#i simply wanted to know if it was still working or not

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter two | formula one imagine

chapter two: a dutchman and an italian in london

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

y/n still has a decision to make, maybe a little visit can sway her vote

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PREVIOUS PART

the next morning y/n found herself sat on her couch with only brando’s loud purrs breaking the stifling silence. the letter from kimi sat on the coffee table collecting the condensation from y/n’s abandoned glass of orange juice as she continued to mull over the decision.

stuck in her mind, y/n stopped petting brando and stared off into the grey skies of west london. she told herself over and over again that decisions like this should be easy. simply, if she wanted to do it, she would’ve known the first time the offer was floated to her. but she didn’t have that immediate burst of excitement, instead she felt her heart stop and hairs on the back of her neck stand up. in that moment y/n had realised that a place that ignited that kind of reaction in her was not a place she needed to be - therapy had worked it seems.

but then again, if it was such a sure no, why wouldn’t it leave her mind? pictures of her in black alongside the young italian, back at the tracks she loved and around the people she admired flashed across her mind.

three polite knocks rung out across the apartment. y/n wasn’t expecting visitors and the front desk hadn’t notified her of any visits or deliveries. it was probably mrs. granger from down the hall forgetting which door was which again so she ignored it and went back to petting brando.

three more knocks, a little more urgent this time, came ringing through the rooms. brando’s ears perked up as he jumped down from the couch and trotted towards the front door.

“brando, come back here,”

y/n whisper-shouted towards the cat who neglected to heed her warnings. tiptoeing into the kitchen, y/n rifled through her draws for a weapon, settling on a ceramic rolling pin as her weapon of choice. as she crept towards the door y/n could hear some quiet bickering being dulled by the thick door and then a sudden pounding at it. brando meowed in surprise and bolted, likely for his preferred hiding place under y/n’s bed.

“y/n open the fucking door i know you’re in there!”

max verstappen. y/n sighed, lowering the rolling pin and opening the door. much to her surprise the dutchman wasn’t alone, peering over his shoulders was kimi antonelli himself.

“were you going to make me into a pie? move out of the way,” max said looking at the rolling pin and pushing past y/n into the apartment.

“yes, i guess you can come in max…”

max shucked off his shoes and moved into the kitchen, opening the fridge and cracking open a red bull. kimi followed apprehensively, taking his shoes off slowly and placing them neatly by the door.

“see! it’s almost like you knew i was coming,” max said with a smug smile, “now where’s my little boy?”

almost on cue, brando strolled back into the kitchen and immediately started rubbing against max’s legs. the dutchman knelt down and scooped brando up in his arms, red bull long forgotten as he doted on the cat.

“now you’ve tormented my son, do you want to tell me why you’re here?”

y/n asked, arms crossed and with an unimpressed look on her face. looking over to kimi, the italian quickly ducked his head and fiddled with the sleeves of his jumper. max continued cuddling brando, ignoring y/n’s questioning stare.

“i’m giving you two ten seconds to give me a good reason as to why you’ve come to disturb my peace today before i throw you out,” y/n announced. max cleared his throat and straightened his back, much to the chagrin of brando.

“right, okay,” max started, “you gotta take the job y/n. look at his little face,” max leant over and pinched kimi’s cheek, “look at him he’s so young and innocent. think of all the big ugly bullies like carlos and lando, you can’t leave him alone with them!”

“you came to guilt me into taking the job?”

“no!” kimi squeaked, “that was max’s idea. i wanted to come and tell you my reasons myself. i wrote you a letter but i don’t know if it ever made it to you.”

kimi’s eyes locked on the letter on the coffee table and looked back at y/n, eyes getting watery.

“oh. you did get it,” kimi started biting at his nails, “i’m sorry for coming and invading your privacy miss y/ln, we’ll leave you alone now.”

the italian turned to max, pleading with his eyes to go. max held up his hand, jostling brando again.

“we’re not going anywhere kimi, this has gone on far too long. y/n i get that you don’t really want to come back and for very valid reasons, but deep down i know you do. racing is everything to you and i know you changed your mind when you read kimi’s letter.”

kimi’s head shot up, looking at y/n with an unbridled and heartbreaking amount of hope. he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, as if to stop himself from blurting out whatever he was thinking.

“that bullshit article about zak is no reason not to come back. he’s doing it on purpose to keep you from coming back. he’s a fraud, we all know he is. he’s terrified of you, that’s why he takes cheap shots at you. you don’t need to go anywhere near him in the paddock but don’t let him keep you away from what you love.”

y/n sighed, her head in her hands but max just grinned, sending a wink kimi’s way.

“you know i’m right y/n.”

“why can’t you be a mentor? you can look out for kimi?” y/n countered, her words sharp like an animal backed into a corner.

“and have to spend more time with george russell? i’m sorry kimi but there’s only one person worth suffering through that for”

kimi didn’t really seem too bothered by the dig at his new teammate, his eyes not leaving y/n’s, holding onto every word.

“so you’re saying that i should have to suffer through that instead?”

y/n smirked at kimi and took her cat from max’s arms. she sat back down on her couch and motioned for kimi to come and sit beside her. the italian sat cross legged, body angled towards y/n. to his surprise the first thing the brit did was place brando on his lap. kimi let out a soft yelp before brando started nudging his head against kimi’s chin. ”he likes you, that’s a good sign. my brando is an amazing judge of character so i trust he would pick out a good work partner for me”

kimi stopped petting brando so abruptly at y/n’s words that the black cat pawed at his chest to regain the italian’s attention.

“so you think we could work well together?” kimi asked in a small voice, making sure to continue stroking brando’s head this time.

