#i do not understand how any of you survive there

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 10

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this. Labour.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 10 of 12!

“Breathe,” Victoria kept insisting.

“You are doing so well, Choupinette,” her mother cooed.

Colette was quite certain that she was going to die. 

At least it felt like it.

The pain was overwhelming. It didn’t feel like her body could take any more of it. The contractions were so strong and the pain was blinding in its intensity. She wasn’t certain if she could do this anymore.

“I can’t do this,” Colette choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Victoria insisted. Her voice was firm and steady. “You absolutely can do this. You’re already so far along, you just have to push. You can do this.”

"Just breathe," her mother said soothingly, stroking back her hair. "You are doing so well."

But she wasn’t doing well. 

She wanted Max. No, she needed Max.

She needed him so badly. She didn’t want to do this by herself. 

Colette cried out in pain as another very strong contraction hit her, clenching her teeth through it. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max."

"I know," Victoria said, stroking her hand. "I know you do. But you can do this. Just a little bit longer, okay? It won’t be long now."

She didn’t want to do this without him. But what other choice did she have?

A strangled sob escaped her throat as she clutched her mother’s hand desperately as another contraction hit.

“We’re going to need you to push now,” the doctor said firmly. “You need to start pushing with the contractions.”

Colette cried out in pain as she tried her very best to push like they were telling her to. The pain was blinding in its intensity. But it hurt. Gods, it hurt more than anything that she had ever experienced. It was like her body was about to rip itself in half.

"You’re doing so well," her mother cooed.

"Keep Pushing."

Another strangled scream escaped her. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max. I need him. I can’t do this.”

Victoria stroked her hair. "It’s almost over, Colette. It’s almost over. Just a little bit more," Vic promised her. 

Colette wanted to give up, she wanted to give in. She wanted the pain to end. But more than anything else, she just wanted Max.

Another scream was torn from her, a ragged cry of pain as a particularly severe contraction tore through her. She was certain that she wasn’t going to survive this. The pain was too severe.

"Keep Pushing."

"Keep Pushing."

"Push, Push, Push"

She didn’t understand how they expected her to keep going. She could feel herself flagging, she was so exhausted.

The room was a blur around her, dark spots dancing at the corner of her vision. The sound of her own screams echoed in her ears, the pain almost overwhelming. She thought she was going to pass out.

She heard the door open.

A small part of the pain-hazed part of her mind registered the sound. She thought she was hallucinating. Surely that wasn’t the sound of the door opening. Surely she was just losing her mind under the excruciating strain.

“That took you too fucking long,” Victoria snapped. Colette would have smiled, if she hadn’t been currently in the middle of pushing. Max's familiar voice echoed in her ears, and for one sweet second, the pain all but vanished.

And then he was there.  Her heart jumped and a small sob escaped her. Max. It was really Max. He was there. He was right beside her.

Dry lips pressed against her sweat slick forehead. “Liefje.“

He was there. He was really there. 

"Max," she sobbed out. "You’re here. You’re really here."

"Of course I am," he said shakily. He pushed back her sweaty hair from her forehead. "You didn’t think I was going to let you do this without me, do you?"

She wanted to tell him that, in all honesty, she had thought exactly that. If he hadn’t shown up, she would have had to do this without him. But she was too exhausted, and in too much pain to form the words. All she could do was clutch at his hand, desperately clinging onto him like a lifeline.

Max immediately threaded his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly. "I’m right here," he soothed. "I’m not going anywhere.” He was giving her something solid to hang onto. 

“Another push,” the doctor encouraged.

With Max holding her hand, Colette gave one last, desperate push.

She was certain that she was going to pass out. She didn’t understand how she was still conscious. The pain was mind-numbing in its intensity. "Once more,” the doctor said firmly. “I can see the head. Just one more push.”

Colette whimpered, her breath coming in short sharp sobs. "I can’t,” she cried in exhaustion. "I can’t."

"You can,” Max said fiercely. “You are the strongest goddamn person I know, and if anyone can do this, it’s you. Just one more push, come on, liefje."

His grip on her hand was so tight, it was almost painful, but that brief moment of pain was worth it. Feeling Max's presence beside her, holding onto her so desperately with his fingers threaded firmly through hers, it was the only thing that gave her the last little bit of strength that she needed.

With a long, ragged scream, she gave one last push, pouring everything she had into it.

She could hear Max beside her, talking to her soothingly, but the words were all blending together. Her senses were slowly fading. "Push, you can do it, you’re almost done." The words were coming at her from all sides now, swirling and echoing amongst the darkness of her hazy vision, and it was all she could do to grip Max’s hand, and listen to the sound of his voice.

And then it was over.

The searing pain suddenly stopped. 

For just a moment, everything was quiet. 

A cry cut through the sudden silence

The sound echoed around them, small and shrill and so very loud in the stillness of the room. A choked gasp of relief escaped Colette as she slumped back against the pillows, utterly exhausted.

"There you go," Max murmured, gently wiping back the hair from her forehead. "It’s over, it’s over now. You did so well, liefje. You’ve done it."

She wanted to speak, to say something to him in return, but her tongue was so heavy in her mouth it would hardly form words. Her mind was still a blur of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline. All she could muster was a small whimper as she felt his hand gently stroking her hair.

The sound of the infant’s cries rang out again, more strongly this time. “Here,” the doctor said, sounding a little amused. “Let’s get that little girl on maman’s chest.”

Through the haze, Colette felt an immense amount of exhausted relief, as the doctor carefully placed a small, wiggling bundle on her chest.

The baby was beautiful. Small and new and perfect, and Colette felt like the very breath had been knocked out of her. All the exhaustion and the pain was suddenly entirely worth it as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

"Hello, bébé," she breathed softly, the words coming out as a whisper. “I thought you were going to be a boy,” she choked 

A broad smile covered her face as she gently stroked the downy soft tufts of dark hair covering the baby’s head. The small, tiny, perfect little fingers wrapped around her own, and Colette’s heart felt so full it felt like it was going to burst.

"I was right," Max said, the words somewhat choked. His voice sounded almost strangled, and she didn’t need to look to know that there were tears running down his face.

Colette looked up at him then, taking in with a mixture of affection and amusement how utterly awestruck he looked. He was crying openly, tears running unashamedly down his cheeks.

“We did it,” she told Max.

“We did,” He said, his voice still choked with emotion. “She’s so beautiful.” Max sounded utterly wrecked.

Colette couldn’t help but share his feelings as she looked back down at the baby in her arms. The small infant had opened her eyes for a brief moment, revealing the most vividly blue eyes that Colette had ever seen. “She got your eyes.”

“And your hair,” Max said, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the soft dark locks on the baby’s head.

The baby gave a little gurgle, waving her tiny hand as if to reach out for his fingers. “Hello, mooi meisje,” he said softly, his voice still sounding a little choked, as the baby tried to wrap her fingers around his own.

"She's absolutely perfect," Colette whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny, perfect bundle of joy in her arms.

"Just like her mother," Max said, his voice hoarse. He stroked his finger down the baby's soft cheek, the most gentle of touches.

***

In the end…he made it with minutes to spare.

He couldn’t describe the relief that he felt when he finally burst through the door, to find Colette in the midst of giving birth. He had been so terrified that he wouldn’t make it in time.

And now here he was, sitting beside her on the bed, their daughter in her arms, safe and sound and utterly, utterly perfect.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them both. Colette was beautiful, despite looking utterly exhausted. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, but she had never look more lovely.

And their daughter… Their daughter was perfect. Tiny, and new, the sweetest thing that Max had ever seen. He gently ran his finger down her soft, plump cheek, marveling at the sheer fragility of her.

And he couldn't stop crying. This was his family. His.

They had hoped so desperately for so long, and now there was their little girl. And she had been worth it. Worth all the heartbreak.

His eyes stung and his throat was constricting, but he couldn't help it. He knew he must look a mess, tears running unashamedly down his face and throat choked up, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. They were here, and safe, and together.

He looked down at the baby’s tiny, perfect face, her closed eyes, her nose. She had Colette’s hair, and his eyes, and Max thought that if it was possible to die of love, he was dangerously close to that moment right there.

He reached out a shaking hand to touch his daughter’s tiny fist, his own hand dwarfing hers. She opened her eyes again for a brief second, and he could have sworn that she smiled at him for just an instant.

The tears ran more freely down his face now at that thought. His daughter, his little girl, his precious perfect baby, smiled at him. It might have just been a trick of his own overjoyed emotional state, but right then, Max was convinced that it had been a real smile.

"She's perfect, liefje," he whispered, his words coming out a little choked. "She's so damn perfect.”

"Dad, you want to cut the cord?" the doctor asked him.

The question seemed to take a moment to register in his hazy emotional state, but when it did, Max’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. And then just as quickly, he nodded mutely.

In a daze, he reached for the small pair of scissors that the midwife handed over to him, cutting the umbilical cord under her careful supervision.

He was in a daze, even when they took his daughter from Colette to check her over and bath her. "Stay with her," Colette told him softly. "Go on."

Max nodded, unable to find the words to answer to her. He stood up on slightly shaky legs, watching as the midwife took his daughter over to the small bassinet and started to check her over.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his baby, tiny and perfect and theirs. All the years of trying, all the hope and the heartbreaks, and now there was their little girl, safe and sound.

He got to watch her be bathed and then swaddled right into a soft pink swaddle that he knew he himself had bought because Colette kept insisting that it was a boy...and then he finally got to hold her in his arms and cry some more, because she was perfect.

He cradled her small, tiny form in his arms, his fingers trembling a little as he gently touched the soft downy skin of her cheek. Her weight was barely anything at all in his arms, and for a moment, terror gripped his heart. Was he holding her too hard? What if he hurt her?

"You aren't going to hurt her," Victoria said suddenly and he stared at his sister that sat down next to her. "You aren't. I promise you. Babies aren't as breakable as they look," she teased him softly. "Congrats, Maxie."

Max nodded, a little startled. He had honestly forgotten that his sister was even there, the arrival of his baby girl had taken up most of his attention.

"Thanks, Vic," he managed, his voice still choked. 

He looked down at the baby in his arms again. They had wrapped her tightly in the pink swaddle that he himself had insisted on months ago. He had been so sure that the baby was a girl. And he had been right.

He wouldn't have cared either way, but...he had been right.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his eyes burning.

Victoria smiled, watching him with a softness in her eyes that Max wasn't sure he had seen before. “You’re a father,” she said simply. “How does it feel?”

“Like my heart’s going to explode with pure happiness,” Max admitted, looking back down at his daughter in his arms. “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m dreaming. I don’t…I don’t know how to describe it.”

"Welcome to the sleep deprivation community that is parenthood," Vic joked softly. "You are going to be the best father," she told him.

It made him choke up. That absolute certainty with which his little sister said that, a hand on his shoulder. "You are going to be the best father to her," Victoria promised him fiercely.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at his sister. “I’ll do my best,” he managed to say, his voice a little choked. “I’ll do absolutely anything for her, for both of them. Anything in the world.”

They didn't often talk about their childhood...about all the things that had gone down...the long drawn out screaming matches they could remember before their parents had divorced and the separation that came afterwards...

They didn’t like to talk about it. It was one of those things that they usually just skirted around, because when they brought it up, old feelings and emotions came up with it. And the fights weren’t pleasant to remember...

But in that moment, Max felt a profound sense of relief. For the first time, he was glad those fights had happened, because if they hadn’t…he and Vic wouldn’t have the relationship they had now, and he wouldn’t have learned, from all of the pain and heartbreak of those fights, what not to do. He never wanted his daughter to grow up like that. He never wanted her to feel the pain of a broken family like they had.

And he knew that he would do absolutely everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He and Colette would keep their family tightly together and protect and love their little girl with everything that they had.

No matter what.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of that. "I don't ever want her to grow up like we did, Vic," he managed to say, the words still a little choked. "I don't ever want her to feel like we did."

"She won't," Vic assured him, her voice still soft. "Because you're going to be a great father. She'll grow up feeling loved and wanted and safe. I know that, Maxie."

His throat felt as if it was slowly closing up. "Thanks, bink," he managed to say, his voice cracking. "It means a lot. I..." His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard. "I couldn't ever thank you enough for being here. For being with us."

For coming even when he handn’t asked…for somehow knowing without being told what they needed.

His sister just smiled at him, her blue eyes, so similar to his own, sparkling. "She’s my niece," she reminded him. "You're not getting rid of me. I'm going to spoil her rotten, you know that?"

