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leclsrc · 2 years ago

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sweet pea ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, dad charles/pregnancy au, fluff!, humor, super slight angst

word count: 4.6k

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?” “Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm.”

Or: you finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

notes... some nsfw allusions, nothing too bad. if pregnancy isnt ur thing this is all about it so.

auds here... i hated this for a long time so i thought id never post it hahahah but i will now bec i just redid some scenes and its okay in my eyes... also this is a bit overdue. i hope u like it everyone! :) title from this

It’s an hour before the race and you’re absent from your usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, you’re leaned against the wall of the tiny motorhome bathroom, silently digging your toes into your sandals. Charles knocks twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. He beams when he sees you, goes, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He offers a hand, but you let your eyes shut, refusing to take it. You fail to even make eye contact, holding up the plastic stick that’d been in your clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s an omen, a portent, a cursed thing, casting your best friend into silence.

It’s cold and sterile in the bathroom—a stark contrast to where other families might find out they’re pregnant for the first time. You imagine a lemon yellow room bathed in noon sunlight and a happy balding doctor going “It’s positive, mama!” You picture a white family SUV in the parking lot, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness.

Instead, you get: “Do you have COVI—oh.”

“Yeah.” You say, pursing your lips. You swallow. “Oh.”

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?”

“Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm,” you counter, lifting yourself from the wall and bumping past Charles on your way out and into his room. He follows, brows knitted together, muttering something French under his breath.

“By that logic, that’d mean you’re an alien now, too. See, your kinks have finally met their match.”

You turn, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He almost collides with you, his eyes trained determinedly on the positive pregnancy test in his hand. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Seriously. Jokes? Right now?”

“I mean—”

“Whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Just go and drive. We can talk about this later.”

“I’ll dedicate the race to the little alien.” He giggles, mimicking a champagne spray, waving the invisible bottle back and forth toward your still-not-showing stomach. His accent switches to a measly English one when he goes, “Oh my Gawd! And there goes the alien Leclerc! Wins in first! From pole!”

“Get out. Or so help me God this baby is growing up without you.”

He ends up winning. (“Should I dedicate every race to the ali—” “Stop calling it that.”)

—

This is nothing but a final culmination of your very layered relationship with Charles. For years, you two had comfortably gone by the “best friends” label, with a hidden “with benefits” clause. You’d grown up together, separated only when you went to university in New York. Your re-arrival in Monaco, coupled with the both of you having grown older and more independent, marked the start of the sex.

It works like clockwork. To relieve stress, to celebrate, to cure boredom. At some point, both of you just inwardly admitted there was a certain weakness to it. A glass of wine, a stick of tobacco, and you’d give in to the temptation easily. Then, in the morning—sometimes in Monaco, other times in foreign countries where your body feels like it’s still three a.m.—you come to a mutual agreement to never do it again.

But you always do, laughing in between kisses, mumbling whispered nothings between the sheets (or in the bathtub, or against the wall, or—that one time—on the balcony.) And now there’s proof of it. Well, barely any yet, you realize, staring at yourself in the mirror of Charles’ hotel room. You turn and flop yourself onto the bed, but face-up. You inch yourself toward the headboard and lean against it in a half-seated position.

“I can’t believe I’m…” You sigh. Finally, the jokes fizzle. This is the real talk.

Charles burrows himself next to you, shirtless and in a stupid pair of boxers with red hearts all over them. You’d gotten them as a Valentine’s Day gag two years ago, but now you’re thinking of the future, of telling this kid their dad has a pair of heart-decorated boxers. Momentarily, and temptingly so, you weigh the options of telling Charles you were joking and running away before sunup.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks. He’d learned the phrase from some obscure American rom-com, if you recall correctly. He uses it constantly, and for many years, improperly.

“I’ll give you them for free,” you say, breathless with worry. “We’re having a kid.”

A hand places itself on your knee. You almost jerk away, but you relax. “What do you want to do?”

“With?” You ask, emptily. There’s so much to do. “The baby?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but also us.”

“We’re not dating,” you say, a bit sharper than intended.

“We could.” He pauses. “For its sake.” He pokes your abdomen.

“I don’t—” You inhale, trying to reorganize all your thoughts. “I don’t want people thinking we’re suddenly dating and engaged and happy just because I’m about to pop a Charles Jr. out. I mean, what are you going to do with your racing? With a kid on the way, how’s travel going to work? My job? My masters?”

“I think… I think you and I are lucky enough,” he says slowly, “to be able to weigh all these options without losing too much time or resources. I will support you no matter what, and you know that. And really, who cares if people think we ‘date’ because of the baby? You and I have been ‘dating’ since we were eleven.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until your laugh is mixed with a sob. You don’t know if you’re sad, pissed, overwhelmed, loved—or all four. “Okay? So… let’s both think about it. More you than me. And tomorrow, we can weigh this all over again. Let’s sleep on it. Remember? La nuit—”

“—porte conseil,” you finish tearily. “Okay.”

—

It’s two weeks later. Charles gets stuck in the paddock doing something or other for Sunday, so you’re left to your own devices in the parking lot. Five minutes of waiting turns to fifteen, then a half hour. That’s the catalyst for your mid-evening freakout—suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you and this weird thing inside you might be alone, left for work, by an athlete dad.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks when you’re heaving out another dry, panic-induced sigh. You turn, finding it familiar, and see Seb behind you. He may have been Charles’ teammate, but he’s a friend to you, too, and you find he’s always the most grounded in heated discussions.

“Seb,” you croak, caught off guard. “I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the ine, and suddenly fat tears roll quietly down your face.

You tell him eventually, when he asks you again if you’re okay, making him the second person to know; still, the telling doesn’t get easier. You didn’t even tell Charles, you think. You merely shoved a Clearblue stick in his face and waited for the goofy reaction that would undoubtedly meet your ears.

“A baby,” he says softly. Happily. “Congratulations. This is a big step… but you don’t sound excited.”

“I mean,” you say in between waves of tears, “I am? I am. But—it happened so fast—we’re not even officially together—and Charles is—”

“Do I need to talk some sense into Charles?” Seb asks suddenly, concerned.

“No. He’s—he’s being great. Really supportive.” You wipe the tears and fresh ones come. “He’s happy. You know him. I think I’m just overwhelmed. I mean I’m the one who’s toting this baby around.”

“Take it one step at a time,” he muses. “See a doctor, work out non-race schedules with Mattia, get everything in order. If I know you, this baby will be in the best hands. And that’s not even counting Charles.” He pulls you in for a hug that lasts ages, one that says thank you and I love you better than words. You inhale, find the tears have stopped. You realize what comes after this—it’s telling everyone else. Lily, your best friend. Carlos. Charles’ family. Your family. The fans, oh God you’d forgotten about the fans. The social media announcements.

Charles strolls into the parking lot—runs, more like, with apologies spouting out of him, just two minutes after Seb leaves. He presses a delicate, apologetic kiss to your forehead, a hand on your stomach. “Hey,” he says. Then, to your abdomen, covered by a sweatshirt, “Hey there, alien.” You wonder what this will be like in two months. In seven. In nine.

—

You tell your families over lunch on a lucky off day. There is little surprise—just tears from both your moms and Arthur teasingly asking you to recount the details of conception. You’re in a sundress serving crostini when Pascale pulls you aside to the back of the yard.

She presses a kiss to your cheek, one of conviction and faith. “I always knew,” she says. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”

—

The drivers all find out one way or another, news trickling through the grapevine like honey. You share it to Lily first, and of course she tells Alex. You tell Lewis, too, over spring rolls that he claims will power up the baby when it’s born. Charles tells Pierre, who tells Yuki, and Carlos, who tells Lando. You tell Mick, who hugs you and says, “Oh my god! I already knew, Seb told me. I kept wanting to say congratulations.”

It’s a matter of two weeks before everybody knows. You know because you’ve barely taken a step into the dimly lit Ferrari motorhome when you halt and bolt back outside, harboring yourself a few metres away at a safe distance. Charles, who had been walking beside you, arm looped around your waist, turns, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“No. Nuh-uh. It smells in there.”

He sniffs the darkness, fumbles for the light switch. “No it doesn’t.”

“It smells like”—you grit your teeth, trying to identify the stench—“cheese. And champagne.”

“Why would it smell like che—”

He bangs the light open and illuminates a surprise party. The entire grid starts cheering, having unheard the entire conversation. There’s a huge banner that says CONGRATULATIONS PARENTS, and on a makeshift table in the centre, an assortment of cake slices, cheese, and flutes of champagne. Charles laughs with delight at the surprise, and then turns to find you squatting on the ground, trying to quell your stomach.

“Give me five,” you say, waving him off.

He returns after ten to find you still trying to calm the waves of nausea. You hear his footsteps and heave yourself up, standing to face him. “I asked Esteban and Max to evacuate the place of cheese and champagne. It’s just coffee and cake now. I even got three fans going.”

“Desolée,” you say, miserable. He wraps two big arms around you, nestling his chin atop your head. “I feel like a high-maintenance monster.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not the monster. The alien is.”

“I told you to stop calling it that,” you say, shutting your eyes and leaning into his touch. “Before it catches on.”

“Okay. E.T.? Spock? Open to suggestions.” Hand in yours, he walks you gently to the party, arising loud cheers again. In between sips of hot water, he says, “How about Chewy?”

—

The sense of smell proves to be useful in endeavours elsewhere.

“You never clean your car,” you say, lying horizontal on the leather seat and picking bits of dirt off. “I can smell month old Cheetos.”

Charles watches you obsessively nitpick at the detailing. “Last time you looked like this, I gave you a baby.”

“One more word,” you warn sharply.

“But seriously, be careful. The alien might get stressed.”

You brace yourself for the stupid words that will indubitably follow.

“Don’t worry. If it falls out I’ll plop it in a race car and it’ll be the next Hamilton. Imagine how light it’ll be.”

There it is.

—

Your first trip to the doctor’s is interesting. Charles insists on wearing a wig because he’s so easily recognized in Monaco, so now you look like you’re conceiving a baby with Weird Al Yankovic.

The doctor wheels in a cart with a monitor and all the necessary equipment, and even if it suddenly feels all too real, Charles squeezes your hand and you’re calm again. “I’m back,” she says, sliding into a wheely chair beside you and gelling your stomach.

“Hi, Back,” Charles responds in a crude, twangy Texan accent. The dad humor starts early, you suppose.

You grit your teeth to try and excuse his embarrassing behavior, but suddenly the monitor clicks open and there it is. It looks like the ones in movies, print-outs from friends, but at the same time it doesn’t. It looks different. Special. Yours. You zero in on it, breathless. That’s yours. The doctor says a couple minor things—nothing worrisome—and when you turn to relay it to Charles in case he’d zoned out, you find his face splotchy.

“Are you crying?”

“That’s ours,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s mine and Charles’, not mine and Bob Ross’,” you say, but you pull him closer anyway.

You order two printouts. The week next, you discover that Charles snuck back in to order an extra eight and has mailed them out to friends and drivers. You find out because Kylian Mbappe messages you “Due in April? Make me godfather!” on Instagram.

—

Gradually, you fall into a pattern of being queasy constantly. You get nitpicky with meals, and not irrationally—Charles had fed you a spicy hotdog and you’d gone half a bite before hurling it, and your breakfast, into the nearest toilet. You find solace in your cravings—all of which happen to be the same everyday.

Chinese takeout from just about any restaurant ends up being your best friend. You somehow can’t stomach anything but that specific cuisine, much to your own surprise. You find new ways to combine them with each other. Rice paper wrappers with chow mein. Hotpot with fried rice. If you’re not eating Chinese, you reduce your appetite to crackers or hot tea to avoid becoming too nauseated.

It’s poetic almost, the way he sets out the food carefully, in the order you like them. He always presses a kiss to your forehead after.

Around this time, you develop a crazy sex drive, waking Charles up at numerous points of the night, begging into his neck for something, anything. You last an hour before you’re asking again. This proves especially difficult before races, where Charles gives in a bit too easily and Carlos has to knock on the door, going “You have to finish somewhere else too, Charles!”

—

You insist Charles hold off on telling the fans, for a few months. It goes okay until your outfits on the paddock evolve into the variety of “Charles’ hoodies” to hide the increasingly evident bloat of pregnancy, and nosy fans start speculating all over Twitter. That’s when he sits you down and gently tells you he thinks it’s time you both announce it.

You’re sitting beside him in his hotel room, after two calls with his bosses, trying to formulate the proper announcement. You download PicsArt to make it pretty and clean and formatted—because the poor guy was about to post a Notes app screenshot—and then it’s on the Internet.

“She’s truly MOTHER,” one fan comments. Despite yourself, you press the heart icon beside it. It’s your bit of comfort when you catch sight of the nastier comments under the post.

—

You’re ironically gifted an ancient 80s aerobic exercise DVD for mums by Lily and Alex. You’re sure it’s older than you. Charles, though, in his valiant effort to connect with you and Chewy, does the routine everyday. You wake up to the electronic synthpop and Charles doing booty squats in the living room.

The permed instructor smiles through the scratchy 80s quality and goes, “You are rocking it, momma!”

“You hear that?!” Charles pants. “I am rocking it!”

—

Your first parenting fight ends up being one over the baby’s name. Yeah. Of all things. You don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, considering you don’t even know the gender of the baby yet. You arrive in Monaco to mark the first of five off days and Charles makes some random, offhand joke about naming the baby Daryl, and you suddenly start rambling on and on about how it’s too ugly, even if you’d never thought about names before now.

“It’s not going to be Daryl. It won’t be Daryl,” Charles says, hands on your shoulders. You heave another sob. “Please stop crying. You never cry. I’m a bit freaked out.”

“It’s—just—that,” you hiccup, “I—don’t—want to name a—our—baby—Daryl.”

“Yeah, yep,” he says, soothingly. “I got you. It’s not going to be Daryl. Never. We don’t need to decide anything. You gonna calm down for me?”

“I can’t—stop—crying,” you snivel desperately, burying your face in your hands.

He presses a firm kiss to the corner of your quivering lips, and you tug him in for a real one. You calm down when you pull away, exhaling. You gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Blame the alien,” you sniff.

He kisses your stomach, which shows signs of pregnancy more and more as the days pass. “Hear that?” He whispers into the skin. “She’s blaming you, Chewy.”

—

Your next trip to the doctor’s is with your appointed private physician, Dr. Davies. Two minutes before the doctor walks in, you make a serious and compelling order for Charles to remove the Weird Al wig, which he does—but stores in your bag, “just in case.” It’s also his opporunity to play teacher’s pet and showcase how involved he is in your pregnancy, which, judging by the amount of weird cultish pregnancy books he’s burned through, is very much so.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” you declare while you’re being gelled up. You’re past the point of denial and bloat, now showing way too obviously. “Mom’s intuition.”

“Well, all the books say it’s a girl,” he says proudly.

“Yeah, they also say drinking lemon juice while trying to conceive gives you a girl. I’m sure scientific accuracy was their greatest objective.”

“Girl.”

“Boy,” you say dismissively.

“Girl.”

“Boy.”

