#can you believe I'm doing this for a fanfic??

[miya-cs]

A little courage and good communication.

Reader x Max Verstappen

In which the reader always blames himself for any uncomfortable situation, but is learning to deal with it.

Warnings: none very serious. The reader thinks too much, is a little anxious and pessimistic, but everything works out in the end.

(Yeah, I'm dealing with my traumas through fanfics, my psychologist will never know)

Traduzido do português pelo Google tradutor (tentei revisar, mas, ei, sempre dá alguma coisa errada, desculpe)

***

Tension fills the Redbull motorhome. Your hands are clenched as you keep your eyes steady, watching the Team employees from one side to the other.

Max has barely spoken to you today. From the morning when he woke up early and came to the garage alone, to the fact that he didn't even come to see you after you arrived.

You see, it's not that you depend on his attention, but… Your anxious mind starts to remember every action you've taken in the last few days, trying to find something in which you could have hurt your boyfriend.

Was it because you didn't wait for him for dinner? But Max himself said you could have dinner because he would be late. Was it because you didn't do anything after he had bad times in free practice? When Max arrived, upset about the race, you didn't even know why, but, as always, he always said everything was fine.

You believed him and left him alone in the room, because you knew he liked that so he could reflect on what he could or couldn't improve in the race. But… he was fine, wasn’t he?

You keep watching. Maybe you could get him a drink? Or maybe just go talk to him and wish him luck in the race? What to do?

You feel your eyes watering, and it irritates you. You’ve always been very sensitive and, due to some situations in the past, you’ve learned to hate that side of you.

Why cry over something so silly? Just because your boyfriend hasn’t paid you any attention all day? What an idiot.

You remember Christian’s words, after Max introduced you to the Team after a few months of dating in private.

“Do you really think she” – his gaze took in yours completely, a little cowering next to Max – “will be able to handle all this? Formula 1 isn’t just a sport, Max, you know that”.

Max vehemently defended you, and so you were made official on Redbull and Max’s Instagram. But, after more than a year together, you wonder if, perhaps, Horner was right.

You take a deep breath, remembering your psychologist's words: the best way to stop thinking too much is to get things straight. Talk. Ask questions. Face it. You're not psychic and not everything you think is correct.

Right.

Your eyes scan the garage again, finding Max on the other side, analyzing some screens with graphs. The grading will start soon and then you'll only be able to talk to him later.

You wonder if it's better to resolve things first. What if something happens and he's still upset? What if he's just waiting for an apology from you?

Finally, you decide to go to Max. Your steps are hesitant, and they get even worse when one of the mechanics points at you, Max's eyes quickly finding you.

He frowns as you approach, noticing your hesitation.

"Is everything okay?"

"Can we talk?" You say, and Max nods, his features serious. You follow him to the corner of the room, away from the noise of the garage and the employees.

“Um, I… I wanted to know if I did something to upset you?” You get straight to the point, knowing Max prefers things that way. “It’s just that you didn’t talk to me right today, and you were acting weird, and I wondered if I did something wrong? If I did, I’m sorry. You know I can be inattentive sometimes and…”

“Schatje,” Max interrupts you. His hands come up to your face, resting on your cheeks as he lifts your gaze to his. “Why the hell would you think you did something wrong? The car has been a mess since the last race last week and I’m trying to improve my time before the race tomorrow. That’s all.”

“Oh…” You blink, his words melting over your mind and washing away all your worries. “So it’s not me?”

Max rolls his eyes, before placing a quick kiss on your lips.

“No, Schatje,” he murmurs, and your shoulders slump as a sigh of relief leaves your lips.

“That’s great,” you smile, and Max can’t resist kissing you once more. “Get back to work then, Maxie. Good luck. I’m sure you’ll still be able to get the best out of your car in qualifying today and in the race tomorrow.”

Your words make him smile. “Have dinner together later?” your boyfriend asks.

“Room service. I don’t want to go out anymore today.” You answer and he just nods, before saying goodbye.

You keep smiling as he walks back to the mechanics. Your therapist would be so proud.

But before her, you were so proud of yourself for having the courage to solve things by talking instead of allowing your mind to create all the worst possible scenarios and suffering for something that only existed there, in your head.

Sometimes, to solve things, all it takes is a little courage and good communication.

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Hii, I often read your stories and I really like them. I was wondering if you could do a shy and very feminine female reader doing it for the first time with an experienced G!P Momo please

Listen to Unnie

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Momo x Member!Bttm!Reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: This is one of two fanfics I'm posting today. I won't be taking any more requests until I finish the ones I already have in my drafts, which are currently collecting dust. You can still make requests, but please keep in mind that they probably won't be written and posted for a while.

Also, can you believe it’s been a whole year since my first fic? I just wanted to give a huge thank you to all of you for supporting me and my writing. It means the world to me!

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

The practice room was filled with the faint scent of sweat and the lingering aroma of freshly applied makeup, the air thick with the anticipation of their upcoming comeback. Y/n, dressed in a baby pink hoodie and matching shorts, nervously fidgeted with her fingers. She looked up at Momo, who was casually leaning against the wall with one hand in her pocket and the other playing with the hem of her black tank top.

Momo's eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in the flustered state of the youngest member. She sauntered over to the couch and plopped down."Come on, Y/n, let's go over that part of the choreography again," she said with a grin, Y/n's cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.

Y/n got back into position, her heart racing. She couldn't shake the feeling that Momo had something more than practice on her mind, but she brushed it off as nerves. She started to run through the routine, her movements tentative and unsure. Momo watched intently, her gaze flickering between Y/n's face and her ass, which was bouncing slightly with each step. As the beat dropped, Y/n froze. She had messed up the sequence again, and she could feel Momo's eyes burning into her.

Momo stepped closer, her body heat enveloping Y/n. "You're too stiff," she murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's ear. "You need to relax and feel the music." Before Y/n could react, Momo's hand was on her hip, guiding her through the steps, their bodies moving in sync. The friction between them grew, the air crackling with an undeniable tension that neither of them could ignore.

The older idol leaned in, her soft pink lips brushing against Y/n's, surprising the youngest member. Y/n's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she melted into the kiss, her inexperience shimmering like a new star in the vast sky of Momo's expertise. Momo's hand traveled up to the back of Y/n's neck, pulling her closer as their tongues danced together, exploring each other with a gentle yet insistent curiosity.

Breaking the kiss, Momo's eyes searched Y/n's, looking for any signs of discomfort. Finding none, she smiled, her teeth slightly grazing the younger girl's bottom lip. "You're so sweet," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr.

Y/n's heart thudded in her chest as she felt Momo's hand slip under her hoodie, her fingers tracing the soft skin of her stomach before moving to untie the drawstring of her shorts. With surprising deftness, Momo pulled them down, leaving Y/n's cute little panties as the only barrier between her and the cool air of the practice room. Y/n gasped as Momo's hand cupped her, feeling her warmth and the dampness that had pooled there.

Momo's eyes never left hers as she leaned in to nip at her bottom lip, a playful smirk on her face. "You're so wet, baby," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Does the thought of me making you feel good turn you on?"

Y/n nodded, her voice a barely audible whisper. She was lost in the moment, unsure of how they had gone from rehearsing to this, but she didn't want it to stop. She could feel the heat of Momo's body, her breath, her touch. It was intoxicating.

Momo's hand slipped into the waistband of Y/n's panties, her long, slender fingers sliding down to stroke the wetness that had gathered between her folds. Y/n's breath hitched, and she felt her knees wobble slightly. Momo chuckled, the sound low and warm, before her thumb found its way to Y/n's clit. She began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, her eyes never leaving the younger girl's face as she watched for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

Momo led Y/n over to the couch, their bodies still entwined. She sat down, gently pushing Y/n's knees apart and settling herself between them. With a smoldering gaze, she leaned in to kiss her again, their tongues tangling together as she continued to tease her clit. Y/n's breaths grew ragged, and she could feel herself getting closer to the edge.

"Momo, I've never… done this before," Y/n stuttered, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.

Momo paused, her hand hovering over Y/n's trembling thigh. "It's okay, Jagiya," she assured her, her voice velvety and soothing. "I'll take care of you. Just listen to Unnie." She gently eased the fabric of Y/n's panties aside, revealing the soft pinkness beneath. Y/n's eyes fluttered shut as Momo's mouth descended upon her, kissing and licking a trail down her stomach.

Momo's tongue flicked over Y/n's clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. Y/n gasped, her hands reflexively reaching for Momo's hair. She was unsure of what to do, but the feeling was so overwhelmingly good that she didn't care. Momo's mouth closed over her, suckling gently at first before increasing the pressure. Y/n's hips bucked, and she let out a soft moan, her body responding instinctively to the older girl's ministrations.

Momo looked up, her eyes dark with desire, and whispered, "You're doing so well, just keep letting go." She inserted a single finger into Y/n's tight pussy, the wetness allowing for easy entry. The youngest member's eyes widened, but she didn't protest. Instead, she began to rock her hips in time with Momo's movements, the sensation of being filled both thrilling and terrifying.

Momo's eyes locked onto Y/n's, her gaze intense and unwavering. "Tell me if it feels good," she encouraged, her voice thick with want.

Y/n nodded, her eyes glazed over with pleasure as Momo's tongue swirled around her clit. Each flick and suck sent waves of sensation crashing through her, and she couldn't hold back the soft, feminine whimpers that escaped her lips. The feeling was so new, so overwhelmingly good that she didn't know how much more she could take.

Momo's eyes grew darker with every sound Y/n made, her own arousal evident as she worked her finger in and out of the younger girl's tight pussy. She curled it slightly, finding that special spot inside her, and Y/n's body responded with a shudder. "There it is," Momo murmured, her voice full of satisfaction. She knew she had found Y/n's G-spot.

Y/n's breathing grew more erratic as Momo's finger danced inside her, the pleasure building into a crescendo. Her body tensed, and she felt the beginnings of an orgasm wash over her. She was about to ask Momo to stop, but the words got caught in her throat as Momo added a second finger, stretching her even further.

"M-Momo," she managed to stutter out, trying to push her head away, but her legs only tightened around Momo's neck, drawing her closer.

Momo chuckled against her sensitive flesh, the vibration sending another shockwave through her body. "You don't have to hold back, baby," she encouraged, her voice muffled by the fabric of Y/n's panties. "I want to hear you."

With a final, desperate attempt to maintain her dignity, Y/n buried her face in the cushions of the couch, muffling her cries. But it was no use; the pleasure was too much. Her body spasmed, and she squirted into Momo's eager mouth, soaking her. Momo groaned in pleasure, the taste of Y/n's arousal driving her wild. She didn't stop, licking and sucking until the youngest member's legs were trembling and she was whimpering for mercy.

Pulling away, Momo's eyes were alight with passion as she surveyed her handiwork. Y/n's pussy was red and swollen, glistening with a mix of sweat and desire. The young idol looked up at her, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving. Momo smirked, standing up to reveal the tent in her own shorts. "Looks like you liked it," she said, her voice playful.

Y/n couldn't help but nod, her eyes never leaving Momo's face. "What's next?" she asked, her voice shaky with anticipation.

