speed - everything feels so different. He moves the finger in and out before adding his second one, stretching your tense body out some more.

He kisses your thigh as his fingers curl inside of you, "Relax, sweetheart. Believe me, it'll feel so much better when you untense yourself. Breathe. Enjoy it."

At his coaxing, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Letting yourself relax, you notice the knots in your body fading, replaced with the intense warmth of your core and the slow, intoxicating movement of his fingers inside you. Noticing this, Seonghwa leans in, swirling his tongue around your folds and quickly finding your clit. He's careful and calculated in his movements here, not wanting to overwhelm you just yet. But he knows exactly how to work you up, and you feel something build inside you. You recognize this feeling and let your hips grind against him as you chase after the high you desire. He flattens his tongue against your clit, the roughness and pressure sending you over the edge. He continues curling his fingers perfectly inside you as you ride through your orgasm, the feeling rippling through you.

Slowly removing his fingers from you, you wince at the emptiness, but he caresses your cheek and shushes you as he lifts himself again. Dragging his shirt over his head, you gawk at his torso. He's slim but well-built. Not quite six-pack well, but the soft lines running down his abs look better without the added dimension. You lift your hand to drag your fingertips over his body, but he's too busy tearing his pants down to give you a chance. Your gaze drops as he moves, drawn to his cock standing tall and proud. You were right - he's definitely sculpted by gods, and whoever made him needed to be worshipped even more. How could a dick be good-looking? Everything you'd seen before was not for looking, but his looked delicious, curving upward slightly and built to spread someone open in the best ways.

While you're busy gawking at him, he climbs above you again. Grabbing your jaw roughly and forcing your gaze back to his face, he smirks.

"My face is up here, love. What could possibly be better to look at than this face?"

Crashing his lips against yours again, he doesn't need to hear an answer. Holding himself up with one arm, he moves a hand between his legs. Grabbing himself, he coats his length in your fluids by rubbing himself between your folds. The small touches leave you begging for more as he pulls his lips off of yours.

"Please... I need it."

"Oh? You need it? What a gorgeous sentence to fall from your breathless lips. Well, let me oblige."

Lining his tip up with your entrance, he slowly pushes in, stretching you out even with such a small amount. Growling with a clenched jaw, he manages to keep his pace despite wanting to bury himself entirely inside you. After a painfully long wait, he bottoms out inside of you. His length brings tears to your eyes, but they don't overflow. The burning stretch shifts away after a while, but your breath remains caught in your throat.

Pecking your lips and rubbing your cheek with his knuckles, he praises you, "You're doing so well. You can take all of me. Good job, baby girl. Let me know when you're ready."

His kind words calm you down, allowing your breathing to return to you. when the burn fades completely and your body adjusts to his size, you wiggle a bit, urging movement.

"Use your words, sweetheart. Are you ready?"

"Yessir. Please move."

Once again, your innocence feeds his urge to ruin you entirely. With your sweet voice and naivety of what it'll feel like when he moves, he throws out his plan to ease you into everything. Pulling back slowly, he slams into you, his hips hitting your thighs on impact. He keeps going at this pace, roughly slamming into you again and again. Your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth falls open, noises messily leaving your lips as your brain muddles. His hands grip your thighs, fingernails digging into your flesh as he uses his grip to pull you into him. Filling the room with the sounds of sex, Seonghwa's head falls back for a moment as he enjoys the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

"Seonghwa," his name falls softly from your lips, "I'm gonna-"

Unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm crashes upon you, Seonghwa groans at the sensation of you finishing around him. He picks up his pace, sloppily pounding into you as he chases his own high. Leaning forward into you, his head falls into the crook of your neck, teeth gripping onto your skin as he finishes inside you. Feeling the warm liquid shooting into you, you feel strangely complete, as if all you needed to feel alive again was a grim reaper's cum.

As Seonghwa lies on top of you, your collective pants now the only sounds in the small room, you thank him for obliging in your silly request. The embarrassment of begging a total stranger to take your virginity finally hits you, so you add a small apology at the end.

Brushing your hair with his fingertips, he replies, "Don't apologize. Thank you for letting me be your experience, it awakened and quelled a desire I didn't realize I had."

"'Your experience,' that's funny. Since it's my first and last, right? You'll be all I know." You poke fun at the situation in front of you, trying to relieve the nerves slowly gathering about the afterlife.

"Good." He growls out deeply. "Keep it that way. It makes me so happy knowing that you really are all mine."

Tags: @dimpledsatan-recs @mo0nbeams

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Question Best Left Unanswered

Okay so this one kinda got away from me and I had a grand old time with it. It's so silly and stupid but it brought me joy.

Anyways, have some more Summoned!König. This time featuring relationship angst and questions about anatomy.

TWs: discussion of sexual activity, NSFW content

Wordcount: 4.2K (it's a whopper here)

Story below the cut

Images courtesy of this post

A Question Best Left Unanswered

You hung your head in shame as you hung up the phone. What a disaster that last call had been.

The entire hour-long phonecall you’d just had with your parents had just ended up with them berating you for a good forty-five minutes before they gave up on trying to reach you. First your father had shamed you for ruining the family name, then your mother cried that she didn’t know where she went wrong with you. All those years of preparing you to be a summoner, only for you to turn out to be a miserable failure.

By the end, you’d just barely been able to hold back your tears. Once you hung up the phone, they fell freely down your cheeks as you hurriedly scurried to your room.

Of course, it couldn’t be so simple because your friend had just turned the corner as you reached your door.

“Hey!” she called with a wave, only to retract it nervously when you turned to face her, “woah. Are you okay?”

You nodded but before you could leave, your friend clasped a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re not okay,” she said grimly, “do you want to get something from the caf?”

You hesitated. Normally, you wouldn’t be willing to eat anything until dinner came around, but the call with your parents sat wrong in your stomach. It wasn’t much, but maybe a bite to eat would help.

“Sure,” you conceded, “let’s go.”

---

With a plate of crackers and fruit in front of you, the most the chefs on base would give you, you broke down and told your friend about the call.

“Your parents suck,” your friend spat, “like, who does that? I just can’t believe anyone would say that, especially not to their own kid.”

“They’re not usually that bad,” you weakly tried to defend them, but today your heart just wasn’t in it.

“Are you sure?” your friend asked as they took a bite of their veggie sandwich.

You sighed heavily.

“I just wish they would as least pretend to be proud of me,” you stirred your drink with your straw slowly, “I mean, I didn’t ask to be born like this. Why is it my fault that I can’t control my summon? He’s literally an avatar. An avatar. Those are like, the hardest summons to try to control.”

“Actually I think a legend might be,” your friend interjected, food spitting out their mouth as they spoke, “or maybe an immortal. I don’t think anyone’s managed to control a god before…”

“Okay yeah sure but it doesn't change the fact that he’s an avatar. Of chaos,” you wiped the chewed up spittle off your sleeves with a brush of your hand, “and I’m, well, you know, me. There’s no way I can handle König.”

“His name is König?” your friend asked.

“Yeah,” you took a sip of your drink, “he’s pretty nice honestly. Last week he got me my stuffed animals and the game boy I lost from my old home.”

Your friend looked at you with wide, unblinking eyes. Their jaw dropped to their chest for a moment before they were able to gather their composure.

“No fucking way,” she muttered.

“What?” you snorted, “aren’t all summons like that?”

Your friend shook her head hard enough to make you worry her neck would snap.

“No? I don’t even know my fire imp’s name, or my water sprite. They’re just my summons,” your friend explained, “most of the time they just tolerate me because they can’t kill me.”

“Don’t you form bonds with them?” you asked, now curious.

“Nope,” your friend snorted, “my water imp sprite tried to drown me when I first summoned it. Most summons try to kill their summoners as soon as they figure out that they’re not in the other realm.”

“König’s never hurt me,” you admitted.

“Never? Has he ever tried to?” your friend leaned back with an awestruck expression.

“Not once,” you confided.

“So you’re not the one that made König your mate?” your friend put together slowly, “König made you his mate!?”

You grimaced and leaned back from her, “Pretty much.”

Your friend whistled, “No fuckin’ shot. I can’t believe you bagged an avatar of chaos. Like, you realize how insane that sounds, right?”

