#i have a 2 strike system

[fallen-gravity]

Something about Maui being a demigod for thousands of years and his body already being covered in tattoos, so when he’s severely injured from dangerous encounters he either no longer scars at all (perks of immortality and all that), or they’re covered by his tattoos, so nobody would be able to tell any difference at all just by looking at him.

Something about Moana only being a demigod for a number of days, with only the one tattoo on her arm, her body not quite adjusted to the power and life-sustainability that comes with new immortality, still scarring as easily as any other human. Something about Moana having a huge, lightning bolt shaped scar running down her entire back. She can’t see it, and she doesn’t feel the pain of it anymore, so she doesn’t even know it’s there.

Something about her trying to avoid talking about what happened with her family and her people, because she doesn’t want to worry them. Something about Chief Tui and Sina watching her walk away, some innocent comment about how she’s going to go lay down and rest because she’s tired from the journey, and noticing the scars on her back before they notice the tattoo on her arm.

Something about her not saying a word at all, but them piecing it together themselves. Something about them knowing something tragic and awful happened out there, and that the daughter who returned to them is not the same daughter who left at all.

[augustsails]

Finally took the time to download Octopath Traveler Arrangements Break and Boost Vol 2, and y’all….it is so fucking good.

Ochette’s them??!? So damn good! The songs from Champions of the Continent?? Stellar.

[thefirstknife]

First, I wanna say that I do NOT condone the extenely nasty and toxic behavior of various parts of the fandom, especially towards the devs. But I'm starting to wonder more and more if this is actually something the company brought on themselves? The game at this point relies on an increasingly expensive and predatory FOMO model and a lot of players seem to exhibit symptoms of genuine addiction to the game, or at least a very unhealthy relationship cultivated by that FOMO and "well I sunk all this money in I can't just stop now" mindsets. Which leads to players burning out and being irrational, which leads to some players being ruder or cruel and gives toxic players (who would be toxic anyway) a community that doesn't reject them out of hand because the community itself is so exhausted and frustrated and genuinely struggling to have a healthy connection to the game due to the entire model it operates under. It doesn't mean the devs or other players deserve the cruelty they've faced, but it feels like this behavior breeding among the fans is the natural consequence of the direction the game has gone. (I notice this in various mobile gacha type games that are heavily FOMO and predatory, too--the addition and sunk cost issues seem to make it truly difficult for people to be able to behave rationally)

In a way, I guess? It's not really the devs making these decisions though, it's the executives and marketing which pretty much has nothing to do with the game itself. It's still Bungie, but this stuff goes beyond just Bungie and just Destiny and just game development.

Basically, what people are mad about is capitalism. But since it's much harder to fight a whole system we live under and the system under which games are being made, people instead turn to individual companies and then also on devs, mostly because devs are the ones who are visible online. A marketing CEO from Bungie who signs off on these decisions isn't on Twitter.

I definitely wouldn't say that any company "brought individual employee harassment" on themselves. Like, no matter what state the game is in, you should never go for the random devs online and people should know that, no matter how mad they get. They're definitely not making these decisions and a lot of them are actively against them. For example, this is from a senior narrative designer at Bungie:

Note that the first thing he mentioned is "monetization and business interests overshadowing artistry." This isn't isolated, it's just one person who wanted to share, but it's a general sentiment among the actual devs. Nobody wants their work to be subjected to the aggressive monetisation schemes that ultimately piss off the consumers and ruin the product itself.

But as I said, the issue here goes above and beyond just one game or one dev studio. A lot of people keep talking about awful monetisation in Destiny, but I genuinely can't agree that Destiny, of all games, is the worst game monetisatio-wise. I'm actively involved in games that are worse and especially games that became worse, the best example of which is Overwatch. I don't think Destiny gamers could even comprehend how awful Overwatch became monetisation-wise. And that doesn't even begin to dive into other horrible practices in the gaming industry.

The point isn't to say that just because there's worse than Destiny, that Destiny is fine. It's definitely not and some things have certainly changed for the worse, though there were also horrible practices in Destiny before that were since removed. There used to be loot boxes. Like, actual gambling loot boxes. I would honestly just buy the ornaments directly rather than being tempted to buy 50 loot boxes and gamble. The only good part was that dismantling items from loot boxes could give you bright dust, but that makes sense for loot boxes that you had to buy with silver. So technically you bought that dust with silver. You could get them also for levelling so there's that, but that was really the only way to earn anything. Grind insane hours and hope for the best or take the easy way out: buying boxes for money. I cannot stress enough how much gambling is the worst predatory practice in existence in the gaming industry. Nothing else will ever be as detrimental and scummy as encouraging gambling. People don't really remember this or even know, but the switch to direct purchase is actually better.

However, of course, the increase in the amount of things that are silver-only is definitely felt. One of the worst parts is shaders for me. Shaders got no business being for silver and in bundles where you technically have to spend $10 for a shader. Event cards are also a sore spot; they're literally just Eververse bundles, but with extra steps that tie them to an event so you feel like you're earning stuff in gameplay. They come together with random currency (tickets) that stays unused unless you buy the card. It's 100% made to make people want to pay.

But sometimes the criticism on monetisation is also really superficial and from people who don't understand game development. One of the examples that people often use is dungeon key. Now, personally, I think that dungeon key should be separate for each dungeon instead of forcing you to buy 2 dungeons at once for $15. You should be able to buy just one. Like, come on. However, the idea that we have to pay for dungeons is not a predatory practice. It's content that has to be made and requires resources and dev hours (regardless of what people think of the dungeons). People will usually say "dungeons used to be available with seasons!" This is a lie.

Before WQ, we had 4 dungeons released since vanilla D2. Shattered Throne was the first and it was a part of the expansion. Pit of Heresy was second and it was a part of the expansion. Prophecy was a part of Season of Arrivals (!). And Grasp of Avarice was 30th Anniversary, a separate pack that had to be bought separately. Out of all dungeons available so far, only one was a part of the season and I genuinely don't even know how they managed that and I feel like some devs probably laboured over Prophecy essentially for free. So the idea that "dungeons were just for free in seasons" is just a lie. Only one was, an exception that possibly negatively impacted developers. If we want 2 dungeons per year, we will have to pay for them. And we do. It's either that, or maybe they can include one dungeon in the expansion and that's it. I wouldn't mind that, but the same people shitting on devs are also the people who shit on devs over "content droughts" and "not enough content" so I don't think that would satisfy them.

The point is that while some of the criticism is absolutely warranted, a lot of complete misunderstandings and lies often get mixed up with it and this all results in the situation we're in now where the only thing that the community is doing online is being negative and spiralling into dev harassment. And they end up feeling justified because the company is engaging in predatory practices. It's very easy to get into that mindset and to feel like you're not just allowed to harass, but encouraged.

The biggest issue with monetisation is always people who spend a lot of money aka whales. And by a lot, I mean a lot. Like there are people who buy every single thing in the store (and this is applied to all games). An average player buying a shader once in 3 months is not a problem. The whales are what shows up on marketing reports and what makes soulless capitalist ghouls add more of this shit to games. Which makes it even worse that the people who are perpetuating this hate train against monetisation riddled with incomplete misleading information and lies ARE WHALES. Aztecross who made the big video is a whale. Last time people checked his stream, he literally had 8000 silver in his account and people who watch his streams have said that he frequently has segments with his chat where they look at the store and he buys stuff, ON STREAM, while also asking his chat which items he should get. He's a hypocrite who is doing this to earn more money and is, to me, not any different from the soulless capitalist ghouls that work in gaming industry marketing departments.

The best thing he can do, if he cared about this topic, is to stop playing and stop making content about Destiny. Like, that's genuinely it. If he and other content creators like him are so serious about this topic and believe that the monetisation is such a serious problem in Destiny, they should stop spending money, stop playing, stop marketing the game and stop making content for it. There is no other way for Bungie to get the message, certainly not by going at random devs. And then after that, the next best step would be to involve yourself in political action to bring stricter laws to the whole gaming industry when it comes to predatory and anti-consumer practices.

In the meantime, serious talk: if any video game ever made you feel like you have to spend money, especially money you don't have, and you spent that money against your better judgement, please reach out to someone. It's not shameful and you're not alone. Games are a hobby and entertainment and should never put you in financial risk or ruin. If any video game is too much for you and you can no longer pay for it, but you feel like you have to keep playing and it's risking you financially, again, please reach out to someone. There are people who can help you deal with these feelings, especially if you know you can become addictive. The gaming industry as a whole preys on people's need for entertainment and dopamine rush and if you can't resist it on your own (which is, again, not a shameful thing), there's options to get help. This is mostly about the extra stuff like microtransactions, but it also works for just base game stuff. A year of Destiny content is cheaper than a year of some other games, but it doesn't mean that it's something everyone can afford. You can absolutely skip seasons or even expansions. You can also wait for them to be on sale and I always recommend looking out for sales anyway. There's genuinely very little value in being constantly pushed by FOMO and there IS a way to get out of the FOMO mentality. You can work on that, especially with people who can offer professional help if you need it.

Never let the capitalist scum control you.

[pezpenser205]

lucky for me, an attention addicted trans person in the south who also hates commitment, the only thing people in texas enjoy more than picking on and wishing death upon trans people is sexualizing and fucking them before pretending they never met them.

for a normal person this would be nightmarish, however, because i see humans as worthless and vain creatures with no psychological ability to engage with me beyond surface level sex stuff and socialization and parallel play i only benefit from this situation.

if you never expect loyalty or genuine, deep rooted connection then you can get what you want from people and dip whenever you want to. if you dont like anything anyone does you can just leave them and theres always someone else near instantly because everyone is replaceable when you take away the expectation of meaning.

i literally cannot be taken advantage of anymore because im doing it back. i see why people always did this to me now. this is awesome. i think younger me was just stupid and sensitive with too high of expectations for human beings, bc lets be real humans are absolutely not capable of longterm loyalty or devotion like i expected them to be a few years ago tbh. they want to believe they are but they arent like my species. realizing im not a human at all has made this so much simpler. they just dont get me because they cant.

movies and stories are like. what if the world were made of pudding type scenarios. they arent real and have little to no resemblance to real humans. theyre what humans wish they could be. theyre like if people were actually capable of higher thought and emotional reasoning but most of if not all humans are dumb as bricks in every regard and bring nothing of value but temporary fun before they get annoying or decide to be assholes.

id rather just take what i want and leave if theyre going to continue to prove themselves unworthy of my attention this way. like i said before, lucky for me they were already aiming to do that to me first, so i dont have to worry about hurting their feelings. its mutual and for sure not personal in any way.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - Part 3

In which you and Max spend the next six months just being obsessed with each other.

Warnings: A little angst, but not 'break up with you' angst, just 'i really fucking miss you' angst so it's okay. And fluff. Tooth achingly sweet fluff. Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 4.4k plus a shit ton of social media posts. - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - Master List

(a/n before we begin: Probably one more part to this. Thinking of doing an 'after Max gets you back to the hotel post-race' part to wrap things up nicely if anyone wants to see that.)

