#i see now that the answer is just that i have to make a decision for myself. ugh i hate doing that.

[jungwnies]

wreckage - charles leclerc (2/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : after a devastating crash, you’re left to face the hardest decisions of your life as charles fights for his.

୨ৎ : genre : emotional fiction, very... very... emotional ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1448

part one | part two | part three | part four

They say you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have. But that doesn’t stop the crushing reality from setting in, from stealing the breath out of your lungs and leaving you with nothing but a pit in your stomach.

The adrenaline’s worn off now. The chaos of the crash—the sound of metal twisting, the screeching tires, the moment when everything went still—has settled into a steady, numbing dread. The pit in your stomach isn’t just from fear, it’s from the void where your thoughts should be. You don’t know what’s coming next. You’re not even sure if you’re prepared for it.

Charles isn’t here.

Charles isn’t in the room with you.

You glance at your phone again, eyes scanning for any update, any piece of news that tells you he’s okay. There’s nothing. Just the same cold silence. You dial his team again, and again, and again. But no one answers. His car was mangled—wrecked beyond recognition, but the worst part? The worst part is that no one can give you any real answers. No one can tell you if he’ll come back to you, or if that’s a question you should stop asking.

You feel like you're caught in a never-ending loop, the crash replaying over and over in your mind. Every time you hear his name on the news, every time you see another mention of the race, it stabs you like a fresh wound.

“Is there any word?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, though you’ve asked the question a hundred times already.

One of the nurses glances at you, but it’s not the answer you need. They’re all running on autopilot, no one daring to face the gravity of what’s happening.

A few hours later, you get the call. It’s brief, clinical, distant. They’re transferring him to the hospital for further tests, and you need to come now. You don’t even bother with a response. You just grab your coat, your purse, and run.

When you get to the hospital, you’re not prepared for what you’re about to see. You’ve spent all this time worrying about him, and now that you’re here, you don’t know how to be ready for the reality.

They rush you through sterile hallways, and the air feels thick, suffocating. The nurses are too quiet, too busy to offer reassurance. You don’t need their words. You need him.

The surgery’s been a blur. A series of technical terms, each more frightening than the last. Internal injuries. Organ failure. The adrenaline that was keeping him stable starts to wear off. Everything’s urgent, but no one tells you what’s going to happen. No one tells you that he might not make it through.

His mother arrives as you’re sitting in the waiting area, your fingers anxiously twisting the hem of your sleeve. She doesn’t need to say anything. You can see it in her eyes. She’s feeling the same crushing weight of uncertainty that you are. You stand, not knowing what to say, not knowing if there’s anything to say.

“How is he?” she asks, her voice cracking before the words are even out.

“They’re still working on him,” you answer, though you don’t know much. You don’t know anything. “They said it’s critical. I... I don’t know if he’s going to make it through.”

Her face falls, and she takes a deep breath. You want to say something, anything to reassure her, but you can’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore. The fear inside of you keeps growing, pressing against your ribs like a weight you can’t lift.

The door to the surgery room opens, and the doctor steps out. His face is pale, his expression tight.

“Is he...?” you ask, your voice trembling before the question even forms. You can’t bring yourself to finish it.

“He’s stable for now, but his condition is still critical,” the doctor explains. “We’re doing everything we can, but the next few hours are going to be crucial. The adrenaline kept his body from fully going into shock. It’s buying us time, but there’s a chance that time won’t be enough.”

You feel the ground slip away beneath you as his words sink in. “What does that mean? Is he going to be okay?”

“We’ll know more in a few hours, but we’re monitoring his organs. There’s significant internal damage.” He pauses, searching for something to say. Something comforting. “He’s a fighter. We’ll keep doing everything we can.”

You nod, though the words don’t mean anything to you. Fighters don’t always win. You know that. The only thing you can do is wait. But it feels like the waiting is the hardest part.

His mother looks at you, her eyes pleading, her lips trembling. “What do we do now?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You’re not prepared to make these decisions. You’re his wife, but you never thought you’d be here, making these life-or-death calls. This isn’t supposed to be your responsibility. You want to ask his mother what to do, but you can’t. She doesn’t have the answers. She’s just as lost as you are.

“I don’t know,” you whisper back, feeling the weight of it all settling on your shoulders.

She looks at you with a deep sadness in her eyes. “You’re his wife. It’s your decision now.”

Those words hit you like a punch to the gut. You’re supposed to know. You’re supposed to know what he’d want, what the right choice is. But you don’t. How can you possibly know what to do when everything feels so out of control?

You want to run, want to disappear, but you can’t. Charles is still fighting. He’s still here, and that’s all you have. You can’t walk away from that.

As the hours drag on, you’re taken to see him. The room is sterile, cold. It’s not the hospital room you imagined. It’s nothing like that. It’s a place of quiet chaos, where everything hangs in the balance.

Charles is unconscious, tubes and wires running everywhere. His skin is pale, his face bruised. The doctors said he was conscious for a moment, but he’s out again, too weak to keep his eyes open.

You sit by his side, taking his hand gently, trying to feel his warmth through the coldness of the hospital room. You whisper his name, but there’s no response.

“He’s in there,” you tell yourself. You have to believe that. You can’t let go. Not yet.

Minutes pass, and still, nothing. His pulse steady on the monitor, but that’s the only sign that he’s still here. The rest of it is just a waiting game. You’ve been here before, waiting for someone you love to wake up, to come back to you, but it’s never been like this.

It’s never been this uncertain, this terrifying.

Charles is still here, but you know that might not be the case for long. The waiting is unbearable. Every beep of the heart monitor is both a reminder that he’s still alive and a warning that it could change at any moment.

As the nurse enters to check on him, you hold his hand tighter, unwilling to let go, unwilling to believe that this could be it.

“How long?” you ask her, barely able to look at the machines, not sure you want to know.

“It’s hard to say,” she replies softly. “He’s stable, but his condition is still critical. If we don’t see improvement soon, we might need to make... more decisions.”

That word. Decisions. What decisions? You’re left with nothing but the silence, the uncertainty. The questions. The waiting.

As the hours stretch on, and the doctor makes his rounds again, you finally hear the words you’ve been dreading. “There’s no improvement. We might need to consider...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you hear what he means. The fear inside you rises, a growing lump in your throat. The worst-case scenario is beginning to feel more real with each passing second.

Everything is slipping away, and you don’t know how to hold on.

You sit in the chair, staring at Charles, your mind racing with fear and doubt. You want to hope, you want to pray, but it feels like hope is a fragile thing, easily crushed by the weight of reality. The fight’s not over yet, but you’re starting to wonder if it ever will be.

“I’m here,” you whisper again, to him, to yourself. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But somewhere deep inside, you know. You know that the decision you’re dreading might be just around the corner, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

taglist: @emryb , @htpssgavi , @aleatorio1234 , comment to be added

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[friedtyrantbasement]

Tough conversations and good distractions

M reader

Cast: Yizhuo, Aeri, Yooyeon (not mentioned often)

Tags: smut, top reader, cheating, angst, marrital issues, drama, multi part series

WC: 3.8k

This felt like a repeat of how your parents argued. Your tie feels tight around your neck, this is what you never wanted to feel at any point in your adult life.

Your marriage was going through a rough patch for a while. Like, a seriously long while.

Yizhuo and yourself had been together for almost a year now, and at the beginning of your marriage you felt like nothing could go wrong. Of course, the honeymoon period didn't last long.

It's not like you try your best to fix it either in all honesty. You work in a fast-paced corporate job and the last thing you need to come home to is your wife asking you incessantly about who you've been conversing with and other questions you feel like you answered a million times.

You don't like to lie but distractions were needed to help keep you in your right mind.

“Baby, for the last time. The only one I have my eyes on is you. I swear it.” You learned to give that speech almost every time she felt insecure. It was getting over used, you might need to paraphrase it soon.

On top of Yizhuo’s knack for insecure behaviour, you have to deal with her family's high expectations. You're the vice president of your older brother's company but that wasn't enough for your in-laws. They wanted you to start your own company, be risky but that just wasn't who you were. You're a laid back guy who enjoys doing his job and one hell of a good one at that and getting paid without making any huge decisions that could affect other people at large.

“God, I just don't understand why you can't talk to me! You act like I'm not here for you when I tell you that you can always talk to me.” You want to roll your eyes at her words. Yizhuo would look impeccable if it weren't for the fact that you thought she had gone deaf in one ear.

“No sweetheart, I said that I simply have nothing to talk about, not that I can't talk with you.” You say gripping the dinner table you're currently leaning back on as your wife sits on the couch away from you. Yizhuo had been pressing you for answers on why you were so quiet these days but you just weren't up for it.

She licks her lips, her tongue sliding over her plump bottom lip and squeezing her eyes tightly as she blinks, as if she was calming herself down.

“I just have been…. Hearing things.” She starts.

“What things, Yizhuo?” You say her name, which makes her shift in her seat. Now she's rubbing her hands as if she's going to hear heartbreaking news.

“I've heard… that you've been seeing another woman. Specifically, that new girl on your work team.” Oh lord. You want to rip your hair out. ‘Is she seriously accusing me of sleeping with a university intern that I haven't even met?’ Your thoughts laugh at the situation, it's hilarious at this point.

The person she should worry about is the one closest to her.

“Oh really? And who told you that? Your little spy Aeri? She barely knows left from right and how many times has she been wrong about shit like this? Huh? Drop it, Yizhuo. I'm serious.”

You were dead serious, tired and not in the mood to be playing bullshit with your wife this early in the morning right before work. “Fine! But I still don't get why you just can't say ‘No honey, I'm not cheating’. Why can't you just say that to me?” Yizhuo says, throwing her hands up in defeat as she gets up to head to your shared bedroom.

A sigh leaves your mouth. This has gotten ridiculous. “You know what? I don't think that no matter what I say or do you're ever going to believe me. That's why, Yizhuo. So I'm going to work now and I would recommend you to drop this nonsense before I get home.”