You blinked. You hadn’t really thought about it that way. You’d always just seen it as König sparing your life, but the thought that somehow you were the one to seduce an avatar of chaos brought you a spark of joy.

“I guess you’re right,” you agreed timidly, “I just thought that he was lonely.”

Your friend snorted, “I mean probably, yeah, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he chose you as a mate,” she thought for a moment, took a bite of her sandwich and then asked, “wait, so if you’re a human and he’s an avatar, what will your kids look like?”

You flushed and turned to hide your face, but your friend was quicker.

“Wait, have you actually thought about that?” she teased you lightly.

“I mean, we’ve never actually… You know… We’re not really a couple,” you admitted.

“So you’re not banging him?” your friend raised an eyebrow.

“No?” you gasped, horrified by your friend’s suggestions, “I barely even know him!”

“But like,” your friend pressed their lips into a line. She studied you carefully before she finally asked, “Aren’t you curious?”

“About what? Fucking him?” you raised your eyebrows at the suggestion.

“I mean yeah, but like…” your friend leaned in close again, “what does he even look like?”

“I…” you paused, “I actually don’t know.”

Your friend took a bite of her salad before pointing her fork at you, “We need to fix that.”

“We!?”

“Well now I’m curious,” your friend shrugged, “so now it’s not an ish-you kind of problem, it’s an ish-us.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” you sputtered.

“Point is that I-sorry we need to figure this out. I mean,” your friend tossed you a sly look, “if you’re gonna have his kids you’re gonna have to find out one way or another.”

You were at a loss for words. All you could do was stare at the woman who sat across the table from you, almost as though she herself were an avatar of chaos.

Your friend scowled, “What?”

—

You slowed your pace to a crawl as you approached your dorm. It wasn’t that you weren’t eager to go to bed, rather the contrary, but the thought of facing König tonight made your cheeks burn bright red.

Ever since your conversation with your friend, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about König. You already thought about König a bit too much for your own comfort, but you’d never thought about König like this before. It wasn’t like you were a prude by any means, but you’d never actually considered being with König like that before.

It’s not that it had never come up, you still remembered König trying to take you almost immediately after claiming you as his mate, but ever since he’d been nothing but respectful of the boundaries you'd since put up If anything, he was sometimes more respectful of your own boundaries than you were. Maybe he read your mind more than he let on, but you liked to think he was just thoughtful. After all, if you’d been around since the beginning of time, wouldn’t you be considerate and patient? You liked to think you’d be, but you had your doubts.

Thinking about König had you blushing as you walked down the hallway to your dorm. You could see the door all the way from here, only occasionally being obscured by a summoner retreating into their dorm for the evening. Occasionally, you could see a summon tagging behind them, most often looking rather irritated or depressed, something you’d never really noticed before.

Most summons were kept in the other realm unless they were actively being called upon. Some summoners like to keep their summons by their side, almost as though they were a beloved pet. You thought to your meditation teacher with his summon. Other times, you saw summoners struggling to manage their summons. In fact, the one class you excelled in was protecting yourself against your summon. Of course, the only reason you did so well was because König never tried to attack you in the first place. Your sergeant had been frustrated at first, but after further consideration decided to take it as your summon being too attached to you to consider attacking you. With this in mind, she gave you a bright and shining report. She then promptly told you to never take her class again. You were more than happy to comply.

Of course, König didn’t always help during your training. In fact, he seemed to prefer leaving you to your own devices whenever possible. He’d once explained that he gave you minimal support to encourage you to train harder to keep up with your peers, but you decidedly figured it was because he was too lazy to help. König only rolled his eyes when you told him that and decidedly vanished to the other realm for the rest of the night.

Your doorway grew closer and closer with each step you took. You wished that you could find a way to avoid going back to your dorm, but lights out drew nearer and nearer the longer your tried to put off entering your one personal area.

Finally, you reached your dorm. With a heavy sigh, you opened the door and stepped inside.

Surprisingly, König wasn’t there to greet you.

“König?” you called out carefully, but no reply came back to you.

You walked towards your desk.

“König?” you called again, but again there was no response.

Maybe he was occupied for the evening.

A sudden rush of relief overcame you. The absolute last thing you wanted to do was face König while your conversation with your friend was still fresh on your mind. That said, you had the strong suspicion that a night of good rest wouldn’t be enough to shake the thoughts from your head. With the way the question had fixed itself to your mind, you had the dreadful feeling that the only way to find some sort of satisfactory answer was to progress your relationship with König.

But were you ready to go that far? You’d shared a kiss, but since then, König had kept his distance. He was strangely considerate of the trepidation you felt whenever the thought of being in a romantic relationship with König crossed your mind. How would that even work? You were a mortal. Your life was but a blink of his eyes. And yet, despite your limited lifespan, he chose to spend this fraction of his life by your side. Was he amused by the whims of his new plaything? Was he simply toying with you until he chose to rend the soul from your mortal flesh? The thought made you nauseous.

But why did it make you nauseous? Why did the thought of König’s ultimate betrayal feel like a stone in the pit of your stomach? Why did your eyes sting and your throat clench when you thought of how little you matter to a being as grand and powerful as König?

You had an idea of what was behind the feelings, but you daren’t give it any room to breath, never mind grow within your mind’s garden. You’d instead stamp it out, coat it in salt and rip it from the earth like a weed. Of course, the roots went deeper than you could imagine.

You slumped into the plushest chair your company could buy in the corner of your room. It was worn, tired; it had seen many generations of new and upcoming summoners such as yourself. The thought gave way to an ache deep inside your chest.

You wiped your sleeves over the tears that flowed from your eyes. You didn’t consider yourself to be of the weeping sort, but since König had entered your life, he’d seemingly turned everything upside down, including how you operated in your day-to-day life. A part of you hated it, a louder part wished to take it all with open arms. You despised both parts for their respective tenacity. 

You allowed yourself to curl up for what felt like forever before you managed to come to terms with your fears.

You would be nothing to him. You were a speck in his eye, if anything. You were naught but dust, and you would have to content yourself with such an existence. Now as to why König had taken such a shining to you, that was beyond your comprehension. If you had the mind of Aristotle, Diogenes, or Plato maybe you could have come to terms with your existence in relation to the greater world. Had you a mind of Camus, Cant or Descarte maybe you could content yourself with the meaning of your existence itself. But you had no such mind, now did you? You were weak and feeble, a summoner with all the potential one could hope for at your fingertips yet hindered by your own inability to understand the ethos of methods that had been passed on like the summoners passed before them.

You felt the tears subside briefly to allow you a moment to recover from the throes of your emotions. Unfortunately, just as you felt yourself wrangling your emotions back under your control, the pot lights flickered.

“No not now…” you groaned and curled further into the safety of the chair.

“Did I come at a bad time?” König crossed his arms as he stared at you from the centre of the room.

“Can you please go away?” you sighed as you turned away from him.

König hummed before stalking to your side, “I think that it would be wrong of me to abandon my mate when they’re in such a state.”

At the mention of ‘mate’, you groaned and ducked your head between your knees.

König paused, then drew away. He came back moments later to swath you in a warm blanket before he crouched in front of you.

“It seems something troubles you, summoner,” König droned as you drew the blankets around your form.

“I’m fine,” you spat bitterly.

König barked out a laugh before ruffling your hair affectionately, “You certainly are in quite a mood, aren’t you?”

“Just go away,” you grumbled.

König drummed his claws over his knee. His scales rippled in the crepuscular light that shone into your room, his onyx scales shining almost iridescent in the warm dying rays of sun.

“Must I read my mate’s mind to understand what troubles them so?”

You grumbled and ducked your head under the blanket.

König sighed. He stretched up with cracking joints, and you’d hoped he’d left until you felt him pull your blankets from your head. You tried to struggle against him, but he didn’t so much as budge while you writhed. With a sigh, you conceded and allowed him to pull the blankets to the side to see you properly.

“Well, summoner?”

“I just was thinking about us…” you admitted.

“Us? In what sense?” König asked, already fully aware of your answer.

“Like, we’re mates, right?” you tucked your nose to your knees, “but I don’t know why.”

König hummed, then drew you up into his arms. You struggled and spat, but he held you before he sat down on the sofa with a loud poomf as the air was punched out from the pillows.

“You don’t understand why I chose you,” König surmised quickly.