"You are going to have fierce competition, Victoria" Pascale said softly.

He looked up to where Colette's mother was tucking her own daughter back into the bed, fussing over her. Colette looked better than she had before, freshly showered, still exhausted, but no longer...no longer looking like she was going to faint any minute.

Colette was already sitting up, even though she would be in pain for a while, a testament to her usual stubbornness.

"Maxie." Colette didn't need to say more than that, as he stood and crossed the room, safely putting their daughter back on her mother's chest.

He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. "Hey," he said softly, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. "How are you feeling, liefje?"

"I'm okay," she said softly, resting her head weakly against him. "Sore. Tired. Happy. Went through 6 hours of labour, only to give birth to your and Charles' clone," she said drily, making her mother laugh.

Max smiled faintly, resting his head against hers. “Charles?” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She does look awfully similiar," Pascale agreed.

Max gave a small laugh, glancing back down at the baby. He supposed there was a resemblance, if one knew what to look for. “She’s not a clone,” he countered, a note of mock offense in his voice. “She’s a perfect mix of us.”

"With what I am pretty certain is Charles' nose," Colette said drily.

Max laughed faintly, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny nose with his finger. It narrowed just so at the tip… “Maybe,” he conceded thoughtfully. 

His daughter stirred faintly at the contact, a small noise coming from her mouth that sounded a bit like a grumble. Max smiled at the sound. 

“And I’m pretty sure she’s just as stubborn as her mother,” he teased Colette.

She reached up to lightly smack his hand, but her smile was fond. “Like you aren’t just as stubborn,” she retorted.

Their daughter took that moment to complain loudly for once and Colette shifted her slightly, unbuttoning her pyjama top.  At least one thing went down with absolutely no fuss whatsoever. A few minutes later, their daughter had greedily nursed, burped and was back to slumbering quietly. 

"Are the three musketeers still outside?" Colette asked.

“They are,” Max confirmed, brushing a strand of hair back from Colette’s face. He had all but forgotten about Colette’s brothers.

"Get them," Colette said softly.

Max smiled. "All of them?" he teased. He knew that was exactly what she had meant."All of them," she nodded.

[bamgyuuuri]

⤷ love. ┈ kth.

sypnosis. taehyun was perfect. he was attentive, caring, kind... who were you kidding—he was everything you wanted and more. but when a fight seems to have shattered whatever it was between you, it felt like all that warmth vanished. even after everything, can love survive when it feels like it’s already been lost?

pairings and tags. suitor!taehyun x reader ft. friend!beomgyu . fluff . angst . mentions of alcohol/being inebriated . taehyun is a huge sweetheart . slight misunderstandings . drunken confession . emotional hurt/comfort . lmk if i missed any!

word count. 6.9k

short note … just a little something before i lock in for finals heh ,, it was supposed to be situationsip!taehyun, but i feel like this suits him way more <3 do let me know ur thoughts! ^_^

for the past few months, taehyun had been nothing short of perfect as your suitor.

it all started on a warm spring afternoon, the kind where the air felt soft and the sun kissed everything golden. you were at the bleachers, minding your own business, when taehyun—a boy you’d seen around but never really spoken to—walked up to you with a nervous smile.

“hi,” he started, his voice soft but steady. his round face was a little pink, and his boba-like eyes darted around as if he were trying to gather courage from the trees and the sky. “do you, uh, wanna be friends?”

you blinked, surprised. there wasn’t a single person who wouldn’t find him attractive—he practically radiated charm without even trying. but there was something endearingly awkward about him in that moment, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.

“sure,” you said, smiling back. his grin stretched wide.

and just like that, taehyun slowly but surely became a part of your life. 

taehyun wasn’t like anyone you’d met before. he talked a lot, like, a lot, a lot, but it never felt overbearing. his stories were funny, his observations sharp, and his quick wit always left you laughing. it didn’t matter if he was teasing you about your choice of coffee or launching into an impromptu debate about why gukbap was an underrated masterpiece of korean cuisine—taehyun always found a way to make everything more entertaining.

but it wasn’t just the humor that pulled you in. there was a warmth to taehyun that people often overlooked. he had this way of making you feel safe, like no matter what you said or did, he’d still look at you with those soft, doe eyes, full of understanding and adoration.

people often called him cold, saying he was hard to read. “taehyun?” you’d heard someone say once, scoffing. “he’s like ice—untouchable and impossible to melt.” 

but they didn’t know him like you did. 

they hadn’t seen the way his smile lit up when he saw you across the room or how he always walked on the outer side of the sidewalk to keep you safe. they didn’t know how often he sent you random memes with captions that made you laugh until your stomach hurt, or how he’d hold out his hand wordlessly when you seemed upset, giving you the option to take it if you wanted comfort.

“you’re so warm, you know,” you’d said to him one day, unable to stop yourself.

he had blinked at you, surprised. “me? warm? no, i’m as cold as antarctica, you know.”

“far from it! you’re wrong, you know,” you retorted simply, watching his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink as he tried to hide his pleased smile.

as the weeks passed, taehyun’s presence became something you craved. his texts were the first thing you looked forward to in the morning, and his voice notes were your favorite way to end the day. his humor, his thoughtfulness, the way he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company… taehyun was now someone you absolutely could not function without.

one time, on a quiet, dreary afternoon, you found yourself on the bus, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders. you were exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally drained from everything that had been going on. the bus was crowded, with people standing along the aisles, and the gentle rocking of the vehicle made it almost impossible to stay awake.

your head bobbed forward, then snapped back upright. you blinked rapidly, trying to fight the wave of sleep that threatened to overtake you. it was hopeless.

in the midst of the hum of the engine and the low murmur of conversations, you felt a sudden warmth near your shoulder.

taehyun, who had been sitting beside you, noticed your struggle before you even realized it. his eyes softened as he saw your head sway again, and without a second thought, he gently shifted closer.

you barely had time to react before his shoulder was against yours, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"hey," he whispered, his tone soothing, "come here."

confused, you looked up at him just as his hand, warm and steady, reached out and gently guided your head to rest against his shoulder. you froze for a moment, the soft pressure of his body against yours both comforting and unexpected.

"you've had a long day," he murmured, his voice low and quiet, meant only for you. "just rest. i’ve got you."

his words, paired with the soft, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, made it impossible to resist. you found yourself closing your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. taehyun's shoulder was a perfect cushion, and for the first time in hours, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

the bus ride felt different now—less harsh, more like a safe cocoon. taehyun was there, and though he didn’t say anything else, he just let you rest against him. his shoulder was warm, and his presence was like a balm to your tired soul.

when you glanced up at him a few moments later, you saw him looking down at you with a soft, almost shy smile, as if he was unsure whether he’d done the right thing.

but the way your head naturally settled back against him told him everything he needed to know.

"thank you," you whispered, barely audible, but he heard it clearly.

taehyun's smile widened slightly, a hint of something sweeter in his gaze. "always."

taehyun was always there—waiting for you after class, sharing random stories, tying your shoelaces for you—but it was subtle. little moments that let you know he cared without even saying it out loud.

you couldn’t help but notice how much effort he put into the smallest things, how he’d remember details you’d mentioned in passing, how he was always looking for ways to make you smile. his affection was like a soft current, pulling you in gently but steadily.

but even with all that, taehyun had been cautious. he didn’t rush, never pressured you to do anything you disliked. he was patient, always giving you space when you needed it, but his actions spoke louder than words—whether it was the way he’d stay beside you no matter how late it was or how he’d make sure you had everything you needed, no questions asked.

deep down, you could tell that he was waiting for the right moment to be honest with you, but it didn’t make the anticipation any less nerve-wracking for him.

then came the night he confessed.

it was under a canopy of stars, the two of you sitting on swings after a spontaneous late-night walk. the cool breeze of the evening gently brushed past, the soft creaking of the swings blending with the distant hum of the city. the moment was peaceful, but there was a quiet tension in the air. taehyun had been unusually quiet, his fingers clasped tightly together as he stared down at the ground, his brows furrowed just slightly.

you glanced at him, sensing the change in his demeanor. “is something wrong?” you asked softly, nudging him gently with your shoulder, trying to draw him back into the comfort of the moment.

he let out a slow exhale, his breath shaky, and finally looked up at you. the nervousness in his eyes was almost tangible, but beneath it was something real—something deep. he shifted slightly, his gaze steady on yours, and then, almost shyly, he spoke.

“i like you,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “more than a friend.” his words were simple, but they held so much weight, like a fragile thing that had been built up over time.

you froze for a second, your heart skipping a beat. the world around you seemed to slow, everything fading into the background except for the way taehyun’s gaze lingered on you, full of hope and sincerity.

“you don’t have to say anything right now,” he added quickly, his voice almost a little rushed, as if the weight of his confession was making him unsure. his cheeks were dusted with the slightest pink, a sweet vulnerability in his expression. “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. but i just... i needed to tell you. because if there’s even a chance that you might like me back, i want to take it. i want to prove it to you. i’ll show you how serious i am about this—about you.”

his words hung in the air, soft and heartfelt, and you could feel every ounce of his sincerity in the way he spoke. there was no rush, no expectation. just a quiet plea for you to see him—not as someone to entertain, but as someone who truly wanted to be with you, if you'd let him.

the sincerity in his voice left no room for doubt. taehyun wasn’t just saying words, he meant every single one of them.

for a moment, you couldn’t speak, your heart swelling with warmth and affection for the boy who stood before you, so open and vulnerable. emotions swirled inside you—surprise, admiration, tenderness—and for a second, everything felt so right. you took a breath, your lips curving into a soft smile, your voice barely above a whisper.

“okay,” you said, the words carrying a gentle promise, “show me.”

the moment those words left your lips, taehyun’s face lit up, his smile breaking through his nervousness like the sun finally breaking through the clouds after a storm. it was bright, sincere, and so full of warmth that it made your heart flutter. his boba eyes sparkled with determination and something sweeter.

“i will,” he promised, his voice more confident now, as if he knew, without a doubt, that he would do everything he could to make you feel the same way. he stepped closer, his smile never fading, the kind of smile that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him.

and show you he did.

taehyun wasn’t the type to make grand, sweeping gestures—but it was the little things he did that made your heart melt. he noticed everything, from the smallest details to the things you might have overlooked yourself. like how you always took your coffee with just a hint of vanilla syrup, or how you hummed quietly to yourself when you were deep in thought, a soft melody that stuck with him long after you’d stopped.

on days when you seemed stressed, taehyun would appear with your favorite sweets, always knowing just what would cheer you up. whether it was the salty chips you loved or the rich chocolate that made everything feel a little better, he’d show up with a bag of comfort and a smile that said he was there to make everything okay.

“got you your usual,” he’d say, his eyes lighting up as he handed you the sweets like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“taehyun,” you’d laugh, shaking your head, “you’re doing a bit too much..”

“but i want to,” he’d reply with that boyish grin of his. “you deserve it.”

then there was the music. taehyun had an uncanny ability to pick the perfect song for every moment. it wasn’t always the most obvious choice, but it always seemed to hit the mark. he’d send you playlists that felt like warm hugs, the kind that wrapped around you during the long, lonely afternoons, or on days when everything seemed just a little too heavy.

sometimes, he’d even show up with his earphones, insisting that you listen to a song right then and there together with him. "i swear, this one is perfect for today," he’d say, as if he could sense exactly what you needed to hear.

with each small gesture, each laugh, each moment shared, you found yourself falling for him in ways you hadn’t expected. it was slow, gentle—like the songs he’d recommend you that you didn't realize you were already singing along to until it had become a part of you.

taehyun had a way of making everything feel like it was meant to be. and before you knew it, you were already hopelessly, completely, and irrevocably falling for him.

and then came the fight.

it started so small, like a spark that quickly grew into a raging fire. you couldn’t even remember the details clearly—it was one of those moments where everything felt like it was unraveling too fast to catch your breath. all you knew was that something had been said, something that hit harder than either of you expected. maybe it was a misunderstanding, or maybe the weight of unspoken feelings finally broke through, even you could no longer fully remember.

the words spilled out before you could stop them. "don’t talk to me anymore," you’d said, your voice shaking with frustration and hurt. "i don’t want to see you ever again."

taehyun’s face had dropped, the hurt in his eyes flashing before he turned away, his lips pressing into a tight line. you couldn’t take the words back, and in that moment, you didn’t know how to fix it. the anger, the misunderstanding—it had all escalated too quickly, and now everything felt wrong.

and he did as you said. like he always does. he didn’t text you, didn’t call, didn’t reach out. it was like he had vanished. the silence stretched on for two weeks, and with every day that passed, the guilt gnawed at you. 

you told yourself it was fine, that it was his decision, that you’d made your point. but deep down, the quiet was suffocating, and you couldn’t escape the feeling that you had hurt him more than you could bear.

the weight of it all pressed on you, thick and suffocating. every moment of silence felt heavier than the last, and the guilt tightened its grip with every passing day. you had told him to leave you alone—to never talk to you again. and now, two weeks later, you were left alone in the quiet, unable to fix the mess you had made.

you didn’t even realize where you were at first. your hands rested on a cold glass, your eyes staring at nothing. your mind had been lost, spiraling through all the things you’d said and the things you wished you hadn’t. everything felt distant, as if you were observing from far away, numb to everything but the regret that swirled inside you.