Momo leaned back, a smug smile playing on her lips as she assessed the situation. "Well, we can't have you lying there like that and not do anything about it," she said, her eyes darkening with desire. She reached down and adjusted the bulge in her shorts, making it clear what was next.

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement and fear at the same time. She had never seen Momo like this before, so confident and commanding. It was a stark contrast to the sweet, supportive unnie she knew from their group activities, but it was incredibly alluring. She watched as Momo unbuttoned her shorts, her eyes never leaving Y/n's.

Momo's cock was revealed, and Y/n's eyes widened at the sight of it. It was a beautiful shade of pink, glistening with lubricant and standing tall. The older member stepped closer, her hand caressing the shaft gently. "Ready for the main act?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of challenge.

Y/n nodded, her curiosity piqued. She had never seen anything like it before, but she trusted Momo implicitly. The Japanese idol positioned herself over Y/n, her cock pointing at the juncture of her thighs. "Just relax," Momo murmured, her hand sliding up to cradle Y/n's face. "I'll go slow."

With that, she began to press her cock against Y/n's opening, the tip sliding through her folds and coating it in her arousal. Y/n gasped, the sensation foreign yet exhilarating. She felt the head of Momo's cock nudge at her entrance, and she tensed up instinctively. "It's okay," Momo whispered, her thumb tracing soothing circles on Y/n's cheek. "You're so tight, baby."

Momo pushed in gently, inch by inch, her cock stretching Y/n's tightness. Y/n's eyes squeezed shut, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. It hurt, but it was a pain that seemed to meld with the pleasure, creating a cocktail of sensations that was intoxicating. "Relax," Momo murmured, her free hand resting on Y/n's hip, her fingers digging into the soft flesh as she began to rock her hips.

Slowly, so slowly, the pain gave way to a delicious fullness. Y/n's body started to adjust, her muscles wrapping around Momo's cock like a warm, wet embrace. She felt a sense of awe, of being filled in a way she had never been before. Momo's movements grew more deliberate, her eyes never leaving Y/n's face as she watched for any signs of distress or discomfort. But all she saw was the youngest member's trust and willingness to experience something new.

The room was a symphony of soft gasps and muffled moans as Momo began to pick up the pace, her hips moving in a steady rhythm. Y/n's leg remained draped over Momo's shoulder, granting her deeper access, while her other hand held onto the armrest of the couch tightly, knuckles white with the effort of staying still. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through her body, and she couldn't help but whimper with every penetration.

Momo leaned down to capture Y/n's lips again, her own breathing ragged. Their kisses grew more urgent as the pace of their lovemaking increased. Y/n's hands roamed up Momo's back, feeling the slickness of sweat and the firmness of muscle beneath her fingertips. The older member's cock filled her completely, stretching her in the most delicious way possible, and she found herself matching Momo's movements, her hips rising to meet each powerful thrust.

Momo's hand traveled back down to Y/n's clit, her thumb resuming the relentless circles that had brought her to the brink before. Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head, and she moaned into their kiss, the sensation of being touched there while filled so completely overwhelming. She felt a second orgasm building, stronger than the first, and she clung to Momo, her nails digging into her back as she whispered, "D-on't ssstop."

Momo's rhythm grew erratic as she felt Y/n's pussy clench around her cock, the younger girl's body shaking with the force of her climax. She groaned, the vibrations sending a shiver down her spine as she continued to pump into her, eager to reach her own peak. "You're so good," she murmured, her voice strained with passion. "So, so good."

Their kisses grew sloppier, their breaths mingling in a desperate dance. Y/n's eyes searched Momo's, a silent question hanging between them. Momo read the unspoken words, the need for reassurance, and whispered, "It's okay, Jagiya. I've got you."

With that, she pushed into Y/n one final time, burying her cock as deep as it would go. Y/n felt the warmth of Momo's release flood her, the sensation sending her own body over the edge once more. She screamed into the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut, as waves of pleasure washed over her. Momo's thrusts grew shallower, her breathing ragged as she rode out her orgasm, her fingers still working Y/n's clit with an expert touch.

They lay there for a moment, their bodies entwined and trembling with the aftershocks of their shared climax. The room was silent except for the sound of their labored breaths and the distant thump of music from the neighboring practice room. Momo pulled out slowly, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she did so. She leaned down to press a soft kiss to Y/n's forehead, her hand still resting between her legs, feeling the last of her spasms subside.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her that was different from the passion that had just consumed her. She was surprised to find that she felt safe, protected even. She looked up at Momo, her eyes filled with a mix of awe and love. "That was…" she trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the intensity of the experience.

Momo chuckled, a warm sound that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. She leaned in to kiss her again, this time more tenderly. "It's just the beginning, baby," she whispered against her lips. "But for now, let's clean up and get you dressed."

[cushfuddled]

what are your thoughts on the "Arcane Viktor was meant to be ace" that has been said in an interview? Like yes - word of god feel free to ignore - but they said they tried to write him that way. Do you think they succeeded?

Hiya! Thanks for the ask! :D

I was honestly shocked to hear Linke "always" meant to depict Viktor as asexual. It strikes me as a deeply disingenuous comment, not least of all because I want to believe someone who "always thought of Viktor as asexual" and was driven by a desire to make ace people happy would...I dunno...display a slightly better grasp of what "asexuality" even means.

LINKE: I know there are some people who ask this. There is a love. I don't think it's romantic…I remember many, many years ago also thinking about this when we started developing these characters. To me, I can say something here now that would be good for you and bad for me because it will be a wildfire. To me, Viktor was always asexual, and that was always something we talked about from the very beginning. So, a romantic relationship between Jayce and Viktor was just never part of it. There is a love, absolutely, but we also found it a bit... Love and relationships are so complex and take so many different forms. Viktor loves in a different way, and that's okay, no? ...It's something that when we talk to our LGBTQ group within Riot, I remember asking the group many, many years ago, like, "What is something that you never see depicted very well?" And someone said asexuality. They say it's often depicted as, like, emotionless when it's not true at all. It's just that your feelings don't mix with physical. So, to me, that was always part of Viktor. [x]

I didn't feel seen at all by this kind of retroactive ace rep, but I did feel truly, deeply moved by the fandom's response.

Because I know this song and dance. A showrunner or someone with similar "creative authority" describes a character as ace or aro, and the fancops take out their soap boxes and declare,

"All right, everybody! You heard the man! No more sexy fanfic and fan art! This ace/aro character is officially off limits!"

And then aro and ace people like me, who ENJOY smutty fanfic and fan art and want to see our favorite Barbie dolls kiss, are viciously harassed for our hubris. For at least a year I watched my favorite TMA fan artist get dogpiled to hell for daring to draw NSFW art ofJonathan Sims. And yes, this artist was also ace! To fancops, the opinions of aces and aros who like to consume or create smut don't count. We're all "degen" traitors who deserve to be bullied out of fan spaces for the sake of The Good Ones.

So anyway! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Christian Linke came out of the hole in my wall and told me Viktor and Jayce aren't gay.

“Was there ever a ship?” LINKE: “It’s strange that people say that’s the only close relationship that two men could have is to be a couple, you know? There’s really close friendships and like, brotherhoods if you will…like, really being there for each other. Um. [That] is something that was…really important for us to explore. So…it seems like there’s no other version, you know? For some fans, they say like, ‘Hey, there must be romance,’ and we’re like…these relationships can be really layered and really complex, you know? I think there is some kind of…there is a love between them. I just don’t think it’s romantic, you know?” [x]

(If I have to hear one more creator clap back at a hopeful "could they be gay?" with a bizarrely defensive spiel about the transcendent magic of platonic bonds and how men aren't allowed to foster close platonic relationships I'm gonna hemorrhage something, but that rant already lives over here so whatever)

First of all...

:3c

...For someone so committed to propping up the ace and aro community with canon rep, this November 28 2024 version of Christian Linke sure doesn't mention asexuality or aromanticism at all. The genergous ellipses from the excerpt above aren't a creative embellishment on my part. Those pauses are very much apparent on the Twitch stream. Linke appears to really dig for the right words here, yet the terms "asexual" or "aromantic" evade capture. But sure, asexuality was "always" a part of Viktor for Linke.

Maybe Linke didn't want to draw fire from fans with a "Dumbledore is gay" moment, so he left any definitive terminology off the table. In any case, I watched the Jayvik community respond to Linke's Twitch stream like so:

This was, to put it mildly, fucking hysterical. I've never seen a community so decisively "...anyway" a showrunner over queer rep before.

This is horribly unfair for me to assume, given I know next to nothing about Linke and his capacity for petty vengeance. His timing could be totally coincidental, his efforts completely genuine. But the fact that Linke dropped this ace Viktor bomb less than two weeks after his Twitch stream smells like a tantrum to me. In my least charitable vision, I see a man who declared Jayvik platonic by order of Authorial Intent, watched his fandom go, "That's nice grandpa. So about that Hextech sex toy fic—", and was so offended by shippers' casual disregard as to "strike back" with something they couldn't possibly ignore. Thus the "Viktor was ace the whole time" card, when

The word you're looking for is "aromantic," Linke. That's the one to do with romantic attraction.

I know it can be difficult to canonize asexuality and aromanticism. If someone tried to kiss Viktor and Viktor pulled back like, "I don't feel things that way"...would that reaction be enough to make Viktor canonically aro? Perhaps Viktor would need to clarify: "I don't feel things that way." "Which way?" "The...romantic way.” “I don't understand." "You are my partner, Jayce. I love you. I want to be with you. But I will never want to kiss you." I’m tempted to champion that second option, but I can see the argument for less stringent criteria. Ambiguity is...organic, I guess. Too much clarification can read as disingenuous and preachy, like one of those after school specials. Still: I've spent too many years dancing for table scraps to ascribe sanctity to headcanons.

At the end of the day I just don't buy Viktor as ace/aro per Linke and Lee's creative vision. Sky felt like such a classic case of "straight key jangling" to me—i.e. a one-dimensional female character who exists to reinforce a male character's straightness. (My favorite example of this phenomenon = the time Cas Supernatural became mortal ((and thus capable of sexual attraction)), met a woman, slept with her, then killed her within the span of a single episode. Why showrunners seem to believe a female love interest invalidates queer readings, I cannot begin to guess). Even as Viktor pulled his hands away from Sky's—even as Sky told him, “No you won't"—I couldn't help but feel like Linke and Lee had a bullhorn to my ear the whole show: "Oh no, these poor lost ships in the night! How tragic, that Sky was so ready to love Viktor with all his faults and cracks, and Viktor could've found love and purpose outside his work had he only stopped long enough to notice! How tragic, that Viktor only came to understand the nature of Sky's feelings for him after his work had stolen her away! How tragic, that the thing Viktor so desperately craved was right there the whole time, from the moment he launched that toy boat to the night he activated the Hexcore!" It felt like Sky was meant to represent potential, a la the limitless expanse of the heavens. In such a complex cast, Sky stands out like a sore (cardboard) thumb. When Viktor lost Sky to his ambition, she was forever frozen as a "what could have been," reduced to a symbol of roads untraveled. With all those Vibes in the air, I'm like...uh...Linke? Tell me again about how you wanted me to read Viktor as aro this whole time???