You didn’t dare meet his eyes as you nodded.

“Well,” König adjusted you so you sat upright in his lap, “I’d say it makes perfect sense.”

You stared at him blankly.

“That reaction of yours is exactly why it makes sense,” König explained, “a being of chaos is likely to tear you asunder. Maybe enslave you, maybe curse you for thousands of generations to come. It’s expected that something horrible would happen.”

“So you chose me because it was the random choice?” you asked.

“I chose you because I saw your potential,” König explained, “and, of course, you're right as what greater delight is there than to choose the opposite of the expected outcome? Why follow your expected order when I can tie you to my side for millennia to come?”

You scowled, “So you chose to be my mate because you thought it would be funny.”

König shook his head, “You could take it that way, but that would be unwise. Rather, I chose you as a mate because I saw your potential and wanted to see it through.

“You were set up to fail, you realize this?" König stared deep into your eyes, "the chalk you used to summon me was imbued to ensure that whatever was summoned would be more than you could ever hope to control. The patterns they gave you were far too complex for a beginner summoner. You were supposed to be torn apart.”

You froze in König’s arms.

“Yes, you were meant to die. But when I looked at you, marked for death by those envious of your potential,” König’s smirk was woven into his words, “I saw that potential of yours and I saw an opportunity. I saw a way to usurp the delicate balance of power this world has.”

“So I’m a pawn to you,” you felt the tears stinging behind your eyes again.

“Not in the slightest,” König chided you patiently, “I saw you for your potential and I saw someone who just needed a push. Someone who just needed someone to help them see their own worth. And that someone, dear summoner, was none other than myself.”

“That still makes me sound like a pawn,” you complained.

“Then I’ll tell you this: I chose you because I saw what we could become together,” König whispered into your ear, “I see you now, mind you. I see you and I am enthralled by you in all your strange and truly wonderful ways.

“I want you to listen carefully summoner, as this is a lesson that will be tattooed into your veins: I love you for you. I love you for who you’ve been, who you are, who you will be. I love you for all of you, completely and forever.”

You flushed brightly. Instead of replying, you simply tucked your face into yourself to avoid having to meet his eyes. Of course, the joy of being loved could only last so long in the shadow of a more pressing problem.

“I’m assuming forever is until I die,” you sighed.

“Yes? That’s what will happen, yes,” König told you plainly, “as it will happen to myself. We will die together.”

Your eyes snapped wide open as you whirled around to look him in the eyes.

“Calm yourself, summoner,” König huffed, “what makes you think that will be soon?”

“I mean, soon for you,” you muttered bitterly.

“Soon for me?” König chortled, “I don’t think that day will come anytime soon. You’re my mate summoner, you’ll be with me until we die.”

You stared at him, “So, in seventy years?”

König reeled back in shock, “Seventy years? That’s nothing! You’ll be with me for the rest of my natural life!”

You blinked.

“But…” you glared at him, “but that’s like… I’ll never get that old.”

“Summoner,” König drawled, "have you not considered that when mated to me, certain aspects of your life will change?”

Honestly, the thought hadn’t crossed your mind.

“No, you didn’t think that,” König concluded after looking into your eyes, “well let me be the one to inform you that your natural life has been extended exponentially to match mine. You’ll be with me until the bitter end, I’m afraid. Or at least, for as long as you’ll take me as your mate.”

“I mean, I’m pretty happy with you,” you admitted.

“I’d hope so,” König sniffed.

“Don’t be like that,” you huffed.

“Be like what, upset that you’d be anything other than infatuated with me?” König retorted.

“Infatuated?” you laughed, “that’s a lot to ask for, isn’t it?”

“Not when it’s already provided,” König booped your nose, much to your dismay.

“I’m not infatuated-what? Where are you getting that from!?” you snapped as König threw his head back with a gurgling laugh.

“I jest, summoner,” König gave you a light kiss from beneath his mask, feeling more like being pinched by something sharp than being kissed on the cheek. You pushed his face away which he only just allowed before hugging you close.

“Now, summoner,” König rubbed his cheek against yours, leaving behind a thin sheen of something that smelled strongly of König, “I can tell there is more on your mind.”

“No there isn’t,” you lied weakly.

“No? There’s nothing I can answer for you?” König trilled.

“Nope,” you turned your face away from him, “I know everything.”

“Not yet, summoner,” König laughed.

“And who are you to question my endless knowledge?” you huffed haughtily as you cast him a downright scathing side-eye.

“Oh, nobody important,” König lay back in the seat, “only the being that saw the creation of your universe and will live to see its death.”

You rolled your eyes, already over his ‘holier than thou’, or rather, ‘more worldly than thou’ attitude.

“So tell me summoner,” König’s hand wandered down your torso, “isn’t there more on your mind?”

You flushed scarlet. He really was determined to get to the bottom of this, wasn’t he? A part of you felt that he was only pushing you this way to further tease you, but you couldn’t help the genuine curiosity bubbling forth.

“I mean, maybe,” you conceded, “but it’s nothing important.”

“I would say otherwise,” König tucked your face into his clavicle.

“Well,” you started, emboldened now that you didn’t have to look your mate in the eyes, “I was talking with a friend about you.”

“Were you now?” König drawled.

“And uh, we were talking about how you chose to be my mate, not the other way around. So, we got to talking about it, and…” you trailed off shamefully.

“Talking about us being mates? I can imagine a great myriad of topics can come forth from such a nebulous beginning,” König brushed his claws through your hair with surprisingly tender care.

“Well, we were kinda talking about what it would be like for you to fuck me?” you squeaked out.

König paused in his ministrations, seemingly shocked by your forwardness.

“I’d hope it would be pleasurable for both of us,” König stated, still befuddled by your answer.

“Well that’s what we started talking about, and then it went on to what your dick looked like?” if you didn’t think your voice could go any higher, you’d be poorly mistaken.

König slowly leaned back to be able to look you in the eyes.

His voice sounded like it was coming from deep under the ocean, “Excuse me?”

If you weren’t so embarrassed you might have laughed at your ability to shock a being older than time itself. Evidently, though König could see the ways time shifted and cross, was able to see all the possible outcomes of an event, even he couldn’t predict just how horny you were.

“I mean, it’s just like,” you shrugged, “if I wanna have your kid I’d probably have to figure it out at some point, right?”

König nodded mutely.

“Do you…” you looked him dead in the eyes, “do you even have a dick?”

König blinked.

“Yes?” he stared back at you, “I mean, what did you expect?”

You shrugged, “Maybe a cloaca?”

You could see the furious horror that washed over König’s face despite the mask.

“I do not have a cloaca and whoever told you that is a cheat, a fiend and a liar!”

Evidently someone had history.

“It’s a reasonable thing to think!” you protested, “I mean, you’ve got this whole bird-y ocean thing going on with you? It’s a vibe, sure, but it doesn’t give me much room to work with.”

"I have a what-You know what, nevermind, I don’t want to hear it,” König groaned as he rolled his eyes, “but yes I do in fact have a ‘dick’ as you refer to it. I don’t know why you’d think-”

“It was the water bird thing!”

“Why you’d think my 'vibe' might change that. I am… Wait, I don’t actually know what your species looks like,” König dropped his hands, “one moment please summoner,” he placed a thumb against your forehead, and immediately you felt your entire body go numb. After only a minute had passed, König withdrew his thumb, and with it came the return of your senses.

“Well that was informative,” König grumbled, “but not particularly helpful. I am realizing that I’m… Different from your species. Significantly so.”

“That’s really not helpful,” you flushed, “I mean, you could just show me…”

König pressed another pinching kiss to your forehead, “My mate, I think we should wait until you’re ready to go that far.”

You squirmed in his lap, “I mean, it can’t be that bad…”

“You can wait,” König tucked you back to his chest, “I assure you it won’t change for another thousand years.”

“Wait, it changes?” you spluttered.

“I reserve my right to remain silent,” König replied.

“You sure don’t use it often,” you grumbled only to find your lips pressed firmly together into a line. Despite your best efforts, your lips remained stuck in place.

König sighed and settled back into the sofa, “Much better.”

You were going to kill him, you swore by it.