“Girl.” It’s not Charles this time, it’s the physician, with a small smile on his face.

You squeeze Charles’ hand so hard you’re half sure it’s chipped off and fallen to the tiled floor. You’re having a girl. Normally Charles would turn and make some petty statement about he’d been right, but—you’re having a girl. A pretty baby girl. You almost can’t believe it. He totally can’t, pressing kisses to your hair and face.

You let him buy pink paint later that day.

—

You predict it, but it comes—fights and squabbles over nothing at all.

First it’s about work, then housing, then his job, then the danger of his job. It’s petty, and usually you storm off in an emotional cloud of irrationality, brought down after a talk, a play-by-play, compromise, reassurance. It’s hard when you’re carrying around a human being, you want to say. Try being in my shoes.

“Can we talk?” Charles says, in the thick of another fight. You’re on the balcony of your flat, mulling over nothing at all. Your stomach is heavy, you’re always exhausted, you never feel pretty anymore even if Charles is always unfailing at telling you you are.

“Okay,” you murmur, turning. You’ve already developed a habit of placing your hands on your bump always.

He inhales. “I’m scared.”

This is a first. And you realize—in these six months of being pregnant, Charles has been your rock, but has never expressed much fear until now. He’s always been good. Great. Supportive. “Of what?”

“Of—becoming a dad.” He pauses, as if to weigh his words. “I don’t have… a blueprint anymore.”

It dawns on you what he’s talking about. You accept the hug when it comes, holding the nape of his neck. He isn’t crying, but is close to it. His voice is shaky when he continues, whispers against your ear. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

“Baby,” you say, weakly. You push him gently so he’s looking into your eyes. “If the way you’ve taken care of me the past how many months is any indication of how you’ll treat this alien, I know she’s in good hands. You’ve got so much of your dad in you. You’re caring, sweet, you even got a headstart on the dad jokes.” He laughs. “I want this. And the only reason I ever did was because I knew you’d be with me, being an amazing dad, and an even better…”

“Boyfriend,” he says. His eyes hold hesitance—but you quell it with a nod.

“Boyfriend,” you echo. “For now.”

—

The nursery looks like a nursery in February. It was a storage room in Charles’ flat that had really, at some point, become yours, too. Full of boxes and old suits and memories, it’d taken weeks to properly store everything and make way for the furniture. Charles, of course, insists on painting it himself, with the shade of pink he purchased especially for the room.

He hits his head twice and touches the wet paint. There’s a handprint embossed above the bassinet. (Yours is next to it, at his insistence.)

—

You’re a yoga ball by mid-March, having trouble sleeping and dealing with everything being swollen. Charles helps you through it all, turning the heating up and down every time you get even a bit scratchy with the temperature in the flat or motorhome. Your cravings also morph again at this point, into rigatoni that Charles cooked sometime over winter; he requests Ferrari add an induction stove to every race weekend motorhome that you can make it to so he can cook it at your beck and call.

The season begins. Every race is dedicated to Chewy, and every race is won.

—

It’s early morning in late March when Dr. Davies sends you an email with a one-liner that sounds firm enough to set you and Charles in place after two races that involve you being flown around.

Absolutely NO more air and long car travel for Mommy.

“Can we manage?” You mope, rereading the email, genuinely distressed as you watch your boyfriend pack for Australia. It’s a long haul flight, with only one stopover in Zurich, and you’re filled with anxiety. There isn’t a compromise—until you’re popping the baby out, Charles needs to try and score the title.

“You know I can always drop out of races,” he says softly. “That’s what reserve drivers are for.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “I’m just worried.”

“You’re not due ’til the 12th,” he assures you. “I’ll be back then, even if it means dropping a race.”

He leans down and kisses you softly, rubbing your shoulders and ankles. “I’ll be back before you know it. Get some sleep first, okay?” He repeats the sentiment to your stomach, adding a kiss and a bye bye Chewy. You drift off to a sorrowful sleep when he departs, a slow ache in your lower back blooming that feels just like many of the other slow aches lately.

You’re up after a half hour with discomfort. You suppose something is just up with your sleep position, and readjust yourself. The discomfort sharpens, then melts. You sigh with relief, a long whistley exhale, and sleep again.

Bliss lasts about three hours, then you’re up again, groaning. You’re not due for a prenatal yoga class until four in the afternoon, and your body isn’t used to being awake. Hell, it’s not used to being this pained. You shift once, twice, trying to sleep with fruitless and exhausting attempts. It takes a while, but in between shifting positions and trying to make yourself yawn, it registers.

“Chewy.” You groan, cupping your gigantic bump. “Seriously?”

—

The first person you call is Charles, naturally. He should be in Zurich, but maybe signal is spotty or something, because none of your texts or calls ping. So you move down the list to the person you know will be in Monaco and not off racing, like everybody you know is—and it just so happens to be Dr. Davies.

You always thought Charles would be nowhere but beside you when you went into labor. But you’re here clutching the straps of your overnight bag being driven to the hospital, exhale, inhale, try Charles, try Carlos. Exhale, inhale. Try Charles. Try Carlos. Your contractions don’t quell; they only grow in intensity and you wince the whole ride through.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fast labor,” Dr. Davies says when he’s done checking you in and making sure everything is in order. You nod, breathless and flushed. You’ve called your mum here and she’s on the way with Charles’ but—Charles is the issue.

“I will weld myself shut if it means I’m giving birth without the dad,” you beg. “Without Charles.”

Charles, who picks up after forty-five minutes of radio silence. He’s in the jet. Give him an hour. “I will pilot this plane myself if I have to. Don’t do anything—don’t make any decisions without me.”

“Too fucking late.” You say, wheezy with labor. “I’m putting N/A on the certificate.”

“You carry Chewy around for nine months and I don’t get to meet her first?” He asks, in a last-ditch effort to cheer you up. You tear up, splotchy and red all over.

“We can’t call her Chewy. We never discussed names. And oh God it can’t be Daryl,” you say, whimpers turning into half-sobs of overwhelm and yearning. You’re scared. You need Charles, who’s been with you for every week, every milestone, every kick, every rigatoni craving. But he’s not here. You have Dr. Davies, and in five minutes you’ll have your mum and Pascale, but they are not Charles. You breathe heavy into the phone.

“I love you,” you say finally. “Please, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says gently. “I love you. I’ll be there, okay? Just—just wait for me.”

—

Lil 3s ago

does it hurt?

i know it does but i’m trying to make u feel better

love from houston. i will call you ASAP.

You 1s ago

yeah it hurts so bad

apparently they don’t do epidurals

fuck europe

—

In between quiet periods and intense ones, you finally reach your peak. A nurse takes one glance and nods and your bed is disengaged and wheeling around again. Pascale squeezes your left hand, your mum the other. “Wait!” You pant, voice spent, totally tired, flustered.

The nurses exchange a look. “Ma’am—”

“No, you don’t understand. The dad, my—the dad—he’s out—and I don’t.” You pause, the onset of a cry coming on. Pascale takes the lead, firm, asking for a few more moments of patience.

“I can’t do this,” you say hopelessly, throwing your flushed head back. “No. Not without Charles.”

“I’m here,” Charles says, bounding through the door. He’s in official Ferrari gear and his hair is disheveled and he's clearly been crying. Had Chewy not been wedging her way out, you would’ve kissed him right then. You feel nothing but love.

“You’re a sneaky fucker,” you say instead, and the rest is a blur.

—

It’s an hour before the race and Charles is absent from his usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, he’s leaned against the wall of the motorhome, silently digging his toes into his shoes. You knock twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. You beam when you see him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

His two girls.

Julia stretches out a chubby hand, but he smiles teasingly, refusing to take it. He holds eye contact, holding up the ring that’d been in his clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s a symbol, a sign, a blessed thing, casting his girlfriend into silence.

It’s a bit dark—a stark contrast to where other guys might propose for the first time. He imagines a Caribbean beach bathed in sunset. He pictures a Jeep in the sand, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness. He figures if you don’t like this, he’ll pay for that.

Instead, he gets: “You’re a doofus—oh.”

“Yeah.” He says, pursing his lips. He swallows, gives you the biggest smile of his life. “Oh.”

It’s perfect.

#f1 #leclsrc1000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

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mysteriouslyjovialcolor · 8 days ago

Text

Las Vegas 2023

-This whole race was on YouTube!!

-Saw Logan in the intro and immediately lost it

-It feels so weird watching this in such clear definition

-“This town has waited 40 years for the pinnacle of Motorsport to return” On a Saturday night??

-Such a unique track shape fr

-Yuki P20?!??!

-Ohmygod, why are the McLaren in the back of the grid

-I’m going to cry, Logan p6

-Someone take me back to 2023 and make me watch this qualifying live

-“It is the childhood rivalry at the front of the field”

-So many celebrities in the garages

-Oooh the Alpha Tauri livery and the Ferrari rear wing! Hope those designers got a raise

-Ohmygod not even a second in and they’re both off the track

-I just watched Logan lose a place and make it back up, I’m never recovering from this

-VSC and everyone in the pits

-“Max I think we’re happy to say that you were ahead when you went off the track, happy to stay there” “Of course I was ahead” Confidence is so sexy

-“This needs to be addressed now. It is a joke if he keeps the position.” The rivalry is rivalry-ing

-Damn Yuki! P11!

-Oh shit Lando! That was so sudden! He must have hit that barrier really hard

-Ah yeah and looking at that replay? I wonder if he was injured

-Why do all the cars look so shiny

-Why wouldn’t the sphere just be showing live race results instead of the usual adverts?

-I love when all the cars zig zag behind the safety car, so cute

-“The question is, how early will Max bolt” “…And he’s gone already”

-Oh wow that overtake by Oscar?

-Feels like a lifetime ago, the last time I saw Carlos and Fernando fighting it out

-“Definitely looks like he’s on a rush on to get out of here” lol Max’ hate for Vegas is so real

-“Let’s go Lewis!” I say, five seconds before I realize the person he’s gone past is Yuki

-Five second penalty

-Why didn’t I start watching races last year? It’s not like I had anything else to obsess over then

-“Yeah that’s fine, send them my regards” Cold

-Ocon! Come on man, why’d you do that to Kevin

-Okay can’t even be mad about Oscar doing it too cause that was extremely cool

-Yes Kevin! He got back!

-And he’s lost it again

-Not Yuki falling back to last place

-“Carlos Sainz facing up against his childhood hero” It’s the race for childhood lores

-“Our first Saturday Grand Prix since 1985” Why??

-Seeing Logan and Zhou in the top 12. I am so extremely gutted to have not witnessed this live

-So many things happening everywhere in the track but all I can focus on is Logan in p6 and praying that he doesn’t fall too far back when he stops for tires

-Seeing Checo make up so many places also is making me feel a lot of feelings

-Don’t like seeing Daniel so far down :/

-Ocon! Come on not again! And on Logan?!

-Although…seeing Logan and Oscar right behind each other is definitely adds to the race of childhood lores

-Oh god can Logan at least stay in the points, he got passed by like three cars

-Oh Mercedes trying an undercut?

-“He looks like he might get this done on track”

-“I don’t think this is Max managing, this is Max under pressure “

-Love when Charles goes for it! That was amazing!

-Ohmygod there’s so much happening, I forgot about the penalty, also so many people coming in to box at the same time, the leaderboard is all mixed up now

-Lewis has a puncture?

-“There’s just so much action happening in this Grand Prix it’s difficult to follow it” Exactly!

-Holy shit Zhou p7?!

-“Car’s not stopping, *****” Haha the way that bollard flew off??

-The recovery drive from Checo though??

-Somehow Logan and Oscar have ended up one after another again

-Checo p2!

-I wonder how drivers who aren’t typically up front feel about having the chance to be at front during a race. Are they like “holy shit how am I running alongside the top three teams right now?” “Do I really have a Mercedes in my mirrors??”

-“As the world champion is on the charge begind him”

-Woah the speed at which he went past George??

-“Max Verstappen has the fastest lap of the race. Do not count him out of this one” I don’t think anyone can

-It’s so funny to me that Lance is p2. It’s giving Germany 2019 before he lost it in the end

-“Sainz, Russel, Verstappen” Honestly amazing how Carlos made it up there

-George and Max going past all cars ahead of them together. It’s almost like George is making way for him

-Oh bloody hell I spoke too soon, they’ve made contact

-“There’s Charles Leclerc making the pass on Lance Stroll”

-Red Bull double stack? Ooh yes!

-“This is what happens in a street circuit, they either behave themselves cause they’re worried about chaos or you get action for every minute”

-“Piastri is up 14 places”

-Can I just say, this safety car is so diva

-“Charles Leclerc has a new Red Bull to fight this time”

-“He just turned in onto my wheel. I guess he didn’t expect me to pass him there” The nonchalant confidence is even better

-“Late, late, late in the breaks, and later still for Oscar Piastri” Is it an Australian thing do we think?

-So cool seeing all the cars bunched up so close together

-“This is the resurgence of Sergio Perez” Yes! Let’s go!

-Ohmygod Checo!!

-Oh they are showing the race results on the sphere!

-Ah the Alpine’s are fighting

-Charles stuck in a Red Bull sandwich

-“Max Verstappen looking to demoralize the ones ahead even further” That’s so funny wth

-Ohmygod Charles how does one even make that pass??!

-“This is a three horse race” funnn

-“That’s one of those passes where I’m coming through or there’s going to be a lot of debris” it’s giving I’m not taking my leg of the pedal until I see god or the checkered flag

-🎶 Max! Max! Super Max! 🎶

-“Charles going right who is it? In the mirrors? It’s the world champion”

-“Let’s work together here. We can get him”

-✨Rihanna✨ (my brain just went blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff)

-“Stay with him. Double tow here. We work together” Damn that goes so hard

-The way the Red Bulls just switched around. Didn’t actually think Max was going to make it there actually

-The commentators: “Sainz, further back in the pack”

Me who has forgotten about every car but the top three: “Who?”

-“Hunt them down George” Oh alright then

-The way Carlos, Fernando, and Lewis went past Alex right after George did, that has got to hurt

-Woah Charles?? That was so unfortunate

-That was such bad strategy on McLaren parts wasn’t it? Why not change his tires to the right ones earlier?

-Haas, when I find you Haas

-Yuki?? There were like two laps left! What happened??

-“Bieber’s got the flag, has Leclerc got the move” Ha

-“Help to tow him along, might be useful” “Ok I’ll try”

-Charles actually might make it back to P2…He’s done it!!

-“He’s pulled it off. As he does. Max Verstappen finds a way to win”

-“Yes, let’s go guys, that was quite fun out there. At least I had fun”

-🎶 Vivaa Las Vegas 🎶

-“ Into the pit lane Max, or should I call you Elvis?” Haha

-Post race drivers>> (especially Logan) (I’m going to conveniently forget he didn’t end up in the points)

-Them being so confused by the post race spectacle of it all is so amusing

-Maxplaining and Leclarifying in full bloom

-“We go straight to the nightclub. Skip everything. See you tomorrow evening…or not!” He thinks he’s so funny

-“It was a nice race actually” It really was

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year ago

Note

Okay so-- i was reading some sagau posts and came across this one where the reader was an army vet and my brain just Did Its Thing--

So now I'm here to inflict this on to you--

Would guns be considered as catalysts. And would they only do Phys Damage.