I'm sure some ace and aro folks were bolstered by this situation, and lord knows I don't want to yuck on anybody's yums. But for me personally, Linke's comments were like a punch to the throat. It felt like Linke wanted to use me as a police baton to beat back the hordes of evil shippers. What meant the world to me was, once again, the fandom's response. NO ONE TOOK THE BAIT. At least here on Tumblr, all I saw were ace, aro, and allo fans A. clarifying ace and aro terminology, and B. creating smut out of spite.

I cannot stress how fucking INSANE this was to witness as someone who's dealt with a lot of shame re: my aegosexuality. I've never felt so seen and supported as an ace person by a fandom community. Every Jayvik fic with a "this one's for you, Linke"-esque note adds another five years onto my life. I seriously love you all. Please keep being your glorious selves.

[legendary-69420]

☆o( "He Should Slow Down 🥺" — The F1 Driver Group Chat Chronicles )o☆ Genre: Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Lighthearted F1 Fanfic Warnings: none I guess

a/n : This is part 6 of the series (You can also read it without reading any previous part). This is not the part of my story racing hearts but is another AU for my character. Hope you enjoy it. _________________________________________________ (for context Mark has starred in a short film where he has played the part of a menacing psycho killer)

🏎️ Group Chat Name: "I Can't Lose Him 😭😭😭" 🏎️

[10:00 AM]

Lando: OKAY. I’M SAYING IT. THIS IS UNFAIR. Yuki: Nah bc HOW did he do that. Carlos: This man is a menace. Max: “This man has unreal power.” Oscar: I’m watching it again. Lando: SAME. Carlos: SAME. Yuki: 6th rewatch, let’s go. Max: I can’t believe that’s MARK. OUR MARK. Lando: OUR????? Yuki: YOUR?????? Max: I MEANT THAT AS A GROUP THING. Carlos: He’s not YOURS, bro.

[10:10 AM]

Oscar: But nah, let's be real. Oscar: That solo shot of him… Carlos: OH WE SAW. Yuki: 👀 Lando: 🔥🔥🔥 Max: I HAD TO PAUSE. Carlos: THE HAIR FLIP. THE MENACING CHUCKLE. THE LOOK IN HIS EYES. Oscar: Why did he lowkey look like he enjoyed being unhinged. Max: Not “lowkey.” He 100% enjoyed it. Yuki: That shirtless scene?? Nah, that scene changed me. Oscar: The world has been permanently altered. Carlos: THIS MAN TURNED GAY WOMEN STRAIGHT AND STRAIGHT MEN GAY. Max: 📢📢📢 Lando: I just know my For You Page is COOKED for the next 3 months. Yuki: Thirst edits incoming. I can feel it.

[10:15 AM]

Lando: MARK. Mark: What. Yuki: EXPLAIN. Carlos: NAH. DROP THE EXPLANATION RN. Max: HOW DARE YOU. Oscar: HOW LONG DID YOU KEEP THIS A SECRET?? Mark: Y’all acting weird again 💀 Lando: OH WE’RE THE WEIRD ONES??? Yuki: YOU'RE A PSYCHO IN THE FILM AND IN REAL LIFE. Max: THE HAIR FLIP, MARK. THE. HAIR. FLIP. Mark: 😂😂😂 Carlos: I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING IN HD CAUSE WE ARE NOT. Yuki: Liar. I’m watching it again.

[10:20 AM]

Charles: … Lando: oh. Carlos: OH. Yuki: he’s here. Max: Look who finally decided to join us. Oscar: What’s up, Charles. Carlos: Charles, did you watch it? Charles: ... Charles: No. Lando: LMAO. LIE AGAIN. Max: BRO’S IN HERE QUIETLY STARING AT HIS SCREEN. Oscar: I bet he’s on the spicy scene rn. Lando: THE SPICY SCENE. I KNOW IT. Carlos: Charles, you need help. Charles: I'M NOT WATCHING IT. Yuki: I CAN HEAR THE SCENE PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND. Mark: Charles, you good? Charles: SHUT UP. Mark: ?? Lando: Bro is FUMING 💀💀💀 Oscar: Man is REWATCHING IT RN AND WE KNOW IT.

[10:30 AM]

Max: “Mark you trying to steal my girl?” Carlos: “Mark you trying to steal MY man?” Yuki: Mark, you trying to steal EVERYONE?? Oscar: Stealing hearts like it’s a hobby. Lando: Nah, Mark woke up and chose violence. Charles: Y’all are so ANNOYING. Lando: OH, WE'RE ANNOYING?? Carlos: Bro, you’ve been on the same 20-second scene for an hour. Max: Every time I refresh my feed, IT’S THE SPICY SCENE. Oscar: IT'S EVERYWHERE. Yuki: Every edit is just that one shot. Carlos: We lost him. He’s gone. Mark: Lost who? Lando: Charles. Yuki: Gone forever. Oscar: Charles Leclerc, 1997-2024, cause of death: thirst trap edits. Max: Rest in peace, king. Charles: BLOCK ME. Mark: Bro, what did I even do?? 💀💀💀

🏎️ Race Day — Post-Race Chaos

[3:00 PM]

Yuki: P3 FOR MARK LET’S GOOO Lando: 🔥🔥🔥🔥 Oscar: YOU DID THAT. Max: Look at him. Podium prince. Carlos: Rookie where??? I don’t see one. Lando: BUT WHERE IS HE GOING LMAO. Carlos: BRO JUST FINISHED THE RACE AND SPRINTED AWAY. Yuki: THE MAN DIDN’T EVEN CELEBRATE. Oscar: LITERALLY WENT “GG” AND LEFT. Max: He’s running like the cops are after him. Lando: IM CRYING HE’S TAKING OFF HIS RACE SUIT WHILE WALKING. Yuki: SHIRTLESS MARK RETURNS. Carlos: THE PEOPLE ARE GONNA EAT THIS UP. Max: Nah, bro is smooth with it. Unzipped, tossed his top, and kept moving. Charles: WHERE IS HE GOING. Carlos: TO HIS MOVIE PROMOTION, OBVIOUSLY. Yuki: HE JUST GOT P3 AND NOW HE’S DOING PRESS FOR A MOVIE. Max: "This man never rests." Oscar: "Booked and busy." Lando: MOVIE STAR LIFESTYLE. Carlos: He’s literally switching between “F1 Star” and “Hollywood Star” in 3 minutes. Yuki: Dual threat. Oscar: Name one man smoother than this. Max: I’ll wait. Charles: He should slow down. Lando: AWWWWWWWWWW. Carlos: NAH. Max: THE CONCERN. Yuki: 🥺🥺🥺 Oscar: Let’s frame that. “He should slow down.” Lando: Charles, you’re so soft for him. Charles: SHUT UP.

[3:30 PM]

Mark: What did I miss? Lando: BRO, YOU JUST DID A SPEEDRUN OF "MOST SUCCESSFUL PERSON ALIVE." Carlos: RACE FINISH, MOVIE PROMOTION, AND A THOUSAND THIRST TRAPS. Yuki: Multi-tasking at its finest. Oscar: HOW DO YOU DO IT. Max: Are you secretly five people? Lando: THE SHIRTLESS WALK. THE SMOOTHNESS. THE MOVIE PROMO. WHAT ARE YOU MADE OF. Charles: He should slow down. Mark: What. Lando: HAHAHAHAHAHA. Carlos: GOT HIM. Max: BUSTED. Yuki: "He should slow down" you’re so in love, bro. Mark: 😳 Charles: STOP TALKING.

[4:00 PM]

Carlos: Anyway. Yuki: Anyway. Oscar: Anyways. Max: "He should slow down" will live rent-free in my head forever. Lando: Making it the new chat name, give me a second. 🏎️ Group Chat Name Changed to: "He Should Slow Down 🥺" 🏎️ Charles: I’m leaving this chat. Yuki: You’ll be back. Mark: Always are. Carlos: GOT ‘EM. Oscar: ETERNAL.

______________________________________________________________ (If you want to know more about Mark...you can read it here in my story Racing hearts)

[letteredlettered]

Hello!! Firstly, I'd just like to say I've recently discovered your drarry work, and I have been reading your entire catalogue of it for the last week. Pulled all nighters can't stop reading it, reading it. I devoured The Boy Who Lived Twice in one sitting and I couldn't believe how well crafted it was. Blew my mind.

Now, all of this is to say, your prose has this elegant straightforwardness that is so succinct, so clear and so evocative. Your dialogue is absolute *perfection*. What are your influences? Books or authors you feel made an impression on you? I'd love to know what you read, because god I love what you write.

Thank you! I'm so glad you like my fics.

Jane Austen is a huge influence. Whenever my prose feels indistinct and overburdened, I return to her. She says things extremely sharply and cleanly.

Sarah Rees Brennan was a huge influence on me in terms of POV. I tend to write a very tight third person, so tight that the reader can generally see things the viewpoint character cannot. Check out the first book of The Demon's Lexicon series for one of the best examples of this I've read.

I spent a lot of time with Robin McKinley as a kid. I don't think that our styles match very well; she can do an ethereal, fairytale tone that I've kind of given up on. But what I loved best about her was that she could do that tone but then write something incredibly down to earth. I would check out Beauty or Deerskin for my favorite examples of this.

I actually also came into the style I write now writing for Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) fandom. While most of the stories I wrote in that fandom didn't have very sharp dialogue, I remember writing a story (a WIP still languishing on livejournal, sadly) where I realized I had "found" my voice and style. It was extremely dialogue-heavy. BtVS was famous at the time for its extremely fast-paced, idiosyncratic, snappy dialogue. The dialogue is now considered dated, and the creator is a douche, but imo it's still great writing, especially the early shows. I still go back to it sometimes to figure out a conversation with multiple people, or to work on my humor.

As for authors that have made an impression on me, I'd check out George Eliot. My favorite book is Daniel Deronda. It has wonderful dialogue, especially for an older book. Dickens, Dostoevsky, and Hugo all made pretty big impressions on me as well; I think these big, hefty books with really big ideas really influenced my language, even though I would by no means call my style 19th c.

I'd also check out Rainbow Rowell. I wouldn't say she influenced the style I write with now, because I had it before I read anything by her, but she's one of the few contemporary authors I read and think, "Yeah, I'd write it like that." I think anything by her is a great read that can give you a lot to think about in terms of style.

In my mind, Sally Rooney is a little like Rowell in terms of a cleans style that packs a sharp analysis. I'd call Rowell more comfortable, funny, and genuine, while Rooney is a bit aloof and literary. I actually don't like the stories in her books very much, but I found Conversations with Friends particularly refreshing in terms of writing style.

C.S. Pacat's Captive Prince series also left an impression on me. It has a clean, simple style, with a narrator who doesn't see everything the reader does. And I also did learn a lot from the use of the word "said," in those books--it was something I already knew! and yet.