Monaco May 2024

F1GossipOfficial posted

34,028 likes F1GossipOfficial Seems as if our favorite Red Bull driver and sunny little podcaster are getting closer! The pair was spotted around Monaco this week ahead of the Monaco Grand Prix. The pair have been seen publicly a handful of times since Max made an appearance on her podcast The Yapping Hour in late April, most notably at the Miami Grand Prix at the beginning of the month and then the week later in New York City where she is based. Everyone who sent in photos said the pair were super cozy and seemed lost in their own world. user0299 she's only with him for the clout and money. Her little podcast was dying out and she latched onto Max like a leech. >>>user5572 go touch some grass my man. Her podcast is consistently the number 1 listened to show on all platforms all the fucking time. user9938 they are so cute, i can't handle it user4530 I saw them at dinner the other night and oh my GOD. They sat on the same side of the table even though it was just the two of them. He held her hand underneath the table all through dinner and I don't think either of them stopped smiling or looked anywhere else but at each other the entire night. >>>user39948 they are so fucking perfect oml

Canada June 2024 yourpersonalinsta posted

493,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, totowolff, and others yourpersonalinsta Over the moon to have been able to be with you for this win in Canada, Maxie. user299 MAXIE?! I have no one to talk to about this redbullracing our good luck charm strikes again! >>>user456 Red Bull calling her theirs??? Love this for her. maxverstsppen1 thank you for always being in my corner liefje ❤️ >>>user394 how am i supposed to be normal after reading this??? user8827 Not Toto in the likes trying to get on her good side so Max signs with Merc in 2026 >>>user778 HAHA can you imagine??

Amalfi Coast August 2024

maxverstappen1 posted

987,409 likes liked by yourpersonalinsta, redbullracing, yourdad and others maxverstappen1 summer break with this gorgeous girl user458 they are my royal couple yourpersonalinsta wishing we were back on that boat rn instead of on different continents :( >>>maxverstappen1 just a few more weeks until Singapore, schatje. >>>user4938 this is my roman empire >>>user024 mom and dad are sad so i am sad too

October 2024 Austin, Texas

You hadn't seen Max in over three weeks. Three very, very, very long weeks. And not to be dramatic or anything but you felt like you might actually pass away if the Uber that was currently picking it's way through very heavy Austin traffic drove any slower.

While the sleek Mercedes SUV waited at a red light, your gaze drifted away from the navigation system showing the the heavy traffic all around you towards the busy city streets around you. Whoever had decided to schedule an Eminem concert, a huge college rivalry football game, and a Formula 1 race all in the same city on the same weekend should have their head examined.

Fixated on the crowd on the sidewalk outside, you mull over the last six months of your life. It has certainly been a whirlwind, that was for sure. If someone had told you back in the beginning of May that you'd be on your way to your sixth Grand Prix of the year to watch your boyfriend race in Formula 1, you would have laughed in their faces. Because really, when you sat back and considered it, the fact that you had gone from being a fan of the sport and interviewing Max on a professional level to dating him in under six months was absolutely wild.

While you attended races whenever you could, you found yourself more often than not called to the other side of the world to attend to your flourishing career. In the last six months you had ping ponged around the globe, bouncing between weekends with Max and over scheduled weeks filled with work, interviews, and meetings. Some days you just wished that things were simpler and you could just dedicate yourself to following Max around from city to city but you knew that Susan B Anthony would roll over in her grave if you gave up everything for a man so quickly, even a man as amazing as Max Verstappen.

You brush aside the thought of leaving your work because in the end, all that is is a simple fantasy brought on by you missing the man that has become the center of your universe lately.

After attending the Singapore GP with Max, you had spent a few extra days with him in Asia before needing to fly home. While Max did have nearly an entire month break from racing, he couldn't follow you to New York like he had intended. After coming back from the summer break, Max's luck had started to slip and the car had deteriorated. He hadn't won a race in months, the car was an absolute tractor, and Lando was gaining on him in the Championship. He had needed to spend every extra moment he had in the sims and with the engineering team trying to salvage the season.

While Max had been in Europe, you had been in the US recording episodes with Heidi Klum, Wayne Gretzky, and finally Kylie Kelce. Heidi had been in LA, Wayne in Florida, and Kylie in Philly so you had spent most of the last three weeks on the road. As the SUV inched closer to the COTA track, you realized you couldn't remember the last time you'd set foot in your apartment.

Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the realization washes over you. You loved the life you lived, wouldn't trade it for the world but sometimes, in these quiet moments you wished for a break, a chance to go home, wherever that even was now, and just rest.

Your phone buzzing beside you pulls you back to the present. Ysou struggle to shake off the mind numbing melancholy that's settled over you like a thick woolen blanket before answering the call. "Hi baby." You sigh, knowing who it is without even looking at the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" Max's voice is sharp on the other end, effortlessly reading your tone.

You shake your head, chest tightening with anxiety. "Just..." You search for the right words. "tired is all. I just realized I can't even remember the last time I spent a night in my own bed."

"Oh, schatje." Max sighs, knowing how grueling this schedule is as he lives it as well. "Do you want me to have the jet take you home? It's at the airfield still."

Tears collect in your eyes as your chest squeezes painfully. "No, I just want to see you." You whisper, afraid if you raise your voice you'll start to cry.

"How far are you from the track?"

You pop your head around the SUV's headrest to check the nav system. "Not long. Five minutes. I can see the giant observation tower from here."

"Have the Uber bring you right to the paddock gates. I have a car here and a few hours before any media duties. I'll take you back to the hotel myself and we can take a nap together, okay?"

Your entire body sags with relief at his words. If there was one thing that Max was good at, it was taking care of you. He didn't hem and haw or waver on a plan of action. He saw what you needed and made sure that you were taken care of. The way the burden of everything that you had silently carried for years shifted towards Max the moment you landed in Miami all those months ago was something that would shock you for years to come.

"Okay." You whisper, swiping at a single tear that managed to escape.

You have a few moments to collect yourself before the Uber stops at the entrance to the paddock. From your seat in the back, you spot a familiar blonde head that belonged to your Dutch boyfriend waiting for you. You're suddenly simultaneously bursting with excitement and beside yourself with grief as the anxiety that has gnawed at you over the last 24 hours fully consumes you at the mere sight of Max.

Max has you out of the car and into his arms before you can barely catch your breath. The moment you inhale that uniquely Max scent something inside you shifts and becomes crystal clear. You didn't need Max to have his jet take you home because you already were home. It sounded cliche in your head and it probably was, but you knew there was some truth to it: somewhere over the last six months your home had shifted away from your apartment in New York to wherever Max was.

Max tightens his grip around your waist, settling his chin on your head while you stay buried deep in his neck, you realize that home isn't a place any longer. Home is a person now and Max is that person. You don't have to go home to New York to rest, you just have to be in Max's presence. With him, you are utterly and completely safe and secure. For someone who spends 99% of her time 'on' and performing, being able to come home to Max and just switch it all off, allowing him to lead and take over, is the most powerful form of rest you could have ever dreamt of.

Max nods at the driver as he unloads your luggage, arms still locked tight around you. He can feel you melt into him, like you've been waiting for this moment since the last time you saw him. He knows that for him at least, this is true. Everything else in his life is completley falling apart. The car sucks, they had to ditch the special livery for this weekend becuase the fucking paint had the potential to make the car too heavy and slow. Lando has been on a tear lately, that McLaren a complete rocket ship and the only reason Lando hasn't overtaken him in the championship is thanks to some spectacularly shitty calls from the McLaren pit wall.

The only bright spot in Max's day is you. Your voice, your touch, your face. Any bit of you he gets on a daily basis is what keeps him going right now. As he had stood on the curb just moments before, desperately and not so patiently waiting while watching the black Mercedes SUV creep down the street towards him, it had felt like cruel and unusual punishment after being apart from you for so long.

And now? Now you were back in his arms and he drew in the longest breath he could, taking in the scent of your perfume and laundry soap that he had missed so keenly while he'd been working, and he simply couldn't get enough.

Max pulls away slightly, so he can see your pretty face but what he sees in your eyes nearly breaks him. Pain and longing hang heavy in your eyes and there is nothing Max wouldn't do to make all of that go away for you. Fingers tip your chin up towards him so he can finally get his lips on yours, a soft sigh escaping your mouth when he makes that first contact.

You swear it's like a cool drink of water in the middle of a humid heatwave in July, the way Max kisses you with such relief and passion and affection. Like he's trying to tell you through his kiss how much he adores you, how much he's missed you, how much he craves you.

"I love you." Are the first words he says to you and your breath catches in your throat. It isn't the first time he's said those words, Max had said them first all those months back when he brought you home to Monaco. It had been quick, probably too quick by the world's standards, but it just clicked between the two of you and the words had tumbled out of Max like it was the most natural thing in the world. The reason the words had your breath catching in your chest was because of the ferocity behind them, like he could tell how bone tired you were from all the travel over the last few months and he was desperate to remind you why you were doing all of this. Why the two of you were doing all of this together and apart. It was for moments like this, moments where you were attached to each other in the middle of the busy paddock parking lot like no one else existed.

"I love you too, Max." You whisper, dusting your lips over the stubble that was scattered over his jaw. "Can we go take a nap now? I'm so tired."

yourpersonalinsta posted

348,209 likes liked by kyliekelce, maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, and others yourpersonalinsta home is wherever you are (tagged: maxverstappen1) user098 mad max is no more, there is only soft cuddly boyfie max user0399 this is the cutest thing i've ever seen user000 god i am so single maxverstappen1 love you baby >>>danielricciardo SIMP >>>maxverstappen1 absolutely >>>user9938 it kills me that he is loves her so boldly and loudly. girl hit the mfing jackpot. (liked by author)

It's not your alarm that fully wakes you up on Friday morning. It isn't Max's either. But as you try to untangle your limbs from Max's and search for the source of the ringing, you can't help but curse whoever is interrupting the slow sleepy cuddles that had been progressing into something more heated for the past 20 minutes.

You nearly spit you're so mad when you see the caller ID.

"John." You growl, sitting up in bed as Max settles himself back against the mountain of pillows beside you. "It is 8 in the morning on a Friday the day after I saw my boyfriend for the first time in over three weeks. I swear on all things good and holy, this had better be good."

John, to his credit, didn't even scoff at the threat. He'd been your business manager for going on four years now and was used to your early morning attitudes.

"She said yes."

You sit up, back going ramrod straight as the three words clang through you. "What?" You hiss.

Beside you, Max struggles to sit up too, alarm coursing through him at the panic in your voice.

"Tree just called me five minutes ago. Said that Kylie had sent her the episode and wouldn't stop gushing about how amazing you were and how you were the perfect person to do this interview on the end of the tour and everything. Tree said Taylor watched your episode with Michelle and Queen Maxima too, said they were the best interviews she's ever seen. Everything is a go."

Your entire world tilts as what John is telling you fully sinks in. "Taylor Swift's agreed to come on the show?" You voice is weak, heavy under the weight of the news John is telling you. Your hands tremble at the thought of what this means for you. For your career.

Beside you, Max sucks in a breath at your sentence, fully aware of how big of a moment this is for you. Pride soars through him as he watches literal sunshine dance across your face, your smile as bright as the Texas morning light. "Schatje." He whispers, pulling your free hand towards his lips. Your eyes dart over to him and you grin at him, kicking your feet a little, completely unable to hide your excitement.

"She also said yes to your suggestion of a behind the scenes vlog on your channel ahead of the release of the episode. Thought the idea was marketing gold. You've got full access to everything for the entire week."

Before you had landed Kylie Kelce on the show, you and John had made a silly, pie in the sky request to Tree Paine not even thinking that it would go anywhere. When Kylie had agreed to do an episode, a request that had actually been made to her people months before John had contacted Tree, the idea of maybe, just maybe you might be able to land Taylor after had grown a bit. You hadn't told anyone of the request, not even Max, because you didn't want to be embarrassed if it didn't work out.

"There's only one problem." Your heart stops and you grip at Max's hand for support. You knew there had to be a catch. "They want you in Toronto by Sunday."