Me reading this ask:

😶 😐 🤨 🧐 🧐 😰 🥲 😭😭😭 💀

STOP YOU'VE INFLICTED ME WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL DMG FROM THIS ASK 😭

(Also srry took so long to respond, when i didnt realize how short this was/was just sitting over here 😓)

^ For the sake of gun imagery being a lot/maybe staff might hate me for it,

we'll put this gay shit instead (i almost mispelled to "gay shot" lmao)

☆

Sun: Army Veteran Reader, Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT Headcanons

Stars: everybody bc i think itd be funny

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: gun stuff, mild violence, mild cursing & Trigger Warnings: Gun fun everywhere

THIS ASK HAS ME GIGGLING TO MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC

You're out here having a whole gun they let you take for off-base

And u ofc have a license so u can conceal carry

(idk how non-american gun laws work, but tbh ours are so fucked idk how they work here either, just that an army guy i knew once could have his gun when he got back home)

And ofc ur just paranoid enough (more like it just makes u feel safe)

That when u get yoinked into a portal to a silly little brightly colored gacha game fantasy world, the gun comes with 💀

Id like to add in my silly little "ur in a video game, so video game rules" AU version of genshin so:

The only other gun (ish) wielder (Mika) has unlimited bolts

Sooo I'd think your gun would be the same jfc lol

NO BC YOUD SCARE THE ACTUAL SHIT OUT OF EVERYONE IN UR VICINITY IN A BATTLE

BC GUNSHOTS ARE A DIFFERENT TYPE OF LOUD

When u first stumble into abyss monsters/hostile creatures of the realm, u nearly scare off a Lawlachurl bc every shot's like thunder to these bitches😭

So not only the monsters but the vision holders think u fucking summoned lightning

OMG THE BULLETS ARE SO FAST THEYD PROBABLY NOT SEE IT

ESP BC DISTRACTED BY GUNSHOT LOUDNESS

SO U AIM THIS LITTLE BLACK CROSSBOW (???) AND THINGS JUST DIE (OR GET RIDDLED WITH HOLES) WITH NO CLEAR ARROW STICKING OUT

STOPP- you're becoming a witchy god or smth to all of Teyvat bc it just looks like hella high level magic atp to them LMAOOO

Rumors of you get out of hand and say u just point or snap ur fingers and things get wounded/just die on the spot 💀

Oh another difference between Teyvatians seeing ur gun vs. crossbow (what they know)

Is that guns are wayyyy more destructive

Like an arrow would get shot but it'd bounce off of things like rock or wood or metal, maybe dent a little depending on how close

But a bullet goes thru that shit so easy, and leaves a whole little explosion behind, once again depending on range

(I once saw a Mythbusters episode? of them proving bullets would definitely go thru car doors, like movies lied to u, this is why drive-bys acc work like for gangs)

Lmao, the image of you in like full armor with a Teyvat made automatic gun after showing it to blacksmiths

Makes u just more convincing as a god, esp bc military training

(Ppl like Gorou and Kokomi begging for military tactics/training ur world has done)

...

....Ok.

I'll address it.

But only so u dont think im stupid later.

Yes, the Fatui have guns.

No, this not the same as having a glock LMAO

End of story.

(Also, urs runs on bullets, whereas the Fatui rely on magic/delusions to power theirs, plus they dont seem as fast or destructive as urs, more "explosions aimed at you" than real bullets)

Which,,, u leave the managing of ppl copying ur gun to ppl like the Qixing or smth, but make sure to give them advice on good gun laws if teyvat accidentally revolutionizes bc of ur advanced gun that anybody can wield (non-vision users)

Thats the best ive got abt that

Oh, also enjoy being praised as a War god now.

☆

... dammit i had smth i was gonna tell u guys-

Uh what tf was it, it was important

Next post is the Eldritch God Oneshot! Look out for it :) !!

☆

Safe Travels Kid,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

#lookie i made my first border image guys!! 🥺#a little rough but eh #i used a stock image and then added that little moon #also this gun shit takes me out i could write just a whole crack oneshot abt ending up in teyvat with a gun lmao #genshin sagau #genshin impact #sagau #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #my asks #gender neutral reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #✨️forgot all my tags again✨️#uh #genshin harem #i mean what #genshin x reader

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111angelstheme111 · 1 year ago

Text

𝐀 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥—𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥

DEFINITION— Simply put, ‘that girl’ is who everyone wants to be. She’s healthy, knows her priorities, and most importantly, she puts herself first. She is determined and sets her goals straight, no one can distract her and she knows she’s bound to achieve whatever she wants.

STEP 1— Set A Goal

As previously mentioned, that girl is the epitome of determination, a true girlboss and she knows exactly what she wants and stops at nothing to get it. Now, let's take a moment to envision her daily routine and lifestyle. Picture how she's always striving toward one goal or another, whether they’re academic or fitness achievements, she’s always in constant motion with an occasional break.

Here's the exciting part: those qualities you admire so much, you can make them your own. You can turn those aspirations into your reality. It's not about copying her, but rather drawing inspiration from her and crafting your unique path to success.

So, take a list and start setting milestones. Imagine the perfect girl and write down everything you admire about her. Is it her perfect grades? Her body fitness? How she’s never procrastinating? Her time-management skills? Determination? Write it all down!

Now, with everything written down. You’re going to make these points of hers into yours. You’re going to stay committed and actively pursue these qualities until you find yourself in a place you once deemed remarkable.

STEP 2— Plan Your Success

In this stage, you might be a little overwhelmed. There are things you want to work on but you don’t know which one to choose, or whether you have the time to do so. But don’t worry, because it’s all about choosing your priorities and having to manage your time.

The first thing you want to do is get a journal or you can use Notion/Google Calendar if you’re lazy like me. Then, write down all of your fixed schedules (like classes, tuition, or part-time) and make out at least an hour at the end of each weekday.

Ask yourself specific questions to clarify your priorities. Is your main goal to get fit or have an academic comeback? Or do you want to focus on both fitness and your studies?

Build your schedule around your key goals. This means you should prioritise and allocate time for the most important objectives or ambitions you have in mind.

!!⠀if you’re having trouble with making up a schedule, feel free to dm me/send in an ask. I’ll be more than willing to help ♡︎

STEP 3— True Competition Is Determination and Discipline

It’s not about how much you’re doing in a period of time, in the end, you’re going to be burnt out and tired. It’s more about how consistent you are. Yes, it might get tiring at one point; and that is when you slow down and cut yourself some slack while keeping the drive going.

You are really training your discipline instead of running on motivation that is bound to run out. That’s why you don’t see ‘that girl’ everywhere. Because everyone lacks discipline and commitment, they’re afraid of being in uncomfortable situations and would rather mindlessly scroll on tiktok than really challenge themselves.

Working on a goal is all about determination. It tests how badly you want it and how much you’re willing to sacrifice for it. But let me tell you, your sacrifices will never be a waste.

STEP 4— Breaks Are Part of The Process

What I hate seeing the most is how people work non-stop with no breaks. If your goal is to be burnt out within a or two week, feel free to be my guest and do what you’ve got to. Your body and mind is not a machine, because you are human and you deserve breaks.

Whether that is self-care nights, going out with friends, or literally just laying in bed and watching Netflix. You choose your breaks and how often you get them. But be careful not to get carried away and lose sight of your milestones (because I’ve fallen into this trap once too many times).

In the end, balance is key! You want to be on the grind, and still be able to maintain connections and have fun. If you’re capable of finding your balance, let me tell you you’re just on your way to success.

TIPS—

ꕤ Romanticise The Hell Out of The Process

One of the best advice I can give is literally romanticise everything. Get cute stationaries to study with, dress up all pretty just to go study at a cafe/wear your pretty pink gym outfits, listen to songs that put you into the mood, or imagine yourself as the main character of your movie to success (I use this sometimes when I’m really desperate and also bc I’m a delulu).

ꕤ Don't oversleep on weekends; wake up early to make the most of your time.

Tbh I get low-key annoyed when people sleep in during the weekends because of the time wasted you could’ve used to get ahead of others!!

ꕤ Use Social Media To Your Advantage

I’m never one to be against social media unless you’re not using it to your advantage. For example, your tiktok feed is most probably about trendy videos and memes. But, why not make your feed about motivation, videos that educate you on certain matters and actually bring you knowledge?

ꕤ Take Inspirations/Motivations From Others

I’m personally a pretty competitive person so looking at people who received Academic Achievers awards really pisses me off and makes me motivated to study harder lol. Try to find your tick and make use of it.

Now that you’ve finished reading this post, it’s time to set your mind on your goals and girlboss your way to it. So my angels, good luck and don’t stop working until you are her.

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hunieday · 3 months ago

Note

Dear Noda,

Thank you for opening anon asks!!! I actually had something I wanted to clarify with you as your opinion had led me to be quite disappointed.

Somedays ago I7 twt had the 10th Anniversary Logo "Stop Not, Start Knot" released which started an omega verse joke. This is where my problem comes from.

You stated Yuki will be an Omega and Momo will be an Alpha! And I am highly disappointed that the CEO of YukiMomo made such a big mistake. Have we not seen how Momo differs from a traditional Omega in outer personality.

Momo who is not a traditional Omega and someone who likes sports and other physical activities while still retaining the quality of kindness within him. He also stated and I quote "I he had magic, he would birth Yuki's children". And yet you classified him as an Alpha???

Same goes for Yuki, Yuki is different from a Traditional Alpha yet his brashness and protective instinct is present. Has Yuki not gone with a bat to make sure Momo isn't harmed by Tsukomo??? Can Alphas not cook a meal for their Omegas without being called one??? Just because they do mom-braid doesn't mean they are a "sire"

We had witnessed their divorce arc which primarily showcased how Momo and Yuki's roles are of Omega and Alpha respectively yet their sub-gender was misgendered.

I hold no hate to you when I send you this ask, yet that day your tweet disappointed me. Wishing you understand YukiMomo are not traditional Alpha and Omega & that's what I7 wanted to showcase within their show, to break the traditional hierarchy and stereotype of how an Alpha and Omega acts and they had a wonderful representation done also. So seeing you, the one I look up to so much mis sub-gender them made me wounded.

I hope this ask finds you healthy and it makes you reflect on the statement you made on their sub-gender.

P. S. :- this is mostly joking aside from the fact Momo is an Omega and Yuki is an Alpha.

From

A simple fujo

Hello anon, thank you very much for your input.

As a beta myself, I would like to first clarify that I am absolutely an ally of the omegas and I advocate for their rights everywhere I go, I even have omega friends, so any mis-subgendering that might have happened would have been on complete accident and I apologize and condemn it heavily.

HOWEVER. I do NOT agree with your claim that Momo is an omega and that Yuki is an alpha. On a surface level, I can see how Momo can come off as an omega, what with the "I want to birth Yuki's children and all", but you have to remember that a lot of it is a façade. In a world where omegas are so persecuted, Momo, knowing people can smell the alpha and omega pheromones on re:vale after long days of shoots, chose to shoulder the burden of presenting as the omega of the pair to protect his darling.

Allow me to elaborate.

His alpha side tends to slip through the cracks of his carefully crafted image, however. And we can see that in the way he speaks enthusiastically about wanting to kidnap Yuki and brainwash him and keep him all to himself. He's extremely possessive of Yuki, to the point where he gets mad and jealous of the other alphas (see: Ryuu and Torao) trying to approach him. He's a lot more gentle with Ryuu, but his big meaty alpha muscles were ready to pop a hole in Torao's balls and remove him from the gene pool when he dared to threaten Yuki on live television. His alpha instincts were too powerful to control and his façade crumbled in front of everyone, just to protect his omega.

We can see Momo's alpha manifest in many other canon events, such as the following chat that perfectly shows glimpses of their real dynamic.

As you can see here, Momo let the ferocious alpha out and handled Yuki as he desired and with complete ease, we are talking about him carrying someone who is only 3kgs lighter than him, but because of his drive as an alpha and Yuki's complete submissiveness as an omega, he was able to drive him to a completely different part of Tokyo with ease.

(artistic rendition of Momo carrying Yuki through the woods to go stargazing by Christy Grandjean)

And that is not the only scene where we see that alpha/omega dynamic showcased. You mentioned their divorce arc, but let me remind you of their very first meeting: Momo beating the shit out of three grown men because they growled at his future mate. Not only that, but the sheer power of his alpha pheromones impacted Yuki so much that his normally dormant omega coin slot quivered with a desire to be further praised by him, when he has never had a full conversation with him before. Yuki knew from the moment that first punch landed that he was his fated mate.

We do see Yuki try to protect Momo, but with a bat. Momo uses mighty fists to repel the alphas who dare approach him. That was, once again, a moment where he let his carefully crafted mask drop when his omega was in danger.

While IDOLiSH7 is great at representing seemingly docile and delicate people who are alphas (see, Natsume Minami and senior respected activist Takanashi Otoharu) and strong, muscular men who are omegas (see, Nikaido Yamato), effectively sending a message about the harms of stereotyping and furthering the omega acceptance movement, I do believe that Re:vale as characters, were created with the same nuances of breaking the subgender roles by making their personality traits so unrelated to them that you can not tell that Yuki is the omega and Momo is the alpha at first glance. Which is a good thing! because it's a reflection of their music genre as well: a jack of all trades. And not only that, but Yuki being the child bearer of the two is a clever and not-so-subtle way to symbolize his journey, as someone who went from a completely selfish bastard to a person who's willing to be vulnerable and bring a new life to the world for Momo. A sign of commitment and trust. As if to tell him that he really is his one and only partner.

I do understand the hurt you felt when you saw me speak of their subgenders on twitter, but as you might have deduced, I hold nothing but respect for Yuki and Momo as characters and as fated mates, and would never dare and do something as shameful and bigoted as submisgendering them. I sincerely hope you understand my perspective, and that you see the greatness of alpha Momo and omega Yuki.

Ps. it is Midnight and I fucking lost it at your essay anon. unironically folded me in half from laughter. what the fuck were you smoking when you wrote that and where can I get it

Sincerely,

Noda.

#idolish7 #ask #needed to put that in the i7 tag cuz everyone needs to LISTEN. TO ME #yuki would you still love me if i was a worm has his coinslot fiddled with by momo that man produces MUSIC and SLICK #someone calls yuki MOTHERRRR on twitter and hes like fucvkkk how did they know. okarin sue them for doxxing NOW

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physalian · 2 months ago

Text

Character Types: The Coward

Specifically, the cowardly protagonist, because this character is so tricky to make compelling and not insufferable.

Cowards, much like schemers, tend to be the antithesis of a brave, selfless hero. They look out for themselves first, and if anyone else benefits, it’s a happy accident. Unlike schemers, they’re missing an inflated ego. They lack the drive and confidence to connive and claw for power.

Which tends to make cowards extremely unlikable, because not only are they unheroic, they’re useless. Plenty of characters get called cowards when they’re not, they’re just being sensible, and plenty more wear that badge proudly.