You don't even let her say something back. You grab your work bag, car keys and you're gone with the wind. Now you're in the worst possible mood ever, sorry to all of your coworkers today.

—

“What's up with the VP today? He's crashing out over a few small mistakes.” One of your coworkers whispered in the break room. “Isn't he married to that fine woman? What issues could he have?” Another one said, edged with slight envy.

“Probably just some troubles in paradise. It's their one year mark soon. Everything goes to shit after that, I would know.” A supervisor says, his voice quieting with the last part of his dialogue. As if it was scripted, the workers collectively release a sigh, remembering the way they used to formerly be with their partners.

Of course, there was always someone keeping an ear out for a good conversation—minus the collective sigh at the end—especially when it has to do with someone she's been keeping an eye out for.

You are half near losing your mind. The argument from this morning and now your team was making numerous mistakes regardless of how small they were. ‘Fuck, I need to smoke’ You think getting out of your chair that you'd been glued to for the past four hours. Besides, the air and the person waiting for you will clear your head.

You press the elevator button a few times and that small action makes you wonder just when you have become such an impatient person. You used to love a good wait time especially when you were about to do something you had promised yourself you would never do again. Fortunately, the elevator opens, inviting you to enter it and whisk yourself away from the stress of your life.

“Hold it, please!” You hear a feminine voice call out, her heels making a light jog towards the elevator which you hold your arm out, keeping it open. “Thank you so much. I wasn't ready to wait another 10 minutes for the elevators.” The black haired girl breathes out and you chuckle nodding your head at her.

“I hear it. I still can't believe they only have two elevators for a fifteen floor building.” You say, getting a better look at the woman who's in a neat pencil skirt and a button up shirt. “What's your name? Haven't seen you before.” You mention extending your hand to the woman.

She takes your hand shaking it. “The names Yooyeon. Don't bother introducing yourself, I think we'll end up seeing each other more often.” Just then the elevator opens cueing her leave. Yooyeon waves as she steps off the elevator. You watch her walk away. Your eyes are unnecessarily narrowing down on her ass as the elevator closes.

You breathe out a sigh, it has been a while since you had an easy going conversation with someone. You think for a split second just as you enter the rooftop. “Well well well, look who we have here.” You hear a sensual voice purr.

“Oh my, is that my wife's makeshift CIA investigator? Goodness, what do I owe the pleasure, Aeri.” You say sarcastically walking beside the woman, pulling out a cigarette to which Aeri lights it up for you. The woman dangerously close, you can smell her Chanel perfume as her eyelashes bat at you.

“Oh dear, have I ruffled your feathers on such a pleasant morning, sir?” She says, coyly placing her hand on the lapel of your suit. You remove her hand and breathe out your smoke onto her face. “Do you find yourself happy confusing my wife?” She fans the smoke away from her and smiles at you, if it were anyone else they would have misunderstood her smile as a genuine one.

“I enjoy it just as much as you like filling me up.” Her words make you clench your jaw. Your hand that does not have a cigarette lodged between two fingers grips her face. “Watch that mouth. You're much more careless than I thought.” Aeri only grips your blazer and throws your hand away from her face.

You breathe in smoke again, holding it in and then you blow it out. You know what's going to happen after this. You know you can't trust yourself with this woman, and she knows that just as well as you do. So you step out your cigarette and press your lips against hers. Aeri meets you with fervor and passion.

“You know you can't get enough.” She whispers haughtily, confident in herself. Unfortunately, you know she's right and so you burst out laughing to her confusion. Aeri almost gets the chance to ask you what's wrong with you but you kiss her again. Your tongue running over her lips, sucking on her bottom lip, and just like that Aeri feels like she's the only one in the world. Pressing chaste kisses all over her lips and then you slide your tongue into her mouth. You hear her release a moan, a pretty one at that. It rings in your ear, letting you grip the back of her neck pushing her as close as you possibly could.

It's an addiction, one that feels so good, one that you doubt you could stop. So you don't. You're driving Aeri to one of her father's numerous hotels to check in to so you can take your fingers out of her cunt and stick something else in.

“Fuck- drive faster, you piece of shit.” The name calling makes you scoff. “Didn't I tell you to watch your fucking mouth earlier?” You curl the pads of your fingers to hit her spot. Aeri's back arches, the back of her hand falling lightly over her mouth as she tears up. Finally, you achieve your desired silence minus the moans and ‘Fuck’ and ‘Mm right there’ ‘s coming from Aeri's mouth.

Unfortunately, you reach your destination all too quickly. You slide your fingers out of her sopping folds and she shoots you a glare but nevertheless gets out of the car, walking a few paces ahead of you. The receptionist is used to the two of you and your monthly rendezvous with the Chairman's daughter.

“Don't take so long, you know what we're here for and I’d rather not spend more time with you than I'd like to.” Aeri says, as you zip her black short dress down. You roll your eyes and push her onto the bed without much regard for her. You throw off your blazer and pull your tie off only to unbutton the first button. You crawl closer to her, you bury your face into her neck, pressing a hot kiss against her pale skin.

By the time you're done making love with her neck, your belt has been unbuckled and your pants are off. Aeri's fingers pull the waistband of your boxers down with some help of yourself. “Come on, put it in.” She whines into your ear, you aim your length at her entrance but don't do as the vixen wants.

“So fucking whiny for it, why don't you beg? Act a little cute for me, won't you? It's been so hard calming my wife down because of your evil whispers.” Aeri stiffens at the mention of Yizhuo. You can see her eyes flicker, you wonder if that's if she feels bad or if she doesn't like how much you're talking.

But the thought of reality doesn't last long before you feel Aeri press her dainty and magically gorgeous hand on your chest pushing you down onto your back. Aeri unbuttons the rest of your blouse at a torturously slow speed, which you would never admit turned you on a bit. She presses hot kisses down your torso starting at your jaw, so near to your lips and further down she went.

As a natural occurrence would have it she landed just where your lower stomach is. Her tongue flat against your stomach, giving it small kisses and kitten licks. You just wish she'd go a bit lower so you hold a hand to the back of her head and try to escort her way to your hard, pre cum leaking cock.

“You want me to suck on him? Act a little cute for me, won't you?” Referring to your cock as ‘him’ and the sarcastic repetition of your words. The two of you lock eyes for a moment before you feel the need to kiss her again. So you do as you desire but not before you get what you want.

You wrap a hand around your cock and push it closer to her lips. Aeri looks up at you and you tilt your head slightly with a pout on your lips, as your back rests against her head board. She gives in to your little show and wraps her lips around your tip, her tongue makes small circles around the head before letting more of your length slide into her mouth. You suck in a deep breath as you feel Aeri apply suction.

Your hand naturally returns to the back of her neck politely urging her to take more of your shaft. Aeri knows the desperation that you're displaying and she enjoys it but more than anything she enjoys seeing you crumble, that mask of being the all responsible, perfect family man and vice president just falls off under her touch.

Though this is something that she knows will never last forever, she gives in taking you into the back of her throat. She takes your cock whole, letting it hit the back of her throat and she lets her mouth head back to the tip. Aeri repeats this over and over. No regard for the way she’ll probably gag at having you so deep.

As if she wants to consume you whole, monopolise you, own you, the greed that she feels is most likely consuming herself but she delusions herself into thinking that she is not affected by the way your eyes are stuck onto hers.

Aeri can feel your hips twitch, as if you’re warning her unconsciously of your orgasm. Her tongue slides over your member, carefully paying attention to it in the most romantic way possible. The poised woman removes your cock from her warm mouth allowing your white hot to land on her face in untimed spurts. Your hand grabs some tissues on the bedside table of the bed to pass to your accomplice. To which she takes and carefully dabs her face, erasing any residue left.

Now you think for a moment, ‘She looks pretty.’ but you don't allow yourself to think any further, after all Aeri would tie a noose around your neck if she knew you had such thoughts, soft thoughts. You lay the woman down on her back, the rest of work would be on your part so you slide on a condom looking down at the woman under you.

“A man with no arms could move faster than you, don’t waste my time.” Aeri spits at you and you scoff at her words, lowering yourself and pressing your cock head against her wet entrance. Her back arches and her arms wrap around your neck as your cock enters her, filling every space in her cunt.

“Fuck, it’s been so long.” You groan as you bury your head into the crook of her neck, your hand slides under the back of her thigh caressing her softly as you fuck her. Aeri’s small swears and loud moans fill the hotel room along with your groans. Your hips rock back into her pelvis, and you can feel Aeri's small movements in an attempt to match your thrusts. You're stretching her out in ways she could never imagine. The tightness of her sopping pussy has you groaning out in awe.

Your eyes are stuck on the way Aeri's breasts move every time you fuck her. You throw her legs over your shoulders and get as close as humanly possible, your face perched between the woman's perfect boobs. Your mouth latches onto one of her nipples, sucking it, licking it, and giving it all your attention and focus. Aeri yelps and mewls, her luxurious sounds of pleasure leaking out of her pretty lips only encourages you to continue working her breasts. But you never forget to hit the deepest part of her pussy, you find yourself unable to stop giving the most concentrated strokes known to mankind.

“Go- god, keep going, you- fuck so perfect for me.” Aeri says as her hands manage to touch your face and bring you to focus on her face, that's contorted in the ecstasy that you bring her. Both of your lips find one another with some struggle of space, yet your tongue slides into her perfectly curated mouth and you spend time working her mouth. “You're the one who's so fucking perfect.” You praise her and you can tell she enjoys the words of affirmation after all, her cunt is tightening around you.

As if you would die if you did not seek pleasure from Aeri you continue to chase your high. Despite hers being long reached, Aeri can only let out gasps and whines asking you to give her a break. “I'll give you a break when you deserve one. I haven't even cum yet.” Your hips jerk again into her and her head falls back. The sounds of her moaning are rivaled by the sounds of your balls slapping harshly against her skin, additionally the wet sounds coming from her pussy. “You're acting like you don't enjoy this, you hear that? Those sounds are all yours. Don't get so fucking arrogant, you whore.” you spit out cruelly, and she responds with a sobbed out apology.