"Wh-what?" Your stomach plummets through the floor. You had just gotten to Austin last night and now you were going to have to leave again? You were supposed to spend the entire triple header with Max. Three weeks of solid time with him had been the only thing getting you through the previous three week separation. You two had even planned to go visit your parents in Michigan between Austin and Mexico later next week.

"The first concert is Monday and Tree wants you to get as much content as you can and has asked you be there at 9am Monday morning."

You head spins. "Oh-okay." There's a giant Max shaped hole in your heart at what you have to agree to, simply exhausted by the fact that you're going to have to pick up and leave again so soon. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

"Do you want me to have Shannon make flight arrangements?"

You glance over at Max, who senses your apprehension. "Let me talk through it with Max and see what we can figure out. I'll call you in a few hours, okay?"

"Sounds good. Congratulations, kiddo. This is huge."

You smile despite yourself, excitement and anxiety winding their way through your chest making it a little hard to breathe. "Bye John."

You gently place your phone back on the bedside table before turning to Max, bracing yourself for the good and bad news you have to deliver.

"The beginning of that call looked phenomenal but now you look like you're going to be sick." Max observes, pulling you into his lap.

You shudder against when his lips graze your neck, dropping a kiss to his forehead. "Taylor Swift agreed to come on the show and to let me do a weeks worth of behind the scenes of her Toronto shows."

"Baby, that is amazing. This is going to be huge for you and the show!"

You nod, a bit dazed by all of this information you have to process. "But they want me there by Sunday night so I can start first thing Monday." Sadness edges into your voice, the dread of having to leave Max again begins to sink in fully.

"When should Greg have the jet ready to take off then? You'll probably want to leave before the end of the race to beat traffic, yeah? Although I suppose we could find you a helicopter to take you from the track to the airport."

You stare at Max like he's grown three heads. His voice is so nonchalant despite him suggesting he rent you a helicopter that all you can do is blink at him for a few moments. "Just...just like that? You're on board with it? You're not upset?"

Max scoffs, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your shoulder. His arms go tighter around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the cheek. "Why would I be upset? I'll do anything I can to help you live out this dream, schatje. You know that. This is the biggest thing to happen to your career since you had F1 racing legend Max Verstappen as a guest."

The giggle that tumbles out of you has the tension in the room popping like a soap bubble. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you're still here." Max finds your lips then, the kiss full of reassurance and confidence. Of course he was disappointed you were going to be leaving in 2 days and he wasn't sure when you'd be back with him but this opportunity was too good to miss. "I'd never forgive myself if you missed spending a week doing what you love with one of your favorite artists because of me. Of course I'll miss you but you need to do this. So tell me, when should I have the jet ready to get you to Toronto?"

yourpersonalinsta story post

story replies: user8882 ARE YOU THERE FOR ERAS TOUR??? user029 what are you up to ma'am??? user837 wait. first kylie's on the show and now you're in Toronto the same week as Taylor. ARE WE GETTING A TAYLOR EPISODE OH MY GOD.

TheYappingHour posted

876,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, alexandrasaintmleux, and others theyappinghour Toronto, you were stunning! Can anyone guess who our next guest on the show is going to be??? Behind the scenes vlog dropping next week ahead of a very very special two part episode set to drop later this month. user928 oh my god, everyone stay calm, it's happening. user020 IS THIS FOR REAL??? I will never recover maxverstappen1 so proud of you my love >>>yourpersonalinsta couldn't do it without you, maxie >>>user928 if there's one thing Max is going to be, it's the first one in the likes and comments on anything his girl does. (liked by yourpersonalinsta) >>>user0298 may this kind of love find me one day

Excerpt from Episode 59 of The Yapping Hour featuring Taylor Swift:

You: Speaking of what you do in your down time, can we talk about how supportive you are of your boyfriend and show up for him despite the Brad's and Chad's hating every second of it?

Taylor: It's so silly to me, how much everyone hates it. When I show up at the game, I'm just like every other significant other. I'm not there to take the spotlight away from anyone, I just want to watch my man play!

You: Oh my God, I totally get it. It's so strange to me the way some fans can't handle someone like you who has a whole other identity outside of who you're dating, showing up to support the person you love.

Taylor: It's like, relax! I'm just here to watch my boyfriend catch a ball!

You: Right? Just let me enjoy watching 20 cars drive around in circles in peace please!

Taylor: You two are so cute though. Trav was watching the race in Monaco a few months back, right after he invested in Alpine, and there was that one shot of you and Max after the end of the race in his garage and you were giving him a hug. I love how loudly you love him and how public he is about you. It's refreshing.

You: Oh gosh, thank you. Yes, he is so supportive of everything I do, just like Travis is. It's such a comfort, isn't it? *Taylor nods* He actually stayed in Austin an extra day so I could use his jet to come up here.

Taylor: Trav was supposed to go to that race but got caught up in training stuff. It looked like so much fun.

You: Have you ever been to a race? Either of you?

Taylor: I haven't but Travis went to the Las Vegas race last year. Said it was the one of the biggest parties he'd ever been to.

You: You'll have to come this year then! It's in a few weeks!

Taylor: I'll talk to Trav and see if we can make it happen.

TheYappingHour posted

1,039,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, kikagomes, and others theyappinghour What an absolute whirlwind of a week and a half. Spending time with your favorite artist, seeing her in her element, and then spending a few hours talking about everything from what it's like to live such a public life to how important it is to have a supportive significant other. I simply can't wait to share the behind the scenes vlog dropping at the end of this week and then the episode later this month. Taylor, you are a dream of a human being and we are so happy to have had this opportunity. Can't wait to see you and Travis at a race! taylorswift You are such a sweetheart! So glad we got to spend time together this past week! Can't wait to hear the episode my love! kikagomes how does it feel to live my dreammmm bestie??? >>>yourpersonalinsta kiks omg i will never recover from this!! maxverstappen1 Proud of you, as always lifeje. >>>yourpersonalinsta can't wait to see you so so so soon baby

"And he doesn't expect a thing?" You glance up at the ticket counter where the airline employee has begun to call first class. You stand, phone still pressed to your ear, pulling your carry on behind you.

"Nope!" On the other end, Max's PR manager Sophie giggles conspiratorially. "He was just complaining to GP ten minutes ago how he couldn't believe they didn't have more flights from Sao Paulo to Paris. He said he was considering upgrading his jet to one with longer range so he could fly private next time."

You roll your eyes but chuckle. If you were a drama queen, your boyfriend could be the drama king to match sometimes. Although you didn't blame him to be quite honest. After leaving Austin mid way through the race, you had missed the Mexico race entirely. The plan had been for you to fly down to Brazil for the Sao Paulo race but editing and press had taken much longer than you had anticipated so now it was Saturday night and you were boarding a 9 hour flight from New York to the South American country.

Only, Max didn't know that. Max thought you were getting on a flight to Nice via Paris before driving to Monaco where he'd meet you sometime late Monday night or early Tuesday morning. Joke was on him though, you had finished everything up and had called Sophie for help to get you down to Brazil just in time for Sunday's race.

"He's such a baby." You murmur as the flight attendant leads you to your seat.

"He is beside himself missing you." Sophie says and you can hear the smile in her voice. "Just make sure I'm around when he sees you for the firs time, okay? He's going to lose it."

Laughing, you hoist your suitcase into the overhead bin before settling down in the luxurious lie flat seat that will be your bed for the next nine hours. If everything goes right, you'll land in Brazil just as the postponed qualifying is finishing up and will be able to watch the entire race in person.

"Thank you for helping coordinate this, Soph. I really appreciate it."

"Anything to get Max out of this slump he's in!" She replies brightly.

A few minutes later, you hang up the phone and type out a quick text letting Max know you're boarding the flight. Luckily, the flight from New York to Paris is roughly the same time as the flight to Sao Paulo so he doesn't bat an eye when you tell him you'll be unreachable, only telling you that the doorman to his building is expecting you and to make yourself at home in his apartment in Monaco when you get there before he does.

************************************************************************

It is absolutely raining cats and dogs when the car Sophie hired pulls into the track after what feels like a lifetime of travel. Right after they served dinner on your flight, you took a sleeping pill and passed out for the duration of the flight, only waking up once the pilot turned on the overhead lights, signaling your arrival.

A quick text to Sophie alerts her to your arrival and she says she'll come and meet you outside the paddock with an extra umbrella. The driver that picked you up from the airport will take your luggage to the hotel where Max and the team are staying. When the car stops in front of the paddock gates, you spot Sophie immediately.

"Soph!!" You shout the moment you stumble out of the car, limbs a little stiff from the long car ride. Sao Paulo traffic is a beast in the best of weather but in a downpour like this? Nightmarish.

Sophie opens her arms to embrace you, "Oh I am so glad you're here. He is an absolute nightmare right now."

You grimace, knowing exactly why. He'd be starting P17 in a few hours. Between the team having got caught behind a red flag during Q2 and his 5 place grid penalty, it was a nightmare scenario for Max. All of this was compounded by Lando's win in the sprint yesterday and the fact that he was starting on pole today.

"Alright then, lets go. Maybe I can talk him down off a ledge before the race starts."

Sophie grins because she knows you'll be able to do just that. If there was anyone who could calm Mad Max down and bring him back to earth after the kind of morning the team had had today, it was you.

As you weave your way through the crowded paddock, the heavy rain simply not a deterrent to anyone at the track today, Max is in the garage considering the merits of scratching his eyeballs out so that he doesn't have to run this fucking race today. Everything is wrong. The car is terrible. Still. The FIA seemed to have a hard on for fucking up his weekend. Lando was on poll. And worst of all, he really fucking missed you. There was still several days between him and being reunited with you but if he could have just walked right out of the paddock and onto a plane to get to wherever you were in that moment, he would have. The only thing that seemed to settle him during these times lately was your steady presence in the garage. He didn't even need you to say anything, just knowing that you were around, within arms length if he needed you, did something to calm him like nothing else could.

He's talking to GP, actually, he's grumbling at GP when a familiar flash of hair and bright smile catches his eyes. Perfect, he thinks miserably, now I'm imagining her in the garage. I've gone full unhinged obsessed boyfriend, haven't I?

Imagine his shock when he actually hears your voice. "Max." You call out softly, hands clasped in front of you as you wait at the edge of the garage beside Sophie.

Max simply blinks a few times, as if he's trying to figure out if he's hallucinating or if you're really standing in front of him. His heart hammers in his chest when everything finally clicks into place. GP doesn't even bat an eye when Max walks away from him, mid sentence, before crossing the garage in a few short strides.

Max isn't usually one for intense public displays of affection, especailly in the garage and neither are you. There's a level of professionalism he likes to maintain while racing and you have always respected that but when Max sees you standing in front of him, practically drowning in one of his sweatshirts, hair wet and messy from walking through the paddock in the rain, he can't stop himself from scooping you up in his arms. Burying his head in your neck, he inhales deeply. So deeply that his lungs pinch with pain from the way he's trying to commit the way you smell to memory.

"You're here." He murmurs, voice thick and heavy with emotion. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to meet me in Monaco?"

Max sets you down, not really wanting you out of his arms but wanting to move you to a quieter part of the garage. Behind you, Sophie, GP and the rest of the team discreetly shuffle away to give you two a bit of privacy.

"I knew how hard the last two races were for you and I just..." Pausing, you have to wait for a moment for your hands to stop shaking. You've been running on sheer adrenaline and caffeine for what feels like the last three weeks now and the emotion of the moment catches up to you. "I just wanted to be here for you."