So how do you make one that isn’t a burden on the story and endlessly frustrating to the audience?

Well, I wrote one, and so far haven’t had any complaints.

Elias is my protagonist in Eternal Night, and he is a coward, and he knows it. He’s quiet, a bit of a cynic, a proud introvert, and a nerd. He also lives in a hyper-survivalist society that doesn’t waste any time on superfluous things like mourning their dead or facing their emotions because if they did they’d all steep into a depression rot and never escape.

The survival rate of hunting parties outside their cave is pretty low and Elias already lost his only brother to an accident, and has absolutely no desire to leave the cave. He’s got a perfect job as the Keeper—bookkeeping, inventory, and historical record.

He has a valid reason to be selfish: Being brave just gets you killed.

Elias is not a “chosen one”. He’s just extremely unlucky and cannot catch a break, dragged around by different vampires and clashing covens, none of whom really like him all that much, but for plot reasons he’s important to their plans.

The only character who cares about him is a Fixer and my Fixer absolutely suffers for sticking his neck out for Elias.

There is no “the power was inside you all along” moment, no “you’re the one true king to unite all the vampire covens” moment. Elias’s whole plot journey is to do whatever it takes to survive to the next morning and maybe also woo a boyfriend cause eyyyyy.

His whole story journey, which is different than the plot, is learning how fucked his clan’s survivalist nature made him. He’s missing so many social skills, so many milestones in life, so many experiences that are just a given to everyone he meets.

To somebody who’s never seen the stars or even clouds before, dumping him into a castle of 200 strangers and asking him to make friends is a tall order. Dumping him into a den of what he’s been raised to think of as monsters and stockholm-syndromed blood slaves and asking him to make friends is damn near impossible.

Elias is self-serving, and self-sabotaging in nearly every way. He’s wrong, about most everything he says, and doesn’t get away with it.

Elias’s refusal to make nice and let old grudges fade makes him extremely disliked by everyone in his new home, except for one person. So when the time comes for Drama and Plot, they do not give a single shit about protecting him, because he didn’t give a shit about protecting them.

“I just want to be normal” heroes are annoying, unless the task they’re chosen for is hell. Everybody wants to be a wizard at Hogwarts. But nobody’s signing up to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

Elias’s “fuck this I want to go home” selfishness does have merit. He doesn’t want to be food. But everywhere he turns, characters are proving him wrong about how it’s not “just being food,” how their society benefits everyone in the harsh environment they live in, how they’re doing the best they can with what they have and it’s not perfect but it’s better than the alternative.

He fights it at every turn. It’s not just “wah I hate vampires because they’re icky” it’s “I’ve been raised to hate vampires, and you ripped me from my home and everything I ever knew and they might all be dead now. If I start sleeping with the enemy and forgive and forget, then who am I?”

Elias might be a coward, but he’s not lazy, and he’s not stupid. He doesn’t throw a tantrum and refuse to accept the alternatives to being food. He works hard for his place (once he gets over his weaponized incompetence), works hard to try and save himself by learning more about his world and geography and all his possible escape routes, and when his survivalist upbringing of “do or die” comes in, Elias doesn’t freeze when he’s cornered, he comes alive.

So he’s still very much a “coward” in that he primarily only wants to save himself (and the one other character he cares about), but he’s not a couch potato, not a damsel in distress who can’t lift a finger to break the locks on his own cage, and the plans he does come up with to stay alive actually work.

I don’t expect Elias to be anyone’s favorite character, he wasn’t designed that way. He’s a walking tragedy constantly in the wrong place at the wrong time and gets caught in the middle of a fight he never asked for over and over again.

—

I also don’t see a ton of protagonists like him, so if you’re going to write one, or even a cowardly side character who audiences aren’t supposed to hate, I’ll synthesize the above points here:

Give them a valid reason for why they’re selfish, some reason that might have anyone else in their situation probably making the same choices

Make it clear that they are wrong, and that their own cowardice is their largest hurdle, and that either the plot or other characters don’t let them get away with it

Give them positive traits to balance out the cowardice. Maybe they’re kind, or they’re funny or they’re clever, but audiences do need something to root for

Give them agency. They can’t sit around like a bump on a log being a burden to the plot and the other characters. Even if they’re only in it to save themselves, they still have to work to accomplish that

Bonus option: Give them somebody else to shed their cowardice for, especially if they pick the absolute worst moment possible to suddenly become a hero

—

If you’re interested in Elias’s story, the first book in the planned trilogy is out now: Eternal Night of the Northern Sky

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #character development #character design #character types #Eternal Night of the Northern Sky

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katyspersonal · 23 days ago

Note

What is a piece of soulsborne lore that just utterly drives you mad?

Not going to lie, it is a hard question.. I just like or at least accept everything in these games? There ARE some "would have been more fun/deep/interesting" moments on my end, but canon decision is never BAD in my eyes! But my mind is legit blank in terms of "getting mad"! (Unless you meant mad as in, madness and not as in, anger?)

The closest to being angry I've gotten was the thing about Radahn as Miquella's consort! And, no, it is not about hassle of some Malenia-hating Redditors "getting validated 😥" or #shouldhavebeengodwyn thing! The story is NOT concerned by petty fandom infighting and its perception should not be dependent on it! And Godwyn was ALREADY in love with Fortissax! When he wasn't, he was getting so gay with his Knights that they straight up rebranded into Death Knights instead of complaining about something-something against the order! He was TAKEN!!! Cope and SEATH! xD /hs

It is... hard to explain, but it felt like a wasted concept! I realized that I'd prefer Miquella of all characters to not have a pair in canon. The God that wants to embrace everyone and love everyone should not pick a favourite. He is not ALLOWED to pick a favourite! Conceptually! It appears that Greater Will set up a standard for anyone who wants to shape the laws of nature to have a pair, right? Placidusax was a partner of previous Elden Ring's owner, Marika had two consorts and Two Fingers sent you to be the third... Looks like the rule is unbreakable, right? Except for one character...

Ranni was set on walking her "dark path" to Godhood alone, and we had to do a bit of insisting to join her! So, all in all, Miquella needed a consort because he wanted a consort! Divinity is scary, and it must be even scarier in solitude, so, I understand! Like, I sure can't even tell the guy to "grow up" for AT LEAST two reasons hfhfjdjg

But, I think he should have forsaken the biases. To love everyone or no one, to be omnipresent... Heck, keep the whole plot about a vow and clinging to Radahn, just with the plot twist of him getting "enlightnment" that he should not embrace one above everyone else! I know that he discarded his love, not his promise. Well? Discard it NOW, then? He should not at least because Radahn would be his weapon? But he wants a world WITHOUT war and battles! I don't know, I just feel a strange type of jealousy I can't explain well... Having a fav doesn't fit his concept of divinity for me. In fact, it strains the vibe of being "embraced" by him because there is always this Third Guy just standing there (menacingly). What, he will force everyone to not just be friends, but also polyamorous now? I mean he might as welllol hfhggvfj Argh. Him not being able to overcome some weakness, fear, clinginess and bias in spite of all is not a BAD story, but it could have been better? Yet I still wonder whether I am right or my preferred idea is a boring cliché and I misunderstood Miyazaki's genius of subverting it! Nor I know why what I am feeling is def a type of jealousy. Oh nooo, has he charmed ME? LITTLE PRICK!!!

Here are a few other things that I am not as happy with, but nothing critical:

Fanart sabotage: Like not making it clear enough that the guy from Scholar of the First Sin cover that holds the crown is Aldia, not Vendrick! He misses Vendrick's trademark braids (that were present even in his youth, mind you!) and has wizardy aesthetic instead of Vendrick's warrior one! Or making the idea of the statue behind Memory Altar in Bloodborne being Caryll easily skippable because this asset is also used literally everywhere in Chalice Dungeons! Or not placing Gold Pendant on the bearded guy's statue in Research Hall, so one has to admit Laurence had a beautiful beard gfhhfj Little things like this, that guaranteed absence of some cool fanart rooted in the source material! Not lore but Fromsoft's way to present things, but still!

Skipping what Demigods Vyke and Bernahl fought: I love, love, LOVE the way Miyazaki deliberately removes some pieces of the puzzle from the story that IS full in his head, to imitate his childhood experience of reading foreign books but not knowing many words! It is an interesting approach, allowing people to fill the gaps with their own imagination! But in THIS case particularly, I didn't like it. 🤔 This is a bit TOO important to miss out on. Like, bro... there were 4 deceased Shardbearers nothing and no one ever mentioned! The whole lore acts as if they never existed! They erased this part of lore so hard it ripped a HOLE in the page!

Creighton reappearing in DS3: I do not dislike what the writers ended up doing to him, but.. at the DS2 time, there was a room to speculate that Creighton was not the unhinged murderer he appeared as! But instead, a trope of a guy who just has negative charisma and SPEAKS like a serial killer! And that maybe Pate actually framed him or something like that! Creighton's lore was kind of vague in DS2! Creighton doesn't even have Mirrah accent, ffs! You know who does though? Pate! Buuuuuut, in DS3, they just straight up confirmed that yeah, he just likes killing. There is no mystery or complexity to him now, he is JUST like that. Sure, why not, but also why? ;-;

Gnarrl being patched out: Keeping the concept of Dragonic Sentinel to a unique character was a way cooler idea! Even if they just could not come up with a better boss to gatekeep Leyendell/Death, at least keep his name as someone who started the trend and others followed!

Put him back. NOW.

Characters disappearing: Again, not really a lore thing, but a presentation thing! But I am talking things like, missing out that the "female archer" in the woods in Dark Souls 1 IS Pharis herself, or that there is a stated female character Knight Amerix amongst the Forest covenant! Why people need to look through Japanese guide to know this info? Or missing the fact that Queen of Lothric is not Gwynevere? (Granted, this is a fault of English localization...) I'll dig out every single obscure gremlin from under the ground!!! Don't fuck with me!!!!!

Priscilla being discarded at birth: I can't criticize this idea at all, it works for the story and as a perfect reflection of how society of Light worked! But I can FEEL mad about it! Gwyn spared a baby dragon (Midir) on condition of having them be of help, Gwyndolin is here, Yorshka is here despite also being half-dragon and also having connection with Lifehunt ability, so tell me why-

Tell me why ONE baby of Seath just straight up got abandoned? Based on what feature others never got? This is needlessly cruel! Like, yes, it works for what it does, but I still will strangle all of the characters involved in this decision! Granted, I gave it a bandaid of saying Seath and Caitha had Yorshka after Gwyn's death now that they were left together in grief, but it doesn't exempt Seath from Priscilla being ditched! Shira I think is also his daughter ("daughter of the duke", also has white hair in concept art and Sam hair as Yorshka in game) but she is doing fine! So, he just dislikes children who remind him of his mortality? What about Yorshka, then? Is she here because she formed as a dragon "differently"? Full disrespect to this cringe looser 🤦‍♂️

Hilde being dead: They've ruined perfect Moonrithyll x Hilde yuri is what they did. Literally the only Fire Knight to be dead and it had to be her. Why could not we have just fought her as a unique mob? :pensive:

_______________

Okaaaay I think this should be it! If you wanted me to finally say something besides devout praise to Soulsborne, I hope that was enough? xD

#ask replies #soulsborne #elden ring #dark souls #personal #(ish?)

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lou-0111 · 3 months ago

Text

She likes a boy

Clarisse likes Y/N, Y/N likes a boy, Clarisse is not a boy.

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

At 14 Katy talked about teenage dreams On the bus and she's looking at me

Clarisse and Y/N were both 14, sitting on Clarisse’s bed in the Ares cabin, their heads full of dreams and chatter about what the future might hold. They were best friends, inseparable since Y/N had gotten to Camp Half Blood, quite an unexpected duo to be honest, Clarisse the daughter of Ares was impulsive, always up for a fight, angry at the world. Whereas Y/N was the opposite, she was calm, patient, no one understood how those two were such close friends. Sharing everything from secrets to their latest obsessions, Y/N about her pair of new shoes, Clarisse watched her with a fond smile, her heart squeezing in a way that only happened when she was around Y/N.

Talking about life and her dog and the boys that she likes I ask "Have you got someone in mind?"

They spent hours talking about their lives, their families, their hopes. Y/N talked about her dog, a scruffy mutt who followed her everywhere, and the boys she had crushes on back at her old school. Clarisse listened intently, nodding and asking questions, even as her stomach twisted at the mention of boys.

“So, do you have someone in mind here?” Clarisse asked, trying to keep her voice casual, even though she dreaded the answer.

He's at the all-boys school She says something about liking his height Suddenly worried about mine

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, there’s this guy James. He’s in the Hephaestus Cabin, he is so cute.”

Clarisse’s heart sank a little. She knew James, a tall, lanky boy with a loud demeanor. Y/N had always liked tall guys. “He’s so tall,” Y/N continued dreamily, “I just love how he towers over everyone. I don’t know, it’s just... nice.”

Clarisse suddenly felt a pang of insecurity about her own height. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall like James either. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to push the thoughts away.

بياخد مخدرات

و هوا بيتعلم سواقة

بيقضي وقت معها

As Y/N gushed about James, Clarisse couldn’t help but notice how different he was from the person Y/N thought he was. James was older, a bit rough around the edges, and there were rumors that he was into things that weren’t exactly legal. Clarisse had heard that he was learning how to drive already and that he spent a lot of time hanging out with older guys who had already left camp. Y/N, though, was oblivious, caught up in the idea of who James could be, rather than who he really was.

Lately, Y/N had been spending more time with James, and Clarisse found herself feeling more and more left out. They used to spend all their time together, but now it was like Y/N had drifted into a different world, one where Clarisse didn’t belong.

She likes a boy, she likes a boy She likes a boy, she likes a boy I'm not a boy, I'm not a boy I'm not a- Accustomed to making a move

Clarisse found herself caught between two worlds. On one hand, she wanted to support her best friend, to be there for Y/N no matter what. On the other, she was drowning in feelings she didn’t know how to deal with.

No one knew Clarisse like Y/N did, she couldn’t ruin that. She couldn’t make a move on Y/N, right?

مش ھاقدراشرح

She had never felt this way before, certainly not for a girl. It was all new, confusing, and more intense than anything she had ever experienced.

Why I'm feeling the way that I do

Clarisse couldn’t explain it, not even to herself. She was used to being in control, used to having things go her way. But these feelings were foreign, and they made her feel vulnerable in a way she hated. Every time she saw Y/N with another boy, she felt a flash of anger, a wave of jealousy that she didn’t know how to deal with.

I like a boy. Y/N’s voice echoed in Clarisse’s head. But Clarisse wasn’t a boy. And that was the problem.

احساس جدید لیا

She had never had trouble going after what she wanted, whether it was winning a game of capture the flag or getting the last slice of pizza from her older brothers. But this—this was different. She was scared. Scared to make a move, scared to ruin the friendship that meant everything to her.

She's half-Greek with a pretty face Strawberry lip gloss, oh, it's wasted

She’s Aphrodite’s daughter, she’s the most gorgeous girl at camp, of course those guys wanted her, Clarisse thought bitterly, watching Y/N apply her strawberry lip gloss in the mirror. Clarisse knew however it would just end up on some other guy's lips, wasted.