A small smile paints your lips, the feeling of pride swelling in your chest. Who else but you could bring the Chairman's daughter down a notch other than you? If the world was your oyster this is what you would be doing for the rest of your life. “That's what I thought. Don't forget your fucking place. And tell me where your place is?” You egg her on, you know Aeri knows the answer to this question. Her eyes look away from yours and she can only bite her lip. So you stop thrusting for a moment, which causes a whiny mewl to leave Aeri's lips.

“My place is..” she takes her time pronouncing the words. It only increases your satisfaction of watching the proud woman suddenly melt into a girl who only has her eyes on you. “...below you.” A smile slaps onto your face, your hand lands on her hair, caressing her so softly. You know she's waiting for her reward and it's your job to give her what she wants.

You bottom out in Aeri's cunt, filling her up, a cuss falls out of her mouth. Your hand goes under her thighs and pushes her knees beside her head. Your fucking her rough and murderously fast, she's practically screaming. Your cock is hitting a perfect spot, your teeth are gritting together. “This is what good girls get when they act good.” You say, your voice low and deep as Aeri reaches yet another earth shattering orgasm. Yours is on the way soon, with the way your balls are tightening. You slide out of her, you take off your condom, then you push yourself back in.

“No- wait, you can't. That's too-” Your hand falls over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up, I'm not cumming inside of you, dumb whore. I'm just feeling your insides a bit.” And to your expectations, it felt so good, you should've done this from the start. You're orgasming soon though so you slide out your cock again and let yourself finish on her tits and face.

Both of you are panting, completely out of breath. “What's with you today?” Aeri says, obviously annoyed with you, but you couldn't bother to care. “My wife and I have an interview to get to. I'll shower first.” You ignore her question and take a quick peek at your watch that is currently the only piece of clothing you have along with your ring. “Well, since you didn't read the list of interviewees. My father and I are also getting interviewed. We have no time.” You know what Aeri means and you smile.

She rolls her eyes and grabs you by the elbow and leads you to the washroom. Suddenly you feel like you have an extra 20 minutes to spare. So long as you get another blow from her. “Let's get each other clean, Uchinaga.”

—

“Do you know how much we're running late?!” You hear Yizhuo say from the second floor of your mansion. “Honey, we're fine. It's a 25 minute drive.” You were thankful that your limo at least had champagne in there to keep you company as your wife freaks out over the time.

Your eyes catch Yizhuo peeking down at you from the ledge of the stairs. Her face coloured in seriousness with her full lips pursed into an unhappy one. You lock eye contact with her and pull out one of your award winning smiles, the one that you'd use during the interview.

“Get off your phone, and tell the chauffeur to pull around.” Yizhuo's voice is elegant and perfect, and you know she means it. “Now, please.” Though it doesn't sound like Yizhuo is asking, rather she's demanding, and of course you comply. You go outside to see your chauffeur, an older gentleman with grey hair and a heartwarming aura.

“Pull around the limo, the one with alcohol. Thank you, Greg.” He nods at your words with a polite smile on his face, and he's off to get the car. You turn around to go grab your blazer and Yizhuo's fur coat off the couch.

“Sweetheart, thank you for getting my coat. You're perfect.” Yizhuo says, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as you open the door outside for her. “Anything for you, my beloved.” You say, holding the coat open for her to slip on easily, which she does. You throw on your black coat easily. Yizhuo's coat is black fur, befitting of her white cocktail dress.

“You look gorgeous, I'm almost hurt that someone else will see you looking this good.” You compliment, earning a smile and an elegant giggle from your wife. “And all of this will be yours when we get home. As long as you're on your best behaviour.” She says coyly, and you could practically feel your cock hardening under your pants.

You couldn't wait to get this over with, get home and collect your prize. Whether you would live up to deserve it… well we'll find out.

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER III

✷WARNINGS cursing, pining??? idk. mention of the nd game and h*annah h*dalgo

✷NIYAH SPEAKS aye we back! this one is just paiges pob

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

We lose to Notre Dame every year. 

Every. Fucking. Year. 

And now that I’m home in Storrs, looking at everyone as they try to mask their disappointment, I feel the loss even more. 

Which is why I’m walking around in the middle of night, the December air biting into my skin. I can’t stop thinking about everything that went wrong. Why everything went wrong. 

I honestly have no fucking clue why, but I know what went wrong. Everyone does. Our defense was lousy, our shots were horrible, we got too tired. I could go on, but that won’t fix anything. 

I find myself at Xavi and Janes house before I realize it. I tell myself that it’s because Yanna’s there, and not because of the wisdom that Xavia seems to have about every aspect of life. 

When Xavia opens the door wearing a smile and a moo moo, I ignore that bubly feeling in my chest and ask to come in. 

Once inside, I see her apartment is almost completely dark. The big lights are off, the living room being lit only by a candle and two lamps in opposite corners. 

“So, what’s up P?” Xavi asks, running her hands down the silk of her moo moo. “It’s almost midnight and you’re usually dead to the world by 9.”

Knowing that Xavia knows my bedtime makes me smile for reasons I don’t want to admit. 

When I first met her, Xavia was like a mystery. She was funny and smart and absolutely fucking beautiful. She’d apologized for making a false assumption about me. It was the first and only time anyone had ever done that and I never forgot it. 

When she and Jane started coming around more, I forced myself to swallow the want I had to learn more about her, to learn from her because I knew that if I’d gotten to the root of who she was, I’d be even more enthralled than I already was at that point. 

Eventually my heart stopped beating so fast around her. I’d stopped avoiding being within 3 feet of her and trained myself to treat her like I’d treated all my other friends. 

Because that’s what she is. My friend. 

It didn’t matter that her not worshipping ground I walked on excited me. It didn’t matter that almost every conversation we had alone rested in the back of my mind at all times. 

Xavia is my friend and that’s all she’d ever be. 

“Yeah I know. I just can’t get the ND game outta my head and I thought Yanna would be here to talk to.”

I’m lying and I know it. Whether Yanna was here or not, I would have found a way to talk to Xavi. I always did. Not because I wanted to be around her, but because she always had the answer to whatever problem that I have. Anyone would do the same if they’d stopped to pay attention when she was trying to get a word in. 

“Oh, yeah, she’s not here.” Xavi pointed a thumb to the back of her house, where Her and Jane’d bedroom’s were. Her locs swayed with the turn of her head. “Her and Jane went to Urgent Care cause she hit her shoulder on the wall and-” She waves her hands anxiously, as if she doesn’t feel like explaining a complex situation. “It was a whole thing. I’m sure you’ll hear about it tomorrow.”

I know I should be worried about my teammate who can’t seem to stay healthy. And I am. I make a mental note to check in on Yanna at some point, but right now, I’m thinking of a way I can stay and talk to Xavi without making it a thing.

“Oh…” is what I came up with. 

“You can talk to me?” Thank. God. “ If you want.”

Of course I fucking want. It’s all I’ve done for the past three years. 

I want to be a better person. 

I want to be 19 again and do everything differently. 

I want to win the championship this year. 

But all those wants are null and void for the biggest want of all. 

I want to get drafted to the WNBA.

And I’ve made  too many shitty decisions to get there to just throw it all away. So what if I’m miserable?

“Uh, yeah. That’s cool.” I play off my desperation and take a seat on her orange bean bag. 

Xavi plops down on the couch in front of me, crossing her legs and folding her hands. All her attention is on me and a part of me feels like I don’t deserve the attention of this amazing woman. But a bigger part is screaming that this is how it should be. 

Me, admiring every part of her, and her, willing and ready for anything I give her. 

Of course, in this situation all she wants is to know what’s on my mind, but I would give her whatever else she could think up. 

“So whatcha thinkin ‘bout?”  She asks sweetly. 

Her voice isn’t obnoxiously high. It’s kinda deep and mellow, just like she is.

“Um… I just can’t get over everything.” I shake my head and look at my hands. Hands that are supposed to get me everywhere I want in life.  “Like, I get why we lost. What we did wrong on the basketball front. But we were off the other day. We’d run those plays over and over again in practice. Studied film. We should have been prepared, but we were just off.  Like no matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t get there.”

Xavia nods her head like she understands everything I’m saying. 

“Like everything was against you guys?” she questions. 

“No. I don’t think that anything was unfair. I think that our all just wasn’t enough.”

“Well, I know you can’t speak for anyone else, and I’d never ask you to. But why do you think you were off that night?”

She sounds like a therapist. The kind that isn’t just trying to fix you, but trying to understand you. The kind that hangs on to every word, but not to hold it against you.

“I don’t know. I just kept getting madder and madder and it threw me off. I did everything I was supposed to do.”

She looks confused now. “What do you mean ‘supposed to do’?”

“Like everything I thought was right. Everything I've always done.”

“Maybe that’s the issue.” 

Now I’m confused. 

“What?”

Following my routine has taken me and my team to the Final Four, and for Xavi to tell me it’s wrong stings a little. 

“Maybe doing everything you’ve always done isn’t the answer. Paige, you’re a somewhat mature adult. Do you honestly think you’re right all the time?”

What does she mean ‘somewhat’ mature? 

“...No?”

“Right.” Xavi sounds so sure of herself, leaning in and starting to talk with her hands like she does when she’s talking about her coursework or something equally as interesting to her. “It’s impossible to be right in every situation because every situation is different. When you throughout your daily life, do you treat every person the same? Do you go into every conversation with the same mindset, expecting the same outcome?”

I mean most people are the same, so what else am I supposed to do?

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Well that’s no bueno, babe.” She huffs out, pointing at me. Then, she entrances me again with her hands as she speaks. “ Every human is different. They have different pasts, and different views. Even if the difference between one person and another is miniscule, it’s there. And that difference is why it’s so important that we don’t generalize people.”