Max lowers his lips to yours, covering them in a kiss that is all longing and white hot heat. He keeps the kiss just this side of tame enough for the garage, not wanting to draw the ire of Christian but he had needed to taste you then. His hand comes up to cup your face while the other slips around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body. He's slightly damp from how wet it's been this morning but none of that matters now that you're back in his arms.

"I missed you so much." He murmurs, blue eyes practially sparkling down at you, he's so happy. It's been weeks since he's felt like this. Settled. Like he can take on the world. For the first time in what feels like forever, Max has a sense of determination that wraps itself around him. Like the championship isn't all but lost to Lando. Like the car isn't going to be terrible today, even though he might not even finish in the points. Like everything he's gone through the past few months on the track is all about to end because you're finally here and if anyone can bring the team luck, it's you.

"I love you." You whisper into his chest. "Now, let's go show the world why you're about to become a 4 time world champion, yeah?"

And that's exactly what he does.

yourpersonalinsta posted

938,398 likes liked by redbullracing, taylorswift, yourdad and others yourpersonalinsta we are SO back, baby!!! What started out as a nightmare of a day turned into a generational drive for the history books. P17 to P1 and I cannot believe I was there to witness it. Max, I am proud of you beyond words. You and the entire team deserve this win today. I love you to the moon and back, Maxie. (tagged: maxverstappen1) taylorswift what a race! Trav and I caught most of it before the game today. Congratulations!!! >>>yourpersonalinsta hope to see you in Vegas in a couple of weeks! >>>user928 oh my god, new bestie duo unlocked!? maxverstappen1 words fail to describe how much I love you baby. Thank you for always being in my corner and never giving up on me, even when I want to give up on myself. Love you to the ends of time, schatje >>>user928 i am SOBBING. Boyfriend Max is my favorite Max.

Tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Advice: How To Trauma

In seeing the recent explosion of my "How To Write Trauma With Humanity" post, I have decided to jump back into this topic!

This cute post will be covering how to write complicated individuals with Trauma. From the good, the bad, and especially the ugly since people tend to assume that victimhood is inherently seperated from assholehood

A) Being A Person And Afraid

In my experience, the majority of people with trauma have simultaneously existing fears and desires that often contradict, complicate, or outright hurt themselves.

I call them "fear combinations"

It's these fear combinations that cause people with trauma to often act in ways that seem confusing to outsiders.

For example, the person that's always on the hunt for a relationship but whenever an opportunity for romance strikes, they create relationship havok so the relationship can end

Or a person tries to always sincerely bring attention to themselves but whenver the attention is on them, they just shrug it off as not being worthy of it

This behavior seems kinda weird until you stop to take a closer look at their psyche.

Example 1 is based off of my character, Monday Vũ who has a tendency of jumping into relationships with a sincere desire to find romance until the honeymoon period ends as Monday realizes that if the relationship continues they might have to settle down, forgo their entire identity, and all of their freedom. Then they sabotage the relationship under the guise that it's a selfless endeavour.

Example 2 is based off my character, Niko Preyr who uses grand public gestures and his friendships to prop himself up as a person to be known but if you ever spoke to him then you would quickly see one of the most insecure yet attention-hungry individuals you have ever seen.

"Fear Combinations" are an excellent device in making your characters complex. In my opinion, the trauma-writing scene is just a little bit too neat in it's displays of trauma. It's too logical. It doesn't feel real to my personal experiences.

"he has trust issues because of trauma" What if he also had issues with being clingy to people he sees as trust-worthy?

What if your characters weren't so easy to understand? But I hear you wondering.

How? How do these people manifest such confusing behavior? Why should I add this into my characters?

I'll tell you

B) Instinct Vs Terror, Fighting Against Yourself

In my opinion, "fear combinations" are either caused by the distortion of a human fear or the event in which an intrinsic desire is contrasted against a "survival method".

Humans are born with certain "intrinsic" fears and desires. Humans are born with a desire for belonging, a desire for vulnerability, a desire for self-fulfillment, a desire for independence, a desire for security in themselves.

And with desire comes the fear of "missing out". The fear that you want something that everyone wants but for some reason you won't be able to get it. The fear that you'll loose it. And the fear that your desire might put you into danger. What if you get rejected? What if you never find that group? What if you never find freedom?

In not-traumatized individuals, while it may take some introspection, people can and often do reconcile their fears and desires in a movie-montage when they're children with the help of a strong support system.

In traumtized individuals, what tends to happen is that either the fear of lose and the fear of gain tend to be increased to unpredencented levels

Either that, or a lack of a strong support system doesn't allow the child to safely confront their fears in order to get what they want.

This causes "fear combination"

Niko Preyr has the natural desire to be validated as "good", as "special", as "worthy". A desire we are all born with. However, his upbringing convinced him that he is underserving of what we all need. This causes Niko Preyr to use attention as validation. However whenever he receives this attention, his gifted fear that he is undeserving causes him to reject the attention. But he continues searching for attention to serve that need for validation. A hellish cycle.

Monday Vũ has two understandable fears that we all have. The fear of losing two necessary things: indepedence and security. Monday fears being abandoned, fears being engulfed into relationships. While children and adults can often reconcile those fears in their childhood through a strong support system, Monday never had that. Instead she had her father who emotionally left her and her mother who literally left her. Monday only had herself to rely on, at least thats how she felt. And now, as an adult, Monday wants to fulfill that desire we all have. To be loved. To be connected. But she's afraid. Afraid of being blindsided. Afraid of not having the last laugh. Afraid of being apart of something.

What if that loner wolf found someone who they think is perfect. Someone worthy of their trust. Do you really think that all those years of yearning for love, for connection, are just going to be smothered when they have the perfect person to unleash their childish, half-developed, horrifying emotions onto?

But what next? After we have our character's contradictory fears and desires, after we have the justification for why they feel like this, what's next?

It's this:

C) Self-Destructive Habits: Why We Understand And Can't Change

Let me tell you, unless in very specific conditions such as certain personality disorders and so on, people tend to understand that their behavior is foolish, illogical, and hurting other people.

Monday knows that betraying other people, hurting their trust and faith in their relationships, and entering relationships when she understands her history is bad. It makes her a bad person.

Niko knows that their habits are actively hurting their chances at finding worth.

That "Lone Wolf" understands, deep down, that no single person can handle the high expectations and emotions.

They know it because they can see it. Many times. Monday can see that characters in movies who have their relationship history tend to be casted as the antagonist. Niko can hear the gossip. That "Lone Wolf" can see the way that their loved ones cracked under the pressure and guilt.

So why do they do it? It feeds into their idea of the world. It feeds into what they want to be perceived as. It feeds into their stagnancy.

If Monday can ignore how they hurt others, then they can live under the Martyr label for the rest of their life without having to come to term with the fact that this isn't selflessness, it's called being pathetic.

If Niko can ignore how deep that hurt goes, then they never have to actually make the effort to change. To take that potential and make themselves into something. To be responsible.

If "Lone Wolf" can ignore how nobody can meet their expectations without crumbling down, then they use everyone's failure to feed into their cynical, self-hating notion of how nobody's trustworthy. How they don't have the responsibility of being considerate.

[incorrectbatfam]

In 2024, I ruined everyone's year with this post talking about the batfam's ages if they were living in the same year as us. Well, get ready to have 2025 ruined too.

Depending on how old you see Damian, he could be anywhere from 9 (like in WFA) to 15 (like in the mainline comics). I'm gonna go in the middle and say he's around 12. That means he is a Gen Alpha iPad baby born in 2013, the same year we saw Catching Fire and the Doge puppy.

NOTE: in my previous post, Damian was 10 years old and born in 2014, but I've since amended it since his age is depicted as all over the place. If you want to go with 10-year-old Damian today, he would've been born in 2015, the same year Undertale came out.

If we assume Duke is around 16, then that means he is the youngest Gen Z batfam member born in 2009, the same age as songs like Boom Boom Pow and Party In The USA.

Since Tim will always be 17 against his will, in 2025 it means he would've been born in 2008, the same year Obama was elected and Breaking Bad first aired.

Steph is a little older than Tim, so let's say she's 18. That means she was born in 2007, so along with obvious stuff like the iPhone, she would be as old as Bully Maguire and Rickrolling.

Harper is a little older than Steph but they went to college together at one point, so I'll pin her age at around 21. That means she was born in 2004, when Shrek 2 was the movie of the year.

Cass and Jason were born just months apart and are written to be in their early 20s, and I used 23 in the last post so I'll do that here. That means they were born in 2002, making them the first post-9/11 batkids and the same age as the book Eragon.

Dick and Barbara are both approximately 27, so they would've been born in 1998, the same year Destiny's Child, Coldplay, and System of a Down made their first debuts.

Helena (and I think Bette too, not sure) is a little older than both Dick and Barbara, so I'm gonna put her down as around 28. That makes her the oldest Gen Z batfamily member born in 1997, the same year as the movie Titanic.

Luke is somewhere between Helena and Kate but I can't find any specifics, so I'm going with 30. That means he is the youngest millennial batfam born in 1995, when Internet Explorer and the USB were first released.

Kate is approximately a decade younger than Bruce, making her around 35. In 2025, that means she would've been born in 1990, when Home Alone was released and Yugoslavia began to break up.

Selina's age is a little iffy because different sources give different age gaps between her and Bruce, but she's younger than him and older than Kate, so I'll go with 40. Being born in 1985 means she's currently the same age as celebrities like Bruno Mars and Lana Del Rey.

Bruce is around 45, so being born in 1980 means he is the very last of Gen X and as old as The Empire Strikes Back. It also means he would've been in middle school when Nirvana went mainstream in 1991 with Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Alfred's age is ambiguously old, but I used 75 in my last post. That means he would've been the only Baby Boomer batfam born in 1950, the same year that the TV remote and credit card were invented. He would've enlisted in 1968, at the start of the Troubles.

[shitpostingsapphic]

You know a character is overhated when people have to make up shit that didn't happen on order to justify that hatred.

"Caitlyn gassed the whole city of Zaun" wrong. She uses the grey as a weapon to incapacitate the chembarons in their hideouts, specifically. The montage SHOWS us this. She does this in a strike team she creates as a means to avoid an all out invasion led by the Noxian forces, which would have meant the deaths of several innocents. Even if the grey might have spread minutely to affect civilians, the chances are slim, and the grey is nothing more than factory smaug. Objectively, a handful of civilians breathing factory smaug for a brief amount of time is worlds better than numerous innocent people dying. Even in her rage, Caitlyn knows mercy.

And I guess these same people falsely overstating Caitlyn's actions don't want to talk about Jinx using gas bombs indiscriminately on the entirety of Piltover, intentionally harming innocent civilians. Or that her fishbones blast ALSO killed innocents.

No, I guess we only want to talk about the intentional harming of innocent people if it's Caitlyn doing it, and you have to outright lie about her intentions and the severity of which she acts in order to do so.

And the thing is, when you do shit like this, it makes it impossible to talk about other characters, like Jinx, their faults, their good and bad, without then making others assume that their character deserves hate the way you hate Caitlyn. I love Jinx. She's a fantastically written character. But I call out her actions and the way she harms others and you assume I'm calling her a bad character undeserving of an audience's love, right? The way you are with Caitlyn?

Arcane is supposed to be a show where we're able to discuss the spectrum of morality. And it's actually done phenomenally well, but people like you want to look at things in a very black and white way. You're looking at it on a class based system. If someone is from Piltover, no good deeds they do can be considered if they do something bad. If they're from Zaun, every evil thing they do must be defended in some way. Because privilege and oppression are the ultimate markers of good and evil to you. There's no complexity to be had there for you. People of privilege can't feel pain. Oppressed people can't cause pain.