I think some fanfic that made a big impression on me is The Paradox Series, by wordstrings (Sherlock/John, Sherlock BBC), Spice, by eimeo (Kirk/Spock, Star Trek TOS), Children, Wake Up by hollycomb (Kylo Ren/Hux, Star Wars: The Force Awakens) and Tarnished Gold, by prim_the_amazing (Shen Yuan/Luo Binghe, Scum Villain's Self-Saving System). The styles in these fics vary, but each bowled me over at different points with how beautifully something was articulated or how spectacularly a scene was crafted. I think about Spice all the time in particular.

I'd also say that if you're thinking about dialogue in particular, I also love both Oscar Wilde's and Tom Stoppard's plays.

If you are a writer, I did write a series on writing dialogue. Check out the tag "lettered writes dialogue". The first post is here.

[dayseternal-blog]

NOOOOOOO OMG 😱😭

There I was, just scrolling peacefully (I almost never check my notifs right away),

oo, NaruHina fanart, so pretty, look at Naruto's bright smile, Hinata's schoolgirl outfit, a high school au :) ... "I have high expectations for my hero"...my hero...hmm that sounds really familiar, like I - scrolls a little more-

from "It's No Secret" ?????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????💥💥💥

FAMILIAR LIKE I WROTE THAT??? THERE'S A SECOND IMAGE??? Of THAT SCENE??? The one of Naruto crouching down?????

ALSO, okay, ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO

The Shoujo magical sparkles and flowers blooming blossoming sparkling everywhere okay 😭 you know what, yes, Jolly, you really truly nailed the concept here, that is the EXACT thing happening in my brain. It's No Secret is just a super girly, dorky shoujo manga, and I'm SO EMBARRASSED YET APPRECIATIVE??? that you brought my little baby fish of my first serious attempt at fanfic writing off my brain and into the world as this fully-formed drawing that PERFECTLY encapsulates how flirty and lovey dovey they are when they're not even dating 💀 I'm dead, people aren't supposed to see this.

okay, my initial "NOOOOO" up there is because when you told me that you really wanted to draw a scene, and in no wondering of mine did I EVER think it was from It's No Secret, like THAT's NOT the fic you were supposed to be inspired by???? I thought, if she read most of my fics already, maybe like Little Samurai since you remembered that one, or maybe like Last Chance or Friend of Mine..., BUT IT'S NO SECRET???????? You even read that?????? Such an old fic?????? That's not even that good, like I did NOT write it well and

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Why is your art so HIGH-TIER for my smutty, stupid writing?????????? 😭

It's No Secret is supposed to be for readers who have explored my other fics already, and have gone down the fanfic rabbit hole, so far down, that they somehow end up years in my past, and they're so into fanfics at this point, that they just forgive all my tropey, cringy, cliche plot points and characterizations, and are just caught up in sparkly NaruHina romance, maybe a part of them thinking, like, "oh, Days was also just a newbie at writing back in 2018 haha," and then all the drama of American nonsense like prom gets these readers to just forget how stupid the story actually is 💖

Unsuspecting, unrelated people who haven't read fanfics in general or my fanfics aren't supposed to just be subjected to my shoujo-brain while scrolling on Tumblr 😭😭😭 It's TOO MUCH.

IT'S TOO MUCH FOR ME. I can't handle this. I love "It's No Secret" too much, like I must protect it in all its tropey glory, it's just a baby!!!

AND YOU GO AND DRAW MY FAVORITE SCENE IN THE WHOLE STORY.

Well, along with the strawberry date and the car scene, so this scene is definitely in my top three from that fic, and you really shouldn't have 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖💖 I was not prepared. Not prepared, like I needed a warning sign or something. Dear God, I pray that innocent, unsuspecting people do not click on the link for the fic from this art. Their expectations will be too high because Jolly's art is too good, and they will just be like wtf is this cutesy possessive, jealous Naruto and too good too innocent Hinata who can do no wrong, this fic is too much.

UGH Now I feel the absolute need to reread It's No Secret because it's been ages, AGES since I reread it, I will skip certain scenes that are too embarrassing for me 😅, but I can't believe you.

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, THIS FANFIC IS TOO PRECIOUS TO ME, YOUR ART IS TOO PRETTY.

Just the fact that you nailed the concept on the head so well with the flowers, and Naruto's EYE, showing how ooey-gooey in love he is, and the sparkles raining down, and and and you did not leave out the detail of how he's blushing super hard to his ears.

Like. This fanfic really is the prototype for every high school au I've written ever since. I can so clearly remember my descriptions just by looking at your art, even though it's been years since I wrote that scene. UGH. Hinata's hugging her books, like you know what. You know what. That is exactly how every preppy girl including myself held our books at my high school because that was The Look. but also you just nailed Naruto so well, UGHHHHH. I'm dead.

I adore you 😭🥺 Thank you for embracing my baby fish so warmly, I don't deserve this. Like there are so many better NaruHina fanfics out there in the world, and you spent your energy and talent on It's No Secret of ALL THINGS. Thank you 😭😭😭😭 I can never repay you. I could keep gushing and freaking out, but I have to go now 😭

You are the best, the ABSOLUTE BEST. I LOVE YOU. You deserve nothing but good things in your life, may God BLESS YOU for ALWAYS.

A scene from @dayseternal-blog fic "It's No Secret" (<- link)

This was meant to be two pages. I wanted to draw out more of the scene but I unfortunately have no more free time till next year 😭I just really wanted to draw this particular image out and put it out there (the after math 🤭):

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year~

[jenjenmina]

Can I just say I once thought Alberu and Rosalyn would get married. No, I do not ship them. In fact, this made me almost quit reading the novel 😭😭. I was wrong and I am so happy.

I forget specifics because it was so long ago but it was when the gang is at this library (something something bud illis and mercenaries.) Cale is finally revealing Record. I believe they were looking for more information on Ancient powers but basically Cale is hot, he's sweaty and then they call the Crown Prince.

And during the call, Alberu's thoughts go to '…and I'm never getting married'. I wrote this in my bookmarks: "You saw Cale hot and sweaty and your thoughts went to marriage??". That's not important to the point, just thought I should mention it. But the interesting thing is, during the call, even I don't remember what it was but Alberu and Rosalyn talk about something and something just clicked in my brain.

As it point, tcf to me was not that special YET and it was just another fantasy 1000+ chapter brainrot like the cultivation novels I read, so romance wasnt something I would be surprised at. Plus, I always tried to guess which characters were getting set up to be together.

Something about Alberu and Rosalyn's conversation made me IMMEDIATELY assume that they were an endgame couple. I hated that. 'THEY DO NOT LOOK GOOD TOGETHER'. It actually made me dislike them both a little as characters (I changed my mind don't worry). Especially since it didn't make sense. Rosalyn ran away from royalty to be a mage, why the hell would she be queen of Roan?

But the way they actually did look like a generic couple is what made me dislike it. They did look like a generic fantasy endgame couple but Rosalyn x Alberu doesn't make sense (sorry to any shippers out there if there are). Plus something about the way marriage was mentioned and he had that conversation with Rosalyn, it felt like it was foreshadowing something and I guess I overthought it.

I was right, it didn't make sense, why the hell was I thinking that? When I tell you I SCREAMED and rolled my eyes everytime they interacted afterwards. I still loved them but they do not belong together.

What 'confirmed' it for me was when Cale, Raon and Rosalyn and some other people go to Alberu, eat some cookies after that library thing. Alberu mentions something about his childhood and Rosalyn thinks about how lonely he must've been and how hard it probably was. I didn't get to appreciate this sweet moment cause I was like "NOOOOOOOOOOO"

I got over it as some time passed but I still believed it would happen lol. I started to get comfortable with interacting with the fandom around chapters 600+. That's when I realized Rosalberu (cute ship name tho) isn't a thing in the fandom and there's no fanfics of it. Nothing's happened in hundreds of chapters and no one is talking about them as a couple.

For 600+ chapters, I thought Rosalyn and Alberu would get married. Once again, I'm sorry if this offends the 12 people who ship this, just thought it was funny how I genuinely believed it would be canon

[glitter-stained]

I'm writing a Jason Vs Dick fic for a secret santa exchange...

The prompt has the fic set during the Battle for the cowl arc - Jason is the villain. He's delusional (the dyeing his hair thing never really happened - he dyed his black hair red) and seriously messed up. It is a pretty dark fic.

Basically Jason knows on some level how badly messed up he is. He wants Dick to be his Robin, because he believes that it was Robin Dick who saved Bruce from darkness. He wants Dick (who is already juggling too much responsibility) to do the same for him... Be the light to his darkness...

Saw your posts about the BTFC arc in particular and mentally ill villains in general.

Any suggestions on how to handle the BtFC Jason?

...don’t ?

No, wait, listen. I know I said “write what you want as long as it’s self-aware”, it’s just you’ve chosen to write an absolute nightmare of a minefield to be self-aware about. I believe it’s possible to write Btfc fanfics that aren’t psychophobic, I just think it must be incredibly hard; Btfc is my second least favourite comic because all of it is soaked and drenched in psychophobia and I wish with all of my heart for dc to continue ignoring it and hopefully bury it under layers and layers of retcon until it’s less significant to Jason’s modern characterization than Waldo the clown (no hate on Waldo, he was much better than anything about Btfc though). So, I can give you advice for sure, I’m just concerned it will not be enough, because I wouldn’t trust myself to write a non-psychophobic Btfc fic, but you sure can try!

The core issue about Btfc (and any villainous characterization of Jason) is that, at the difference of other characters like the Joker, there’s a strange kind of coherence to it. For all we talk about Jason sometimes acting OOC, he’s reliably showing symptoms of BPD, like, to me, it’s pretty blatant. The difference between UTH and BiB or Btfc isn’t that he has BPD in one and not the other, it’s that BiB and Btfc are much more brutally psychophobic renditions of BPD than UTH (though UTH isn’t fully clean either). In other words, Btfc is a violent caricature of Borderline Personality Disorder. I’m not sure if this is on purpose, because on the one hand, it’s so consistent I feel like someone at dc told the writers “Jason has bpd” and they all ran with their caricatural representation of the disorder, or (because I don’t wanna underestimate dc’s ignorance regarding mental disorders) if they just read about him, thought “hey, he kinda fits into that subtype of stereotypical mental illness I have in mind” and projected their stereotypes about BPD about him without even knowing those are BPD stereotypes. The end result is the same: bpd on a spectrum from “almost well written” to “nastiest rep I’ve ever read”.

Now in Btfc (just as in UTH or BiB tbh) I’d say Jason is splitting, having an episode in which his BPD symptoms are flaring up completely. This can absolutely include brief psychotic episodes, and tbh the part you mentioned about dyeing his hair I can totally get behind. And because you’re writing Jason in the middle of a particularly intense episode, you can’t make the economy of considering the question of moral responsibility. If Jason is committing morally reprehensible actions as a consequence of the disordered patterns in the context of the episode, whether we’re talking about splitting or delusion or disordered thought patterns, you have to consider the question of responsibility, and on a spectrum. You also have to identify who is deciding those actions are morally reprehensible (is it Dick? The law? You, the author? The anticipated reader? All of them?) and whether you expect this judge is passed on the action, the person, or, who knows, even the disorder itself. And of course consider the implications of that fact. (For example, it’s completely possible for Dick, in the context he’s grown and developed in, and considering the insane stress he’s under, to be psychophobic as fuck; and obviously, writing a character doing something doesn’t mean that you support it, but if Jason is the villain and Dick is a hero and Dick is being psychophobic you should pay attention to whether the narrative is implying that Dick is right to be psychophobic about it.)

