#honestly i don't feel that much guilt over some of those

[mrabubu]

Leo just came back from his "trip" across the universe, all beaten up and tired, only to find out that Splinter already passed away.

But, honestly, this comic spoke to me a little more personally. I'm going to leave some of my thoughts under the cut.

Uh, I guess trigger warning on mentions of death? And some personal experience.

So, I basically went through the same as Leo, and less than a year ago found out that my father passed away. My situation is more complicated, but I still know the feelings your going through in this situation, when the realization strikes you, when you feel grief, regret, when you blame yourself for not being with your parent, when you're denied from being able to say goodbye and have to live with this feeling. And, in my case, I even blamed my father at some point.

I won't go into much details, just will say that I haven't been in touch with my father in years. He wasn't a bad person, he wasn't a drunk, he never did anything bad to anyone, he was... Complicated. And this all lead to one episode after which he stopped communicating with me.

In short, his pride was more important to him than me (at least, this is how it felt), he wanted to teach me a lesson. And years after, after he probably realized the mistake he made, he wasn't able to make himself to finally talk to me again because it was too late.

And I was... Angry? Hurt? Because I felt like I was left to deal with my mother and other things alone. I felt like I didn't matter to him, despite the good moments. I still live with these feelings and thoughts of guilt, and will live with them till the end of my life, knowing he passed away with no one around him.

I'm not angry at him, I mean, it's pointless? It won't change anything. Time's already lost. I only feel this grief over us both not being able to make the first move and try to fix everything between us.

Despite how things turned out I still remember those good episodes with him when I was a kid, when he would come from work late and despite my mother's complaining, we would spend at least an hour together watching a TV in my room.

Why am I writing all this? Not sure, maybe to leave a little message about not loosing the moment? Because human life is short, and you have only one chance.

You don't have Mystic Mikey to send you back in time and fix everything.

And I just think about how Rise makes me relate to a character more and more...

[landossnorriss]

i see you | ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she.

Summary: a new voice appears on the radio to get lando through the end of the hungary race. part 2 here.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: we've taken some liberties on whose allowed on the team radio ok? i'm in mourning. this is also my first time writing for f1 or lando so >.>

-------------------------------

the small crackle in his ear was a sure sign that someone was about to patronise him again. for years, for years he had bled for mclaren. he'd turned down calls from horner and the men in red, he'd turned his nose to them every single time and now he finally had a chance to put a closer dent in his gap on the world championship and they just wanted him to give it up. it wasn't fair, oscar couldn't even keep up he was the fastes-

"lan?" the quiet voice that appeared in his ear shocked him, his frown forming in his helmet.

"love? now they're using you to get to me?" he scoffed at the thought, his foot on the throttle a little harder as he made his way around turn 11. fuck the team orders, they couldn't do this to him.

for her part, his girl could feel the guilt eating at her chest. "i think so." she'd wanted to smack will when he had looked at her pleadingly from the garage. "but you tell me right now, if you want this win and i'll fight will for the radio for the rest of the race, i'll be out of here so quick and i'll cut them off, give you the time you need." she offered and lando knew she meant it. his girl was quiet, preferred to stay out of the lime light and would always pick his jolly over the flash cars he had, but when it came down to it she was scrappy.

a small smile appeared on the racers face as he thought about the sight, honestly he hoped she managed to trip will and cause some momentary damage. noting he had gone quiet she let her head drop a little, eyes closing as she tried to imagine was going through his head. "my love...can you look at him in the morning if you don't let him past now?" she asked quietly, ignoring the glares that were surrounding her in the pit wall.

"it's a win baby, i need to prove that i can win on my own after miami and i need...i need those points for the championship."

"so drive, put your throttle down lan, drive and don't stop till the flag if you can live with being that man, but i know you and i love you and i'll love you regardless of what you chose right now but i also know you and this won't be winning on your own merit, this will haunt you my love and he'd do it for you, you know he'd do it for you."

lando paused again, swallowing as he rounded the corner. "you'd love me even if i took the win?"

"even then." and now she was pretty sure will was going to murder her if she ever surrendered this radio, at the very least, andreas was never letting her back in the garage.

"you'll love me more if i give osc the spot back?" he hated how unsure his voice sounded as he asked the question and her heart broke for him over how much she knew he would tare into himself later.

"no lando, my love for you isn't based on what you do in that car, not ever, its the man that comes home to me i care about." chewing on her lip she let her gaze flicker to the monitors. "the pit lane straight is coming up..." the comment hung in the air between them and she watched as it happened, 6 seconds, 5.3 seconds, 4 seconds - lando was letting him past.

"you're my winner lando." she whispered softly into the radio, silently wiping the tear that fell at his act. the look of relief around the pit wall was enough to make her guilt grow even more, at what they had cost lando today, what they had made her do. if they could just get their damn strategies right he wouldn't have been put in this position in the first place, he'd had been free to race as he came out behind oscar but instead she would piece together the pieces they threatened to break again as she took care of him tonight.

"i love you so much." lando urged as he watched oscar fly past him, his heart stopping for a moment before his foot found the throttle again. he didn't want to hear wills voice again, not right now and they could make it through two more laps without his help anyway. "will you stay with me for the rest of the race?" he asked because wins and races could come and go so long as he had her.

her eyes flickered to andreas on the wall from where she knew he was listening, watching as he nodded. "confirmed norris, i'm with you till the end." they didn't say much as he finished his race but she kept the line open with him. if the rest of the world would have something to say about the lovers simply existing together for the next two minutes then let them, she was the only one who saw him sometimes she was sure, the only one who knew what he had just done would be doing to him inside.

the chequered flag came and she checked the screens once more before making the call. "that's p2 baby, p2, you know what to do from here." sliding from her chair she didn't bother to take the head set off as she made her way through the garage and out through the pit lane to where she knew lando would soon be parking. she was easy to spot with the bright yellow merch she wore, forever a lando girl over mclaren and her eyes shiny as she watched her man move to congratulate oscar. it left a bitter taste in her mouth, that the win would be tainted by shitty team orders but she'd get to celebrating with oscar later once she knew her driver was ok.

she continued to chew at her lip as lando removed his helmet, the green eyes she knew so well looking around for her and she let her smile return at the way his shoulder visibly relaxed at the sight of her. lando was slow to move, not wanting to risk any more hate that he already knew he was going to get but there was only one thing he wanted right now. the hands he felt cupping his face, an instant sanctuary for the male. "i see you lan." the soft words that meant more to him than even love would.

leaning forward lando let the gap between them close, his lips find hers softly for a moment. normally she would pull away and scald him, knowing just how many cameras were in this pit lane to capture the moment but he needed her more now than she needed to shrink into the shadows. "i'm so damn proud of you." she whispered against his lips, fingers finding the damp curls at the back of his head and her chest settling now that she could hold him once more.

he'd never been as good with words as she had, always seemingly saying the same thing but he wanted to try, for her. "you mean more to me than all this you know?" he could already hear the people calling his name for media duties and as tempting as it was to just face the fines, grab his girl and vanish, lando knew that it would be better for the team if he saved them face. all the blood he'd lost for them still had to count for something right? taking a final second to lock in her face, lando lent forward for a final singular kiss. "i'll see you in my drivers room." he promised before he stepped away.

with a small nod she moved back, eyes filled with tears once more as he stepped up to take the mike from nico and he demonstrated once more why he was the man she adored. racing could continue to test him all it wanted, but she would be the anchor whilst he weathered any storm for as long as he needed her.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x plus-sized!fem!reader

Summary: When you overhear some of James's friends comment on your weight, James comforts you.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort 🤧💗

Warnings: insecurities, bullying over someone's weight, reader's weight is heavily implied (obviously), crying, swearing, protective!James <3

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You hear a snarl, "Did you see what she had for dinner?" Andy laughs loudly, "It isn't surprising she's fat, huh?"

Your heart sinks.

Benjamin hums in approval and adds, "I wonder what James even sees in her."

Their words echo around your head as you twist and turn your way around tables to find James again. He's laughing like a little boy when you see him, his smile so wide it's almost obnoxious as he rests his arm on top of your empty chair.

His cheeks look dusted pink from the wine he'd drank. He's so handsome, you think, and when you see the cake you had wanted earlier your cheeks become warm.

Quiet as a mouse, you slide into your chair and James turns to send you a grin. You send him a weak smile in return and then look down at the small plate in front of you. Raspberry Cheesecake. Your favorite. You look around. None of the other girlfriends have ordered any desserts.

You glance nervously at James again. He's chatting with his friends and he looks so happy. He's been so generous to you all evening, letting you pick anything on the menu because yes this was his teams' celebratory dinner, but as your boyfriend he wouldn't even think of letting you pay for yourself.

Guilt hits you hard. While his teammates girlfriends' had ordered lighter meals, you honestly didn't think much of it when you ordered a larger one. You didn't have the chance to have lunch, and those french fries sounded incredibly delicious.

You pick up your spoon and immediately, your lower lip trembles. Quickly, you sink your teeth into it and the pain soothes your sudden need to burst into embarrassed tears. When James's hand comes to your thigh, a gesture so mundane for him, you jump.

James turns his head and leans in closer to your ear, "What's wrong, darling?" he asks in a whisper, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. When you don't respond like you usually do by leaning in closer to him, he pulls away and looks at you seriously. His eyes bounce around all your features as if he's trying to understand if you're injured or upset.

"It's nothing," you mumble and look at your plate, "I'm just not hungry anymore."

James frowns. "Are you sure? I know this is your favorite," he winks with a teasing smile, recalling how happy you looked when you saw it on the menu.

You nod, freezing when you hear Andy and Benjamin walk back from the restroom. When they sit next to their girlfriends: their gorgeous, slim, girlfriends, you want to wither away as you suddenly feel like an elephant in the same maroon velvet dress you'd felt so pretty in earlier.

Immediately sensing your discomfort, James's smile disappears. He turns to his teammates and then glances at you as he takes your hand, squeezing it. "I'll get you a box, my love. And then I'll pay and we can go home, mmhm?" he says but you shake your head.

"No, you can finish your dinner, Jamie," you insist, your voice small. You don't want to ruin this for him.

James doesn't listen because soon, he's helping you out of your chair, your cheesecake in a box in his hand, as he says his goodbyes to his friends. You feel Andy and Benjamin staring as you leave and, on instinct, you let James walk further in front of you so you don't embarrass him.

However, James's arm links around your waist and moves you in closer to him the moment the fresh evening air hits your skin. You bump into his chest and feel the familiar warmth of his lips press against your temple as he inhales your scent.

"I love you," he says.

You don't answer, instead curling your arms around your stomach protectively. James drops his hand and asks, "Hey, are you cold, lovely?"

You stay quiet again, opting to chew on the inside of your cheek.

James takes your elbow and spins you around so you're facing him. You can't look him in the eyes as your arms hug around you. James gently moves you so you're boxed into the building and his arm as he bends his head to you a little.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened? Talk to me," he holds your chin in his hand and makes you look at him. When he sees how glossy your eyes are, his heart breaks. "Oh, love," his voice is smooth and you can hear the sadness in his words.

At this, you can't help the tears that rapidly cascade down your cheeks. You try wiping them with your palm so he won't see them but it's no use because James has already taken you into his arms and you're practically sobbing into his chest now. You feel him inhale sharply as his hand strokes the back of your head, his fingers intertwining into your hair. He's cooing small, confused, praises into your ear as he holds you.

You can hear in his voice that he doesn't understand, "Baby, please, what happened?" he asks again and his heart shatters even more when he hears your hiccuped cry.

You shake your head into his chest.

I wonder what James even sees in her.

Benjamin's words won't leave your mind and the tears continue to fall.

"Is it something I did? Because if it is, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry I'm making you cry."

You pull away hearing this, shaking your head more frantically as snot runs down your nose. "No James, it's not y-you." You whimper and James uses his free hand to thumb at the tears near your eyes.

"Then what happened?" he asks again.

You look away, suddenly embarrassed, "I- am I- I too fat for you?"

The question is immediately followed by a deafening silence as James's hand slides from your cheeks. You can see his eyes bounce around your face, searching for any sign that you're making a joke. He can't imagine you actually mean what you've just asked him.

"Y/n, why would you ask me that?!" James manages to ask. He sounds upset.

Your lip trembles and the tears resume, "Some of your friends," You start and James's eyes narrow, "I - I heard them make some comments about what I had for dinner and h-how you deserve someone prettier, slimmer and — "

"Who said that?" James interrupts you, his voice stern.

"I mean, they didn't say it in those exact words."

"Who was it, Y/n?" James repeats. He couldn't give any fucks what exactly his friend had said, all he needed to know was that whatever those assholes had said it made you cry, no sob, into his chest.

"It doesn't matter," you sniff, looking away from your boyfriend, "They're right. You deserve someone better than me, someone prettier. You're way out of my league. I have always known that," you force out a heartbroken laugh.

James's voice breaks. "How can you say that?"

He holds your cheek in his hand. Your cheeks warm up as your eyes widen, surprised by the passion and emotion in his movements as James plants a sloppy kiss on your forehead.

He sprinkles kisses all across your face. "Fuck, I love you. I don't want anyone else," His hand slides under your chin and tilts your head up just slightly so he can make sure you're looking at him again. "I'm the one who doesn't deserve to call someone as beautiful and kind as you, mine." He kisses your lips delicately.

You clutch at James's arm, voice shaky when you ask, "So you don't think I'm too fat,"

James shakes his head instantly and presses his forehead against yours, "Oh baby, no. You aren't. There is no such thing when love is involved. I love you like this and I'll love you whatever you decide to look like in the future."

You let him hold you, nuzzling into him as finally your tears start to calm. James's body is warm and it sends goosebumps up your skin. "I love you," you whisper, wanting to hear him say it too.

James doesn't hesitate, "I love you. I absolutely adore you," his lips find your cheek and he kisses you again. He pulls away and looks into your eyes. "Please don't cry like this again, you don't know how much it breaks my heart," his hand comes to push some hair away from your eyes. "Now, can you tell me who put those stupid ideas in your head so I know who I have to beat up?"

You can tell he's only half joking and you chuckle. "I promise it doesn't matter."

"Matters to me," He grumbles but doesn't push you to answer. He turns you around and pulls you in closer by your waist as he continues to walk you home.

Once you arrive at your apartment, you convince James to stay the night – or rather you ask since it didn't take much convincing at all.

As you sit on the couch, waiting for him to come so you can start your movie, James walks into the room with your cheesecake and a spoon. You look up, a small smile curling your lips.

"I said I wasn't hungry," you move over and let him sit next to you.

"Oh shush," James rolls his eyes and hands you the plate. He knows you too well for that excuse. You take the plate into your lap and then reach for the spoon.

James makes a tsk noise and holds it away from you. You pout. "Nuhuh, in this relationship we share," he says, grinning, and lowers his hand in front of you. With a click of metal, just like a magician, he reveals another spoon behind yours and you smirk.