"hey!"

the sound of your name sliced through your thoughts like a sudden snap. you blinked, snapping out of your reverie, and looked up to see beomgyu. you hadn’t even noticed him sitting next to you until his hand was resting lightly on your shoulder, the soft pressure grounding you.

"you okay?" his voice broke through the haze, sharper than usual, laced with concern. you stared at him, your throat tight, but the words didn’t come.

you could only nod, too choked up to say anything. but beomgyu wasn’t fooled. he was watching you too closely.

"no, really. what’s going on?"

and in that moment, everything crashed over you all over again—the pain of that argument, the hurt in taehyun’s eyes, the silence you had forced between you. you opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

"is it taehyun?" beomgyu asked softly, as if he already knew.

you didn’t even respond, only looked down at your hands, the shame too much to face him. beomgyu let out a quiet sigh, leaning closer, his voice quieter now. "you can’t just keep pretending this doesn’t hurt, you know."

beomgyu’s words lingered in the air, the quiet weight of them sinking into your chest. you felt the guilt twist in your stomach, tightening like a vice. he wasn’t wrong, and you knew it. but how could you fix it? how could you undo the mess you’ve made?

the tears you’d been holding back welled up, but you blinked them away, frustrated. you didn’t want to break down in front of beomgyu. he was your friend, and you couldn’t let him see how much you were falling apart over someone you didn’t even date.

beomgyu didn’t push you further, though. he just sat there, his presence calm and steady, his hand still on your shoulder, offering comfort in the quietest way. after a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer now.

"look, i get it. you messed up. but you don’t have to carry all this alone." his voice was low, serious in a way that made you feel like he could see straight through you. "you can’t keep punishing yourself for it, either. if you care about him, you should fix it. because i’m telling you, sitting here and stewing in it won’t do anything. he’s hurting too, right?"

the words hit like a punch to the gut. yes, you knew that. you had to face it. he’s hurting too.

you swallowed thickly, your throat dry. "i… i don’t know if i can fix it," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "i said things... that i can’t take back. what if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?"

beomgyu shook his head, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly. "don’t make decisions for him. you can’t move forward if you don’t try." he paused for a moment, looking at you with that serious, knowing expression of his. "but if you want to fix this, you need to be honest. with him... and with yourself."

you stared at him, processing his words, the weight of them sinking in. could you really face taehyun after everything? would he even want to talk to you?

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the room felt suddenly smaller, the pressure building up in your chest. you swallowed, fighting the urge to say something, but instead you just nodded, your voice quiet. "i'll think about it."

beomgyu studied you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your face before he sighed, resigned but understanding. "okay," he said softly. "just don’t wait too long."

with that, he gave you a final, searching look, as if trying to gauge whether you'd actually listen to him or not, before he turned and walked away. his footsteps gradually faded into the background noise of the bar, leaving you in the dim light, alone with your thoughts.

the silence that followed felt heavier than before, suffocating. all the noise of the bar, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, the laughter—all of it felt distant now. the weight of your emotions felt like it was closing in, and before you knew it, you were swirling the glass in front of you, the amber liquid reflecting the dim lights of the bar. you didn’t want to think about taehyun, about what you had done... but there it was, practically eating you alive.

you reached for your drink, the burn of alcohol sliding down your throat, and the numbness it brought was almost a relief. you didn't have to feel the ache in your chest for a little while. the weight of everything—of the fight, the hurt, the silence—began to feel a little lighter. just a little. you took another sip, and another, and then another.

your mind was swirling, everything a blur of feelings and thoughts that you couldn't quite put together. the alcohol dulled everything, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping back in; did he hate you now? did he regret everything he’d done for you? would you ever get to tell him how sorry you were? but the more you thought, the more you drowned in it, and you just… couldn’t deal with it right now.

you glanced around the bar again, the world around you becoming fuzzier and more distant with each drink. beomgyu's words seemed so far away now, but they still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind. “you can't keep punishing yourself for it…” you tried to push them away, but they stayed there, tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

you took another sip, feeling the warm flush spread through your body. the drink gave you the illusion of peace, but you knew it was temporary. still, it was all you could do to block out the ache.

you weren't sure how long you stayed at the bar, but it felt like hours. eventually, the glass was empty, and the warmth from the alcohol was replaced by an emptiness that wasn’t so easy to fill.

and in that emptiness, your mind drifted back to taehyun.

in your drunken haze, your fingers fumbled around your bag, your vision blurry as your hands seemed to have a mind of their own. the phone felt heavy in your hand, the screen lighting up under your unsteady grip. your heart was racing, the ache in your chest unbearable, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

without fully realizing what you were doing, you found yourself scrolling through your messages with taehyun, the familiar words blurring together through your tears. your mind was a mess, your emotions crashing down around you. but still, you kept reading. you read every message, every sweet word he’d ever sent, each one a dagger twisting deeper into your chest.

why had you pushed him away? why did you say those things?

you couldn’t even breathe through the pain, the weight of regret, the heavy, sickening guilt settling over you. the memories flooded your mind, his jokes, his kindness, the way he always knew how to make you smile. and now? now there was nothing. only this cold, crushing silence.

your sobs came suddenly, the tears streaming down your face continuously. you barely even noticed the wetness, the desperation growing in your chest. you missed him. god, how you missed him.

it was like an uncontrollable force now, your hands moving almost involuntarily. through the haze of alcohol and the swirl of emotions clouding your mind, you found yourself tapping on his contact, your fingers shaking violently as the phone buzzed in your hand. no, stop, a part of you screamed. you can't do this.

but it was too late.

your thumb pressed the call button, and the ringing filled your ears, each tone swallowing you further. there was no hope left, only the suffocating weight of your mistake. why would he pick up? you thought, but still, you couldn’t stop. you just needed to hear his voice, even if he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

the seconds dragged on, the ringing unrelenting, but it didn’t matter. all you wanted was the chance to fix it, to make things right… even if you knew it was too late.

then suddenly, there was a soft, "hello?"

your heart dropped straight to your stomach, but then came the harsh reality—it was voicemail.

the bitter sting of rejection hit you, but hearing his voice, even distorted by the distance, felt like a jolt of electricity rushing through you. you didn’t care. you couldn’t. all that mattered in that moment was that it was him.

but the floodgates opened.

with a choked sob, you could barely get the words out, your voice breaking, shaking with emotion as the tears flowed freely. why is it so hard to breathe? you thought. why does it feel like my heart is being torn in half?

"taehyun," you gasped, your words slurring and choked with tears. "tyun, please... please, i miss you so much. i didn’t mean it... i didn’t mean any of it... i was so... so stupid. i-i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i can’t even think straight. i’m sorry... god, i’m so sorry... please forgive me..."

you didn't even care how pathetic you might sound. all you knew was that you needed taehyun—needed him to hear you, to understand, even if it meant spilling every raw feeling in your drunken state. “taehyun, please..” the words slurred out, but they were the only things in your head, the only thing that mattered.

but knowing it was simply voicemail, you simply sat there, defeated. the silence stretched, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. each second felt like an eternity, your heart thudding louder in your chest with every passing ring of the phone. your mind was fuzzy, each thought seeming to slip from your grasp before you could hold onto it—

"is that so?"

taehyun's voice suddenly came through, teasing, soft, and a little uncertain. you felt your heart skip, the familiar sound of him sending a rush of warmth through your veins. but something in his tone made you freeze. he was still here. after everything.

his words lingered in the air, and it was as if nothing could escape your mouth, like the weight of your own emotions was too much for your lungs to carry. you didn’t even know if you were dreaming anymore.

“taehyun?” you managed to croak, your voice thick with emotion and alcohol. it was barely more than a whisper, like you were afraid if you spoke too loudly, he'd fade away again. “is it... is it really you?”

taehyun chuckled softly, the sound light and warm, though you could hear a slight edge to it—was he worried? did he know notice how drunk you were?

“you sound… really out of it,” he said, voice tinged with amusement, but there was something gentler behind it. “are you drunk right now, sweetheart?”

you blinked, disoriented, and tried to focus. no, you wanted to say. i’m not drunk, but you knew it was pointless. the words slurred together as they escaped your mouth. “i… no...”

but your words didn’t have the strength you wanted them to. your head swam in a fog of regret and emotions you couldn’t sort through. you couldn't even hold the phone properly anymore—your fingers kept slipping, the edges of your vision swimming.

"taehyun," you muttered, your voice shaking, as if that single name could somehow fix everything. "i'm... i’m so sorry... i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean to hurt you... i—"

"hey..." taehyun interrupted softly, and there was a tenderness in his voice that made your chest ache. “slow down, alright? just breathe. where are you right now?”

the question made your heart race, not because it was unexpected, but because it grounded you, snapping you out of the fog just enough for a moment of clarity. you paused, trying to focus, but your thoughts kept spiraling. where am i? you thought, blinking slowly.

“uh...” you muttered, barely able to focus on anything but the sound of his voice. “i’m... i’m at a bar.”

taehyun was quiet for a moment, his voice softening with concern. “where exactly? where are you? i’ll come to get you.”

you couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over you. the idea of seeing him, hearing him in person, made everything else seem so much more bearable. but your tongue felt heavy, and so did your heart, and you couldn’t form the words you needed.

“i don’t... i don’t know, taehyun,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “i just... i just want you back. please... don’t leave me like this.”

taehyun’s voice was gentle, calm despite the worry in it. "i'm not going anywhere. just tell me where you are, and i'll come, okay?"

“the... the bar...” you gasped, your chest tightening. “i... i’m at the bar... it’s... it’s near... ugh... you know... that one cafe across the bus stop—”

“i know where that is. i’m on my way,” taehyun interrupted, his voice firm and reassuring. but there was an undercurrent of something—worry, maybe?—that made you feel even more fragile than before. “wait for me, okay? i’ll be there soon.”

the call ended abruptly, and the instant the silence fell, the gravity of everything hit you. you sat there, your body trembling, your heart aching like it was being torn from your chest. he was coming. taehyun was coming, and it felt like everything; every ounce of pain, every moment of regret… it was starting to slip away, only to be replaced by something even heavier—longing.

you couldn’t stop the tears. the dam you’d tried to hold back broke wide open, your sobs coming in guttural, unrestrained waves. you leaned forward, burying your face in your arms, feeling the world around you spin out of control. the alcohol did nothing but make it all worse, amplifying every raw emotion.

you were glad he was coming, but the relief was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by a dark, suffocating doubt. what if he was only coming out of obligation? what if he was simply doing the right thing—helping a drunken mess of a person get home safely—nothing more, nothing less? the thought lodged itself in your chest, sharp and unrelenting.

he was coming, but the emptiness still felt too big, too consuming, as if the distance between you two might be too great for him to bridge.

what if you had ruined everything? what if your careless words, your thoughtless actions, had pushed him too far away, further than you could ever hope to reach again?

the memories of the fight replayed in your mind like a broken record—the sharpness of your voice, the way his expression had crumbled, the silence that followed. you’d told him to leave you alone, and he had. he’d respected your wish, no matter how much it must have hurt him.

and now? now, you were just a drunken mess calling him out of desperation, dragging him back into the chaos you had created.

the thought was unbearable.

your chest tightened, and you hiccupped through another sob, the ache in your heart growing heavier. what if he wasn’t coming because he still cared? what if he was only showing up because he was kind, because that’s who taehyun was—a person who couldn’t leave someone in need, no matter how badly they had hurt him?

you squeezed your eyes shut, the anguish washing over you in waves. you could still hear his voice from the call, soft and warm, but it felt so far away now. you missed him so much it physically hurt, the ache deep in your chest twisting and pulling until you couldn’t think straight.

a sob clawed its way out of your throat as your hands fisted the fabric of your blouse, desperate to hold yourself together, desperate to stop the pain from consuming you whole. your voice broke as you whispered his name into the void with a sniffle, barely audible—just a breath, a plea, a prayer.