[anxietycheesecake]

Piggybacking on one of your recent posts, they did worse than just give The Guide nothing to do and the MAGA speech, they turned her into a prop for the needs of male characters.

That was her entire purpose.

Offering insight about Nandor and his romance struggles and being a love interest for Nandor to underscore that if The Powers That Be wanted Nandor to be physically attracted to Guillermo and making intended, overt romantic statements, he would be acting towards him as he does The Guide, but he doesn't, so get your minds out of the gutter, their love is more profound than that.

Then because the Monster is horny, all of the vampires INCLUDING NADJA are completely okay with decapitating The Guide - A FELLOW SEVERAL HUNDRED YEARS OLD VAMPIRE - with or without her consent, and attach it to a frankenbody to be the Monster's sex doll.

Lazslo literally sneaks up on her with an electric saw.

That was it. We never saw her actually working with Jerry, just blink and you miss it moments.

(Also please try to imagine Season 1-2 Nadja, who actually cared about other women who were being shat on enough to turn her into her baby vamp and take her under her wing reacting like this and tell me her character hasn't been assassinated and that this show didn't fly off the rails.)

Wow, never gave the Guide that much thought (mostly BECAUSE THE WRITERS DON'T EITHER) but now I'm so viscerally pissed about it. You're 100% right. I mean, don't quote me on this, but this show got so distasteful regarding women and minorities when SF (a woman of color, btw) became less involved and left. She was still around in season 4 but didn't even write an ep, and mind you, up until that point, her eps were the only ones where Nandor stated the possibility of the love of his life being a man, after being confirmed multisexual for a while.

Marwa should've been a guywife and this is the hill I'm dying on. You can't make a middle eastern man take a middle eastern woman's agency away and ultimately turn her into a white man. The implications are unfortunate to say the least. Like, they were smart enough to have Guillermo be a man even when making him a woman was considered too (can you imagine having a Latina as a mistreated servant to a middle eastern man? The way that would've offended everyone lmao). This is such a gross and easily avoidable oversight, YOU LITERALLY GAVE THE DUDE MALE SPOUSES

Also comparing a brown man to an orc AND NOT SUBVERTING IT in the subversive show (I was so sure they were going to reveal the orcs were actually super hot at the end, because that's what early seasons would do). Just the fat jokes last season and the obsession with making it clear again and again that Guillermo is not wanted sexually by anyone in the horny monster society. I know the fandom thinks everyone's all over him but I genuinely believe this is collective delusion (affectionate) or fanfic brain because I can't remember any of this being backed by canon aside from the Guide's crush (also ftm sexual harassment is funny, I guess). Please correct me if I'm wrong. They changed their tune so many times it's hard to keep track.

Like, not to be that friend that's too woke, but when you have a diverse cast (except for black folks smh, though I'm glad they never went there) you need to be a bit more careful and responsible with what you put in their mouths. Come on!

Went on a bit of a tangent, sorry. My heart breaks for Kristen. Good for that main cast paycheck, but imagine having your character become a regular just for it to... Not be a regular? And be disrespected every second it's around without a satisfying conclusion? They seemed to understand back in the day that seeing a character be exaggeratedly mistreated constantly is only funny for a while, but they forgot, both with her and Guillermo.

I never liked the Guide. I found her entertaining on her first appearances but thought she changed the general feel of the comedy a little too much. To be honest, I always found it hard to care about her and Nadja, because the writers themselves never seemed that interested in them. But this is so annoying and makes me want to write sapphic fixits lmao

[lucianalight]

Thanks for tagging me @theitcharchives 🥰 I hope fanfic is OK because it was the only "work" I had with some actual written scenes. They belong to the only fic I posted on AO3 (The Echo of a Scream- yes I stole the title from comics mainly because I still have no idea where I am taking it beyond self indulgent angst :P :D ). they're the first draft so they may change after the edit. They're not that out of context though.

From the second chapter Aoura Borealis:

A low cracking noise interrupted his thoughts. Dancing green lights had brightened the sky. As green as his magic...the magic Frigga taught him. He had lost the only reminder of his mother. And even this realm was mocking him. Dangling his loss in front of his eyes in a frozen wasteland, a near mockery of where he was born.

...

"Comfortable are we?"

"Not in the slightest Agent Romanoff"

"What are you doing here?"

"Watching this magnificent phenomenon of your realm, seems like I arrived at the right time"

"Aha and what else?"

"Nothing," he said matter of factly. "Not an insult to your poweress, but I expected to see more of your band of misfits."

"Do you think I can't handle you?

"I wouldn't dare."

"I'm not alone."

"I can tell. But none of them are the Avengers. I don't believe Stark can stay silent for that long."

From the fourth chapter: A Fire Made of Ice:

The cottage was cold and empty. It looked like it was left alone for years. At least there was a bed and some blankets. The needed lugs and a fire but Loki had to take care of Natasha first. Her clothes were still wet and her eyes were unfocused. He put her down which made her shaking worse. Her hands instinctively reached for him. For the warmth of his Jotun skin. Loki would have laughed at the absurdity if he wasn't worried for her life.

"It's just a moment Natasha. I'm here." he drew circles on her hands with his thumb and bit his lip.

"You're going to kill me for this later." but he had no choice.

Tagging @marril96 @abby118 @tori-artemis @therese-lokidottir and anyone who wants to play.

Storyteller Saturday! | Out-of-context quotes

Share some out-of-context quotes from a work of your chosing! Funny, badass, witty, quippy, sexy, romantic, etc.

Tagging @positivelyruined @mxxnlightwriting @topazadine @theitcharchives @sarah-sandwich-writes and hello there new friend @finchmomentwrites

—

From Eternal Night of the Northern Sky

“It’s the transient nature of what we are.” “Transient? You’re immortal.” “And nothing else is. We don’t get to go peacefully in our sleep. We don’t get to see the twilight closing in after a long and fulfilling life. When we die, it’s fast, violent, and unpredictable.” ... “Nothing is permanent when you live forever. Nothing is yours. This room won’t be mine forever. My clothes won’t last forever. Love doesn’t last forever. So… So when someone becomes your friend or your ally or your confidant, your lover, your partner, it’s always only for now. And I’m not old enough to appreciate the beauty in fragility yet.”

From Tell Me How Long

“You want to shock the world into saving our oceans, showing every little girl out there that mermaids exist and are dying because of human intervention is a way to go about it, one we shouldn’t squander so lightly. People don’t give a shit about shrimp and coral and even Nemo, but show them Ariel’s got cancer and the humanitarian outrage does the work for us.” “Or they end up in zoos." “Do not underestimate the power of legions of pissed off little girls. Or theater kids and Disney nuts.”

From Eternal Night's TBD sequel

"And then what, Madeira? What if they refuse?” ... “You’ll slaughter us all? You need our numbers. You need Tanarang’s position on the map. You don’t have the forces to blockade us and you can’t starve us out. You can’t kill us all and start over because you need soldiers with experience that you can trust." ... “We will always be at a disadvantage against the living masses. They can throw tens of thousands of conscripts at our gates and overwhelm us with sheer weight. We don’t have foot soldiers. We have, at most, a thousand vampires in all the North, and every single body counts. Tanarang has ninety-one who’ve taken the oath and eight Aeskerat under our protection, and we’re telling you no. So then what, Grandsire?” 

Don't be shy! Anyone can tag and add on.

[magnimoon]

Bumblebee Art - War for Cybertron Trilogy

I wanted to do a complex one, as practice. Also sorry for the delay, I was doing homework!

-UPDATE- The completed version is ready, check it out here to see it!

This design I believe also appears on some IDW comics? (I have never read them) But it is very similar to the G1 version, but with grills on the cheeks in case Bee wants to do some carne asada. Here's the bigger version:

Personally, I like this design. Maybe I'll do at the end a top 5 designs or something now that I'm really analyzing Bee's designs. Time for the poll:

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i think fandom spaces would become much more enjoyable across the board if people stopped flipping their pancakes over other fans enjoying characters that they don't like. or, god forbid, like them but in 'the wrong way.'

[toxintouch]

how do you think the lis would respond if mc sheepishly asked if they could fondle their tiddies? (even mhin, even though i KNOW they'd shank a bitch.)

Here ya go, Anon!! :3 They pronouns & non-specific language/MC used. Suggestive, but no other warnings.

AIS:

Pretends he doesn’t hear them.

“Hmm?”  He holds a hand to his ear, a toothy little smirk on his face, his scarred eyebrow raised.  The way he’s making direct eye contact is an unmistakable challenge.

“You wanna what now, Sparrow?” 

He knows exactly what MC said and they can tell.  He just wants to see if they'll say it again.  They didn’t sound so sure about whatever that request was just now…

His smirk grows when– (if?? But c’mon he’s so clearly saying yes, please) –

His smirk grows when they don’t back down.  He spreads his arms out in invitation, haori splaying open.

He’s patient for as long as he can stand once they get their hands on him but it isn’t long before he finds himself grabbing them by the wrists, pulling them closer.  Pressing his palms against the back of their hands to encourage them to make full, firm contact.  Haven’t they been warned?  He’s awfully greedy.

(And: if he purposely presses their touch against his heart for a moment, no one needs to know but him.)

VERE:

He gives them a blank look– a look unsettlingly similar to his hungry, flat eyed stare.  Though, it’s gone in an instant–so quick they might even be able to convince themself that they imagined it.  One blink and his entire expression is different, his tail swishing elegantly and with a flourish that can only be described as pleased.

“Well,” he purrs, “aren’t you just adorable?  I did tell you to ask next time you wanted to touch…  Very well then.  I’ll reward your ability to follow simple instructions.”  He relaxes luxuriously into the cushions of the divan that he’s resting on.  “Come along, then.  Fondle to your heart's content.  Don’t leave me waiting.”  He beckons to them with a crooked finger, tempting them closer, a haunting echo of their first meeting. 

Survival instincts be damned…he did give them permission…

He breathes a chuckle out as they touch him, his mouth hot against their ear as he buries a grin into their neck.

In the space of another breath, he’s flipped the two of them, leaving them pinned against the divan.

“You didn't think you were getting a single thing for free from me anymore, did you?  Tut tut.  After you treated my generosity so callously before?  From now on, I’ll be expecting payment in kind.  Quid pro quo, darling.”

KURAS:

He looks at them, eyes crinkled with amusement.  “Am I to take it that your interest is academic?  Studying anatomy, perhaps?  I do have a few select texts I could offer you which you might find quite beneficial.”

The embarrassed look on their face seems to amuse him further, the corners of his lips tugging up as he takes in their expression.