It's narrow minded.

I love Arcane because we CAN discuss this complexity that exists. And I guess it makes sense why you hate season 2, because it made it impossible for you to stay with your narrow minded way of thinking.

[muletia]

𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader 18+ content, minors don't interact!

summary: orion hasn't seen you for a long time (2 days) and desperation clouds his common sense. when he visits you at home and drops by the garage he shows you how much he has missed you

cw: gentle!dom!reader, sub!orion, established relationship, fingering, handjob, praise kink, overstimulation, orion cums untouched several times (that's hot), L-bomb, reader is teasing the fuck out of him, this is probably the most self-indulgent thing i have ever written

word count: 2670

my first time writing transformers smut. this isn't really canon to my orion 'storyline', just wanted to get this out of my system because i love making characters submissive and breedable :))

"Orion?" you call from behind, and he jumps in place, his helm striking the ceiling of your garage. Even when mass displaced, the small space of you garage was a challenge for him. "How long have you been sitting here?"

You step inside and close the door behind you, setting your backpack and a shopping bag to the side.

He grows flustered, seeming to shrink before your eyes. He hunches slightly, trying to make himself appear even smaller like he was ashamed of something. Sitting back on his calves, his hands are perfectly placed on his thighs.

"I simply... I truly wanted to see you. It has been a long time. I missed you."

Your sharp gaze shifts downward, and Orion wishes he could bury his head in the ground. You were always perceptive — a quality he deeply admired. But now, he would give much to have you overlook just this one detail.

"I think I can tell how much," you say with a warm smile, despite the awkwardness of the situation.

It hasn’t even been three minutes since you reunited, and he is already proving just how deeply he missed you. Droplets of cyan fluid, strikingly similar in color to energon, were slowly seeping through the seams of his interface panel, betraying the intensity of the spectacle unfolding within.

"Do not... look." He whimpers, trying to shield you from the mortifying display.

"Hey, hey, it's all right," you reassure him, seeing the panic written across his faceplate. "Orion, love, I am not going to judge you. I just... didn't expect that you, too, felt... desire. What a delightful surprise."

It feels as though the temperature in your garage has risen a few degrees. You weren’t disgusted, nor were you disappointed. And you called him... "love." That pet name wasn’t unfamiliar to him; you’d used it a few times before. But in this context, it hit differently—deeper, more shamelessly.

His spike pressed painfully against the confines of its cage, but Orion had to remain patient. He couldn’t risk frightening you, couldn’t destroy the atmosphere that had been so delicately built. Under no circumstances could your smile shift into revulsion. He faced a monumental challenge, as the simple utterance of "love" had nearly caused him to overload.

"Forgive me; this sight must be... disgraceful to you."

Oh, how frightened, how shy, skittish he was. You already knew you couldn’t be too direct with him, couldn’t afford to tease or play games. This time, you would have to slow down, and match his pace— no matter how much you wanted to see what lay hidden beneath that panel.

"Not at all," you reply, shaking your head. "Hey, I could help you if you’d like."

His answer comes after a pause.

"I am certain you must be fatigued after work," he improvises, not ready yet. He needs time to accept for himself that only your touch can bring him relief. "I would not wish for you to exert yourself on my account."

You raise an eyebrow because you’ve never heard a bigger bullshit in your life.

"So what, you just want to watch a movie together?"

He attempts a smile, trying to show that this option is perfectly agreeable. If not for the accumulating transfluid pooling around and beneath him, it would be hard to tell he was aroused. This game of restraint demanded immense self-control, but he was willing to suppress his desires for your comfort. He would rather die than make you feel uneasy because of him.

"Of course, I would be delighted."

All right, so much for the promise of not teasing him. You couldn’t bear to see him in this state; ignoring the problem would only frustrate both of you, especially him. You might not be entirely familiar with his anatomy, but in this instance, you assumed that keeping an erection (quite literally) locked away must be excruciatingly uncomfortable—especially for someone so openly expressive with his feelings and needs.

"Okay, but before I grab the laptop… can I kiss you?"

His optics widen.

"Pardon?"

"Can I kiss you?" you repeat, watching with satisfaction as his weak bluff crumbles. "It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. I want to show you how much I’ve missed you."

He doesn’t ask why now, why not immediately after you greeted him. His focus is solely on the fact that you’re about to touch him, likely in multiple places at once. Your soft lips would be on him, showing him affection, bringing you closer together. He begins fidgeting with his digits, terrified of the overwhelming influence you have over him and how little you need to do to leave him feverish. Yet at the same time, he has no objections—he can’t refuse you.

He feels like he’s about to explode.

"Yes… you may. I beg you."

"Wonderful!"

Orion leans forward slowly to make it easier for you, but you still place your hand on his audial. And he fucking yelps. He squirms restlessly, unsure of what to do with his body. You overstimulate him, tugging at every possible sense, playing with him, teasing him—and there is no doubt that you are doing it intentionally. Yet he doesn’t pull away anymore; he doesn’t try to hide.

"I missed you too, you know?" you whisper, and he smiles. "It’s nice that you came by."

You move in for the kiss slowly, lulling him into thinking you’ll play his game. You see his optics flutter closed, his excitement mounting, and his lips—such as they are—pursed ever so slightly in anticipation. He needs this, but you’re not going to give him that satisfaction. Not yet. You want to hear him ask for it, to be absolutely certain he consents.

You give him a quick peck on the cheek and pull your hand away, though you stay close to his faceplate. You don’t hide your smile when he opens his optics again, looking utterly crestfallen. You almost feel bad for teasing him during such an innocent act—almost. That is, until you hear the muffled sound of dripping. Under other circumstances, you might have laughed.

"[Name]?" he asks desperately, alarmed by your retreat.

"So… I’ll get the laptop. What movie do you want to watch?"

Now he looks terrified. His servo shoots out to grab your wrist before he can even form a proper argument. There’s no time for that—you can’t leave him now. And as if strength alone wasn’t enough, he starts pleading. Panicked, hysterical.

"No, please! Don’t go, I beg you!"

"What? I thought we were watching a movie?"

"Ah… Stay… please."

A simple, innocent touch, and he was already losing his mind. It was difficult for him to form constructive, clear thoughts when you were so close. All his senses were focused on you. If you were to leave him now, Orion could literally die. He needed you, he longed for you. Only now did he release your wrist.

“If you have not changed your mind… I would like to ask for your help.”

You smile; you had been waiting for these words. You send him another quick kiss, watching with a reassuring sense of pride as such a large being shifts uneasily, trying to stifle the moans escaping in soft whimpers. You caress his cheek, and Orion instinctively leans into your hand, shifting his legs. Your touch drove him wild, yet he could not pull away, could not sever the connection. Completely at your mercy. A mortal playing with a god. A god humbled before a human. An addictive state, empowering but also terrifying, easily taking control.

Not today, not now — you reprimand yourself.

“Of course, love.”

“Ah!” he whimpers and closes his eyes. His digits claw at his thighs as he struggles to find a purpose for his hands. He overloaded. From a single pet name.

Orion gasps heavily, as if he truly needed oxygen to survive. It was not hard for you to guess what had just happened.

“Well, you are welcome.” You stroke his cheek, wanting to gain his full attention. His large cyan optics turn towards you. They are filled with love and joy, but they are also dimmed, not as sharp as usual; desire has overwhelmed common sense. This was not the end yet. “Hey, are you okay?” you ask, just to be sure. You needed to know what was going on inside him.

“Yes…” he pants. “But please… I want more… I need more.”

He could not take it any longer. He was about to truly explode. With a quiet hiss, he pulls back his interface panel, and cool air surrounds his battered and tormented bits. More hidden transfluid spills onto the floor, with some slowly trickling down his thighs. It was a pitiful sight, but Orion no longer felt shame; he simply did not have the strength. When your eyes look down, curious about the sound, he can only manage a quiet moan, for everything had become real at that moment.

“Wow, you guys have two? Cool.” You smile, as if you felt no shame at all. “Next time, we will try with pegging.” You wink at him.

“What is this ‘pegging’?”

“You’ll find out next time.” You respond dismissively. “May I… touch you?”

The response comes instantly.

“Yes, please.” he squeaks.

Slowly, you touch the tip of his spike, wanting to get familiar with its texture, to see how much it resembles a human one. Its hardness does not surprise you, as it was made of living metal. It also does not surprise you that he begins to shudder, and a few drops of transfluid, a vivid blue, trickle from the tip. The same happens at the back; his valve glistens with desire, covered by a layer of the same fluid. Curious about the consistency, you spread it on your finger. It is thick and sticky, resembling honey but more liquid.

“Ah!” Orion moans loudly. An exquisite sound from such a deep, low baritone. “[Name], I am about to… ah, I am going to overload!”

“Hold on for a moment, alright? Will you do that for me, baby? I would like to make you feel good.”

He already felt incredible, even without the touch, but he would be a fool to deny himself this pleasure. He wanted you to touch him, to overwhelm his senses even more, leaving him with no escape.

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?” you press, this time for your own satisfaction.

“I am not going to… mph…” you circle your finger around his tip, teasing him, testing if he can endure. Oh, how cruel you were today. “I promise, I am not going to overload.”

“Good mech.”

A few more drops escape. Orion is so close; a pet name or a compliment separates him from bliss. But he wants to be good for you, to show his worth and that he can obey. Your disappointment is the last thing he wants to experience. So, he patiently waits for your move, which comes instantly.

You smear the transfluid on your hand, as it is the only lubricant you have, and wrap your hand around his spike, or at least try to, as it turns out that the gigantic robot also has quite an impressive dick. Every move from you is accompanied by a pitiful, loud moan sung by Orion. His helplessness cannot be matched by the concert of sounds he makes when you start sliding your hand down the length of his spike.

He cannot hold on. It is too much, definitely too much. At first, you maintain a steady rhythm, playing with him and his needs, observing. Your gaze also excites him because there is not an ounce of shame in it. It is the complete opposite of his, as his optics cannot focus on one thing. He wants to peek, to see how your hand moves, how beautifully it fits around his spike. How compatible you are. But he cannot, for his processor is on fire. He can only focus on pleasure, on you. The softness of your body, the texture that his spike has never felt before. The only thing he can manage to produce are deviant moans. And it seems you can read his mind, as you ask him a question that demands an answer.

“How do you feel, baby?”

You are cruel, but he physically cannot be angry at you. So, he tries to please you, to remain obedient, even though thinking is beyond his grasp at this point. The inside of his helm has turned to mush.

“Hah, s-splendid,” he stutters.

You click your tongue teasingly, unsettling him, as he does not know this human expression of emotion. But before he can be concerned by it, you tighten your grip, as if you want to crush him, and all he can do is yelp.

“Agh, [Name]!” he whimpers your name, not knowing what he did to deserve such treatment.

“Only splendid?” you ask, now drawing slow circles with your thumb around his tip.

“N-no!” he tries to protest, but complex words cannot leave his voice box. “No! Hah…”

“Hmmm, I think we need to change that, don’t we? I can’t let you feel only splendid.”

The confusion lasts only a moment as you lean closer, drinking in his drunken, love-drained expression. When your other hand reaches his valve and you press two fingers into the overheated, surprisingly soft metal, Orion can no longer think of anything. He tilts his helm back and lets out such a raw, loud moan that it could be heard by everyone within three kilometers.

Now, you are working with both hands. One hand works on his spike, the other pumps your fingers into his valve. Shallowly, even too shallowly for his taste, but it is enough for him to reach the stars. To experience what true pleasure is.