“i’m here.”

the words were soft but steady, cutting through the chaos in your mind like a knife. something warm and comfy settled over your shoulders—a jacket. his jacket, that has his scent. familiar. comforting. your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare believe it.

but then you dared to turn your head towards him.

and there he was.

taehyun stood beside you, his boba eyes filled with worry, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched you carefully. his presence hit you like a tidal wave, a flood of emotions surging all at once—relief, longing, guilt, overwhelming love. your heart ached at the sight of him, so real, so close, after so many nights of missing him.

“let’s go home, hm?” taehyun says, his voice low and gentle, as if speaking too loudly might shatter you.

and that was your final straw.

you stumbled forward, collapsing into his chest as the tears came harder, pouring out of you like a flood that refused to be held back any longer. his scent surrounded you, comforting and achingly familiar, and his arms—those same arms you had missed more than you could ever say—wrapped around you tightly.

for a moment, his hold was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you wanted him there. but as your fingers clung to his shirt with a desperation you couldn’t hide, his embrace grew firmer, enveloping you completely.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips in broken fragments. “i’m so sorry, taehyun. i didn’t mean it... i didn’t mean any of it. i was stupid. i-i hurt you, and i’m so sorry.”

his chin rested against the top of your head as his hand gently cradled the back of it, his other arm steady around your waist. “shh,” he murmured, his voice a steady balm against the chaos inside you. “it’s okay. you’re okay. we’ll talk about it later, yeah? right now, let’s just get you home.”

but you couldn’t stop. the words kept spilling out, raw and desperate. “please don’t leave me,” you whispered, your voice breaking with every syllable.

his grip on you tightened, and the steady beat of his heart against your ear was the only thing grounding you in that moment. “i’m not leaving,” he said firmly, the quiet conviction in his voice slicing through the storm in your chest. “i’m right here, and i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

his words pulled a fresh wave of sobs from you, but this time, they were different—softer, like the beginning of a release from all the pain you’d been holding in. you buried your face deeper into his chest, his shirt dampening with your tears, as his hand traced soothing patterns against your back.

taehyun pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. his gaze softened, as he gently wiped away the tears that had stained your cheeks, 

"hey," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but it felt like everything. "no more crying, hm? you don’t have to worry anymore.”

his words, simple yet so full of meaning, made something inside you shift. the storm in your chest began to quiet, and in that moment, you could feel the weight of the world lifting, if only a little.

he didn't rush, didn't push you to say anything, just held you, grounding you with the steady presence of his hands on your face. the warmth of his touch seeped through you, and you felt like you could breathe again, even if it was shaky and uncertain.

with a gentle smile, taehyun guided you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you once more, pulling you into a tender embrace that felt like home—safe, warm, and unhurried.

"come on," taehyun said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "let's go home now. one step at a time, okay?"

you nodded, the weight of everything feeling a little lighter, a little more manageable now that he was here with you. taehyun helped you stand, his hand in yours, steady and sure as he guided you forward. with every soft step, you felt less adrift, the familiar warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a protective blanket.

but as you walked outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin, your steps wavered. the alcohol still clouded your head, and your balance faltered. you tried to steady yourself, but your legs felt like jelly, and your head spun.

taehyun noticed instantly. his gaze softened with concern, and without missing a beat, he bent down, effortlessly lifting you onto his back in a piggyback. you barely had time to protest before you were safely cradled against him, your body fitting perfectly into his like it was meant to be.

"hey, hey, easy," he murmured, his voice gentle and full of reassurance as he adjusted his grip on you. you could feel the steady strength of his muscles beneath you, the warmth of his back against your chest, supporting you in every way, like he was carrying the weight of your whole world on his shoulders. it was natural, comforting.

he chuckled lightly, the sound of it like music to your ears, warm and comforting, easing some of the tension in your chest. "hold on tight, alright? i’ve got you," he said softly, a promise in those words, and it made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

you couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering tears, feeling his steady warmth against you. you rested your head against his back, the comfort of his presence washing over you. every step he took felt like an anchor, unyielding and stable, guiding you forward.

there was a long, still silence between you two, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken words. taehyun's movements were steady, and the warmth of his body against yours was grounding, even though your mind was in a whirlwind. but still, you couldn't help the gnawing anxiety that kept bubbling up, the fear that it might all be slipping through your fingers.

and then, like a whisper breaking through the quiet, you muttered, "i'm sorry." the words tasted like regret on your tongue, and you could feel your chest tightening again. "i'm so sorry... for everything. for pushing you away when i didn't mean it. for saying all those things."

taehyun let out a soft, amused sigh, his tone warm and tender. "you don’t need to apologize so much, you know.” he reassured you gently. "i understand. i understand more than you know."

the comfort of his words helped, but the weight of your vulnerability lingered. the tears you’d tried to hide earlier began to build up again, and before you knew it, the words spilled out, trembling, “i was just so scared that... that i’d lost you.. that you didn’t like me anymore.. that i messed everything up...”

taehyun’s steps faltered for a moment, and you could feel the subtle shift in his energy, as if everything in him had softened in response to your confession. you didn’t mess anything up, alright?" he replies again, his voice warm, "and there’s no way i could ever stop liking you. that’s impossible, and you should know that by now."  

but even with his reassurance, the fear still gnawed at you, the uncertainty that had been hanging over you for weeks. you couldn’t help it—your heart was aching, your soul yearning for something deeper, something more than what you’d had before.

"taehyun," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, "does that… does that mean you’ll still accept me? even after everything? i... i want to be yours. i want to be with you, really with you."

taehyun froze.

the words hit him harder than you expected. for a moment, you wondered if you’d said too much, too fast. his body tensed, and the silence between you stretched thick, heavy with the weight of your confession. you felt a sudden wave of panic rush over you, the fear that you’d pushed him too far this time, the fear that maybe he wasn’t ready for this. maybe it was too much, too soon. maybe—

but then, taehyun spoke.

his voice was soft, but there was a clear surprise in it, like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. "wait, really…?" he asked, his words laced with disbelief, as if your confession had taken him off guard in the sweetest way possible.

he didn’t let go of you, though. instead, he sighed softly, his breath shaky but filled with affection. "we’ll talk about it when you're sober, okay?" he said, though there was an undeniable tenderness in his tone. 

you felt your heart skip a beat, but there was still an edge of insecurity in you that wouldn’t go away. you leaned closer, your voice a little more insistent, even though you knew you were being a little reckless, “but taehyun, i’m serious. i really mean it.”

there was a pause, the world seemingly holding its breath as he stopped walking entirely. for a long moment, the only sound was your breathing, and his fingers tightening slightly on yours, like he was trying to hold you in place without letting go. and then, to your surprise, taehyun chuckled softly, like a wave of warmth filling the space between you two.

"you really are, huh?" he said, his voice fond, teasing, and so full of affection. "alright, alright. but we’ll talk about this when you’re not so drunk, okay?"

you huffed playfully, leaning your forehead against his back as you clung to him a little tighter. "i really mean it, taehyun. i’m not just saying this because i’m drunk. i want you. like, really. i want to be with you."

taehyun’s laughter echoed again, gentle and affectionate. "i know you do," he said softly, his voice laced with something deeper now, something more certain. "and i want you, too. but for now, let’s get you home. we’ll figure it all out, okay? together."

the tenderness in his words, the way he held you so carefully, so patiently, made everything feel like it was finally falling into place. everything, all the uncertainty and fear, seemed to melt away with the simple truth that he was here, with you, and no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere.

the weight that had been pressing on your chest for so long finally lifted, and you let out a shaky, relieved breath. taehyun’s voice was a steady anchor, his touch a reassurance that no matter the storm, no matter the doubts or mistakes, he would always be there. for you. always.

taglist! @pagelets @jettithink @killa-1009 @j-ji-jia <3 (lmk if you wanna be added !)

[mysoftboybensolo]

Things I Don't Understand of Audiences Reaction of Nosferatu 2024

Complaints of how this is a ripoff of Dracula, and I am like, of course it is! The original 1922 film is the most famous ripoff in the history of cinema, but it is also one of the best ripoffs ever. Maybe know your history just a bit.

Why are people saying that Ellen dying was stupid or unnecessary? Firstly, that has been the ending in the 1922 and the 1979 film, this wasn't just anything Eggers pulled from nowhere. Secondly, people don't seem to understand that the Gothic genre never not one that allows it's characters to walk away unscathed, whether it is physical damage or mental damage. Blood is demanded, and hardly a truly happy ending is found, at best a bittersweet ending or at worst an ending where everyone is unhappy. I think not only is it true to the films this one is based on, but also the only satisfying ending. Ellen wouldn't have been truly happy if she had survived, because she still will be a seer, she will still have darkness looming inside, and Thomas is either incapable or unwilling to accept it. He's belief that killing Orlok will bring a reset to everything, even bringing Ellen back to how she was before, but the Ellen she was before was still suffered. He brushes aside her nightmares without comfort, he doesn't take into account how she views their marriage (when she insists that she doesn't need material things but he acts as if he knows better), and when she tries to express her suffering, he would prefer her to suppress it. She would never be truly free, but to die doing a good thing, to have control over her death the way she didn't in life, it's an empowering end, if bittersweet.

People complaining about the pace of the film, saying it starts off fine but then drags in the middle? I think the film flowed wonderfully, there was never a moment when I was thinking how much longer to the end or felt it rushed in the story. I personally cannot wait until we get the extended version, but I am happy with how it came out.

Where are people getting "Orlok groomed Ellen" from? Grooming is when someone goes after a minor and gets them to be emotionally attached to them for a long period of time in order to achieve some sort of goal (often times sex). People have been saying Ellen was a "literal child", but we don't know that for certain. Yes, Ellen described herself as a child, but it seems that the term child is used more as a synonym of "inexperienced" or "young". Also, we are not sure how old any of these characters are. If we were to go by actors ages as guidelines, Lily-Rose Depp was 24 when filming this, and all we get in between the first scene to the present day is merely "years later". That can mean two years or ten, we cannot be sure. And while Lil-Rose Depp can look younger than her age, no one better try and say she was playing a 12 year old or whatever in that first scene, because there is no way you can convince me she is as young as that. Also, Ellen hadn't been emotionally attached to Orlok between the years to make it grooming. I can make a better argument of grooming in another famous Gothic movie the 2004 "Phantom of the Opera" then I could with "Nosferatu".

Listen, this movie won't be for everyone, that is fine, but what I have an issue with is saying people are dumb or evil for thinking Ellen x Orlok is interesting/has romantic elements to it. One person commented on another's post about saying that the cast are dumb for seeing this as a love triangle, especially Lily-Rose Depp for not seeing Ellen as a victim. The director, who also wrote it, wanted this version to play up the Death and the Maiden themes, that was their vision, and I don't think it's right or fair to say they are dumb because the original movie wasn't a love triangle. If we were to be really anal about it, so many pieces of media we have we wouldn't be able to enjoy because it's origins are not the same. Sorry Disney's Hunchback fans, you can't enjoy the happy ending because the original was a downer. Sorry Wicked fans, it's nothing like "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz", so it shouldn't be enjoyed. See how ridiculous it sounds? You can debate if whether or not they managed to achieve their goal, but you can't deny that was the intention and say people are dumb for picking up what they had intended.

I also feel that it's quite hypocritical of people to say that the relationship between Orlok and Ellen is evil and creepy, but then go off and say that the scenes where Friedrich has sex with Anna's corpse as "romantic" and Thomas' couch scene as "hot", when both deal with dubious/no consent at all. Just admit it, you are fine with dubious stuff so long as it's a hot guy doing it. The couch scene was quite uncomfortable for me, Ellen is clearly not in her right mind, even if not by some kind of possession, but emotionally, and it didn't sit right what Thomas did. I am not saying he raped her, but she wasn't in the right mind space to have this be a passionate moment. And he wasn't doing because of love or passion, he was doing it because he didn't like hearing Ellen say how he couldn't please her like the Count could. We had seen what they are like when they are in a good head space and the feeling mutual, as we saw in the den of the Harding's home. I feel like this scene wasn't meant to be a hot and sexy moment, but a incredibly distressing moment when two individuals are acting at their worst.