"Prick," you mutter and snatch one of the spoons from him. Despite your insult, you adjust your position so James can easily access the cheesecake.

You turn away from him and take a mouthful as you exaggerate a moan and James scoots closer. He does the same and he also grins.

"Delicious," he says and looks at you. With his spoon, he gently taps your nose. "You have some here, love," he teases as if he isn't the one who just smudged cheesecake all over you.

You lean in and playfully rub your nose over his shirt, which earns a groan as James tries to push you away. "Hey! I like this shirt," he whines.

"You can wash it tomorrow, don't be a baby," you tease him. With a smirk, James takes the plate from you and moves it further from your reach. You frown. "And don't take the cheesecake hostage because you're angry with me."

You reach over to take another spoonful of the dessert, however James intercepts your actions as he swoops under your arm and kisses you.

You laugh into his mouth and feel James grin against your lips. He pulls away and he sounds more serious when he smiles and says, "Next time I want to celebrate just us, mm? Just like this," he kisses you again.

You smile. "That I can do. Now hand over the cheesecake now, or I swear I'll – " James interrupts you with yet another kiss, which earns him one of those giggles he loves so much.

[tragedy-of-commons]

"Do you ever think about that drunken kiss we shared?" + Dan Heng

"Do you ever think about that drunken kiss we shared?"

Dan Heng thinks you're trying to kill him.

Yes, that must be it, he lets the swarm of butterflies flapping around in his gut reason for a little too long. Surely, you're an assassin sent to kill him, cunningly playing the long game - only to one day give him a heart attack so he'll croak and you can collect your money.

(Honestly, he'd rather you don't drag the process out. But Dan Heng has never taken you for merciful, and your entirely evil expression only serves to confirm that hunch.)

The tips of his ears burn red. "Why do you insist on bringing that up?"

"Come on," you huff, elbowing him in the side with no real force, "you gotta answer the question, love. And keeping record of the past is always a good thing, right? You're always wading knee-deep in the archives, so I'm sure you'd understand."

There you are with your strange comparisons and too-close-but-not-too-close-since-you're-dating pet names. Even so, how in the world is he supposed to respond? Honesty cannot be the best policy, not when his answer will be something along the lines of 'Yes, I do think about that kiss often. Almost everyday, in fact, considering it's the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

But Dan Heng doesn't say any of that (of course he doesn't). Instead, his gaze drops back down to the table where you're both currently sitting - where he'd been mindlessly scrolling through his messages moments before you decided to throw him off kilter. It's way too early for this.

You continue to babble on, taking his silence as the admission of guilt that it is. "We were running around the Luofu, those Knight people hot on our tails, but after my work on your genius disguise, I finally convinced you to lighten up and have some fun. I dragged you to that stall, remember?"

How could he forget? Even when his past was nipping at his heels and ready to take a wolfish bite out of him, you'd found a way to insist on all play and no work. Even more debasing, he went along with it.

"I remember. You... the shopkeeper sold us that bottle, and since it was broad daylight in a nice area, we assumed it was nonalcoholic and just... drank it, right there in the central square," Dan Heng recalls.

You laugh, loud and bright. He feels like vomiting from the mortification he's constantly subjected to in your presence.

"Yeah! It didn't even taste alcoholic. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice anything sooner - you're normally pretty sharp. We started getting suspicious after all those nasty looks, though..."

He remembers that too, but what you neglect to mention, thank the stars and everything that hasn't screwed him over, is that he was completely and utterly distracted. Dan Heng isn't one for such flowery language, but from his only somewhat muddled recollection, he was totally entranced.

It was probably his overlooked inebriation, but he found himself fixated on the plush of your lips. As you rambled on about how pretty the scenery was, he could only think about how pretty you were. As much as you'd disagree with him, he isn't as oblivious as to have ignored all the signs of his growing fondness for you.

The mystery alcohol gave him the push he needed then. For just a moment, Dan Heng wishes he had some liquid courage right now to get through this hellish conversation. "Yes. Everything was warm, and I kissed you."

You gasp, scandalized. The table wobbles as you kick your feet up to rest on the polished wood, somehow lax. "Hey, give yourself some credit! Even when you were practically wasted, you still did that cheesy romance movie thing and asked for permission."

His eye jumps. Aeons above. "I wasn't aware asking for consent was a 'cheesy romance movie thing'."

"I'm not talking about that," you snort, getting that look on your face when you're about to lay down a trump card of some kind, destroying the many layers of defenses he's spent the entirety of this life painstakingly building up. "I'm talking about when you tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes! You've never been that romantic since! Oh, Dan Heng, what a heartthrob you were, a real dreamboat--"

He whispers your name, voice brittle like glass.

"Sorry," you say, the apology quite genuine by your standards. The teasing grin you sported moments earlier has all but disappeared, replaced by a soft smile that makes all of the theatrics worth it. "But I can't help but reminisce. I cherish the memory dearly, you know."

Dan Heng swallows. "I know. I do too."

He does. Hopefully, one day, he'll be able to surprise you like that again. As you take his hand in yours, both of you falling back into comfortable silence, electricity crackles inside the confines of his chest.

Yes, you're surely going to be the death of him.

(Like he'd have it any other way.)

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren, @https-sourlimes

a/n: anon, i fear you've killed everything i know and love... i adored this prompt and writing it! dan heng is a special kind of soggy and i hope i did him justice.

event post here

[chronicowboy]

Maddie humbles him pretty severely in their conversation. Look, he knows it's stupid, knows it's selfish really, knows it's just plain crappy of him. But. But he hurt Christopher. And there wasn't some big uncontrollable variable like a tsunami that Eddie can explain it away with.

Sure, it was an accident, but it still happened. Sure, it was only a few scrapes that he'd cleaned up almost immediately with the little first aid kit tucked into the glove compartment of his Jeep - and, well, maybe part of the guilt is the way Christopher had grimaced at the added sting of the antiseptic wipes. But he'd done it. He'd made Christopher cry. And he'd ran as soon as Eddie swept in to take care of him. He'd ran before either of them could tell him to get out.

Christopher is injured, and Buck hasn't been to see him once. Christopher is injured because of Buck, and he's only checked in through a much too knowing Eddie. Because he's a coward, especially when it comes to Christopher. Jesus, nothing in the world scares him more than Christopher. Everything's so big and inconceivable with him. Buck feels it all, feels it all so strongly. The things he'd do for that kid... Well, that scares him too. Almost as much as Christopher's anger does, but he can't run from it forever. He can't stay away forever, so he shoots Eddie a quick text as he leaves Maddie's.

Can I come see Chris at some point?

He's just buckling himself into the driver's seat when his phone buzzes with a reply.

Get over here

Another buzz.

Now

His already knotted stomach twists into an even more complex shape as he turns the key in the ignition, but he has to face the music some time or another. May as well be now.

It takes him an inordinately long and nauseating time to get to the Diaz door, an even longer time to actually knock and then a terrifyingly short amount of time for Eddie to be appearing before him with those big, understanding eyes he can never seem to escape.

"Hi," he mumbles, suddenly struck with what image he must make out there on the porch. A naughty dog with a guiltily hung head and a tail between his legs just waiting to be patted on the head and told he's forgiven.

"Buck, come in." Eddie rolls his eyes and practically drags him inside. Buck had been about ninety-nine per cent sure (okay, maybe more like eighty) that Eddie's texts had been fond exasperation and not actual anger, but it's not until he hears Eddie's voice that he knows for sure. He was never a bad dog in Eddie's mind. Buck's tail wags just a little as Eddie leans back against the hallway wall with his arms folded over his chest. "He's in his room and he misses his Buck."

"Even after I almost killed him?" he mutters petulantly.

"Buck, you tripped over his crutches. The both of you went down and, honestly, you walked away worse than he did." Buck opens his mouth to argue, but Eddie ploughs on. "Don't lie to me. I saw those bruises on your ribs last shift. I know how weaponised those elbows can become."

"I'm fine."

"So is he," Eddie says seriously. "You know how many times I've tripped over his crutches?"

"Did you feel guilty about it afterwards?" Buck pries, eyes trained on his shoes where they kick lightly, sheepishly at the carpet.

"Of course, I did. I always do. Hell, I accidentally got some salt in his eyes when we were cooking the other day and I almost took myself down to Athena's station." Eddie shakes his head, unimpressed. "I'm his dad, I'd send him outside in a bubble wrap suit if I could. But I've been informed that isn't 'cool'," Buck snorts, "so I'm trying my best to make peace with the fact that that he's going to get hurt and I'm not always going to be stop it. But." Eddie steps closer, drops a hand to Buck's shoulder, ducks his hand to catch his eye. And Buck feels the echo of a wave and three ragged scratches across his face. "But I can always be there after it happens, to pick him back up and tend to his wounds, yeah?"

"Yeah," Buck whispers, nodding against the whirring of his brain.

"He's already mostly healed up. Go and see for yourself." Eddie leaves with a pointed look at Christopher's door, and Buck stays staring down the hallway like he can will it into something that feels a little less like a walk on the plank.

As he takes his first step, for just a moment, he wishes he was back in the endless labyrinthine hallways of his coma dream just to postpone his fate a little longer.

See, what he hadn't told Maddie was that he had actually tried texting Christopher a few days after their tumble. A sorry and an I hope you're okay and a jokey maybe we should leave basketball to the pros which had only gleaned a thumbs up emoji in response. So, he's not feeling very optimistic when he knocks on Christopher's door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Buck, buddy." Silence. A sigh maybe, if he strains. "C-can I come in?"

Another pause.

"Fine."

Buck pushes into the room with his heart in his throat. Christopher doesn't look up from his textbook where he's propped up against his headboard, just carries on reading. Buck approaches carefully, hovering at the end of the bed where he'd normally just sit.

"How are you doing?" he asks uselessly.

"Fine."

"Yeah?" Christopher only shrugs, and Buck sighs in defeat. "I'm really sorry, bud. I didn't mean to do it, you have to know that. I'd never ever do anything to hurt you-"

"Wait." Chris finally looks up from his book with his frown. "Do you think I'm mad because you tripped me up?"

"I-I, well, yeah." Buck blinks. "So, you are mad?"

"Yeah, I'm mad, but not about that." Chris groans and slams his book shut. "Why'd you disappear?"

"B-because I thought you'd be mad at me for, you know, hurting you," Buck says dumbly. Christopher rolls his eyes so similarly to Eddie's earlier expression that Buck aches with it.

"You didn't hurt me. Gravity hurt us."

"But you're mad at me."

"Because you disappeared!" Chris bursts. Buck's mouth snaps shut with a click. "Everything's changing. You and me and dad barely ever hang out anymore. And I know I'm getting older, so I shouldn't want to, but I do. But you're both dating, so it's always just the one of you. Or the three of us and a stranger. And I hate it. And the last time this happened, you promised you weren't going anywhere, but you did! And I want you both to be happy, and I really don't want dad to feel so lonely now I'm growing up, but I wish..." Christopher ducks his head as if suddenly realising he'd revealed too much.

"You wish?" Buck asks on the exhale of a breath he'd been holding since Christopher's little outburst, something fierce and jagged latching itself to his sternum.

"I wish you both could be happy with..." He shrinks into himself a little, and Buck wraps his hand around the footboard like a lifeline - like whatever Christopher is about to say will turn the world upside down. "I wish this was enough. I wish the three of us could make you both as happy as-as it makes me." He flushes and cracks his textbook open. "It sounds dumb when I say it."

"No, no," Buck croaks, something big and unwieldy expanding against the inside of his ribs, something that could choke him if he let it. "It doesn't sound dumb at all."

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I know you made shorts for Sora, Riku, and Kairi, but do you have any other thoughts about Kingdom Hearts?

Ik this is kinda vauge and you get these kind of asks all the goddamn time, but I hyperfixated on those games for most of elementary and middle school and its always cool to see your favorite Youtuber talk about stuff you really like. Not to guilt trip you into answering this one or anything, just. . . I'm very tired and it would be very cool lol.

Again, saving my character design thoughts for some more shorts, but I adore Kingdom Hearts. Like, the first game really ISN'T much more than a cross-promotional branding exercise for Disney and Square, same as any of a dozen other similar crossover centric franchises; it's a Saturday morning cartoon show that wants to get you invested (or keep you invested) in a bunch of fancy IPs to buy toys of, but it's a really good one of those.

And it's a game that understands that the central thing that's going to hook people IN to that kind of thing is characters that are willing to believe in what they've got going on with one thousand percent sincerity. Which I think is the thing they nailed more than anything. Sora cares SO MUCH, and he wants to find his friend and his love interest (Kairi and Riku, respectively) SO BADLY, you can't help but root for the poor kid and want to believe in it.

Then, with the first game successfully managing to hook a solid fanbase, the creative team went "hey what if we had even MORE extremely earnest cool anime people getting deep in their feelings?" and now we're off to the races with Organizations and Oblivion Castles and fractions of 358 days.

And the thing that makes all the hyper-convoluted wheels-within-wheels plot machination nonsense WORK is that down, deep down, right at the core of what the franchise is always trying to say, is that love will save us. Yeah yeah hearts and darkness and unversed and nobodies and keyblades and blah blah blah (to be clear: I adore all that nonsense), but all of it is top-to-bottom in service of that singular central thematic clarion call.

Love will save us.

What holds Ventus together after Xehanort tears his heart apart? The love of Sora. What keeps Roxas the nobody from fading into Sora? The love of Xion and Axel, and Hayner, Pence and Olette. What brings Xion back? The love of Axel and Roxas. Hearts ring together and resonate and bind themselves to each other and there is no darkness so deep, no tragedy so absolute, no villain so foul that the cry of a loving heart cannot defeat it.

Roxas is a nobody doomed to darkness? Fuck you, Kingdom Hearts is love, no he isn't. Xion is a mere replica puppet, a failed experiment that nobody will remember? >>EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER<< get seasalt icecream'd on top of a clock tower at sunset, IDIOT.

Over and over again characters sink into despair and loneliness, they fear that their connections are fake or fading, they fear being forgotten or left behind (Riku in the first game, the breaking of Ventus, Aqua and Terra, Roxas thinking nobody would miss him, Aqua in the Realm of Darkness), and over and over again they are proven beautifully wrong. There is always a hand reaching out, there is always someone who will miss you. Love will save us.

And this absolutely gets hokey, of course it does, it's a saturday morning children's cartoon. It's a bit simplistic, maybe a bit naïve, but honestly in a world where you can't walk two steps without bleak-minded doomer cynicism forcing the assumption that nothing truly good is possible and that the worst will always happen, Kingdom Hearts is a story so absolutely drenched in hope, sincerely held, that it feels like a fucking balm.