“Of course, the benefits of a more hands-on method of scholarship should not be overlooked.”  He takes pity on them, beckoning them over as he takes a seat on the doctor’s stool, right next to the cot where they first met him.  He neatly removes his coat, folding it and laying it to rest beside him.  Despite their fears, he doesn’t start listing out the anatomical names for things as they lay their hands on him.  His eyes slip shut as they rest their hands on his  shoulders–he’s still so tall, even sitting on the low stool–sliding their hands down, admiring the sturdy form and shape of him.

His own hands come up, clutching around their waist with surprising strength.  His eyes are bright and intense as he looks up at them.  They expect him to say something but he merely squeezes them–Possessively?–

Like he might be able to trap them in this moment with him forever, through will alone.

He closes his eyes again; his grip loosens. His self-control back is back in its necessary place, and he finds himself repentant.

“Forgive me.  You are quite endearing.  I simply find you…difficult to resist.”  He admits.

MHIN:

You are so correct anon.  Shanked immediately.  But MC bonks their head into Mhin’s chest on their way to the ground, so…  Achievement Unlocked? Or, for MC’s sake, I’ll assume that they have earned a level of trust/intimacy with Mhin that makes Mhin a lil' less likely to get stabby.

Mhin’s eyebrows furrow as Mhin crosses their arms, physically creating distance between MC and their…

Mhin’s cheeks go a little red as they realize how obvious their body language is, their pale eyes darting to the side as they worry about what other things they’ve accidentally telegraphed to MC. How many of Mhin's true thoughts and feelings are they privy to...?  Shaking themself mentally, they quickly snap out of it, pinning MC with a pointed glare.

“If you value your life at all, you’ll never ask me that again.”  Mhin marches away.  “Staying at the Wet Wick–around Leander–has ruined your brain.  You need to get out of that place while you still have some grey matter left.”

. . .

Later, escorting MC back to said Wet Wick, ducking through the lesser known and narrower streets after a long day of following dead ends together, Mhin finds the thought ruining their own brain.  It must be the heat of MC pressed against them in the alleyway, the comforting, all-consuming scent of them, the memory of MC’s flushed face while they were asking Mhin’s permission...  MC’s much braver than them, Mhin thinks bitterly, so much more willing to let themself have what they want, despite their cursed hands.  Mhin sighs, stopping abruptly.  Turning.  Pinching the bridge of their nose.

“Look–you can–”

Mhin feels themself blushing all the way down to their chest.  They open their mouth and close it a couple of times, attempting to articulate what they want.  They make a noise of aggravated frustration.  Carefully–very carefully, and very slowly, so that MC knows exactly what they are doing, they reach for the bandaged hands at MC’s side.  They rest MC’s hands lightly on their chest, shivering as they feel the brush of fingers against their clothed ribs, thumbs pressing into their sternum.  They bite down a noise that would surely make them perish where they stand.  Stars above, how long since–

“...Does your heart always beat this fast, Mhin?”

“Quiet.”  They snap.

Wow Mhin.  Right there in the alleyway huh?  Well ok then. I see what ur about.

LEANDER:

The two of them are alone in the room at the Wet Wick, just sitting together innocently on the bed when MC asks.

Well–they try to ask.

He hears them start the question and his coat and shirt (and tiddie belt) are coming off before they can even finish.  He gives them a quiet chuckle, blushing as his shirt(s) get caught at his shoulders. 

Though the perfect way it frames his boobs might convince them he did it on purpose…

“You meant skin to skin, right?”  He laughs again, leaning back on his hands and looking entirely too appetizing–is he arching his back a little more than necessary? 

“I don’t mind at all! Though, if you could help me with…”  His eyes crinkle as he smiles at them, head tilted like a puppy, waiting expectantly.

They get up from the bed to help him discard his remaining topmost layers of clothing, standing above him in order to better assist.  His eyes are pinned to theirs the moment the fabric barrier is fully cast aside.  “I…can’t say this is a bad view,” he admits, eyes roving along their form, tongue darting out to wet his lips.  Then, more sincerely: “I’m glad that you asked me for this.  Don’t be afraid to touch, all right?  Nothing bad will happen to me, promise. Remember: whatever you want.”

They find themself feeling along the edges of his scar, tracing the line of it across his pectoral…  His breath catching when they accidentally scratch him a little with their nails (MC is just a little clumsy–that was completely unintentionally, really) is dangerously addictive.

“Ah... Anywhere else you’d like to touch?  It would be a shame to waste this opportunity…”

If they're feeling shy, he could offer a few suggestions.  He really, really wants to help in any way he can. :)

BONUS!ELYON:   “You can, but I will have to charge.”

[doodlejoltik]

grass knot

[~4.5k words, read it here or on Ao3. tagged with Volo and Lance since they appear as prominent characters; Rei-centric]

Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

Rei, caught in the stirrings of a new arc, tries to rise to its call, but trips over the past at every turn.

A full rewrite of that Mysterious Stones chapter where Volo first shows up, from Rei’s POV, plus a bit more. Written mostly before the Arceus Arc began.

(Setting expectations: a lot of this fic is just Rei Thinking About Stuff haha. Love getting into his head! His characterisation is a little bit different/more nuanced compared to the other Rei oneshot I wrote; hopefully you'll still be along for the ride if you've read that one!)

-

“Show me thy bond.” It echoes inside Rei’s skull, down to the very bone, the same as in his earliest memories. He nearly buckles under its weight, but it's a welcome feeling.

After so long without direction, this is a relief. Arceus has finally spoken.

The words fit perfectly with the half-remembered fragments Rei had received some weeks ago in the middle of the night. Why hadn't they been intelligible then? What makes now different? The sync stones ultimate are one factor, of course. Maybe Arceus draws power from them, which is strange to say of a deity, but from what he knows of the Plates, it might not be so far-fetched.

Prince Lear disperses the murmuring crowd; so, the audience all heard it too, not just those on the arena floor. Professor Bellis congratulates Bettie. Cynthia, Lance and Steven whisper among themselves. And his mind still whirls with new theories as they gather together.

What does Arceus want? 

‘Seek out all Pokemon’ had meant completing the Pokedex. At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Now, this time, Arceus likely means for them to showcase bonds with their Pokemon, given the context. But what does that actually entail?

Cynthia’s words cut above everyone else's. “Rei. Was that voice…?”

All eyes are on him. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, as the familiar weight of it settles in. Things are moving, now. 

“Yes. I'm certain. That was —”

“Indeed! That was a message from Arceus!”

His words catch in his throat. Off-balance, suddenly, as all his thoughts fall away, replaced by a swooping feeling he can't quite identify —

He whirls around.

Volo is here.

He takes a few steps back, an involuntary half-stumble, before remembering himself. 

Those flashes of movement he's been seeing, the feeling of being watched, a Togepi, unattended: they’re all now terrifyingly validated. He'd half thought them a product of his overactive mind.

“Excuse-moi, pardon me… but who are you?” Professor Bellis ventures. 

“I'm Volo — a humble merchant who loves history and mythology!” With that, he flashes a winning smile. Rei could laugh at the sheer audacity of it all, but his thoughts are still strewn across the dusty ground, scattered, and they slip from his grasp as he tries to gather them up. Whatever sense of gravity he’d felt upon hearing Arceus’ voice has completely lifted.

“But more importantly!” Volo continues. “When the arena shone brightly, I also heard that voice.” He brings his hand up to point at the air with enthusiastic emphasis, a gesture still so terribly familiar. Rei clenches his fists, feeling the nails dig into his skin. Not really out of anger. More as a reminder.

The last time he’d seen Volo had been. Well. Memorable. But that isn’t the image that smiles back at him now, tripping him up. He's in Gingko uniform again, complete with ridiculous oversized backpack, which Rei had thought discarded, up there on the peak. Apparently not. Had Volo returned later, still seething, to collect his things? The concept is strangely hilarious.

“I wonder… these sync stones ultimate… might they be some sort of test from Arceus? If we could show him that ‘bond’ he desires —”

“Sorry, test? Arceus?” Cynthia interrupts with a frown, holding a hand out. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, it's quite simple. Arceus' presence was summoned by these stones, in this exhibition, and he requests us to further show our bond. What else could he desire?” Volo says, gesturing widely. 

Rei finally pulls himself upright — scrapes his thoughts together into something resembling coherence. The initial shock has drained away, settling into a distant sort of apprehension. He watches silently. Volo’s not really saying anything too unreasonable, but where is this leading? 

There’s so much he doesn’t know. What has Volo been doing, all this time? How long has he been on Pasio? What does he hope to gain, approaching them like this?

He’ll let Volo continue, then. It's an opportunity for some of those questions to be answered.

(And it gives Rei time to think of what to say.)

“Well, put that way, that does make sense,” Steven nods along. “Should we organise for more trainers to try the stones, then?” 

“Oui, I would love to gather more data!” Professor Bellis answers. “However, the stones are still quite volatile. There is progress on this, yes, but for now, I would like to limit their use, capisci?” 

At this, Bettie speaks up. “Yeah, it was weird.” She runs a hand through her Pikachu’s fur, the mouse curled up lazily in her arms. Nobody in Hisui was quite that affectionate with their Pokemon. Certainly not Akari, though she'd grown closer with her own Pikachu over time. As for himself, Decidueye had been standoffish, averse to being carried even as a baby Rowlet. Well, actually — as his distracted mind digs deeper into memory, he recalls — there had been Volo and his Togepi. 

He casts that errant thought away, buries it deep once again. Bettie is still speaking.

“And it was like nothing was there, at first, and Pikachu and I had to concentrate really hard. And then — whoosh! Wow! Overwhelming,” she shifts Pikachu’s weight to one arm to gesture with emphasis, “and all at once.”

“And this is when Arceus spoke,” Lance asks. 

Bettie nods, now subdued. “It was a rush! I think you guys could handle it, but I dunno if everyone could.”

“If I may,” and all attention returns to Volo. “It seems the stones can currently be used by trainers with particularly powerful convictions, and bonds with their Pokemon,” he gestures with a smile to Bettie. She blushes. 

At the casual flattery, Rei can't help the small frown that twists onto his face. It seems innocent enough, but compliments and niceties can so easily mask true intent. 

Especially with Volo.

Volo continues. “Perhaps we might solve this by way of a tournament, of sorts. Allowing Arceus to witness our talent and dedication, with the victor bestowed the honour of using the stones! Of course, the winner of such a competition would have the fortitude necessary to handle such power.”

Well, taking that to its logical end… Volo wants to win, and be granted this ‘honour’ he so conveniently proposed. But why go to all this trouble? The stones appear out in the streets quite often — apparently, found even by preschoolers. Volo should have no trouble obtaining them.

Does he know something they don't?

“Bettie here led the first winning PML team, did she not?” At this, the girl in question smiles Mareepishly. “And that is why she was the one to demonstrate the stones, I presume,” Volo inclines his head towards the Champions.

Informed guess, or something more? He thinks back on half-seen, furtive movements, and wonders. 

“That's right,” Steven confirms. “Bettie is a shining example to us: a leader of the next generation. We decided there was no better choice.” 