I don't understand how people feel that this film isn't a feminist film. I've seen people claim that the movie shames Ellen and that her not finding out how to stop Orlok is robbing her of her agency. Here's the thing, yes, many characters shame her for what she feels, but the narrative doesn't. As the audience, we feel sorry for her, feel bad for everything she is going through, and given the time period, of course there would be many people (mainly men) who will shame her passions or deny her darkness in favor for a more "womanly behavior". We are meant to see how the human world would never understand Ellen the way Orlok would understand her, why she would have called out a force that is inhuman, because humanity has turned her away. What's fascinating is that Ellen has control of Orlok, being able to call him, speak to him as an equal, and get him, a powerful centuries old being, to admit that she is his affliction, his weakness, and in the end, it's proven right. This mortal woman is able to defeat a supernatural being, all the while him loving her, how is that not awesome and feminist?

In regards to her finding the cure; true, in both the '22 and '79 film, Ellen figure out on her own what needs to be done to stop Orlok, but that doesn't mean '24 Ellen isn't smart or in charge of her own actions. We've seen Ellen say what the future holds multiple times, so it isn't crazy to believe that she would have seen what her fate would have been as it drew closer, and her need to talk to Von Franz read to me as her knowing the cure. When Ellen walks Von Franz to his home, she says that she knows what must be done, and they work together to make this happen, with him promising to keep Thomas away. Out of all the men, Von Franz had been the only one to take her feelings and thoughts seriously, and he does so here, including her in the plan (where Thomas had refused her to help), even giving her the chance to be stop Orlok without interruption. He isn't denying her agency, he's keeping others at bay so she can be the hero.

I like the moustache, just like a Romanian nobleman would have had, exactly what the director wanted. After leaving the theatre, my friend and I were discussing the film, and of course the design of Orlok was brought up, and she said "I liked it, especially the moustache, very Vlad the Impaler". She isn't a massive Dracula fan but she understood what was the inspiration behind it. Y'all are just uncultured swine.

In the end, I love this film, and wanted to just share my two cents.

[gojozballs]

Gojo x Reader x Geto "Squid Game"

Warning: [This story contains Yandere themes, possessive and obsessive behavior, graphic violence, gunshots, and blood]

Materialist

Part 3

In a deadly game where survival is the only option, Y/N, with a painful injury, relies on her two protective boyfriends, Satoru and Suguru, to navigate the perilous chaos, unaware that the true threat lies right beside her

Y/n's POV

Once again, I find myself in the room, a place where survival doesn't mean fighting for our lives at least, not yet. The air around me feels sterile, yet suffocating. It's a toxic mix of dread and denial that clings to the walls and presses on my chest as we sit to eat the tiny portion of food. My head spins as I try to process everything: the deaths, the sacrifices, the mind-numbing futility of it all. Lives lost in an instant, snuffed out like they never mattered.

And yet, the worst part? The nagging fear that my boyfriends might be next. The thought twists my stomach into knots.

God, I feel so fucking stupid for even being here.

“Hey, baby. What’s got you so lost in thought?” Suguru’s voice cuts through the haze, his arm draping around my shoulders like it can shield me from the weight of reality.

Satoru glances back, his striking blue eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous glint. “Just so we’re clear,” he announces, loud enough for the whole room to hear, “I’m not sharing my food.” His voice is so random, so absurd that I can’t help but chuckle despite everything.

Suguru snorts, clearly unamused. “You’re full of shit. Didn’t you just feed her your food last time?”

“I was only talking about you, babe,” Satoru grins, his eyes twinkling as he shoves a piece of bread into my mouth with far too much confidence.

They’re always like this joking, bickering, pushing each other's buttons. Even here, in the middle of a deadly game. It’s both a comfort and a curse. Because when they shift gears? When the game begins? They turn into something else entirely. Something terrifying.

“I hope we win this time,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just want to leave. I don’t want any more of this.”

Satoru hums, popping a bread into his mouth and eyeing me with that devil-may-care smile. "Well, let’s just pray the ones who begged to stay already met their unfortunate end..”

I frown, the bitter taste of unease crawling up my throat, but before I can say anything, Suguru adds, so casually, “We made sure at least one of them did.”

My heart drops, the food in my mouth suddenly sour. “What… what do you mean?”

Satoru smirks, leaning his chin on his hand like this is some inside joke I’m too slow to understand. “Don’t overthink it, sweetcheeks. Some people just aren’t cut out for survival.” His tone is smooth, but there’s a cold edge beneath it that sends a shiver down my spine.

Were they serious? Or were they messing with me? I can’t tell anymore, and that’s what scares me the most.

Dread

"The votings will now begin..." The announcement echoes through the room, a chill running down my spine. A heavy silence fills the air as everyone rises, some frantically whispering their last prayers, others nervously laughing, awaiting their fate. The tension is suffocating.

"How cruel," I mutter under my breath, my gaze flicking to the men beside me. I can feel the weight of their presence, their proximity pulling me in, both comforting and suffocating.

“Y/N, you’re standing too far away from us,” Suguru’s voice cuts through the murmur of voices, his hand suddenly on my arm, pulling me closer. I’m wedged between him and Satoru, the pressure of their bodies making my breath hitch. It’s protective, possessive like they’re making sure no one can get too close.

I should be grateful, right? But there's a strange gnawing unease in the pit of my stomach. What if something happens to them? What if I can’t keep them safe?

Before I can get lost in my own thoughts, it’s my turn to vote. I take a shaky breath as I step toward the platform, the chaos around me escalating people shouting, crying, pleading. The noise is overwhelming. But I don’t care. I press the red button with a trembling hand. I just want out of this place, away from the madness, the fear.

Then

A collective groan, followed by cheers and cries, fills the room as the decision is made. We’re staying. Another round. Tears sting my eyes, and before I can stop myself, they spill over. I hiccup, my sobs coming in uneven gasps, and I can't hide them anymore.

“Hey, hey, sweetie,” Suguru’s voice is soft, a contrast to the storm of emotions inside me. His hand tilts my chin up, his gaze intense as he meets my eyes. “It’s okay. It’s okay, shhh…” He pulls me into his arms, but no matter how tight he holds me, I can’t feel at ease. I want to scream. I want to make it stop.

“I got you both into this,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. “You two always protect me, but… but I’m the one putting you at risk.”

Suguru and Satoru exchange a look, but their faces are unreadable, a shared understanding flickering between them. Suguru pulls back, his hands still cupping my face, his touch gentle but firm. He wipes away my tears, his gaze softening, but there's an underlying intensity I can't quite place.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice low, every word wrapped in something that feels almost… dangerous. “Look at us. We’re here because we want to be. We chose to be with you, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if that means playing these games again and again.”

His thumb brushes over my cheek, the softness of the gesture masking the unspoken promise in his words.

“Besides,” Satoru interjects with a smirk, his attempt at lightening the mood falling flat. There’s something darker in his eyes, something calculating. “have you seen me out there? I’m a pro at this. You’ve got the best of the best protecting you, baby.”

I try to smile, but it doesn’t reach my heart. How could I not love them? They’re the only thing keeping me anchored in this nightmare.

"Sweetcheeks” Satoru adds, his voice dropping, his tone laced with something darker. “This is our decision. To be with you. To protect you. Nothing else matters. Understand?”

Before I can ask how they even got here, how they managed to bypass the system, I’m struck by the nagging thought that keeps haunting me. They’re too loaded with money to have been invited into a game meant for people desperate for cash. I can’t fathom how they managed to slip past the system, how they of all people could end up in a place like this.

The thought lingers, a sickening twist in my stomach, but before I can voice my confusion, we’re interrupted by the announcement of the next game. My heart thunders in my chest. I want to stay lost in their presence, to bury the questions and unease that are gnawing at me, but I know I can’t let my guard down not in this place.

We’re ushered into a new room, and my eyes dart around. The doors are different colors reds, blues, blacks each one more unsettling than the last. It feels… off. I turn to Suguru and Satoru, hoping for some sign of reassurance, but their faces are unreadable, their eyes sharp and calculating.

“What game is this?” My voice trembles slightly, and I can’t hide the unease in my chest.

“This one’s easy,” Satoru says, his smirk returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The cold calculation in his gaze gives me a chill. They're already thinking ahead, plotting moves, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of fear. I swallow hard, my stomach tightening.

Then I see them. Yuuji and Nobara. Their bright smiles stand out like beacons in the gloom, their youthful innocence a stark contrast to the twisted world we’re trapped in.

“Y/N-oneesan! Thank god you're doing okay!” Nobara calls, her voice bright and innocent, as though none of this is real.

“Yeah and we’ll get through this game, together again!” I say, trying to muster some semblance of courage. I don’t want them to see the fear that’s clawing at me from the inside.

But before I can say anything more, the voice of the game master booms, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“The next game will be ‘Mingle.’ A number will be announced, and you must quickly find your group and enter a room before the countdown ends. Failure to do so will result in elimination.”

The words echoed in my mind, and the first thought that came to me was that I had to prioritize them Suguru and Satoru. I groaned inwardly, the weight of the situation settling on me. This game… once again, I was going to be a burden because of my leg injury.

Let The Game Begin

The platform beneath us begins to shift, spinning slowly, and I’m pulled against Satoru’s side. His arm around my waist tightens, holding me steady as chaos erupts all around us.

“Four!” the announcer’s voice booms, and without hesitation, Suguru grabs my hand. Together, the three of us dash toward the nearest door, just making it through before another man squeezes in behind us.

Before I can catch my breath, Satoru pulls me into a dark corner, his body pressing close against mine. “Stay close, sweetcheeks,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with something dangerous and sweet, all at once.

The man inches forward, his eyes darting nervously between us. I glance at Suguru, who stands still, eyes locked onto the guy with an almost predatory focus.

"Two!"

The number echoes through the speakers, and my heart drops to my stomach. I gasp, spinning around to face them. “Y-you guys go with each other!” I shout, but my words feel useless. It’s like they’ve already planned it out in their heads, without even a glance at each other. Suguru doesn’t even hesitate he scoops me up into his arms, while Satoru bolts off in the opposite direction.

“NO! Please! Satoru! Suguru, just go with him!” I scream, my voice catching in panic. But they don’t listen. They’re already committed.

Suguru carries me into a nearby room, his grip firm yet oddly gentle, as if he’s trying to soothe me while everything around us falls apart. “Oh my god, Satoru…” I whisper, trembling uncontrollably, my mind racing.

“Shhh, baby, it’s Satoru. It’ll be okay,” Suguru’s voice is calm, but I can hear the edge in it he’s trying to reassure me, but even he knows there’s nothing really okay about this. I try to steady my breath, clinging to him for comfort.

“But what if—” I begin, only to be immediately cut off by Suguru’s voice, low but firm.

“You’ll hurt his ego if you think he’ll die over this. He’s not like them,” Suguru says, his words wrapping around me like a protective shield. But I can’t shake the feeling gnawing at me what if?

The sound of gunshots rings through the air, sharp and fast. My heart skips a beat, and I flinch, sinking into Suguru’s embrace as if it will somehow block out the noise. But it doesn’t. The gunfire continues, and my body trembles even harder.

Suguru holds me tighter, his arms tightening around me, though it doesn’t shield me from the fear. The only comfort is the steady beat of his heart and the knowledge that, for now, I’m alive. Safe.

Back in the platform a familiar voice cuts through the chaos, booming and undeniably confident. “I’m wounded, sweetcheeks. You think I’ll die over a game like this? Don’t lump me with them.” Satoru’s voice is loud, mocking the tension, even as the sounds of fighting continue around us.

Suguru growls in response, irritation flickering across his features. “Quiet it down, cocky bastard,” he mutters, his tone just as dangerous as Satoru’s bravado.

Despite the chaos unfolding around us, I can’t help but smile softly at Satoru’s voice, a sense of relief flooding through me. He’s alive. And that’s enough for now.

I don’t care about the judging stares or the whispers of the others. My hands find Satoru’s arms, gently caressing them, tracing the muscles I know so well. It’s my way of grounding myself in the moment. He’s here. He’s alive.