On this dumb boy who likes the chase But why am I so angry in the first place? Why am I hurting?

Y/N was beautiful, and it wasn’t just Clarisse who noticed. Boys were always hanging around, trying to get her attention. But Y/N wasn’t interested in any of them for long. She liked the chase, but she never let things go further than a kiss or two.

Why was this girl hurting Clarisse so much, Clarisse knew nothing would happen, why can’t she get over it.

Eventually pain turned to anger, Clarisse would train more, not stopping until the late hours of the evening, people got worried, especially Y/N, she wanted her old friend back, not the distant girl Clarisse had become.

ما تفوقي شوية

Days turned into weeks, and Clarisse tried to push her feelings down, to ignore them. But it was hard when every little thing reminded her of Y/N. The way she laughed, the way she tilted her head when she was deep in thought, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she loved.

She's not your girlfriend

It’s a little better now, Clarisse told herself. Y/N had broken up with David, some new guy Y/N liked, but Clarisse had known it would happen eventually, but that didn’t make it easier. Y/N was single now, but Clarisse wasn’t sure if that meant she had a chance.

She likes a boy, she likes a boy And I'm not a boy, I'm not a boy I'm not a boy, I'm not a-

After all, Y/N liked boys, and Clarisse... wasn’t a boy.

She likes a boy, she likes a boy She likes a boy, she likes a boy

She likes a boy, she likes a boy. The words echoed in Clarisse’s mind, a constant reminder of the barrier between them. Clarisse had finally accepted that Y/N didn’t feel the same way. Y/N would never see her the way she wanted to be seen.

And I'm not a boy, I'm not a boy I'm not a boy, I'm not a- I'm not a boy

I’m not a boy. Clarisse repeated the phrase to herself, over and over, like a mantra. It was a painful truth, but it was one she needed to accept. Eventually, she knew she would find someone who felt the same way about her. But for now, she had to let Y/N go.

Y/N eventually moved on, finding someone new, another boy who caught her eye. Clarisse watched from the sidelines, her heart aching, but she kept her distance. She couldn’t keep torturing herself, couldn’t keep hoping for something that would never happen.

Fuck that guy

Fuck that guy, Clarisse thought, with a mix of anger and sadness. But she knew that it wasn’t Y/N’s fault or the boy’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Some things just weren’t meant to be.

And as hard as it was, Clarisse knew she had to move on too.

#clarisse x female reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader

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meetinginsamarra · 6 months ago

Text

mayprompts2024, #31 pride

Chapters 1 to 8 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

+++++

Just to give you a heads-up, this AU is not finished with today's prompt.

But it will be tomorrow!

I wrote a longer ending and I don't want to cram all of it in here today. Therefore, there will be a "mayprompt 32 determined". 😊

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Eleven (pride)

Have I ever wondered about the shop’s name?

John took his time to think about it. Answering Sherlock’s agitated question correctly was of utmost importance. Not trying to guess what Sherlock might like to hear. Sherlock would probably detect any lie in a matter of seconds anyway.

John did not want to jeopardize the trust Sherlock had shown to him so far by opening up about his troubled past. Therefore, he decided to be completely honest.

“Actually, no. I just thought it was a very catchy name and the design of the running pony was beautiful.” John admitted. “Sorry, if that’s disappointing but it’s the plain truth.”

Sherlock laughed but it was a pained and unhappy sound.

“The White Pony is street slang for cocaine, John.” Seeing the involuntary widening of John’s pupils, Sherlock carried on, his voice dripping with self-contempt.

“Yes, I’ve been a junkie. A full-blown cocaine addict at the age of 22 and when I overdosed the third time I died in the ambulance on my way to the hospital.”

Sherlock’s agitation manifested itself in restless pacing around the tattoo parlour while he talked in rapid-fire mode.

“The reason for my phoenix is not as glorious as the one for yours. It’s neither heroic nor is it noble. It’s just pathetic. The tattoo covers all of the damage the needles inflicted onto my veins but the scars are still below the ink for everyone to see if I let them. Which I don’t. My phoenix is reminding me on a daily basis that I’ve been weak and stupid.”

Sherlock stopped in front of the computer, pulling visciously at his curls and staring wildly at John.

John was baffled by the amount of self-loathing Sherlock felt. If all of the caustic derision and acidic hate in Sherlock’s rant had been directed at John, he would have dissolved into a puddle right on the spot.

Carefully, John got out of the recliner chair and walked up to Sherlock.

“How long have you been sober?” He asked calmly.

“Eleven years since my rehab following the reanimation.” Sherlock snorted. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“Sherlock, believe me, I’ve had my fair share of dealing with addiction. Not myself, but my sister has been an alcoholic since her teens.” John spoke slowly and firmly, making sure that every word found its way into Sherlock’s brain.

“She had multiple tries to get sober and been to rehab. But sadly, she never managed to stay that way. The addiction always claimed her back, sometimes it took two years, sometimes it was just two months.”

Sherlock calmed a bit. Curiously he watched John, listening intensely.

“Yes, you are an ex-junkie.” John nodded. “But the emphasis is on the ex and not on the junkie.” John stepped up very close to Sherlock and fixated him with a stern stare to really drive his point home.

It didn’t work.

Sherlock’s face became hard and in a flurry of motion he pulled the black t-shirt over his head and flung it away onto the ground.

On part of Sherlock’s chest and over his right shoulder, John saw a masterfully tattooed realistic head and neck of a pony.

“But that’s exactly it, John! The cocaine will never leave me!” Sherlock exclaimed and slowly turned so that John could see his back. It was covered with the body of a running pony.

“The White Pony is always running behind my back, following me everywhere. It looks over my shoulder, watching and waiting that I’ll cave someday and invite it back into my life.” Sherlock spat furiously.

The total lack of understanding sparked John’s ire. “You totally misunderstood what I’d meant to say. How can you be so fucking thick?”

John’s voice raised in volume. “My sister, Sherlock, she never made it. Nine months after I’ve returned to London, she died of alcohol poisoning and acute liver failure.”

John fought back the stinging sensation in his eyes.

“So don’t you dare,” John poked his index finger right into Sherlock’s chest who immediately flinched over the silent rage in John’s eyes, “to think that you’re weak. Eleven years of sobriety is a fucking long time, Sherlock.”

Another poke.

“You had to be strong to resist the siren call of substance abuse every time when life got difficult again and obstacles have turned up.” John poked the chest once again, forcefully and this time it was intended to hurt.

“You have been strong and you have achieved perfection in what you do!” A vicious double poke followed.

“You should be fucking proud of yourself, God dammit Jesus Christ holy shit!”

++++++

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @calaisreno

#mayprompts2024 #my sherlock fanfic #white pony tattoo #number 31 pride #no beta we die like (wo)men

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ashwhowrites · 1 year ago

Note

Punishing Chrissy by splitting her open with your strap?? Please and thank you!

Ps I love your writing!

Before my partner and I got together, you will not believe how many times I've thought about something like this. I truly think Chrissy would look gorgeous taking (my) a thick strap and definitely during a punishment.

Ps thank you so much! 🥹

I hope this is what you wanted :)

Never proofread

Dom reader ( use of strap, Chrissy likes to be embarrassed and belittled)

~~~

Y/N knew by dating the head cheerleader that many boys would drool over Chrissy. That ex-boyfriend like Jason Carver would stop at nothing to win her back. Any boy she gave slight attention to would become obsessed with her in seconds, like Eddie Munson. Then there were young boys, like Dustin and Mike, experiencing love for the first time but didn't exactly hold a threat.

Everywhere Y/N turned, she'd walk into a pit of hormonal boys that wanted to be under Chrissy's skirt. It didn't help that Chrissy was an angel. A perfect golden child with a bright smile that made everyone weak. It didn't help that she was so lovely to everyone. It was impossible not to fall at her feet. But Chrissy didn't see the desire in all the boys' eyes, she just thought everyone wanted to be friends. And Y/N hated that.

~~~

"Hey so Eddie needs help with some science, is it okay if I come over later than we planned? Just like by an hour? Your parents are still gone, yeah?" Chrissy asked, her blue eyes looking apologetic, but a sweet smile on her lips.

Y/N groaned, that was an hour less she got to spend time with her girlfriend. And with her parents gone, she and Chrissy had quite the night planned.

"Yeah that's fine Chris, but I might start without you if you keep me waiting." Y/N winked, pecking Chrissy's cheek as she walked away. Making sure she swayed her hips a little extra to tease the poor cheerleader.

"HEY! NO" Chrissy shouted after her. Y/N looked over her shoulder to see Chrissy against the locker, a pout on her face.

Y/N smirked and blew her a kiss.

~~~

Chrissy wasn't paying any attention to Eddie and she felt horrible. She tried so hard to teach the boy the lesson but her head was stuck on the idea of her girlfriend touching herself. Y/N didn't have patience when she got horny. It was either help her when she asked or she would it herself and make Chrissy watch. And Chrissy did not want to just watch.

"Okay Eddie, I really need to go," she said quickly, standing up and collecting all her books.

"but you said until six, that's still half an hour," Eddie said confused, he needed the help but also wanted to spend time with her.

Chrissy looked at his sad eyes and felt the guilt on her shoulders.

"You're right. Let's try again but I really need to leave at six."

Eddie nodded and smiled as she sat back down.

~~~

Chrissy was panicking, Eddie offered to drive her but his van didn't seem to want to do the work.

"Eddie, I can just call someone," Chrissy suggested, Eddie continued to look under the hood of his van.

The clock is getting extremely close to ten minutes after six. She had until six-thirty to get to her girlfriends or her night would be miserable.

"It's okay! It's working" Eddie cheered.

They both got in the car, Chrissy telling him the directions to Y/N's house.

"Are you two having a sleepover?" Eddie asked turning out of the school parking lot.

"yeah, something like that," Chrissy said, playing with her fingers as she stared at the tiny watch on Eddie's wrist.

"Oh, that's fun. What type of girly things are you guys going to do? Paint each other's nails and talk about boys?" Eddie laughed.

"We don't really care to talk about boys" Chrissy joked, she knew that Eddie had no idea Y/N was her girlfriend and sadly it wasn't something Chrissy could come out and say whenever she wanted.

"Are you and Jason going to get back together? I know he's been talking about it." Eddie said, trying to dig for information for himself.

"Absolutely not. Done with him" Chrissy snapped, even his name made her blood boil. She can't believe she was that dumb to like him, even love him.

That relationship taught her many things and the main thing was that the way he treated her was nothing compared to what Y/N offers. Chrissy thought relationships were one-sided, she felt she had to deserve sweet things like flowers and dates. She thought there was nothing anyone would love about her once they got past the cheerleading exterior. But Y/N showed her so much more than that. Chrissy learned to love parts of herself she didn't think was possible.

And now thinking about her just made Chrissy want to be with her even more.

"Okay well, you are here and right on time!" Eddie cheered, Chrissy smiled and yanked off her seat buckle. She was getting ready to tear open the door when Eddie touched her arm.

"Can I ask you something? I'm sure Y/N won't care, it'll just be a minute."

Chrissy went back and forth in her head. A minute wasn't long, but a minute in Y/N's world was a minute too long.

As Chrissy battled in her head, Eddie used it as an opportunity to speak.

"Would you want to go on a date this weekend? Go see a movie at the theater?" Eddie suggested.

Chrissy didn't want to ever hear him ask that question, because now she had to reject him and hurt his feelings.

"I'm not looking for anything like that, I'd just like to be friends." She said, finally making her way out of the car.

She didn't bother to hear his response, racing into Y/N's house.

"I'M HERE. I AM SO SORRY." She yelled, running up the stairs and heading for the bedroom.

"You are late, princess," Y/N smirked from her spot on the bed. From what Chrissy could tell, she hasn't started without her. Fully clothed, flipping through a magazine as she laid on her stomach.

"Just by a little," Chrissy whined. Y/N's eyebrow quirked up at the sound of Chrissy's whining.

"Well, I already knew you would be late, I finished like ten minutes ago." Y/N shrugged, no regret on her face.

"That's not fair! You didn't give me a chance. What if I did show up on time? " Chrissy argued, crossing her arms. Her attitude was revealing, another thing Y/N didn't like.

"Well you didn't so we don't have to play that game." Chrissy was growing annoyed at Y/N's responses.

"Well, do you even want me here? I mean Jesus, I might as well stayed with Eddie." Chrissy snapped. Y/N's eyes hardened in seconds, the magazine being tossed to the floor.

"Oh? Is Eddie worth more of your time?" Y/N tested, slowly rising up on the bed, and kneeling on her knees as her challenge hung in the air.

"No," Chrissy said immediately, the anticipation of what Y/N could be thinking was making Chrissy clench her thighs.

"No, no. I don't think that's what you said." Y/N clicked her tongue, moving off of her bed to stand. Walking slowly to Chrissy's nervous frame.

"I didn't mean it." Chrissy gulped hard, her eyes watching Y/N's every move.

"So are we just saying things we don't mean for fun? Let me try, I wasn't planning on you fucking me. I planned to fuck you like the cock slut you are." Y/N mocked, turning her head to the side to show fake pity.

Chrissy moaned at her words. Already feeling a wet patch growing in her underwear. "Will you, please?" Chrissy begged.

Y/N laughed at the girl, shaking her head as she cupped Chrissy's jaw. "I didn't mean it."

Chrissy felt like she could cry. She was so turned on, so desperate, and she felt stuck. She wasn't sure what the right answer was.

"I'm sorry. Please, I want to be good." Chrissy pleaded, slowly dropping down to her knees as she looked up through her eyelashes.

"Yeah? Tell me, did he make a move on you?" Y/N asked, her touch returning to Chrissy's jaw. Holding her head in place.

"Um yes ma'am, he asked me out on a date." Chrissy squeaked out. Trying to keep her breath steady when Y/N's touch squeezed her jaw.

Y/N smirked, a chuckle leaving her lips. "Not surprised, where to? Where did he think he was going to take my pretty girl to?"

"Movies." Chrissy replied, keeping it short and straight to the point.

Y/N felt the jealousy burning through her veins. Imagines of Eddie's slimy hands working their way under Chrissy's skirt in a dark theater. She knew exactly what Eddie wanted.

"Strip and get on the bed " Y/N demanded. Stepping back to give the girl space to stand.

Chrissy nodded immediately, rising to her feet and yanking off her cheerleading uniform. Hickeys from past nights lingered around her upper thighs. Y/N licked her lips as Chrissy removed her bra, her small tits bare to the cold air. Her nipples hardened immediately. Chrissy took off her underwear, walking past her girlfriend as she made it to the bed.

"Such a good girl. Lay on your back and show me your pretty pussy." Y/N ordered, feeling herself grow aroused as Chrissy's legs spread open. Wetness sliding down on to the sheets below.

Chrissy felt shy underneath her girlfriend's stare but knew better than to hide herself away. Allowing Y/N to soak her in.