Also, LITERALLY where the fuck else are you going to get Woody from Toy Story reading an edgy anime villain for absolute filth? Nowhere, that's where. ONLY Kingdom Hearts.

None of this is to suggest I don't have criticisms of the franchise or that it's faultless. I could talk for several hours unbroken about all my gripes and problems, chief among which is LET KAIRI DO THINGS OH MY FUCKING GOD the franchise is low key misogynistic towards its female characters sometimes but I am talking about the things I love here let me just be happy for a second.

[dotster001]

Those are the Eyes...

Summary: Jack Howl x gn! Reader. Jack discovers a new magic that will finally free you from those who wish to use you. (It's not that serious. He's just being Jack)

CW: Crowley is an ass, but what else is new, silly fic, nothing serious

This fic was sponsored, for the Fics for Gaza Project! Find out how you can sponsor a fic here.

Jack was sick of you getting pulled into terrible situations by your other friends. When the two of you had started dating, he had hoped he would have a little more sway when it came to your decisions of whether to listen to an ADeuce idea or not, but he had had no such luck so far. 

And it wasn't just them. You were too kind to everyone in this school often at the expense of your own well being.

"Y/N! We haaaave to add more money to the tuna budget."

You looked exasperated. "Grim, I've already told you, we've put all the money we can into the tuna budget."

Grim pouted and crossed his arms. "Do we really need to fix the stairwell this month? I think it's fine the way it is."

It wasn't. Honestly, Ramshackle should have been condemned in the shape it was in.

"Yes, Grim, we really do," you sighed.

Grim suddenly held a paw to his forehead. "Oh! The Great Grim feels faint!" He fell backwards and whimpered. "I'm starving because of my cruel Hench human. I may die right here."

"You're not starving Grim, your tuna budget is fine," Jack finally cut in. But when he looked over at you, he could see that you were going to cave.

And then it happened. It came from deep down inside of him, like a second unique magic. His pupils expanded, his eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and his bottom lip stuck out in a little pout.

Suddenly, the look on your face changed. You looked at him with concern.

"Aw, c'mon Jack, don't give me those puppy dog eyes!"

But his face held his expression, and now his tail was drooping for good measure. "It would just tear me up inside if you weren't able to live in a safe environment, Y/N."

That did it for you. You placed your hands on his cheeks and hastily exclaimed, "If it means that much to you, I won't change the tuna budget." You hugged him and nuzzled into his chest whispering a "sorry". Which was fine, because it meant you didn't see his tail wagging up a storm.

He had thought maybe it was a fluke. But after running a few experiments, he realized you were weak for what you called his "puppy dog eyes". No longer could Ace get you to paint the roses for him. No longer could Ruggie get you to give him some of your lunch for nothing. No longer could Grim guilt you into buying more tuna than you needed. Finally, the two of you didn't have to play parents to everyone and you could spend time together.

But with great power comes great responsibility.

He was sitting in Azul's office, sizing him up across the desk.

"What did you want from me?" He asked finally.

Azul gestured dramatically. "There's a rumor going around that you can make a certain prefect do whatever you want."

He snapped his fingers and Jade pulled out a contract.

"I am prepared to offer you…."

But before he could even finish the offer, Jack was leaving the room.

It wasn't a one off thing.

"Ay, Jack!" Ruggie sidled up next to him on the way to class. "You think you can do me a solid? See, I have a lot of chores to do for Leona, and I was hoping you could ask Y/N to…"

And Jack was gone again.

The headmage had summoned Jack to his office. He placed a plate of delicious food in front of him, and was staring at him with a serene smile on his face.

Jack did not trust that one bit.

The headmage leaned back in his chair, simply watching Jack. Jack stared back, not touching his plate.

“Mr. Howl, I was hoping you could help me with a situation. I, and the entirety of the student body, will be eternally grateful.”

Jack said nothing, continuing to stare. Normally, he would assist the headmage in any way, his sense of honor always looking for a way to help the school. But, with the recent attempts to use his new ability for selfish ends, he was extremely suspicious.

“I have called the prefect in for a meeting. You see, it's the time of year where the dark mirror provides us a list of names for potential incoming students. I need a secretary, who will write down the list of names, compile the addresses, send out the acceptance letters, etc. etc. You understand, surely.”

Crowley leaned in conspiratorially, a sly grin on his face.

“You will help me convince them to take on this task, for the sake of our esteemed university, won't you?”

Jack stood angrily, slamming his hands on the table as he leaned into Crowley's face.

“This power I have been given is strong. And if I waste it on things that are to the detriment of my partner, then I do not deserve to even be with them.”

Crowley's smirk turned down right sinister.

“A shame, truly. Too bad. Because they are already here.”

A knock rang from the door, and Jack's head whipped over in time to see you walk in. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, and Jack had to fight off the embarrassment of not having anywhere to hide his wagging tail.

“Perfect, welcome! Have a seat!” Crowley said, and Jack felt a guilty sense of pride as the light left your eyes upon hearing his voice.

You walked to the empty seat next to where Jack was standing, taking it. You raised a brow expectantly.

“What do you want, headmage?” You asked tiredly.

And Jack knew he couldn't simply be a witness. If he couldn't protect you from one crow, then what was his new magic ability for?

“I need you to be my full time secretary until the end of the school year-”

“Am I getting paid?” You asked, bluntly.

“No, but-”

“Then no.”

At that moment, Jack realized he was not the only one with a secondary unique magic that was capable of manipulating you. Crowley's expression shifted into one of a cruel, terrifying, debt collector.

“Night Raven College is an esteemed university, one that is exclusive to only the best mages. And yet we have provided you with a home, and an invaluable education. All for free. The least repayment you can give is selflessly serving our university.”

He watched as you deflated. The truth was, you'd become invaluable to NRC. There was no reason Crowley would logically kick you out, especially for a job he had done alone for years before you had popped into this world. He was bluffing.

But the move was working. You were opening your mouth to accept the job, when Jack knelt before you, placing his hands on your leg to get your attention. Then he activated his power.

Your mouth instantly closed, your expression shifting to one of distracted adoration at his “puppy dog eyes”. 

“The budget we would need to hire a secretary will, unfortunately, have to come out of the renovation budget for Ramshackle.”

Your face immediately flicked back up to Crowley. Jack had underestimated how strong Crowley's powers were. The crow had had years to grow his abilities, while Jack had only had a few months.

Jack pawed at your leg, forcing his ears to droop as he intensified his “magic”.  Your look of dejection melted, your lips parting in a silent “aw”. 

“We may even have to get rid of an extra student. Providing for two of you is an unnecessary expense, to the board.”

You whipped back to Crowley, but Jack knew that was his last card. But if he smiled smugly now, he would lose. So he dug deep within himself, pulling at an inner supply of strength.

His pupils expanded even further, glitter and hearts filled the air, and he watched your face split into a dopey grin, your hand moving on it's own to scratch behind his ears.

“Sorry headmage, I don't think I can,” you said, your voice sounding loopy and lovesick.

The headmage scowled, but Jack held firm, the sparkles and hearts floating in the air twirling for good measure.

“Fine. You win this round Howl. But, next time, I'll be prepared for you! Mark my words!” Crowley shouted.

Luckily, you were too caught in Jack's spell to even hear his words, as he escorted you from the room.

You were halfway to the mirror chamber to return to Ramshackle, when you turned to him, cupping his cheeks, and exclaiming,

“Sevens! You just look so cute!” Then you kissed the tip of his nose.

His embarrassment caused him to drop the puppy eyes spell. He looked away, rubbing his neck for something to distract himself. When he looked up, you were blinking in confusion.

“Where am I? I thought I was in Crowley's office. How did I get out here?”

Now he was more embarrassed. He'd gone too hard, too quickly, with his magic.

He was about to apologize, when you smiled at him sweetly.

“Wait, it was my perfect, handsome wolf who protected me, right?”

Oh.

Oh no.

He wasn't the only one with magic to make someone lovesick.

....

Tag list- @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @strawberrystepmom

Lemme know if you want to be added to my regular tag list. I lost my original list, so this is just the one I could find.

[pressureplus]

HEYA HELLO HI

first, i want to genuinely thank you guys for the account's existence and your hard work. reading through the posts is often the highlight of my bleak days, and im immensely grateful for you providing those moments of joy :]

SECOND UH ID LIKE TO ORDER A SPECIFIC KINDA HEADCANONS LIST IF NO ONE MINDS AND IT HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN ALREADY ALRIGHT YEAH

a nonbinary reader who is pretty similar to Seb's stubborn, independent and sassy persona but WOMP WOMP, they're suddenly head over heels for him. NEITHER WANTS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FEELINGS (aka "HE'S FUCKING MARRIED, IT'S NOT MUTUAL AND IM BUSY WITH NOT DYING, BUT I CANT GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD" & "I HAVE A WIFE AND THEY'RE JUST SOME EXPENDABLE BASTARD, GET OVER IT, SOLACE"). the distracting, unnecessary, painful pining. how do both cope and who's gonna break first? and most importantly, is either gonna throw their ego and rationality out the window to confess despite the fear of looking pathetic?

oooof i hope it's not too much and it's not breaking any rules. thank you in advance if you find it interesting enough for writing! :D

Awww, thanks so much! Although I should make it very clear the wife in question will remain vague and is NOT BASED ON ANYONE! Thanks for the request ❤️

♡Married! Sebastian Solace x NB! Similar! Reader Headcannons♡

Warnings: Sebastian is Married and Y/N is technically an Affair Partner

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had found you interesting from the moment you opened your mouth and got sassy with him, mostly because most people don't have the balls to do it

Despite finding this slightly irritating, he also found it refreshing, so he didn't immediately shoot you if only for his own entertainment

A terrible mistake he'd soon find out

He developed some definitely unhealthy feelings the first time one of your comebacks had an almost flirtatious undertone

It was an accident on your part, but it got him thinking

He was a married man fawning quietly over you, how awful is that?

I mean of course he’s flashed the wedding band, and of course he's mentioned his wife when others flirt with him, but that doesn't change his feelings

If you flirted with him, would he really reject you?

Could he?

He hadn't known the touch of his wife in years, the softness of her hands, the warmth of her kisses

After everything that's happened he couldn't even remember her name. He should be able to remember his wifes name right?

Does he really even care about her? Does he love her now? Did he love her then?

It comes with an odd sense of guilt he doesn't like to look at. Especially when you do something that makes his heart flutter.

You, on the other hand, probably didn't develop any real feelings until he actually saved your ass.

You'd been running for your life and he’d snatched you up and into the vents, tossing you easily into his shop and shutting it behind you

His gaze transfixed on said vent, a hand on his gun. Something about him choosing to save your life while also putting up with your attitude was a little attractive…

Okay, insanely attractive

Sure, Sebastian’s guilt for being attracted to you is bad, but so is yours

You’re attracted to a married man who has absolutely gushed about his wife in front of you before. Even if it was only because someone tried to get a little flirty, what does that matter?

Honestly the mutual attraction makes it hard for you both to focus

Everything about that man is intoxicating, his smile, his laugh, his attitude. Can you really be judged for this?

Neither of you can focus on anything but each other whenever you’re both in a room.

It’s led to Sebastian getting surprised whenever another person buys something off him because he had no idea anyone else was in here

Its also led to you freaking out whenever one of the other expendable touches your shoulder without you having realized anyone was standing behind you

You hide it well…at least you hope you do?

The longing glances and quiet staring on both sides is unbearable though

Especially considering you’re both making those dolly eyes at each other, batting lashes and daydreaming

It’s cute but it’s also incredibly wrong of you two and you’re painfully aware of it

No amount of sharing food and acting like it’s not a date will make it less of a date

He’s already long since decided that he’s going to offer you come with him so you both can leave together

And though neither of you will have the heart to confess for quite a while, I think he’d do it on your way out. Something about you almost dying when you both escape makes him desperate to tell you how he really feels

When that ‘I think I’m in love with you’ slips out while he’s bandaging your arm that’s been cut by glass, how can you refuse?

Especially when you’re in love with him too?

He’ll toss that ring into the ocean once you reach the surface, his wife never loved him like you did anyway

[sports-on-sundays]

and I can change / CL16 / Part 2

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - Charles would do anything to convince you to forgive him. He'd do anything to revive his family.

Warnings: Again, Y/s/n is 'your son's name'. And again, his age is unspecified- you decide what you think. crying (LOTS of crying), mention of drunkenness, mention of sex, mention of cheating, broken relationships, broken family, censored cussing

Requested?: Yeah! Requested by some sweet souls who read part 1! @barcelonaloverf1life @architect-2015 @emz2092 @cilliansgirl @lunamelona @lightdragonrayne @leclercgirl16

Author's Note: You guys asked for it, so I gave it! I hope you enjoy! Same song as inspiration. Also I'm thinking after this part I'll write a part 3, and then after that maybe a little epilogue, to wrap this up. Tell me what you think. Also, this is the link to part 1 / and the link to part 3

"Y/n, people change.

"And I can change, too."

You lay on your bed, engulfed in the darkness of the room surrounding you. The darkness seems to go deeper than just your surroundings- deeper, and into you.

Over and over the scene plays through your mind. Those words that Charles had uttered. The way he had clutched your hand in both of his, as if it were his only lifeline. In that moment, the desperation his eyes had denoted was incredible.

Charles, why? Why couldn't you let go? You're making it all so much more complicated.

But you know what he would say. Why? Why, Y/n? Because this isn't just about myself. Don't you see the brokenness in our son? Don't you see it?

Guilt washes over you, and then rage.

I shouldn't be the one feeling guilt. He should. He's the one who messed up our family. He's the one who's fault it is!

The way he cried, though.

The desperation.

The thing is that he is feeling guilty. Or at least so it seemed.

But does he really deserve a second chance? Do you?

Your phone rings at 12:00 A.M. On the dot. Charles has always been on the dot. Unless he's drunk, that is.

Why is he calling?

Right when I'm thinking about him, too.

Although this really isn't too surprising, when you consider it. For the past week and a half or so, you've stayed up until roughly 2:00 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, thinking, unable to convince yourself into peace and slumber.

And now a call comes.

Charles, why?

It feels terrible as you answer. "Charles. Don't call me."

"Y/n," he says in a calm voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you snap, trying to keep it down. Your son is sleeping (hopefully) in the next room.

"For reacting so emotionally. I'm sorry. For years this has weighed on me, but crying and begging won't get us anywhere."

"We're not going anywhere, whether you cry and beg or not." You hang up.

A month after that call where you rejected Charles for what you hoped would be the last time, there's a knock on the door on a Saturday. You walk to it, and freeze when you look through the peephole.

Why is Charles Leclerc here?

Anxiety hits you. The house is a mess, you've got no food to give him, you look like a mess in your pajamas and unbrushed hair-

How can he just show up at your door like this?

It's obnoxious.