“Six!” The number rings out, but all I can hear are the panicked voices around me, the chaos intensifying. My heart races as I spot Yuuji and Nobara dashing toward us. “Yuuji! Nobara!” I shout, and they sprint over to us, barely slowing down before we all head toward the nearest door.

Suguru and Satoru are right behind us, each of them carrying an elderly woman between them. I breathe heavily in relief. Thank god they’re okay.

“Y/N oneesan, thank god you're safe!” Nobara's voice is full of worry as we hug, but my gaze drifts to the old lady in Suguru and Satoru’s arms, her frail body barely reacting to the chaos around her.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” I ask gently, but she doesn’t respond. Her face is pale, and I feel a pang of guilt. It’s like she’s completely checked out, her mind lost in some place far from this madness.

I can’t help but feel sorry for her, but then my thoughts shift back to the game. I just want my boyfriends to be safe, and honestly, that’s all that matters right now. I’m happy as long as they’re with me, but this game is getting worse with every passing minute.

When will this end? Are they planning to wipe us all out? The thought gnaws at the back of my mind, and I can’t help but feel the tension tightening around my chest.

The situation is spiraling out of control. People are fighting over doors now, desperate and vicious, as if they think that a door will be their ticket to survival. The fear is palpable, and it’s only growing.

"Three!" The number blares through the air, and before I can even react, Satoru grabs me, pulling me along with him as Suguru runs alongside us. Yuuji and Nobara split off, each taking their own path, but my mind is too clouded to follow them. All I can focus on is the one thing I can’t control.

“The doors!” I scream, panic flooding my chest as I watch them one by one slam shut.

“There!” Suguru yells, his voice sharp with frustration. His eyes dart to the door ahead of us, wide open, a moment of hope flashing across his face. We make a dash for it, only to come face-to-face with a man already inside.

“It’s taken!” I scream, my hands trembling as I turn, ready to find another exit.

But Satoru’s voice, cool and calm, interrupts me. “No, it’s not.”

I look up at him in confusion as he leads us inside. The countdown is nearing its end, and I can already hear the doors locking trapping us all inside with no way out.

“What do you mean? We’ll get killed if we’re more than three!” I say, my voice rising in panic.

Satoru chuckles, low and dangerously playful, his hands pulling me closer. “Baby, why don’t you just give me a hug?” His voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, a darkness hiding beneath the surface. I stare at him in confusion, but before I can respond, his arms wrap around me tightly, pulling my face into his chest. My heart pounds as his grip tightens, his presence overwhelming.

But then, it happens. I hear it the faint, desperate sounds of a man begging, pleading, “Pl-please, no!” My body goes numb, the blood draining from my face as I realize what’s happening. Suguru is going to kill him. I try to pull away, to stop it, but the door locks behind us. There’s nothing I can do.

The sounds of struggling of someone’s life slipping away—fill the room. I feel the urge to shout, to scream, to stop this madness, but it’s like I’m paralyzed. The door’s locked, my body frozen in place, but my mind races.

Why does this feel so... normal? Is it just survival instinct? Or is it something darker?

Satoru pulls away, his hands gently brushing through my hair, and I glance up, my heart sinking into my stomach. The man on the floor is lifeless, his eyes wide in death, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

“Y/N,” Suguru says softly, his voice almost tender as he approaches me. “It’s bound to happen.” His words should comfort me, but all I can feel is the growing weight of dread. I step back instinctively, and I don’t even realize it until I see the way Suguru’s gaze darkens.

“Are you scared of me?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper, but there's an intensity in it that makes my chest tighten. I can’t speak. I can’t even look at him.

“I... I...” I stammer, my voice faltering as I try to process everything. My eyes flick to the blood on Suguru’s face, and my stomach turns.

Suguru's voice, smooth and dark, cuts through the silence. “Y/N, you know what I said earlier, right? We’ll protect you, even if it means I have to kill again and again,” he says, his words light, almost playful. But there's a twisted edge to them that makes my skin crawl. Satoru spoke up reaching for me “It’s inevitable, baby. He was alone. He was going to die.” He smirks, his eyes glinting with something darker. “No biggie, sweetcheeks.”

No biggie? I feel my blood run cold, and my mind goes numb. Am I hearing this right?

I finally look up at them—Suguru with blood on his face, his eyes dark and unreadable, and Satoru, his expression that sickeningly serene smile, as if this is all part of some twisted game.

I’m scared. I’m so scared. The terror claws at my chest, making my hands shake. But... they’re safe. Right? Aren’t they?

They’re mine. They’ll protect me. But at what cost? As I stare at their faces Suguru’s sharp, calculating eyes and Satoru’s playful yet chilling smile I realize something deeper is happening.

I’m caught. Trapped between fear and longing, between the twisted desire to feel safe in their arms and the horrifying truth that safety comes with a price.

But then, as my heart races and my breath catches in my throat, I realize something else:

Isn’t this what I wanted? For them to be alive, no matter the cost?

[aquarines]

i really do hope we get sam reid in the writer's room, because i don't know if i can take any more lestat slander from some of the writers. the whole point of tvl is lestat telling his side of the story to louis. it's a love letter to him, explaining everything he couldn't while they were together. lestat isn't perfect, of course, but he's also generous and giving and awkward with some things. some of the writers have bought into the lestat self-hate, thinking that's who he actually is. hello!!! the man hates himself, thinks he's irredeemably evil, and in so doing, ACTS that way! hello!!! he isn't!!! it's been shown time and again from other characters that he's pretty great, if not a little insufferable at times. he is scared of being unloveable!!! WHEN HE IS SO LOVEABLE, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH, HE IS WORTH THE OCCASIONAL ANNOYING SHIT. you could spit in lestat's face, call his mother a whore, and then STAB him, and if he loves you he'd say "aww, someone's feeling grumpy : )" and then just keep going. THAT'S WHO LESTAT IS. (hi i have a cold and im thinking about him and all the missteps that happened in the show so far regarding his character).

heyo, sorry for the late(ish) response, and i hope you feel better now <333 drink some ginger and lemon tea, it always works for me (also lessen smoking if you do because it worsens the symptoms lol i speak from experience)

i basically agree with everything you wrote, like samuel is a true lestat understander in a way i feel some iwtv writers are simply not

like i wonder how they're going to adapt that part where he claims he seduced magnus and that's why magnus raped him into vampirism, if they take everything he says at face value

and yes his never ending tenacity and hope is one of his main traits, like he's literally "always turning the worst of a situation into something good" character embodied and it's what helps him survive all the shit anne puts him through in every book

like he got turned into a monster non-consensually and said "okay i'll be the best (i.e. the most a monster could be) monster you've ever seen"

also he simply does not give up on people no matter what they do to him!!! which is a coping mechanism but it's his whole thing!!! aaah i hope they translate this well on screen

yes he's a bit insufferable and does dumb shit some times (maybe a few more times) but what book or show character didn't?

anyways i love him your honour and i need tvl to be perfectly adapted or i'll be writing a strongly worded email to rolin jones (jk)

[mj-iza-writer]

Sp Special Containment Part 18

If you are new to this story or just need a reminder of how it is going, please use the hashtag Sp Special Containment to get caught up.

Whumpee leaned forward against the restraints so they could get better aim into the bucket.

They screamed as more puke came out.

"It is so hard... to throw up with these restraints", Whumpee complained.

"I know Whumpee", Caretaker looked at them sadly. They wished they could help more, "I'm sorry."

Whumpee was still in the medical wing.

They found it may not be food poisoning. More tests were running to see what was going on.

Whumpee was halfway through their IV at this point. They felt so gross now.

Whumpee was in a hospital bed designed for the weapons. The straps were just like how the wheelchair contained them. With the exception of their arms. They could be strapped in different positions for comfort and necessity. The bed could could also recline and be positioned in different ways depending on how the weapon wanted to rest or sit.

Whumpee sat up and leaned forward as much as the straps would allow. Caretaker held the bucket up for them for easy access.

Caretaker sighed as he wiped Whumpee's face again.

"I'm... sorry... Caretaker", Whumpee looked up weakly.

"It's not your fault. I'm sorry you're sick", Caretaker comforted, "let me get a new wash cloth for you."

Cass slid pass the guard, "still not feeling well?"

"No", Whumpee pouted, "I'm surprised I haven't puked my stomach out yet", they groaned.

The doctor came in behind Cass, "how's the patient? I just heard more throwing up."

"Is it possible to throw up organs.... because I think that's next to come up. I don't have anything else in me", Whumpee sighed.

"If it makes you feel better, we have found the culprit and cause", the doctor announced, "it's definitely food poisoning. Unfortunately, the kitchen staff had a new person prepping breakfast. They didn't pay attention to the dates on the packages. Expired food ended up in your breakfast."

"How does something like that happen? Their food is monitored so strictly. A new person shouldn't be handling food like that. At least not without supervision", Caretaker frowned, "this is not a good situation."

"I know. The Director is already aware and dealing with it", the doctor sighed, "on the positive side, this should only last a day or so, and I now know how to treat it. The negative side is that Whumpee is severally uncomfortable. We do not want to see any of our patients like this. Especially not the weapons, because of their survival mode possibly getting triggered."

Whumpee leaned into the bucket and gagged.

"I can't do.... do this anymore. It hurts too much to puke. Especially with the straps limiting my movements", Whumpee leaned back sorely.

"I understand. If Caretaker is okay with it, we can treat you while you're in your room", the doctor nodded, "I'd like to see you finish that IV first before you get moved back. At least so you're hydrated. Unfortunately, you can't take it with you because of the needle. You need to drink a lot of water, and there is a type of juice you can drink to help you with electrolytes and other good things that you are throwing up. You may need to come back tomorrow for another IV as well."

Whumpee nodded, " I am so tired."

"That is fine to have them back in their room. Just tell me what you'll need me to do for them", Caretaker stood, "they've had a long day, their room will be the best place for them."

Whumpee weakly fell into their bed.

"Thankyou for cleaning up in here... it smelt so bad", Whumpee frowned as Caretaker placed their puke bucket beside the bed, "I don't know if I have anything else to throw up."

"Cass and Andy cleaned it up for us", Caretaker smiled, "it definitely wasn't a good smell."

Whumpee looked around, "I never thought I'd miss this room so much, but I'm so happy to be in here again."

"I'm sure you are", Caretaker nodded.

"Okay, so remember what doctor said. You need to drink a lot of water to keep hydrated and this juice to help feel better", Caretaker placed Whumpee's drinks next to them, "doctor also said to get some rest. How about the guards play some soft music to help you fall asleep."

Caretaker pulled the blankets up for Whumpee and reached for their stuffie.

"I'm glad this didn't get dirty", Whumpee inspected it after Caretaker handed it to them, "I would have been really sad. It is the first comfort item I've had in a long time."

"Yes, I'm glad as well", Caretaker knelt beside the bed, "I will be around for another hour or so before I go to my room for the night. During the night, the doctor will have a nurse up here to help you in case you get sick again. I will tell you goodnight right before I'm off though... just like normal."

Whumpee nodded, eyes growing heavier, "could you please tell Aramais that I am okay. I know he was worried earlier."

"I will definitely let him know. I'll go tell him right now for you", Caretaker gently rubbed Whumpee's head and watched their eyes grow even heavier, "Goodnight Whumpee, get some rest."

Whumpee made a few small moans before they went completely out.

Caretaker waited quietly for a few minutes before signaling to the guards to buzz him out.

"Alright", Caretaker came around, "please let me know if there are any updates. Like I said a nurse will be up here to help with Whumpee through the night, but I can be called in as well."

Cass watched from the side, "I feel like I jinxed everyone this morning when I was hoping for more excitement."

"It's your fault", a guard turned with a grin.

"Sorry", Cass looked down with an embarrassed smile.

"It's the kitchen's fault", Caretaker frowned, "they need to pay more attention to what is going on. The weapons require strict diets for a reason", Caretaker sighed, "Whumpee hasn't eaten anything today because of this. The one meal they did eat was poison."

"They didn't even get any cookies today either", a guard frowned.

"I tried to give them some earlier. They had no interest", Caretaker pulled a bag from their pocket, "you know they're sick when they don't want any cookies."

"Well, I am going to let Aramais know that Whumpee is okay", Caretaker started for the door, "Cass I'm sure not much else is going to happen tonight. I hope at least. If you want to, you can go see how Mitch is doing. It will be lights out pretty soon for everyone. You're not use to the evening rounds. If you need help, you can message me, I'll be happy to help you."