“So you suggest we hold another tournament,” Lance says thoughtfully. “Well, there is precedent. Prince Lear,” he turns to the Prince, whom Rei had honestly half forgotten was there. “What do you think?”

Before Lear can reply, Volo reinserts himself into the conversation. “It would be a grand tournament, truly fitting of Pasio's reputation. Why, perhaps, the deity Arceus might even be compelled to descend —”

Ah. So that’s what he intends. “Aren't you getting ahead of yourself there?” Rei interrupts. He means to sound stern, but it comes out sounding more incredulous. Not at the idea itself, but at how brazenly it’s admitted.

“Perhaps,” Volo says with a careless shrug. He doesn’t acknowledge Rei any differently than the others, still maintaining their inadvertently shared ruse. “It's only speculation, of course, but it is exciting to think about!”

“Hmph! I believe I was the one being addressed,” Prince Lear declares, arms crossed. His red shades flash dangerously, eyes hidden under their glint. Directed at him, it's almost like the full glare of an Alpha Pokemon.

Rei’s face flushes with heat to the tips of his ears. Great time he picked to enter the discussion. He quietly ducks his head down; the Prince is in charge, here, after all. He'd rather not test his patience. 

Meanwhile, Volo just smiles, seemingly unfazed. 

There's a part of him that really wants to know how Volo does that. It's just — he's so confident. How can he be so sure that everything will work out in his favour?

“A grand tournament,” Prince Lear ponders, tapping his foot. “And what could be grander than the second Pokemon Masters League?”

“Indeed!” Volo beams. “I'm sure the audience would love to see the clash between a king and a deity, would they not?”

Lear's tapping stills. His guarded stance loosens; he's taken aback. Volo emphasised king, and oh, Lear's official title is Prince. Hm.

There's something more deliberate about it beyond just casual flattery. 

Lear uncrosses his arms and seems at a loss, for a moment, on where to put them before straightening up with his hands on hips. “Is that so?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that!” A pause, unnecessarily dramatic. Nobody breaks the silence, not even Volo. 

The Prince looks around with some satisfaction and continues. “Very well, then. The winning team of the second PML will be granted the honour of using the sync stones ultimate.” He grins, sharply, red shades flashing once again. “Which will include me, of course. Hahahahaha!”

“You have a real gift for making quick decisions!” Volo says cheerfully. The tension breaks. Chuckles arise from the rest of the group, and Rei can only stare in disbelief. That — that has to be mockery, right? But everyone else seems to take it as light teasing, even the quick-tempered Prince himself. 

Against his better judgement, his gaze catches Volo’s. 

He doesn't know what he expects to see: amusement? Satisfaction? Triumph? And there's some of that, but it's a wry, knowing sort of look, like a joke shared only between the two of them. 

Already the others are starting to animatedly discuss between themselves. Bettie makes a teasing comment to Lear, who scoffs. Professor Bellis says something about checking in on the sync stone technology. Cynthia, Lance and Steven form their own little group again, speaking in low tones, and he can't quite follow their discussion. 

It seems like he's the only one who notices Volo quietly slipping away, and he's got half a mind to do the same. 

Would it be incredibly ill-advised to follow him? Probably. But he still has questions. And it’s possible that Volo will let his guard down when they're alone. 

(Even to him, that seems incredibly optimistic. But there’s things between them that he himself would rather only unearth in private. Maybe Volo feels the same way. And even if not, perhaps he'll gloat, or tease playfully, and let on something of use hidden in the thorned barbs.)

It's not like he has much left to contribute here. Tournaments and competitions and organised displays are foreign to him. The Neo Champion Stadium had felt so different from the kind of battles he’s used to… which, in part, could be why he lost. 

He needs to train. If everything rests on the result of this tournament, he has to be ready. 

The group seems to be naturally dispersing, at least — Professor Bellis just excused herself — so he won't be missed. With some quick words, he, too, turns to leave. They can handle this part, and Rei will do his. 

Prince Lear had mentioned a winning team, and Pasio battles are generally three on three, from what he's seen. Who could he ask? There's Akari, of course. And the clan leaders, but it would feel strange to team up with only one and not the other. A little bit too reminiscent of another time. 

His steps carry him nearly to the edge of the arena.

Besides, he's getting ahead of himself. He still has to… well, he should explain everything to them. About Volo.

Even all these months later, it still aches. He had buried it all, hoping to let it rot away, to be free of that thorny mass of contradictory feelings that arose every time he dwelled on it. 

But the longer he waits, the more impossible it seems to explain — to explain not only the events of that fateful day, but also his own, confusing silence on the matter. Though he’s tried to plough the field, turn it all over and start anew, it still lies just beyond the surface, and a single misstep is all it takes to snarl him all over again. Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

(Akari is unquestionably the one person he's closest to. But there was a time when that singular title wasn't so clear cut.)

There’s a sort of tunnel that leads out of the stadium, a long darkened archway that passes under the audience stands. He's about halfway through when he hears footsteps from behind, swift and purposeful strides. 

His breath catches, for a moment. But Volo left first, and the arena had been flat and wide, with no corners to lurk in. Besides, it's too loud. Clearly telegraphed.

Cynthia, maybe? 

He turns. The face that greets Rei is slightly less familiar. “Lance,” he acknowledges the Champion. 

“Rei,” Lance greets in turn, stopping a few paces away. Arms crossed, silhouetted against the light of the arena and framed by the tunnel’s dark, arching walls, his tall figure is — intimidating. 

He can’t help but wonder whether that's deliberate. 

“You left before I could ask,” Lance says, and there's a pause. “As someone who has prior experience with Arceus, what do you think of all this?”

A fair enough question. But the way it's said… sounds a little too carefully worded. Casual, but purposefully so.

What sort of answer does Lance expect? 

“It sounds reasonable enough,” he decides to say. As much as he hates to lend credence to Volo’s proposal, he can't think of anything better. It somehow seems to suit their needs perfectly, which he's sure is no accident. “Back in Hisui, I was told to seek out all Pokemon, so I helped with the Pokedex. In the same way, I guess this could help fulfil Arceus' new request.”

Lance nods along, but his brows furrow. “You sounded more sceptical, earlier,” he points out. 

Ah. Not really his intent, but… “That was about the more…” he casts about for the right word, “speculative part of it. I don't know if it would really call Arceus down, or anything like that.” Though honestly, he doesn't know that it won't.

“What do you think will happen, then?” Lance asks, with clear curiosity, and, well. He doesn't really have a good answer to that. 

“... I don't know,” he admits. “I never actually completed the Pokedex, so I'm not sure what happens after Arceus’ request is fulfilled.” He had been close, but there had still been so many minor tasks that needed finishing, things to busy himself with, to arrange and get in order before he had to face Giratina again. 

He hadn't been ready, yet. Maybe Arceus had grown impatient, and brought him here to confront his problems directly. Maybe it cared. Maybe it didn't. 

(Seeing Giratina with Cynthia had felt a little like he was the punchline of some divine comedy.)

Lance purses his lips and looks off into the distance, out of the stadium, past Rei. He wishes he could read the man’s expressions better; as it is, the set of his brows calls to mind Kamado, and everything else tangled up with it. 

Finally, Lance’s gaze turns directly to Rei once again, and he speaks. “That Volo… you two know each other.” 

It’s not a question, but even then, the expression of unguarded surprise he can’t hold back might be answer enough.

Lance has one hand on his hip, the other, at rest, is framed by the drape of his cape. He looks down at Rei as he states plainly, “His clothes aren’t of modern make, so the logical assumption would be that he’s from Hisui. Cynthia confirmed my suspicion. And, historically, Hisuian communities were few and quite tightly knit. It’s more likely than not.” 

He tries to keep his expression carefully neutral, as logic digs deeper, dangerously close to things unexplainable. And the earth is already recently disturbed, soft, friable. He can’t offer much resistance. “I've seen him around,” he concedes.

“But why did neither of you acknowledge the other?” Lance looks confused; frustrated, even. “Even a passing acquaintance would be notable, with both of you being here in the future.”

And here — this is familiar. The accusations. The questions he can’t answer. But it’s different; it’s not that he doesn’t know the answers. He just can’t seem to put them in an order that would make sense, to anyone else.

(Does he really understand, himself?)

But eyes are on him, and he needs to explain, in whatever unsatisfactory way he can. “Volo and I… it's complicated,” he laughs weakly, tugging at his scarf. “He genuinely does love history and mythology, you know. I guess I wouldn't be that surprised if he was right about Arceus.” All those times they’d pored over ruins together, Volo excitedly babbling on about whatever legend this one related to — there had to have been the seed of something real, something genuine, in that. 

It’s not really an answer. Lance can obviously tell, because he crosses his arms. 

“Is he bad news?” he asks bluntly. 

There’s no twisting his way out of this one.

Some of the panic he’s feeling must bubble up onto his face, because Lance’s expression softens, just a bit. The man sighs. “Look, Rei, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but us Champions need to have all the relevant information. This tournament, the stones,” he gestures around them, “affect everyone here on Pasio. So I’m sorry about involving myself in your business, but it's necessary. Should we be keeping an eye on Volo?” 

It’s obvious what the correct answer is. And every second he delays responding makes him seem all the more untrustworthy. He questions, a little hysterically, why this of all things is what he stubbornly roots himself for, risking this place he’s made for himself in another unfamiliar land. 

But his jaw works, and all that slips out of his throat, past the thorny tangle, is a “Maybe.” The most ground he can concede. “Volo’s… passionate about Arceus.” Which is perhaps the biggest understatement of both this century and the last. 

There's an expectant pause. He almost leaves it at that, but it seems it's too unfinished a sentiment for Lance. “He wants to be seen by it.”

“The same way you are?” Lance says sharply. Arceus, he picked up on that fast. Rei hopes he leaves it at that. A rivalry fallen apart, twisted into bitterness and jealousy, nothing more.

Nothing world-ending. 

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Cynthia, and by extension the other Champions. It’s just… he can deal with it himself. It’s what he was probably brought here to do, anyway. The thought of someone else turning him over, and finding him lacking — fighting his battles for him — makes him uneasy. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he answers, with a painful swallow. 

Besides, he hopes he can resolve this peacefully. He’d beaten Volo before, even after he’d flipped the rules of battle on their head. And this time Volo can’t upend the script; one good thing about tournaments, he supposes, is that the rules are rigorously upheld. A different sort of battleground.

He wants to laugh at that. Suppositions and wildly optimistic thoughts are his only foundation, and yet it’s enough for him to reject all possibility of outside help.

Then again, if he can’t even bring himself to tell Akari, what chance does he have of breaking that self-imposed silence, here, on less familiar ground?

Lance hums, assessing this. He uncrosses his arms. “If that friend of yours does anything drastic, tell us, alright?” he says. It’s said warmly, but there's something serious to it. An undertone. “Our job is to help out wherever we can, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Rei tries for a smile. “Understood.”  

Lance nods, and looks Rei up and down, though it's only a subtle flicker of his eyes. His gaze lingers on the scarf at Rei’s neck, which Rei realises he’s been fidgeting with unconsciously. He lets go with faint embarrassment, feeling caught out. 