You honestly are about to pretend you aren't home, but then Y/s/n suddenly runs in, squealing, "Mama, who is it?! Is it the mailman?"

You sigh at your son's strange fascination for the mailman. You're not completely sure why he enjoys the young, dry, monotone mailman, and for years just assumed because he was generally a nice bloke, and little kids are weird, until you realized with an ounce of dread that the mailman resembles Charles, in a way. After that, you've never encouraged his enthusiasm for the mailman, just in case that was the reason, whether conscious or not.

"No, no," you sigh, unlocking the door. "It's not the mailman, love."

"Who is it, Mama?"

As you swing the door open, you murmur, "Well, love, none other but your father."

"Daddy!" the little boy, still in his Lightning McQueen pajamas, squeals, running to hug his father. You glance away, staring at the floor.

Charles hugs your son, kissing him, and exclaims, "Aw, there's my little buddy! How are you, man?"

"I'm good, Daddy! Are you coming to live here now, Daddy?!"

"Ugh- Not quite..." He picks up your son, and looks to you, immediately saying, "Sorry it's such short notice."

You grit your teeth, murmuring, "You mean no notice?"

"Right," he nods with a quick exhale.

While the presence of your son is a burden for you, preventing you from showing your true feelings, it may be an advantage for Charles, to get across what he needs to get across. Whatever that may be.

Because this is all just a game. Everyone with their own different motives. Y/s/n wants Mama and Daddy to love each other because he wants one place to live. Charles' motives are unknown, but probably are just manipulative and selfish- about making himself feel better. And your motive? You don't want to relive the past, so will avoid Charles at all costs.

Charles' and Y/s/n's motives align more with each other than your's.

You look at your son. Who you love so much. He looks at you with hope. Charles looks at you with... a very similar expression.

These two.

How can you love one and hate the other?

They're both family, as much as you hate to admit it. Because one of them, you wish you could erase.

No. But you don't. Because if you'd never met Charles, Y/s/n would never have been born. And you can't even begin to imagine your life without him.

You hold the door open, and gesture to the couch. "Sit down, Charles. I'm going to get dressed, and then put the kettle on." You say all this through gritted teeth.

How can he just walk in as if he owns the place?

He nods. "Thank you, Y/n." You watch in the doorway to the hall as Charles sits down on the couch with his son on his lap. You watch as he says softly, picking up a toy car from off the rug, "This car is awesome, Y/s/n. Where'd you get it?"

"Mama got it for me! For my birthday!" Y/s/n takes it from his father's hand with much pride, and starts driving it across Charles' chest, up onto his neck, and eventually onto his cheeks. The whole time, Charles laughs, his hand on his son's back to keep him from tipping off his lap.

"That's a super cool car. Does it have a name?"

"Uhhh," Y/s/n frowns. "Zoom! Because he goes zooooom!"

"Oh, it's a he?"

"Of course," Y/s/n says, as if this fact should be obvious. Then he giggles, "Because girls smell."

"They smell?! No way. Girls don't smell."

"Yeah, they do," he crosses his arms, frowning at his father. "You don't know any girls. You only know... Uh, Cah-los."

Charles laughs out loud. "The only person I know is 'Cah-los'?"

"Yep! And Uncle Arthur and Uncle Lorenzo, but that's it!" your son claims in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Their conversation continues, but you finally turn to leave and get yourself fixed up. You quickly shower, brush your teeth and hair, put on moisturizing cream, perfume, and deodorant, and put on a beige hoodie, grey sweatpants, and slides, before going to make tea. The whole time, you mind swirls.

Why is he here? Why is he here on a Saturday? Why is he here, without even asking to come? It's so... obnoxious.

You finish making two cups of tea, finding with awe as you make them that you remember exactly the way Charles likes his tea, and you're doing it automatically.

Because I used to do this so much.

You walk back in with the tea and see the two boys sitting on the rug now. Charles is tickling Y/s/n's tummy, and both of them are laughing- Charles with more of a chuckle and Y/s/n with more of a squealing giggle. When Charles sees you, he slowly stops, saying with a little sigh, "Alright, bud. Mama's back with my tea, and I mean to drink it."

"But Daddyyy!"

"Nope!" he grins, standing up, ruffling his son's messy hair. He then walks to you, and you hand him his tea. He lights up when he tastes the tea and looks at you, muttering softly, "My God, you remembered how I like my tea...?"

"Don't jump to sh*t, Charles," you murmur, soft enough for Y/s/n not to hear.

"Right," he sighs, sitting down again on the couch.

You set your tea down, walking to your son. "Alright, love. I want you to go in your room now, okay? Remember the Lego plane you were building? Why don't you work on that? I want to see it once it's finished, okay? And if you need anything, call, okay? Don't come in here. Just call, and one of us will come."

He looks questioningly. "Why, Mama?"

"Me and your father have important things to talk about. And if you don't listen, there will be consequences."

He blinks, pouting.

"I'll turn on your storybook audio for you. Come on." You bring him to his room and get him set up, until you're sure he's completely distracted with the Legos and the storybook. Only then do you come back to the living room and sit down awkwardly next to Charles.

He's still wearing his red windbreaker from when he was outside, and a black scarf hangs loose around his neck. His hair is a bit messed up, but he looks perfect, like always.

Too perfect.

"Let me take your scarf and jacket. And your shoes."

"Right," he says with a swift nod, handing you his scarf, coat, and sleek black boots. You put them by the door, and sit down, viewing the cozy grey sweater adorning his frame. You have a passing thought, considering how much unnecessary money he might have spent on such a garment.

"So?" you ask in a tense voice. "What is this all about, Charles?"

"There are some things we need to work out. You're right- one of the many things I've done wrong to you is always being a f*cking coward. You're right. I didn't say what was on my mind, and I faked it, and I kept quiet, because I didn't want to upset you. But now I see that the only thing I can do now is speak up, be honest, and be a man. You rightfully left me because I wasn't being a proper man. I wasn't being your proper man. I was being a terrible husband and a terrible father. But now we need to uncover what's true- we both have different views, both of which are likely exaggerated or incorrect in different ways."

"I don't care, Charles," you say quickly, flat out trying to ignore his admittance to wrong. Perhaps because you don't want it to be true. Because if he's sorry, that means you have to forgive him.

"So you're telling me you'd rather believe lies, just because it makes you feel better? What kind of thinking is that?"

You hate to admit that he's right. So you say nothing.

There's silence. But then he says, "So tell me what happened."

"You know what happen-"

"Tell me, Y/n." His voice isn't rude, but definitely firm.

You swallow, shaking your head. You don't want to work this out. You want to forget Charles. But clearly, that's impossible. "You were irresponsible. You'd get drunk, never be home, never help me. I'd be all on my own... You... You'd use me for your own pleasure but never show true, selfless love... Then you came home drunk saying stuff about a pretty woman and sex and getting pregnant... So you cheated... And I divorced you because I couldn't take it any more." You can't believe it, but you're trying not to choke up as you whisper, "Charles, what we had seemed perfect. Until you messed it up." Your mouth tastes like poison.

Charles stares down, his eyes swirling with everything but empty, at the same time. "Y/n," he whispers. "I was terrible. You're right. I was never around because I was immature and scared. I didn't understand. To get away from it, I drank and had fun with friends."

Your lip curls. "You're not the victim."

"And I never said I was! I was scared of being a father. I was scared of messing up. I wasn't ready and I let everything happen too quickly. I was a coward and I left you. Even though you divorced me, I was the one who left you. That's what happened. I was stupid. I was a terrible person. It's all my fault."

"Why would you be any different now? There's no way for you to prove that. Before the marriage you were fine. It was when we married that you went downhill. It was like... you couldn't stand me."

He looks torn apart. "I loved you. I... I... I still do. I knew I wasn't being a good husband or father and to forget about it, I drank."

"And why wouldn't you still do it now?!"

"Because I don't. I feel more guilt now than I did then! I feel more responsibility now than I did then! And that was my greatest fear! Responsibility! But now I don't drink excessively! Now I don't avoid reality! Because I need you... Our son needs us. Together. Don't you need me?"

"Not the you I know."

"You don't know me anymore. I'm not the same person I was." His voice is so uncommonly firm, it slightly shocks you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

He goes on, "That night, I didn't cheat. I was intoxicated. A young woman was trying to seduce me, but I refused because I had you. You, my beautiful wife, both inside and out. I wanted to convey to you that I said no because you were my wife. However, I failed to communicate this properly, and the next morning, I had completely forgotten the conversation. I chose not to tell you because I thought it would be better if you didn't know. I was afraid you would be angrier with me for being in that situation. I was a coward, and I didn't want you to be upset with me. I didn't realize for years that you believed I had cheated. If I had known, I would have assured you that I didn't cheat, just like I am doing now, and that I never would. Because I didn't. Despite all the mistakes I made, cheating on you is something I would never, ever do. I have always loved you, and only you, far too much for that."

Your hands tremble in your lap as you stare at him, listening.

Now you're the one getting emotional.

Charles leans in close to you- too close for comfort- and whispers, "I've changed... Please. I just want a second chance... To right my wrongs and give you and our son the lives you deserve. I need to give my all to you... I need to make it up to you... It's... It's crushing me."

"Why do you need a second chance?" Your voice, for once, isn't aggressive. It's gentle. Softer. Your voice cracks as you say, "You should have done it right the first time."

You see him swallow. "And you know what? I didn't. I f*cked up. I f*cked up everything. I f*cked up your life and I know it. I'm sorry. I wish I could go back in time and fix it and make it all better. I was stupid, Y/n. I was terrible. I hurt the most beautiful woman and her baby in the world. I'm the least." He takes your hand again in both his, but this time it's a gentler grasp.

"But you're not. You're famous. You have so many fans."

"Do you know how many times I've thought I don't deserve all this? If only I could share it all with you."

"Charles," your voice cracks again, and an unexpected, terrible longing fills you. "I want to believe you, but I can't. I'm broken, Charles, because of you. I can't afford to let you break me again..."

A tear rolls down your cheeks, and immediately he reaches up with his thumb, gently wiping your cheek, "No, Y/n, please don't cry... I don't want you to cry because of me any longer... Please..."

"Charles, I can't do this..." more tears fall.

There's hurt and confusion, but mostly longing and guilt in his eyes. "Please... If you'd only trust me, then we could make this right. I could make this right, after all I did wrong."

You can hardly believe yourself as you let your broken, silently crying self fall into Charles. You allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder, and you allow his arms to wrap around you, giving you his warmth. "Charles..."

"Yes...?" There's a painful hope in his voice.

"I don't know if I can do this..." you cry into his shoulder now.

He whispers right in your ear, "Just give me a chance. Let me be there for you... Let me prove to you... Let me..."

You can't give him a yes or a no. Two sides war inside you- the mask and the face. You feel him stroke your hair as you cry, at the same time as remembering stroking his hair when he was drunk and needed comfort.

This is some sort of paradox, isn't it?

"Charles," you murmur, leaning away after you've gained control of yourself. "The answer is 'I don't know' right now, okay... Consider it... better than hating your guts with an adamant 'no.'"

As he gazes into your eyes, he leans closer. Softly, he places a tender kiss on your cheek and whispers, "I'll be ready whenever you are. And I'll never, ever stop waiting for you."

Weeks pass, and Charles can't understand why, after all that happened that day, still you insist on avoiding him like the plague.

Well, the reason is just that- avoidance. You're avoiding Charles because you don't want to face the possible truth. You're avoiding him because you don't want to make big decisions. You don't want to try again. You don't want to...

Well, you don't want to fall in love again.

And on that day, the way he treated you...

It reminded you of the man you married, and not the man you divorced.

And that scares you. Because you'll never forget the man you divorced.

So you're stubborn and resistent, and you're avoiding him.

So you sit, staring at the screen of your cell phone. Rereading the text on it. Over and over.

Charles Leclerc: I'm sorry for such a long text Y/n but you probably won't read it anyway, so what does it matter? I need to talk with you and you're doing exactly what I've done, what I'm apologizing for. For years I avoided this stuff and one of the reasons we split was that i couldn't stand up and address and tell you my problems. I was being a f*cking coward. And I've said sorry more times than I can count. I thought you might be on the road to forgiveness, to giving me a second chance. I know you felt the same way as me when you leaned into me and let me hold you when you cried- there's something more here, and I don't want you to ignore this. Can't we just try this? Please Y/n? I'm finally willing to step up, be a man, work through all this sh*t with you. Talk about it. I'm finally willing to be brave, and as soon as I am, you're doing the same thing you've yelled at me for years for doing- staying silent.

Charles Leclerc: I love you, Y/n, and this is a problem I desperately want to fix, but the truth of the matter is that you're being a f*cking hypocrite.

Me: How does it feel to be in the position you put me in for years?

You feel mean for typing that, and you're not sure how much you mean it. Maybe you meant to be kinder.

But the anger took over and your thumbs did the talking.

Charles leaves that message on read.

You sit in the cold metal chair, surrounded by pudgy, middle-aged parents and their gross kids all around you as a lone young mother sitting by herself. You're only here to see your son, and none of the other aspects of this situation bring you an ounce of joy.

All of a sudden, a shiver runs down your spine as a firm hand gently lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps up, meeting the gaze of Charles Leclerc. A look of disdain crosses your face, causing your heart to ache as you bluntly ask, "Why are you here?"

Charles takes a seat beside you in the vacant chair and casually remarks, "I've come to attend my son's school concert. And you?" A glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes.

Your jaw tightens in pure irritation, and you manage through gritted teeth in a tense, quiet tone, "Why did you choose to sit next to me?"

Charles hesitates, his expression softening, as he makes an effort to hold your gaze. "Well... Because I..." He swallows and says, "I'm not going to give up on you. That's why. So I figured I'd sit down next to you to watch my- our- son's concert. So..." Abruptly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The veins in his hand are visible as he clasps yours tightly.

Your muscles tense, yet for some reason, you don't pull your hand away.

So throughout the whole school concert, Charles sits, gripping your hand, and seems to refuse to let it go.

And the moment the teacher is done on stage after the little production, thanking people for helping and the kids for doing such a great job and other stuff you don't listen to, Charles turns to you and says, "So, we have some minutes to spare."

Your eyebrows scrunch together. "Come again?"

He chuckles, but it doesn't feel called for. "You weren't listening to her? She said the students can be picked up from their classrooms by their parents in fifteen minutes."

Your jaw clenches again. "Charles, why?"

"Because I know you want it," he says incredibly earnestly. The inside of your heart melts as the outside hardens.

"But I don't think I do."

"But I know you do. Now come on." Your ex-husband stand up, pulling you up with him.

"Where are we going?" you ask. "And please let go of my hand. You've been holding it so long, it's starting to get sweaty."

He clicks his tongue and doesn't respond to either of these, then guides you down various hallways until you reach the school's exit. Finally, he sits down with you on a bench outside the school, and releases your hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's just hang out here for the next ten minutes, okay? We should talk," he says awkwardly, facing you.