"Yes sir, thankyou for training me today", Cass grinned, "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I hope you learned the second lesson..", Caretaker watched Cass's questioning gaze, "don't hope for action. You will absolutely jinx yourself, and have a hectic day."

"I definitely learned that", Cass nodded.

Aramais looked up when the buzzer went off.

"Oh, Caretaker! Um, sorry", Aramais lifted his blanket to cover his chest.

"No, no, you're fine", Caretaker entered fully and closed the door, "sorry to bother you, I know you're getting ready for bed."

Aramais nodded, "how's Whumpee?"

"That's why I'm here. Whumpee wanted me to let you know they were back in their room and doing alright. It was food poisoning from breakfast. Unfortunately, the kitchen staff wasn't paying attention and let something get pass them", Caretaker took a seat, "they will probably be down for a few days, but not too long. The doctor is watching them closely, and they have a nurse who will stay nearby for tonight."

Aramais looked down, "I'm so thankful that they're okay. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to Whumpee and Jaimie."

"Even when you get purple nurpled", Caretaker grinned and eyed Aramais's chest.

"Even then", Aramais laughed lightly as they looked down to where Caretaker was looking.

"I know you are self-conscious about the scars on your chest and back, and I won't ask about it, though I will happily listen if you want to share the story", Caretaker looked back up to look at Aramais's face, "don't ever be embarrassed or ashamed by something that happened to you in the past. No one in this facility will see you as weak for having those."

Aramais nodded, "I was, uhm", Aramais looked down again, "I was captured on one of my missions. My partner had gotten out and abandoned me for dead. Which was normal. We believed in fend for yourself, even when partnered with someone else. I was held prisoner and subjected to torture for months before I was able to escape."

Aramais sighed, "once I was out I had no where to go so I staggered all of the way back to the organization. Which looking back was a stupid choice, but I was young still", Aramais paused to control his shaking, "I thought I would receive some sort of comfort for what I had gone through... I didn't. I was subjected to rigorous questioning to make sure I hadn't become a traitor. After that, I was used as an example to the others. I was told that I should have killed myself. That would have been the best way to honor the organization."

Aramais moved the blanket to let Caretaker get a better look at the damage.

"They called them traitor markings. I was told to wear them shamefully", Aramais sighed, "to remember and remind others not to mess up. Even though I wasn't a traitor."

Caretaker sighed, then stood and walked to Aramais's bed, "the more I learn about you weapons, the harder I want to work to make all of you more comfortable. I want to work to protect you three so much."

Aramais smiled, "I can promise you. At least speaking for Jaimie, Whumpee, and myself. We feel the love and care you all give us, and we appreciate it. Even if it was half of what all of you do for us, it's would be appreciated more than you know."

Caretaker reached down and patted Aramais on the shoulder, "we are always happy to take care of you all. I'm just sorry for what all of you went through. I wish I could take it all away and let you three have normal lives."

Aramais smiled, "it's okay... I'm just glad I'm here now. I wouldn't have been able to meet all of you had I been given a normal life."

"Caretaker, I apologize the lights are about to dim" a guard came over the radio.

"I need to be going anyways. Aramais needs some sleep", Caretaker started to the door.

"Thankyou Caretaker", Aramais smiled, "I really appreciate you and all you do. You always know the right things to say."

Caretaker turned and smiled, "you're welcome Aramais. Have a good night."

"You too" Aramais watched them leave, then laid back down.

Caretaker watched Mcgee step out from Jaimie's monitor room.

They waved when they looked up and Caretaker waved back.

Caretaker wandered down a few halls in deep thought over the weapons. They were even able to watch Cass exit the facility to go home.

"They have so much promise", Caretaker whispered, "I just hope they don't get hurt doing this job."

Caretaker stretched tiredly, "well, you old man, I think it's time for bed. You may be getting a little to old for this now, but Whumpee still needs you. Retirement was never an option anyways I guess. Let's get to bed."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath

@porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst

@generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened

@freefallingup13 @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet

@whumpbump @skittles-the-whumpee

@expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson

@legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace

@whumpanthems @ivymyers @starfields08000

@a-living-canvas @lumpofsand

@watermeezer @indigoviolet311

@whumpy-mountains @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @castiels-favorite-hunter

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

@galatic-worm @starmoon-constellation

@bacillusinfection @whumpsandbumps

@tobiasbones @octopus-reactivated

@string-of-broken-hearts @weirdthingweee

Taglist for SP Special Containment

@written-by-jayy

@snakebites-and-ink

@makemake22

@gr33nhour

[sexisbetteronthemoon]

Is there any lore/world building in ur au that won’t be brought up in the the fic but is still a fun fact u can share?

thanks for asking, i'm delighted to answer!  i've been trying to incorporate as much as i can of the world through Keith's observations, but hmm well here's a few fun facts off the top of my head since i had too much coffee and am not getting any sleep anytime soon:

the planet is always trying to kill Keith in one form or another, and still, Keith loves it there.

there's mermaids!  they're not like the mermaid planet in vld.  to provide a comparison in human evolution terms, these are barely evolving from advanced australopithecus to homo erectus (they could still deviate into something else).  they're almost as smart as ravens and can use tools and mostly avoid surface waters bc there's often tidal waves that can sweep them out and strand them to dry out and die.  Keith has not yet discovered them.

the smartest animal on the planet is actually Kosmo's species!  they do not speak, but use body language and scent/chemo signals to communicate.  Kosmo is very confused as to why its adoptive parents do not understand it unless it's yelling at them (barking/growling/whining).  it'll get the gist eventually, it's still baby.  bonus:  the blink dogs can convert the radiation from the crystal fields into energy!  it's how they survive on such little food.  but like some animals, it needs more than one type of “food” to survive.

speaking of the crystal fields, there's more creatures there, including a few plants.

the desert is cold, yet dry/arid.  it's not uncommon for it to snow there in winter (just an inch or two), but the snow melts and evaporates pretty quickly.  Keith is actually a little afraid of this place because of the sandwalkers.  “the elephants of the desert”, they're simultaneously large and hard to see bc they're thin with four limbs and capable of flattening to burrow slightly in the sand to blend in.  they move silently and walk very slowly to conserve energy unless they've spotted prey, and everything that moves is prey.  they produce a kind of silk web they use to travel during wind storms bc they're very light.  they're also not very good eating, so most predator animals don't bother with them.  (if you're picturing a walking stick bug at around 11 ft long, you've got it!)

rock worms are based on the creatures in Tremors movies!  (which someone already figured out in the comments on that chapter, way to go!)  they differ from cave worms in that rock worms only eat rock and burrow into it.  cave worms eat excrement and apparently Lance's jumpsuit as well.

it was an earthquake that separated Kosmo from its family.  many died, but there were some survivors.  this will not become a problem until Kosmo is an adult, and thus beyond the story's end.  i may write a short one shot about it later on if anyone's interested.  in that same vein, i will likely ask before the last chapter, or after, if anyone has unresolved questions curiosities, etc. and i'll answer or make one shots about it once the main story is over.

the red light refraction is caused by a ginormous red crystal that lays in the path of the sun to cover the mountain range where Keith lives and hundreds of miles around it.  it can actually be seen from the ground level if you go up a tall tree (it is always visible from the mountain).  it's very big.  and yes, this does mean there there are places on Planet Red where redset doesn't occur and there's normal sunsets.  there's also places where there's redrises.

Allura met Lance's mother when she visited a beach on Earth (on a diplomatic mission to include Earth in the space council after the war) and she absolutely snuck away from her guards and party to hit on her while she was working, but ended up embarrassing herself and thought she'd ruined her chance.  but it made Lance's mother laugh and it completely won her over bc Lance's mom loves to laugh.

on the subject of the war, zarkon did not live thousands of years.  mofo died a regular ass death (as did honerva) and his descendants carried on the war for ages until an armistice was reached.

Planet Red used to be mostly covered in water until massive earthquakes and continental shifts brought land up and emptied the water out into oceans and seas.  this was hundreds upon thousands of years ago, however.  there is also a caldera beneath the jungle which keeps it warm.

the sun has a pair but it orbits too distantly to affect Planet Red.  it's a dwarf red and can be seen via telescope in the night sky.  Keith calls it “Little Red” (as in Riding Hood).

there's a mushroom forest with enormous mushrooms and tiny, humanoid fairies closer to the crystal fields, but they're basically wasps and very territorial.  if they sense something is a threat, they swarm, biting and scratching, until it leaves or they're killed.  they make hives in the gills of some mushrooms and are often targeted by birds and other creatures.  they need sodium and glucose and will enthusiastically feed upon blood to get it.  since it's so close to the radiation, Keith doesn't go there often.

once, Keith managed to convince Shiro (takashi as he's called in the fic bc they're blood brothers) that he's adopted bc Shiro doesn't look like either Heath or Krolia.  he does have Heath's chin, but that's it.  he mostly looks like Krolia's father, whom they've never met.  Shiro cried about it and Keith got grounded.  Shiro was just a preteen then.  (Keith was a whole menace and a half when he was kid.)  all three kids used to fight over the control of the big tv and Acxa always won bc she waited for Shiro and Keith to tire each other out before diving in and sitting on them until they surrendered.

“Kogane” isn't Keith's surname!  it doesn't come up at all, but since Shiro is the only one with a surname, i slapped that baby on the whole family.  only Shiro's friends call him as such.  (it felt weird to get rid of the “Shiro” nickname entirely for this fic, so i finagled it to still be possible, just not within his family unless Keith or Acxa is mocking him (as siblings do).

i hope you found these tidbits entertaining!  if you'd like more info, hit me up! ❤️💙

[areyoudoingthis]

Im sorry about this i need to rant. I thought things were getting better but Izzy stan Twitter is at it again with their whining, truth bending and self-victimising.

'Do you like OMFD but wish the queer disabled hero didnt die?' IZZY IS NOT THE HERO OF THIS SHOW!!!!! He is at best a reformed antagonist. What an insult to the other disabled characters, and what about the actual heroes of the show??

'We've been betrayed by straight man writing queer stories'. First of all, way to dismiss the other writers. Also, its not his fault you project your personal traumas and mental health on a fictional character on a show with death in the title.

'GB's ending is comphet (?????) because 'we only need eachother' and theyre breaking away from their queer community' ED HAS BEEN WANTING TO LEAVE PIRACY SINCE LAST SEASON!!! also, its progress that Stede was able to resist basic flattery. And David made it clear that they still have work to do. This one truly broke my brain.

Im just sick of all this. Izzy stans have been coddled for the past week, being told its ok to grieve, but theyve crossed multiple lines. I do wish some things had been more explicit in this finale, only because David overestimated the maturity and media literacy of some people.

Sorry for this but i needed to talk to people here. Its beyond annoyance at this point. Im angry and sick of petty crybabies actively working to poison what we've built.