He wants to climax, he needs it, he cannot take it any longer. He feels as if he is burning alive, his vents working loudly and rapidly, trying to keep up with the ecstasy. His digits scratch at the floor, making visible grooves. Completely overstimulated, but chasing the pleasure, he grinds down on your fingers. Deeper, harder, faster.

He does not need to say anything; you understand perfectly. You increase the pace, adding another finger.

“I hope this is better than splendid now.”

“Mhmm, ah! It is!” he stutters.

His spike begins to tremble, and his valve tightens around your fingers. That is your signal to evacuate, it is time for the fireworks.

“Would you like to climax, darling?”

“Yes! Please, ah! I beg you…” he whimpers.

One last movement, one final push from you. You torment him for a moment longer, only to end his suffering.

“Then come, since you performed so well. Love you.”

You withdraw your fingers and leave his spike alone, watching as Orion climaxes so powerfully that his transfluid lands on the ceiling. He moans your name, panting heavily, completely drained of energy but still full of adoration. Still thinking only of you.

“Orion? Baby, are you alright?” you ask, abandoning the teasing tone. You’ll save that for another time.

He blinks rapidly, returning to the present. His optics focus on you, and he musters a weak smile before leaning forward, compelling you to hold his helm in your arms. He nestles against your chest, taking a moment to recover. He never gets enough of being close to you.

“Orion?” you ask again. The urge to pet him is overwhelming, but your hands are still coated in transfluid.

“I am alright,” he murmurs and tilts his helm back for a moment to look at you. He smiles, and he is so beautiful that you momentarily go blind. And in his optics, there is so much love, so much gratitude reserved only for you, that you forget about the world around you. Especially the neighbors who will surely confront you tomorrow about disturbing the night’s peace.

[mylittleredgirl]

buckle up folks, it's deep dive about chakotay hours!

season 2, "initiations"

@isthereintruthnobeauty1968 asked a question about chakotay in this post about the scene above:

for an infamous leader of an anti-federation rebel group he seems to firmly believe in its authority and ideals And to have (at least externally) adjusted to the blended crew seamlessly. what's the deal?

see, i don't think chakotay ever wanted to be a rebel, or even a leader for that matter.

he wanted to be a starfleet officer.

season 2, "tattoo"

chakotay enrolls in the acadamy as a teenager as young as he legally can ("tattoo"). he tells seven ("one small step") that he joined starfleet because of his love of paleontology, and he only turned away from that out of responsibility to the maquis and now to voyager.

[get a snack for this one y'all]

season 6, "one small step"

it doesn't come up often, but whenever chakotay talks about his pre-voyager starfleet career, it's always about first contact or archaeology. in "emanations," he compares their exploration of an alien burial moon to a mission he went on as an ensign, all while demonstrating his anthropology expertise. add that to him nerding out in "blink of an eye," "one small step," the dinosaur episode, and a bunch of other examples, he's a social scientist both by training and by inclination.

in the original star trek, they had an "A&A officer," a specialist in archaeology, anthropology, and ancient civilizations:

tos season 2, "who mourns for adonais?"

we never hear that term again, but that's the role chakotay often fills on voyager, and he's very happy whenever he gets to do it.

now, realistically, i don't know how much time pre-maquis chakotay would have spent in a blue uniform, because those skills would not make him an obvious choice to lead a maquis cell. ro laren sets up his character (unnamed) in tng as a tactical specialist who resigns to join the maquis:

tng season 7, "preemptive strike"

(which is a very polite and noble way to do it, as compared to eddington's defection in ds9.)

if he was in fact ro’s teacher (i think so, despite a stardate conflict in some later dialogue), it seems very in-character to me that chakotay could have started out pursuing a sciences path before showing an aptitude for piloting, strategy, and/or command. given what we know of him, regardless of his own passions or preferences, if a senior officer noticed his skills and encouraged him to change career tracks, he would do it.

teen angst era aside, he respects authority. he argues against dogmatic ideology when it's inflexible to the needs of the moment, but he likes working within a command hierarchy, and for better or worse, he is easily swayed by charismatic leaders.

season 1, "caretaker"

not only does he yield to janeway's authority on voyager before she even asks him to, and then molds himself into the kind of first officer he thinks will help her most, he does the same thing with annorax in "year of hell." tom is the voice of ethical conscience and reason in that episode, and he organizes the rebellion—against chakotay's orders!

there's so much going on here:

season 4, "year of hell part 2"

despite his father's perceptions of him as a contrarian, chakotay only rebels as a last resort. he would genuinely rather not. he clearly talked about the maquis cause with ro and others before he left—and i bet that's why he resigned to a starfleet admiral in person, to make one last appeal. his preference is to try and change systems from within.

not to west wing about it, but chakotay is only The Guy when he has to be—he wants to be the guy the guy counts on.

(hot take: with how he rationalizes the calculated sacrifices annorax is making in "year of hell," i don't think chakotay would have left starfleet for the maquis if it wasn't personal. but it was personal, so here we are!)

maquis chakotay is a disillusioned idealist, but he's never that disillusioned. he believes in the stated ideals of the federation, sometimes more than janeway does.

season 3, "scorpion part 1"

and it's a fundamental character trait that he looks for the best in people and situations, often to his own detriment (tuvok, seska, annorax, that time janeway and tuvok and tom all lie to him for half a season, the list goes on).

and it's easy to see good in starfleet, especially when most of his career was during the height of federation utopia before "the best of both worlds," at which point starfleet remembered it's also a defensive force and started building the defiant—which was the very first starfleet ship ever designed solely for combat.

the cardassian situation in tng is shown as an aberration in a largely peaceful era. the off-screen "border wars" were fought by officers who expected to go their entire careers never firing a phaser.

tng season 4, "the wounded"

for decades since making peace with the klingons, and with the romulans keeping to themselves, starfleet has been mostly goodhearted nerds who are committed to exploring and making friends. even if chakotay was a tactical officer, that was the starfleet he signed up for and served.

and, in fact, the reason why the federation abandoned the colonists in the dmz in the first place and wouldn’t help bajor during the cardassian occupation is because the federation and starfleet are devoted to the ideals of peace and noninterference to a fault.

tng season 5, "ensign ro"

chakotay doesn't object to starfleet's actions, but its inaction.

which, side note, is why janeway's choice in "caretaker" makes it easy for him to rally behind her. by choosing to protect the ocampa, even though it's a huge sacrifice and puts her in a prime directive gray area, janeway specifically addressed the exact trust gap he has with starfleet.

season 1, "caretaker"

that's what he wanted them to do back home!

chakotay defends his starfleet uniform in the kazon scene that inspired this whole essay, and he believes what he's saying, because he's right: that's not what a starfleet uniform represents, either in theory or in practice. especially in the mid-24th century, regardless of the political issues, the federation and starfleet do not conquer planets or enslave alien cultures by force.

(of course, they wouldn't have helped the kazon free themselves either, but that's not the question on the table.)

to op's main question: it's an interesting (or boring?) doylist choice to make chakotay such a platonic ideal of a Starfleet Officer™️ (which, for the record, has always included going off-leash at the expense of one's career whenever ethics overwhelm regulations).

season 1, "prime factors"

star trek went to a lot of trouble to create the maquis for the voyager premise of two crews... and then quickly brady-bunch'd them into one happy family and let deep space nine wrangle the maquis problem instead. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

chakotay being so willing to put himself and his crew into starfleet uniforms (even though some members of both crews objected to it) cheated us out of some potentially rich drama, but it does hold water with what we see of him as a character on screen, and his relationship with starfleet. it has disappointed him, but he still believes that it's a force for good, and chakotay will always err on the side of seeing the good in something and thinking he can change it for the better from within.

--

tl;dr: chakotay is a starfleet officer by training and at heart, who was temporarily out of uniform because his family and tribe happened to be directly in the middle of starfleet's messiest ethical quagmire.

he made a personal, moral decision to join the maquis, not because he was anti-federation, but because that was the only way to protect federation civilians—which was part of his starfleet oath to begin with. he worked hard when he was younger to earn this uniform and i think, in spite of everything, he feels honestly proud to get to wear it again.

[traegorn]

Girl you can rant and rave all day but we all know for a fact you can't vote your way out of this mess so your "genuinely, what else can we do?" sounds like pure cucked defeatism. This downward spiral of American fascism has proven stable, so no, voting isn't going to stop it. The democrats will never be pushed left - as proven by blatant history. I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Voting isn't going to solve any of this, and no voting isn't going to "clear the way" or make it easier to resist. Democrats have proven over and over and over again they will use the full force of violence to stop anything that truly threatens them and the ONLY WAY to stop American fascism is to threaten them, to threaten the very foundations of the system itself.

You exert all this effort, have all this pained frustration, over the weakest political action you can take. You are not challenging fascism or tyranny or helping any of the people harmed under bipartisan violence. You ignore these people and focus on "harm reduction" for the few who do benefit from the pitiful social safety nets democrats eke out only to be undermined in the next four or eight years as republicans INEVITABLY take back power. Such is the case of a two party system, as history proves. You're staving off the inevitable by exerting all this energy into electoralism, and the people you "save" by electing democrats are inevitably hurt anyways when republicans INEVITABLY take back power - because that's what the system guarantees.

You exist in a cycle of abuse with the American government, a punishment-reward system under the 2 parties that keeps you afraid of punishment and too desperate for reward that you ignore how the hand that feeds you is also putting kids in cages and blowing up babies overseas. You, and everyone who thinks like you, will never be the ones to save anybody.

Idk I was pissed and now got all sad again after writing this. Just so you know my being sad at the state of your ideology isn't a representation of my passivity that people like you like to construe - I am painfully politically active. But it's just...sick. You're stuck in an abusive cult and now I just feel bad for you

I'm usually a lot nicer when I reply to folks, but you brought a certain energy that deserves a different response. I want to be clear to any passersby who I'd normally be polite to in this kind of conversation: This energy is reserved only for chucklefucks who bring this kind of shit to me. Please do not take this as a reflection as to how I'd treat people willing to engage honestly and civilly with me. This anon came to me unprovoked, so they're getting a rather unique response.

So here we go.

Oi, shit head. This was the stupidest thing I've read all day.

Democrats 100% have moved left in the last 40 years. Are we still recovering from when they got dragged right by Reagan in the 80s? Yes. But we've made headway getting things back on track. You claim a lot of stuff here, but don't cite a single example. Likely because you just repeat what someone else told you on TikTok that one time. You couldn't find your way through actual theory if it smacked you in the face with its dick. But you don't want me to actually justify it.

Because your own words told me you'd dismiss any evidence I provided:

I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Bitch, this shit is a sliding scale. Trump authorized more drone strikes than Obama did in eight years. Are they bad? Yes. But if you're telling me you want more murders, Trump's your guy. Guess what, living in America means dealing with the fact that you've been complicit in genocide this whole time. Look at the land you stand on -- it is soaked in blood. Look at the smart phone you're reading this on, it literally came out of a genocide.

You bathe in blood every day, fucking figure it out.

We do our best to minimize harm. And if you'd ACTUALLY read or watched anything I've said, your two half dead braincells would have noticed the part where I constantly say "voting is not the end of your activism." It's the fucking start.

Either Harris or Trump will be the next President. Trump will be worse. If you aren't doing everything you can to stop him, you're not a leftist, you're a grandstanding piece of shit who doesn't care about anything other than the smell of your own farts.

You want to fuck up the two parties? Great. Put in the fucking work -- because the Presidential election ain't it, shithead. Build a real movement from the ground up. Build community, build a party system, run local candidates. When's the last time your ass went to a city council meeting or a school board meeting? Do you even know when they're held where you live?