"I don't get it. Charles, there's nothing you can do to-"

Charles interrupts, holding your face gently, gazing into your eyes. "Please, don't. Don't say that," he pleads, his thumb brushing your cheek. "There's something we can do. We can make this work... Please..."

His desperation, his begging, makes you want to cry. "Please just let it go... Let me go..."

"No, I don't want you to be trapped... Don't you see you'll be more free with me? You won't have to work as hard.. I'll take care of you and our son... I'll take half the work in the house you have to deal with... I'll... We'll... I just want you to believe that we'll be happier... I'm not saying we need to jump to anything today. I'm just saying, let's be kind to each other... Let's go out to eat sometimes, or go to our son's events together. Let's act just a little bit more like a family, even if we aren't yet. I just want to- I need to- I- I- I..." He trails off. His hands fall off your cheeks, and his shoulders slack. His head goes down.

It's like just the hard look in your eyes alone crushed him.

Like that alone is the huge weight he's bearing.

"F*** me, Y/n... F*** me," he whispers, his hands in his lap trembling. "I don't deserve you. I hurt you. Doesn't matter how much I changed. I still have to live through the consequences of my actions, don't I?" He seems to be talking more to himself, but you have no idea at this point. "Just f*** me." He exhales shakily, before suddenly standing up. He stares you right in your eyes, and your heart breaks when you see the hurt, the destroyed desperation. "It's fine, Y/n." He's trying to keep a level face. But his voice cracks. "I'll leave you alone. I'll let you go. I can see all this is just hurting you more. I never meant to hurt you more. I never meant to bring up the past to hurt you. I wanted to help you... I wanted to help you heal..." He drags a hand over his face. "But clearly I f***ing didn't. Clearly I messed it up again. I f***ing messed up again." He swallows. His eyes glimmer with wetness as he practically whispers, "The last thing I want is to hurt you. So I'll drop it. I'm just being selfish again, aren't I? I think this would be better, but you don't. And that's hurting you. And I never wanted to..." He swallows, his nose crunching up. Suddenly he yells, "I never wanted to hurt you ever again, because I love you, for f***'s sake! I love you, but I did hurt you, because, in the end, no matter what, I'm going to f*** it up anyway! So bye, Y/n!" Suddenly he turns on his feet. Like he doesn't want you to see him cry again. But you can hear the tears in his voice when the last thing he calls back is, "It will go back to normal, and we can pretend none of this ever happened! Pretend I'm a stranger! It's the best for you, anyway, apparently, and all I wanted was the best for you!"

You stare in shock as you watch him get in his car and drive away. You remain seated, gaze straight ahead. Tears well up in your eyes, and your body quivers, yet you manage to compose yourself, rise on unsteady legs, and compel yourself to return to the school to pick up your son.

But that just wasn't right.

I should have stopped him. I should have called him back. I should've.

How far can revenge go before it's gone too far?

For days, the guilt, the hurt, the rue- they weigh on you. Every moment of your days, it consumes your thoughts. Regret and confusion and anger fill you in every step, engulfing your every move. And if you thought you weren't getting any sleep before, now it's even worse.

You long to fix it, but you are unsure of how. Despite everything... You can't see how Charles isn't being honest. You want to have faith in him. A small part of you may even want to love him, just a little bit.

You're also fearful. Fearful of reaching out to him, because you don't know what you'd do. You have no idea.

But now you're dropping your son off at Charles's house. You swallow, and suddenly, on a whim, when you see Charles walking outside, waiting for Y/s/n, you get out of the car, too.

"Mama?" your son asks with a confused expression, still maintaining a little smile on his face.

You smile back down at him and say, "I'm walking you up to your daddy's house today, is all."

He shrug and nods, apparently accepting this.

He's such a good kid.

As you approach Charles, your smile twitches while you study him, but you say softly, "Hey, um... I... We..." Your tone sounds weak.

"Yes?" Charles asks, looking up. He looks perfect. As always.

Your eyes lock.

Please, Charles. I don't know how to say this. Please just understand.

His eyes remain blank. You let out a sigh.

And suddenly, you hug him.

Charles seems taken aback for only a moment, before he immediately hugs you back and says softly, "Hey... Want to come inside with me and Y/s/n?"

You nod. "Yes... Yes, please."

So Charles leads the two of you up to his flat. You sit down together on the couch, once again.

Last time you did this was the moment Charles cried out to you.

"Y/n, people change."

You swallow at the memory.

Is this another paradox? This time, will I be the one crying out to him?

Y/s/n is about to hop on the couch between you, but suddenly Charles scoops him up and says, "Hey, hey! I didn't get my hug from you yet, did I?!"

Your son giggles, getting comfortable on his father's lap, before giving him a big hug. "I scored a goal, Daddy..."

"You scored a goal?!" he grins. "Seriously?"

"Yeah! Mama cheered me on! I scored a goal when I played football!"

Charles looks so bright. Happy with his son. So proud. He doesn't get to see him as often as you do. "No way. You've got to be joking. Was it the winning goal?"

"Yep!" your son says proudly.

You find yourself smiling.

"Oh yeah, what was the score?"

Your son shrugs. "Dunno! But we won!"

You smile and mutter softly, "I think it was 4-1." Y/s/n plays in the little league team affiliated with his school.

"Yeah, but my goal made it 2-1, so I won it," he brags to his father.

Charles grins. "Oh, I'm sure it did. You know, I don't know where you got that talent for football from. Do you think Mama is good at football?"

Your son just shrugs with a grin, enjoying the affirmation from his father. "Dunno! But Mama is good at cuddling and playing with me."

Charles laughs. "Yeah, your mama takes good care of you." He glances at you with sparkling eyes, before looking back down at his son.

The two continue babbling on about sports and football and what not, until Charles finally ruffles his son's hair and says, "Well, buddy, I reckon it's time for me and Mama to have some alone time."

Y/s/n frowns. "Aw, why?"

"Because I want to talk with Mama about things that you won't care about. Boring grown-up stuff. Doesn't sound very fun, does it?"

Y/s/n shrugs, still looking uncertain.

"Hey, don't look so down. How about this? I'll go put on Cars for you. How's that sound?"

Your son grins at this, immediately jumping up, his demeanor changing abruptly. "Yeah, yeah!" he squeals, and you watch as Charles leaves with him to go set him up with that in another room.

But soon Charles is back. He gently shuts the door behind him as he enters the room, and immediately sits down next to you, facing you once more. "Hey, Y/n..." he says in a tentative but gentle tone.

You swallow. "Hey, Charles..." You feel yourself getting nervous again. "You're so... You're so good with Y/s/n."

He smiles. "You are, too."

There's no, And I'm sure we'd be even better with him together.

Charles meant it when he said he'd give up on it.

But you move closer to him. You take his hands. "This is a lot for me, Charles. I'm scared. I'm having issues with trust."

He nods slowly. "I know... I know..."

You swallow, and hug him again.

He holds you, hugging you back. He kisses your cheek. He whispers, "I understand if you're afraid. I understand if you're scared, or if you're having issues with trust. I'm so deeply sorry I've broken you like that."

Y/n, people change. And I can change.

The words come crashing into your mind like a ton of bricks, emerging from the depths of your memory.

"Charles-" you break in, your voice cracking. "Those words have haunted me."

"What words...?" he mutters softly.

You swallow. Breathe slowly. And you whisper, "You said to me 'Y/n, people change. And I can change.'"

"I have changed," he whispers.

"But," your voice cracks. "You said a lot of other s***, too. I remember, during our honeymoon..." A tear rolls down your face as Charles continues to hold you. "You said I'm yours and you're mine. You said we'd be forever. You said you'd do anything for me. You said we'd have three kids together, and you'd never stop loving me, and we would be a happy family. You said we'd grow old together, Charles. That's what you said. But all those promises- they were broken... They were broken."

"You didn't want them to be," he whispers calmly. "But don't you realize? Perhaps those promises were not broken, but rather, they have just not yet been fulfilled."

You look up at him, blinking. More tears roll down your cheeks. Charles gently wipes them away.

"I want to be able to fix what I did wrong. I want to be able to fulfill those promises I made to you. That's what I want, Y/n."

"Charles..." you breathe.

He looks so perfect.

"Yes?" he asks gently.

Your lip quivers, and you lean into his shoulder, and you sob.

And he lets you.

For however long, he holds you there, rubbing your back, letting you weep. Finally, you get a hold of yourself, and slowly pull away. You wipe your wet eyes with the backs of your hands, before sighing. "Charles, if we were to do this... If I were to give in..." You sniff. Your voice cracks again as you utter, "Please, don't hurt me again. I can't survive it again. I can't let you put me through that again..."

He pulls you to him again and whispers in your ear, "I won't. I won't. I won't let you down this time. Please don't be afraid of me... I want to love you... Let me love you... If you'll just let me, we can fix this... We have have a relationship in which we communicate more. Oh, Y/n..." he sighs. "Don't you realize how much I care? I- I would give my life for you."

You blink, staring at him.

Everything looks so promising. That's why you're scared.

It almost looks too promising.

"You say you would give your life for me. But would you really? Maybe you would you give your life for me if it meant losing it. But would you give your life to me while you're still alive? Would you clean the dishes? Would you help me when I'm sick? Would you grab an extra ingredient from the store if I needed it? Would you drive Y/s/n to school when you could? Would you really? You're gone half the year, as it is."

His jaw clenches, then un-clenches. "I would do anything and everything I could do for you. I want to share my life for you. Until death. And I'm one hundred percent sure on that. I've had years of thinking about this." There's hope in his lovely eyes.

So much hope.

You sigh, staring down at your lap.

"Y/n. I'm sorry. Please. Not only do I need your forgiveness. But your son does, too." He hesitates. "And I hope you know no matter what happens, the guilt of what I've done to you will weigh on me my whole life. That's why I want to fix it."

You gently slip your hand in his and whisper, "Please don't hurt me."

He wraps his fingers around your hand, holding it. "I won't."

You nod slowly, another tear rolls down your cheek, and it feels like all the molecules in your body are being ripped apart as you barely whisper, "Okay, Charles. We can try this again."

[autistichalsin]

I know I express dissatisfaction a lot about how hard it is to get Halsin upset at the player- how no amount of mistreatment from a romanced player will make him break up with them, how he NEVER asserts a boundary, how he tolerates even the most cruel comments. The rare times he expresses hurt, it still changes nothing about his interactions with the player and rarely costs more than one approval.

The reason I express this most of all with the new datamined dialogue is for two reasons: one, that one is so beyond the pale that it needs to be treated as evil, and should include Halsin saying so. But also, if Halsin won't even call it quits with a romanced player after THIS, it raises some really worrying implications.

Halsin should be allowed to have ONE situation where he'll go "no more" to the player's cruelty because... honestly? The pattern the writers established here actually makes me worried for Halsin.

Halsin rarely shows offense or anger at lines no matter how mean they are (even the player shooting down his romantic overture by comparing him to a deep rothe gets a hurt response but no loss of approval or scolding or anything). He stays with the player romantically even after they threaten to sell him back into sexual slavery in the new dialogue- he doesn't even lose a single approval point! And while he gets annoyed if the player toys with his heart by nearly breaking up with him multiple times and then changing their mind, even after the fourth time the player does this, when he says "sometimes it is difficult to love you," the implication there is clear- he still DOES love you. Even when he is deeply hurt by what you're doing, so much so that he straight up asks you, "does it please you to see me crestfallen?" and loses approval, he STILL doesn't break up with you or assert himself- he doesn't say next time is the last time, he doesn't call the player an asshole, nothing. He just takes it even when he gets hurt and upset again and again. In short: Halsin puts up with a LOT of manipulative, borderline abusive behavior from the player without more than an occasional ding in approval.

Then you add in Halsin's backstory of sexual slavery, him losing all of his family, being so socially isolated from his leadership role that he began to MISS being a sex slave, his sadness but quiet acceptance at the fact that everyone thinks his feelings can't be hurt due to his size, his survivor guilt over the shadow curse, and the fact that the player, even if they choose to mistreat him, is still the one who broke the curse with him, leaving him feeling permanently feeling indebted to them.

In other words: what the game is showing us ISN'T a wise and stoic, sage old elf who is just that unshakeable after all he's seen. They are showing us a man with so much unprocessed trauma and such a complete lack of personal boundaries that he is showing several warning signs he could easily end up the victim of domestic violence by a partner- whether that's evil!Tav or some other potential partner he might find after canon- without ever realizing it.

The other romanceable characters will dump you if you mistreat them or violate the terms of the relationship (I.E. sleeping with someone else when they made it clear they weren't poly). They all, even Astarion, have more willingness to stand up for themselves than Halsin does.

Halsin isn't a pushover, or at least, I don't think we're supposed to read him as one. He will fight whatever enemies he needs to. But when it comes to those close to him- and note that he calls the player his friend in ALL circumstances- he just refuses. The most is a ding of approval at times or a very quiet, quick comment that basically amounts to "that wasn't cool :( " before he moves on.

I know it wasn't what the writers intended, but it's what comes across in the text all the same.

(This is also why, on top of headcanoning Halsin as autistic, I am also firmly convinced he was bullied as a child- he just acts far too much like a grown-up victim of bullying)

[pathetichimbos]

How would tommy be like during sex? rough or soft mb in between?

I have many thoughts. So many. I don't really mention a gender but the pp goes into something. what you decide that is is between you and god

Well, to start it off, we all know Thomas is a big man. 6'5, wide set shoulders, big tummy and just all around a big stature.

He's naturally strong from growing up on a farm and working at the slaughterhouse, especially given that he walks back and forth a lot.

And he knows it.

This is something I could write a whole essay on, but I'll keep it short for the sake of this post and it's primary objective: A lot of people think Thomas is unaware. They think he doesn't understand basic things, like in The Beginning, after the slaughterhouse is shut down and Jess has to kick Thomas out, resorting to insulting him after Thomas won't leave, a lot of people assume it's because his mind can't grasp the fact that it's shut down, but it just isn't true. Thomas is very aware, and he's a very intelligent man. No, he may not be able to read all that well, and math confuses and frustrates him, but he's not an idiot.

All this to say that Thomas isn't this dumb jock that doesn't understand his own strength, he's very aware of how strong he is. He's spent his entire life on a farm, and if you've ever spent a lot of time around animals, you know that you have to know how to control yourself and your strength to protect the animals and yourself from getting hurt.

He's a gentle man, with a kind heart. And this carries over to sex, with several other factors as well.

See, the thing is, considering the time frame and everything, it's safe to assume Thomas never got the sex talk. He knows that sex happens between two people, he knows that babies come from sex, and he knows that it's sinful to have sex outside of marriage, but that's really it. He has no other frame of reference.