I know she’s stopped talking but I’m so caught up in her voice, and her hands and her face, and her to contribute to the conversation.

“Are you understanding?” She asks, seemingly genuinely concern with whether I’m comprehending what she’s telling me. 

And the answer is no, I’m not understanding. Whether there’s a differenc eor not, each person want the same thing and should be dealt with the same, based on what they want. 

This is the code fucking live by,a nd she’s sitting her debunking it in the most intellectual, attractive way possible.

“Not really.”

“Okay so like…” She sighs, pauses to think and then continues. “Do you remember when we first met? When I assumed you were a whore like alot of college athletes are?”

The reminder of our first interaction brings a calmness to me. I remember everything abou that night in her dorm. She wore sweats with no bra, and I’m pretty sure she was stoned.

“Yeah of course. You apologized to me that night and it kinda weirded me out.”

“Right.” Xavia snapped her fingers, bringing me out of my memory. “I apologized to you, because I generalized you and made an assumption based on one aspect of your identity. And I think it weirded you out because you’d generalized every person who’d made an assumption about you. I guess it’s rare that people apologize after being an asshole to you.”

It was rare. So rare that she’s the only person who’d ever done it.

“Okay…”

“So. Incourpurating that into basketball. Every team is different.”

I nod my head to let her know I was following. “Of course.”

“Okay and so every player on every team is different too.”

She lost me.

“No.” Now I’m the one leaning forward, talking with my hands. “They all move as a team. Yes, they have differences, but they’re all working together.”

“I see it differently.” She shrugs like she’s the master of basketball and done copious amounts of research on the psyche of an athlet.  “I feel like every player on that court moves individually. Do they play for the same team, and have the same goal? Of course. But they’re all different. They all have different thoughts and concerns and ideas. You said that girl Hannah was the head of the snake, but I think you should see it differently.”

“How so?”

“Instead of thinking of a team as one snake, think of it like… Like cheetahs!”

“Cheetahs?”

“Cheetahs.” She finalizes. “Once the mama cheetah gives birth, she trains her cubs to survive in any situation. To adapt to any surroundings. She teaches her cubs how to kill different animals, to hide, all that. Eventually, the cubs form a sibling group and go out together to execute everything their mother has taught them. Are you getting the analogy?”

When she’s explaining it in laymans terms, of course I get it. She could probably explain thermodynamics to me and I’d understand it fully. Xavia just has a way of making everything in life seem so simple. It’s wonderful, really.

“Yeah. Like the coach is the mother, the players are the cubs.”

“Right. But each cub is different. There’s a more dominant one, there’s submissives and then theirs the runts. Each one has to edit their mothers lessons to make it useful to them individually. Does that make sense?”

I’ve decided that she’s blown my mind enough for tonight, once again by being right about everything. So I just chuckle and dismiss the topic.

“How do you come up with this shit, Xavi?”

She laughs like a seductress and leans back on the couch, “I dunno. I read alot.”

You read alot? Reading alot has given you the ability to break down a sport like you’ve played it your whole life?

“Well thank you for sharing your knowledge with my dumbass, oh wise one.”

I stand up from the beanbag and make my way to the door, ready to take my exit.

“I’m not wise, I just see from a different point of view than you. Sometimes you gotta get outta your head.”

“I guess.” I sigh, then open my arms. “Thanks, Xavi.” 

She steps into me, her head just below my chest and wraps her arms around me. Her body is warm, but the silk she’s wearing cold. She doesn’t hug me tight or aggressively. Just stands there with her arms around my waist. 

It feels terrifyingly comfortable. 

“Anytime P.” she mutters, pulling away and ushering me out of her home. 

The whole walk back, my mind is on her and everything she said. 

How is it that this girl that is the exact opposite of everything I’m looking for, seems to be everything I need?

✷TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld

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@sellasstories @heart4caitlin @avvwritesstufff @st4rrzynight @bueckersp @paxaz535 @thelightknight21 @paxaz535

[candyswirls]

For the requests - can I please ask for any Gadriel fluff/smut/comfort (any of these) with fem reader? Thank you!!!

I actually don’t write smut. I got this fluffy idea almost immediately. There’s not enough old women. This kinda took a path all its own.

He huffed as he paced impatiently within his room. What was the lieutenant hiding? Even now he was resting in his quarters after collapsing when they came in contact with those marks of chaos. It was too strange. Too suspicious. He-

“Gadriel,” rasped an old voice just outside the door.

He paused in his anger.

“I know you’re in there.”

He sighed, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to keep her out.

He opened his door, letting an old ad mech shuffle in with her cane. Blue lenses were dim and any bit of skin was wrinkled and leathery. Her legs squeaked.

He took a knee and assisted her getting up to sit on his bed. She stared forward, hand resting on her cane.

She patted his pauldron, “You’re still such a good boy.”

He didn’t move as she reached out and pinched a cheek.

“And still very handsome,” she added. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You know I never deny a visit from you,” the Sergeant said.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “How goes the fight?”

“We have achieved victories but we suffer the loss of our brothers,” Gadriel growled. “Lyreo and Elion… they are dead. And I wasn’t even with them.”

“You regret this decision?” She inquired. “Not like you to split up your squad.”

He scoffed, “It was not my decision. The captain has placed a lieutenant over my squad. He has my command.”

“You do not sound pleased,” she commented while rhythmically nodding. “Speak to me.”

Gadriel spoke freely, “He does things in strange ways. He is cut off and will not speak to us. I feel as though he is already disappointed with us. Condemning our actions before they have even happened! He shuts down my suggestions despite I having lead this squad before him!”

“It is always difficult to relay leadership to another,” she said. “You always found that difficult. You’ve always been ambitious. Hmm, but I sense this is not all?”

“His past is shrouded in mystery,” he exasperated. “He refuses to tell us anything. I question his motives and who he really is. He was part of the Deathwatch, a noble honor, but acts as if though it is a shame! He also collapsed upon coming across signs of the archenemy. Even now he rests in his room.”

“The captain will not listen to my concerns. He is dismissive. I know he cannot afford internal strife among the ranks and is more concerned with this war. Yet why place the Lieutenant over my squad? I have tried to consider what errors I have made to cause this decision but I am still at a loss!”

She placed a hand on his, signaling to him that it was his turn to listen.

She reached up and smoothed back some of his hair, cold metal brushing his skin.

“My poor Gadriel,” she hummed. “So many questions. So few answers. Perhaps this lieutenant is not here as a punishment to you but as a test. Maybe one from the captain. Maybe from the Omnissiah. Maybe just a simple case of clashing personalities. Do not dismiss your past accomplishments and drive.”

“But-“

“Ah, ah, ah,” she hushed. “You can’t fool me. Astartes pass all the time. Baselines even more. The passing of your squad mates is not your fault. Nor is it your lieutenant. There’s always the case of a better or different choice. We don’t always make them. This is war.”

Gadriel looked like he wanted to protest but chose not to. He wouldn’t dare argue with her solely out of respect.

“As for the suspicion,” she continued. “You are resourceful and academic. You know how to research. If others will not tell you, learn for yourself. There should be records on this Astartes. Reading to gain knowledge and learn of history is the best thing one can do for themselves.”

Gadriel nodded, “I know. You taught me that. I planned to go to the archives soon.”

“Good. I shan’t keep you long. We’ll both be headed the same direction. But I had to come see you though. I always know when one of my boys is upset.”

She cupped his cheek, “You fight hard, you follow your orders, remember the codex and what I taught you. But most of all, remember: you should enjoy fighting for the Omnissiah.”

He nodded and found himself resting his head on her lap.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “You always put me at ease. I am honored to have you as a mentor. I admit, I find physical affection embarrassing but I appreciate you speaking to me in the privacy of my room.”

She chuckled as she stroked his head, “Like I said Gadriel, I know you. Now come, help an old magos back to the archives. My shipment of new legs won’t be here for a bit and these ones are rusty.”

He helped her off the bed and offered his arm as he assisted her out.

[sulumuns-dootah]

26. 12. Asmodeus - Wrapped like a gift (18+)

     ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

⋆꙳·❅‧The Yule festival of Hell 2‧❆ ₊⋆

A/N: The ending eludes to Y/N without a dick, but can be read even if you have one (just squint your eyes at one point)

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

     ༺☆༻

The more you walk through the Abaddon castle towards Asmodeus' rooms, the more your intuition tells you that you shouldn't. There's something really unnerving about the message he's sent you:

'Y/N! Come get your Christmas gift! You'll find it on my bed ;)'

The winking emoji already had you slightly suspicious and then when all your texts inquiring about more info of the gift's nature went unanswered, the feeling of you being set up to meet your doom really set in.

By the time you reach the master bedroom door, your heart is anxiously trying to beat its way out through your ribcage.

As you're about to knock on the heavy door, a note attached to the handle by a ribbon catches your attention. The writing is in the most beautiful cursive – presumably Asmo's handwriting.

'No need to knock, just enter. I'm waiting ;)'

That emoji again. You really should turn around and call one of the other kings to come and get you out of here, but instead you take a deep breath and reach out for the handle, like the note instructed.

Slowly opening the tall door, you first see a dimly lit room full of lit candles. Stepping into the room, you see more and more of them until finally, your eyes land on the centerpiece of the whole fire hazard.

The master bed is adorned by many satin-covered pillows, which look like they're glowing in the candle flame light. And there, amidst all the glowing fabric and scattered red rose petals is Asmodeus.

He's naked, kneeling and fully restrained with his hands securely bound behind his back by ribbons. A whimper of proud obedience leaves his gagged mouth as your eyes scan his form from the top of his pitch black hair all the way down to the bow tied around the base of his very hard dick with the words 'Free use' above it in a similar fashion to Beelzebub's tattoos.

“A-asmo...?!” you exclaim in a surprise and the demon cockily smiles around the ball in his mouth while thrusting a few times into the air as if to entice you to take the opportunity to do anything with him.