She watched as Y/N reached under her bed, grabbing out Chrissy's favorite strap. Chrissy clenched at the sight of it. Always loving the way Y/N fucked her with her cock.

Y/N removed her clothes, standing naked as she called Chrissy up with her finger. "You want my cock? Get it ready."

Chrissy nodded, sitting up and putting the strap on her girlfriend. Pressing soft kisses to her stomach as she strapped it on Y/N.

Leaning back once it was on. Watching as Y/N lubed up her cock, Chrissy could feel herself throbbing.

"God you are so fucking hot." Chrissy purred.

"I'm going to ruin your pretty pussy." Y/N practically growled, Chrissy barely had time to react before the tip of Y/N's cock was sliding into her.

"Oh my god, you are so fucking big." Chrissy whined. She could feel her walls stretching open to take in her girlfriend's cock.

"Way bigger than that freak will ever be." Y/N said, using her hands to hold on to Chrissy's hips, pushing herself fully into Chrissy's cunt.

Chrissy screamed as Y/N didn't bother to be gentle. The second her cock was fully in, she was sliding it back out. Just to pound into Chrissy all over again. A fast pace, hitting every part of Chrissy's cunt, and hitting it hard.

"I...fuck...I" Chrissy tried to speak but everything came out in broken moans. Y/N would never admit it, but Chrissy knew she loved claiming her more than anything. Something Y/N couldn't ever do unless it was within an empty room. Whenever she had the chance to remind Chrissy exactly why Y/N will always be the best Chrissy has ever had, she proved her point until Chrissy was sore and her cunt was used until it quit.

"Should I go slower so you can get your pathetic words out?" Y/N teased, changing her pace to go slower. Sliding in and out of Chrissy's cunt, her wetness covered Y/N' cock. Y/N could see how wet her cock was when she pulled out, leaving just the tip in.

"No, no. Alllllll." Chrissy moaned, trying to push her hips to take in Y/N's cock.

"But you can't even speak. How embarrassing for you. I slow down to help you out but all you want is to be stuffed full of my cock. Chrissy felt embarrassed by Y/N's words but she couldn't deny how close she was just from the words alone.

Y/N took pity on her, pushing her hips against Chrissy's and burying her cock all the way in. "I know exactly why he wanted to go to a movie theater."

Chrissy could hear her girlfriend's voice, but her brain wasn't comprehending any of it. Just the sound waves hitting her ears. The feeling of Y/N's cock deep in her, and the slow circles Y/N began to rub on her clit. She was seeing stars, shapes, she couldn't tell if her eyes were open or not.

"Bet he wanted it to be nice and dark," Chrissy gasped as Y/N did one hard thrust. "So no one could see when his hand slipped up your thigh," another hard thrust. The circles on Chrissy's clit went faster. "I bet he'd tease your slutty hole, tease those pretty lips before using one finger to feel how wet you are." Another hard thrust, the orgasm was building in Chrissy's stomach.

"Probably thinks he'd know just how to finger you, hit the right spot," she grunted, hitting the exact spot that made Chrissy scream. "Like that? He would think it would be so easy to make you fall apart. He doesn't know anything."

"Close." Chrissy managed to get out. Her fingers scratching down Y/N's back. Hooking her legs together around Y/N's waist, keeping her locked against her.

"Yeah? You gonna be my good girl and cum? Soak my cock? Isn't this so much better than being with him?" Y/N mocked, her tone was harsh and demanding, something Chrissy loved hearing. Loved being put in her place, loved being fucked when she was wrong.

"God, yes! So.... much better. Love... when ....shit shit...you fuck me." Chrissy panted. Y/N admired the way Chrissy's tits bounced with every thrust. The way her mouth opened when Y/N pinched her clit. The way Chrissy's hand moved down their bodies, her fingertips holding herself open as Y/N pounded into her.

Y/N rubbed Chrissy's clit faster, bringing her closer to her orgasm. Using her free hand to trail up to Chrissy's neck. Wrapping her hand around her throat, the vibrations of Chrissy's moans hitting her hand.

"Cum for me." Y/N demanded, tightening her grip on Chrissy's throat, rubbing her clit as fast as she could while keeping it in a rhythm. Chrissy squeaked as she rocked her hips into Y/N. Moaning and screaming as she felt herself clench around Y/N's cock.

"Right there, yes, yes, fuckkkkk" Chrissy panted as she came. Squirting all over Y/N's cock and fingers. Soaking the sheets below. Feeling her own body being covered in herself. Her skin turned red, knowing the mess she made.

"Oh look at that." Y/N teased, slowly removing her cock, using the tip to collect more of the mess Chrissy made and pushing it back in. She loved the way Chrissy's cunt kept trying to push her back out.

"Such a mess you made. Making a mess of my cock, of my sheets, and even yourself." Y/N continued to tease. Removing the strap completely, stepping back to take Chrissy's used body melting into the sheets.

No man had anything on her.

#chrissy cunningham smut #chrissy cunningham x female reader #chrissy x reader #chrissy cunningham fluff #chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy Cunningham smut x female reader #chrissy cunningham stranger things

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starseneyes · 2 years ago

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Chenford - Lucy Chen / Tim Bradford - The Rookie - Season 5 - Ep 22

"Under Siege" AKA "Who in the Writer's Room Likes Horror?"

It's a bizarre day. If you love Chenford, then you need to know what's going on with the WGA - Writers Guild of America. They are striking for a fair wage and basic protections.

WGA members craft this ship and show we love so much, so please show solidarity for them as they fight for not only their future, but for future generations of writers.

SPOILER ALERT: If you want to remain spoiler free, I have no bloody clue why you're here. I can only assume a friend told you to check this out as a cruel joke. First off, dump that friend. Second, buckle up. It's about to get spoilery!

All good? Great! I can't wait to dive in.

Arrest Me... but make it SCARY

A bit of a different vibe for our opening tonight. No, this isn't Chenford-direct. But, it's important to know the vibe of this episode going in.

If any of you are Avengers: Infinity War fans, you might recall the Wanda / Vision relationship, and their whole sequence where they were ambushed. Originally, it was a lot longer, and had more of a horror movie vibe.

I loved that they went outside the box on that to play with genre throughout the movie.

I feel like The Rookie is playing with that a bit. It's been a while since my heart pounded during an episode.

In all honesty, it was probably Day of Death that last had me on the edge of my seat... and I watched that after I started Season 5 with near-canon Chenford.

Yes, I'm spoiled. Yes, I think OG Chenford fans deserve medals for their patience.

Speaking of which, your patience with me is likely wearing thin... let's get to the Chenford.

"Hey I heard it was Thornson."

Tim and Lucy show up together, and I'm having flashbacks to the two of them bailing out her UC buddy in the dead of night. These two know how to get moving when it matters.

Tim and Lucy immediately separate on their separate missions. That didn't work out too well for Celina and Aaron, but it looks like Chenford survive the night.

Look, I have a lot of ship trauma. "Leaf on the wind" anyone? Yeah, I've got ship trauma.

"A blood drive has been set up at the hospital. If you can do so, please volunteer at the end of shift."

I'm reminded of the fact that Tim Bradford regularly gives blood, so I'm heart-warmed that he's the one who gets to deliver the news to the team.

"Those are not store-bought Halloween masks."

It struck me immediately that Lucy is sitting front row like a Rookie.

Yes, I know that they are packed in there, so somebody has to sit up front... but it's Lucy, so it feels symbolic. As though she is sitting in the Rookie spot in Celina's honor.

"Hey. We heard the good news about Aaron. Unfortunately, none of our CIs have heard anything about a gang targeting the cops."

I know it's a little detail, but I love Tim and Lucy showing up together everywhere.

Of course, someone on Twitter called out the 4x01 parallel to them showing up at Wesley's together after I initially watched the episode. And they're so right. It's another parallel among many in this episode tonight!

"I hate to say it, but this is not gonna break tonight."

This one I spotted immediately the first time through—it's another night where he's sending everyone home because there's nothing more to be done... just like when they lost Jackson.

And I have to wonder if the intentionality of these parallels is to confirm or subvert expectation.

Like, are we supposed to see this similar sequence of events as an omen of doom? Or are we drawing these parallels with the intent of intensifying the torture before the cathartic release of Aaron's survival?

I guess we'll find out together in Season 6.

"I can't lose another."

Oh, Grey. Poor Grey. I guess I wasn't the only one having flashbacks.

Tim and Lucy Embrace

Tim knows Lucy is having that same flashback. There are too many similarities, too many things tying them all back to Jackson and the loss they all endured.

Angela about to give birth. Someone targeting them. An ambush and a shooting.

Yes, Aaron has a chance at making it. But the weight of this moment is not lost on this team who has suffered too much loss before.

Lucy and Tim step into the apartment, and they barely make it past the door before they're in one another's arms.

It's wordless. Tim motions to Lucy, and it reminds me of the hand motions when he offered to carry the War Bags after their last ride together.

Tim and Lucy no longer need a shorthand... they don't even need words.

He knows what she needs without her asking, and she knows what he's offering without a word spoken.

Back in Season 4 Episode 1, Tim asked what she needed. She asked for the hug. Now he knows what she needs in this moment as easily as he knows his own—some semblance of comfort in the horror of history repeating.

QUICK EDIT: Upon rewatch, I find I didn't imagine his "Come here" the first time (another call back), so technically he did use words... but they weren't needed.

Tim holds Lucy in his arms—so similar to their positioning in 4x01—but that's where the similarities end. Because Tim and Lucy of Season 4 no longer exist.

Everything has deepened between them since then. And while, yes, the hanky panky is fun... the trust is what they both need here.

They can't trust that everything will be okay. But they trust that with one another they are truly safe. And right now, they both need that comfort.

"It's okay," he whispers as he holds her, wishing it were true.

Tim kisses Lucy's forehead as he holds her, rubs her arms, and tries to offer some comfort as she leans against him, sobs overtaking her... like the first time he held her in Day of Death.

I know that we're going for the 4x01 parallels with how this is shot and staged, but I see the DOD ones, too. This is where they are safe when nowhere else feels safe.

Tim's hand cradles her head as he holds her. And much as this hurts like hell, this moment is important.

Tim and Lucy are one another's safe place. With each other, there are no pretenses or pretending, anymore. They no longer hide from one another or themselves.

They've embraced the beauty of who they are together, and while there will be many moments of joy... the sorrow is a part of the journey.

Tim and Lucy have had their share of it, true. But this is the first time they've traversed it as boyfriend and girlfriend. And the impact of enduring possibly losing another officer and friend to an ambush is too much.

Does being together make it easier? Hell, no. Is there a slight comfort in knowing you're not enduring it alone? Oh, yes.

"No we know. We ran your prints ... you don't get out of bed for less than 20K a day. Who hired you?"

Tim and Lucy are very good at what they do, and I love how they are supporting one another and building upon each other.

I miss them riding together, but we see what makes them great—they both think on their feet and they are sensational at the "yes, and".

I love getting to see the professional side still fires so beautifully between them. It's a feat I feared fumbled, but I'm freakin' psyched it fared fine.

Oh my goodness, that's way too much alliteration. But, I'm leaving it. It's ridiculous and it makes me smile!

The Trip Wire

Another commonality with Season 4 Episode 1. Gee wiz, we're going for lots of references with this one, and that leaves me curious about the intention... and whether there's a common thread that we're somehow missing that leads all the way back.

Or, I'm reading too much into it because I'm weird. I can roll with that, too.

Tim joins up with Lucy outside the house where she asks him for clarity that none of them have. What the hell is going on!?

"We should move on." "What? No."

Love that Lucy still stands up to Tim at work.

Look, even when he was her TO and then her supervisor, Lucy never shied away from speaking her mind. In this case, she sees something they're missing. And she's not going to let them miss out on an important piece of the puzzle.

"You think it's personal?" "I mean, look, if I was gonna go to the extreme of targeting police officers, why not take out some of my enemies along the way?"

And with that, Lucy BadAss Chen cracks the case. No, I don't know if that's her legal middle name. But it should be.

My brain immediately goes back to Tim accusing her of a social media obsession that happened to crack a case back during one of the Documentary episodes.

There's no skirting around this one—it was all Chen.

"I'll take Moran." "You're not going by yourself." "I'll go with her."

Alright, Fierce Protector. You do you.

"You should be out kicking doors with Metro." "I'm good." "I don't need you protecting me."

Well, damn, I thought it was just me! I thought I was gonna be the only one in this Meta calling out Tim in the Protector role, but I guess my on-screen bestie had to chime in, too.

Also, bringing back "Good" in this scene, which truly feels like their word, and I love it.

Tim will always have Lucy's back. He knows that she is capable and strong, but he's also her boyfriend and spent a lot of time as her TO and then Supervisor. Worrying about her was a part of his job, and now it's an ingrained part of his life.

He's not trying to undermine her independence or capability. He simply wants to be close because then he knows she is safe and doesn't have to hold his breath wondering.

"So, clearly what you're saying is you need me protecting you." "Clearly. You know me so well."

It was pinging my brain, and I couldn't figure out why until someone pulled out the DOD GIF on Twitter and I started slow-clapping like a sports movie.

Yes, of course! When Lucy woke up in the hospital to find Tim by her side... as he is, now.

I kept seeing DOD parallels in this episode, and I'm strangely comforted that others did, too.

Plus, a return of "Clearly", which has been another of Tim and Lucy's words. "Clearly, Ashley's gotta go." "Clearly this isn't working out."

"I'm happy it's you at my six." "Back at you."

Major "We protect each other" vibes, and I bloody approve. Look, we know that Tim is a Fierce Protector. But he also knows that his girlfriend is a kick-ass bad-ass.

Now, we enter into a fight scene that is a bloody masterpiece.

Yes, I wondered why they emptied their clips at the Riot Shields, but I'm not a cop, so I don't know if there's some logic behind it I don't possess. Other than that... this fucking rocked.

Like, literally. I couldn't have been the only Xennial rocking out when Janes Addiction started playing! Someone go hug the Music Supervisor, Music Coordinator, Screenwriter, Director, or whoever threw that track out there, because it's bloody brilliant.

Tim and Lucy are working together, talking it out as they go. And we see all that time they've put into building their communication is really on display, even in a bloody battle.

"We stand a chance, but only together."

Hell, yeah, Lucy! I've been saying that all season. No, not in terms of having the high ground (rest in pieces, Anikan Skywalker's limbs), but in terms of getting through this thing called life.

Tim and Lucy stand a chance of surviving as Chenford through end of show only if they work together.

And on-the-screen in this particular moment, the same holds true.

"Pull not push, copy that."

Love. Them. Look at Tim taking the word of his capable wife and putting it into practice.

Tim and Lucy are literally fighting for their lives, here, and they are fighting together. When one's on the brink of being overwhelmed, the other is there.

Lucy delivers a strike to free up Tim. He takes on several at once, and she goes for the shield. I was screaming, "Hell, yeah, baby girl!" like the big sister I am to my on-screen bestie because she was crushing.

Tim is the master of pepper spray, I swear. He's used it in many creative ways, but super smart to go straight for the eye-holes on the masks to try to penetrate.