YIKES. sorry your fandom space has turned into this anon. you can absolutely talk to me about the show any time you want, I'm on loving s2 lockdown for the next two years

i know that the atmosphere is completely fucked in some spaces, but personally, i've opted to block everyone with a bad take on sight and focus on the things i love about the show, because i realized that three days after the finale of one of my favorite seasons of tv ever made, the izzy ferals were completely taking over the conversation and i was hearing more about their deranged rants than about the things I'm actually here for (ed, stede, ed&stede, the crew, the wonderful season of tv we somehow managed to get in spite of hbo being horrible)

i get that it sucks that these people are out there harassing the writers and other fans because of their fixation with the one white guy they don't even really understand in the first place, and that their interpretations of the show overall are absurd and annoying, but this is the internet, unfortunately those takes aren't likely to go away any time soon (i've even heard they're starting their own conspiracy theories about how izzy isn't really dead, which brings back sooo many memories from so many different fandoms)

the point is they're not going to change their minds no matter how angry we get, so why waste our energy on yelling back at them when they're not even capable of hearing. let's make our arguments for ourselves, to reaffirm our love for the show, to have fun discussing our very sexy correct takes, to praise the writing and the acting and the costumes and the music and every bit of work that went into making this season. allow me to be cheesy and quote my guy here: let's turn the poison into positivity

[aquickstart]

ok sure i'll talk about farleigh start. i'll talk about his tragedy of never being enough as it were and then having to deal with fucking oliver. sure. disclaimer: it's about class (and race) and the horrible reality of the rich. the horrible reality of living as farleigh.

another disclaimer: i'm white! and poc definitely pick up on everything i'm talking about here as it is, and better. i was and am specifically interested in farleigh vs. oliver but it's impossible to examine without considering race. definitely let me know if anything abt this sucks!

farleigh and oliver are similar. it's annoying because every intruder that is not himself is annoying, partly because felix's attention swaying from farleigh is dangerous; there is always a threat of being discarded, even if no precedent existed. the potential is terrifying.

but you'd think he's seen this before, every summer (if venetia is telling the truth) or at least often enough to learn to recognize it fast, so he should know this will pass. part of it is i think still the deep anxiety, and i think he hated every boy that was there before, and it is sort of routine.

but definitely a huge factor in farleigh's annoyance is the fact that he's a biracial (black for cattons, that's all they see) man in a white rich household. he's alert and exhausted all the time. of course he's angry at oliver, regardless of whether he's the first to crash at saltburn for the summer or the fifty-first.

but the important thing is this.

farleigh is very jealous of and angry and pissed at oliver because farleigh sees all the similarities between them. outsider, in financial trouble, whatever it is, in need of cattons; and yet oliver is preferred. and farleigh seems to be the only one to really consider it. felix does not pick up on the hint when farleigh brings up the birthday party vs. his mother. felix's clumsy "different or... anything like that" is as much about race as it is about class, of course. the "we've done all that we can" bit is felix absolving himself of guilt because surely they had, surely the mysterious collective cattons that he's not really part of had tried all they could do. to him, farleigh is different from oliver, because farleigh has been helped. felix is rich and white and twofold uncomfortable with farleigh, even if he's nice about it, even if he genuinely enjoys his company; he doesn't look too close at farleigh because he feels too guilty to come too close. and farleigh can't do anything about it. he can't nice himself into it. the fucking tragedy of him is that he's never enough in the world of the ultra-rich white, even if (especially because!) he's born into it.

farleigh is very pissed at oliver because farleigh also sees all the differences between them. you know who can be nice poor white enough to fit in? fucking oliver. felix says "just be yourself, they'll love you" when oliver first moves in. farleigh was also probably told the same thing, and felix also probably believed that farleigh could just be himself, but even if the cattons were magically not racist at all (impossible), it wouldn't make a difference to farleigh. he would still self-censor, keep in check, be in dangerous waters (because racism is not just about the individual, but about the system). we see that he'd won himself leeway by years of trial and error by the way he speaks to the family, but it's still within the boundaries of acceptable, built by the cattons. he's part of them because they allow it, and farleigh is very, very aware.

the annoying thing is oliver can be himself. like, truly, genuinely, he can just be. and farleigh can't help but envy that.

as a side note, oliver is obviously jealous of farleigh in the beginning as well, because regardless of the reality of farleigh's situation, he was born into it, and hence, at least in oliver's mind, has his position solidified. oliver's whole thing is unquenchable thirst and hunger for whatever and everything the cattons have (including themselves!). he wishes to have been a catton from birth. to oliver, at first, there's nothing farleigh can really do to lose it. and until he figures out the cattons completely, he can't help but envy that.

but i think farleigh senses something different about oliver early on. at least on the level of the text, we have "you're almost passing [for] a real, human boy", which is so important because farleigh is the first to point out oliver's weirdness. the next to do so is venetia in the bath scene calling him a freak, but it's too late. farleigh is too early.

and i like to think he clocks oliver too early because he sees the jagged edges that he recognizes in himself. i think that one other thing that farleigh envies is oliver's freedom to let go. freedom to let go is very similar to freedom to be, but not quite the same.

to be is about perception: farleigh knows he cannot fall out of line, but would like to, and oliver does not have to worry about it at all (i mean, he does, because oliver also performs for felix, but farleigh doesn't know that).

to let go is about the self: farleigh is too scared to even want what oliver eventually does, to even consider the possibility. oliver can let himself want. oliver can let himself act. oliver just can do things and want things. i'm not sure farleigh can.

and so in this scene, when oliver's wants and actions have landed him nowhere with farleigh, felix, venetia, the cattons, of course farleigh gloats. he can let himself do that, because if the cattons are slowly discarding him, farleigh can allow himself this one small victory. he's relieved because despite the dangerous similarities, oliver is, thankfully, not really the same as farleigh, right?

but like. this movie is a love letter to all things gothic. oliver is a white man. he prevails. the brief performance that oliver put on did eventually end up more effective than farleigh's lifetime of constraint. my heart fucking breaks for him to be honest.

the issue that remains is the fact of farleigh's survival. i like to think that oliver came to respect him. oliver is smart, but farleigh is clever. he picks up on everything oliver does (to refer back to the karaoke scene, farleigh immediately retaliates in the cleverest way, in the moment), and he's the only one to do so consistently (venetia, again, for example, comes close, but too late; oliver doesn't like that, there's nothing to work with). hence, stay with me for a little longer, the paradox: farleigh survives because he was never enough for the cattons, but he is very worthy of oliver's attention. in his own freaky way, oliver wants him. look at that.

so. farleigh. farleigh might come back. he always comes back. and i think oliver wants to try harder next time.

[teatitty]

KakaIru bodyswap trope but it's just them going "god you LIVE like this???" about eachother's health because Kakashi is always some kind of chakra drained and Iruka's back is never not hurting in some way so they're both just chronically fatigued and handle it very differently

[swordduels]

Clarimonde screamed from the top of their lungs while sinking down on their knees. One hand laid against their chest with a hard grip as they felt Pan’s presence disappearing. The last thing they felt and heard was his confusion about being taken away. His scent of sweet tree sap and the strong grip of his tiny hand was already beyond the horizon. With him being dragged away Clarimonde felt so empty not to feel his heart when it had always been laying beside her own ever since he was slowly developing in the womb. Pan’s mind had not been with Clarimonde as long but they still missed its presence filled with curiosity and wonder. They couldn’t feel Pan’s many emotions or what could only be described as his inner voice. Though it wasn’t words per say but images of what they wanted to convey. Pan had no concept of how to form words or understand what was told around him but Clarimonde could communicate with him mentally and use feelings or send images back. “Please be safe…Pan. My little boy.” 

Clarimonde didn’t waste time once they had properly grieved the abrupt separation. Their first task was to search for warmer clothes, proper footwear and weapons of any kind. Weapons in this small goat herder area were very sparse and next to inconsequential. 

The lord owning this land had felt no need for sword productions or spending money on preparing soldiers since she spread money around to keep a peaceful agreement. Unfortunately for Clarimonde and the nobles it did nothing to prevent Capella’s intrusion and destruction. It also gave Clarimonde less to work with regarding self defense. After much searching through crumbling ruins they found a kitchen knife sharp enough to cut through animal bones, a pair of sickles and an ice pick. Each tool was good enough for close combat and had to do until Clarimonde could get a hold of a sword. 

While looking through the area Clarimonde found themself back to what once had been a home for them since leaving Capella’s coven. They slowly picked up Pan’s plush toy resembling a grey goat with buttons for eyes. It was hand sewn by Clarimonde during their pregnancy but before leaving the coven. While reminiscing about sewing it they held it close to inhale Pan’s scent. “I’m coming for you. I promise.” Clarimonde took a shivering breath before placing it in a backpack together with his blanket with yellow ducks, survival equipment and food supplies. The knife and ice pick were properly in their blade protections in leather straps to hold them at Clarimonde’s hips. At the opening of their backpack lay both sickles. Clarimonde looked around one last time before using a ribbon to tie their long hair into a ponytail and taking the backpack before leaving to reach south for a larger city. - - - Pan whimpered in a low tone as he was met with cold air during the long flight. Everything was vibrating under him and it almost reminded him of when mama gently moved his crib back and forth in a lulling motion. When looking around he was met with a large female animal with scary eyes. Other than that he saw a wide sky with fluffy white clouds. Mama always told Pan where they were going but this time he wasn’t prepared at all. His eyes flickered in different directions before he began to suck on his thumb. Soon he couldn’t see the sky anymore as Capella closed her claws into a ball. After a long, long time he was seeing new strange things hard for him to grasp. A large mountain. More big animals. Bright candles. Pan began to whimper again before crying loudly as he was laid down. It was so cold. He wanted his blanket and his crib. Where was his soft goaty? Where was mama? Arms and legs moved around aimlessly while he tried to call for help. Mama always came running when he cried. Soon the cries slowly turned into curious blurbing noises as he saw and heard people. His small little heart was beating so loudly while he blinked away tears. The thumb snuck into his mouth again- Pan didn’t know these people.  Everything smelled so strange.

Pan furrowed his eyebrows and moved his hand to grab hair as someone picked him up. “Mmammmmummnam.” He moved around restlessly and let out loud sounds while being carried through strange roams. His tiny hand gripped harder. “Ma, ma, mam, mama.” @fallesto

The dragon's fortress was a massive structure of black stone, jutting out of the mountain like a jagged tooth. It was a place of awe and fear for the infant, a place where no human ever dared to venture. The journey was swift, the dragon's wings beating against the air like the drums of war. Pan clutched into the claws and slept, the tiny fists balled up in the fabric of there clothes, eyes squeezed shut as the world below grew smaller.

As they approached the fortress, the air grew colder, the wind more biting. Pan’s eyes widened as they took in the grandeur of the dragon's abode. 

The walls were etched with ancient runes that danced in the flickering torchlight, whispering secrets of power and protection. The gates were massive, easily twice the size of any Pan had ever seen, and made of a metal that gleamed even in the fading light of the setting sun. The sound of metal grating against stone echoed through the mountain pass as the gates slowly parted to reveal a courtyard filled with dragons of various sizes and colors.

The dragon's landing was gentle despite the fierce beating of her wings. She set Pan down on the cold stone, her eyes never leaving the child's face. The other humans here, followers and servants parted to make way for them, their curiosity piqued by the human presence. Pan looked around, his eyes wide with wonder, tears drying on there cheeks as they took in the new surroundings. 

The dragons' scales shimmered in the torchlight, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the ground. The cobblestones beneath their feet were worn smooth from centuries of dragon claws, and the smell of burning wood and roasting meat filled the air.

The fortress's interior was warmer than the infant had expected, with large fires roaring in the hearths and thick fur rugs scattered across the floors. They walked through winding corridors, passing by storerooms filled with gold and treasures that made Pan head spin. Yet, all they could focus on was the pit of dread in their stomach, the fear for themselves growing with every step they took deeper into the dragon's lair. This was there home now, until payment would be sent and the deal finished.

[puhpandas]

I love ggy so much how did they accidentally make the most intriguing hypothetical gay romance ever

[cream-and-tea]

oh pallas and agnes power dynamic you really are SO unbelievably fucked,,,,,

[the-woman-upstairs]

It’s just…so painful to watch Armand readily submit in order to obtain the love he so desperately craves. And while it’s most assuredly a manipulative tactic, it’s still one borne out of fear and desperation. He cannot lose this person he’s come to love and so will become whatever they want, do whatever they want just so they’ll stay with him. But it won’t be enough. No matter how much he acquiesces or seeks to control (himself, others, the environment), he won’t be able to make Louis stay with him in the perfect life, perfect self he built in the hopes of finally being loved. It will all crumble with Armand left alone in the rubble of what he created, the author of his own abandonment.

[cherry-treelane]

I find it so ironically funny when hardcore Debbie defenders use the defense that she was just a victimised teenage girl (agreed) and then proceed to slander Fiona and express their hatred for her character and lack of sympathy

as if being an adult magically absolves an individual of the horrifying trauma that precedes them and screws up their mentality and actions

funnily enough these people get mad at others for "expecting Debbie to be an innocent angel and hating on her for acting out as a result of trauma" (also agreed, debbie does deserve more sympathy, she can't be expected to grow up to be a perfect saint when she's been through so much) yet seem to hold Fiona to the same unattainable standards and put her on a pedestal as if she wasnt a child that was forced to intensely grow up while never actually being raised

like lets put this into perspective and remember that fiona grew up surrounded by corrupt morals and insanely screwed up behaviour yet still emerged as messed up, yes, but surprisingly good considering the situation she was in??? she had to navigate basic things such as morals and being a good, responsible person on her own. imagine how difficult it must be to lead a bunch of kids, including yourself, with no previous role model or good example of your own to follow. most of the time, she always tried to do what she thought was best and would have the most desirable outcome

[ozcarma]

Does anyone else feel like the incinerator gun chair room from Zero Time Dilemma would have better fit C Team instead of D Team