Considering this, and his own self repulsion due to his skin disease and seclusion from his peers, I honestly believe that Thomas is probably pseudo-asexual.

I say pseudo because I don't think Thomas is actually asexual. I think he has those urges and thoughts, but pushed them away in his own form of repulsion due to his self hatred and the shameful aspect his mother projected onto him.

It's very likely that Thomas does in fact have sexual feelings, and most of his "experience", if you could call it that, probably came from media. When someone of particular attractiveness came on the TV, like the local weather woman, or the sultry voice of the unseen radio man crackled through, it gave him an itch he couldn't scratch.

He would feel ashamed at these thoughts, because not only was the feeling such a sinful act in his mind, but he also believed he was too worthless to deserve anything like that. After all, those feelings are reserved for people who are married and love each other, and he doesn't believe he can ever be one of those people.

At some point or another it gets to be too much though, and he eventually caves and starts taking matters into his own hands, but the guilt and shame that comes afterwards makes it a very rare occasion.

So, given all this, we can finally move onto answer the original question of how Thomas is during sex.

Given that Thomas doesn't really know what sex is, he doesn't ever make any moves himself. He doesn't know how, all he knows is that sex is meant for marriage.

But as the two of you date and become closer, it gets harder and harder to avoid the topic. Sure, he's been attracted to the people on TV and in the magazines, but this is different. You're really real, and you're really here, and you really like him too. All of those shameful feelings he's spent his life trying to push away rush to the surface everytime you touch him in any intimate way.

But he won't change his mind on waiting until marriage, he has way too many pent up issues to get past that. The two of you fool around, sure, (which leads to you realizing just how little he really knows, and to talking him about it all), but that never really moves past desperate, through the clothes humping, and the occasion wandering hands when that just isn't enough.

When that time finally comes, though, he's riddled with anxiety.

It takes a lot of soft words and easing before it actually happens.

He stays still for a long time after he first bottoms out, and he's trying not to hold you too tightly. He's overwhelmed with the emotions running through him, and you can feel his tears from where his face is buried in your shoulder.

When he finally does move, it's awkward, and bumpy, and there's no real rhythm. He's just desperately moving, holding you tightly. He's very loud, moaning and whining against you. He finishes way too quickly to give you a chance, but he's got a lifetime to make up for, so it definitely doesn't end there.

Skipping ahead a bit, Thomas gets a lot more comfortable (and better) with sex. I think overall, he prefers the slow and lazy. He doesn't like to rush things, he prefers taking your time and enjoying it.

But, he's honestly pretty moldable. He forms into whatever you prefer, he just enjoys being with you more than anything. He'll be as rough or as soft as you'd like, you just have to direct him on what to do.

Anyways, now that we've taken six detours, it looks like we've finally reached our destination. I hope y'all enjoyed, and feel free to send in more asks like this.

Thank you <33

[sugawarassoulmate]

More of shitty boyfriend daishou?????

tbh i didn't think anyone cared about him!! i never get requests for daishou 😅

words: 725

cw: fem!reader, cheating, unprotected sex, minors dni

he's still around, being the world's worst boyfriend. and honestly, reader's probably getting fed up of it at this point. he's never breaking up with mika, no matter what he whispers in your ear when the two of you are together.

you start to pull away a bit. you brush off his advances, laughing them off a simple joke, and you're making sure you're never alone with him for too long. he tries to put the moves on you but you're out the door before he can fully sink his teeth in. he tries to walk you to your dorm one night but you tell him you're meeting a friend instead.

after a while, daishou stops trying and you think he's gotten the hint. you wondered if the two of you could ever become friends once the awkwardness died down but the guilt of seeing mika's sweet face whenever she kissed her boyfriend killed that thought for you.

everything seemed fine. no more late night phone calls or sending nudes through snapchat. you and daishou could stand to be in the same room without palpable tension. his words to you were brief and while it hurt at first, you figured it was best than to continue the mess you were in before.

so when daishou approached you at a party — a get together between some of his teammates and other friends from campus, really — you didn’t think he had ulterior motives. his girlfriend was here and gave you a big hug. "it's been so long! we should hang out," she said, giving your hands a firm, loving squeeze.

you accept when daishou asks to talk somewhere quieter, thinking that he deserves some closure too.

"fuck, i need you to be quiet," he breathes, clamping his free hand over your mouth while the other keeps you pinned to the wall of the upstairs bathroom. you hadn't slept with anyone since giving daishou some distance all those months ago. the feeling of his long cock bruising your cunt had you shaking with pleasure.

you wanted to shout, to cry about how good he was fucking you but it all came out as a babble under his palm. it's probably for the best, you can only hope mika isn't getting suspicious downstairs wondering where her boyfriend ran off to.

"you can't deny of me of this like that again," a cocky grin slithers across daishou's face as he latches as the skin of your neck. "went fucking crazy not being in this pussy."

it's hard to ignore the tight feeling in your stomach when you hear those words, trying not to put so much weight into them but you've missed him too.

you didn't give much thought to date someone else — not like you and daishou were dating anyways — but you had given him so much of your attention, you didn't even know if you could flirt with another person.

there was no one else that caught your interest, just him. and it felt pathetic to admit it, having feelings for some guy that would rather juggle between two people than commit. but you can enjoy being a selfish person at least for now if it meant getting to enjoy the feeling on him.

knowing that time isn't on either of your sides, daishou fucks you harder. his hand drops from your mouth to lightly squeeze your neck, the dizziness only adding to your euphoria.

with your fingers in daishou's dark hair, you cum around his cock. any feelings of guilt you had wash away as you're overcome with the thought of "just daishou" over and over again.

"that's my girl, you're gonna take my cum, yeah?" he coos. "don't let a single drop go to waste."

even after he cums, daishou doesn't stop his pace, fucking his seed deep inside you. "ahh sugu, it's so much," you whine, feeling his cum running down your thigh when he finally pulls out.

daishou does his best to clean you up with toilet paper, flushing away the evidence.

when the two of you finally make it back downstairs, mika seems blissfully unaware that daishou had been gone for so long. she pulls you into a conversation about her classes and you try to follow along, ignoring the feeling of her boyfriend's cum pooling in your underwear.

©sugawarassoulmate 2024 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[thesupernaturalhouse]

So I cant.....I can't anymore, Stolas fucking sucks

Season 2 as a whole sucks and gets rid of a lot of character depth that characters had in s1. But this post isn't about that-

I was recording clips for an edit, and you know in ep9 s2 when Stolas tells Blitz about "you couldn't be bothered to come save me"

Yeah.....Blitz TOLD him why he was unable to go and save him. He was even genuinely concerned and sent milly and moxxie in his place

You wanna know what Blitz said??

"Ah shit Stolas I can't today- I'm sorry I am literally on my way to take loona in for her very important hellvis S-H-O-T" and "it takes years to book it, it took 5 for me to get this one"

Aka, a rabies shot, which, racist will immediately kill you. You DON'T survive that once you get it and symptoms start showing up, it's a death sentence, and considering Loona is basically a sentient/anthropomorphic dog, if she catches it her survival rate is probably 0 percent

And you know what? Stolas gets it, and then in ep9, "the one who tried to kill em and you couldn't be BOTHERED to come help me"

Bitch he told you?? He sent people in his place?? He was getting his kid a really important shot?? Yiu selfish motherfu-

I hate this bird

I hate this fucking bird so much more now

This is just the finale straw for me that breaks the camels back tbh like......

Apology tour is just, Stolas and the narritive/writing basically gaslighting Blitz and its gross

I liked Stolitz and Stolas in s1, it wasnt a healthy relationship. The circumstances for both characters weren't super good, but it understood that and actually showed those flaws, It set up these characters future arcs

Season 2 is, frankly, a shit show. It has its moments, but ep1 ruined Stolas and Stolitz for me, and it just keeps on getting worse and it isn't even in a way of "Oh its rough, but they can bounce back

This is gaslighting. This is hypocrisy. This is guilt tripping. This is abuse.

Instead of building off of season 1 it is retconning it, it is destroying the continuity and timeline, it's making these characters so much worse then what they were

Instead of having Stolas face actual consequences for his actions the narritive is backtracking and going "Oh actually its not his fault" over and over again

Oh he cheated in the marriage? No worries Stella is a bitch so it's okay

Oh, he's neglecting his daughter despite them already having this arc? Oh, it's fine she just needs to cut him some slack

Oh he constantly belittled Blitz and made him uncomfortable in season 1? Actually it was all of Blitzs fault for misreading the signs of love!

He is constantly shown looking down and abusing other imps like his butler? Oh its fine, they aren't the main characters so what he does to them isn't important!!

Another thing is that Blitz tells Stolas how he feels. He points out his shitty actions. And what does Stolas do? He fucking cries like Blitz is being a big ol means for no reason

This trial is just going to further victimize him and make him seem in the right. The fact the sins might even be brought into it is also so fucking stupid.

The writing went from a 8 to a 1 with the characters. And it's only a 1 here because there are some good ideas in s2.

Their basically trying to cover up, retcon, Stolas's actions instead of having him deal with consequences and go through real development

Honestly the best ending for Stolitz would be Blitz realizing Stolas is toxic as fuck to him and just, not contacting him again. Stolas could get some real consequences in that trial and move on and become better in his own right

Butttt of course since Viv likes them so much it's gonna be dragged on for fucking seasons and then their gonna get together.

If I were to rewrite the season, I wouldn't even try to rewrite Stolitz.

[simp4konig]

König mistakenly shoots you on the battlefield

König x Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: ~4500

*SLOW burn but when my writing finally has that spark this fic catches FIRE and FAST so be prepared!! 🔥🔥

*⚠️Angst Angst! ANGST!⚠️

*THABK YOU SO SO SO MUCH TO AZZY MY NO.1 FAN FOR THIS AMAZING IDEA!!!! 🥰🥰🥰I LOVE *YOU* VERY MUCH!! 🥹🫶🫶💞💞💞💞 💞💞💞💞💞THANK UVFOR ALWAUS LIKING MYNPOSTS AND BEING SO KIND TO ME YOU MAKE EBERY HOIR SPENT WRITING WORTH IT AS I AM ALWAYS EAGER FOR YOUR MESSAGES😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓I AM *YOUR* NO.1 APPRECIATOR IN ALL RHE GALAXIES🌌🚀✨🌠QNDVWISH U ALL THE BEST ALWAYS!!!!!!🫂🫂💗💗 THIS ENTJRE POST IS DEDICATED TO YOU !!! 🥹(,,havinf said that, i hope u arent TOO taken aback bu tje level of angst here 💀💀REALLT went overboard and I completely apologize 💔)

TWs: König is in love with you. König's sanity slowly deteriorates as the fanfiction progresses. Mentions of attempted suicide, graphic depictions of gore, potentially triggering depictions of depression. König has suicidal thoughts after shooting you. König experiences intense trauma after shooting you and has survivor's guilt.

*Reader's callsign is "King". Implied age gap. One-sided pining from König... but the ending is purposefully kept ambigous (as you, the reader, can interpret the final interaction however you like)! Can be read as a standalone if you have never read any of my works before. <3

*To clarify to those that have already read my works before, this is *NOT* a direct continuation to 1.my fluffy 2.series! This is a separate imagine, but DOES take place in the same KönigxKing microchosm. Whether the following events take place in an alternate timeline or happen at some point in the future/past is for you to decide. Idk man i just write the fics I don't do the world buidling 🗿I write sotires without thingign about the greater picture u honestly think my one shots will tie to a greater plot?☹️No 💔

...

Right from the beginning, König had a gut feeling that this mission was going to go wrong.

It was a deep sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, making him feel queasy on the helicopter ride as the both of you with an additional three others were scheduled for contact in a few minutes' time.

You were just a recruit, and this mission was far too intense for someone with next to no experience in an active warzone for it to be their first. He knew the dangers of missions like this, knew how things could go horribly wrong in an instant.

It wasn't that he doubted your ability. Not at all. From the corner of the room he would silently supervise as you sparred another person, monitoring your movements incase your opponent had the upperhand and you needed guidance.

However, he had never needed to intervene, as he was impressed with your quick reactions and your controlled steps as you'd move on the balls of your feet, arms held up in front of your face. Ambition was in your eyes, your face scrunched up in concentration as you calculated your next move.

You'd defend yourself up until the moment you'd pounce and in a blink of an eye be on top of your opponent, your entire weight pressed on their theirs on the ground. Whether it was another woman, another man, or even a person with bigger bulk you were clearly disadvantaged by, you'd never give up, and took on any challenge with an impressionable passion of a young recruit.

Once they'd be the one to tap out, you'd immediately push yourself off them and offer them a hand, asking them "Are you alright?" in a concerned tone as you were pulling them up. "Sorry for getting aggressive there, sir/miss! I hope I didn't hurt you!"

To which they'd respond with boisterous laughter and a strong clap on your back, you doubled over as they were congratulating you for knocking them off their two feet and telling you to keep up the good work. König couldn't wipe the triumphant smile from his face, filled with pride at your personal victory.

Once you'd be the one to tap out, you'd part ways honourably, never disrespecting the person that came out on top. If anything, your loss only added fuel to the fire burning in your eyes, driven to work harder. He still admired you, and would be the one to pull you up as he dusted you off, telling you that you did a great job regardless.

"Thank you, sir!" You'd reply bashfully, face red from effort and embarassment. "Though, I'm sure I made a fool of myself with how I was flailing my arms just then..."

"Nein. Not at all," he'd say, eyes glinting with something that you couldn't quite recognize. "You did very well."

Target practice displayed your accurate aim, wool seeping out from the heads of dummies and the targets regularly replaced as the wood would cling in pieces, the center blasted into smithereens by repeated bullseyes from you.

Always lingering nearby to assist, you would gratefully accept König's help and allow him to demonstrate how to operate another gun with an appreciative smile on your face, your genuine eagerness to learn making König's chest tighten. You seemingly never knew the effect you had on him.

You were a naturally skilled soldier, he had observed, and he knew that you'd make an incredible addition to the team, he couldn't deny that.

Yet, he couldn't shake off this feeling as something more grave.

All personel debriefed and the plan disclosed a week prior, the superior went over the plan once more back at base. A large blueprint spilling over the table with weak spots and areas to beware were annotated, his forefinger pointing at different areas of interest. Sketches, photographs, and jottings were displayed from a projector for all to see as you listened closely.

König's jaws were grinding against each other in agitation, having doubts about you being deployed on this mission.

Despite this operation being portayed as an in and out extraction, König knew better. He knew what the stakes were. Intuition urged him to warn you, to confide in you about his doubts and even considered crossing your name off the list and assigning you elsewhere last minute without anyone knowing.

But the thought that he could be controlling you — a young, innocent recruit — and even considered doing something so foul didn't sit right with him.