AU Masterlist

[karinzany]

SPOILERS: Chapter 1094 of ONE PIECE

We've finally seen St. Jaygarcia Saturn's real form on chapter 1094, and it is absolutely diabolical. It seems to be inspired by a yōkai called Ushi-oni. So I went back to chapter 1085 and tried to connect the rest of the Gorosei with other yōkai. Here are my predictions:

Ushi-oni: In Wakayama Prefecture, ushi-oni are mountain-dwelling beasts. Legend says when a hiker or traveler makes eye contact with the ushi-oni, the person cannot avert his or her gaze. The person's soul or energy is drained and he or she dies. This is called “Kage wo kuu (影を食う)” or sometimes "Kage wo nomu (影を飲む)", which translates to “eating the shadow” or "drinking the soul".

Aosaginohi: Aosaginohi, or Aosagibi (青(あお)鷺(さぎ)火(び), "blue heron fire") is a phenomenon illustrated by Toriyama Sekien in his Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki. It depicts a night heron with a mysteriously illuminated body. Folklore built around the phenomenon tells a story of an old black-crowned night heron transforming into a yokai. The herons' feathers fuse into shining scales that give off an iridescent blue light in the dark of night. The yokai's breath is also said to release golden powder into the air that collects to form a heat-less fiery light, though this light eventually dissipates in the wind. The harmless creature is said to flee from human contact, retaining a normal heron's shyness. Legend also warns to not confuse the glimmering blue-white light with onibi lights.

Baku: Baku (獏 or 貘) are Japanese supernatural beings that are said to devour nightmares. According to legend, they were created by the spare pieces that were left over when the gods finished creating all other animals. They have a long history in Japanese folklore and art, and more recently have appeared in manga and anime. The Japanese term baku has two current meanings, referring to both the traditional dream-devouring creature and to the Malayan tapir. In recent years, there have been changes in how the baku is depicted.

Benzaiten: Benzaiten (shinjitai: 弁才天 or 弁財天; kyūjitai: 辯才天, 辨才天, or 辨財天, lit. "goddess of eloquence"), also simply known as Benten (shinjitai: 弁天; kyūjitai: 辯天 / 辨天), is a Japanese Buddhist goddess who originated mainly from Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of speech, the arts, and learning, with certain traits deriving from the warrior goddess Durga. Due to her status as a water deity, she was also linked with nāgas, dragons, and snakes. Apart from being a patron of music and the arts, she was eventually also worshiped as a bestower of monetary fortune and was reckoned as one of the Seven Lucky Gods (Shichifukujin).

Ōkubi: In Japanese folklore, Ōkubi (大首) are giant heads of either men or women. An Ōkubi appearing in the sky is a sign of impending disaster, which may be a typhoon, earthquake, tsunami, or fire. These disasters are often attributed to the Ōkubi. Ōkubi are otherwise harmless and will disappear soon after the first sighting. They are thought to be sky spirits who protect the sky's or people who died during a natural disaster. They are said to protect people from the natural disasters and protect the sky from demonic sky spirits. It is said if one does not pay respect for the Ōkubi, they will be turned into sky spirits and their face will appear in the sky immediately. Those who do pay respect are said to get good fortune and gifts.

PS.: This silhouette probably belongs to Imu themselves, but I can't figure out what yōkai or supernatural being it represents. What are your theories?

EDIT: Thank you @ozo-blog and @marimo-kyun for your suggestion!

On chapter 1069, Vegapunk said that Devil Fruits earned the ire of Mother Nature, which is the Sea itself. The name Imu can be read as Umi backwards, meaning "Sea" in Japanese. So, maybe Imu has a power that controls the sea? Umibozu would be on theme for them.

Umibōzu: Umibōzu (海坊主, "sea priest") is a paranormal phenomenon or yōkai from Japanese folklore. Other names include Umihōshi (海法師, "sea priest") or Uminyūdō (海入道, "sea priest"). Little is known of the origin of umibōzu but it is a sea-spirit and as such has multiple sightings throughout Japan. Normally, umibōzu appears to sailors on calm seas which quickly turn tumultuous. It either breaks the ship on emergence or demands a bucket or barrel from the sailors and proceeds to drown them. The only safe way to escape an umibōzu is to give it a bottomless barrel and sail away while it is confused.

Alternative: I've also seen another theory that says Imu could be Satan (from the Bible, yes) because he has a Red Dragon form that could relate to the Celestial Dragon's symbol, a red dragon hoof.

Red Dragon (Biblical Satan): The Red Dragon is a form of the Biblical Satan, otherwise known as Lucifer, the former Seraphim that rebelled against the Creator and became evil in Christianity and Hebrew religions. His alias, the Red Dragon, was described in the Bible to have seven heads, ten horns, seven crowns, and a massive tail that knocks one-third of the stars out of the sky. The Red Dragon is mentioned to have other names like the Serpent of Old and the Devil. It is said in the Bible that Satan will take the form of the Red Dragon and will along with the Antichrist, the False Prophet, and the Beast, deceive most of Humanity. After that the Red Dragon will be set free upon the world in which he will rule alongside demons for three long years. After that God will cast the Red Dragon, demons, and other dammed evil souls into Lake of Fire, thus finally destroying the evil of Satan forever.

During the time-skip, we've seen Brook being accidentally summoned by a Satanic cult, which implies the existence of Satan in the One Piece world. Now, on chapter 1094, we've seen again a summoning circle, this time for St. Jaygarcia Saturn. I think it's pretty obvious the connection between real world devils and the Gorosei and Imu.

It's all going to come to the ironic conclusion that the D. clan, the enemies of the Gods, are Gods themselves (like Nika) and the Celestial Dragons, the Gods of the world, are actual Devils.

[astonmartingf]

YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND—

— co-parenting with alonso has been smooth sailing, until he starts dropping hints that he wants to be with you again

P5 ★ LATE NIGHT DATE DISASTER

amgf almost 3k words i think? i'm back! honestly this was a fun write. mention of lewis and his story enjoy the condom ig? iykyk, also see you for the second half of this story we're almost ending guys 🫡 special chapter tomorrow or maybe later tonight :p

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You don't try to hide the nervous feeling inside your chest, granted it was your first time out on a date with anyone for that matter. And even more so with Alonso, the last time you went on a date with him Ales wasn't in the picture, and even after then— things went downhill for your relationship.

"Lance! You know what to do right?" You call your cousin from your bedroom. He arrived two hours early after Ales' afternoon nap and looked after him while you "prepare for your date." It was unnecessary but grateful nonetheless, Lance gave you a few dating tips in the modern times.

The thought made your eyes roll, it wasn't like dating then and now had any difference, granted the only person you dated was Alonso but it wasn’t that long ago since you went out on a date right?

“You better not use Ales as an excuse to skip out on a date, especially this one because it’s with your baby daddy, co-parent partner Fernando Alonso.” You cringe inwardly hearing your cousin talking about Alonso, knowing they also race for the same team.

“Okay, first off all what the fuck are you talking about. Second, do you actually talk to him like that?” Lance enters the room with Ales in tow, dressed up in matching pajamas with a mischievous look on his face, a telling sign of Lance possibly corrupting his young mind, or you finding another excuse to ditch a date.

“Well… there’s not much of a difference, but I do speak more freely to you than to him. So I’m just saying all this as your baby cousin Lance and as Nando’s teammate Lance. Anyways, we’re helping you outside and watching you from the driveway, are you driving?” 

You walk, Lance following you closely behind to the front door, “I offered to meet there but he’s picking me up. A proper date he said.”

Lance nods to himself, “I get it… I mean thinking back of the previous dates you’ve ditched, picking you up would be a sure fire way to have you on the actual date itself. Points for Nando today, soon he’ll get closer to the pole position.” Lance winks before raising his eyebrows suggestively, making you shudder at his stupid innuendos.

“Lance! That’s your teammate for God’s sake, and I’m your older cousin, respect us at least. Pole position? Ugh, you’re such a child. The more words that come out of your mouth, the more you’re convincing me not to leave you alone with my child. You’ll be the one going out the door with Alonso after all this.”

“Hey,” Lance holds his hands up in surrender, “I was joking, I swear no more. I will shut up, look Nando is at the gate already. Would you look at that, it’s time to go.” 