You're not gonna lie, this display ignites something dangerous inside you and you yourself don't really know what might happen in the next few hours.

Only after taking a few steps towards the bed while shedding all the extra layers you're not going to need for the rest of your time here, you notice all the laid out pleasure and/or pain toys.

“Nnnghh...~!” Asmodeus impatiently whimpers with his eyes slightly rolling back, as if just your presence was enough to get him off.

You take a deep breath, partially to calm your nerves but to also stop so many ideas popping up at once.

Standing a the foot of the bed, you contemplate your first course of action with some soft humming. One part of you wants to tease him until he's unable to take it anymore and the other wants to overstimulate him.

Another impatient groan with more pathetic air thrusts interrupts your decision-making and without even thinking, you pick up the leather whip and land a few hits on one of the demon's inner thighs, “Shush... I'm still deciding.”

“Haa~!” the sudden pain makes Asmodeus moan out as his dick twitches a few times, clearly becoming desperate for any sort of stimulation. It doesn't escape you that so little was already enough for him to start producing precum, which was now lazily running down his entire length and dripping underneath him onto the satin sheet.

“I wonder... What would happen if I just left you like this... All needy for me, expecting me to pounce on you, but I don't...” you question, more as a thinking out loud since he can't really answer you much.

'Then you'd make the biggest mistake, I'll take great joy in reminding you of all the time.' a threat in a playful tone enters your mind, sounding as if Asmodeus whispered it right into your ear. Judging by the cocky smirk that's molded around the plastic ball in his mouth, it was the demon talking to you in your head. Does that also mean he can read your thoughts, then?

“Hm...” you look back down at the array of toys at your disposal. A feather duster, candle with ligther, leather whip, chain attachment for the choker he's wearing, paddle, dagger and...

Finally, your eyes land on the strap on with an attachment resembling Asmo's very own throbbing length next to a strip of black satin – presumably intended to be a blindfold. A low chuckle vibrates in your throat as a very fun way to enjoy your gift comes into your mind.

With a swift movement you snatch the cold fabric and walk around the bed to kneel behind the nicely presented demon. A shaky breath leaves his gagged lips as you tie the blindfold around his eyes, but to his disappointment, after that you're immediately getting off the bed again and walking off.

He can't see it anymore, but you're actually putting on the harness and attaching the rather disproportionate dick onto your body. On the way back to your original position the chain lead catches your eye and you take it with you.

Asmo hates to admit it to himself, but being someone else's bitch excites him as long as it's you. Still, not being able to see makes him feel on a very thrilling edge. His hearing is good, but the way you're too quiet while moving around his room is a bit unnerving to him.

The demon's head whips to the side when you get back onto the bed. With a gentle hand you guide his chin up so you can attach the chain's clasp.

By pulling on the chain, you pull Asmodeus backwards until his head is on your shoulder as you whisper right into his ear, while rubbing your borrowed dick against his ass, “Tell me, bitchboy... Has anybody else ever given you a good prostate orgasm?”

     ༺☆༻

But wait, this demon also has a gift for you!

"Ahahah, my pretty little bitch... There's yet so much for you to experience and I am more than happy to guide you through all these new things, huhu..."

[greywardenmonkey]

my point has gone over your head. one of this game's key points is to establish this team of nobodies who solas would never see coming that for some reason can match solas in wit(ironic when rook's whole running gag is Haha im the leader but man am i clumsy! i dont know much about anything but im in charge anyway! lets make being sarcastic my only personality trait!), only for solas to reveal to everybody that he knows exactly who they are and everything about them.

10 years has passed and solas is just now starting the ritual? why was he not strong enough to begin it immediately post-trespasser, especially since he has absorbed mythal's power and obviously is strong enough to turn an entire qunari squadron to stone while not even looking at them? and hes defeated by rook, whos defining quality is...they are better than solas because they...dont regret what theyve done? what have they even done that is worth regretting? when do their companions ever lose faith in them? where is the breaking point, ever?

"why is the inquisitor necessary" because the inquisitor is the one who says I will stop you! I will prove you dont have to destroy this world! Var lath vir suledin! We will find people he doesnt know! and then not only does the inquisitor take a total back seat to everything(unless you romanced solas and even then they are a total doormat), it turns out there isnt anyone out there that solas doesnt know. and also all his agents have disappeared for some reason? because not a single elf thinks tearing down the veil to restore their people is worth it? because all elves are a monolith of goodness and havent ever had rebels/slavers/angry people amongst them? sure.

it makes the most sense for the inquisitor to finish this because they were there when it started you answered your own question. solas obviously experiences a great deal of emotion when hes with them(antagonistic or otherwise) which would have been excellent to explore in terms of tripping him up. solas literally tells the inquisitor he WANTS them to prove him wrong. 10 years later and the person you used and hurt while also letting them see the part of you youve always wanted to be from the beginning has not stopped pursuing you to try and redeem you is not a story worth seeing to the end?

i know what veilguard did. considering its a dumb decision, i will elect to ignore it. hope this helps

"we need a team solas doesnt know about to defeat him" are you thick. solas is quite literally the most powerful mage on the planet right now with agents in every corner of thedas you think he doesnt know everything about everybody. using the inquisitor would have been the only right move because it would have been full scale emotional warfare

[lawofangie]

have you changed your old and set gpa / grades to a new one? i guess this would be along the lines of revision

also, for big exams or whatever that most people seem to have super hard times with even with studying the best they can like the mcat (medical entrance exam basically) how would you go about that? let’s say you didn’t want to do much prep for it, can you just assume you’re top percentile with the score you get back and if there’s inspired action you can get into that, or do you actually have to put in some level of work? this may have been worded badly LOL my apologies

i did! i believe my old one was a 3.0 or something like that and i manifested it being a 4.0! i'm currently a senior in highschool and the "hardest" thing i'm taking right now is physics. if i didn't assume my grades were always high and relied on the 3d to tell me how they were, i would probably be failing miserably right now.

personally, i hate studying and i always thought to myself about how i would much rather spend my time taking care of myself and improving my life somehow. i could be spending time with friends, my sp, family or trying new hobbies, going new places, traveling.. i've honestly always found school to be a waste of my time that i could be spending doing so many other things. i used to get so anxious and scared over school and put it on this pedestal like my future depended on it, when that wasn't true at all.

i had to realize that i was doing myself a disservice my pretending that these things somehow mattered more than my input, my wellbeing, and my say in matters. acting like anything depended on "top percentiles" or approvals is a way of distracting yourself from the fact that you are the one accepting this as true. you are the one deciding "if my grades don't look like this, i won't succeed", when in reality, your grades and scores are quite literally said to be a way of being prepared.

a lot of administrators actually don't know what standards schools are choosing by because even if you have the good grades and good exam scores, there's still that chance of you not being picked. this goes back to my point on reliance and how that's your conscious decision. also, leaving things up to "chance" or "luck" (a made up concept) is honestly stupid when you really think about it. you're choosing to let things decide themselves, but somehow you can't decide?

i've noticed that people often put trust in many irrelevant things, like gods, deities, stars, cards, palm readings, psychics, mediums, other people's inputs, etc. and i've realized that nobody ever puts trust in themselves for some reason. isn't that weird? it's fine when you put trust in the things you're not even sure where they originate, the validity, that you can't even see or be sure of.. but the one thing you can be sure of (yourself), is somehow untrustworthy?

it was for this reason that i realized that i need to get more comfortable with myself and deciding i have things without relying on some external factor to tell me that i do. it just doesn't make any sense and it doesn't even work. at the end of the day, your mind is going to sway one way, either you'll believe you succeed, or you didn't.

but anyways, what i'm saying is that being the top percentile is not at all necessary to reach your goals, because at the end of the day it is up to you and the way you feel about yourself, whether you realize it or not. you are the one deciding, even if you have good grades, where you are going to make it in life. you are the one deciding EVERYTHING about your life, your self image, your relationships, yourself, everything regarding you is up to you (obviously).

but, to answer your question properly, no. you do not need to put in any level of work. the law simply states to assume ("whatever you assume to be true will be true"), not to do anything else. everything takes care of itself the moment you simply decide it is true. inspired action is usually something done unconsciously, like for example, you want to manifest money. you decide you have $100. then as you randomly decide to clean your room, you look under your pillow and find $100. (this happened to me but i found it in my drawer lol).

inspired action and trying to force something to happen are two different things, again, one is done unconsciously and the other is done with the intent of hoping something happens. and what does hoping imply? it implies that you don't have it. if i said "i hope i have $100", i obviously don't have it. if i said "i have $100", then i very clearly have $100. you have to assume it in order for it to be true. and that means, you take your own word for it regardless of what you're being shown at this very moment. you have to decide that it already happened.

i'm sorry, i know this is the part that so many of you guys hate since you like being bossed around by other people, but this is how the law works. it's the only rule you've been provided with, and yet so many of you fail to follow it. an assumption is something you believed to be true without proof. the law requires you to believe something, we (coaches, bloggers, teachers, etc) are the ones telling you to believe something *positive*. the law itself is indifferent, you're free to believe whatever you want, good, bad or indifferent. nobody has control over your mind or thoughts but you.

and yes, it has to be you. not your friends, not your parents, not your teachers or professors, not your bosses, not the random strangers on the street, not the people you only meet once, you. because this is your reality. you're experiencing life as your own person with thoughts, feelings, opinions, goals, dreams, a functioning body (hopefully?), and your own eyes. it's yours, and yet so many of you struggle to realize that.

your manifestation is something that's supposed to happen naturally, it's supposed to find a way to grow into your world comfortably, like the example i just provided. (please don't take "find a way" out of context, i simply mean the "how" is not up to you. everything else is. the law of assumption is a law. it has to materialize, and it does, this is also not to say that it will necessarily be "unexpected" or "strange", you just won't know how it will unfold.)