“the annoying one over there won’t leave me alone if i don’t say yes,” y/n said, nodding towards max. the dutchman let out a ‘i heard that’ from the kitchen but left the other two to their discussion. “but he’s also right. i love racing and it hurts me very deeply that i can’t do it anymore. but i also see a lot of myself in you and your letter was so sincere it’s honestly changed my whole world view. i’ve been throwing myself a pity party for three years, enough is enough - and i can’t think of a better racer to be a mentor to.”

“really?”

the smile on kimi’s face was all-consuming, his eyes crinkling and a little giggle escaping as well.

“yes. although i am also impressed you came all the way from monaco to ask me.”

max plucked brando from kimi’s lap and crashed into the armchair, “oh he came all the way from italy actually”

y/n’s head whipped back to kimi who shrugged, whispering a small ‘worth it’ under his breath. max continued,

“he messaged me on instagram - my official account so vic had to text me about ‘this kid who wants to see if you’ll go to london with him’. then he drove all the way from milan to monaco and then we took air max here. he’s a very dedicated one you got there”

“you drove from milan to monaco? do you even have a road licence?”

kimi went to interject but y/n kept going, “it’s so early, when did you drive? you didn’t drive overnight did you?” the silence was answer enough.

“that is so not good for you kimi! right,” y/n stood up, dragging kimi with her, “i don’t have the spare room set up yet so you’ll have to deal with my bed. i have some of max’s clothes here that you can borrow but i order you to go take a nap and in a couple of hours i’ll take you both to lunch.”

kimi followed y/n like a little duckling to her room, hearing max in the background grumble about how he never gets offered a bed for a nap. y/n grabbed some clothes from her bottom draw and handed them to kimi.

“sorry they’re red bull branded, that loser doesn’t wear anything else, we just won’t tell toto will we?”

kimi let out another giggle, heading towards the en suite room to change. at the door he turned to y/n who was plumping the pillows and making the bed.

“thank you for taking a chance on me. i promise i’ll make it worth it.”

“don’t worry kimi. i think we’ll be great together. get a couple hours of sleep and we’ll get some food.”

y/n moved towards the door and gave kimi a soft smile as she closed it. the italian felt an even bigger smile break out on his face and allowed himself to let out a girlish squeal - he just had to text ollie about this.

back in the living room both max and brando had moved to the bigger couch and stared at y/n with knowing eyes.

“what?”

“nothing. just by my calculations it took you a whole two minutes to crumble and start the mother duck act.”

“so you don’t want me to come back?”

y/n poked, max sighed.

“you know that’s not what i mean. but it’s cute, it suits you.”

“shut up,” y/n said, fighting off a blush, “do you want to watch some tv while the little one sleeps?”

max yanked the remote from y/n’s hand and patted the seat. it was just like old times, nearly.

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maxverstappen1

liked by olliebearman, isackhadjar and 803,899 others

maxverstappen1: when in rome

view all comments

user1: you’re not fooling me buster

user2: the way this is defo vic being told to create a diversion

user3: sorry to break it to the gal she’s not doing her best

victoriaverstappen: keep me out of this one

landonorris: rome you say

maxverstappen1: that’s what the caption says does it not

maxverstappen1: can you not send me twitter links you know i do not have the abomination that is that app on my phone

user4: so you haven’t seen all the f1 yuri ??? you’re missing out

maxverstappen1: what is yuri?

maxverstappen1: i’ll google it one sec

landonorris: can we get back to my original point please?

maxverstappen1: manners lando!

landonorris: they butted into our conversation ???

landonorris: you’re not in rome so stop lying

maxverstappen1: you’re right 😟

maxverstappen1: i’m in monaco!

landonorris: YOU’RE IN LONDON WE ALL KNOW YOU’RE IN LONDON

maxverstappen1: nuh uh

maxverstappen1: i literally saw you on my morning run today lando

landonorris; don’t try and gaslight me bitch

landonorris: i saw the twitter account of your private jet it says you’re in the u.k. ?

maxverstappen1: that’s an invasion of privacy lando, i can’t believe you

landonorris: THEN STOP LYING

maxverstappen1: wow, big accusation buddy, you must be learning from george

user5: max will never not bring that up

user6: the way y/n and george used to be so close i wish i could’ve seen her reaction to that whole thing

user7: considering he never said anything in support of her after everything that happened… well i don’t think he would’ve gotten much support from her

user8: george russell and y/n y/ln takes a drag i haven’t heard those names together in a long time

user9: real ones know they were the OG brit ship

user10: yall just can’t let a woman exist can you

user11: lando up in the business sorry mclaren you can’t fool me

user12: i think if y/n does come back to f1 she should be allowed to shoot one man a day there

user13: i agree

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the trio are huddled around a cramped table way in the back of the quaint restaurant. both drivers are meant to be following their meal plans but have both gone for the hearty bowl of pasta recommended by y/n.

“i can’t believe my best friend is going to be back in the paddock, i love you my little italian man,” max sighs happily, ruffling kimi’s hair. “but also i don’t care if you’re going to be in the mercedes garage, i need a united front against george this season i am not letting the shit he pulled last season fly.”

kimi suddenly stopped, fork halfway to his mouth, looking at y/n alarmed.

“kimi, stop worrying, i’ve said yes, i’m not going to back out now,” y/n said, refilling the italian’s glass of water, “but i can’t guarantee i’ll be anything but just civil with george.”

“wait!” kimi yells, mouth full of pasta, “ollie and i have always wanted to know what happened between you two, if we’re allowed to know…”

y/n and max shared a look.

“i didn’t know me and george were such a hot topic with the rookies. i don’t know whether to be annoyed or not?”