Leaving you no time to respond, Lance pushes you out the door handing a purse in your hands, the contents inside are your phone, lip gloss, a small perfume bottle, and a piece of condom. You turn around glaring at your cousin, watching through the glass window, a smirk full of mischief behind them. 

You shake your head disappointed, pulling your phone you frantically type a message before meeting Alonso waiting patiently leaning at the passenger door. “How long have you been waiting?”

It was only then that Alonso looked up, “Not too long ago… Wow— Hello. Uhm… you look absolutely stunning, breath-taking.” 

A smile grows on your face, “You don’t look bad yourself, it’s been a while huh? This…”

Alonso nods his head, opening the door for you. You sit in the car, as you catch him taking a deep breath then fixing up his suit before entering the car with what seems to be a nervous smile on his face. 

Hopefully he’s as nervous as you— sitting up straight, hands building sweat as your breaths shorten the close proximity making you feel as if there’s a limited amount of air for you to breathe. It was new and jarring. You’ve been inside a car with Alonso before, but usually you have Ales or a surgery case in mind, now it’s just you two— not as Ales’ parents but as Alonso and YN.

“I’m nervous… truth be told, I haven’t thought this far ahead, I was stuck between asking you on a date and the ways to convince you. I’ve been scrambling around like a headless chicken on what to do, but I thought about your schedule and wanted to do something more chill and laid-back night out. No stress, fingers crossed.” Alonso laughs, taking small glances in your direction and focusing on the road ahead of him.

Your heart warms at Alonso’s train of thought, his attention to detail of your schedule leaves you in awe. You feel transported back in your 20s as Alonso picks you up from work during your anniversary and opting to stay in instead of celebrating out making sure you’re well rested.

Greeted by the familiar gates of his house, Alonso pulls his car in the driveway, opening your side of the door. “I thought we could eat dinner and talk in the safety of my house, is that okay? I forgot to tell you, maybe we could’ve worn something more casual but what’s wrong with dressing up for the occasion right?”

Taking Alonso’s hands you laugh at his words, “It’s all good, I think the outfits help bring the vibe. I mean where else will I get the chance to dress up outside charity events in the hospital? Thank you for bringing us here, I prefer the comfort of your home as well, and if you’re cooking it might beat whatever food I’m craving at the moment.”

Alonso opens the door, and you are greeted with a candle-lit kitchen, the lights in the living room set to dim with the soft sound of a piano playing somewhere completing the atmosphere of the house. “For some who’s been scrambling like a headless chicken this seems well thought out.” Shrugging your coat off, revealing the back of your dress— Alonso’s breath hitches, taking the coat from your arms. He couldn’t help but stare, especially when you’re looking this good, it would be illegal, the thoughts and words wanting to spill out of his mouth.

“You take my breath away as ever. I don’t think I’ll get used to this.” You laugh at Alonso playfully rolling your eyes, slapping his hands— you try not to get his words the best of you. Despite your heart going over 300 kilometers as blood rushes through your cheeks, you shake your head knowing how well Alonso is with words. “What are you not getting used to?”

“I don’t think I’ll get used to you being the mother of my child.” A small gasp escapes your lips, his words catching you off guard. You tilt your head, unsure of what Alonso meant by his words. “I think I got lucky, despite all that happened, you’re here and I’m spending time with Ales. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

A small smile escapes your lips, nodding to yourself, “I’m glad we worked things out, I think I can confidently say I’m happy of how far we’ve come, not just as Ales’ parents but our relationship has gotten better.”

Alonso laughs in agreement, before ushering you to one of the seats in the kitchen island watching him cook him your meal, catching up on things and what not. It was comfortable, and relieving, as time passes by you grow confident at how things are with you and Alonso. Sipping wine, laughing at jokes, and taking jibes at your situation— two years ago this would’ve never happened, you wouldn’t have let yourself feel vulnerable in front of him. 

Two years ago you only saw him as Ales’ father, but now he was your friend, Alonso. You take a sip of the wine as Alonso recalls a story from the past causing an outburst from you ending up in a debate on what actually happened.

“That wasn’t it, Lewis told me what happened between him and Nico.” Alonso glanced in your direction, brows raised at the revelation. “How come you know? I didn’t hear about this.”

You were taken aback, “Lewis called me the night after. and I may have helped him from Nico…” 

This time it was Alonso who gasped, leaning on the table waiting for you to tell more about the story, “I saw them fight, and Nico’s sister was there, watching it unfold with me, I couldn’t just stand and watch, I helped Lewis and left. Frankly it was none of my business and neither should you ask me about it.”

Squinting his eyes, Alonso pieces out the timeline before staring right through your eyes, “You were there when she gave birth right?” 

You press your lips into a thin line, “I can neither confirm nor deny— patient confidentiality.” Shaking your head, you avoid the conversation all together, thinking back of Lewis and Nico just opened a whole new can of worms you’re not ready to discuss, especially not to Alonso.

Despite your poor excuse, Alonso shrugs, letting you off and dropping the conversation completely. The night was slowly coming to an end, you helped Alonso with cleaning up not before another argument on cleaning up which you won in the end, leaving him no choice and instructing you to wipe the dishes after he cleans them.

You fall into the rhythm of habit that has once been for the two of you, nursing another glass of red as you sit on the couch with him as the night grows deeper. “I’m glad I got to do this with you, especially before the season starts. Maybe we can do this once a week with Ales next time.” 

Before the season starts.

Who would’ve thought that it would only take those two words before you escape the illusion of domesticity in front of you like a fish out of water. How long have you been talking without ever mentioning racing, ever? It was only then you realized that you never discussed racing with Alonso since.

You were feeling comfortable because of winter break, in your head he was just Ales’ father— but at the end of the day you’re forced to come back to reality, and he was still racing. And the season was about to begin. 

“The season is starting?” You repeat the words out of your own lips, you couldn’t believe it. The small bubble of you and Alonso actually working it out fades into thin air. And you find yourself falling into the same loop, facing the reality that things will never work out for you and Alonso. 

It didn’t happen then, and it wouldn’t happen now— especially not now, not until he chooses to race, and as far as you’d like to hold on, patiently waiting for him, you lose confidence in yourself to hold on any longer. With a man like Fernando— he wouldn’t end the blaze his firing up in his career, and as the season starts and holds promise, you doubt he would want to put a stop and end things.

Everything is hard, Alonso is a hard man to keep up with, he’s a beast on and off the track— as much as you’d prefer to have him all to yourself and Ales, you should’ve learned that by now. It’s selfish of you to demand of him, but whenever you see him with Ales, it’s tugging on your heart strings at his best efforts to form a relationship with him— not just Ales, but it’s slowly working on you. But you won’t let yourself forget.

In love there will always be choices, and for you, you’d rather not have Alonso at all if you’ll be sharing your time with him and his damn races. And this time, you’ll choose yourself and Ales all over again. “Shit, did I say something wrong?” You blink, staring at Alonso who was mumbling to himself.

Do you blame yourself for his worries?

At one point you did, but you know Alonso of all people will understand why you choose this, and as much as you want to try, it would be too much of a risk. “It’s about the start of the season right?”

Your silence only confirms Alonso’s worries, “I’m sorry YN, do you want to go home? I can take you-” you shake your head, placing the glass of wine on the coffee table, you up and leave not before grabbing your coat and purse from the kitchen island.

Alonso was much quicker, grabbing your arms, pulling you back in, resting his foot on the door stopping you from leaving. Opening your purse he holds his breath, after catching a glimpse of the condom in your purse, presumably ignoring it, he picks up your phone to message Lance.

“You’re not leaving at this time of night. I know you don’t want to stay any longer, but please wait for a few minutes. I messaged Lance and he’s on his way, please wait.”

Your lips twitch, your emotions and intuition conflicted at Alonso. Only he could set your heart into flames and you’d gladly walk through it if it’s him at the end waiting for you. Like a ticking time bomb, a test for your strength as your eyes wander all over his face.

“You know you can do whatever you want here, and after all of it you’re free to leave.” You suck in your teeth, this is the Fernando you knew— calculative. Proud. You knew he was playing mind games, but you couldn’t just get up and leave, not when Alonso racing causes a big effect on you, you’re on the losing side here. 

You step forward, walking towards the door, leaving Alonso no place to go, back flushed at the door, Alonso keeps his eyes on you, daring you to make a move. Inching closer, and closer, you press your body against him, hot breath fanning on his cheeks, keeping your eyes right through his. Knowing well that you can leave and make him want more, you keep your body tight against his, softly grazing your cheeks on the stubble of his beard.

His hands snake behind your back, back arching at the warmth of his hands, contradicting your cool back, lighting you ablaze as Alonso pulls you closer, for a kiss. Wet and hungry, you feel him smile as you smirk at him. Your fingers tingle, throwing them on top of Alonso’s hair, tugging and pulling them as he moves down your neck peppering them with kisses as your head lolls back giving him free range, like a painter presented with a blank canvas.

Your eyes roll, hips flushed against his, you’d gladly let yourself get lost in this moment, you’d gladly surrender yourself in his arms— but as much as you want to stay, the lights of Lance’s car pulling up outside the gate evokes a wake up call from you.

Pushing him away, you hand him the coat before turning around, it seems Alonso isn’t finished as he pulls you in closer for another kiss, whilst helping you put the coat on, pinning your ass flat against his before pressing sloppy kisses all over your neck. It was hot and heavy— head tilted to the side, as your hands ghost over his cheeks before yanking him away from you.

You stand in front of him, eyes staring over his brown ones as you watch a reflection of yourself, you wipe the smudged lipstick with your thumb before smearing it all over Alonso’s lips. You could barely ignore the sound of his heavy breaths leaving you intoxicated. “I guess this is goodbye, Alonso.” 

You pat his cheeks softly with a small smile on your face, grabbing your purse and pushing him to the side leaving him frozen as he watches you walk past him, making your beeline to the gate and onto Lance’s car.

“Is everything okay?” Lance asks you as you enter the car.

You nod, not trusting your own words. “Yeah… things— they happen.”

Lance nods, dropping the conversation before driving you back home.

You’ll never catch yourself slipping, not again.

★ YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND — @namgification @nebarious @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @lxclerc @booksandflowrs @c-losur3 @lichterfee @moonyzsworld @e-nonsense @vicurious28 @dannyriccsupremacy @thearchieves @welovediaaxx @vogueprincess @mael1pastry @khaylin27 @whydowesleepeachnight @iridescent-sol

[kyleoreillylover]

Fashionably Late

Sami Zayn (platonic) x Fem!Black!Reader x Kevin Owens (platonic)

Summary: Torn between too many outfit choices, indecisive girlfriends and desperate to avoid any crazy fans discovering where you're staying, you call your best friends Sami and Kevin for a ride. The only problem? Your segment starts in 20 minutes, and includes both men, one of which (Kevin) now wants your head on a platter. Will you make it to the arena in time?

tagged: @southerngirl41@venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996@tbones450 @steakwithasideofmashngravy @selena-tyler-564@saintaquarius@whatdoeseverybodywant@raya-hunter01@hope4more

a/n: this is a total crack fic. I needed something to lighten up my life, and I hope this does the same for yours. Enjoy!

Time: 7:45 PM

Liv and Naomi’s voices rang through the room like alarms.

“No, the red dress!” Liv screamed, holding her phone up to her face, her expression as intense as if lives were at stake.

“But the silver set has that effect,” Naomi countered, looking equally convinced, throwing her hands up on screen. “You have a segment, you’ve got to kill it, girl!”

The pile of outfits on the bed was growing with every suggestion, clothes scattered around like some chaotic fashion explosion. The red dress, the silver set, heels that probably made a three-story building jealous — all of it a blur. It wasn’t even the outfits. It was the fact that neither Liv nor Naomi could pick a single option.

“They’re both stunning, you know you’ll look amazing,” Liv insisted.

“Ugh! I can’t— okay, last one. We need another outfit check,” Naomi added, still flipping through options with wild enthusiasm.

A glance at the clock on the bedside table stopped everything.

8:50 PM — Realization and Panic Mode

Silence.

SmackDown segment…9:30 PM. Location? An arena across town. You’re still at the hotel.

“OH MY GOD, IT’S ALMOST NINE!”

You let out a scream, cutting off Liv and Naomi, who are both shrieking with laughter and yelling at you to HURRY. The Facetime screen goes black as you hang up, frantically dialing Sami’s number, hoping to God he picks up.

8:50 PM 

Kevin Owens is done. Beyond done. He and Sami are in the locker room, scripts laid out, getting ready to run through the segment.

They both know it’s going to be fire — this whole “Honorary Uce” angle with Sami is gold, and they’re practically buzzing with ideas. But there’s one problem: you aren't here.

You're never late. The woman shows up early for everything. You're also an absolute perfectionist about your wardrobe. So naturally, Kevin’s mind starts running wild, thinking you had some disaster or something.

Sami sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Kev, maybe she’s just...stuck somewhere?”

And then, the phone rings. FaceTime.

Kevin picks it up, and there you are, hair done, makeup on, looking good — but very frazzled. Behind you, it’s pure chaos. Outfits are everywhere, like a tornado went through her hotel room.

“Oh my god, you guys, you guys! Help!”

Kevin felt a headache forming just from the sound of your panicked voice.

Okay, so you weren't in an emergency that required EMTs, but at this rate, Kevin was about ready to call someone for himself.

Sami’s face softened, but even he looked a bit on edge. “Wait...are you not on your way?” he asked, his voice calm but with a very real hint of panic.

“I—I was! I mean, I was about to leave, but then Liv and Naomi... and then they couldn’t decide, and I couldn’t decide, and now I don’t know what to wear!” you rambled, looking as close to the verge of tears as Kevin had ever seen.

Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “So you’re telling us...you’ve been ready, but just can’t decide what to wear?”

Sami tried to be encouraging. “Okay, breathe, it’s not the end of the world. Just pick something, alright?”

“But I can’t just pick! I need an opinion!” You said the last word with all the desperation in the world, staring at them both through the screen like they held the answer to all your problems.

Kevin glanced at Sami. “Here’s an opinion: Get. to. A. Car.”

“But Kevin—”

“Nope,” Kevin interrupted, sternly. “No more buts. You’re getting to the arena right now. Do you understand?”

You swallowed, nodding but still looking around at the tornado of options surrounding you.

"Fine. But—could you guys maybe come and get me? Because if I take an Uber, some crazy fan might see me and figure out the hotel…remember last time! And I can’t walk there, and—and—”

“Fine, fine! We’re on our way,” Kevin said, already grabbing his keys as he shoved the phone into his pocket, muttering the entire time. “This woman, I swear...”

Sami gave him a reassuring smile as they headed out the door. “Look, she’d do the same for us, right?”

Kevin shot him a look. “She’d think about it. And then get sidetracked picking out shoes.”

9:05 PM — Hotel Room Tornado

Kevin’s jaw drops when they finally arrive. You're spraying herself with perfume, the air so thick with it that it nearly chokes him. Your room looks like it exploded: dresses, shoes, accessories strewn everywhere.

“Uh… so… what happened here?” Sami asks gently, trying to mask his shock.

You whirled around, eyes wide, clutching a pair of heels. “I don’t know! It just… spiraled! And I still don’t know what to wear. Can one of you reach up there and hand me that other perfume bottle?”

Sami hesitantly reaches for the perfume. You snatched it, spraying yourself and the room like it’s some kind of ritual.

Kevin finally steps in, grabbing the perfume bottle from you. “Alright, that’s enough! You already smell like a department store!”

You paused, looking genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Kevin deadpans, barely hiding his amusement. “Now can we please pick something?”

Your eyes flicker between Kevin and Sami, desperate for some guidance. “Please, I’m begging. I need an opinion.”

“Listen,” Kevin said, voice stern, “here’s an opinion: we need to get out the door now. No more perfume. No more earrings. You look fine!”

“But which outfit?” you begged, eyes wide and pleading, grabbing at another rhinestone-covered top from your pile.

Kevin rolls his eyes. He had his “stern dad” face you usually saw him have with his kids. “Here’s another opinion: Get. To. The. Car. Now. So grab something, anything, because we’re not missing this segment. Or I'll drag u out like this...”

“Okay! Okay.” You frantically nodded, grabbing a bag of clothes in a rush. But you’re still panicking, hopping on one foot as you try to fasten your heels. “Wait, wait! Do I go with the red dress, or the black one with the rhinestones, or—”

You were still struggling to get your heels on, and they are so tall that, for a moment, you almost fall over, your hands flailing as you try to balance.

Kevin let out a long-suffering sigh, walked over, and, with remarkable gentleness, scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Kevin!” you yelped, laughing but still scrambling for your heels. "I have a skirt on!" 

“Too bad. You should have thought about that before making us late. Put those heels on in the car. We don’t have time for this, were going now!” Kevin ordered as he carried you down the hall, Sami grabbing the bags and following behind.

9:15 PM — En Route to the Arena

In the backseat, you’re still panicking, practically rummaging through one of your bags as you start asking questions they barely understand.

“Which highlighter should I go for? Does this lip color look too bold? Should I touch up my eyeshadow? Sami, I need an opinion — it’s got to look fierce but not, you know, too fierce.”

Sami, bless him, actually humors you. “Uh, I’d say… go for whatever makes you look the most… fierce but not too fierce?” He shrugs, glancing at Kevin, who just rolls his eyes.

Kevin finally snaps, “How about whatever lets us get out of this car on time?”

9:25 PM — Arena Locker Room They dragged you straight to their locker room, not giving you a chance to second-guess.

Kevin stood by the door, hands on his hips. “Alright, pick one. Now.”

You fumbled through the options, but everything seemed like it could work. “I just need your guys' opinion!” You begged, glancing between them.

Kevin gave you a look that was 50% done and 50% concerned.

He crossed his arms, sighing deeply. “My opinion is..."

You gave him a hopeful look that almost made him feel bad.

"...Is one that gets us out of here and into the parking lot now."

Your face dropped as Kevin continued. "Triple H will have our heads if we’re late, and then no more budget for your endless outfits.”

That actually seems to scare you into focus, and after a dramatic sigh, you look at Sami, eyes begging him to make the choice for you.

Sami, patience worn thin but still kind, grabs the first outfit he sees tossed onto the bench: a sleek black crop top with rhinestones and matching tight leather pants. “This one. It’s simple, it’s hot, and it doesn’t take a hundred hours to get into.”

You hesitate for a second, looking at it, then at him, like you’re about to argue. Kevin doesn’t even give you the chance.

“Bathroom. Change. Now.” His expression is pure dad-mode, like there’s zero room for debate. He even points at the door for extra emphasis.

You huff, grabbing the outfit, muttering something about “fashion police” as you dart into the bathroom. Kevin and Sami exchange a look, relief mixed with exasperation.

Finally, after what feels like forever (and more muffled muttering from you), you step out, fully dressed in the chosen outfit. Kevin gives you an approving nod, arms crossed. “There. Perfect. See how easy that was?”

"No." You pouted, going to get some perfume, but Kevin takes it from your hand once again, looking at you in disbelief. "No more perfume. You already smell like a whole store, now let's GO!"

You jumped at his tone, getting up and racing out the door. “Fine, dad.”

Sami gave Kevin a exasperated look before he followed you, mostly to steady you in your heels (you can barely ever run in them, so why you wore them Kevin will never understand)

Kevin watched you run both ahead, muttering to himself, “If she pulls this again, I’m going to…” He trailed off, clearly unable to hold back a fond smile despite the chaos.

9:29 PM — Parking Lot Set for the Segment

They make it just in time, practically skidding into the parking lot where their segment is set to go live. Kevin and you go stand next to the car as Sami goes near the wall, waiting for his cue to walk up to the two of you.

You're still catching your breath, adjusting your top, as Kevin gives you a long, unimpressed look.

“If you ever pull this again…”

You didn't pull a stunt like that again for another five months, which for Kevin, was something he was actually proud of you for.

[chaos-chloe]

The Great Gaming Fiasco

Summary: Grizzy rage, I think you already know this<3

TW: Established relationship, rage. anger, warzone moment, kissing, cursing and screaming, lmk if I missed anything

This fateful night started like any other, with the trio gathering their keyboards, their spirits high and laughter echoing through the room. “Ready to beat some noobs?” Grizzy hollered as he loaded up the game, the anticipation crackling in the air like static electricity. The familiar battle sounds filled the room, and they dove into the chaos.

“Why doesn’t that work?!” Smii7y bellowed, fierce frustration spilling from his lips like a dragon's fire, slumping dramatically in his chair as his avatar met an untimely demise. He banged his hand on the desk with a sound akin to thunder.

“Ello Grizzy!” Puffer sang with a comedic flair as Grizzy was unexpectedly reincarnated, flinging his parachute in a desperate bid to return to the sky. But alas, the parachute refused to open—like a deflated balloon. Grizzy’s frustration spiraled as he began to rain blows on his keyboard, resulting in a dramatic self-kill that could only be described as tragicomic.

“WHY WOULD YOU KILL YOURSELF?” Puffer cried out, the desperation lacing his voice as if they were in a high-stakes war council. “I COULD’VE REZZED YOU! WHY?!” 

With a dramatic flourish, the keys rained down like confetti, creating a chaotic storm of letters and symbols — a keyboard glitter bomb exploded across his desk! Each key had its own story, its own mission to fulfill in the kingdom of Warzone, and now they lay shattered in despair.

The keyboard chaos continued, keycaps flying around Grizzy’s desk like tiny meteors in a galactic explosion of rage. The comical scene escalated, with Smii7y unable to stifle his laughter. “I think I need a new keyboard,” Grizzy declared with a resigned sigh echoing through the room, a solemn testament to his fiery spirit, as if he had just climbed Mount Doom only to find it was a mere hill.

“He just lost all his keycaps.” Smii7y said with a smirk growing on his face, while Grizzy fumed, the air tinged with both laughter and despair. “Oh my god” Puffer moans in emotional pain in the background. “Bro it aint working today.” Smii7y responded to Puffer's distress. “Nothing’s working.” Smii7y joked about how each bug felt like a monster stalking them in the night, ready to pounce at any awakening moment.

“I’m kicking over the key caps, I’ll clean that mess later.” Grizzy growled, “It's a problem for another day.

 “What do you mean mess?’ Puffer aspirated at Grizzy

“Wait, can you even use your keyboard? Did you go get a new one?” Puffer asked for content

“I got a new one- well i stole __’s” Grizzy responded “Ugh-let me straighten my desk” Puffer laughed at Grizzy’s misery. 

“Yeaahh” “What the fuck happend?” “What happened to you?” Smii7y and Puffer asked.

“The situation where you're gonna pull your parachute and it says “NO”” Grizzy explained as annoyance seeped through his voice. “Yeah! That literally just happened to me as well.” Smii7y agrees with Grizzy’s annoyance at the game with their bugs. They exchanged stories of their own gaming disasters, an unwritten pact of camaraderie knitting them closer amidst the chaos.

“Yeah so then I decided to slam my keyboard, which killed me, which made me even more angry. So I just clapped my keyboard together, ‘til everything came off.” Grizzy tells the replay of what just happened.

“Were you doing a last second one?” Smii7y asked. “Uhh-no i pressed it like 3 times before landing, it just didn't pull.” Grizzy answered with a slight tone. 

“Like right now.” Grizzy placed ___’s keyboard down with some force, as he was clenching and unclenching his fist, storming off, as the trio couldn't help but spiral into a cyclone of banter, laughing yet again at Grizzy’s misfortune. Grizzy stormed off out of frame towards his right office door which was left open. 

In the midst of the laughter, the mood shifted. A loud crash resonated from Grizzy’s office, while I was in the kitchen. Quickly followed by a blood-curdling scream that sent shivers down their spines. 

“FUCK!!!”  Grizzy’s roar thundered through the house, slicing through the laughter like a lightning bolt, a haunting call of despair that made everyone freeze. After that there was an eerie unusual stillness lurking in the house. 

My skin jumped as his scream blared to life, roaring like a thousand ghosts at once, sending ice down my spine. I gasped in shock, my eyes popped open like saucers, my adrenaline rushing through my veins. In a flurry, I leapt out of my statue like a state.

With curiosity piqued, I tiptoed towards the scene, every step echoing with anticipation. Approaching cautiously, I soon found myself colliding with Grizzy, his frustration evident and his door hanging askew like a battle-worn shield, leaning on the doorframe. “Let me guess... warzone moment?” I quipped with a smirk, but concern laced my words like a thick fog that hung in the air.

“Yeah, I didn't know how else to take my rage out of my body, since I already broke my keyboard. I was most certainly not breaking your keyboard, yes I stole it after I broke mine. I knew how much time and money you spent on that keyboard.” Grizzy explained while I was giving him the “mom” look. As we stood there, I couldn’t help but chuckle. The chaos of gaming had turned into a comedic rendezvous, where gaming mishaps became fodder for laughter and camaraderie.

 “Well I appreciate  you not breaking mine, but now I have to fix your office door babe.” I say walking out his arms towards the closet of tools/storage that they have. 

As I set to fixing his door, the banter resumed. “Is it possible to rage hard enough to break a door?” I teased while wielding my tools. Grizzy sheepishly scratched his head, his triumph of rage slowly fading into recollection of the bond we all had. 

I heard Grizzy walk back into his office, as my hands were full of tools and glue so I could repair the holes in the wall. “I’m done, shut the fuck up. SHUT THE FUCK UP! I’m done, I’m done.” Grizzy repeated. “I just broke my door with my hands, now ___ is fixing it. I’m FUCKING DONE.” He screams in anger and slaps his hand on his desk.

“Sorry, baby, I'm not mad at you.” Grizzy apologized to me, as I was trying to make myself as small as possible. I was putting toothpicks and wood glue together in the holes, where the screws used to be. Grizzy ended the stream right after he apologized to me. 

“You’re fine babe, is there anyway you can get the sandpaper that i left on the counter. Also maybe the wirecutter in the tool box?” I asked him a favor, I felt my phone buzz in my butt pocket.

Hey ___ you okay? Grizzy okay? -Puffer

Yes we are both okay, he is calming down now as we are both putting the door back together. Try to tell, chat that too. You know how shit can spiral out of control. 

Will do, and okay we were just making sure

Its all good! I’m probably gonna make him, go get us food in a min

(read)

Moments passed as I tuckered away at the door, awaiting Grizzy’s emotional cooldown. “After all this fixing, how about a nice dinner?” I suggested with a smile, already picturing a delightful feast to reward ourselves after the wild night.

“C’mon babe, let's get your fine ass off the dirty floor and go find a nice restaurant.” Grizzy nodded enthusiastically, offering his hand to help me up, grinning ear-to-ear. As I stood up with his help, I gave him a kiss on the lips and started tugging him to the door, laughing together. 

[physalian]

Creating Tragedy Through Human Error

One of my favorite sci-fi movies is Sunshine (07). In it, a team of highly skilled scientists is sent on a mission to our dying sun to essentially nuke the core to restart nuclear fusion and keep the star alive. They are aboard the Icarus II, the second attempt by a slowly-freezing Earth to attempt this hail mary, after Icarus I was lost. When the team stumbles upon the Icarus I’s distress signal, they have to make a choice: Detour to potentially save survivors and get double the payload (a second chance if they miss or it fails), or waste more time that Earth doesn’t really have straying from their mission.

They decide to detour, reward worth the risk, and when the ship changes trajectory, part of it becomes exposed to the intense heat of the sun outside the ship’s solar shield, and catches fire, burning up their only way to refresh their oxygen. Now, they have no choice to find Icarus I both for the payload and any chance of making it home, and chaos ensues for the rest of the movie.

The whole inciting incident for this chaos isn’t detecting the Icarus I’s signal, it’s the failure on part of the flight engineer to properly account for shifting their solar shield when they change course. It’s a simple, yet catastrophic human error, and he takes it incredibly hard—if the mission fails and they all asphyxiate before the payload can deliver, he will have killed Earth’s last chance for survival. All because he did some math wrong.

—

There’s something brutally tragic about a disaster that comes not from without, but within. Sunshine would have had the exact same stakes if the solar shield had simply malfunctioned and it was fate or the power of god that had killed them. Based on the name for their ship—Icarus—one can assume that human error, human overconfidence, flew them too close to the sun.

Sometimes shit just breaks. Sometimes the tech doesn’t work. Sometimes the bullet misses in a freak gust of wind. It’s a random fender bender on the highway. Not saying these plots are wrong at all, and having a character feeling like fate and the universe are against them is a compelling enough premise on its own.

But some of my favorite tragedies are tragedies because it all could have been avoided if one character made a different choice. One of my favorite TV shows has a climax where everything they’ve been working for, everything they’ve fought for all boils down to successfully inputting a code into a thing for a Sunshine-esque world revival. They’re winning the race, gaining ground, they’re at the console, the villains have lost. Meanwhile, the lone team member back home coordinating everything chooses to ignore a phone call from their allies because he’s busy and thinks they’re far less important. The villains then take these allies captive and hold them hostage—hand over the code or the innocent bystanders die right before their eyes—and the heroes balk, the consequences of which are devastating.

Had this one character stopped, thought, and not dismissed their allies’ call for help, none of this would have happened. Sure the villains could have shown up out of nowhere with them with zero buildup and just said “we caught them offscreen, uh, doesn’t matter how” and the choice would have been as agonizing to watch, but knowing it all happened because one character couldn’t be bothered makes it so much worse.

—

Some things to consider about doing this:

Try to avoid deus and diablos ex machinas. The latter tends to receive less backlash, because shit going wrong for no reason is less story-ruining than shit going right for no reason, but you can do better

This is high above a character simply forgetting about a macguffin or forgetting important information or something conveniently breaking or failing to turn on at the last second for no reason other than to be dramatic, this is something that the audience might not see coming before it happens, but understands immediately once the damage is done.

If you’re going to make it a fault of a character, make sure it’s a fault that character already has, a choice they would realistically make, instead of randomly making them an idiot to further the plot

Up to you whether you want the characters to realize the human error in all this. In Sunshine, that was the whole point, in the tv episode, I don’t think they ever connected the dots, but we did as the audience.

Typically, these are tragedies, and the choice that was made is irreversible. The character who makes it either dies regretting everything, or has to live regretting everything, but there is no quick fix. It’s not a quick “oops let me correct that,” it’s devastating.

Hope this helps, now get writing!

[sharlmbracta]

Hello dears! I am asking you to support my campaign to help me reach my goal. I am in dire need of your support now to help me stay alive and safe. Gaza is a very dangerous place both in terms of living and lives. The family consists of 20 members, most of them are young children. I need your financial support to enable me to get the basic needs for my family until the Rafah crossing is reopened to transport my family to safety and peace. Please help a family stay alive through your small donations or through your shares to others. Thank you very much for standing by those in need. My campaign 90-ghoset has been documented

Fundraiser name: Ahmed Halas (searching this name instead of the blog name worked for me i think)

Link to verified post & details information post (@ 90-ghost)

Link to fundraiser blog (@ ahmeadhilles)

Ahmed's message: Hello, I am Ahmed from the Gaza Strip, I am still alive after ten months of war. This is my fifth war too. But this war is unlike any other. I am trying to raise money for me and my family, as we are determined to leave to safety while this disaster continues. We want to leave the Gaza Strip towards Egypt through the Rafah crossing and Hala Company. This was a very difficult decision for me, but this is my fate and the fate of my family. I feel ashamed to ask you to donate enough to save me and my family of 20, most of whom are young children, by raising enough money to reach safety. "Hala Company details are at the bottom of the article." Please participate, even if it is a small part. Donate any small amount, share my photos, share your story, anything that makes a difference. I have complete hope in you and your generosity. Father Fathi suffers from heart disease, diabetes and high blood pressure, and son Mahmoud suffers from back and cartilage pain, which is why he does not have a medical mattress due to sleeping on the floor, which makes him feel severe pain. Oh my God, what happened to us, I lost my memories and dreams that I have dreamed of for a long time, my house where I lived my childhood, nothing remained inside it, it was a pile of fire, and I lost my source of livelihood and my baby clothes store was completely destroyed, which led to the accumulation of debts that I was committed to from merchants that I obtained a few days before the current wave of war. Note: Ahmed will try, when the circumstances are complete and I collect a sufficient amount and I am able to reunite the entire family here in Gaza, by moving my family to a safe place and regaining some comfort or trying to go to Egypt, knowing that the cost per person now is $ 5,000 for an adult and $ 2,500 for a child. The price may fluctuate. Please help us by donating even the simplest things or by participating in our campaign, and I will be grateful to you