putting in a level of work just comes from a place of doubt (or misinformation, but let's not talk about that right now). you doubt the fact that you can truly sit back and relax and have things work for you. it's a belief that will do absolutely nothing for you and not benefit you at all, though i'm sure a lot of you believe many things that don't benefit you, and you don't really seem to care.

and how would i go about applying all of this? i would simply decide that i have passing marks or that i got accepted into whatever school i wanted regardless of my grades. there is only one rule to manifestation, you can't break it, but you can bend it however you want as long as you assume. the only rule to the law is literally to just apply the law, so do whatever works for you.

if you just wanna feel good about your grades and feel even better getting accepted into a school, go ahead. if you're coming from a place of fear and feeling like you "need to manifest this or else", please take a step back and consider the fact that this is all up to you and i just told you it doesn't work that way. remember that you only feel this way because these standards have been drilled into your mind for years by the people around you. you've basically been conditioned to care about your grades and limit yourself to or only believing in getting going to school for a job.

we as people are the ones who give things we created significance and purpose. nothing is fundamentally real, it is all manmade, and so, you shouldn't be putting it on a pedestal. you are the only one keeping these standards alive in your head and keeping the assigned significance of these standards alive in your head. none of it really matters and we all know that deep down. we are all going to die one day and we literally live on a floating rock in the middle of fucking nowhere. please don't stress yourself out over stupid shit and live your life the way you want. just decide it's yours.

hope this helps! feel free to send me another ask if you still have questions. 🩶

[cxvii666]

WHY'S THIS DEALER? TAKING THE PISS!?

cw: extremely slowburn, 21st century love story, college au, genz romcom type beat, this iss part two, here's part one, smut in the next part if im feeling festive we'll see

it’s a few days later, and hanta’s still trying to wrap his head around how the hell denki pulled this off.

they're at the bus shelter down the road from mina's flat. it's almost identical to the one from a few days ago — same crack in the pavement, same slightly busted bench that feels just a little too hard, like it was made for someone much taller than either of them, same cigarette butts scattered around like confetti.

hanta sero 's squatting on floor, back resting against the plastic screen, rolling a cig. he's half paying attention to the weather (which, of course, is cold and wet and annoying), and half paying attention to denki. the guy is bouncing around, looking as annoyingly chipper as usual. as if everything isn’t one giant cluster of "what the fuck?"

“so,” denki grins his stupid little smile, and he says in a puff of kiwi guava passion-fruit, “i was thinking, why don’t we invite her to mina's party? she'd totally be down, right?”

hanta squints at him as he fishes through his hoodie for a lighter. “who?”

denki looks at him like he’s the idiot. “her, man. you know, her.” and he points vaguely toward the horizon, as if the answer is self-evident.

hanta raises an eyebrow, finally putting two and two together. “wait, you mean—oh, fuck off, you’re seriously gonna call her? right now?”

“oh, totally. she said she was free.” denki's already pulling out his phone, face glowing with that stupid confident smugness that he always seems to have, and an “i'm about to make this happen~" expression that hanta can’t stand. “trust me, she’ll come.”

hanta squints up at his friend. “you are not calling her right now, you know that, right?”

but it’s already too late, denki is cheesing, phone to ear shushing hanta as the ringing stops and the line clicks, he swaggers off behind the bus stop with a "hey baby, watchu up tonight?"

hanta knocks his head back and sighs, sparking up his cigarette and plotting how tf hes gonna killl his bestfriend and come up with a believable cover story.

within seconds, hanta’s phone buzzes. the screen lights up with a text from denki to the group chat. "yo, I just invited my friend to da partyyy. Hope dats cool :3"

mina replies instantly with a "of courseeeeee !!!!!" as hanta scrambles off the ground after his friend. “you didn’t.”

“oh, I did.” denki winks, walking backwards and narrowly dodging a telephone pole in the middle of the sidewalk, practically vibrating with excitement.

hanta groans maybe he can get bakugou to help him hide the body. denki's or his own, he's not sure yet.

by the time the party rolls around, hanta’s not sure what’s worse: that he’s actually looking forward to it, or that denki’s probably masterminded half of it. he rolls up to the venue, mina's cramped, barely-lit apartment on the edge of campus, and immediately regrets every decision that led him here.

the front door is cracked open, the sounds of music and voices spilling out into the street like it’s some kind of wild circus. the familiar smell of weed hits him even before he steps inside, thick and pungent, mixing with cheap beer, cologne and the faintest hint of sweat. he steps through the door, practically getting knocked over by the surge of people.

and there you are.

hanta spots you immediately, even though there’s a sea of bodies moving around. you’re laughing at something kirishima just said (or maybe it’s bakugou, hanta’s not sure — both of them are too loud and too obnoxious, for some reason the angry blonde turns into the biggest joker when there are pretty girls around), your eyes sparkling in the dim, red-tinted light of the apartment. you’ve got your hood up over your head, and your smile is infectious in a way that makes his chest feel tight.

he tries to shake it off, but damn it, you’re pretty, and it’s only getting worse the longer he stands there, trying to be cool about it.

as if on cue, denki spots him across the room, waving him over like the over-enthusiastic piece of shit he is. “ayo- hanta, over here man."

hanta makes his way over to where denki and the others are, but his eyes keep flicking toward you. you notice him, and a little smile quirks up on your lips. his heart skips a beat.

“yo,” you say with a nod when he gets closer, that same lazy, sleepy tone from the other night, but this time, it’s mixed with an easy confidence that hanta can’t quite place. “so, you actually showed up.”

“uh, yeah,” hanta scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, already regretting how much he’s suddenly aware of your presence. “thought i’d make the trip out since... well, y'know, denks 'n mina insisted.”

you laugh, that same sound that makes his stomach flip. “yeah, he’s kind of like that.”

denki leans over your shoulder up at hanta, grinning like a maniac. “told you I was good for it, right? knew she'd be down to hang out.”

“yeah, you don't shut up either,” hanta mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips because, damn it, denki makes a noise of offence and your eyes just twinkle at him.

hours later, hanta’s pretty sure he's had way too much to drink — not that he’s complaining. it’s the usual party chaos. kirishima’s in the middle of a heated game of flip cup with bakugou, mina’s in the corner making everyone laugh with a story about some dumb thing that happened at work, and denki’s doing whatever denki does when he’s had too much to drink: embarrassing himself by feeling up on evryone art the function.

but through it all, hanta keeps finding himself glancing at you.

you’re sitting on the couch now, chatting with mina, your legs tucked under you, looking so... effortlessly cool and at ease with the world. it’s honestly getting kind of ridiculous how much his brain is fixated on you.

denki, of course, notices this, the little shit. he sidles up next to hanta, clinking his bottle against his, and waggles his eyebrows. “yo, bro. what’s up w'th you and my girl?”

hanta nearly chokes on his drink. “what? your girl?”

“yeah, come on,” denki teases, clearly enjoying this way too much, entwining his free hand around hanta shoulders and slowly moving their bodies close to where you're sat . “i’m not blind. you’re totally into her.”

“no, i—” hanta stumbles over his words, trying to act nonchalant about it. “no, i’m not. i just—she’s cool, that’s all. and you set this up.”

denki’s grin widens into a full-on smirk bringing his face so close to hanta that their noses are practically touching before mock-whispering. “i told you she was your type, didn’t i?”

“you’re unbelievable,” hanta mutters, pushing his friends face away from his own with the palm of his hand, but he’s not even mad. he knows denki well enough to know he’s not wrong.

across the room, you catch hanta’s eye again, and this time, you wave him over with that easy, relaxed smile of yours. his heart stutters in his chest, and before he knows it, he’s making his way over, ignoring denki’s victorious little cackle from behind him.

the night goes on, the music getting louder, the drinks flowing a little too freely, and the crowd growing more chaotic by the minute. but hanta doesn’t care. because when you look at him again, when you laugh and pull him into a conversation about some random thing — about denki, the stupid party, everything — was definitely worth it.

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 10

Happy Starlight everyone! My gift to you! We're gonna switch POVs for this one. I just wanted to show a bit of how Leona's handling things.

Premise: Leona after the break up

Words: 729

Music Inspirations: Monsters - All Time Low Feat. Demi Lovato & blackbear

~~~Vices~~~

               Leona glares at the ceiling, his empty chest keeping the lion from escaping the waking world. Cold morning light rains through the window onto his lonely bed. A savanna breeze whispers through, bringing with it hints of the world he never wants to see again.

               Nothing has been the same since the event that led to the biggest blowup of his life. He finds no light anymore and barely finds the motivation to even breathe. Even the naps he used to escape the world bring him no solace. Instead, the world just passes by as he confines himself to his room waiting for the moment all this pain will finally end. Having tasted life, he finds no reason to go on without.

               A jingle pricks at his ear. Lazily, his head lolls to look at the device he’s surprised still has any battery left. Reaching out, his hand acts without his head’s permission.

               That’s Ruggie. Heaven knows how he’s still on the team with how much practice he’s missed.

               Still…

               How dare his heart still hope.

               It’s been nearly a full year since he last saw his love—on the day of the Briar Prince’s wedding. He made the mistake of thinking he found someone that genuinely cared about him. He thought that, for once, he would be the first pick. Leona Kingscholar had fallen so deeply in love that it blinded him to the real world and now he’s paying the price. Reality firmly put him back in his place and snubbed him for even daring to think he could be happy.

               But no, he never had a chance. Instead he was insulted, screamed at, and told to stay away. Right in his face, his heart was torn to pieces and stamped into the ground even though he wore a snarl the entire time. Leona was never meant to win. Especially against that damn dragon. 

               Despite all the pain it caused him, Leona kept his mouth shut about what happened. He could’ve spilled the truth and thrown the illustrious Draconias under the bus for all the heartache caused. Yet every time he so much as considered revenge, his heart quashed the idea. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy their reputation, all because of his stupid feelings. No matter how he cursed himself, there was no changing his decision.

               To make matters worse, his family insists on trying to help him through a problem they’re grasping at straws to understand. He wants none of it and acknowledges no effort—hell, he barely even acknowledges their existence anymore. Leaving his room is a rare occurrence, so they often sit with him. Sometimes they have their own conversations or talk to him without answers, sometimes they simply sit in silence as they go about their own tasks, but the worst of all is when they turn on the television. Oftentimes, it’s his nephew watching some silly show. However, Falena and his wife like to watch the news. The news is always filled with ridiculous stories that are easy to ignore. It’s the ones that mention the Draconias that always stab at his chest. Where they were seen dining, where their honeymoon had been, the event they attended, what they were wearing. Of course he can’t help peeking at the screen when that happens, but even just hearing about them brings fresh lashings against his wavering stability.

               Those are the nights the sand grates against his skin. He doesn’t know any other way to drown out the grief.

               “Unca Leo! Unca Leo!”

               His door bursts open without even a knock. The mattress shifts beneath the excited jumping of the cub despite the lack of response from the elder prince.

               “Guess what?!”

               The family chamberlain is quick to follow.

               “Prince Cheka! Don’t bother your uncle!”

               That does nothing to deter the young lion from shaking his family by the shoulder.

               “Papa says we’re going to a birthday in Briar Valley!”

               Leona’s body tenses.

               No.

               “Cheka!”

               Faster than he has in a long time, the elder lion reaches for his phone. Scrolling through messages he shamefully re-reads, he feels the vice in his chest. His grip creaks around the device as his hand shakes.

               No.

               He knows better. He knows he shouldn’t. But he’s so pathetically helpless.

               “When are we leaving?”

               Fuck.