The other man sighs. “You can go, you know?” There’s resignation in his voice. Maybe even something apologetic. In that moment, he seems more like Kamado than ever.

Rei doesn’t want to turn his back to him, but he wants to be here even less. So he nods, stiffly, and turns himself around, continuing the dark walk through the tunnel and out the stadium at a steady pace.

He doesn’t run.  

(But his hand hovers by his satchel, where Decidueye's Pokeball rests.)

It’s only when he’s walked for a good while, out into the harsh sunlight, through the town outskirts and to a more forested spot, that the tension drains from him. He sits at the base of a large tree, feeling a little lightheaded.

That was… an interrogation, to put it bluntly. And he can’t really fault Lance for it. To anyone, he's sure, his actions are confusing at best.

Unfortunately, he’s found that he’s less than clear headed when it comes to Volo. He turns over Lance’s final words. That friend of yours. It’s not surprising Lance phrased it that way; everything Rei had said had been carefully woven to lead him to that conclusion.

Except it hadn’t been misdirection, not fully. He does still think of Volo as his friend, despite everything.

He slumps backwards, against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark dig against the base of his skull. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Apparently, one of the worst days of his life isn’t enough to uproot over a year of growing camaraderie and budding friendship. Too many memories knot together, a stubborn tangle impossible to pick apart. He’s tried not to think about them too hard, but they tighten their hold once again, from where they lay dormant and buried.

Many of them have been forcibly recontextualised. He’s second guessed every helpful gift, every directly admiring word, every coincidental and fortunate appearance, as something deliberate and cultivated. But some of it, it seems, doesn't fit so neatly with that singular goal.

One day, they’d watched Togepi use Metronome for an hour, ostensibly for Rei’s surveying purposes. Important documentation of a seemingly random phenomenon, and all that. In actuality, they laughed the entire time, with no useful or coherent records to speak of, as the results became all the more improbable. 

They’d camped together, those last months, as the search for the Plates got wilder and more exciting. He knows Volo’s favoured way to build a camp-fire, and how he wakes up unreasonably early in the morning, and that he prefers sweet foods over savoury, unlike Rei himself. A hundred mundane familiarities shared, taking root in fallow ground.

Once, Volo had been his only friend in the entire world.

Is it surprising, then, that he can’t lay this friendship to rest so easily?

He wonders what it means, that the hand offered to him at his lowest point was the same one that always meant to drag him back down. And what it means that he still wants to reach for it.

Had any real feelings been sowed there, on Volo’s part? Or was the entire thing a carefully constructed weaving, an intricate field of grass knots laid around Rei, ready to catch him in their snare? 

He can’t quite strangle the hope that something of their friendship still exists, even if neglected and overgrown. And that’s the part that scares him.

He has Akari, and Adaman, and Irida. He has Professor Laventon and the Captain, though they’re far away. Then there’s the Wardens, more friendly faces: Mai, Sabi, Ingo, and all the others; there's Zisu and Pesselle and Beauregard and everyone else in Jubilife. New friends here on Pasio, too. 

He pulls out Decidueye’s Pokeball from his satchel, and rolls it around in his right hand. He has his beloved Starter.

He has friends. He has bonds.

Why can’t that be enough?

The Pokeball he’s holding isn't the original. He'd had to break that well-loved possession in two, and recapture Decidueye in this modern device. It's a distant echo of its predecessor, wooden grooves and clunky iron replaced by smooth metal and near imperceptible seams. The weight of it is all wrong. 

But despite that, it's still his partner, and that's what matters.

(The two broken halves sit in his satchel, too, carried on his person at all times. It's yet another thing he can't bring himself to let go of.)

He sighs, tracing formless shapes in the dirt. His hand finds one of the sparse clumps of grass that grow here, directly under this wide and mighty tree. Deprived of proper sun, it’s a miracle that there’s any at all. 

It seems more and more likely that he’ll end up looking for Volo on his own. To get answers: not only about the stones, and the tournament, and Volo’s intentions with Arceus, but also for his own ends. 

Maybe there’s still something there. A single glimpse of life in this scorched earth between them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then.

Where he sits, what little grass there is has grown long and ragged, as their leaves stretch and reach for the sun. He sets Decidueye’s ball down and plucks two long blades. With a few simple loops and twists, they’re deftly woven together into a knot. He considers it, looping it around his fingers; tightens it, pulling on both ends, until he can feel the entire construct threaten to snap from the force. He stops. 

The thing is, no matter if it was never meant to be real, deliberately sowed, intended ultimately for harvest — it’s all the same, to Rei. He wants to keep it alive. He’s hopeful. Naive. Selfish.

For a single, impossible moment, he wonders whether this is what Arceus meant by bonds all along. 

The knot goes in his satchel, where it will turn dry and brittle with time. But kept safe, unbroken, regardless. Maybe his future self will laugh at his sentimentality. Maybe, he won't remember why it’s there. 

Wouldn't that be for the best?

He tucks Decidueye’s ball away, with care, then hauls himself up, both hands braced against the dusty ground. There’s dirt under his fingernails. From under the tree’s darkened canopy, he squints into the afternoon sunlight.

There’s a lot that needs to be done. He needs to train for this tournament, for one. Learn more about modern battling. Pull together a team. With that, ask Akari, and perhaps Adaman or Irida. Confront Volo, somewhere in all of this. 

After that? Only Arceus knows.

One step at a time. 

He finds his footing, around gnarled roots. The grass crunches underfoot. And he steps into the light.

(So maybe I was just snared by the grass knots you laid in my path. But if I wove my own, would you fall for it too?)

[necrotic-nephilim]

Do you have any more ideas about the dead dove vampire!dickxtim au you wrote a while ago? It's lived in my head ever since and I'd love to know more.

first of all thank you so much that's so sweet! second of all, i have SO many ideas you have no idea. that fic ate at my brain for like a month before i found the time to write it so i had plenty of ideas i didn't fully explore. i'm adding a read more just bc. that was one of my more fucked up fics so i don't want to subject anyone to a necro kink jumpscare

so one of the big ideas i've thought about with that fic is Tim dealing with the aftermath of it, right. bc he's of course going to hide it from everyone. the Batfam all just neds to hold onto the hope that they can save Dick somehow, and knowing what Dick did would kill any lingering hope that there's anything left of Dick Grayson in the walking husk that he's become. so Tim has to deal with the worst of it alone, probably not even mentioning he ran into Dick.

the fun part tho is that above everything else, Tim wouldn't be able to let go of Dick's comment about fantasizing about Tim before being a vampire. Tim knows the comment was made just to get in his head, but that doesn't stop it from working. he spends hours pouring over old footage of him and Dick training, hanging out, on patrol, anything he can find. just to like. try to find evidence of Dick's gaze lingering. it eats Tim alive not knowing one way or the other if it was a lie. if it's true, at least it makes it easier for Tim to move on from the memory of Dick. but not knowing is worse. and he never finds anything that satiates the question so like. that'd destroy Tim the most. (the real answer is that Dick genuinely didn't feel attraction to Tim before being a vampire, *but* Dick is convinced he did bc being a vampire fucked him up so badly that he's become his own unreliable narrator. so it's both true and untrue, and in the end, it doesn't matter either way bc Tim is fucked up by the thought of it and even if they "fixed" Dick by curing him, i think Dick's romantic feelings would linger in the horror of what he did.)

i'm really just. in love with Dick's feelings toward Tim in the fic. the most difficult part of the fic was figuring out how to end it, bc sure as a sexual fantasy Dick is obsessed with killing Tim, but he's also deeply in love with Tim, so it's difficult to follow through on. Dick wants to make Tim a vampire more than anything, but he is genuinely worried about how well it'd take for Tim. the fic doesn't really go into who's on Dick's side as a vampire, but i personally believe he's turned most of the Titans. probably some of his own rogues as well, i could see him turning Slade. i can't explain why, those are just the vibes.

it is important to me just how much of Dick's feelings for Tim are based in him not wanting Tim to live under Bruce's thumb. like the whole vampire brain has convinced Dick that Bruce is somehow the villain in this, and it was Bruce's control keeping Dick from being the person he wanted to be. it's a very warped reality and if i continued the fic i'd love for the second part to be from Dick's perspective just to have fun with the unreliable narrator of it.

back to the porn tho. Dick would seek TIm out again. probably in Tim's own apartment, just bc he wants to destroy every safe space Tim has. getting into Tim's head is an important part of breaking TIm down. the fear of Tim fighting back against being a vampire is one that Dick is trying to figure out how to manage and his current plan is to break Tim mentally. it's why he brings up wanting to sleep with TIm before being a vampire. he *knows* it's gonna fuck up Tim. and the more he puts these little cracks in Tim's psyche, the more he's sure he's breaking Tim down enough to be able to turn him. so going to Tim's apartment and proving that at any point, Dick can easily find Tim and fuck him. always holding the threat of killing Tim over his head. and Dick knows Tim didn't tell anyone when days pass after their first meeting and no Bat comes after him so like. Dick really just pushes the limits. i think he would brand Tim just bc he can. i also got a comment on the fic that mentioned Dick stabbing Tim and fucking the wound and i canNOT get that image out of my head either-

and the necro/snuff kink just. Dick playing the long game, so it takes maybe months of stalking Tim, going after him. sometimes he fucks Tim, sometimes he just fights and taunts him. and all the talk about killing Tim fucks with Tim's head a little bit. i think it'd be fun if it killed Tim's ability to have vanilla/normal sex with someone else, like Kon. it's hard for Tim to understand anyone being attracted to him in a way that doesn't involve him being a dead body. i don't think he develops the kink fully, but he does end up convincing himself being a corpse is the only way he's attractive bc of all the things Dick has said to him. it all plays into Dick psychologically breaking Tim.

i am a lover of fucked up/unhappy endings so. for me. the ending would be Dick following through on his plan to kill Tim and turn him. it'd take months for Dick to work up the courage bc TIm was absolutely right when he pointed out that Dick was too scared to actually follow through on his fantasy. Dick tries, multiple times. he convinces himself no less than five times that this is going to be the one. this'll be the time he really does it. but just as Tim starts to die, Dick panics. i think it's especially fun if once Dick even gives Tim CPR bc of his cold feet. so Tim does "die" for a second and has to brutally come back while Dick is buried inside of him.

but when Dick does it, his fears manifest in that Tim does *not* take being a vampire well. he's constantly trying to kill himself (in the time it takes for Dick to break Tim, Tim probably does figure out what poison can kill a vampire) and Dick ends up having to keep Tim locked up so Tim doesn't kill himself. would truly love to try to write Tim as mentally shattered as possible. part of him loves Dick, but he's fighting himself so hard he's not even sure if it's the vampire side that loves Dick or the human side. he's kept like a human pet, bc Dick is convinced he'll get Tim to accept it sooner or later. just a very fun, very fucked up sort of ending. i say this about all the fics i write but this one specifically i do *really* want to continue someday. i know exactly the direction i'd take it, and it could turn into a pretty long fic with a lot of fucked up porn, a lot of unrequited love, and an eventual mind break for Tim.