You were your own person, and he couldn't be your shadow, couldn't act as a human shield against all that was cruel and gruesome in life. You had chosen this job, and therefore must have had at least some idea of what your responsibilities would entail, some knowledge of what soldiers go through in pursuit of glory.

Instead of being so pertubed, he should keep it together, he thought, should maintain a stoic façade. He was your superior — your colonel, for God's sake — he was someone you aspired to be, someone that should be an inspiration, a role model, someone that could have your back and be a reliable body to fall back on.

Not someone that couldn't keep it together when you around.

Especially when he shouldn't have been having feelings for you.

You, a young person vulnerable and easily influenced by people older than you, by the likes of him.

It wasn't right. He wasn't right for what he was feeling, for what he had been thinking. It wasn't right for his feelings to cloud his judgement, wasn't right that abusing his power had even crossed his mind, let alone been tempted to act upon it.

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. "König? Are you alright, sir?"

Turning his head to face you, he nodded with false certainty, containing his worry in an attempt to appear confident for you.

"Ja, King, it's okay. Just thinking, that's all."

You quirked a brow, not convinced. "Hey."

Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, a serious expression was on your face, which caught König off guard and made his eyes widen. "If you're thinking that I'm going to get myself killed then you've got another thing coming, because I will NOT get shot by the enemy."

His back slumped over a little, averting his gaze for a moment. "Nein, sie haben recht."

"Ich sollte nicht zulassen, dass meine Gefühle mein Urteilsvermögen trüben." König mumbled something else under his breath in German, then quickly shook his head and laughed, looking into your eyes again.

Tension in his body was eased a little. "No, you're right."

A little. Because he wasn't going to dismiss the thoughts gnawing at the back of his head as mere paranoia.

You perked up. "Good, glad we've got that cleared up, sir! I want you to know that I won't disappoint!"

His heart skipped a beat at your smile, so eager to please and make him proud, that he shuffled uncomfortably, trying to get the butterflies in his stomach to calm down. Now wasn't the time.

Idly fidgeting with his combat knife as the helicopter blades hummed above, he went back to thinking over all the possibilities and different ways this mission could go awry:

...What if these were the wrong coordinates, or the helicopter would be attacked the minute they landed? The thought of an ambush wasn't an irrational one — it had happened before, he reminded himself — so he had brought a few more weapon crates than necessary for safekeeping.

...What if the helicopter's signal was intercepted and everyone including the pilot were destined for a fatal crash? Counting the number of parachutes and noting the fire exit, he could rest a little easier if an emergency like that was to arise, yet it still did little to soothe his nerves.

...What if you really did get shot? In case that happened, he had alerted some operators beforehand to serve as re-enforcements, one of those on board including a skilled army medic, under the guise of needing more manpower in case things went south. After all, this extraction could not have go wrong. It shouldn't have gone wrong.

But... what if you died? König wouldn't know how to deal with the feelings associated with your death, knowing that he had loved you from afar yet never acted on it. At least he'd be able to keep his shameful secret a secret, and you'd pass away never knowing what he truly saw you as, truly thought of you.

He had little time to figure out what was causing the trepidation to stiffen his muscles as the helicopter suddenly swerved and lowered, landing kilometres away from the designated building yet on unstable ground nonetheless. Any moment soldiers could attack it if they had known the group's location, so the blades kept spinning and the engine kept running for an immediate getaway.

König assumed authority. "Everyone remember the plan?"

Four heads nodded in sync.

"Gut. Then you all know what to do. I will enter from the side with my Lieutenant—" he said, gesturing with his head at a masked operator beside you, "—while you three—" referring to you and two others you were only vaguely aquainted with, "—storm from the back. Ja?"

König's eyes stalled on you for a moment longer than necessary. You were going to be alright, he told himself. He'd keep you in his field of vision and could provide you with cover once you regrouped when you'd really need it.

"A quick extraction," he reminded, eyes stern yet heart disbelieving. "Simply go in, get the data, and go out."

A final nod of the head from König as he and his associate separated from your group. You headed towards the back of the building, fully alert, aiming behind corner incase there had been someone waiting to assassinate you.

Doors creaking as one of the men pushed, the three of you filtered in noiselessly, attempting to be as discreet as possible and wincing when the door slammed not so quietly. Guns cocked and silencers attached, you advanced in a line, blending in to the shadows.

As you walked, there were no signs of life, and the storehouse seemed abandoned. No machinery was being operate. No voices could be heard.

All was still and quiet.

Eerily quiet.

Feeling the hairs on your arms and neck stand on end, you shuddered. You made eye contact with one of the men in front of you who had more expertise, and he looked on edge, eyebrows creased in focus under his balaclava. None of this felt right.

Suddenly, something small rolled over towards you all. Blinking once, twice, you let out a panicked scream and dived for cover.

"Grenade!"

All hell broke loose.

Bullets ricocheted over your head, guns blasting from so many directions you couldn't pinpoint their source.

Slowly recovering from your momentary shock, you gripped your rifle tight and started shooting back, hidden behind a load of wooden crates. When you saw your hooded colonel crouching in a corner, you relaxed. With an encouraging nod from him, that was all you needed to go change positions, and you lunged forward. All was going smoothly at that point.

So engrossed in eliminating the threats in front of him, however, König only came to the realisation that you weren't there when he didn't see your figure in his peripheral vision.

Panic consumed his senses and circulated through his veins. All at once, he was frantically scanning the immediate area, searching for any trace of you.

You were thrashing and kicking as you were being pulled by rough hands, your fingers reaching for your holster through gritted teeth, yet it was just out of grasp. You were thrown harshly against the wall, and the enemy towered over you, feeling high from his power trip and excited to exert authority he had never had up to now.

Just as a knife made its way to your throat, your hand finally found your side arm and shot a bullet between his eyes, body falling on top of you like a sack of potatoes.

You convulsed involuntarily, hyperventilating under his weight and the sudden situation. Noting your surroundings, your heart sank.

You were in no man's land, full view of soldiers shooting at your team. The extraction point was just in sight, exactly how and where it was illustrated on the blueprint.

So far, no one had noticed you, too preoccupied aiming down their sights to see you shuffling under a corpse. You could enter those headquarters right now, could be proclaimed a hero of this story, and make your colonel proud and finish before schedule.

The risk was too big. You were bound to get shot.

Yet, against all better judgement, you dashed for the entrance, taking advantage of the element of surprise as three men turned towards you with wide eyes, not expecting to see you enter. Two were haphazardly shoving papers into a half-open folder thrown on the table.

Three shots fired before they could scramble for a gun, you rushed towards the desk. Scanning the material, your eyes widened in shock. This was it.

Now, your only choice was to crawl back into the line of fire. Soldiers still kept shooting with their backs turned, endless ammunition right at their disposal.

You were totally helpless on your own. Just one pair of wandering eyes from the enemy and just one shot in the back of the head would be all that would take to end your life at that moment and make all of your efforts go to waste.

Although an atheist, you mouthed a silent prayer, before taking a deep breath, and sprinted.

Seeing sudden movement headed towards him, König acted on instinct, and pulled the trigger on you.

His heart stopped.

Time slowed as your body fell in slow motion, more bullets piercing through your gear.

Realising his mistake immediately, he almost vomited his own stomach out at seeing you fall lifelessly on the ground, eyes wide and body dropping on impact.

"Scheisse, cover me, verdammt!" He yelled over his shoulder, all rational thought ceasing.

Breathing rapid and strained, he rushed towards you, gently wrapping his arms around your body — growing weaker by the minute — and headed straight for the first sign of cover he could see. Behind unstable and temporary refuge that could be blown to pieces, König was at a loss at what to do.

He had expected everything, evaluated every possible scenario, every possible outcome, even prepared a lifeline for you on the off-chance that you'd be injured in action.

Yet he hadn't anticipated that he would be the one to shoot you. Never.

Shaking violently, König could barely get any words out. "—S-schatz, please please please—"

Hesistant hands hovered over your wounds, conflicted, as blood was staining your uniform, wrenching König's heart. His mind kept repeating you did this. You did this. You did this.

You needed urgent aid, and you needed it right now, yet he didn't deserve to touch you, his hands clenched into fists as he didn't want to break you further, treating you like fragile glass that could shatter into pieces under his touch if he so held you.

He was the one that did this to you. You, the young recruit he was so hopelessly infatuated with, a person who he had cherished and loved from afar, the person who made him feel good things for the first time ever in his life.

He did this to you.

He was the monster in your closet, the threat that König had desperately attempted protect you from all this time, the threat that you were told to eliminate on this mission. The enemy.

The enemy that had mistakenly shot you.

"Es tut mir so leid, I'm so sorry—" König's mind couldn't function properly, speaking in broken mix of English and German. He couldn't gather his thoughts, couldn't think.

"—I'm so so so sorry. Please don't die, bitte vergib mir, forgive me, forgive me, schatz. Forgive me. Ich liebe dich, schatz, do you hear me? I love you."

Bullets whizzed past you both relentlessly, both of you still caught in crossfire. König's lips were moving yet you couldn't hear what he was saying to you, couldn't feel anything as you slowly lost consciousness, slowly closed your eyes.

A calloused hand tapped your face in desperation, your vision blurred.

"—Nein, nein, King! Stay awake! I'm calling for the re-enforcements now! Please, don't die on me— I'm so sorry..."

Shaky yelling through the walkie-talkie, voice cracking. "This is your colonel, König! We're retreating right now! One of ours is wounded! Send the re-enforcements right now to this location! I repeat, we are retreating! I am calling this mission off!"

"What? Are you crazy, König?!" A break in character from the commander, before immediately assuming professionalism once more. "Proceed with the mission! You are on the verge of breaking their defenses! You will enter their headquarters and be able to—"

"Nein. That was an order, commander," he hissed through gritted teeth, nearly crushing the device in his death-grip. "We are retreating. I am calling this mission off."

A pause. Then: "Copy that, colonel. We are sending your re-enforcements to cover you as you exit. Your helicopter is waiting. Hold out for thirty seconds longer."

Sighing with relief, he suddenly thought his heart stopped beating when he saw you laying there motionlessly, eyes closed. Desperately tapping at your cheek did nothing to awaken you. He prayed that you'd survive, willing time to go faster.

At last, loud whirring from above gave him the only comfort. Not waiting a second longer, König picked up your limp body and dashed outside, the helicopter lifting off as the rest of the crew threw themselves inside.

Opening your vest to inspect your wounds, he saw a blood-soakes folder secured tightly to your chest.

It was the data. You risked your life for the mission. You risked everything to accomplish the task and he had shot you anyways.

"—This is your colonel, König. We have the data. Mission accomplished, I repeat, mission accomplished. King has the data."

The radio crackled with an indistinguishable response, yet König heard nothing, blood rushing to his head and ringing persisting. Medics wasted no time to wheel you into an operating room, tearing your limp body away from his arms. He avoided the celebrations and cheers for their colonel, leaving everyone dumbfounded at his reaction. Shouldn't have he been proud? The mission was a success!

Yet the mission wasn't a success, and if anything, he felt shame. No one knew why their colonel holed himself up in his room aside from himself.

The news of you in critical condition in the hospital broke König.

As much as he wanted to see you, to check on your health and be the one to see your first signs of recovery, he couldn't. He couldn't bear to witness the colour drained from your face as you laid unmoving on the bed, the slow beeping from the heart rate monitor machine the only indication that you were alive.

He just couldn't. Not when he caused this. Not when he fucked up this much.

Using the gym as a coping mechanism for a while, he trained harder and more often than ever before, only wishing to make the pain go away. When he wasn't at the gym all throughout the day or at odd hours of the night, he'd toss and turn in his bed, having nightmares about your body bleeding out below him as the shot relentlessly echoed in his head. Or worse, he'd imagine himself shooting you again, only this time he'd find the barrel of his gun was aimed at your forehead execution-style, your unassuming face suddenly exploding into bloody pieces and what was left of your bewildered expression still remained even after he had pulled the trigger.

At those, König would spring upright, screaming "No!" in anguish.

He'd be panting heavily, bedsheets drenched in his own sweat and feeling like he was suffocating with each rise and fall of his chest. When the situation sunk in, he'd clench his fists so tightly his knuckles went white, shaken to his very core. On those nights, König wanted nothing more than to hurt himself, to compensate for the injury he inflicted upon you and how he had completely disgraced you.

At one point, when he had finally had enough, in his blind craze snatched the pistol laying by his bed, flicked the safety off and aimed it at the same place he had shot you, just to break down in despair when no bullet came out, the clip hidden in his bedside drawer.

Hand tightly squeezing his heart through his soaked t-shirt, he was repulsed by the fact that he was completely healthy and could walk freely while you lay injured and dying.

Under his watch, you had been injured. Under him, your body had crumpled. And it was his fault.

In emotional turmoil, he soon lost all ability to function. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and could hardly find the motivation to get out of bed most of the time, convinced that he had killed you, convinced that he was a monster. Responsibilities were kept on hold, the next best person taking his place. No one questioned the new arrangement, despite the shared confusion from everyone on base.

He couldn't take this. He couldn't take this any longer. He would have rather died, sacrificed himself in any way possible if it meant that you could live another day, as you could make a greater impact on the world than he ever could. Could be a better person than he ever could.

It was his fault. He shot you. He had shot you. He had shot the recruit that he had hopelessly fallen in love with, yet only he himself was to blame for it for his lack of control, for his inability to be unaffected by his feelings.

One day, a knock on his door pulled him out from his trance.

Prior to the interruption, König was staring at the cement wall, his eyes unfocused, completely still and barely breathing. He wasn't himself.

Immediately straightening his legs and nearly tearing a tendon from how fast he got up despite having been so inactive for the last few days, he stomped quickly towards the door, his face glum yet eyes glinting with the merest hint of hope.

Hand reaching for the handle, he had readied himself, expecting bad news coming from a surgeon wearing a medical mask and a blue uniform, a solemn expression as they devasted him with your passing.

All but the latter was true.

"Colonel König, sir. The patient is awake. You may now visit them if you so wish."

Blinking a couple of times, König thought he had heard incorrectly.

"...P...Pardon?"

Repeated were the words that König was shocked to hear.

"King is awake, sir. Their condition is a stable one. Our team thought to notify you first since you were on the mission with them."

Gasping, König could barely breathe. He felt like he was drowning, drowning despite his head breaking out from the water. "What... I... where?"

"Ground floor, room twelve. They're on medication as of this moment yet are fully awake."

König nearly fell to his knees. You were alive!

You were alive! He hadn't killed you! He thanked the Gods, and could barely keep composed, barely able to stop himself from dashing to the center of base and yelling into the sky in pure joy.

"I— thank you... so much."

Running faster than he had ever ran in his whole life, he was at your door in minutes.

Yet, as his fingers reached for the door knob, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, hand poised mid-air.

What if you didn't want to see him after the whole ordeal?

What if you resented him, and would spit in his face the moment he walked in?