But let's face it, you couldn't coalition build if you tried because you're so far up your own ass you kiss your small intestine goodnight.

Daddy Revolution ain't coming, shithead. There's work to do, so get your head out of your ass and do it.

You want Trump to win? Netanyahu would kiss you on the lips for it. Fuck off.

[sikayeto]

I Own U

☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱

[ simon "ghost" riley x reader ]

[tw: suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, accidental narcotic overdose, dub-con]

[summary: you owe ghost, technically.]

☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱

You’re not depressed. You wouldn’t call what you have, depression. Sometimes afflicted with a melancholy so strong that you become catatonic. That’s called catatonia. Not depression. You’re not suicidal either. No matter what the base shrinks try to imply. Suicidal means that there’s intent to commit suicide. That there’s a plan to harm yourself. And yeah, jaywalking into busy traffic seems really nice once in a while, but that’s hardly a plan. Just because you crave a sweet treat doesn’t mean you go get one. 

But every now and again, you do get a treat. Maybe it was a really hard day, and the bakery is on the way home. Or somebody brought treats to share at the office. Perhaps a coupon finds itself in your email.

A burlap sack over your head, kidnapped by enemy combatants, isn’t what you would constitute as a treat. 

Hands are tied behind your back with rope. Scratchy fibers rub against the skin of your wrists. You don’t know where you are, or where they’re taking you. Dragging you by the armpits, your senses are dulled. Pulsation reverberating in your eardrums. Blood rushes through your limbs, leaving a tingling sensation. The amygdala has taken command, and not a single legible thought runs through your brain. All energy and control is being redirected to try and survive. 

A blunt force and ache bloom in synchronization on your knees, as you’re pushed down on them. Bright, white light invades your vision, and you squint in an attempt to adjust. The last person you thought you would see in front of you, is Ghost.

Unlike yourself, he’s sat on a chair, his own wrists tied behind his back. There’s shoddily wrapped gauze around his right forearm and abdomen. A dark shadow slowly creeps to engulf each count of thread in contact. The lieutenant’s eyes are haggard and unfocused. As they focus on you, they widen and his pupils become pinpoint. Realization strikes him as the bag was removed from your head. You don’t know him outside his position, but somehow, he knows you. 

A cold metal is pressed to your temple, and a chill shoots through your nervous system. You didn’t need to look to know there’s a gun against your head. 

“Talk, or they die”, the voice’s origins didn’t matter. Whoever was pointing the gun at you didn’t matter. If you played this right. Everything was going to be okay.

The lieutenant’s gaze on you is unwavering. His stare is uncomfortable. You're a nobody in the chain of command. Why the hell is he looking at you like that?

There are 2 hostiles in the cellar you and Ghost are being held captive in. Both are armed. No doubt they’re high-strung considering the guest they’re currently hosting. Despite his current state, it doesn’t diminish the feeling of danger that wafts off him. Just because the tiger is caged, doesn’t make him any less dangerous. 

Regardless of the beast barely restrained, your last minute plan can still come to fruition. It’s unlikely that they have another base analyst kept hostage at this location. Grabbing you was risky enough. So you're their only leverage. These men were desperate, and desperate men make mistakes. Whatever information they want from Ghost, they have to get it before he loses consciousness, or bleeds out. Neither of them look to be in good enough shape themselves to have seen a medic. The amateur bandages on your superior officer look rough at best. This wasn’t a prolonged stay then. Ghost must know that too. 

Okay, this looks like the last bus stop. Really, you’re the only one who pushed the stop button and needs to get off. 

You fling your whole body and weight to the person holding the gun to your head. Small you may be, physics is on your side, as he wasn’t prepared to retaliate against your sudden exertion. A shot is taken, and misses. Ringing overcomes your ears. The lack of expectation as he was body slammed, means that your target couldn’t soften his fall. The back of his skull audibly cracks as it impacts with the concrete floor. Blood pools from the fount of the vessels that crowd his occipital. 

Simultaneously, as you took action, Ghost moves his enormous frame with wretched oppression towards the other hostile. Chair and all. Wood flies all over the surrounding area. Ghost breaks free of his restraints, and for a man who’s been shot twice, he moves as if it never happened at all. There’s a wet squelch that repeats in the same rhythm as your heartbeat. Flesh and bone, pounding upon flesh and bone. Fury, wrath, and rage concentrated into one man’s fist and colliding into another man’s face. Asteroids and celestial bodies crashing into each other. 

A moment passes, and the only thing you can hear besides the ringing, is Ghost’s panting. You make an observation of your current situation. 2 hostiles down. 1 friendly injured. You’re still alive. 

Mission failed.

From your prone position on the ground, you attempt to sit yourself up. A sharp, stabbing pain pulses through your left ribs. You press a hand against the area and pull away to reveal blood. Your blood.

He didn’t miss after all. 

The adrenaline is wearing off. You can tell because suddenly your whole body is engulfed in agony. 

The ringing is the only thing you can hear now. You think you hear someone yelling your name, but it’s muffled. Darkness creeps into your vision, an oncoming fog. Eyelids flutter shut.

You get off at the last bus stop.

___

The months following your subsequent kidnapping and near fatal death were, strange, to say the least. After waking at the base med bay, The doctor debriefed you on what happened after you had passed out from blood loss. The Lieutenant had radio’d for immediate med-evac. They said it was a miracle that you survived, having lost far too much blood. You should’ve been dead by the time the medics got to you. But Ghost had kept enough pressure on your gunshot wound to further prevent your precious life from slipping out of your body. 

Yeah fucking right, a miracle. It would’ve been a miracle, if you had actually managed to die that day. Now, you were suffering with a hole in your thoracic and a chance of getting addicted to opioids. 

When you were deemed stable and out of the woods, they put you back on desk duty. No rest for the wicked, especially not in the military. Fellow analysts give you pitying looks and their well-wishes, but none of them actually want to help. That’s the nature of the job, you can’t blame them. But in a community where, even if you get shot, no one helps. It’s a wonder more of the analysts aren’t suicidal. 

3rd week post op, you wake up with excruciating throbbing in your wound. Taking more than the recommended daily dose of opioid analgesics, before you make your way to your station. The pain is dulled, but the side effects of the oral morphine you just took are hitting hard. Bones like fragile glass. Muscles that can barely twitch. Vision that starts to blur as your eyes glass over, staring at the ineligible words on your computer screen. It’s getting more difficult to take deep breaths, your chest is too heavy. Lay your head down on your desk. No one will blame you if you take a nap.

Your short slumber is interrupted by the shaking of the foundation beneath you. An earthquake? Raising your head slightly to figure out what’s going on, you see it’s not a natural disaster, but a man made one. Ghost, is stomping his way over to you. 

Any other day, he would’ve looked absolutely terrifying. But today, you were hopped up on morphine, providing you the sweet sweet bliss of pain relief. Also, effective for pain in the ass Lieutenants who foil suicide plans. 

He stands over you, full of imposition and menace. Giant of a man, used to getting what he wants by showing off the privilege and brute force of his stature. Mustering all your strength, you open an eyelid to look up at him. Your singular glass eye, meets his set of an endless abyss. He gives you a once over, and there’s a look of recognition. It’s pity. He’s pitying you. 

Blood rushes from your head, as your whole being is lifted into Ghost’s arm’s, bridal style. You squint at him in confusion, unable to complete any words of incredulity, much less sentences. He leaves the space the same way he entered. Imposing presence and thundering boot steps. Now, with cargo. 

He brings you to, what you assume, are his quarters. Places you on his bed, and tucks the covers over you. Tobacco and gunpowder flood your nose. It fills your lungs, and infiltrates all your senses. Your mind drifts, and imagines standing in a battlefield, smoking a cigarette. Engulfed and sinking into the mattress. Surrendering to the warmth and comfort. 

Ghost kicks off his boots, and strips down to a shirt and pants. He joins you under his covers, and mirrors your fetal position, facing you. 

Your memories of what happened, during these moments, are fuzzy. The extra dose of morphine you took, peaked at this time. Nothing felt real. Not you, lying in Ghost’s bed. Not Ghost, lying next to you. And certainly, not the one-sided conversation Ghost has with you. 

“You were bloody reckless,” he murmurs, “Think I didn’t recognize the look in your eyes?”

He places a hand on your throat, and his other pressed to your wound. His eyes burrow into your half asleep consciousness. This is just a dream to you. And in this dream, Ghost squeezes your throat and wound with prejudice.

“You don’t want your life, that’s fine.” 

Maybe this isn’t Ghost after all. Maybe this is a figment of your imagination, and the reaper chose to take this form. The last person you see, delivering your soul to the afterlife. If there even is one. You would discover it soon enough. There’s no reason for Ghost to rationally be acting this way. So maybe this is the fever dream that people have before they die. Maybe you are overdosing on the morphine you took. 

He lightens the force against your body. 

“I’ll have it then. As far as I’m concerned, if you don’t want it, then it’s mine.” 

He releases the places where his threat was once imminent, and wraps his arms around you. Pulling you to be smothered by his own large chest, your head under his chin. As the dark fibers of his shirt enter your vision, so leaves your will to be awake. 

tbc

[fairuzfan]

The decision to pause deliveries to the north of the Gaza Strip has not been taken lightly, as we know it means the situation there will deteriorate further and more people risk dying of hunger.  WFP is deeply committed to urgently reaching desperate people across Gaza but the safety and security to deliver critical food aid - and for the people receiving it - must be ensured. Deliveries resumed on Sunday after a three-week suspension following the strike on an UNRWA truck and due to the absence of a functioning humanitarian notification system. The plan was to send 10 trucks of food for seven straight days, to help stem the tide of hunger and desperation and to begin building trust in communities that there would be enough food for all.  On Sunday, as WFP started the route towards Gaza City, the convoy was surrounded by crowds of hungry people close to the Wadi Gaza checkpoint. First fending off multiple attempts by people trying to climb aboard our trucks, then facing gunfire once we entered Gaza City, our team was able to distribute a small quantity of the food along the way. On Monday, the second convoy’s journey north faced complete chaos and violence due to the collapse of civil order. Several trucks were looted between Khan Younes and Deir al Balah and a truck driver was beaten. The remaining flour was spontaneously distributed off the trucks in Gaza city, amidst high tension and explosive anger. In December, the Integrated Phase Classification report compiled by 15 agencies including WFP warned of the risk of famine in northern Gaza by May unless conditions there improved decisively. At the end of January, after delivering food to the north, we reported on the rapid deterioration of conditions. In these past two days our teams witnessed unprecedented levels of desperation.  The latest reports confirm Gaza’s precipitous slide into hunger and disease. Food and safe water have become incredibly scarce and diseases are rife, compromising women and children’s nutrition and immunity and resulting in a surge of acute malnutrition. People are already dying from hunger-related causes.  A report issued Monday by UNICEF and WFP, based on recent data, finds that the situation is particularly extreme in the Northern Gaza Strip. Nutrition screenings conducted at shelters and health centres in the north found that 15.6 per cent - or 1 in 6 children under 2 years of age - are acutely malnourished. WFP will seek ways to resume deliveries in a responsible manner as soon as possible. A large-scale expansion of the flow of assistance to northern Gaza is urgently needed to avoid disaster. To achieve this, WFP needs significantly higher volumes of food coming into the Gaza strip from multiple routes, additionally, crossing points to the north of Gaza must open. A functioning humanitarian notification system and a stable communication network are needed. And security, for our staff and partners as well as for the people we serve, must be facilitated. Gaza is hanging by a thread and WFP must be enabled to reverse the path towards famine for thousands of desperately hungry people. 

I cannot believe this.

[opal-owl-flight]

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO SPLOON3 AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO NEO3!!!

(On the phone screen being shown to Neo3 is likely a leaked Grizzco document about how all the eggs had gone missing)

There is no way the platoon wont pull all the stops to make the day happy for their favorite salmon-raised shithead. Doesnt matter that they havent had proper sleep for the last 2 days.More deets below regarding the feat….

For years, things have been simmering below the surface of Grizzco. Upstarts in the ranks, dissatisfied workers, *vengeful* inkfish, salmonid sympathizers who infiltrated the system to find out how to help, much like the platoon.

Crack teams. Strike forces. secret unions.

There isnt a BIG number of them, and none of them really worked together like a well-oiled machine, but they all had the goal of tearing this damn corporation/mafia apart.

For a variety of reasons, really. For poor conditions or pay. For the deaths of their coworkers. To investigate the big runs in hopes of stopping more in the future. To steal the eggs and return them to sea.

The platoon pokes here and there, and does their own share of this backbreaking work. The second everyone got paid... these groups opened the floodgates. Theres a lot of em, grizzco cant get em all. (And the activities cant be tracked back to the platoon, unlike other times like the Cap4 saga.)

Nobody knew they were working alongside the legendary NSS.

----------

A pal of mine puts it best...

Imagine knowing your partner, sibling, best friend died and finding out it wasn't just them dying defending the places... they died cause some corporate fuck orchestrated the whole series of big runs.

And in the future, these groups catch wind of what the NSS knows. That the big runs were all Grizzco made. This drives most of the shills into a frenzy. Most of all the high-value volunteers who were only there for the grand run but was trapped by the corporation.

---------

Come a whole 24 hours after the grand run, Grizzco starts panicking.

because only 700 million eggs remained in their stores.

Thats what Neo3 gets for her birthday -- the fact that all the extra eggs were returned to the sea. It rejuvenates her to fight for the future, now that there IS a future to fight for.

More raids continued after, 3 putting her squarely in that leadership position for the NSS's strike force (now including 7 and the crew from the Cap4 arc!)

Eventually, only 500 mil remained. And then grizzco goes on lockdown and....well, lets just say they made some people disappear. None from the platoon's strike force, thankfully. Most were grizzco's own shills, up in the higher ranks. Blamed for the loss of the eggs *and* for not making the number back.

-----------

I wont say tgere werent any casualties on the upstarts, though. Some were caught and are in serious danger from the mafia, though none fell under the jurisdiction of the NSS. The fact is, the NSS wasnt aware of a lot of these cases due to how fractured all the upstarts are. (It allows the movement as a whole to not be immediately shut down after a few get caught, or something. So they say.)

(bonus pic without the caption!)

[avelera]

following up on my last ask about misconceptions, what is something in each viktor and jayce that you find very interesting/apparent that you think people shouldn’t overlook? or rather, something you wished people talked about/acknowledged more?

(i love reading your analyses/rants lol)

Thank you! I think overall for me it's Viktor's kindness and Jayce's competence which are both really almost superhuman and often overlooked.

1 ) For Viktor, I think his kindness is actually really interesting! So often, scientist characters are written as misanthropic and even cruel. I think that's why Viktor is often tarred with that brush.

But actually, Viktor is pretty scrupulously polite. For example, even while he disappoints and dismisses Sky, he's not rude or cruel about it, he's just focused on what he's doing. The meanest he arguably is to Jayce is when he quips that Jayce might be egotistical for signing his notes (implying that Jayce believes that what is in there is sooo valuable and important that he wants it to be attributed to him), but it is clearly teasing and once Jayce talks about how beautiful magic is, Viktor never teases him like that again.

Viktor is even incapable of framing an invention that could save his very much at-risk life as anything but a way to help others. He's so incapable of bringing harm to others or wishing ill on them that he struggles to ask for help and is ashamed of the idea that he could dedicate valuable cycles of their ingenuity to anything but making the world a better place, something he believes in passionately. He loathes the idea of suffering and the senseless waste of conflict. Once he has otherworldly power, he seeks out those most in need and tries to heal them, then works to establish a community of safety where everyone is welcome.

Honestly, one reason I push back so hard on cruel takes on Viktor, especially takes where he strikes people (like with his cane) or where he directs personal insults at Jayce is because he is not shown to be like that very tired scientist trope. He's arguably the kindest, most pacifistic character in the show. He reacts with anger at just the idea of scientific progress being turned towards weapons to hurt others but even when at his most enraged, he never raises his voice and he never makes attacks personal, he always focuses on the substances of the argument and keeps his discussions intellectual, even when he's deeply hurt or scared or angry himself. He's a fascinating character for this reason and it feels like a disservice to ignore this.

2 ) For Jayce, I think his competence is often overlooked. He's frequently thrown into situations that are far outside his experience but, all things considered, he succeeds far more often than he fails in a way that is almost superhuman. If anything, I feel like people should be more annoyed with him for how naturally good he is at things than how he sometimes makes mistakes!

- Jayce isn't a politician, but he does manage to broker a peace, tackle systemic corruption, and head off a potential civil war (to the best of his abilities before it all goes to shit for reasons largely outside his control) within weeks of getting the job. He has an absolutely meteoric career for the little time he spends there and the very little preparation he had. He also executes a coup against the founder of the city that is successful within weeks of getting there and regardless of how you feel about him deposing Heimerdinger just to save Viktor, that is pretty impressive lol that he managed to get a unanimous vote on it from people that just a week or so before were ready to sabotage him for his aforementioned crusade against corruption.

- Jayce invented Hextech. Viktor is the innovator and he pushes its boundaries, but Jayce is still the one who invented it from scratch (or rather, from one acceleration rune) with a dream and a box of scraps.

- Jayce (with Viktor) invented the Hexgates and championed them. He would have changed multiple industries with that move. Like, him getting canonized as the Man of Progress isn't crazy, something like the Hexgates would change the world even in our world with all its technology.

- Jayce isn't a fighter but he holds his own against Shimmer berserkers, some of the most fearsome fighters in Arcane, pretty much by just being physically gifted and knowing the abilities of his hammer very well since we didn't see him train with it or anything. On this count it's almost infuriating how lucky/good he is as something at which he has little or no practice, compared to say Vi's lifelong fighting ability. Jayce is able to watch others and pick up cues quickly.

The fact he killed a child is a tragic accident but, there he also learns quickly, realizing faster than others, even arguably Vi, where his own morals stand and taking that unwavering stance that he will do everything in his power to avoid civilian casualties from that point on. (Many people get mad at him for making weapons for Cait but, I would argue, we have no evidence that she hurt civilians outside the Chem Barons' organizations AND her strike team helped avoid a larger invasion, which would align with Jayce's goals after the death of Renni's son). Honestly, all the child-killing Jayce memes annoy the fuck out of me because of how impactful it was on him and how hard he worked from that point on to make sure it never happened again. No one gives Viktor the same shit about killing Sky even though they were similarly accidents.

Basically, Jayce is super good at almost everything he touches. He reason he's seen as less competent is because he goes outside his field of expertise more than I'd say ANY other character does in the show and even then, after some initial flailing, he gains mastery in an astonishingly short time. Jayce is actually a mental and physical genius and I think that gets overlooked a lot in fanworks that make him out to be some incompetent puppy.

[teecupangel]

(sorry in advance, I've been stewing over this for so long that this will be a long one xd)

I was re-reading your fics on ao3 again (sue me, im starved for desmond time travel content) and whilst reading Eagle of Alamut's description i realised '...wait a damn minute, it is true! all of Desmond's knowledge on past is from his ancestors!' (not everyone is as big of a nerd as shaun). Cue weeks of relentless daydreaming over Desmond in Reneisance Italy trying his damnest to lay low... but: 1) he does not know what is socially acceptable at the time (clothe and behaviour wise)

2) the animus likely shielded it's users from the more... er.. unsaviory historical accuracy (child marriage, smell, violence and mistreatment towards the poor, women, disabled)

3) politics, culinary arts, medicine and money value from that era are not common knowledge (or even fully known to todays historians)

4) Ezio was not known for his subtility...

...so while desmond may know who to strike in order to protect Ezios family from getting executed, what places he may know to avoid if he wants to avoid attention from the italian brotherhood.

He does not know what he was getting himself in to when he decided to travel back in time.

I can just imagine him thinking that he can finally retire and live his life, but then BOOM here comes the shock of sociatal injustices! religious violence! inequality! horrendous mistreatment of beggars and disabled people! and as a good man raised in the 21st century he obviously can't, in his right conciousness, just turn his back on these issues, on these people.

So here he is, in Rome of all places, doing his best to atleast stay hidden from the Auditore's, and consequesntly, the Italian brotherhood's, detection, as he stalks the bright rooftops of Roma as histories (probably) very first assasin turned vigiliante!

I can just picture him at one point or another, getting mistaken for a Spanish assasin and his only attempt at 'confirming' (read: encouraging misleading rumours), is to use the very little languistic knowledge the American education system has bestowed upon him. cue him very awkwardly trying to immitate a Spanish accent/ speak in Spanish. or just, you know, say the only words every student knows, 'Feliz Navidad'.

It would be so funny if Desmond’s Spanish are based on:

1) what little remains of Ezio’s Spanish (maybe on par or even worse than his French)

2) Basic Spanish that he learned on the Farm

3) Spanish songs he heard

So people think that Desmond is eccentric.

And Rich.

Because Desmond wants to help people but he doesn’t want to be seen as an Assassin so…

He becomes a supposed rich Spanish (Arabic would have sent a red flag to the Brotherhood) noble who came to Rome to live a life away from his ‘family’.

Why is he ‘rich’?

Well, killing nobles and other ‘evil doers’ will flag the Brotherhood as well so it would be better to just…

Leave certain incriminating evidence in the doors of their enemies and let them duke it out. Hey, if some things go missing while they’re too busy with their enemies, that’s just collateral damage.

Also…

Sometimes, things go missing when some people get into accidents.

It’s easy to buy the impoverish area in Rome. It’s a bit challenging to get doctors to treat them.

Until Desmond flashed the right amount of money, of course.

Desmond manages to stay under the radar by being part of the upper echelon.

An eccentric foreigner who helps the poor and sick out of the goodness of his heart.

Or… because he apparently believes that the way to heaven is through good will and not… paying the clergy.

Desmond knows that being seen as completely good is a bad thing as well so he lets rumors spread that he’s an opportunist who heals the sick and protects the weak to receive their loyalty. He gives them salary to become his guards (not that he needs any) and people whisper how loyal the poor are to someone who gives them bread.

And to hammer in that “no, Ezio, I am absolutely not connected to the Templars BUT I’m also not going to be a good ally, just leave me alone!” plan he has, he becomes a patron of the art.

Sexually progressive art.

The church hates him but tolerates him because Desmond does ‘donate’ (jokes on them, he donates what he stole from the church) and the artists love him because he commissions stuff with the same thing over and over again “whatever you want to paint/sculpt/work on but I want the Borgia men getting fucked in the ass while Lucrezia Borgia watches”

He’s not rich enough to actually be a threat (especially after Ezio starts wrecking shit up) and he keeps to himself most of the time.

But, of course, life always has it out for Desmond and he comes face to face with a wounded recruit at the edge of his property and…

Well…

He only wanted to heal him then send him on his merry way.

He didn’t expect Ezio to come barging in thinking said recruit has been kidnapped by the eccentric ‘possibly sexual deviant’ Lord Miles.