“well it’s just me and ollie,” kimi slams his cutlery down and waves his hands, “one time i was wearing some of your merch after an f2 race and i was sat with toto when george came in and he took one look at my shirt and just glared at me. it was very weird but we’d never heard of anything about you two.”

“i mean we haven’t spoken in three years so i’d be impressed if there was still some gossip to go around,” y/n turned to max, “but if it’s anything like the last two races, it won’t take long to kick off again.”

max laughed to himself when y/n grabbed his hand.

“what did you say to him allegedly? that you’d put him on his head in the wall… well it sounds familiar…”

both max and kimi gasp, the younger leaning in, on the edge of his seat.

“oh boys, let me take you back to 2019…”

may 2019.

jimmyz smelt overwhelmingly of sweat. fancy sweat, but sweat nonetheless. y/n was stuck in the sea of bodies, clinging to the arm of mick schumacher and her watery vodka cranberry like her life depended on it. many hours earlier she stood proudly on the top step after winning the formula two feature race by an impressive ten seconds, her dancing partner standing second on the podium.

“i’m going to get a drink, do you want one?” mick tried to shout over the booming music. y/n waved her half-empty glass in his face and gave him a thumbs up. the german nodded and turned, starting his fight to get to the bar.

now alone, y/n let the atmosphere of the club and her earlier victory wash over her. yes, she was doing the typical white girl club dance but she’d earned that right on the track. y/n was lost in the music when mick finally returned, balancing his drink, two tequila shots, two limes and a packet of salt.

“i told you i didn’t need a drink, silly,” y/n yelled in his ear.

“the barman told me podium sitters had to have a tequila shot, jimmyz law?”

y/n took the shot glass from him and one of the limes. mick licked two lines on his hand and poured out the salt. she raised her eyebrow at him.

“what? we’ve done worse?”

she leaned forward and licked the salt from the german’s hand, threw back the shot and sucked on the lime. tequila shots still hadn’t gotten easier. mick beckoned her forward and whispered in her ear, “miss monaco winner, i fear we have an audience.”

y/n pulled back and looked around jimmyz. lewis hamilton was nearby, taking off his comically wet shirt for a captive audience after daniel had insisted on emptying another bottle of champagne on the brit. sebastian vettel had dragged an unwilling charles to jimmyz, who despite the thunder in his eyes, tried to dance along with his teammate. the trio of rookie brits were all off to the side, both lando and alex were trying their luck with the many girls alongside them in the vip booth but george stood alone. he was glaring, y/n thought it was at her but on a closer look, george was attempting to murder mick with his eyes.

“well doesn’t he look like a ray of sunshine,” comments mick, spinning her around again. “i should probably go check on him, that williams was as shit as ever today, he doesn’t take losing very well.”

y/n thinks she hears mick mutter a little ‘he should get used to it’ but elects to ignore it. she lets him spin her once more before making her way over to the booth.

“penny for your thoughts mr russell,” y/n asked, dragging him to sit down in the booth with her. george sits down but puts some healthy room between them and looks around, paranoid.

“leaving room for jesus, georgie? don’t worry, i won’t tell if you don’t?”

y/n laughs at her own joke but george looks less than impressed. y/n face falls as she takes a long sip.

“hey, i know today was tough but you don’t have to take it out on me i’m just trying to talk to you.”

george grumbles something under his breath. y/n looks at him, asking him to repeat himself. george looks out onto the dancefloor, not replying.

“you clearly have a problem, can you spit it out or i can just go back to mick.”

“i’m sure you’d love that”

“excuse me?”

george scoffs and goes to stand up. y/n gets up just as fast, a little unstable on the heels she thought she could handle for just one night out.

“i said i’m sure you’d love to go back out there and rub all over mr nepotism out there,” george shouted spitefully.

“i’m allowed to dance with my friends george. i don’t see what the problem is here.”

george wipes his face in frustration, “that’s the issue - you don’t think. what if people were allowed to film in here. a video of you like that, licking his hand like that - imagine what they would say?”

“i don’t have to imagine when you seem more than happy to say it yourself george.”

“i’m trying to be a good friend, clearly someone has to think of these things if you won’t”

y/n laughs bitterly, “my knight in shining armour, thank you for taking time out of your day to metaphorically slutshame me so i don’t have to.”

george groans and slams his drink down onto the table.

“mick is not just a friend, he is a competitor. there’s a difference. people will say things - that you’re sleeping with him to get an advantage, that you’re using him and his name to get a seat in formula one,” george said, exasperated.

“or is that just what you think?” y/n said, looking up at george with tears in her eyes.

“no! of course not, but people will say that y/n you have to be careful.”

y/n’s tears turned to hot, angry tears, the tequila shot pushing her to say the things she would usually push down.

“let them. if what you say is true, they’ll say it even if it’s not true. who cares? what do you expect me to do when i make it to formula one? take a vow of celibacy and not leave my hotel room every weekend?”

“i’m not saying i agree with it but this is how the sport is right now unfortunately. your image will matter so much more,” george said, trying to grab her hand but y/n yanked it away from him.

“george, people will call me a slut no matter what i do - i’m not going to let it stop me from celebrating when i want to, when i deserve to,” y/n hissed, she’d had quite enough of this conversation, this is not what a monaco winner does to celebrate.

“they won’t respect you if they see you like this,” george pointed to her dress, a short black number that showed off her legs but had a high neck, “they definitely won’t respect you if they see you dancing like that with mick or licking his hand.”

y/n’s head was hot, she needed george out of her sight or this could get ugly. “it sounds like i’ve already lost your respect, or did i even have it to begin with?” george protests, but y/n kept going.

“why do you really want to keep me at home? do you want to have me all to yourself, is that why mick is bothering you so much? or can you not stand the fact that i might beat you next year? a girl you deem a slut might be faster than you? might get a better seat than you faster? i might be a girl and you might think in some fucked up way that you have dibs on me because you’ve known me so long but let it be known, you try and pull anything with me on track and i’ll put you on your fucking head in the wall.”

y/n turned on her heel and stormed out of jimmyz.

present.

“oh shit.”

max whispered while kimi sat with his mouth open, struggling for words.

“we were young there,” y/n goes to explain, “but he ruined that monaco win for me. i think in a weird way he was trying to help but it came out wrong.”

the waitress had come to start clearing away the table and kimi was still gaping like a fish.

“that was so much worse than i was expecting. am i still allowed to tell ollie, i promise he won’t tell.”

y/n chuckled, “you can tell who you want, kimi, i don’t really care. it’s a fun tidbit, maybe if he pulls a fast one again with either of you it’ll be a cute ted’s notebook segment.”

“now that would make the sky prices worth it.”

GQ Man of the Year Red Carpet Live Updates

excerpt of red carpet interview between Y/N Y/LN and interviewer

interviewer: hi y/n! wow you look beautiful tonight!

y/n: thank you so much, you look amazing too!

interviewer: oh! you’ve got me blushing…

y/n: that’s my job!

interviewer: it’s amazing to see you, this is your first public appearance in over three years, we’ve missed you!

y/n: i know, i was nervous for tonight, i thought maybe i’d be on the red carpet and everyone would’ve forgotten who i am…

interviewer: we could never forget you

y/n: that’s too sweet

interviewer: especially when you’re turning looks like these

y/n: i know, three years of religiously wearing sweat pants, i knew i had to dress to impress

interviewer: don’t leave us for the sweat pants for that long i beg

y/n: i think you’ll see me out and about more often don’t worry

interviewer: is that a hint

y/n: it can be… as much as i would love to give you the exclusive darling, i have a contract i have to abide by

interviewer: very intriguing… well thank you for stopping and talking with us tonight

y/n: no worries! i’ll see you around

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the apartment was quiet when y/n returned from the GQ Man of the Year event, max and kimi had only been there for a couple hours the day before, but already the apartment seemed scarily empty. brando slinked up to y/n brushing against the expensive fabric, meowing for food as if y/n hadn’t gotten the notification for his automatic feeder.

“oh stop being so loud, baby,” y/n slumped down on the couch, kicking off her heels, “i might order some food and give you some scraps if you’re nice to me.”

the back of the dress was too complicated to tackle on an empty stomach so y/n resigned to eating cheap takeout in her designer dress. the chicken shop was embarrassingly frequent in her recent orders but she purchased her usual order anyway, not like she had a diet like the others anymore.

after just five minutes of scrolling through twitter, seeing her fans having a meltdown did bring a smile to her face, the bell went. her usual chicken shop was good, but not that good. however, in a good mood, y/n swung the door open with a smile.

“oh. you’re not my chicken shop order.’

“no. i’m not. but you are a mercedes mentor now?” lewis hamilton said with a tenacious smile.

“i’m kimi’s mentor,” y/n reminded him quickly, opening the door enough for him to enter.

“quite a get up you’re in,” lewis said, “quite a way to annouce your return.”

y/n poured a glass of water for him, “technically sky announced my return. you sad you missed me at mercedes?”

lewis smirked and moved around the kitchen counter. he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “what could you teach me?”. the air was thick with tension and the room was suddenly a lot hotter, y/n didn’t know where to look or how to reply. as she stood there, just inches away from lewis with her mouth open, ready to reply, the bell went again.

“that’ll be the front desk with my food,” y/n choked out, moving back towards the door and taking in a deep breath. she took the food from the concierge and slips him some money as a thank you.

y/n placed the order on the counter and flicked her eyes back over to lewis. “i’d say we could share, but this is definitely not vegan. was there a reason you came? i didn’t even think you had my address?”

the smirk again. “i can’t just want to come and see you? in his excitement max was very loose-lipped, but i can’t say i’m too angry about it. i would’ve preferred if you had trusted me with it from the start…”

“no one had my address,” y/n replied.

“max did.”

“max is different”

“how so?”

“he just is, okay? i didn’t think anyone would want anything to do with me after the crash. i just wanted to wallow in peace”

“please don’t assume how i feel about you again,” lewis finished his water and moved towards the door, “i’ll leave you to your food, don’t be a stranger in the paddock.”

lewis picked up her hand and gave it a quick kiss and left as fast as he came.

what the fuck. the door shut and y/n was floored. what just happened?

whatever it was, it would have to wait until after she had eaten to be processed. while plating her food, y/n picked up her phone and opened her text thread with max.

i’m serious dude, stop giving people my address.

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fin.

note: oh wow so this series blew up - i'm serious i got such an influx in followers i'm so glad you guys are enjoying it! some new players have entered but you'll just have to keep guessing! one warning, i do go back to work thursday so updates will slow but one of my new years resolutions was to write more anyway!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998

[lymtw]

Comfort The Tired Soul

Toji comes home from work feeling a whirlwind of different things. He's starving, he's exhausted, he wants to bury his face between your thighs, but he also just wants to lay his head on your lap and have you play with his hair. His body is basically running on autopilot, holding off on giving out until he sees you.

He unlocks and opens the front door, hoping to smell something amazing. Something warm and made by none other than you and your precious hands. Instead, he enters a house that looks like his home, but lacks what truly makes it deserving of the title—you. You aren't there on the couch, ready to jump on him like you normally do. The house smells clean, the couch cushions are properly positioned, like you haven't laid there, at all. The TV is off, the shower isn't running, there's no music blasting from your phone—it's dead silent.

Toji keeps walking, keeps searching for you around the house, the occasional 'doll' and 'ma' being called out. He still peeks into the bathroom, despite the light being off, and rules it out when he sees there's no sign of you. The next room he directs himself towards is the bedroom. The light is off and the door is closed, so he isn't expecting anything from this room, either, but he checks, anyway.

Lo and behold, there you are, sitting on the bed, cross legged. The only light that illuminates your tear stained face and your nervous habit of biting your nails in action, is the screen of your phone.

"Hey, doll," Toji says, his voice calm and steady, so as not to scare you. His hand holds the doorknob and he keeps the door pressed to his shoulder, as he watches you quickly try to get yourself together. You stop biting your nails and you wipe at your face with the sleeves of your hoodie.

"Oh, hey, baby," you say, with enthusiasm that Toji knows you're working too hard to provide. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be home so early. I didn't make anything for you to eat."

Toji instantly notices that your voice doesn't sound like it usually does. It sounds like you're trying hard to keep your emotions down, but there's an annoying lump in your throat that doesn't allow you to hold yourself up very well. You're also still pawing at your face with your sleeves, like your tears haven't subsided.

"It's six, ma. You know I always get home around this time. What are you doing in here with the lights off?" He flicks on the light to get a better look at you and your shrunken demeanor. Immediately, he notices the way you squint and furrow your eyebrows—a normal reaction to brightness after being in the dark. What wasn't normal, was the way you rubbed the space between your brows, like the sudden brightness of the room was affecting you more than it should have and you were trying to soothe the pained area.

"Nothing," you simply say, laughing, nervously. It's a sound with no detectable joy in it, and Toji knows very well that it's fake. You can't trick him into believing that you're alright, with it.

By instinct, Toji has gone into his protective mode. He steps further into the room, with newfound energy, and heads for the spot in front of you. The room is quiet, like the rest of the house, until he sits down. He tugs on the sleeve of your sweater, a silent way of signaling that he's there, but also a request for you to spare him your attention. You look up, facing him, and he sees it all. The slight puffiness and redness of your eyes, the wetness of your eyelashes. Something is tearing you up inside.

"Tell me everything," Toji says, setting a hand on your knee. Instantly, you blink and avert your gaze from him.

"Nooo," you whine, in an attempt to lighten up the mood a little. You didn't intend for your voice to crack and make his view of you more pitiful. "You're tired. You don't need this, right now."

The feeling Toji gets from seeing you this way, is like thousands of little needles jabbing at his heart. Your eyes are growing glossier by the second and you keep pressing your lips together, presumably to stifle the quivering of your lips.

"Sweetheart," Toji says, calmly. His voice carries love, patience, and understanding—all things that easily break down your facade and cause tears to begin freely streaming down your cheeks. Once again, words are lost between you and Toji, and silence nears, only kept away by the sound of your sniffling and soft, shuddered deep breaths. He takes your hand in both of his and brushes over your knuckles with his thumbs.

"I love you, mama. We have so much time," Toji, wholeheartedly, assures. His patience makes it hard for you to hold in your sobs—your chest and your throat hurt from not letting go of them. He sits there with you as your emotions pour out, playing with your hands and waiting for you to calm down enough to talk.

"I don't feel good, Toji," you finally manage to say, slowly shaking your head. You can't lift your gaze to meet his, again, even if you can feel him calling for your attention through the gentle squeezes he gives your hands. You feel vulnerable and you get this strange feeling in your stomach every time you think about how Toji is seeing you completely stripped of any strength to hold yourself together. You can't look at him, despite how attentive he's being. You don't want him to look at you, either, but you won't tell him to stop or push him away. You know it would be heartless of you.

"What hurts? Want me to get you some medicine?"

"No, no. I just..." you sigh, heavily. A fresh stream of tears roll down your cheeks when you shut your eyes. "I've had a massive headache all day and my chest hurts. It feels so heavy, like something is pushing down on it."

"You didn't tell me this earlier, when we were talking on the phone. You sounded just fine." His hands still, no longer squeezing your hands or gently brushing your skin. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have come home sooner, doll."

"That's why I didn't tell you. There's no need for me to share my stress with you while you're working. You have your own things to stress about, too. I'm not going to be another one of those things."

"Hey, come on, stop," he says, squeezing your hands, again, to signal that he isn't mad at you. You don't need more guilt mixing in with the rest of your feelings.

"I get home from work before you. I have time to wind down and... and clean up. The least I can do..." Your chest heaves, your harsher emotions catching up, again. "...is cook you a damn meal."

"My love, stop."

The room goes quiet again, nothing but the sound of your sharp, short inhales and sniffling. He got you to settle down with the remarks, but he wants to calm down your mind, as well. He gently wraps his hands around your shaky ones and brings them up to his lips. Soft kisses are planted on your fingers, your knuckles, and your palms—you feel his perfect scar, occasionally, brushing against your skin. After he sets your hands down on your lap and releases them, he moves up to his side of the bed and positions himself so that his back rests against the headboard. He calls for you, with a couple pats to the space he left for you between his legs and a warm, "Sit, doll."

You stay unmoving for a few seconds—indecisive. He just got home. You don't want to continue to drop all of this on him, but you can feel him watching you, and the more you feel his gaze on your back, the more you start to think about the time that is going to waste because you won't go to him. It's time that he can be using to rest—so, you make up your mind and crawl over to him.

Once your back is to his front, he molds around you. His arms envelop you, tightly, to ensure that you feel his warmth and understand that he physically has you, just as he does emotionally. He rests his chin on your shoulder, and turns his head to murmur a soft, "You listening?" You nod a couple times, while wiping your cheeks with the dampened sleeves of your sweater. "Okay." He tightens his arms around you a little more and places a gentle kiss on your neck, before facing forward, again.

"Ma," Toji starts, a soft sigh leaving him. He's really hoping that by the end of this talk, you won't be trembling in his arms, anymore. "You can't hide this type of stuff from me." The words don't come off as him scolding you or trying to be controlling. Instead, they sound more like a plead. A plead for you to trust him with your mental health the way you trust him with your physical safety, and for you to follow the rules of communication you've done so well at teaching him about.

"You just told me that you don't feel good. You're so stressed that your head hurts and your chest feels tight. Is that why you were in here with the light off?" Toji asks, tilting his head to look at you. You respond with a weak nod, not willing to use your even more weakened voice. "See? It's hurting you, baby. It's making things hard for you. There's no need for you to hold things in when you have me. Me being at work doesn't change a thing. When we're on the phone, I want you to tell me everything. Everything. Not just the good stuff."

He pauses, a brief intermission that gives you a chance to sit with everything he has said so far. He refrains from asking you questions, for now. Clearly, you aren't emotionally stable enough to explain everything going through your head, and it's likely you'll break down again before he even begins to grasp what has you in the condition of a wilted flower.

"You can tell me about anything. Know I'll do everything I can to help or make you feel better, because this? This isn't right, ma. You're my little sunshine. I can't have you dimming on me."

He notices you aren't shaking as much and you haven't been running your sleeves over your cheeks, anymore, so he squishes you in his arms and smiles softly when you release a puff of air—a stifled groan.

"And just so you know, I'm okay with you not making dinner every day," he says, planting a kiss on your jaw. "Don't get me wrong, I love when you cook for me, but I don't expect you to do it. I can make or get myself something to eat if you don't feel like cooking, alright? Don't ever stress about that, ma."

It goes quiet for a minute or so, just you and Toji sitting in the intimate, guarded atmosphere created between you and him. You feel the pressure of his heavy arms around you, you feel the body heat that emanates from him, you can smell the aftermath of a busy day on him, and though your eyes feel heavy and swollen from the waterfalls of tears you've shed, feeling this safe makes you want to cry all over again. He covered you up and kept you warm when he found you trapped in a mental rainstorm. He soothed your aching soul. He deserves the remainder of your tears—two final liquefied crystals, gliding down your cheeks. They make up the words you can't say in the moment. 'Thank you.'

"You're the last thing in the world that could ever stress me out. Understand?" Toji asks, breaking the silence. He receives a slow, barely noticeable nod, from you. "You promise?" He asks, seeking certainty in your response. Immediately after, he hums in thought, considering the recurrence of your inaudible responses, and decides to find a way around your simple head nods. "You probably don't wanna talk, right now, so just squeeze my hand. Let me know, mama."

He puts his hand out and waits for a physical confirmation from you—your hand around his, offering even the smallest amount of pressure. As soon as he sees you lift your hand, aiming to place it on his, he's rolling the puffy sleeve of your sweater up, so that he'll be making direct skin to skin contact, rather than having the thick fabric acting as a barrier between your hands. Your fingers interlace with his and you give him three squeezes, before relaxing your hold.

"Yeah? You love me?" Toji asks, a soft smile curling onto his lips. You squeeze his hand once, emphasizing your response with a familiar, subtle nod. "Love you, too, doll. Gonna take care of you, I swear."

You release his hand and wiggle out of his arms, turning around, afterwards. You keep your eyes shut, knowing that the puffiness must look even more extreme when your eyes are open, and just fall into him. He's safety, he's home, love, and everything more.

"Your pretty eyes got a raw deal, huh?" His hands go to your back and rub up and down the expanse in slow, soothing motions. You nod against his chest and tighten your arms around him. "It's okay. You're still the prettiest thing," he assures, pressing a couple kisses to the top of your head. "Wanna take a shower with me? Get some food after?"

"Mhm," you hum, a quiet affirmation. Still, you don't make any attempt to move from your position. Toji notices this and pins the delay on himself. He steals your role and makes it seem like he's the one that doesn't want to move.

"Alright, just..." He sighs, reciprocating your embrace. "Just give me a couple minutes. Wanna stay like this a little longer."

[kirammanswifey]

Would you be down to write some reverse comfort with the Arcane characters?

Basically just make them go through one of the worst days of their lives then have the reader take care of them (I mostly just wanted to see Viktor in this scenario, but if you want to write for other characters too that'd be awesome)

Either way take your time and I hope you have a wonderful day ~☁️

arcane characters reverse comfort x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i'm always down for this kind of scenarios, make me feel like a teenage girl again. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

It has been an exhausting day in the lab. The experiments have failed time and again, each mistake weighing heavier on Viktor’s shoulders. You can see it in his eyes when he finally gives in, letting the tools fall with a long, heavy sigh. He leans against the workbench, his slender, hunched figure casting a shadow of defeat on the walls illuminated by the flickering equipment.

"This doesn't make sense..." he murmurs, as though the words are a burden he needs to release. His fingers drum frustratedly on the metallic surface, and you feel the despair in every tap. "I’ve made mistake after mistake... Maybe this was all a mistake from the start."

His words hit you, but it’s the tone of his voice that wounds you more, filled with a self-criticism that is painfully familiar but no less difficult to hear. You know how much his work matters to him, how much of himself he has poured into these projects. And you know this failure consumes him more than he’s willing to admit. You can't just stand by and watch him spiral.

"Viktor," you say softly, stepping closer and placing a firm yet comforting hand on his arm. "You’re a genius, and even geniuses have tough days. Today was one of those days, but it doesn’t define who you are or what you do."

At first, he doesn’t respond. His gaze is lost, searching for answers in the shadows that stretch across the lab. But then his grey eyes meet yours, filled with doubt and exhaustion. "How can you be so sure? Every day without progress... I feel like I’m wasting time, like I’m failing everyone, even myself."

Your heart tightens at his words. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers gently, feeling the coolness of his skin against yours. "Because I know you, Viktor. I’ve seen your dedication, your passion. Every mistake, every small setback is part of the process. You don't have to carry this weight alone. I’m here to help you shoulder it."

The silence that follows is thick, but instead of uncomfortable, it’s a space where words aren’t necessary. Slowly, you see his posture relax, the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. Without letting go of his hand, you step even closer, sensing the fragility of the moment.

"Let’s step outside for a bit," you whisper, "You need to clear your mind, get some fresh air. You don’t have to do it all today, not tonight."

He looks at you again, with a mix of gratitude and weariness, and finally nods. "Alright," he says softly, as if it’s hard for him to admit he needs the break.

You walk together to the exit, your fingers still entwined with his. The night air is a balm, cool and light, carrying away some of the day's heaviness. You walk in silence through the almost deserted streets, the distant hum of the city a constant murmur.

"Thank you," he finally whispers, breaking the silence with a voice soft, almost breaking. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You stop, turning to face him. "You don’t have to know, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, through the good and the bad days. You don’t have to bear this burden alone."

He tilts his head, and for a moment it seems like he’s about to say more, but instead, he simply squeezes your hand tighter, a silent gesture that speaks volumes.

"Come here," you say, leading him to a nearby bench. You sit beside him, and for the first time all night, you see him take a deep breath, as if the fresh air could cleanse not just his lungs but also his mind and soul.

Viktor rests his head on your shoulder, allowing himself to close his eyes and savor the moment. You kiss his head and gently stroke his hair, cherishing these rare moments, knowing how precious they are when they happen.

"Today was a bad day," he finally says, his voice tinged with a quiet melancholy. "But, for some reason, it doesn’t feel as overwhelming with… with you here."

You smile softly, feeling warmth spread from his acceptance, from his openness. "I’ll always be here to remind you that even the worst days come to an end. And that you are stronger than you think."

He looks at you, and for an instant, the world seems to stop. His gaze, filled with gratitude and something deeper, envelops you. Before you can say anything more, you feel him leaning towards you, and in that moment, everything falls into place. His lips brush against yours with a tenderness that disarms you, a kiss soft yet laden with unspoken emotions.

When you part, just inches away, his eyes remain closed as if he wants to hold onto the moment a little longer. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper.

You cradle his face in your hands, gently caressing his cheeks. "There’s no need to thank me, my love."

Jinx

The day had been chaos, even by Jinx's standards. Everything had gone wrong: a botched attack, crumbling plans, and to top it all off, an unexpected explosion that almost trapped her in her own trap. Now, she sat in her lair, surrounded by the wreckage of her shattered inventions, her breath short and pulse racing. Her mind, always a whirlwind, now felt like a hurricane of uncontrollable voices and thoughts.

The laughter of her imaginary "friends" echoed in her head, growing louder, mocking her. "Failed again, Jinx. You always fail." She pressed her hands against her temples, squeezing as if she could silence the voices. But the laughter wouldn’t stop, and the crushing weight of loneliness and failure bore down on her.

You approached cautiously, knowing that Jinx in this state was a minefield. But you also knew you couldn’t leave her alone in her internal storm. "Jinx," you called softly, keeping your voice low and calm. "I’m here, sweets."

She didn’t respond at first, her body tense like a spring about to snap. But as you drew closer, her bright blue eyes, wide and wild, met yours with a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why? Why do you keep coming back? Don’t you get it? I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me like this."

"I’m not here to judge you," you replied gently, sitting down next to her without encroaching too much on her space. "I’m here because I care. Because I know that sometimes, even the strongest people need a breather. And there’s nothing wrong with that."

She let out a bitter laugh, dripping with sarcasm. "A breather? You think I can just... breathe and everything will be fine? That’s not how my head works. It’s... broken. Everything’s broken."

Your eyes softened at the pain in her words, the self-loathing and anger intertwining dangerously. Without much thought, you reached out, lightly touching her hand, hoping the physical contact might ground her somehow.

"Maybe you can’t fix everything right away," you said softly, "but at least you’re not alone in this boat. I’m on board with you, and I’m not getting off, even if we hit an iceberg." You joked to lighten the tense atmosphere.

She looked at your hand on hers, and for a moment, it seemed like she would pull away. But instead, her trembling fingers closed around yours, with a grip that betrayed just how desperately she needed something—someone—to understand her.

"Why do you care?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m a mess. Everything I touch... I ruin."

"Because you’re more than your mistakes," you said, squeezing her hand gently. "You’re strong, creative, and even if the world doesn’t understand you, I want to be here for you, to help you see that, even when everything gets tough."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice breaking as she murmured, "I don’t know if I can do it... but thank you... for not giving up on me."

You smiled softly, leaning closer to her. "I’ll never give up on you. And you know what? Let’s make a deal. Today was a bad day, but just for today, we’ll do whatever you want. How about we start with some ice cream?"

Her eyes lit up slightly, though there was still a shadow of doubt in her expression. "Ice cream? Really?"

"Serious business," you said, smiling a little more. "Pick your favorite flavor. We’ll go get it, and then we can do whatever you want. You can draw, launch rockets, blow things up—whatever makes you feel better."

"Can I dye your hair blue?" she asked, her tone teasing but her eyes hopeful.

"Anything but that," you corrected, not quite understanding her obsession with wanting to dye your hair.

She burst out laughing, pressing a hard kiss to your cheek. "Just kidding, hon. I love everything about you, even your boring dark hair."

"Hey!" you playfully patted her shoulder.

Suddenly, her smile faded again, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.

"But what if everything keeps going wrong?"

"Then I’ll be here to pick up the pieces with you," you said, gently stroking her hand. "You’re not alone, sweets. Not today, not any day."

She launched herself into your arms, hugging you tightly, her body trembling slightly. "Thank you..." she whispered against your neck, clinging to you as if you were her anchor in a storm. And in that moment, you knew the only thing that mattered was her feeling your presence, your unwavering support.

Vi

Vi’s mind was still trapped in the ring, replaying the final moments of that crucial fight. She had bet everything on it—her money, her pride, her reputation. Everything hung by a thread, and she had lost. The cheers had faded, leaving only the echo of failure resonating in her head.

She limped back to her hideout, her knuckles bloodied and her jaw clenched. Dropping onto the worn-out sofa, she let out a frustrated growl, covering her face with a hand as she tried to contain the fury and humiliation. She had risked so much, and now it was all gone.

The whispers of her defeat spread like wildfire. You knew Vi wasn’t one to admit defeat easily, nor to ask for help. So, with a heart full of concern, you went to find her, worried about her state.

The door creaked open as you stepped inside. "Vi," you called gently, finding her on the couch, shoulders tense and gaze fixed on the floor. You approached cautiously and sat on the floor in front of her, your chin resting on your hands as you looked at her intently. "Are you okay?"

"I don’t need your pity," she snapped, her voice sharp but laced with vulnerability. "I’m fine. Just... need a moment."

"Vi," you said softly, "it’s just one loss. You’re incredible in the ring, babe, but you can’t expect to win every time. Besides, we learn more from our mistakes than from our victories. It’s okay."

"No, it’s not okay," she shot back, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze, her blue eyes filled with frustration. "I bet everything on that fight. Everything. And now I have nothing."

"That’s why I’m here," you responded, sitting beside her and gently taking her bloodied hand in yours, inspecting it with care. "You don’t have to carry this alone. Let me help you."

"I don’t want your help," she protested, trying to pull her hand away, but you held on firmly. "I don’t need saving. I can handle this."

"Vi, don’t be stubborn," you chided, your voice firm yet warm. "I care about you, and I’m not going to stand by while you drown over something we can fix together."

Her gaze softened, a mix of wounded pride and unspoken gratitude in her eyes. "I can’t take your money," she muttered, looking down again. "It’s not fair to you."

"Babe, if the roles were reversed, I know you’d do the same for me," you reminded her. "This isn’t about fairness or debt. It’s about caring for someone I love."

The last word hung in the air, making Vi look up again. "You... love me?" she whispered, as if it was something she hadn’t allowed herself to hear before.

"Love you? I’m crazy about you, woman!" you admitted with a chuckle, gently squeezing her hand. "And because of that, I’m going to help you through this. Take the money, just this once. It’s not weakness to accept help, Vi. It’s strength to know when you need someone."

She let out a deep sigh, her body relaxing slightly as the tension began to ease. "Alright," she murmured finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I’ll take your help... just this once."

"That’s all I needed to hear," you said, smiling softly as you caressed her hand. "We’ll get through this, together."

Vi looked at you, and for the first time that night, a faint smile curved her lips. "Thank you," she said, leaning toward you. Her hand suddenly slid to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

You looked at her, a mix of confusion and amusement on your face. She just shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What? It’s my way of saying thanks," Vi defended, following it up with a loud slap.

Laughing, you climbed onto her lap, leaning in close to her mouth, "Well, if I’d known your gratitude was this charming, I’d hope for favors more often."

Vi leaned in and kissed you, a tender kiss that spoke of gratitude and something deeper, needing no words. "I love you," she murmured against your lips.

"And I love you," you whispered, your lips still brushing hers.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn's office was silent, the only sound breaking the stillness was the soft scratch of her pencil against paper as she reviewed the reports that had come in. It had been a particularly difficult day for her. The weight of the decisions she'd had to make hung heavily on her shoulders, and her mind couldn't stop replaying the latest case she had been handling. Even though she tried to maintain her composure, you knew Caitlyn wasn't invincible.

You approached cautiously, gently tapping on the door before stepping inside. "Cait," you called softly, seeing her immersed in her work, her eyes glued to the desk, but her rigid posture betrayed her exhaustion.

She looked up and forced a smile. "Don’t worry, everything’s under control," she said, her voice slightly tenser than usual.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched her with concern. "I know you're working hard, Cait, but this isn’t just about work, is it?"

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes narrowing as if fighting herself not to admit what was clearly troubling her. "It’s nothing. Just... tough cases. Nothing you need to worry about."

You knew her too well. Something wasn’t right. Caitlyn always maintained her facade of strength, never showing vulnerability, but you knew even she had limits. You decided to step closer, gently removing the papers from her hands and sitting on her desk, right in front of her, catching her off guard. Her hands instinctively found your thighs, her fingers pressing into your skin as a silent sign of her pent-up stress.

"You're not doing this alone tonight, Cait," you told her firmly. "I know you feel the pressure, but you don’t have to carry it all by yourself."

She tried to smile, but the gesture only highlighted her fatigue. "I can't afford to show weakness. Everyone expects me to have the answers."

"That’s precisely what makes you human," you replied softly, cradling her face and appreciating her delicate features. "The burden of leadership, the tough decisions... it can’t all rest on you. If you need a break, you’ll take one. If you need to talk, I’m here."

Caitlyn remained silent, her gaze now locked onto yours, as if considering your words for the first time. You could see her defenses slowly crumbling, her breathing easing into a calmer rhythm. "Sometimes I feel like no one understands... how hard it is to keep everything together, always being the one expected to know what to do."

"I understand," you said, gently holding the hand that gripped your thigh. "And you don’t always have to have all the answers, