#extremely low effort i am sorry

[ameliadoesstuff]

obligatory October 3rd moment. happy official release day!

[michaellangdonswhore]

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

[paigesfuturewifey]

authors note! IM SORRY FOR BEING MIA college was kicking my ass (still is) and i’m trying my hardest not to crash out but here is an angsty fic :D

this is also heavily inspired by she wouldn’t be gone by blake shelton IK IK country music sue me it is unfortunately part of my roots so yes here she is

“i’m sick of this caitlin!”

you two had been going back and forth for a while about this, both too stubborn to admit who was in the right and who was in the wrong.

it’d been two months since caitlin went first pick in the wnba draft. two months of caitlin continuously forgetting about your date nights, two months of caitlin lagging hours on end and then eventually responding to your messages with one word replies, two months of wondering if caitlin would be home from practice at a decent hour or if you’d go to sleep in a cold, empty bed.

two. fucking. months.

of course, you understood the fact that caitlin’s job required almost all of her undivided attention and you were extremely proud of her and all her accomplishments.

but being second priority to her job was taking a toll on your mental health.

you were tired of being alone all the time. the sacrifices you made, picking up everything and moving to indiana with caitlin to be with her, felt pretty fruitless when you had barely seen her in your own apartment.

caitlin’s response came low at first as she rubbed her temples, “what do you want me to do?” and then she repeated it louder, throwing her arms up in frustration, “what do you want me to do?!”

“i want you to be here! you’re never here anymore, caitlin! i’m alone ALL THE TIME now!”

“that’s not fair. i’m doing this for us! for— for you!”

you shook your head, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “no. no. not for me. this is what you wanted! you wanted this! i didn’t—“

“i didn’t ask you to move to indiana with me!”

the statement felt like a slap to the face. caitlin, of all people, knew how hard of a decision it was to move to indiana. to be away from your family. your sister, your parents.

caitlin never pressured you into it, of course. she was insistent that if you had decided to stay in iowa, you’d make long distance work. but when you ultimately decided to stay with, whom you thought was the love of your life, caitlin couldn’t of been more happier.

the two of your popped a bottle of champagne in celebration and spent the night talking, laughing, planning your futures together.

a bittersweet memory that seemed so distant at the moment.

as you narrowed your eyes, you felt a tear roll down your cheek, followed by three or two more. “you know what, caitlin? you’re right. you didn’t ask. but it was a sacrifice i was willing to make for you!”

“you’re not the only one making sacrifices—“

the mere start of the sentence had you letting out a laugh, putting your hands behind your head as you paced back and forth. “you’re not listening.”

“i am listening—“

“no! you’re hearing me but you’re not listening to me!”

silence fell upon the two of you, both contemplating your next words because you both knew you guys were pretty close to crossing lines that couldn’t be uncrossed.

you placed your hands on the counter, leaning on it while hanging your head low, letting the tears drop onto the floor. “i can’t do this anymore,” you finally let out in a small whisper, but it hit caitlin in the gut. “i don’t want a life where i spend more time waiting for you than being with you.”

“you don’t mean that. please baby, stop.” caitlin’s warm hands were suddenly around your waist, leaning her head on your shoulder and kissing softly. “let’s just go to bed, yeah? i promise, i promise things will be different, okay? i’ll make more of an effort. i’ll try and get home on time for dinner. i know things aren’t easy right now, but i can’t lose you. we’ll figure it out, i’ll— i’ll try harder. okay?”

but even when those words eased your mind a little, you both knew the promise wouldn’t be kept.

so it wasn’t really a shock to you when you sat at the dinner table, candles lit and your meal sitting in front of you with the empty chair across from you.

you cooked caitlin’s favorite meal, wore her favorite set underneath your clothes that was her favorite color. you looked at the clock, and when it read 10:30, you scoffed.

you were fed up. you were well over your boiling point.

and, so, when caitlin entered your guys’ apartment at midnight, her heart ached a little at the sight of your untouched meals at the table, and candle she assumed was lit at one point.

she rubbed a hand over her face, quickly walking to your shared room. then she froze in her spot.

your side of the room was empty. from your nightstand being stripped of its decorations, to your side of the closet being completely empty.

the suitcases you used for when you guys planned vacations were gone. along her your toothbrush, makeup, hair products, basically everything that made your shared apartment shared was gone.

caitlin wasted no time picking up her phone and clicking your contact, holding the phone to her ear. she anxiously waited, suddenly feeling as if her whole life was falling apart.

voicemail. she tried seven more times. all went straight to voicemail.

her mind immediately went straight to denial, there was no way you picked up and left, right? you always said you would, but caitlin never believed you. never truly believed you.

or maybe she just didn’t listen to you.

she snatched her keys from the table, leaving the apartment and shutting the door loudly behind her. she bet all her money that her neighbors hated her.

that’s how she ended up in her car, speeding down the highway on a rainy night, frantically calling all of your shared friends.

she started with your mom, driving down the road at 90 miles an hour and switching lanes like an absolute maniac. she’d gotten honked at at least four times already.

“caitlin.” your mom greeted, though judging by her cold and and distant tone, and her use of caitlin’s full name instead of cait, caitlin could tell the news had no doubt got back to her.

“do you know where she is, mrs. l/n?” her question came right off the bat, figuring she had no time to waste in finding you.

your mom’s answer was quiet. and caitlin learned your families habits quickly enough to know that when she went quiet, she was lying. “please—“

“i’m afraid i can’t speak with you now, goodbye caitlin.”

then the line went dead.

with her left hand on the steering wheel, she punched the middle with her right and threw her head back.

her next call was kate because you three all had been very close throughout your iowa college years. kate always understood you in a way that made caitlin jealous.

and for a while, she she was a topic of argument in your relationship because caitlin constantly needed reassurance that she was the one you wanted.

there was clearly a rift in caitlin and kate’s friendship after, but after the move to indiana, they seemed to be mending their friendship. until now.

kate answered on the first ring with a hard question. “what’d you do, clark?”

“kate, i— i fucked up. she’s gone. i don’t know where she went. her stuff’s gone, her clothes are gone, she’s gone.”

“damn it, caitlin. you always do this shit— you drove her away, again.“

“do you know where she is?” caitlin demanded, arriving to her first destination.

“no.”

“you’re lying.”

“no i’m not—“

“i should’ve figured you wouldn’t help me find her. you’ve always been pathetically in love with her, ever since college.” caitlin scoffed out bitterly.

“caitlin—“

“know what? no. you’ve always been on her side, since day one. i can’t even do this right now—“

“you’re frustrated with yourself, about driving y/n away, so your picking a fight with me.” kate spoke calmly, fueling caitlin’s anger.

“don’t fucking psycho analyze me, right now martin.” with that she abruptly ended the call, getting out of the car and walking into the ice cream shop the both of you loved dearly.

after that, she went to your favorite coffee shop, after that, nalyssa’s apartment, then aliyah’s, then the hotel near your apartment.

she held her face in her hands, finally letting the sobs ripple through her. she suddenly realized how under appreciated your voice was. she was forgetting how sweet it was, how beautiful it was when you hummed her to sleep.

she was forgetting your voice already.

and she realized that she should’ve fought harder. should’ve told you how much she loved you, cherished you, needed you.

maybe, just maybe, if she had done that, you wouldn’t be gone.

safe to say caitlin didn’t find you that night, and no one told her where you might’ve went.

[valorant-drabbles]

Hallo! I'm the one who requested the iso x reader from last time （＾ｖ＾）

I was wondering if you could make a part two showing how they slowly progressed with each other if it's alright since I really loved the first part and I'm brain rotting hard about Iso

PS - I'll go by ♠️spade anon from now on

Not me accidentally creating a multi-part slow burn Iso fic!! Oh boy

Could be seen as platonic or romantic… but if people want a part 3, it’ll definitely be more romantic.

Gender neutral reader!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mild Cursing, Spoiler for Part 1 of this fic

Cold Shoulder

Reader x Iso

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

It had been about three weeks since the incident; since you and Iso had your little quarrel, and inevitably having started to understand one another. It was definitely a challenge for you, since you’d struggled for years when it came to getting along with people outside of work hours. Thankfully, Iso was proving to be extremely patient and courteous towards you and your growth. That wasn’t to say he didn’t get irritated every so often if he noticed you slipping back into your old, cold habits…

But you were making a genuine effort. What more could he ask for?

Despite it only having been a few weeks, you and Iso had started getting along quite quickly. He’d made it clear that you were always welcome to join him if you were feeling lonely- and considering your friend quantity in the Protocol was quite low, you were finding yourself ‘lonely’ often. It was strange- last month, you were completely fine being on your own. And now, if you went a few days without a casual conversation with somebody… you felt an odd emptiness inside your chest. A yearning for connection that you’d thought you’d severed long ago.

There were many days where Iso would return to his room after training to find you sat on his bed, listening to the playlist he’d shared with you. Usually you were reading, or watching movies on your laptop… passing the time until he’d return and possibly join you. Iso knew you had a bit of trouble asking to spend time together, so when you were in his room- it was kind of obvious why you were there. Once he’d shower and change clothes, he’d settle into bed and join you in whatever you were doing.

Overtime, this became routine. On days neither of you had a mission, you’d spend time together in the comfort of Iso’s room… quietly bonding, occasionally starting conversations- though usually it was Iso initiating. After all, even after all this time, he still found you to be absolutely fascinating, and desired to learn more about you.

“What do you think we learn from fighting ourselves?” Iso’s voice cut through the current silence filling the bedroom, causing you to look up from your book, eyebrow raised curiously at the sudden query.

“… what?”

“Ah- sorry. That came from nowhere.” Iso apologized quietly, his gaze sheepishly moving away from where you were watching him. “I was just… thinking about our mirror selves. From Omega Earth. How they look and act almost exactly like us- and our teammates as well.”

“Mhm. What about them, though?” You questioned further, noticing Iso shift in his seat.

“I’ve… had this question on my mind ever since I saw myself on the other team. ‘What do we learn from fighting ourselves?’… I’ve asked a few of the others, but… honestly, none of them had an answer I was looking for.” Iso grimaced softly at the memory of him asking Phoenix this question, only for the Brit to cockily answer ‘How much better I am compared to that fake me!’.

You took a moment to ponder his question. This was something you genuinely appreciated about spending time with Iso- he posed questions that made you think. Nothing too philosophical, usually… but it kept conversations interesting, and additionally helped the two of you learn more about how the other thinks.

“I guess… we learn our weaknesses.” You answer after about a minute of silence. “Though it’s not ideal… there’s certain circumstances where our double will be better than us at something. It’ll reveal a weak point in our abilities… and give us something to work towards improving. Alternatively, we learn the weakness of our double, and how to potentially exploit it if need be.” Your shoulders shrugged slightly, as you bit gently at the end of the pen in your hand. “It can also help us to… uh…”

Your hesitance to speak further piques Iso’s curiosity, and his gaze moves to you. He can’t help but notice your cheeks glowing a faint shade of red. You seldom showed emotion like this… allowing yourself to be embarrassed or even revealing a moment of weakness. Despite his desire to urge you into finishing your thought, he knew pushing you to answer would just make you uncomfortable. And, there was the possibility it could cause you to throw out your walls again, giving him the cold shoulder again- he couldn’t risk that. So, he waited.

As much as you wanted to change the topic or just… leave the thought unfinished, Iso’s eyes on you made it clear that he really wanted to know what you were thinking.

“Y/N?” Iso called out quietly. A sigh escaped you reluctantly, as you turned your body to face away from him slightly- only so that he would have trouble seeing how flushed your face had become.

“It… it also helps us to… see what we couldn’t see before. In our own teammates.” You finally continue, deciding to occupy your twitching hands with twirling your pen between your fingers. “How much our team would do to… to protect us. In the face of danger. The threat of death is always so real when you know the enemy won’t hesitate to kill you… sometimes you forget how dangerous it can be. How quickly you can lose somebody. And… how… if a teammate dies, you might go about the rest of your life… regretting that you never got to know them better. Or you might die with the same regret…” You swallow.

You thought back on the day you nearly died at Pearl almost every day. It all felt so surreal… the rush of emotion you felt when you saw Iso in danger? The searing pain from the bullets that had pierced your body?… the last thing you see being Iso using your Operator to take down the approaching threats…

His words echoing constantly in your mind.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Y/N.”

You’d always been so cold towards him… never giving him any reason to like your company. And yet… Iso risked his own life to save yours. With no hesitation.

“Y/N.” It was only after feeling Iso’s hand on your own that you realized he’d been calling your name. His voice was gentle, worry lacing the elegance he spoke your name with. His gaze on you was equally as concerned. It was only in that moment, seeing your own reflection in his eyes, where you notice you’d started crying.

“Shit.” You pull your hand away from Iso’s, and quickly moved to wipe your face of any tears that may had fallen. This was… new. You never let such fragile emotions show in front of the other agents… you only ever let out your piled up emotions behind closed doors, where nobody could see. Where nobody could know. “Sorry, I don’t… know why I’m crying. Can you just forget I said any of that?” You requested, though your voice wavered as you spoke, making you cringe internally. Were you truly so emotional when you thought back on that day…?

Without another word, you found yourself being pulled into Iso’s lap, his arms wrapped around you comfortingly, yet not intrusively. Physical contact wasn’t something you were used to either, but… in that moment? It felt… incredible. You needed this… so badly. For how long you’d needed it for, you didn’t know. You just knew you never wanted this moment to end- as soft as that sounded.

“I’m… not going to let either of us die with that regret.” Iso promised ever so softly, with his head resting comfortably against your shoulder. “And believe me, I don’t intend on dying anytime soon. So you don’t have to worry to much about missed opportunities to… get to know each other. And stuff.”

You kept your face hidden away from Iso; thankful he wasn’t making an effort to look regardless. You felt incredibly vulnerable in that moment… so you truly appreciated that Iso was making the effort to give you some level of privacy. At least as you attempted to pull yourself together again.

“I… I’m glad that… you didn’t give up on me.” You mumble gently against his chest. “… even though I was kind of an asshole to you.”

“Oh, no. You were a total asshole.” Iso chimed. You could just hear the grin on his face through his voice. It made you want to strangle him… not to death, per se.

“… besides. There’s no way I’d give up on someone as… incredible as you.”

Iso’s hand managed to find yours once again, and slowly, gently, you found your fingers intertwining with his without even thinking about it. The previously jarring silence in the room had been replaced with an air of comfortable quiet, as the two of you sat in each other’s company.

You never thought you’d have this thought towards another agent… but…

You really did enjoy Iso’s company. To what extent?… You were unsure.

Yet you enjoyed it regardless.

[melanieph321]

Do you have any Josko Gvardiol fanfic coming soon

Of course!

10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 5)

Joško Gvardiol - Not Romantic

+18

Summary - Reader wants Joško to be more romantic. Unfortunately, he listens to her.

Enjoy 💞

He wasn't the date night kind. Nor the surprise you with flowers kind. Joško was simply the hug you from behind kind while whispering filthy promises in your ear. But would it really kill him to be a tad more romantic?

"Yes." He answered.

"It would?"

The two of you were just about to go to bed after yet another hectic day, making the timing of your question utterly bizarre to Joško.

"Y/N, what does it even mean to be romantic? Am I not romantic?"

"No Joško, you are not. Slapping me in the ass in the grocery store a mids the dry goods, does not count for romance. I want flowers and perhaps a more gentle approach to our love and affection for one another. Is that too much to ask for?"

Joško seemed puzzled, his bushy eyebrows low on his forhead. "So you want me to be gentle....in bed?"

"Ugh!" You sighed, roughly uncovering the duvet, tucking yourself into bed.

"Oh, come on baby. Don't be like that." Joško went on to dim the lights in your room before joining you in bed. He reached for you under the covers, however you refused him by shifting to lay on your side.

"If romance is too much of an ask and effort for you, I don't really see the point with us being together."

Joško stiffened with your words, the silence that followed a bit nerve-wracking. However, you stood your ground and fell asleep convinced that this was the necessary change that would sustain your relationship.

The next morning you woke up in bed alone. Joško had left for an early training session, however, his early endearments still tickled your ear. "I'm sorry that I'm not enough for you. But don't worry, I'll show you."

It broke your heart that your argument last night resulted in Joško feeling like he wasn't enough for you. That was never your case in point. You were just demanding a bit more sensual awareness from your boyfriend. What else could you have said that would've made him understand?

"Babe, I'm home."

"Joško?"

A whole day had gone by since you last saw your boyfriend, and being off from work definitely didn't mend your anxious mind. You spent the day cleaning your apartment while waiting for him to come home. Seeing Joško standing in the door, flowers in one hand and takeout in the other, instantly melted your heart.

"Oh, baby. Are those for me?" You approached him where he stood, accepting the flowers that were handed to you.

"You told me to be more romantic, didn't you?" He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. However, a deep growl escaped his mouth as the kiss naturally deepend.

It took Joško everything not to escalate the situation by stripping you of your clothes right then and there.

"Dinner." He drunkenly rumbled, dragging his nose along the skin of your collarbone. "It might get cold."

"Right, dinner." You were slurring on your words, perhaps as infatuated by your boyfriend, who set his pride aside to give you what you wanted.

It turned you on.

Extremely.

"So, how was your day?" You asked, happy to sit across from him, the man of your dreams, sharing takeout dinner from that Croatian restaurant that you both loved.

"It was good baby. How was yours?"

"Good, just good."

"Great." Joško chuckled, returning to the plate on his food.

It dawned on you as silence fell, that your heart was beating fast and your palms were turning clammy with sweat. A fever, first came to your mind. However, as Joško got up to clear your plates, you sat back and watched how his muscles worked when he gloved up to scrub the dishes. His biceps swelled with every movement, slowly fueling your not so romantic thoughts.

"Baby?"

Strucked by how horny you were, you shook your head in hopes of calming your filthy mind that told you to fall down onto your knees and please your man. "Yes, honey?"

"I'm gonna take a quick shower. Do you wanna watch a movie when I return?"

"Erm, sure. Yes. A movie sounds great."

"Great. Pick whatever movie you want." He winked, disappearing into the bathroom.

You fanned yourself at the thought of him naked in a shower. Without you. "God, Y/N. Get yourself together." You were acting like a timid school girl. After the arguments of last night, here you were ready to beg Joško to run you over like a locomotive.

No.

You had to remain resolute. If Joško could make tonight about romance, so could you.

While your boyfriend kept busy in the bathroom you took it upon yourself to light some candles, pop some popcorn and set up the living room for a cozy movie night.

Just as you returned from the kitchen, Joško stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

"Good, you're ready." You said, setting down the bowl of popcorn.

"I am." He smiled. "Are you?"

"Me?" You followed his gaze set on your body, realizing that Joško was referring to your not so cozy clothes. "Oh, right. I'll be right back."

By the time you returned to the living room, wearing a sweater and shorts, Joško lay on the couch, legs spread and the remote weighing in his hand.

"Are you ready for a movie night?" You smiled.

Joško's arm slumped at the sight of you, his eyes wondering freely to your braless chest and your low cut shorts. By now he should have commented on how hot you looked, or how he wanted you to sit on is lap. Face, if he was feeling kinky. However, Joško said nothing, innocently beaming at you with those dark eyes. "Ready." He smiled, inviting you to join him on the couch. You did so, snuggling up to his warm body where you eventually fell asleep as Batman fought the Joker on TV.

You woke up towards the end of the movie, however, Joško's grainy voice whispering in your ear. "I hope you liked the flowers."

"Mmm. I did baby. I really did." You hymnd. "Remind me to put them in water before we go to bed."

"No need." He said, his hand slowly traveling up and down your back. "I already did it for you."

Your eyes peered open, meeting your boyfriend's loving eyes. His gentle gaze that had no desire to fuck you sensless on this very couch.

God, what have you done to your man.

"Joško?" You raised your head from his shoulder.

"Yes, baby?"

You were lost for words. He was perfect. The man of your dreams. A curly haired beast. He was perfect just the way he was, romantic or not. "I love you." You squealed.

Joško's gaze softened, his eyes searching your face. "I love you too."

"Please, fuck me." You sighed. "Hard, not gentle."

He grinned. "As you wish baby. As you..."

He didn't get to finish that sentence. You were all over his ass before he could open his mouth and utter another word.

You got flipped to lay on your back, Joško's hands roaming freely under your sweater. Your chest arched into his open palms. A loud moan escaping your mouth as Joško went to nibble your ear with a nip of his tounge, the smell of him uncovering your desire for his body, his cock, that should be deep in your mouth by now.

"Calm down baby." He chuckled roughly. "Don't you want me to take my time with you? To be gentle?"

"Fuck, no."

Joško's laughter drummed in your ear. He then lowered himself so that his head was set between your legs.

Your body stirred below him, eager for his hands to get rid of your shorts. Joško did so with the most taunting of smiles, licking his lips once he discovered that you weren't anything underneath, making this so called romance easy for him.

"Fuck Y/N, you taste amazing."

"I do?"

You watched him dip his head back between your legs, tasting you in a way that contracted every muscle in your belly. Your head fell back with the way his tounge circle your clit, playfully yet eager.

"Mmm. So fucking delicious." He groaned, his hands squeezing your ass, raising your hips towards his gaping mouth.

"God, Joško."

It was unbearable.

He was unbearable.

Unbearably romantic in his own way.

As Joško continued to drain you of your senses of the world, you came to the conclusion that romance was indeed an important part of a healthy and sustainable relationship. Your relationship, however, was fine just the way it was, with your boyfriend knowing just the right way to please you.

DON'T MISS - 10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 1)

(DAY 2)

(DAY 3)

(DAY 4)

[terramythos]

I Score FFXIV Fishing Titles (based on how fucking cool or fun they sound).

Note: I am NOT including titles that you can earn on any Disciple of the Hand job; this is only for titles you HAVE to be a fisher in order to earn. Also, sorry if I missed any of them LMAO.

FISHER NATION... there's way more fishing titles than I thought, so grab your rod and get ready to cast! 🎣🎣🎣

‘Of the Irresistible Lure’, from “I Caught That VIII”- Catch and record discovery of 1,460 unique fish.

6/10. I mean this one is OK, any title that can drop ‘Irresistible’ in there has something going for it. It’s just not a compelling title to me when there’s so much cooler sounding shit to pick from. And if you’ve gotten this title, you for sure have access to those cooler ones.

‘Master Fisher’, from “The One That Didn’t Get Away IV” - Catch 10,000 large-sized fish.

3/10. Come the fuck on, man. At least in the English-speaking client, everyone is going to be thinking about “Master Baiter” and missed opportunities. Even without that context this one is pretty boring. And considering how fishing mechanics work, how does catching 10k large fish imply mastery of any sort? That’s probably the most boring achievement to get in fishing.

‘Meadowcaster’, from “A Fisher’s Life for Me: La Noscea” - Obtain all five “Good Things Come to Those Who Bait: La Noscea” achievements.

8/10. This one is pretty good, and it’s one of the oldest fishing titles in the game. There’s two others that are very similar. The use of ‘caster’ for fishing is funny, but also applicable for the combat part of the game. Unfortunately this and the other two are a huge grindy pain in the ass to get. ‘Meadow’ is a little dull to me though.

‘Forestcaster’, from “A Fisher’s Life for Me: Black Shroud” - Obtain all five “Good Things Come to Those Who Bait: Black Shroud” achievements.

7/10. I don’t think “Forestcaster” rolls off the tongue as well as the other two achievements. Kind of boring if I’m being fully honest, but I’m sure there are characters who can use this title to great effect.

‘Desertcaster’, from “A Fisher’s Life for Me: Thanalan” - Obtain all five “Good Things Come to Those Who Bait: Thanalan” achievements.

10/10. This shit sounds so fucking cool to me, I might even actually get this title despite the grind. ‘Desert’ goes way harder than the other two from this achievement series, IMO.

‘Master Caster’, from “Go Big or Go Home IX” - Catch 100 different varieties of big fish in areas explored during A Realm Reborn, Heavensward, or Stormblood.

8/10. Master Fisher wishes it was this cool. The clever rhyme calls to mind FISHER NATION poetry, which helps this one a lot. The only reason it ranks so low is because….

‘Grandmaster Caster’, from “Go Big or Go Home IX” - Catch 204 different varieties of big fish in areas explored during A Realm Reborn, Heavensward, or Stormblood.

10/10. Automatically overshadows the previous entry, and for good reason: this one takes some real fuckin’ effort to get. I’m so happy to have finally gotten this title. It’s extremely funny to wear it when playing a ranged magical job. Also, ‘Grandmaster’ makes me feel like a chess champion or something.

‘Lord/Lady of Far Waters’, from “Go Big Far from Home V” - Catch 45 different varieties of big fish in areas explored during Shadowbringers.

11/10. God this one is so fucking cool we are hard-locked into this title for the forseeable future once I actually earn it (currently 43/45). I think this is my favorite fishing title? It’s so unique and powerful…. Nobody does it like her.

‘Big Fish’, from “No River Wide Enough” - Obtain the achievements “Go Big or Go Home XVI” and “Go Big Far From Home V”.

4/10. Can I be real with you. Whose idea was it to make the achievement for earning BOTH of its strong predecessors so fucking boring by comparison? This is definitely a flex title, but one I will not be wearing for more than like 20 seconds for some screenshots. This one gets points for reminding me of the movie of the same name, which was Pretty Good (TM).

‘Wavewalker’, from “Go Big Till the End” - Catch 40 different varieties of big fish in areas explored during Endwalker.

6/10. Listen, I get what this is going for. It’s a play on Endwalker. The thing is, Wavewalker just doesn’t evoke anything special to me. I think of regular surfing. I think of weird new-age crystal people projecting onto the astral plane, but in the most boring pseudoscientific way possible. I think about some kind of maneuver the audience might do during a concert. Just kind of mundane to me.

‘The Final Fish’, from “Fish Fear Me” - Obtain the achievements “No River Wide Enough” and “Go Big Till the End III.”

7/10. The sequel to ‘Big Fish’ sucks a little bit less, but it’s still not super special to me. I might wear this one a little longer when I get it. At least we have a play on Final Fantasy with this one. I would feel less boring wearing this one than some of the other entries on this list. To be honest I think "Fish Fear Me" would have been a cooler title instead of making that the achievement name.

‘Rod of the Firmament’, from “Skyward Rod III” - Earn 500,000 points toward your skyward score as a fisher.

8/10. You can make so many dick jokes with this one. A solid (heh) title, no notes, we appreciate this.

‘The Nest’s Own Fisher’, from “The Height of Angling” - As a fisher, submit 300 artisanal seafood items for the second phase of the Ishgardian restoration.

3/10. Man what is this even going for? The only real connection that comes to mind is a fishing bird or something. How do I use this? It gets a couple points for novelty since it’s unlike other fishing titles, but that’s it. Especially considering the next one does it better.

‘Featherfall’s Finest Fisher’, from “Fishers of a Feather” - As a fisher, submit 300 artisanal seafood items for the third phase of the Ishgardian restoration.

7/10. We’re getting somewhere with this one; we got the alliteration going, ‘Featherfall’ sounds cool as fuck. Probably not a title I’d use but it’s way more appealing than the previous.

‘The Risensung Fisher’, from “An Ode to Angling” - As a fisher, submit 300 artisanal seafood items for the fourth phase of the Ishgardian restoration.

5/10. Aaaand back down again. I know it’s a play on Dragonsong but “Risensung” just sounds awkward to me. It just does not work for me, too awkward and weird. But at least it’s better than the first of these.

‘World-class Troller’, from “On a Boat V” - Earn a cumulative total of 3,000,000 points while ocean fishing.

9/10. This title is perfect for silly little geese who do a little bit of trolling now and then. What kind of trolling? Well, that is simply for you to decide…. I knock off a point because this doesn’t scream ‘fishing title’ to me. But it IS a fun title nevertheless.

‘Ocean Fisher’, from “No More Fish in the Sea III” - Score at least 16,000 points during a single ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

4/10. Yaaaawn. It’s giving ‘Master Fisher’ energy. At least this one makes me think of the ocean and not Master Baiting. But man what a generic title. Who gives a shit. Why would this be your pick ever?

‘Master of the Sea’, from “No More Fish in the Sea IV” - Score at least 20,000 points during a single ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

9/10. WAY better than its predecessor. It’s not quite ‘Lord of Far Waters’ but it scratches a similar itch to me. There’s so many cool ways to use this one in terms of character, glam, etc. A strong pick for sure.

‘Doom of the Deep’, from “Near, Far, Wherever Fish Are III” - Score at least 16,000 points during a single ocean fishing voyage on the Ruby route.

10/10. Cool as FUCK. Very little can stand up to this one. The alliteration, etc… it’s so foreboding and badass. My only complaint is it’s a little too easy to get for such a cool title, IMO… but that doesn’t hurt it in the rankings.

‘Octopus Traveler’, from “What Did Octopodes Do to You?” - Earn the “Octopus Travelers” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

8/10. Octopath Traveler gamers probably love this one. I guess it’s a little funny since that’s also a Square Enix property. I’m mostly giving it an 8 out of a sense of obligation considering. Also, octopodes are cool as fuck.

‘Shark Hunter’, from “What Did Sharks Do to You?” - Earn the “Certifiable Shark Hunters” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

1/10. Shark hunting sucks IRL and I hate that this reminds me of that :( A sad title. Maybe you can make it work for a really elaborate Jaws cosplay but that’s stretching it.

‘Jellyfish Fanatic’, from “What Did Jellyfish Do to You?” - Earn the “Jelled Together” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

6/10. This probably goes hard for jellyfish fans. IDK, I think jellyfish are fine, pretty cool organisms, but I wouldn’t personally consider myself a fanatic, so I don’t really get it.

‘Sea Dragoon’, from “What Did Seadragons Do to You?” - Earn the “Maritime Dragonslayers” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

7/10. Big title if you’re a Dragoon main— it’s a fun pun and everything. But also I feel there are cooler Dragoon titles to pick from, even a cooler fishing one, so it’s a little mediocre. It’s fine, whatever.

‘Balloon Catcher’, from “What Did Balloons Do to You?” - Earn the “Balloon Catchers” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

2/10. Balloon Catcher. Balloon Catcher? This is dire. This is bad. Keep this one away from me. Anti-cool if I’m being fully honest. Balloon Catcher… at least it’s not Shark Hunter, I suppose.

‘Deadliest Catcher’, from “What Did Crabs Do to You?” - Earn the “Crab Boat Crew” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

8/10. Like, the title itself is fine, pretty good even, but it does not scream “fisher” to me in a way that matters. I know it’s a play on The Deadliest Catch, but it simply doesn’t wow me. It does score pretty high for general badassery.

‘Manta Maniac’, from “What Did Mantas Do to You?” - Earn the “Sticking it to the Manta” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

7/10. This is super similar to Jellyfish Fanatic, but this gets an extra point for the alliteration. I also personally like manta rays more than jellyfish. Sorry, jellyfish fans.

‘Sea Comber’, from “What Did Shellfish Do to You?” - Earn the “Maximum Mussel” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Ruby route.

2/10. Bro this suuuuucks. We’re fuckin’ combing? Inherently it’s not as bad as fucking ‘Balloon Catcher’, but it scores the same because HOW COULD YOU NOT DO A PLAY ON SHELLFISH/SELFISH FOR THIS. Fuck you. This sucks ass.

‘Squidzure Dragoon’, from “What Did Squid Do to You?” - Earn the “Squid Squadron” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Ruby route.

9/10. Definitely the cooler Dragoon fishing title (it’s weird it happened twice). Absolutely brilliant pun, and it’s an iconic enough play on ‘Azure Dragoon’ that people will recognize it from the main story. No notes, great title.

‘Shrimp Mariner’, from “What Did Shrimp Do to You?” - Earn the “Shrimp Smorgasbord” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Ruby route.

3/10. And back to the depths. What are we even going for here? This is stupid. There’s nothing cool about this. At least it’s a little more fishing related, I guess? I hate it less than the other 2s? Not a vote of confidence, I’ll say.

‘Otherworld Angler’, from “Live Long and Prospero” - Complete the quest “Morsel of the Deep.”

8/10. The poor man’s ‘Lord of Far Waters’. It’s a cool title and inherently provides the context behind it, which is impressive. It’s from Shadowbringers, after all. If you don’t have other cool fishing titles at your disposal, this is a pretty easy one to get. But as someone with cooler titles, this isn’t one I’ll be using.

‘Erudite Angler’, from “Sufficient Data” - Complete the quest “Pastures New.”

5/10. This is basically the Endwalker version of the previous title, and it doesn’t excite me. It’s just not as cool. I will say that this quest is basically the ‘this will negatively affect the trout population’ meme put into quest form. It’s hilarious and I recommend doing it. The title is just a mediocre reward for it.

‘Of Countless Catches’, from “Forever Fancy” - Complete the quest “An Odd Fish Odyssey.”

7/10. Love the alliteration on this one, which is the Dawntrail version of the previous two. I like that we angled away from Angler and into some new naming territory. To be honest, I think this should have been the title for the ‘Master Fisher’ achievement, but it is what it is.

‘The Ambitious Angler’, from “I Like Big Fish and I Cannot Lie” - Complete the quest “The Beast of Brewer’s Beacon.”

6/10. I didn’t even know this title existed??? I only found it scrolling through achievements. It’s just from a random ARR fishing side quest? Wild. Anyway this is fine. Maybe I’ll go get it. But there’s SO many cooler titles. This might be good for someone just starting their fishing journey.

[babaukulele]

Panic

Hawks almost faces his greatest fear, thank goodness your there to help him come back down to earth.

CW: anxiety, light disassociation, comfy happy ending. Hawks thinks he didn't save you in time. 

A/N this is an extremely self indulgent fic. Dissociation has been a long time  struggle for me and I sometimes project onto my comfort characters to see it from the outside and think about what would help. If you have similar struggles this is one of many methods that's helped me in the past. I can make a more detailed list of techniques later if could help anyone. 

Angst to fluff my darlings, not very proof read i’m sorry

1050 words.

He could feel his heartbeat racing. His body couldn't move although his mind continued to race. People were sprinting around and yelling. One of the sidekicks shook him by the sleeve, she could see the barely concealed panic in his golden eyes, his pupils thin slits. 

A building had fallen behind him. Your building. He had been a few blocks over, the sound of the apartments crashing simply mixed into the chaos of the attack. He had captured 10, saved hundreds that day from the destruction. Not that any of it mattered. His knees buckled, panic rose in his throat, his chest constricted. He forgot how to breathe. He staggered towards the rubble as the rescue efforts continued. He couldn't take it. He couldn't stand the thought that you might be–

“Hawks?” 

You stood behind him. Thank god you found him. You had heard the commotion, been called into action, and had run out to the streets helping people to evacuate. He turned to you sharply and froze. You immediately recognized what had just happened. 

“Help me check a vantage point. I want to see something.” you point to a skyscraper maybe half a mile to the north. You kept your eyes on him, he didn't dare look away. His sidekick looked between you. Whatever you needed was important. 

“We have it covered here, Hawks. We will see you back at the agency to finish up the report.” She gave you both a quick thumbs up and ran back into the commotion.

You nodded your thanks. He still felt frozen. You walk over and give his arm a quick pat. You needed to leave the public eye. Immediately. 

“Come on feathers” you mutter.

He finally shakes awake, grabbing you and spreading his wings for lift off. His adrenaline still coursing through his veins, you make it to the building within the minute. He has an uncharacteristically awkward landing and you try your best to hide your stagger. Finally he lets out a shaky breath. He has helped you countless times through your fears. The shock hits him like a wall and he starts to breathe heavily. You pull him to the ground to sit with you. He stares at your hands as his eyes start to well up. Losing you was his greatest fear.

“Hey, Kei.” you keep your voice low and gently hold his hands in your lap. 

“I- I thought that…”

“I know, I'm sorry I should have updated you. They called me to help evacuate a little after you arrived.” It was meant to be your day off. Thank goodness you were on call that week. 

He shook his head, still rattled and unsure. You watched him carefully. 

His breath hitches. You had a feeling you knew what was coming next. After so many years of suppressing his every emotion, his brain had saved him time and time again in the only way it knew how. 

His breathing grew shallow, his eyes started to unfocus. His brain overwhelmed, he starts to check out. You were both familiar with dissociation and how scary it could be. You also had grown close enough to recognize when it started and what could help each other. 

You gently grasp his cheek and tap your fingers a couple of times, bringing a new sensation. You needed to act quickly yet gently. 

“Hello my love. I’m sorry, I know that was terrifying”. 

Your other hand grabbed his wrist and placed his palm on your own pulse point. 

“We made it out though. I am very much still alive, a few bruises here and there but no blood loss, no head injuries, no broken bones I swear.” 

His eyes barely lifted to where you laid your hand over his. Good. any response was a good response. You smiled softly.

“Now we get to sit here together, right? The sun feels nice this time of day…”

Locking in his senses again was essential.

“...the wind messed up your hair a bit, I like it like this.” 

You run your fingers over his scalp, he leans into your touch. Your heart aches for him. 

“The ground is still here to support us…”

You pat the cement below you holding you ironically about 50 stories high. His breathing starts to pick up again. 

“I’m so glad you brought us here birdie, thank you.” 

His eyes widen at you. You smile and move closer into his lap, pulling him in for a hug. You feel him breathe in your scent, his favorite he always said. Sappy bastard. 

He lets out a sob. You try to hide your smile and rub his back.

“There you are”

He gently shakes against you, finally gaining his feeling back to his body.

“I thought I lost you.” 

“I know. But you found me didn't you?” 

He pulls you closer and squeezes. 

“I couldn't even look for you. I couldn't even move.”

You huff a laugh.

“Well I guess I was the one who found you this time. It's okay. We will find each other.”

A tear hits your shoulder, you continue to sit with him.

“I’m sorry” he whispers

“For what?”

“For freaking out, for crying, for not coming sooner.. I don't know just all of it.” 

You pulled your head back and caught his face to look at you.

“Now that's not fair is it? Should I apologize for needing your help when I'm scared? Are my emotions an inconvenience for you?” 

He shook his head, almost panicked.

“No, no of course not!’

You wrap yourself against him once again.

“So why would you? I like helping you, it makes me feel good. Don’t be selfish and take that away from me.”

He huffed a laugh. Calling your kindness selfish… 

“Lets stay here as long as we need. We can figure out an excuse later. Just, be with me for a bit?” 

He wraps his heavy wings around you and nestles his head into your neck after a gentle nod. He felt small. But he had you to protect him, a new feeling he could never truly regret. 

The sun continued to warm your skin, the wind ruffled your hair and his wings, the building held you high away from the chaos. You both let yourself feel, together. Until you were ready to join the world below once again. 

[anamericangirl]

I noticed something recently. Since yesterday, I've been pointing out on liberal posts that Kamala said "Trump wanted to abolish the supreme co-… The supreme co… The supreme… … Land… of our… … … constitutional… American land." and that I think she might be retarded. And people have been replying saying she didn't say that, or that I need to prove she said that, or asking me where she said that.

Same goes for Biden when I point out his golden quotes such as "I was the vice president for Barack America"

Libs always have no idea what I'm talking about. They always demand I prove they said those quotes. When I said Hillary wanted to build a wall long before Trump did, they say she never said that, and I show them the video and they don't wanna watch it.

What I'm getting at is

Liberals don't even watch the speeches of their own candidates. They don't watch them at all! These are incredibly commonly known quotes, these are easy to find videos, these are things they say unbelievably commonly in all of their speeches and libs are always dumbfounded when you bring them up.

THEY DON'T EVEN WATCH THEIR OWN RALLIES.

If I said that Kamala said "We need to build Strength through Joy" at the DNC, which is literally a Nazi thing (google "Strength through Joy"), which she DID SAY, and Oprah Winfrey ALSO SAID IT, the libs would reply "She never said that" as though they didn't even watch the DNC at all.

It's fucking wild

They are completely uninformed, they aren't listening to their own candidates, they're voting entirely out of hate or racially fueled shit like "I want to vote for a black woman" instead of actually watching their speeches.

I've watched every single Kamala, Biden, Trump, RFK Jr, Obama, Hillary, etc. speech for every election I've been old enough to vote for because it's extremely important to me as a human being to know who I'm VOTING FOR TO BE A REPRESENTATIVE OF MY VOICE AND A LEADER TO MY GODDAMN FUCKING COUNTRY EXCUSE ME GOD

And when I bring up quotes that liberal politicians say, liberals will always demand I'm lying and demand proof, and when I give them the proof they refuse to watch it!

I am 100% convinced liberals are just white-hating racists who want slavery to make a comeback which is why they're so strongly for letting illegals into our country and giving them the right to vote and mass amnesty because the democratic party fought tooth and nail to give slaves full voting power so they could get their slaves to vote for the left wing politicians who wanted to keep slavery going because they were filthy rich under slavery, but now that slavery's been abolished they're looking for any other way they can get colored folks to vote blue hence giving them $150,000 home loans in California. 100% convinced.

Get "I study history" on, liberals. Reminder that Kamala's literally a descendant of slave owners. Liberals regularly say shit like "All white people should be killed because they're descendants of slave owners" but despite factual evidence Kamala's a descendant of slave owners, they make an exception.

Sorry liberals. But you are horrible people, you're racist, you're intentionally uninformed, you don't put a single bit of effort into reading about US history or the history of the politicians you're voting for, and you're retarded.

Liberals are the definition of low information/no information voters. They get all their news from tiktok and think they’re informed enough to vote on who is the best person to lead the country.

They have no idea how much context and information they are missing.

And at this point I think it’s largely intentional with some people because otherwise they would have to confront the fact that these liberal politicians they are putting on pedestals as the saviors of America who will restore “democracy” (another term they don’t know the meaning of) are literally everything they claim to hate.

It says a lot about them when they can pull up Trump quotes from 10 or 15 years ago but they can’t tell you what Kamala said yesterday.

[imaslutforwritingshit]

oh my god you're like the only writer i've found whose requests are open rn

so basically ive been reading this rlly good book where the male protagonist is like rlly tall and super sweet and a hockey player and now i very desperately need ethan landry as that with like a short reader who maybe has some attitude

you can add smut (preferably) but if you can't think of anything for it it's fine!

OKAY

(Hockey Ethan Landry x fem. short reader, that ice skates)

(Part One- teasing, plot)

Sorry to the requester! This took a while like four months 😭 but luckily it’s skating season!

Ethan Landry ❤️‍🔥

Julie Weston 🤍

I started the routine again. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Wake up, grab my skates, go on the ice. I forget all of my problems when I skate, letting them fall under my feet as I rake the blades into powdery ice. Today, the rink is empty, given no one comes this early. It’s 5:00 in the morning, and if any person would be here right now, my guess is that they would be a sports player, considering how insane they all are.

Skating has been a part of my life forever, since I was a child, even. I don’t let myself think about how long it’s been, how much has changed. I just ride, to quote Lana, whose music I immediately put on, raising the volume of my AirPods to (almost) an extreme level. I begin the comfortable act of sliding my legs, bending my knees, then faster, until the ice is blending and whirling under my skates, and I am speeding in the rink, distracted by the music in my ears. I do a backwards spiral, grabbing my leg and twirling, then a backwards spin. I feel elevated, euphoric, and then, I feel a hard wall slam into my backside.

I trip over my skates, and fall to the ice, hearing my leggings rip from the impact. Groaning, I push myself up from my hands. Not blood, just a scrape on my legs. I sigh, and feel that my AirPods fell out of my ears when I had slammed to the ground. As I searched the ice for them, a low, gravely tone behind me scoffed.

I jumped, immediately turning unsuccessfully to meet the person. I stumbled, and straightened my legs out of fear, like a small deer in the wintertime. But no sheer amount of embarrassment could prepare me for who I saw behind me.

Ethan.

Ethan Landry.

When he met my expression, he smiled, his dark eyes glinting with the satisfaction of my surprise. His hair was messy, as if he had just woke up from bed, like me. He was wearing a black hoodie, and grey sweatpants, which seemed normal, but what stuck out to me was the hockey stick in his hands.

“I’m not gonna play with you, you know.” I stammered, pointing at the stick.

Ethan laughed smugly, and I swear I could’ve just slapped him then and there. He tapped the base of the stick on the ground. “Yeah? I was hoping you would.” He dropped his eyes to my smaller body, and I straightened my shoulders in an effort to be taller. “You certainly have the…build of a hockey player.”

I rolled my eyes, and huffed, grabbing my AirPods awkwardly in front of him. I could feel his stare down my back, and I really wished he wasn’t in direct view of my ass. I moved on the ice faster than I thought possible to get away from him, finding a corner where I practicing skating drills in an effort to sit with my thoughts. Ethan was moving a puck casually on the other side of the rink, and I made certain that he didn’t see me staring.

When I was in elementary school, Ethan Landry was every girl’s crush. How could he not be? With his dreamy eyes, his soft, tender voice, cute curls? I could remember every friend I ever had begging him for his number, or to sit with him during lunchtime. But no, not me. I saw who he really was. He was cocky, so much so that every time I walked by him, he would ask me if I was ready to admit I liked him. But I never did, and even if I would, he would never hear about it. Ethan would pester me, throw dodgeballs at my shoulder, tap my thumb repeatedly in 7up, until I glared at him, ultimately losing the game.

And I was fine hating Ethan Landry. I enjoyed it. I liked knowing that I was the only one who knew what he was- a playboy.

In 5th grade, I had a friend named Allie. She always tried to convince me to “confess” that I liked Ethan. She told me nobody could resist him, and there’s no point in me pretending that I didn’t like him. But it didn’t matter how many times I told her I wouldn’t. She already had a plan.

Allie wrote a fake love letter, filled with the grossest things a 5th grader would possibly write, or know about. Allie signed the letter with my name; putting it on Ethan’s desk the morning of English class. I will never forget the look on Ethan’s face after she told me what she did. It’s the first time I saw him blush.

Probably because Allie wrote, “I want to sleep with you,” in the letter, even if she didn’t know what that meant yet.

Needless to say, I never talked to that girl again, until she moved schools. And Ethan stopped bothering me after that. Only recently, in high school, the taunting and teasing has come up again. And with it, memories of 5th grade. I just need him out of my life. And the worst part is, he’s still just as fawned over, if not more, than before. Every girl I ever knew had once crushed on him. He’s gotten significantly taller, around 6’3, and his form filled out nicely after enrolling into hockey 7 years ago. I never went to any of his games, and honestly, I don’t care to. He’s not my friend, my enemy, or my lover. He’s nothing to me.

I took a break from skating, huffing over the side of the rink walls. I heard him skate over to me, and I straightened my body again, my heart suddenly faster. I didn’t dare look at him.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, hesitant. I ignored him. “Hey.” I only stared at him, feigning boredom. He gritted his teeth. “Julie, can I talk to you?”

“No.” I turned around and began skating on the ice. I heard Ethan groan behind me and follow my trail.

“What happened to us?” His voice was light, but the words cut deep.

I whirled around, putting my hands in my hips to seem like my fingers weren’t shaking.

“What do mean, us? There has been no us, there will never be an us,” I exclaim, skating backwards. “The last time I checked, the only thing you ever wanted us to be was the boy who makes fun of the girl, and the girl who loveeeddd the boy so much!” I mocked him, rolling out the word with an irritating gesture. I huffed in cold air, and whirled around for the final time, taking my time to exit the rink.

As I clanked my skates on the warm carpet of the bench area, I looked back, seeing Ethan’s eyes on mine. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down, and butterflies warmed my core. I forced my eyes down, and began disassembling my skates, stuffing them in the light pink bag I got for my 18th birthday.

“You know that I knew about Allie, right?”

His deep voice shocked me out of my state of pitiful thoughts. I shook my hair out of my face, and stared up, Ethan suddenly nearing the wall that separated the rink from the sitting area. I slid on my boots, and wiped melted water droplets from my pants as I stood.

“What?” My voice was weary. I just wanted to be home. School was tomorrow, and I would prefer to keep my Sunday Ethan-free from now on.

He stepped into the area, and sat down on the bench opposite to me. He was out of breath, red cheeked, with a smooth glaze of sweat gleaming on his sharp jawline. As he dusted off his sweats and kicked off his skates, he scoffed.

“I knew that Allie wrote the letter.” Silence filled the heavy room, only the heaters buzzing from afar the sound I could hear. Ethan finally stood up, black sneakers on his feet. He unzipped his jacket slowly, his eyes burning onto mine. As he stripped his body, I could see the muscles lining fabric underneath his shirt. I had to clench my thighs, bite my lip, not to go crazy.

Because, the secret was?

I’ve been attracted to Ethan Landry since the day I met him. And I’ve been trying, trying so hard to convince myself that I wasn’t.

He tugged on his sleeves, and casually zipping his bag as he talked. “She told me that she wrote it. And the reason that I was ignoring you after all of it wasn’t because I was embarrassed that you wanted to sleep with me.”

He stood near me, now towering over my frail body. I can’t believe how much taller he got, and he closed space between us, until I was up against the wall.

My nerves were burning, and his eyes were dark, fire pooling in his dangerously beautiful irises. He leaned in, his husky voice in my ear. “It’s because I was upset that you didn’t want to.”

My mouth dropped. “You were ten, and you knew what sleeping with people was?” That wasn’t on my mind. The thought that he would want me too… it drove me insane. I rubbed my legs together harder, pressure in my core.

Ethan laughed, but in a way that almost sounded painful. He leaned back, grazing my body with his eyes. “Jesus, not then.” His face suddenly got serious, as he rested his eyes on my hips, my breasts, and then my lips again.

“Now.”

My eyes opened wider than I could have imagined, and I gasped, letting breath open my lungs.

“Y-you want to sleep with me now?” I straightened my back, my eyes drilled into his.

His expression glinted with dark lust, a smile forming on his face as he took in my shock.

“Yeah.” He whispered, grabbing my wrist and sliding my arm over my head.

“Is that a problem?”

[soullessjack]

Full disclosure I am not the previous anon but building off of their message: I'm saying this with all due respect. Not accusing you of abuse apologia for your opinions on a fictional character, but I honestly feel like you have a strange bar for what constitutes an abuser. I strongly disagree that abusers don't regret their actions. An abuser can 100% show regret or remorse for what they did, they can show genuine love and affection to the people they victimize and still be an abuser. Dean is obviously not a black and white villainous caricature, but very rarely in real cases are abusers black and white villainous caricatures. We tend to single out Dean when dissecting the family dynamics because his abuse was the most extreme but all of them, Sam, Dean, and Castiel, are a murder cult who groom Jack into their line of business. So I don't really see the point in the semantics game.

1. that’s a fair point! I just think there’s some distinction between being abusive and being a straight-up abuser, if not distinctive connotations for those terms. I’m also not trying to be apologetic about Dean’s behavior more so than I’m just trying to explain it and make it more understandable than a surface level viewing of him.

2. agree again! nobody is completely black and white and that’s always been a consistent theme (alongside free will and family) within the show, as well as the choice to be a better person, so it’s very confusing to me when fandom discourse is all semantical about who’s worse or who’s better. your favs are wanted by the FBI and violated the Geneva Conventions numerous times, but they still try to do the right thing where it counts.

3. actually I think dumbing down TFW’s dynamic with jack as a “murder cult who groomed him into their line of business” is playing right into the semantics game and the villainous caricature.

for one, hunting just is not a cult. please can we not turn cult into the next internet buzzword. it’s a lifestyle that almost nobody involved actively enjoys living (Gordon and the other dude from Black Rock are outliers) because it’s nothing but trauma and loss and violence constantly, but for one reason or another it’s incredibly difficult to leave, or even compromise with a somewhat normal life. even Dean views it as a death sentence, and the violence he regularly commits within it only ever added to his low self worth as he considers himself a designated “grunt.” even in the later seasons when it’s framed more casually or comedically, the violence and murder of hunting is still ultimately a bleak and begrudging necessity; grunt work for the grunts. to say it’s a “murder cult” is just wrong and, well, a little cartoonish if I’m being fr.

second, jack wasn’t ‘groomed’ into being a hunter/murderer. I swear takes like these make me question what show everyone else is watching ,I’m sorry. he’s literally a born-adult supernatural creature with a heritage and birth circumstance that’s been intertwined with the lives of all three of his chosen fathers since before they all existed and cosmically dangerous powers. there is no way he could ever be normal or have a life outside of hunting (or one that lasts, at least). and considering what we know from his first death now, he probably would’ve just died as a normal baby if Cas had removed his grace. Yes, TFW has some major dysfunctions in their parenting with Jack and it’s absolutely worth talking about, but they still make an effort to be good father figures for him, even with fathers that frankly set them up for failure in that regard. to say they’re all groomers is, to put it mildly, insane and ridiculous

[call-me-chips]

“It’s finally me and you and him and us— and Dark Shadow” lmaoooo

Oh boy I have SO many Headcanons. In a. Deeply ironic turn of events, 1/2 of the existing fics directly contradicts one of them. (The headcanon in the fic is that Monoma is a menace in the kitchen, Shinsou is the chef, and Tokoyami is painfully mid. MY headcanon swaps Shinsou and Monoma…)

I think they would be extremely melodramatic. Tokoyami’s gothness + Monoma’s flair for the dramatic + Shinsou’s low effort punk vibe = What Unforgiving Alternative Fashion Loving God Allowed This To Happen.

Idk, I have a lot of thoughts and they are incomprehensible with how late it is for me rn. I think all of them are deeply insecure tbh. They all have quirks that could be seen as villainous and responded “well alright I’m going to embrace the eccentric” or “fuck you, I decide what I can be” or both. Smth sweet to me about like.. seeing the traits you hate about yourself as positives in another person. (Also, Monoma being an extrovert who adopted two introverts and made friends with Dark Shadow along the way)

Like. Monoma and Shinsou are cute and lowkey toxic (but like, in a fun way lol 💀) but I feel like Tokoyami manages to mellow them out i guess?? All three of them are able to be the straight man to the other two’s chaos, in a comedic sense.

This is a lot. Also it’s late. Hope any of this was comprehensive in the slightest, I am going to go eepy ever. Thank you for indulging me :D

I like your headcanon more for that one. When you say "menace in the kitchen" I'm assuming you mean that he's really bad at cooking, and idk, Shinsou doesn't seem like the kind of dude who's knowledgeable on how to cook anything (minus making instant ramen and being able to chop some vegetables). I think he just wouldn't care. I can, however, see Monoma stepping up to do the cooking

I'm not quite positive I know what melodramaticness is, but their vibe would def be somthing else xD

Also I'm just picturing a scene in my head where the three have to go to an important event and,,

Shinsou shouting from across the room: "Hey! What colour should I wear, grey-black or navy-black?"

Monoma yelling back: "Fucking hell, you do realize you can wear other colours besides black, right?"

Tokoyami, without hesitation: "Navy-black."

Shinsou: "Thanks, Fumi!"

(This is where I stop typing for tonight I'm so tired. I shall finish this in the morning 👍 sorry for keeping you waiting 😅)

"Monoma being an extrovert who adopted two introverts and made friends with Dark Shadow along the way" - Yes, but Darkshadow INSISTS he's part of it as well. Like, he keeps calling Monoma and Shinsou "Babe" around the house. Tokoyami doesn't really like it, but Shinsou and Moboma don't care and will respond to Darkshadow xD

Also all three of them are thinking to themselves, "Wow, my husbands are so weird. Glad I can be the voice of reason" lol

I wouldn't say I ship them, but I can def see the appeal and tis now on my radar. Thank you for introducing me to this :))

[jreads]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 11)

Rating: V for violent?

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Warnings: Angst, Mentions of blood, Canon-level violence, Dark themes, Foul language, (small emetophobia warning because I get it)

A/N: Yikes, sorry guys. This one is a bit painful, both in terms of writing calibur and plot points. I've been dragging my heels because I just can't seem to get it right but what the hell. Enjoy this slice of angst. In honour of Shadow and Bone S2, see if you can spot the six of crows reference. As usual, reblogs get a kiss (muah). Comment on this post or the masterlist to get added to the taglist! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the continued support. Love ya.

You had your elbows propped on the back of his chair, on either side of the helmet, staring over its reflective surface at the nav computer in front of you.

“There’s nothing there.” Not a planet, not an asteroid field, not even a hint of scrap metal within radius of the destination. The coordinates supplied by Karga were leading you all the way to the Outer Rim, to quite literally the middle of nowhere.

Din sighed, a tired action, his body heaving with the effort. “It could be a small moon maybe… something that hasn’t been mapped?”

“The galaxy’s been mapped, Din. All of it.”

“Sometimes planets will get deleted from records, especially if there’s something worth hiding.”

The sarcasm was laughably evident in your retort. “Fantastic! I am so excited.”

He chuckled and twisted in the pilot’s seat, relying on your loss of balance to pull you across the arm and into his lap. You didn’t even try to pretend that it was against your will. There had been more of this recently… overt touches, advances… flirting. And he was relentless with it. You were getting the feeling that he understood now, extremely well, just how much of an effect he had. And he was starting to take advantage of it.

“We’ll be fine.” The low vibration of his voice seemed to travel up your spine. And oh so easily… just like that, you believed him.

His hand played with the hem of your shirt, before dipping underneath it and up— cradling your spine with a broad palm. He was warm and calloused despite the gloves, a perfect reflection of his dichotomy. Violent and unforgiving with his enemies, soft and affectionate with his family.

“I miss Grogu.” 

Caught up in the drama and the intensity of the past couple days, you had started to crave that lighthearted, bubbly energy. It was a much-needed part of your dynamic. 

“Everything goes well… we’ll be back with him in a few hours.” You smiled inwardly at the thought. He’d coo and babble at the two of you; you might even be able to sense his displeasure at being left behind for such a long time. But—

“What happens to…” You motioned between you and him. “…this?”

The helmet cocked to the side. “This?”

“Yeah, this. Us.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting in his hold. “We have to be careful with him around, right?” He was poking at the edge of your bandage, a sign of bashfulness perhaps.

“How much does he know?” Din asked, as if he expected you to have an answer.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes he looks at me with these eyes, like he sees it all. Like he understands it.”

“It?” You could see all of hyperspace reflected in his visor.

“You should ask him.”

“That’s not really how it works.” His hand was tracing circles over your back. He hummed, a desire for clarification. “I can get emotions from him, and he gets them from me. Especially stronger ones. We can’t actually… talk.”

He was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. 

“So, if I were to…” The hand under your knees then crept around your thigh, up and towards the inside, so dangerously close to where you were still aching for him.

You clamped down on his hand, pushing it back. “Okay, so we really have to be careful.”

Din’s hold tightened around you, and you could practically feel the grin on his features. “You going to sneak around with me, cyare?”

Oh, you would. Kriff yes, you would. 

Hours later, the hyperspace exit was abrupt. You were both strapped into your respective seats, Din manning the controls. You noted the hand he kept firmly on the front cannon triggers, and the tension he held between his shoulder blades.

But it was quiet ahead. An expanse of brilliant stars only interrupted by a small figure in the distance. Asymmetrical. Not a planet. You fidgeted uncomfortably in your seat. In a few minutes you had gained on the stationary object.

“…It’s a ship.” Slight damage, no thrusters, no movement, not even any light visible from the exterior. Almost as if it had been abandoned.

“EF76.” Din turned his head to you. “Nebulon-B Frigate.” Your tongue was caught between your teeth. “I don’t like this.” The thing probably had long range sensors. Whoever was on board, if there even was anyone on board, already knew you were here. It was much too late to turn back now. 

“But those were old rebel cruisers, right?” Din queried.

You were stiff as a board beside him. “The rebels used them in the war… but they were originally built for the Imperial Navy.” Leaning forward a touch and surveying the several levels of the vessel, you whispered: “It’s been a while since I’ve seen one.”

The Razor Crest did a wide circle around the craft, once, Din then advancing to survey the long bridge.

“I can’t see a thing. Scanners are picking up life forms though.”

You leaned forward. “How many?”

“Not sure, I can’t get any readings on the lower sections. All I see are seven.” He turned his helmet a fraction of an inch. “What do you think?”

Again. There was that insistent desire to turn and run. Self-preservation. A habit that had stuck over the decades. But it was silly, wasn’t it?

“It’s a job.” Din nodded once in agreement. “So let’s finish it.”

He seemed to contemplate for a moment before guiding the ship forward once more, in search of a docking port. But you weren’t looking out into space anymore. You were looking at him.

You could see flashbacks in the reflection of his helmet. Rain on Sorgan, drenching the huts, soaking your clothes, running in tiny rivers down your face as you jogged to him.

“Wait!”

He’s loading the cart with weapons— knives, pistols, rifle— but he stops in his tracks. His back remains to you, but you can tell you have his attention. The child floats in his pram, eyes open, ears perked, head tilted curiously. He is adorable.

Perhaps your silence has stretched too long because the Mandalorian turns to you. The rain makes a soft pinging sound against his armour. You have to blink it out of your eyelashes.

“Yes?” It’s monotone, almost cold. Almost.

The fabric of your shirt is sticking to your skin. You are shy, hesitant even, when you speak.

“I can help you.” 

He just stands there. Unmoving. You can’t tell where he’s looking… what he’s thinking. It’s unusual. You shrink under his scrutiny. Perhaps he thinks you’re silly, small, pathetic, useless—

“Yes.” He shifts his weight. “I could use someone with your… talents.”

You try not to let the relief show in your posture. You had expected him to deny you outright.

“…But a life here is peaceful… safe. With me, it won’t be.” 

“I know.” You blurt, before considering your words. He cocks his head to one side. “I mean, I understand.” One step closer. “I want to help.”

Some time later, when you arrive on the ship, and the engines ignite in a purr, he asks you—

“Are you sure?”

The haze broke, and you were staring once again at the looming ship, an open loading dock.

“Yes.” The word was unconvincing on your lips. “Let’s get this over with.”

The ship creaked, a hollow banging echoing through the hull as she docked. You were sweating.

Din relinquished the controls, and you straightened as he stood, turned, and stopped before you.

“Hey,” He had tilted your chin up with a finger. “You can stay. I won’t be long.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Your bones protested as you rose from the jump seat. You felt weary. “Like hell I’m letting you go in there alone.”

He looked at you like he was about to insist… then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he slid his hands over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“You stay behind me, got it.” You nodded, throat suddenly heavy with something. “And if I tell you to run, you kriffing do it.” 

You wouldn’t be running. Not unless he was alongside you. “We’ll be fine.” It was the only response you gave, a mirror of his own words. You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince.

It was dark. There had been no greeting party as the two of you had scaled the ladder into the Frigate, so you were left to wander down the dimly lit halls, lined only along the edges of the floor with cold white light.

Din kept you behind him, as promised. The blaster had left his hip holster before you had even disembarked from the Crest. The passageway was a labyrinth, and after several minutes of walking, you briefly voiced your concern to Din.

“Will we be able to find our way back to the ship?”

He faced forward as he answered. “My footprints leave residue; I can track them back.” Both of your voices were hushed, and you weren’t entirely sure why.

You passed another four-way intersection, and Din scanned each branch before letting you continue. But something stopped you dead centre, a feeling, a nostalgia. A familiar presence. Your head snapped to the left. Din was still walking forward, unaware of your halt.

Curiosity, purpose, and perhaps even fear led you down the new path. You were only alerted to Din’s proximity when he called your name.

“What is it?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the beat everywhere. “I don’t know, just…”

When a cantina band plays, often their music will crescendo at its climax, a rumbling, near deafening hum that seems to permeate both eardrums and settle somewhere in the middle of the brain. You felt that then, though no song was audible.

You crept forward, slowly now, into another intersection… past it. Din guarded you from behind, three possible angles of attack. He scanned them all, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, his back squarely to you. He hadn’t noticed how much distance had opened between the two of you.

A blast door sealed with a deafening bang, followed by a low hydraulic hiss. 

You both turned, neither of you in time. A small square window was set in the middle of the door, and you pounded on it with your fist. You yelled. Could he hear you? Was he saying something? You couldn’t hear him.

But he spun away sharply, and you looked past him, over his shoulder, to the line of soldiers that had appeared at the end of the hall. They knelt, blasters raised. Stormtroopers.

A mistake. It was a mistake.

“Din!” You threw your body against the glass… once… twice. More appeared from each side. He was surrounded. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t even remember that you shouldn’t be yelling his name.

Each of the troopers held Imperial standard-issue blasters… 13 red sights pointed at the chest of the person you loved most in the galaxy. 

You ran. Sprinted. Taking three rights in an effort to double back on yourself, to ambush the troopers from behind. You were met only with another closed door. Panic. 

Anguish, despair, desperation, hopelessness, confusion, frustration. Again… fear.

Because all of sudden, Din wasn’t the only one in trouble.

“You’ve grown.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You knew that voice. You heard it often enough in your nightmares— laughing, taunting.

You wouldn’t turn, perhaps out of a desire to hold onto ignorance, to not be able to confirm with your eyes what you already knew to be true.

“Look at me.” The words were mockingly soft, sweet. “I want to see your face.”

Your body seemed to obey on its own.

He stood a few paces down the hall, in an immaculately tailored Imperial uniform, hands clasped behind his back, flanked by troopers. He sighed, as if in contentment.

You could have dispatched him in any number of ways. Force choke, snapped neck, vibroblade to the gut. But that was the funny thing about trauma.

An assault of memories came flooding back, fresh as ever. Torture, blood, cruelty, promises. A crashing ship, a brutal kill. Palpatine’s loyalists.

Impossible.

“You died.” You were shaking. “I killed you.”

He smiled, as if it were all a practical joke. “I’m afraid you simply didn’t cut deep enough, my dear.”

Your brain didn’t have enough time to catch up. By the time you had processed that he was alive, by the time you decided you would just have to try again, just have to kill him better this time, troopers had already seized you by the shoulders, slapping a thick pair of cuffs on your wrists.

No. No. Not this. Not again. You might have been screaming, thrashing like a wild animal, as the Stormtroopers dragged you down the hall, further away from Din. 

Din, who might already be dead.

When you reached the control room, you were strung up in a forcefield of glowing blue magnets, an extra set of cuffs fastened around your ankles. Soldiers lined the room, and he stood at the front, directly ahead of you.

“Let the Mandalorian go.” It came out breathless, desperate, despite your efforts to project some sense of authority.

He took a step toward you, reaching out to cradle your face. You couldn’t even rear back, the magnets having rendered you entirely immobile. “He’ll be alright. I give you my word.”

You spat. “Why would I ever trust anything you say?”

He circled you predatorily, the pale pink scar across his throat stark in the ship’s cool light. You had done that.

“Because… he brought us our bounty.” His smile was lecherous. “The Mandalorian will be well rewarded.”

Our bounty.

No.

It was never about the crystal.

It was about you. You were spinning. And still, he was talking as if it were a conversation between old friends.

“You’ll forgive me if I monologue a touch? It’s been quite a while since we caught up.”

“You haven’t given me much of a choice.” The containment field was making you feel scrambled, the room going in and out of focus. You could feel your eyelids drooping, muscles going limp.

A sharp electric jolt seared through your wrists, eliciting a gasp from you. 

“Painful, isn’t it?” He was smiling. “A Geonosian invention actually… and quite effective, especially on force wielders.” You were still trying to recover. “Forgive me, the extra shocks aren’t necessary, but I want you awake for this.”

“So, the crystal.” He motioned with his hands, almost exuberantly. “The Emperor had sourced it for you prior to his… disappearance.” The wording was careful, deliberate. “He knew it would call to you. It was almost too easy.”

Din.

Where was Din?

“All I had to do was plant it. Put some rumors out about its value… the whereabouts. I knew it would cause quite an upheaval. And I suspected you would find it in the process.” His grin was pure malice. “Or rather… It would find you.”

He paused, a curious look in his eyes. “It does call to you, doesn’t it?” He found his answer in your silence, a nod and wistful smile before he continued.

“The Mandalorian was an interesting addition to the equation. I never expected you would have kept such peculiar company.”

You were fading out again, his voice getting farther and farther away. Another jolt pulled a hoarse scream from you.

“Sorry, dear. As I was saying… Can you believe we came so close only a few years back? When Moff Gideon ran into your… travel companion.” Again, another particular choice of words. “Yes, I was close by. Gideon and I were well acquainted. I couldn’t believe you were alive. That you had survived the crash.” There was happiness in his voice, excitement even. It made you nauseous.

You didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want to know how you’d been played… walked Din right into a trap because you couldn’t see it coming. Too blinded by—

“I wondered if it might cause issues for us. I had heard about the… many talents of Din Djarin.”

He knew his name.

“But I never expected him to be so reasonable! Triple the value of the crystal… that’s what he wrestled out of me, but it was worth it. You are worth it.” His smile was so broad it might have ripped a hole through his cheeks. “You will be. How many times have I told you. You’re the future.”

Triple the value.

He had bought you.

Din had sold you.

It felt as if the blood had stopped flowing to your brain. Like your lungs could no longer draw breath. As if your heart had been unceremoniously gutted from your chest. It couldn’t be true. 

“You don’t believe me.” His voice sounded almost sympathetic. “You will. It may take some time… but you’ll understand. When he doesn’t come for you, you’ll understand. We are all you have. I am all you have.”

You couldn’t yell. Couldn’t let a tear fall in his presence. You wouldn’t. Instead, you let the magnetic field pull you under… further and further… until you could no longer feel the zaps of electricity that he sent to revive you. Until you could no longer feel anything at all.

You knew this game. Knew how to numb yourself just enough, physically and mentally, to be less aware of the pain you knew he was so capable of inflicting. Perhaps that had been your problem all along. You had softened, thawed… let someone in. And look what good had come of it.

You were right back where you started. 

Din stood still in a hall of bodies. 

Thirteen men he had killed, and then he had thrown himself against the blast doors, again and again, the thick thudding sound of his body against metal seeming almost like a mockery. He had then tried the darksaber, igniting it and attempting to melt his way through. But they were solid, airtight, probably a few inches longer than the blade itself, meant to withstand the outside pressure of space.

It had been a trap, of course it had been a kriffing trap, and he had lost you.

Lost you.

He had lost you.

He might be panicking. Hyperventilating. He needed to pull himself together. And he needed a plan.

If whoever was in charge could spare that many men just to deal with him, there must be many more aboard the vessel. A hidden crew. They had known he would try to read heat signatures. Stormtroopers. Empire. Fuck. He had been so stupid to lead you here, put you in harm’s way. He should have thrown the bounty back in Karga’s face, told him to find someone else, flown you and the kid to Naboo.

He should’ve…

He couldn’t take them all himself. He couldn’t even get through this damned door. And he was no good to you dead. He needed backup. Fast. Someone he could trust. More than someone. He turned.

The Mandalorian had to wrestle with every fibre of his being, every protective instinct, every thought commanding him to go back as he scaled the ladder of the loading dock, and re-entered the Razor Crest, alone. He fought with himself as he engaged the thrusters and disconnected from the frigate. He cursed each choice he had made, setting events slowly in motion, as he steered the old ship away and typed in the hyperspace calculations. 

By the time he made the jump, and tore the helmet off, tears were tracking over his cheekbones, dripping off the edge of his chin. He stood and spun, punching a dent into the cockpit doors. 

Din screamed, and the hoarse sound echoed through the empty ship.

Sorgan’s natural sounds are like a strange sort of melody. Almost a lullaby.

You are lying on a grassy knoll, staring up at the stars, folded into a warm body that you know the feel of. Intimately.

Grogu’s cry of delight comes floating on a phantom wind and all of a sudden you can see him, cradled in Din’s arms, fixing you with a confused stare. Like he doesn’t recognize you at all.

“I told you I would do anything to protect him.” The Mandalorian’s words are matter of fact. Barely apologetic. “He is my family.”

There is warmth on your hands. Then pain… searing pain. Blood everywhere. Thick magnetic cuffs around your wrists. And your ankles. You don’t have the energy to put up a fight. 

“I thought I was too.”

He doesn’t reply. Just fixes you with that unreadable stare of his.

You awoke and vomited over the polished floor of your holding cell.

The suns were casting a sickeningly warm glow across the table, laid with fat fruits, cured meats, goblets of rich liquid.

He stood at the head, fists curled at his side, trying to calm the deafening silence in his head enough to speak stably.

“You owe me.” He was shaking. “I’m here to call in that favour.”

Fennec Shand stood slowly from her seat, dinner long forgotten.

“Djarin.” Her voice had an uncertain timbre to it. “Where is your girl?”

Boba Fett had pushed back from the table as soon as Din had entered the room. The Daimyo was already reaching for his weapons. 

A promise of blood to be spilled.

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @aavengingbucky @prismaticpizza @blub-senpai @a-phan-of-youtube @jaguarthecat @lizajane3 @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @graciexmarvel @soobinsrose @simply-maggie @alwaysdjarin @minky77 @tinytinturtle @tae27 @groguspicklejar @slightlyuglierbeyonce-blog @willow-t @abbyhaslongshorts @andrewshotspot @racetrackheart @leithatnight @messageinadaisy @lostinsideourminds @wren-2-d @goth-cowgir1 @aphterthoughtt @sleeplessskeleton

I had trouble tagging some, so just shoot me a message if your tag isn't working :)

[bl0ss0m-dr4wz]

Intro 2.0

> Hello! I’m Blossom! But I also go by Bloom, feel free to call me whatever you want as long as it isn’t mean spirited.

> I use he/him, they/them, star/stars and she/her pronouns (no preference) I’m also a bisexual and genderfluid.

> KEEP IN MIND WHEN INTERACTING WITH ME! I am extremely sensitive and overapologetic, even in situations when I did nothing wrong. I’m a diagnosed autistic and I need tone tags when talking with somebody, so if I misinterpret something. I’m so sorry in advance. I’m also severely epileptic and depressed.

> My interests are: Cookie Run, The Amazing Digital Circus, Billie Bust Up, Homestar Runner, Pokémon, Kirby, Murder Drones, Pikmin, Mixels, My Singing Monsters, Monkie Kid, Super Mario, Yo-Kai Watch, Brawl Stars, Invader Zim and Dog Man.

> PEDOPHILES, PROSHIPPERS, ZOOPHILES, NSFW, NAZIS, RACISTS, ZIONISTS, LGBTPHOBES DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME!! YOU WILL ONLY GET BLOCKED.

> Tag guide:

#my art - [art I drew, either old or new.]

#oc art - [from reference sheets to doodles to angst, we got it all! just as long as it has my ocs than it counts]

#my animation - [it’s mostly animation memes but I’m counting them.]

#my edit - [edits created by yours truly as well, usually varying between silly and angst]

#my fic - [oops! all angst! /j jokes aside I love writing these. Mostly angst but there IS some fluff and humor in there]

#headcanon - [they vary from silly to serious LOL but most of them are serious]

#reblog - [reblogging someone else’s post, self explanatory]

#nonsense rambling - [talking about a interest I really like]

#wip - [works in progress for art, animation, edits and writing]

#plans - [plans for future projects like bigger pieces of art and AUs]

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[bathroomtrapped]

saw ask. so let's say hypothetically (not really) all the apprentices are autistic (they are) headcanon them

saw ask ‼️‼️ i completely agree unironically and i keep that in mind when i consume/write/draw saw content. jigsaw apprentices? more like PDA autistics anonymous jfc

i (shamefully) am not an amanda-guy and dont have pretty much any headcanons about her overall so sorry about that but ill do some bullet points for the apprentices bc ive thought TOO MUCH abt this

adam

1. the most obvious PDA manifestation, though i think its strong in mark and lawrence for sure, adam just doesnt mask his. he pretty much built his life around maximizing free will and full control over his schedule

2. constantly reducing sensory input with music and being baked. his apartment is dead silent and dark 24/7 tho

3. honestly i think adam has shocking high levels of empathy. most people in his life wouldnt peg him as someone who would struggle with that but i think its what sets him apart from nearly every saw character. hes so isolated but desperate to understand and connect with other people, even if hes in the shadows

4. studies high class targets and their mannerisms. it helped him function during a few job interviews

5. hates eating, hates effort so pretty much eats like shit. very few specific, cheap, prepackaged meals that he can handle. anything that isnt a time commitment to prepare and eat

6. talks too much to overcompensate (not sure if people are able to understand what hes getting at and ends up rambling)

lawrence

1. i hc him as a narc as well which (as you can imagine) combined with PDA makes instruction/criticism/responsibility stressful so hes constantly overloaded

2. same as above, combined with asd i think its the biggest reason he has that canonical low empathy (similar to mark)

3. can only eat incredibly plain and simple foods. rice, bread, vegetables without butters/oils etc. very picky

4. very little auditory sensory issues after so many years in a hospital and needs noise in order to function (including sleep)

5. started wearing pajamas under his suits after a few years in residency because hes already tired 24/7, the terrible fabric on top of that just makes him insane

6. struggled through med school because lectures are hard to interpret and hes more of a visual learner

7. so much eye contact

8. remember that dog picture in his wallet we see for like 5 seconds? i cant imagine someone like him enjoying the texture or sporadic energy of a dog and makes it sleep in dianas room at night. its not allowed in the office and he meticulously cleans all of the dog hair the second he sees any

9. absolutely allergic to change in every way

mark

1. low empathy as i mentioned before

2. he wears a lot loose fitting suits in canon which i think are for sensory reasons. he clearly prioritizes comfort with those (interesting) track pants?

3. i have joked with my mutuals about his off-putting, autistic ass stare countless times

4. terrible liar because he has less control over his facial expressions and mannerisms. he ends up making too much eye contact and thinks that brutal honesty is a good idea. he has an almost nonexistent filter

5. he reminds me of that brand of autism that a lot of patriarchs have, the kind that goes unnoticed bc theyre the head of the household. meat and potatoes his entire life, strange rituals and routines everyone has to get used to

6. extremely black and white sense of justice and a poor understanding of hierarchal authority. he doesnt get why people are above or below other people and struggles with those concepts

7. everyone in the precinct knows not to joke with mark because it will always fall flat and have to be explained. mark has rly funny but dry and blunt humor himself

[gayf1hoe]

Part 6

After last week's race in Baku I am in a better mood and I'm not as angry at the team's mess up. We discussed what went wrong and what they are going to do to prevent it from occurring again and with optimism I believe what they said.

After Max had come to comfort me I went out and watched him on the podium and the whole time he was making eye contact with me and smiling and even though he was there for me when I was at a low, I'm still not sure on what I want to do in regards to our relationship. We spoke briefly after the podium about what we had been up to but we didn't really speak about our relationship or friendship but I could tell he was holding something back, Max is like an open book he's so easy to read. We have started to spend more time together over the past week and things are starting to go back to "normal" whatever that may be. With the Miami Grand Prix being a week after Baku I have been extremely busy yet have still somehow managed to find time to talk with Max.

We arrived in Miami a few days ago and we have been mainly relaxing. For the past few days Zhou has somehow managed to convince me to go on a run in the morning, which normally I would never do because the idea of waking up early to do physical exercise is not my image of happiness but he is very convincing.

I am standing by the palm tree outside the hotel where me and Zhou had designated as the meeting point when I receive a text message and he informs me that he can't be bothered to go for a run today. I let out a heavy sigh at the fact I got up early and got ready and he cancelled on me.

I turn around and head back to the hotel when Max comes out and sees me.

"Hey is everything alright?" He asks.

"Yep all good, minus the fact I got up early to go for a run with Zhou and he's cancelled on me"

"Well if you want you can come on a run with me, I have no one to go with so I don't mind"

I ponder monetarily and agree to go on a run with him as I don't see the point in going to all this effort for no reason.

Half way into our run we are slightly talking about the upcoming weekend and how things are going to go.

The only thing I pray for is a quick and efficient pit stop that doesn't cause me to lose positions or the chance of a podium finish.

After a long and exhaustive run we arrive back at the hotel sweaty and out of breath and we somehow find the strength to climb up the entrance steps and walk over to the elevator.

As I push the button and the elevator dings there is a moment of awkward silence and then when we enter the elevator there is an even bigger moment of awkward silence, this is what I hate about mine and Max's friendship. We can be talking and laughing and then it's just silence and no communication. The elevator dings at the third floor and we both exit heading in opposite directions. Today is media day which is never a whole lot of fun but something I merely tolerate for the sake of the team and its PR image.

I get changed out of my running clothes and have a quick shower and get changed into my usual outfit of jeans and a T-shirt.

For some unknown reason Alessandro has called a spontaneous meaning so it can only be something bad because it's out of character for him.

The paddock is inundated with journalists and TV crews making it difficult to get from one end to the other without being questioned or having a camera pushed into your face. I make it to the team trailer and I am one the first to arrive, meaning I have to wait for a while for everyone else to arrive, but once they do and Alessandro enters the room I can tell by his demeanour something is seriously wrong.

"Sorry for calling such an impromptu meeting but I feel it is imperative that I tell you all sooner rather than later. As I'm sure you're aware Audi were going to buy Sauber and take over in 2 seasons. However as of this morning the decision was made that Audi will take over Sauber in F1 from next season instead."

The room is silent and no one says anything so I take the responsibility to break it.

"So does that mean we are all out of jobs?"

He thinks for a moment "Most of the engineers and strategists will have a job at Audi"

"But what about us drivers?" I follow on.

"I'm sure Audi will reveal their plans for their driver line up in the forthcoming weeks but at the moment nothing is guaranteed, I also think I should let you all know the team and Audi are making a social media statement right now informing everyone of the change so expect media day to be full of loads of questions about it"

We all leave the room and in the garage the normal jovial scene is solemn and quiet. The morale of the team has taken a major hit, the uncertainty as to whether or not most of us will have a job at Audi lingers over all of us. We can't help but feel a little betrayed that Sauber so willingly would accept Audis's offer without much contest but it's just a fact we will have to learn to accept.

I have to attend a press conference in 20 minutes and at the moment Alessandro is briefing me on what to say and what not to say and he goes over time. I quickly run to the other end of the paddock and walk through the doors of the conference room.

When I enter they all look at me and Max points at his watch repeatedly tapping it. I take a seat in between George and Lance and wait for my turn to be questioned.

Reporter: So Y/N the first question is obviously the obvious one. What is going on at Sauber?

Y/N: So yes it's obviously been announced that Audi is joining next season instead of the planned time.

Reporter: So is your job on the line?

Y/N: My job was always on the line regardless because I'm only on a one year contract.

Reporter: So do you think you have a job at Audi?

Y/N: I truly hope so but if not I have other things lined up.

Reporter: Can you give us any insight?

Y/N: Unfortunately not.

The meeting drags on and every time I think it's about to come to an end more questions come flooding my way.

At the conclusion of the meeting we all stand up and file out of the room heading in separate directions, I think I'm walking alone when I turn to my left side and see Max walking alongside me.

"Is everything alright?" I ask.

"It's me who should be asking you that question. How are you feeling after the whole Audi announcement?"

"I feel fine, if they don't offer me a contract and no other team does well I guess that's just life"

"So what are these mysterious plans that you were hinting at?" he asks.

"Well I have an offer to race in Formula E for Mahindra Racing"

After I finish my sentence he stops in his tracks and makes me turn to face him.

"Are you seriously going to give up on F1 and your dream that easily?"

"Well it's a bit difficult if no team wants me"

I walk away leaving him outside one of the many stands of products and I head back to my garage for a media shoot and when I walk in the mood is a little less suppressed and more joyful, well as joyful as you can be after discovering you might lose your job.

The media shoot involves me and Zhou doing some photography challenge and it doesn't take too long before we get a chance to have lunch. The hospitality building is quite empty, Zhou has a meeting so I'm left by myself to go and get lunch. After I pick out a few items to eat I dart my eyes around the room trying to find somewhere to sit like a new kid at school and I see Logan sitting in one corner alone so I decide to go over to him.

"Hey, can I sit here?" I ask.

"Of course," he replies.

I place my plate down on the table as well as my glass and take a seat. The table is right next to the window where the sun is piercing through so as I let my arm rest on the table I can feel my arm burning.

"So how are things going at Williams?" I enquire.

"It's going pretty well this year in comparison to last year, but how are things going for you?"

"Erm... it's going alright I guess the whole audi thing has thrown everyone off"

We chat for a while whilst eating, discussing an array of topics including his hopes for one of his first home races of the season.

After I finish eating I head back to the garage as I received a text from Alessadbro saying he had more important news. The amount of important news I have had to digest in the space of one day is overwhelming and incomprehensible.

I quickly run up the stairs to his office skipping most of them and upon reaching the door I knock firmly and assertively although what's really going on in my mind is the complete opposite.

I wait for a moment for him to reply before entering and when he does I open the door to find him sitting behind his desk gesturing towards the chair.

It takes a moment before he speaks:

"So Y/N following your question this morning about whether or not you will have a drive at Audi they have actually confirmed their driver line up quite quickly, I didn't even know these negotiations were taking place and they sent me the email of their driver line up and the contracts -"

"Alessandro" I interject "cut the shit and just tell me if I have a contract with Audi"

He sighs.

"Unfortunately not, they have decided you are too inexperienced for the team"

"So who are they taking?" I ask.

"Nico and Valtteri"

I don't think it's all really set in yet, I don't say anything in response instead I stand up and walk down the hallway and see Zhou sitting on one of the chairs with his head tilted back against the wall.

"I take it you have heard the news then" I say taking a seat on the empty chair, whilst Zhou responds with a simple "yep".

I follow his lead and tilt my head back against the wall and sigh thinking about the predicament that we are in but I know we can't let it affect our performance otherwise our hope of a seat next year is gone.

Morale has been at an all time low at the team so during qualifying today me and Zhou intend to make a statement to Audi that they are missing out on two amazing and competent drivers and show them experience isn't everything it is made out to be.

Me and Zhou both make it to Q3 and now is the time for us to really prove ourselves but we face the challenge of both Ferraris, Red Bulls and McLarens, Yuki and Nico also make it to Q3 but I don't see them posing a threat not because of their talent but because of their cars.

We must go out at least 4 or 5 times to set quicker laps and I await the verdict as I cross the line.

"Y/N, Hamilton is on pole, You are P2, Verstappen P3, Zhou P4 and Sainz P5."

I feel slightly elated at the result and pissed that I was only 0.032 seconds off pole position but I will improve and keep my head down for the next race.

The Miami Grand Prix still in its infancy stage in comparison to most F1 tracks yet still as vibrant and popular as them. Americans have a natural love for motorsport whether it's NASCAR, Rallying or F1 and they always turn up in their thousands to show support for drivers and to indulge in the entertainment racing provides.

I'm in the midst of getting changed into my race suit when there's a light and barely audible knock on my door. I head over to the door whilst zipping up my race suit and I am shocked to see Ollie smiling from ear to ear in front of me. I quickly invite him in and hug him.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Well I thought I would come and show my support for you and enjoy a race"

I'm still in a state of shock at the fact Ollie is here, I can see why people draw the conclusion that we are dating because we struggle to be apart from each other.

"So how are you feeling about Audi coming next year?" He asks as I fasten my shoes.

"I mean I'm little upset at not getting signed but it's life I will find something else to do"

"Wait you're not getting signed, I thought we would finally be in F1 together"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I'm joining Haas next year, but who's joining Audi?"

"Nico and Valtteri" I declare standing up and grabbing my balaclava and helmet.

I don't want to dwell on the future much and I put a stop to the conversation and head to the door. I would love for Ollie to stay in my garage during the race but he has to stay loyal to Ferrari.

"Y/N 30 seconds to lights out focus and have a good race"

5 red light flash before me and the adrenaline that follows through my veins puts me on edge I quickly avert my gaze to Lewis who is in P1 although I don't plan on attacking him in the opening laps as I want to conserve my tyres so I want to focus on keeping Max at bay behind me which is a lot easier said than done.

As soon as the lights extinguish I let up off the clutch and try to accelerate as fast as I can but Max comes alongside me and pushes me wide causing him to gain the place.

Lap by Lap I'm finding different people behind me and every time I somehow manage to maintain P3. The team makes me pit twice and to my relief they don't mess it up and come out onto the track having not lost many positions.

Despite not gaining any positions crossing the line in P3 is a good enough outcome for me, but if F2 me heard I was settling for third he would be having a meltdown.

Being on the podium with Max feels even more special than being on the podium. It's great to celebrate together even though it was Lewis who won it still feels really special.

We have sweat and champagne trickling down our faces when we reconvene behind the podium.

"Good job out there today" he says.

"Yeah you to, you really gave me a run for my money" I replied.

We take a slow walk back to the pit lane making general conversation.

"So I was wondering did you want to go for dinner with me tonight"

I think for a moment.

"Sure Maxie"

He laughs at my response and I question why.

"It's just a funny nickname that's all" he replies.

"Would you rather me call you Mad Max or something like that"

"No, Maxie will suffice".

As I'm drying off from my shower my phone vibrates and I walk across to the other side of the room to see it's just a notification from the F1 social media so I open it to see what rubbish they have posted this time.

I open it to see a tweet that makes reality set in:

Formula 1: BREAKING Audi Annoucne their dirver line up will consist of Nico Hulkenberg and Valtteri Bottas.

After I finish reading it I place my phone down on the counter and get dressed before heading outside to the place where me and Max had agreed to wait.

The second he arrives I don't know whether it's out of anger and spite or out of passion I grab his face and begin to kiss him and as I do so he kisses me back. We don't care to look and see if there are any photographers around because I couldn't care less.

"Are you sure you want to do this? What will Sauber think?" he asks between a brief pause.

"Fuck them" I retort.

"You're slowly becoming my little rebel"

After we finish making out we head to the restaurant Max originally wanted to take me to. We are a little late for the reservation Max booked but we are still shown to our seats.

We quickly order and after the race I am starving so I probably order a little too much but my trainer isn't here to see it so it doesn't really matter.

"So how are you feeling after you found out you aren't going to be with Audi next year"

"You know I have been asked that question so many times I might as well just record my response and hit play after I'm asked it, but I really am alright if I find another seat it will be great and if I don't that's just life"

"You know I can always speak to Christian and see what he's doing with Checo's seat"

"it's fine really if Christian thinks I'm talented he will reach out to me plus I don't think he would want me around distracting you".

We speak for ages and quickly day turns into night so we head back to the hotel and as we enter the doors we are met by a barrage of questions and we are both extremely confused, until Daniel provides some context.

"A journalist stuck their camera over the fence and caught a video of you two full on making out hands going all over each other if I wasn't straight I would have found it quite arousing"

Whilst everyone laughs at the last part I inform him I could have gone without that information.

Normally I would have been a little nervous at the shitstorm I had just created but for some reason that feeling is extinct and I feel a little proud and relieved that me and Max don't have to tread carefully around our teams and the media.

Even though we aren't an established couple, in fact I don't even know what we are but it's nice to know that we try and find clarity in what we are without worrying about the media.

As me and Max lay in bed our phones are going crazy probably from both of our teams and for Max most certainly his dad going berserk.

"You know we have just created a huge drama," he says.

"I know, I can't wait for Drive to Survive"

[lakesbian]

really sorry to tell you this but personally i Am glad youre reading twig lol your saltposts are so extremely cathartic to me. i do believe in the existence of some type of twig mind virus that wipes most peoples memories of arc 14 onwards so that whenever they discuss it they're exclusively referring to the flawed-but-generally-interesting first 12 or so arcs. after which point anyone who was not afflicted can pinpoint the exact point in time between pact and ward where wildbow went insane (<- twig reference) from dealing with a bat infestation and forgor how to write :(

dont apologize it's a win for me if people enjoy when im doing haterism. providing catharsis and validation to other people who have also ascertained that twig has fucking Problems. ill have to elaborate after i read more and eat something but i agree that the first 13 arcs are flawed but fun enough for me to want to keep reading (although sloggy enough at times that i probably wouldn't have sped through or put effort into it if not for the timing of doing it immersively i.e. after surgery with little else to do) and then from there on out it's been kind of a slope downhill where any redeeming parts aren't enough to make up for the fact that wb fucked up on something really important. like the first 13 or so are generally Meh at worst with plenty of chapters i really liked a lot sprinkled in, but from 14 on out the lows are a lot lower and are Actively Terrible Writing Decisions, while it also retains a tendency to be Meh, so the occasional good chapter or scene is no longer enough to pull its weight and tip the scales towards a more generous rating