What if you hated him, and wanted nothing to do with him ever again?

Hesistantly knocking twice, he nearly had a heart attack when your voice broke through the door:

"Come in," you called simply; your voice was hoarse, but it was clearly still you.

Taking a deep breath, König pushed the door open.

There you were. He was having heart palpitations at seeing you awake and looking at him.

The light coming through the open curtains made your skin glow despite how pale you were, eyes sparkling and crinkling in happiness despite the dark circles and heavy bags under your eyes, hair splayed out behind on your pillow, resembling a halo, despite how greasy it was.

He had missed you. So much.

Then his heart sunk as he reminded himself that he was the reason for why you were here, why you were in in this state to begin with.

Seeing König, You shot him a daring smirk despite how numb your face felt. "Hey, König, sir. Did you visit me at all? I'm sure you missed me."

Waiting in anticipation, you kept looking at him excitedly. At the lack of response and his refusal to meet your gaze, it faded completely. "—Wh—what? You—"

"Not— not even once? Not—"

Tears were welling up in your eyes. "—you didn't come see me even one time?"

Maybe you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. Maybe you should have thought that König would not have time to spare in his busy schedule.

Yet you couldn't not get your hopes up when as soon as you woke, your first thought was of König. Although the grim reality hit you hard like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head, you still wished to see him.

And yet, he hadn't wished to see you at all. He had avoided you like the plague.

"Scheisse—"

König started pacing the room, head hung low as he weighed the pros and cons. Indecision.

"—Do you really... do you really want to know why I didn't visit you, King?"

You nodded meekly, lip quivering.

He finally made up his mind.

If you rejected him, at least he'd rest easier knowing that you'd live, and continue to be happy for you from afar. He'd still support you, still be your colonel, still love you even when you found someone else.

"I... I put you in this position, King... It was all my fault," he begun, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tone softed as he finally stopped, as still as a statue, a metre away. From this angle, you saw how bloodshot his eyes were, how they sagged in sadness, how dark circles had formed from lack of sleep. His pale blue eyes were dull, glued to the ground.

"Not only did I lose sight of you on the battlefield, I also shot you. Shot my own—" Pausing, not knowing how to refer to you.

He carried on. "I couldn't live with myself. I still can't live with myself. I'm walking, uninjured, as you are laying in bed, recovering from an injury that I am the reason for. From bullet wounds that were the result of me."

Voice hitching slightly, he tried to keep his breathing under control. But he couldn't.

"How could the monster that shot you enter your room and dare to look at you? How could I watch you cling to life, while I walk freely despite causing you this— this agony? What right do I have looking at you after putting you here?"

You allowed the tears to spill down your cheeks.

He stopped, eyelids drooping, finally meeting your eyes.

"I have feelings for you, King, I—" Trembling "—I do. But... I shouldn't be feeling this way. You have your whole life ahead of you and I—"

"—I've... aged... I'm not the same man I was before. I've witnessed things far too disturbing to ever share with you. I... I know that you should be with someone better and I—"

Although still in a daze and sedated by the drugs, your thought process was still clear enough where you could be sure about this.

Reaching with a tentative hand for König's larger and rougher one, you squeezed it weakly, looking up at him with a heartfelt expression.

König smiled for the first time in ages.

Through that gesture alone, König knew that you forgave him.

He allowed his breathing to stabilise, wanting nothing more than to start over with you.

...

Note: MY FAT FUCIIJF FINGERS SLIPPED AND I POSTED THIS EARLIER THANI WAS SUPPOSED TO OJ MY GOD I AM AN IDIOT 🤡🤡

Edit next day: how tmdid this fet 100+ notes im sobbing 😭😭. thabk you everyone for readijg this angst fest!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[yourlocalstranger123]

Part 1

characters: Nahida, zhongli, Raiden/Ei, Scaramouche/wanderer, Xiao/alatus, Venti, dottore, Albedo, aether/lumine/traveler and abyss prince/princess, dainsleif, azhdaha, miko, celestial

Note: I put the celestials and zhongli even though I already did them because I forgot to put in what they would do if you finally are in Teyvat. Also, some characters don't have their own section, just in someone's else. [Like Miko in Ei's]

Warning: Some have slight NSFW, but technically, it's mostly SFW, slight yandere or maybe just full on yandere and obsessed. Idk-

[They all wonder why you're calling them your baby girl(s)—]

//

Celestials might be a little greedy for trying to convince or guilt trap you to stay with them a bit longer.....

//

Zhongli. [ I know I already did zhongli, but I didn't put in what happened when you finally got into teyvat] he was so thrilled. If he was in his dragon body, his tail would've been wagging like a dog. His knees became weak by your presence. He just wanted you to touch him. He finally felt the warmth...although azhdaha just had to steal you from him! He also had a dragon form, so why don't you ask him to transform into it? You could see him in a corner with a slight frown [pout]. At least he gets head pats. [He'll get spoiled sooner or later 🤭]

//

Xiao. He was loyal to zhongli for sure, but you? He is obsessed with you. When he was alatus, you were the light who he always kept precious. You gave him warmth all those torturous years. You were the reason he could endure it before zhongli had finally saved him from it. He didn't know you were the creator. But when he finally knew, he was so happy. You were always with him, giving everyone hope and the same warmth that you gave him to the others and his friends. Why are you keeping giving him tofu to summon him? He's so very grateful for your cooking and thoughts, but you don't need to. Just call his name with your beautiful voice. You still do it though, which makes him slightly flustered as you can see the tips of his ears go red as he greets you. He was so, SO flustered and shy when you let him on your lap and hug you or lay on it. His eyes went heavy as he closed them. The first time in his whole life, he had a wonderful dream....(of you)

Nahida. Honestly, she felt really happy with you. Even when she was locked away, she felt you reaching for her. She still could feel the warmth, and that's why she's still having hope for someone to save her. Since she is literally the god of knowledge, she already knew you were the creator. Honestly, when you finally went to Teyvat, she didn't expect to be your child suddenly. Although she's not complaining! She loves it when you smother her with your parently love. [You totally did not try to beat the soul out of the grand sages for locking her up, and people, even some of the archons, had to hold you down-]

//

Ei would be concerned. Who was interfering with her eternity? She didn't know how to react. She always some what felt guilty whenever she did the vision hunt degree. She ignored it all, though. Until when the traveler showed her the beauty of inazuma. It was so different from what it was before...'Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.' She thought. She had noticed that one thing that stayed the same forever was the warmth she felt. She soon found out the warmth was from the creator! Oh, she was so happy. She would make a room that would eternity be dedicated to you! When you appeared in Teyvat, she would be so dang nervous. She wants to be perfect for you. Everything must be! She was going to send Raiden in her place but didn't expect you to personally come over to her! She tried giving you a tour, but she didn't really go outside much, so....yeah, you're technically giving her one instead.. but at least you enjoy braiding her hair for her as Miko is sitting on your lap in her fox form. She's very fluffy when you pet her. [She would be so embarrassed and will malfunction if you ask how she can pull out her sword from her—]

//

Scaramouche would try to hunt you down honestly. Like who tf are you?? And where the heck are you?? (Imagine you haunt him and keep whispering, "You're shorttt") he was so ready to beat the crap out of you. But he just had to get used to it since he was busy becoming a God. And when he did, he felt your presence once again but clearer. He again ignores it and continues with the fight, which comes with a loss. He had become wanderer now, and he told Nahida that he thinks someone is stalking him. Nahida finally tells him that you're the all mighty creator. So you have been with him this whole time...? Why? He wonders If you forgive him for his sins.... why were you....calling him scarameow?? Is that perhaps another language for something? What does it mean? But it's fine. He still loves you. He got jealous one time and became a 'doll' for your entertainment. He's been doing that a few times. He liked it when one time you manhandled danced with him or even dressed him up [with lingerie]

//

Oh Venti, that drunkard bard. Oh, how he always speaks about you. He loved you so much. You always played as the wind when he was just a spirit. He always talked to you, although you can't talk, the wind tells him everything. He loved you so dearly. You always protected him in the war. You protected all the people. He understands that you can't stop people from dying of age. It's fate. But you had always accompanied him and his friend. That's all he needs, and he's grateful for it. He already knew you were the creator. The wind tells him everything. He didn't think that he would accidentally make the creator drunk! He promised he was drunk when he offered a drink to you! Or when he falls happily on your lap and arms by falling from the tree that was surrounded by a cat. [He also didn't expect the wonderful view of you on the side of the bed.....naked.....wait, WHAT— [ I mean...he's not complaining besides not having the ability to walk...or think anything besides you and how good you fu—]

//

Oh dottore. At first, he did not at all care about you. Even when worshipping the creator was public and a thing, he wasn't exactly dedicated. Until he found some ancient script of mechanics and bunch of successful experiments of creatures you did. He did some research and it turns out that those creatures was friendly to you and you did those experiments not so gruesome. So that's why they didn't hold a grudge at you. He became more interested and now it's apart of the research he's doing. And even experiments perhaps. He didn't know thr warm fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw you smile in those ancient script. Although he may have kept it all a secret until all of the harbingers [except scaramouche because this is the time where he erases himself from all memories] finally found out about it. Oh how he felt when he finally gazes at your body. You looked so much better in the script. He always seek you out for experiments and research. You have the knowledge that even Irminsul doesn't have. Although his constant touch, glances and the way he looks at you with a slight red face doesn't go unnoticed by you when he conduct an experiment on you. [He couldn't forget the 'experiment' conduct on you last night ♥︎]

○ —○ — ○ — experimenters— ○ —○ — ○ — ○

Albedo. He's exactly opposite from dottore at the start, he was obsessed with you. He worshiped you with so many new creations from his experiments and thanked you for uniting him with Klee. At first, he didn't know about you and was curious why he always felt a comforting presence until aunt Alice told him that it was you, their creator, his creator.

He found statues of you that were cracked and was leaking a certain gold liquid. There was scroll. It seems that you made it with your own blood. He researched your statue and conducted careful experiments. He was a little...too fascinated about your body. Drawing you in robes, poses, and even....drew doing stuff to him. He took such care and worshiped it as if it was really you.... you looked way more divine than the statue that you carved yourself. He always wanted you to ask you....."What's the purpose of me existing?"

[You can insert your thoughts if you want, but here's my response to it]

"(1.) There's none. You just exist. I just create you. But...(2.) You can make yourself a purpose. A reason to live out your lives I gave you all. Like you, perhaps you make your own purpose to live is to make Klee happy."

His eyes glinted as you chuckled. He had been in deep thought for a few weeks. Then suddenly, he smiled. 'Perhaps.....'

Dottore and Albedo would 10/10 would be literal vampires. Including zhongli, I swear. The moment they taste your blood as an experiment or accident, they will crave for more. (I know they will literally moan in delight when they tasted it.)

//

Traveler and abyss prince/princess. How they both felt it. Your warmth. Traveler accepts it with open arms. Traveler thanked you for supporting them to find their sibling. But the abyss prince/princess isn't so fond about accepting it. They don't need your pity.... but they guess they can take it once in a while, you did offer to them, didn't you? Oh, Dainsleif. He doesn't think he should accept it. He wants to, but he is not worthy. But once in a while, when he falls asleep, his lips curve into a smile as he bask in your warmth. They can be selfish, right? You did offer you warmth after all..... The abyss prince/princess tries to kidnap— I mean *cough* *cough* take you away but the Traveler holds onto your arm, not letting go. The abyss prince/princess argues that when the time comes after they finally finish their journey, they can find a home with you! But the traveler pouts and still won't budge. Dainsleif just watches in the background, conflicted. Although....that doesn't mean he didn't have the desire to keep you with him either...

[pinkandpurple360]

most of the montage of Blitzo feeling like he's hurt others in Ghostfuckers made some kind of sense (except the bit where Loona kicked him, idk why they didn't show the clip of Blitzo calling Loona's bluff on the 'why don't you just replace me' line instead)

but then we get to the Stolas Section and boy oh boy

Blitzo pulling his hand away at Ozzie's (totally reasonable because Stolas just hid his mug behind a menu out of shame) Stolas looking oh so sad and hurt when Blitzo tells him off at the end of Ozzie's (totally reasonable and DESERVED because this was when the deal was still in place and after a whole season of Stolas demeaning and using him for sex, culminating in him calling Blitzo his plaything. like the inclusion of his one probably ticked me off more than anything else honestly) Stolas offering the crystal (i.e. him doing the bare minimum to fix things) Stolas walking to his door all dejected in apology tour (right after he spent an entire argument gaslighting Blitzo and being his absolute worst, most selfish version of himself.) Stolas singing (a song where he admits Blitzo didn't mean to hurt him and HE was the one reading too much into things, while at a party he called petty and stupid all episode long) Stolas looking all sad and drunk, Stolas making out with some other guy (right after Blitzo tried to open up to him)

like I get this montage is directly in Blitzo's perspective and he's in a self-hating tailspin this episode so some of the shots could be explained as him beating himself up way too much. but after Apology Tour and basically all of s2 we're past the point I can give the show any plausible deniability about what it's doing

literally in every single Stolas example, the way Blitzo has behaved towards him makes complete sense - he wasn't unambiguously in the wrong in ANY of those examples.

Stolas doesn't have the guts to stand up for him, showing Blitzo he is just his sex toy after all? Then he has no reason to want to hold hands just to humor him Stolas doesn't correct Blitzo at all when Blitzo says 'YOU make it really clear that there's nothing between us except sex all the time' and just says 'OK' like he's agreeing he would totally try it on with Blitzo if he invited him in? Then why should Blitzo feel bad about driving off?? And don't even get me started with the idea that Blitzo should feel like he hurt Stolas in AT after Stolas had the nerve to say 'I expect you to prioritize getting my useless self out of trouble over being there for your daughter even though you still risked your employee's lives for me'. Frankly that convo alone makes it totally understandable for Blitzo to just cut him off for good.

putting it short, the Stolas section of the Blitzo hurts others montage should have been one scene long: the part where he steals the book. That's it. That's the only time he was unambiguously doing something malicious to hurt Stolas.

But anon, stolas was really saaad, so he’s in the right. Feel bad for him!!! His big eyes made a frowny face!

The ship is moving into “it’s all my fault I have to make up for it by giving him the love he said I was incapable of” territory.

When he admits he’ll stay away from MnM and only wants to focus on seeking out stolas from now on, because…..of “reasons” compelling him. He looks so defeated man.

A relationship where the burden of guilt and the constant highs of rewards and lows of punishments will be addicting but terrifying constantly. Blitz is obsessed with shouldering blame, stolas is obsessed with pushing blame onto others. It will always be that way.

Don’t forget we still have to deal with them getting together, then promptly breaking up because of Octavia, then a new bird enters the scene, then they get back together again or breakup again back and forth a few times, then post the vassago love triangle ending. And they have to address fizz at some point even though hes married to Ozzie pretty much already.