Lucy's close to losing consciousness when Tim rips the guy off of her, repaying the earlier favor of her freeing him up. It's a literal give-and-take... in a fight for their lives. This is bloody brilliant.

Nolan finally makes it up there, and Tim helps Lucy through the door to the stairwell, literally shielding her with his body.

Once inside, Tim has his hand on one of his favorite places—Lucy's leg. But this isn't a sexy-time touch. This is the, "Thank God you're alive" touch. If they hadn't worked together, that could have ended very differently.

"I have Bradford and Chen secured upstairs."

Chen and Bradford, sir. It's Chenford. Not Braden.

"You should be on your way to the hospital." "We'll go after."

At least Tim is saying he'll go. Like, seriously, this guy is the king of avoiding medical attention. And too often when he's gone in, he did so knowing nobody was waiting for him on the other side.

Now, not only is he willingly going to go in with his girlfriend, he knows that they'll leave together. Look how far our boy has come.

A Glance

Our last moment of Tim and Lucy is just a glance... a subtle glance between the two of them where that wordless communication comes in.

They've always have this layer to their relationship—communicating without a word. But it's so much deeper, now.

And as we reflect on the end of a season, I have to say it's been incredible to witness their growth alongside y'all in real-time.

This season has been an absolute roller coaster, and my first with all y'all! I started with 5x01, had to catch up, and have loved this whole journey.

Thank you all for being so welcoming to a late-comer like me. And thank you for reading!

Remember, love one another. Give yourself grace. Don't worry about "perfect" because it doesn't bloody exist. Go after your dreams. Fuck Fear. And believe in yourself, always.

And if you're not ready to believe in yourself... know that I believe in you. And I'm always rooting for good things to come your way. You've got this.

#Chenford #Lucy Chen #Tim Bradford #Melissa O'Neil #Eric Winter #Lucy x Tim #Tim x Lucy #Meta #The Rookie

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modelbus · 4 months ago

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I really liked your last Ranboo post ! It’s so cute and funny :))

For the event could I request cc!Dream with a Band AU and the word Sweetheart ? It seems like a good combo and it’s funny considering the droncerts xD

Have fun writing and ily /p

Calling them droncerts still makes me laugh so much

Pairing: Cc!Dream x Gn!Reader

Band AU - Sweetheart

You knew the image the two of you presented.

Dream’s arm around your shoulders, his breath in your hair, your shoulder wedged against his chest. It was casual, but the media called it everything but that. It didn’t bother you much: the media liked to put Dream with every member of the band.

Besides, if you were forced to go to parties for publicity reasons then you might as well be comfortable. And Dream just happened to be a good pillow. Who would sue you for that?

Across the room, you watch as Sapnap—your drummer, and a man with more energy than anyone should ever have—sinks a ping pong ball into a red solo cup. Beer pong, a game you’d never be conned into playing with him. He was simply too good at party games like that, and you didn’t enjoy being drunk nearly as much as everyone else seemed to.

Stood next to him, watching, was George. He mostly played the keyboard for the band, although you knew he also worked with Dream to help plan the lightshows and effects. How he got dragged into Sapnap’s bad idea, you didn’t know. That’s usually how it went; Sapnap would drag him into something, he’d get invested, and they’d create chaos wherever they went.

That left two more members of the band. One being you, obviously, the resident guitarist. The other being the guy draped over you, your favorite vocalist.

“You put money on this one?” Dream asks you, practically murmuring it into your ear. When you shift to glance at his face, he’s watching Sapnap and George. His eyes flicker down to you, sparkling, then he goes back to the game of beer pong.

“Not this one.” You finally answer, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Nasty habit. “I should’ve. We could’ve made bank off Sap.”

“Don’t we?” He jokes cheekily.

Before you can respond, maybe with a quip about all the merch Sapnap loves to suggest, someone drops into the chair next to the couch you’re on. You go to lift your head from Dream’s shoulder, but his hand shifts to press your head back down.

“You guys are in that band, right? That real popular one?” The stranger asks. Some blond guy, shit-eating grin and a gold chain on. Not to mention the baseball cap backwards on his head.

“Yeah.” Dream confirms for the both of you.

“Damn, you guys are, like, everywhere right now.” He squints at the two of you, like you’re some puzzle. “Didn’t know you were dating. Don’t really pay attention to that gossip shit.”

Before you can even open your mouth to correct the guy, Dream interrupts with an easy smile. And if you thought he’d correct him, you were very wrong.

“Yeah.” He simply says.

You drive your elbow into Dream’s side as retaliation, but his smile only grows. You hate this band, you swear.

“Could I get, like, a pic? And an autograph? I’m no fan, just my… uh… brother… is.” The stranger looks eager, and you sigh. He definitely doesn’t have a brother, he just wants to sell the autograph online and use the picture for likes.

“Of course, man.” Dream nods, but makes no move to straighten up or look any better for the picture. You laugh quietly, deciding to stay put too.

The stranger pulls out his phone, aiming it at the two of you, and it’s only after he doesn’t move to get in the photo that you realize he doesn’t want to be in it. God, how see-through can one person be? He could’ve at least tried to play it off.

This is exactly why you hate these fucking parties. The next time your manages demands you go to one, you’re never going to accept.

“Say cheese!” The guy practically shouts, staring at your unsmiling face.

“Smile, sweetheart.” Dream whispers to you, quiet so only you can hear.

It sends shivers down your spine, his tone of voice. But you smile at the camera, holding it just long enough for the dude to snap his photo.

“Sweet! Let me grab a paper for you two to sign!” He says excitedly, hurrying off.

“He isn’t even trying to hide it.” You complain to Dream immediately.

He snorts, nodding. “Pathetic. Let’s go before he gets back?”

You brighten at the idea of escaping the party. Maybe he’ll finally let you help him design the light show.

“With you? Anytime.”

#dsmp #mcyt #mcyt imagine #dream #dream mcyt #dreamwastaken #dream x you #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader

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layce2015 · 1 year ago

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Malleus Maleficarum

Masterlist

"She was so scared. I couldn't help; I couldn't do anything to stop it. And I've talked to the police, and I've talked to the medical examiner and no one can explain it." Mr Dutton said to me as Dean and Sam search around the house. "Well that's why they put the call in to us, Mr. Dutton." I said to him.

"But the CDC, that's disease control right? What do you think; it's some kind of virus?" he asked me, confused. "We're not ruling out anything yet." I said. "Mr. Dutton, did Janet have any enemies?"

"I'm sorry?" he said, confused. "Anyone that might have a reason to hurt her?" I asked him. "Wait, what are you saying? That somebody poisoned her?" Mr Dutton asked, slightly panicked. "I'm just saying we have to cover every base here." I said. "Well, I mean, what kind of poison? You think a person could have done this?" Mr Dutton asked.

"Would anyone want to?" I asked, curiously. "What?! No, no, there's just no one that could've--" Mr Dutton started to say but stops as Sam and Dean open the bathroom door. "Mr. Dutton?" I said and he looks over at me and shakes his head.

"Uh, everyone loved Janet." He said and I look over at the boys and they nod at me, letting me know they were done. "Okay. Thank you very much; I think we've got everything we need. We'll get out of your way now." I said to Mr Dutton and the three of us began to walk out.

We walked out of the house and the rain poured down on us as we made it over to the Impala. "That guys seem a little evasive to you?" I asked the boys. "Don't know I was under a sink, pulling this out." Sam said as he takes a hex bag out of his pocket and hands it to me as we stop. I take the bag from Sam and open it.

"Hex bag." I grumbled. "Awww gross." Dean said, disgusted. "Yeah, there are bird bones, rabbit's teeth. This cloth is probably cut from something Janet Dutton owned." Sam said as Dean and I look back at the house for a second and turn back. I hand the bag to Sam and we start walking towards the Impala again.

"So, we're thinking witch?" I asked. "Uh, yeah, and not some new age wicked water douser either. This is old world black magic guys, I mean, warts and all." Sam said as we get into the car. "I hate witches." Dean exclaims, making Sam and I chuckle.

"They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere." said Dean. "Pretty much." Sam said. "It's creepy, you know, it's down right unsanitary." Dean said. "Yeah, well someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton." I said.

"Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag. So what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy blair bitch in the woods." Dean suggests. "No it could be anyone. Neighbor, coworker, man, woman that's the problem Dean, they're human, they're like everyone else." Sam said.

"Great, how do we find 'em?" Dean asked, annoyed. "This wasn't random; someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly axe to grind. We find the motive-" I said then Dean finishes the sentence for me. "We find the murderer." he said.

"Yeah." Sam and I said, in unison, then Dean starts the Impala and pulls away from the curb, driving off in the rain.

Throughout the day, we followed Paul to see if there were any hints of witches near him or if he was somehow involved with his wife's death. At first everything seemed normal, nothing out of place, but then at one point he was sitting in his car, eating. It was a few minutes after sitting in his car, the door opens and he crawls out, coughing. The boys and I run over to him and we see that he was coughing up maggots.

"Check the car!" Dean yells at me and Sam. We began to search under the dashboard and steering column as Dean tries to help Paul. "Guys!" Dean yells just as I found it. "Got it!" I said as I get up and remove the hex bag while Dean pulls Paul up from the pavement. "Come on." Dean said and I light the hex bag on fire and drop it to the ground as it glows with blue and green flames

Moments later, Paul recovers from choking and leans back against his car. "You okay?" Sam asked him. "What the hell is happening to me?!" Paul asked, panicked. "Someone murdered your wife and now they're trying to kill you, that's what's happening to you." Dean said, firmly. "That's impossible! There's no way-" Paul exclaims but I speak up.

"If we hadn't have been following you, you'd be a doornail right now." I said and he looks up at me with worry. "Now who wants you dead?" I asked him.

"I-uh..." Paul stammers but Dean speaks up. "Come on think." He said. "There's a woman-uh..." Paul stammers. "A woman, okay?" Dean mutters. "An affair--a mistake, she was un-balanced, she was blackmailing me and I put an end to it a week ago." Paul replied.

"What's her name?" Sam asked him. "What could she have to do with--?" Paul asked but Dean talks over him.

"Paul, what is her name?" he asked and Paul looks between us.

Later, Dean picks the lock and we enter Amanda's house, our guns drawn. We enter the room and I switch on the light, only to find Amanda's lifeless on the table covered in blood. "That's a curveball." Dean said as I let out a sigh. "Yeah." Sam mutters and we approach Amanda's body.

Dean lifts her right arm with the barrel of his gun then looks at the other as well. "Three per wrist, vertical. She wasn't foolin' around." Dean points out as I put my gun in the back of my jeans and bend down to look at the scattered remnant of the altar, holding my nose to the smell of the burnt rotten food.

"Yeah, looks like she was working some heavyweight evil here." I said. "Yup." the boys said as Dean turns around nearly running into the hanging body of a rabbit. "Oh God! Freakin' witches! Seriously guys, come on!" Dean yells as Sam and I look at the rabbit.

"Guess we know where she got the rabbit's teeth from." Sam said. "Well, Paul sure knows how to pick 'em, huh? It's like Fatal Attraction all over again." I said. "Yeah." Sam mutters. "And why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal?! The poor little guy." Dean said, upset.

"You know what I don't get, boys? If she was so bent on revenge, why do this?" I asked them. "Well, she got Janet Dutton, thought she finished off Paul, decided to cap herself and make it a spurned lovers hat-trick." Dean replied. "Maybe." I muttered as I start to look under the glass table that Amanda is on.

"I mean, this doesn't exactly look like the TV room of a bright and stable person, you know?" Dean said. "No, but then..." I said as I reach around and pull out another hex bag that was tucked under the table and stand up tossing it to boys, Sam catches it. "There's this." I said and Dean looks over his brother's arm to see the hex bag.

"Another hex bag?" Sam said, shocked.

"Come on!" Dean shouts as Sam opens the bag to find similar contents of the bag we found in Janet's bathroom and he tosses it on the table while Dean reaches for his phone. "Looks like we got a hit, huh? A little witch on witch violence?" Dean said. "I guess." I said, shrugging, as Dean dials the phone and hold it up to his ear.

"I'd like to report a dead body, 309 Mayfair Circle. My name? Yeah, sure my name is..." Dean said and he clicks the phone shut, cutting himself off.

"Why are witches ganking each other?" Dean asked us. "I don't know, but I think maybe we got a coven on our hands." I said and the boys share a worried look.

"You must have a green thumb." Sam said to this woman after we walked up to her driveway while she was turning the soil of her garden. "Excuse me?" She asked as she turned to us. "Getting these herbs to grow out of season like this, quite impressive. I'm sorry; I should have introduced myself first." Sam said and he reaches on the pocket of his suit jacket and takes out a badge. "I'm uh, Detective Bachman, this is Detective Turner and Detective Thornton." Sam introduced as Dean and I take our badges out of our jacket pockets and flash it at her.

"Hi-ya." Dean greets.

"Afternoon." I said, smiling.

"We're following up on Amanda Burns' death, going around the neighborhood and talking to neighbors and stuff like that." Sam said to her and she looks between us, nervously. "But didn't she- I mean she killed herself right?" She said. "Maybe, maybe." Sam said.

"We heard you were friends with the deceased right?" I asked her. "Yeah, I guess so." She replies. "Did you have any idea about her practices?" Dean asked her. "I'm sorry, what kind of practices?" She asked.

"Well see, her house was littered with satanic paraphernalia." I said. "A regular Black Sabbath." Dean added. "No, the- but she was an Episcopalian." The woman said. "Well, then we're pretty sure she was using the wrong bible." Dean said then a couple of footsteps come up to us and we turn and see a couple of women coming up to us.

"Elizabeth, you alright?" the dark haired woman said. "I'm fine uh Renee, these are Detectives. They say Amanda was- she was practicing-" Elizabeth stammers then her friend, Renee, turns to us. "I'm sorry Detectives; you can tell that Elizabeth is a little bit upset." She said, a bit rudely honestly. "Of course, Miss...?" Dean said.

"Mrs. Renee Van Allen. Would you like me to spell it for you?" she sneered at him and I narrow my eyes a bit at her. "We'll get by, thanks." I snapped and she turns to me. "This Amanda business has been hard for Liz, for all of us." She said then her friend speaks. "Yeah, I mean, you think you know a person."

"Well, I guess we all have secrets, don't we?" Dean said as we stare between the three women. "Well, thanks, um, we'll be in touch." Sam said after a few moments of silence. "Have a nice day." I said and the women tell us goodbye.

"Well, I'm already sold on that Elizabeth chick? Did you see that victory garden of hers? Belladonna, wolfs bane, mandrake, not to mention that little flinch she threw when we mentioned the occult." Dean said as we drive down a foggy country road. "Well, she's definitely had a good run lately, gone up a few tax brackets; won almost too many raffles. Kinda thing a little black magic always helps with." Sam said as he reads over some files. "Yeah." Dean mutters.

"I don't think she's alone either, look like Mrs. Renee Van Allen has won almost every craft contest she has entered in the past three months." said Sam. "Yeah, a regular Martha Stewart, huh?" I joked. "Except for the devil worship, I'm thinking that was the coven back there we met minus one member." Dean said and I shrugged.

"Amanda was clearly going off the reservation, what do you think they killed her to keep up appearances?" Sam asked. "Seems like an appearance kind of crowd, don't you think?" Dean asked. "Yeah." mutters Sam.

"If they killed the nut-job should we uh, thank them or what?" I asked. "They're working black magic too, (y/n), they need to be stopped." Sam said. "stopped like stopped?" Dean asked as he and I look over at Sam, a bit shocked. Sam gives us a look that says of course.

"They're human, Sam." Dean said. "They're murderers." Sam said. Dean and I look at Sam for a second, with doubt, and then resign ourselves. "Burn witch, burn." I remarked as Dean continues to drive when the Impala stutters and starts to choke up.

"What the hell?" Dean said, confused. The head lights of the Impala flicker on and then back on again as it slowly comes to a stop in front of a blonde woman sanding in the middle of the road.

Sam gets out of the car first and Dean and I follow. "Ruby." Sam said. "Sam, listen to me, there's no time." She said. "For what? What are you talking about?" Sam asked her. "You have to get out of town." She warns.

"So this is Ruby, huh?" Dean asked then he raises the colt and aims it at her, cocking it. "Never had the pleasure." Dean said. "Dean!" Sam shouts at him. "I was hoping you'd show up again." Dean growls.

"Point that thing somewhere else." Ruby said after rolling her eyes. "Hahahaha, right." Dean chuckles as I placed a hand on his arm. Ruby ignores him then turns to Sam. "Sam please, go, get in the car and don't look back." She begs. "Why? I don't understand." Sam said.

"Hey, hot stuff, we can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks." Dean said. "I'm not talking about witches, you jackass, witches are whores. I'm talking about who they serve." She said and the boys and I look confused for a second, but then it dawns on me.

"Demons, they get their power from demons." I said and Ruby nods. "Yeah, and there's one here, now." She said. "Oh, what, you mean besides you?" Dean asked but Ruby ignores him.

"Sam, it knows you and your friend here are in town and it's gonna come after you two and it's way more than you can handle." Ruby said as she gestures to me. "Me?!" I said, confused. "Oh come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this crap!" Dean yells at Sam and Ruby turns to Sam. "Put a leash on your brother Sam, if you wanna keep him." She ordered.

"Dean, look, just chill out." Sam pleads as I turn to him. "No, no! She's messing with your head, God knows why, that's who they are!" Dean yells. "Dean, honey, calm down!" I said.

"I'm telling you the truth." Ruby said, firmly. "And I'm telling you to shut up bitch." Dean growls. "I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!" Ruby asked, angrily. "Oh, I don't know maybe because he's my brother. And now you're saying my girlfriend is in danger too, you black eyed skank!" Dean shouts.

"Oh, right, right. You care about your brother and girlfriend so much, that's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving them all alone?" Ruby sneered. "Shut up." Dean growls. "At least let me try and save them, since you won't be here to do it anymore." Ruby said. "I said shut up!" Dean yells and he moves to fire the colt at Ruby.

"Dean no!" Sam screams as he pushes Dean's arm away from Ruby as he fires the colt, and Dean tries to fight against Sam's hold and they lock arms. "Boys, stop!" I shouted as I try to fight their hold. Then we look to where Ruby was standing to see that she has vanished.

Dean gives Sam a look of disappointment and goes back to get in the Impala, as Sam looks around in vain for Ruby. I sigh then follow Dean to the car.

Later, at a hotel, Dean walks in first and switches on the light and Sam and I follow right behind him. "What the hell were you thinking?" Dean shouts at Sam. "What?! What the hell was I thinking?" Sam yelled. "She's a demon, Sam, period alright. They want us dead, we want them dead." Dean yells.

"Oh, that's funny; I remember that demon chick in Ohio, Casey? You didn't want her dead." Sam said as I just look between them. "Yeah, well she wasn't stringing me along like a fish on a hook." Dean argues. "No one's stringing me along. Look, I know it's dangerous, that she is dangerous, but like it or not, she is useful." Sam said. "No, we kill her before she kills us." Dean growls.

"Kill her with what? The gun she fixed for us?" Sam asked. "Whatever works." Dean grumbles and I sighed. "Dean, if she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives." Sam said and Dean turns away from us and goes to the sink turning on the water.

"Look, we have to start looking at the big picture Dean, start thinking in strategies and- and moves ahead." I said as Dean splashes water on his face and Sam nods. "She's right. It's not so simple, we're not- we're not just hunting anymore, we're at war." Sam said as Dean turns off the water and looks at Sam in the mirror above the sink, grabs a towel to dry off his face and turns back around to us.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked Sam. "Uh, why are you always asking me that?" Sam asked as he sits on the foot of one of the beds in the room, and Dean moves back toward Sam. "Because you're taking advice from a demon for starters, and by the way, you seem less and less worried about offing people, it used to eat you up inside." Dean explains. "He's got a point, Sam." I said.

"Yeah, and what has that gotten me?" Sam asked. "Nothing, but it's just what you're supposed to do okay? We're supposed to drive in the friggin' car and friggin' argue about this stuff. You know, you go on about the sanctity of life and all that crap." Dean yells. "Wait, so- so you're mad because I'm starting to agree with you?" Sam asked, confused.

"No, I'm not mad, I'm- I'm- I'm worried, Sam." Dean said as he moves and sits down on the foot of the other bed in the room. "I'm worried about you too, Sam." I said and Sam looks at me. "Because you're not acting like yourself." I added. "Yeah, you guys are right, I'm not. I don't have a choice." Sam said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked him as Dean looks up at him. Sam sighs then looks at Dean. "Look, Dean, you're leaving right? And (y/n) and I gotta stay here in this craphole of a world, alone. So the way I see it, if I'm gonna make it, if I'm gonna fight this war after you're gone, then I gotta change." Sam replied and I noticed Dean has been looking increasingly uncomfortable during Sam's last speech, and is now clutching his stomach in discomfort and leaning forward slightly.

"Change into what?" he asked. "Into you, I gotta be more like you." Sam said and Dean tightens his face in pain, and leans further over still clutching his stomach and side with his left hand. "Dean!" I said, worried, as I go over to him.

"What's going on with you?" Sam asked as Dean moves around in pain still clutching his stomach, and he can barely force words out. "I don't know. Oh- guys something's wrong- bunch of knives inside of me-" he groans then Sam moves off the bed and kneels in front of Dean, who is now leaning all the way forward with his head almost between his legs.

"Son of a bitch-" Dean groans and my eyes widen and I turn to Sam. "The coven, it's gotta be the coven." I said and he gets up and rush into the bathroom, opening the cupboards below the sink looking for the hex bag as Dean groans in pain and lies back on the bed, his face still twisted in pain. "Hang on, baby." I said as Sam pulls things out of the cupboard throwing them aside.

Dean leans back forward falling to his knees in front of the foot of the bed, spitting out blood, choking and sputtering. Then I get up and start to look around the room for the hex bag but couldn't find anything. Sam and I pull off the covers to the bed tearing back the sheets and I slice the mattress open with my knife but still cannot find the hex bag

"Dean, we can't find it." I said, worried, as Dean falls over sideways and looks weak and hurt and still in pain. "No." Sam mutters. As Dean continues to cough blood more weakly now, Sam rummages through his bag and pulls out the colt and opens it to make sure there are bullets in it.

"Sam, what are you doing?" I asked him as Sam gets up and moves toward the door. "Sam." I called out but Sam leaves closing the door behind him. "Sam!" Dean and I shout but he was gone.

Dean was leaning over a pool of blood he has spit out gasping and coughing blood as I try to think of what to do. Suddenly, there were quick footsteps outside and the door is kicked open and Ruby steps in. I pull out my knife, get into a stance and step in front of Dean. "You wanna kill me? Get in line bitch." Dean sneers.

Ruby ignores him and looks at me. "Do you want to keep him alive?" She asked me as I look at her. Then I look at Dean. "(Y/n)..." he groans and I look back at Ruby then step aside for her. "Better not make me regret this." I growled as Ruby goes over to Dean and pulls him up by the collar tossing him on the bed. She leans over him and forces his mouth open with her left hand as Dean tries to push her away.

Ruby sprays a black liquid into his mouth from a bag at her side with her right hand while Dean still struggles under her hold. Ruby stands up as Dean chokes on the liquid and spits some back out. "Stop calling me bitch." Ruby growls and Dean starts to look better and I go over to him and check him over then clean the blood and black liquid off of his face.

"Next time you point that gun at me, I'm not gonna just disappear, understand?" Ruby said as she tosses a sawed off shotgun over to me as Dean was back to sitting on the foot of the bed. "You saved my life." Dean said to her. "Don't mention it." Ruby said.

"What was that stuff? God, it was ass, it tasted like ass." Dean grumbles. "It's called witchcraft shortbus." Ruby replied as she turns and walks out of the room closing the door behind her and leaving us. "You're the shortbus...shortbus." Dean grumbles and I shake my head. "Come on, we got to go after Sam." I said to him and we start to head out.

We make it to Elizabeth's house and run in with our shotgun drawn and see Sam was held up against the wall by an invisible force. And a woman with short dark hair was standing in from him. We draw our guns at her but she turns around easily and throws us over the sofa. We get up, but she pins us to the wall behind us.

"Three for one, lovely." she said, smiling. "Wait." Ruby shouts as she walks in with her hands raised in surrender. "Please, I just came to talk." She said as she puts her hands down. "You made it out of the gate, impressive. That was a bitch of a fight, wasn't it?" The woman sneered. "Doors outta hell only open for so long." Ruby said.

"What do you want, Ruby?" the woman asked. "I've been lost without you, take me back. That's why I led the Winchesters and (l/n) here." Ruby said and Dean looks angry, and mouths I told you so to Sam while I sigh and roll my eyes.

"They're for you, as a gift." Ruby said to her. "Really?" The woman asked. "Let me serve you again, I've wanted it, I've wanted you for so long." Ruby said as she walks closer to her. "You were one of my best." The woman said as her and Ruby look at each other, until Ruby pulls her knife out and tries to stab her, but the demon catches it in mid-air.

"But then again, you always were a lying whore." she said and the knife is thrown sideways out of their hands across the wood floor. The two fight for a bit until the demon throws Ruby into the TV, but Ruby gets up and kicks her and goes to run past her, and the woman clotheslines Ruby causing her to fall flat on her back.

She pulls Ruby up and throws her into a bookcase and gets a fireplace poker from the stand on the hearth, looking at Elizabeth who was cowering from, before the woman walks back to Ruby with the poker in her hand.

"You're really telling me you threw in your chips with Abbott and Costello here?" the woman asked, nodding towards us, as Ruby tries to get up, and the demon hits her across the face with the fireplace poker. Elizabeth then runs out of the room.

"Come on, get up." the demon growls while Ruby is panting and not moving, with blood coming out of her nose. "I said get up!" she yells as she tosses the poker aside and crouches over Ruby grabbing her by the jacket and pulling her up. "We've been here before, haven't we?" She chuckles to herself and looks over at Sam.

"She didn't tell you?" She asked then she turns back to Ruby and continues. "Pretty mortifying I guess. She was one of mine. I turned her out a long, long time ago. Ruby here was a witch. Of course that was when you were human."

The three of us look at this surprised even though we are still both pinned to pur respective walls. The demon throws Ruby back down onto the debris of the bookcase she crashed through and stands up. "Didn't want your friends to know that all those centuries back you sold yourself to me? Embarrassing I guess, but don't worry love, no secrets where you're heading remember?" She said and she begins to chant and black smoke rises out of Ruby's mouth curling and hovering inches above her mouth.

But then she begins to cough.

As she coughs harder, Dean and I were dropped from the wall and fall forward. Sam also falls from the wall and drops to the floor as I look up and see the demon brings her hand up to her mouth. She coughs up a handful of long pins into her hand, her mouth bleeding in the process. She looks at the pins and raises her right hand and clenched it into a fist.

Dean then comes up behind her and stabs her in the back repeatedly with Ruby's discarded knife. The woman dies as well as the demon that was inside of her and she falls to the floor. Dean looks at Ruby and goes to help me and Sam up and they move toward the door and stop to look at Ruby.

"Go." Ruby said as she looks at us slightly embarrassed and wipes the blood away from her mouth. "I'll clean up this mess. Dean and I start to walk toward the door, helping Sam on his way. "Come on." I said but we stop and look back at Ruby one more time. Ruby turns her eyes black and glares at us. "Go." She orders and we walk out the door.

Dean and I were walking outside of the hotel, together, as the lights flicker, we look around, and then back to where we originally was looking and see Ruby standing there in the shadows of the hotel parking lot. "So the devil may care after all, is that what we're supposed to believe?" Dean asked her as we walk up to her. "I don't believe in the devil." She replied.

"Wacky night." I remarked then I look at her. "So let me get this straight, you were human once, you died, you went to hell, you became a..." I started to say and she nods. "Yeah." she said and she turns to leave.

"How long ago?" Dean asked her. "Back when the plague was big." Ruby reply as she turns back to us. "So all of 'em, every damn demon, they were all human once." I said. "Every one I've ever met." Ruby said.

"Well, they sure don't act like it." Dean remarks. "Most of them have forgotten what it means, or even that they were. That's what happens when you go to hell, Dean. That's what hell is, forgetting what you are." She said. "Philosophy lesson from the demon, I'll pass thanks." Dean growls. "Its not philosophy, it's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit, agonies you can't even imagine." She said.

"No, I saw Hellraiser, I get the gist." Dean said. "Actually they got that pretty close, except for all the custom leather." Ruby said. Dean and I look at her thoughtful and Ruby stops her departure, and turns back to us.

"The answer is yes by the way." she said as she looks at Dean. "I'm sorry?" Dean said, confused. "Yes, the same thing will happen to you. It might take centuries, but sooner or later hell will burn away your humanity. Every hell bound soul, every one turns into something else. Turns you into us, so yeah, yeah you can count on it." She said.

"There's no way of saving him from the pit is there?" I asked her. "No." she replied and I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Then why'd you tell Sam you could?" Dean asked her. "So he would talk to me, you Winchesters can be pretty bigoted. Same thing for you, (l/n). I needed something to help him get past the-"

"The demon thing? It's pretty hard to get past." Dean growls. "Look at you, tryin' to be all stoic. My God it's heartbreaking." Ruby said.

"Why are you telling us all this?" I asked, a bit annoyed. "I need your help." she said. "Help with what?" Dean and I said, confused. "With Sam. The way you stuck that demon tonight, Dean, it was pretty tough. Sam's almost there, but not quite, you two need to help me get him ready, for life without you, Dean; to fight this war with you, (y/n)." Ruby said and she turns and walks away again.

"Ruby, why do you want us to win?" Dean asked her and Ruby turns back around to face us. "Isn't it obvious? I'm not like them, I- I don't know why, I wish I was, but I'm not. I remember what its like." she replied. "What what's like?" I asked. "Being human." She replied and Dean looks down lost in his thoughts.

I give him a worried look and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me and places his band over mine then we look up to see Ruby has disappeared leaving us alone in the parking lot.

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