~~~~~

Part 11 (Coming Soon)

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[mossyscavern]

What’s this… christmas, you speak of?

_____________________

“AAGH! YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING-!”

Rumble and frenzy ran straight past the other decepticons as the two chuckled at their recent activity, a bit behind them chasing the two mini cassettes is a very upset starscream.

The two turned a corner to the computer room and ducked behind both mechs that’s present in the room. “Best. Prank. Ever!” Frenzy whisper shouts.

Turning to his twin, confused as to why he’s so quiet and looking up, he followed his gaze and… yeah now he sees why.

Both megatron and Soundwave both stares down at the mini cons, optic ridges arched at the two. “And who pray tell have you two ‘pranked’ this time?” Megatron asked, crossing his servos at the two identical bots.

“Rumble, frenzy: speak the truth.” Soundwave warned, standing threateningly as one does. “Uh… we’ve both pranked-.”

“Where did those tin can’s go?!” Starscream asked, stomping in. The seeker is covered in silver and gold glitter wearing a Santa hat with antlers and a red nose on him.

“Starscream, late as alway-.” megatron stopped, now seeing the mess rumble and frenzy caused this time. “You look ridiculous… it’s a good look on you.” Megatron comments. “.. frag you too! Soundwave.”

“Starscream: can’t be taken seriously, take it off.” The mech states, monotone almost falters.

“Can’t, it’s glued on-. Never mind that! Where’s rumble and frenzy?!” Starscream asks, tapping his ped impatiently. “Direction: went that way when you stormed in here.” Soundwave says, pointing.

“Yeah sure, that’s what they want me to think... They’re probably still in my birth room!” He shouts, running out of the room and back to the way he came. Leaving the four bots to question his decision.

“… I can’t believe he did that.” Rumble finally spoke. “Yeah. And he was a scientific explorer.. mech.. thing.” Frenzy responded, trying to find a word for it.

“Back to what we’re doing, why does starscream look like part of his designation?” Megatron asked, turning towards the troublemaking duo. “Just some fun Christmas pranks.” Rumble answers. “We figured out glitter is hard to get rid of, so we made a glitter bomb in his wash racks.” Frenzy answers also.

“The hat and nose is just for fun, plus a way to get screamer into the wash racks in the first place.” Rumble finishes with a shrug followed by a huge run with no regrets.

“What’s this… Christmas, you speak of?”

Megatron asks, intrigued by the sound of this ‘Christmas’ the twins speak highly of. If it’s a way to destroy the auto bot than it shall-.

“Christmas: a bonding holiday about joy, family, friends, laughter and the celebration of birth of a human being, followed by two other holidays known as Hanukkah and Yule.” Soundwave answers.

‘Oh… just a simple holiday these creatures celebrate.’ Megatron thought. “I see… and it involves your endeavours why?” Megatron asked, now noticing the saddened look the two provides.

“We actually want to go snowball fighting, but because we’ve been so busy finding new ways to get energon we never had time for a proper day off.” Rumble admits. “Yeah, the auto bots get that type of time, why not us?”

Megatron pondered. It is true, all they’ve been doing the whole time was trying to find other sources of energy, but it’s crucial for their survival they need it to sustain themselves…

but they never exactly had a proper day off… it makes sense with rumble, frenzy and most of the decepticons to be antsy.

“… Soundwave, take the day off.. let them have some well deserved fun.”

“Affirmative.” Soundwave nodded as both frenzy and rumble, looked to each other and celebrated when Soundwave nodded to them both. “Alright! Should we do an igloo or snowball fight first?” Frenzy asks.

“I’m thinking igloo, snowmen building, snow angels and then a snowball fight, gotta go for calm before the storm frenz.” Rumble says, mischief in his visor.

Before Soundwave follows the walking pair megatron told Soundwave to announce the rest of the decepticon’s to post pone their recent plans and to take the day off. When they finally left megatron contemplates.

Megatron always wanted a family… shocking, he knows.

But he’s seen how family’s would get together and eat, spend time with their sparklings and conjunx, even celebrate with extended families as well. And it just… makes his spark feel lighter, especially with how heavy it is.

Maybe in another life he has a family… “Heh, impossible.’ Megatron thought, shaking his helm, before his optics land on the computer, seeing the yellow mini bot make a snowman.

For some strange reason megatron always feels… proud at the things the minibots is doing, even some of the little things.

It’s odd… but he doesn’t hate it, not one bit.

_____________________

… this was done in the last minute.

Not really since… well.. it took some time.. I just wanted to write g1 decepticons featuring megatron first hearing about Christmas.

Part of it was base off one of @yourplaywright’s stories on ao3 cause dang it! I did not realise they did one of my favourite g1 stories on there too until I looked again.

Plus it’s Christmas/yule, I wanna write it plus g1 of transformers cause why not? And… I do what I want..

My gift to you guys. Wholesome decepticon moments… cause yes.

[ink-and-dagger]

Hiii! I want to start by saying that I love your writing and I have re-read Drink With Me roughly 3 times now and it never gets old. However, with me rereading I can’t help but wonder about some silly hypotheticals regarding the story. So…if you don’t mind me asking, could you enlighten me😩🙏🏾😩🙏🏾😩:

1.) How would Silco and Reader (Astrid’s) mother interact? Do you think she would be scared of him? Or would she have him by the hypothetical balls?

1.5) Also branching off of the previous question: what would be the Readers, mother’s reaction to them getting back together?

2.) Could you see Silco and Reader (Astrid) getting married?

3.) Has Reader (Astrid) moved in with Silco by this point or does she just stay with him off and on?

4.) Since the Marcus fiasco, what would the interactions between Silco, Marcus, and Reader (Astrid) be like? Would there be tension or would Silco and Astrid rub it in his face? Perhaps some threats from Silco?🤔🤔🤔

5.) What would Reader (Astrid) and Silco’s relationship look like to an outsider? This question, I’m asking because two of my favorite chapters post Drink with Me are VIP Booth and Shag Rug. And both are instances where there are other people around or nearby when Astrid is dragged off by Silco😅😂. So I just wonder what the average bystanders would think, considering their relationship is private.

I hope this wasn’t too much. I just finally noticed that the link on AO3 was to your tumblr and I wanted to show some love.

P.S. if this is too much, feel free to disregard!

Thank you so much sweet anon! I'm so glad you enjoyed it enough to reread 3 times sob sob <3 <3 <3 Apologies for taking a hot minute, but here are some answers for you...

1.) How would Silco and Astrid’s mother interact? And what would be her mother’s reaction to them getting back together?

This is probably the number 1 top question/request I always get in my askbox lmfao. Silco has little to no interest in ever meeting Astrid's mother, and Astrid is cool with that too. However, if they ever did meet, mother dearest would certainly not have Silco by the balls. Her initial reaction to meeting him would be fear. After that, it would go either one of 2 ways depending on what mood Silco was in that day. He'd either stoke that fear. Or he'd charm her, and have her referring to him as the son she never had within roughly 10 minutes. I'd say the former is most likely, the latter would only be in order to lure her into a false sense of security before petrifying her with a benignly worded threat at a later date.

As to how she'd react to them getting back together post DWM - she'd disapprove (naturally), and would give Astrid a lovely long lecture about how stupid she is to make the same mistake twice and how Astrid's selfish decision is going to impact her [mother's] life.

2.) Could you see Silco and Astrid getting married?

Yes and no.

My headcanon is that marriage isn't hugely common in Zaunite culture because there's no pressure to prove the legitimacy of relationships (familial, romantic or otherwise). In Piltover, families are tied through blood and matrimony. In the Undercity, they're forged in fire. Genetics are inconsequential in Zaun - if you're kin, you're kin, regardless of the blood in your veins, and that's something that Topsiders by nature will never be able to comprehend. In Piltover, a couple who have been together for 2 years and married for 1 would be taken far more seriously and given more rights than a couple who have been living together for 10 years but aren't married. It's all about societal appearances and expectations up there. But in Zaun, none of that matters. Siblings born in hardship are no less than siblings born in blood. Love and loyalty down in the depths isn't defined by anything so tangible.

I'm not saying that people don't get married in Zaun - I'm certain they do - I'm just saying that it isn't such a thing as it is in Piltover or other similarly built societies. There's no expectation for a couple to get married after being together for a certain amount of time, and there's no judgement if they don't.

The reason Astrid's mother is so caught up with the idea is hard for me to put into a few words. She's resentful of her lot in life; a part of her feels she deserves to be wallowing in the Undercity, and another part of her is envious of those who aren't. She places Piltover on this weird pedestal of admiration. She's the type of working class woman who moans about how shitty her life is at the same time as having a framed picture of the monarch on her living room wall.

3.) Has Astrid moved in with Silco by this point?

Soz babe, I'm sitting on this answer a while longer :)

4.) Since the Marcus fiasco, what would the interactions between Silco, Marcus, and Astrid be like?

Tense.

Pretty much immediately after the epilogue in DWM, Astrid and Silco would have spent the morning in bed talking a lot of things out. Including Marcus. Silco no longer holds the past against Astrid, and they are both committed to moving forward together. Despite this, Marcus does remain somewhat of a sore spot in their relationship. Not actively per se, but Astrid avoids mentioning him at all costs, and tends to stay well out of the way whenever the Sheriff comes for a meeting. At the start of their relationship, she also made sure to stay away the night after any meeting too, to give Silco space as his mood post-Marcus meetings tended to be a little unpredictable. But as time passed and her relationship with Silco became more solid, the intensity of this 'sore spot' became less and less. Astrid still avoids mentioning Marcus, and stays well clear of him whenever he visits, but it isn't so awkward as it was at the start of her relationship with Silco now. That being said - the three of them haven't occupied the same room since that one fateful meeting in Chapter 14...

5.) What does Astrid and Silco’s relationship look like to an outsider?

That depends. By this point pretty much the entirety of Silco's staff knows about them in an unofficial capacity. They just pretend not to know. Let's face it - Silco and Astrid aren't as subtle as they think, and their chemistry is evident to anyone with eyes and half a brain. The only people who know about them 'officially' are Jinx, Sevika, Jasper, Max, Astrid's Mum, and Ran (Ran was an unfortunate accident - they walked in whilst S&A were sharing an intimate moment. They swore to secrecy and it's never been mentioned again).

There may be a few regulars in The Last Drop that suspect something is going on between Silco and the cute bartender - but most would likely assume it's a purely physical arrangement. Those who don't frequent the Drop as often and happen to see Silco pulling Astrid off somewhere private would most likely avert their eyes and think poor girl...

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

oh my poor buck buckley. why are you doing this to yourself. I say while enjoying the suffering immensely 🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓

153 or 1k for 🐓 - whatever I hit first!

---

He takes Christopher out for breakfast on Christmas Eve. Just them. He’s going to get to see him tomorrow, at his parents’, for family celebrations. Of course. He thinks he’ll skip on mass. They’re already disappointed in him anyway. 

They go to a diner. Christopher’s eyes are downturned, focused hard on the plastic menus. His energy is a bit different today than usual. Not better.  But his quiet moodiness seems less driven by spite than nerves. Unusual. What does he have to be nervous about? What small shift in standings has Eddie failed to notice?

“Everything okay today, Chris?” Eddie chances asking, after the server pours his coffee and walks away. 

Chris looks at him carefully, like sizing him up. Eddie really doesn’t know what’s going on. 

“I got a gift in the mail last night,” Chris says. 

The longest sentence he’s used all morning.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks. “From who?”

“Buck.”

Eddie goes a bit stiff. Chris doesn’t miss the change in body language. 

“Oh yeah? What did he get you?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t want to talk about Buck, really. But he does want to talk. So he’ll take it. 

“A new controller that connects to my computer,” Chris says. “A better one.”

“Hey, that was really nice of him,” Eddie says. “Did you call and thank him?”

Chris shrugs. “Tried. It went to voicemail.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, stomach twisting.

“Why didn’t you invite him for Christmas?” Chris asks. “We always see him for Christmas.”

Eddie feels like he’s been dumbed in an alternate universe. In what world could Chris expect to be here and have Christmas be the exact same? But then again, should he have invited Buck for Christmas? Buck, who is in Hershey, of all places. No way he wanted to spend the holidays there. He probably just went where Maddie was going because… Because he didn’t receive an invite from Eddie, maybe… Because Eddie isn’t around. 

“Uh, Buck actually went to Pennsylvania for Christmas this year,” Eddie says. It’s not a lie, but it’s avoiding the truth. “To visit his parents.”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “That’s stupid.”

Well… 

Yeah, okay. It sort of is. 

“Yeah, I wish he’d… Yeah. It’d be better if he was here. I should have offered.”

Would Buck have come? 

He can see Buck, tight-faced and red-eyed. Don’t worry about me. I’m used to it by now, Eddie. His heart clenches. 

“Is he okay?” Chris asks. 

Eddie blinks. “Um, I… I don’t really know. I think he’s… I mean, I’m sure he is. Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound like you know,” Chris says. 

It feels like tiny needles prying under his skin. This line of discussion. Like Chris is, unintentionally or otherwise, trying to pick at a raw wound. 

“I guess I don’t know as well as I should,” Eddie admits. “We aren’t talking as much as I thought we… He’s just busy lately.”

Christopher’s expression sours even further. 

“Why?” He presses. 

“Why to which part?” Eddie asks.

“Why doesn’t he want to talk to you or me?” Chris asks. “He didn’t answer my call.”

“He’ll call you back, Chris,” Eddie promises. “He wants to talk to you. He’s with his family.”

 “We’re his… Ugh. Why doesn’t he want to talk to you?” Chris asks. 

“He’s not not talking to me, Chris. I think he’s just taking some space. He was sad when I left.”

“He’s sad you’re here so he’s talking to you less?” Chris frowns.

Eddie sort of nods and shrugs in combination. 

“That doesn’t make sense!” Chris complains. “You need to fix that.”

Is he serious? Is he fucking kidding? Eddie’s patience is very near worn thin. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Christopher, sometimes our decisions hurt other people, even when we don’t mean for them to,” Eddie grits.

Chris inhales sharply. “You’d know.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I do.”

Christopher looks like he’s about to cry, and Eddie still doesn’t understand what this is about. Was it just to make Eddie feel like shit? Another reminder. All he ever does is lose and hurt people. He’s trying to be better and he can’t manage it. Why else keep pressing about Buck? The one person who has ever really been singularly Eddie’s. At least in his own version of events. In truth, that’s probably not what he was at all. Even if it really, really felt like it.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Chris says after a moment, voice returning to its regular, discontent mumble. 

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Me neither.”

➡️

Eddie sends Buck a voice note later that afternoon. Obviously he’s thinking about him. Him and Chris. There’s nothing else to think about. He’s very tempted to grab a beer and cry about it all. But that seems like a dubious use of alcohol. Something Bobby would frown at, like an angel on his otherwise hellish shoulder. 

So he doesn’t. 

He sits down to watch a movie, trying to find something that doesn’t remind him of anything or anyone. He settles on a stupid cheesy Christmas romance he isn’t invested in at all. Where the actors are mediocre at best and look like they were spit out by AI. Something Chim would hate. But he doesn’t want to think about Chim either right now. So he doesn’t. He just watches and pretends there’s a reason for watching. 

It’s during the commercial break that he sends the voice note. 

He’s not sure why he chooses it over a call or text. Maybe because he knows Buck won’t pick up a call, but he still wants him to hear his voice. He still hopes he’ll send his own voice back. Maybe with a little less pressure. 

“Hey, Buck,” he says. “Uh… I had breakfast with Chris today. He mentioned your gift. Thank you for doing that. Uh, he also said he tried to call and… Well, you’re probably just busy. Hope you’re having a good time. Maybe call him though, when you can? It sounded like he misses you a lot. Thanks.”

[sergle]

yall are about to piss me off by not having any PASSING basic knowledge of the way the u.s. military manipulates its recruits into joining by typing up one of your uninformed, unresearched, unempathetic, individualistic, unbelievably annoying posts about how 100% of the people in the military ended up there because they just Love America So Damn Much! they're extremely mature and informed at time of recruitment, they can totally leave anytime they want, they totally had tons of other avenues in life they could've taken, there was no rush at all to get income as fast as possible, and everyone in the military also totally is part of the combat divisions and personally enjoys being IN the military very much, big believers of violence. everyone in the military is shooting guns all day, that's how that works. they LOVE BLOODSHED. also I love the "amewicans haha" twang to this type of shit because you're actually TOTALLY stealing our Thing, which is turning systemic issues into Individual Issues. Instead of talking about the powers that be, it's so Personal Choice up in here. It's, "well you shouldn't have done it then. I totally wouldn't because I know better." you don't wanna talk about the military industrial complex as a whole, and you don't want to talk about recruiters, you just want to pin the blame on Specific Individual People one-by-one, as if they're responsible for the system that they're being ground up in. someone was in the military? bad person, no matter what. it's easier to believe that, I guess, than to acknowledge that Normal People (with high school educations) are manipulated and incentivized into joining a system that is Bad. at like age 18. but yeah no that 18 year old should have just been smarter lol haha anyway here are some screenshots for no particular reason

side note this reply of someone going "umm just get loans and go into a high paying field it's easy XD" as a direct response to someone trying to explain how most americans joining the military are being funneled in that direction out of a need for money.

and another person who Decided that americans join the military just CLENCHING their teeth thinking of other people, and not thinking completely selfishly about their own selves and their own income/housing/healthcare.

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

me, hyped up about Star Trek Enterprise again after finishing my beloved season 3: I wonder if there are any posts about it on tumblr *searches*

me, twenty minutes later, closing the results: ah. I see. it has suffered from fandomification, where fans threw out canon and replaced it with fanon. one hundred and thirty seven polls asking "what was your first/favorite star trek" and it is at the bottom of every one. this between 14million other posts about every other star trek series. some funny memes thrown in for ~flavor~. great. wonderful. I'll just go back into my happy little corner with my parents who unironically enjoy the show with me then.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

[katagawajr]

well.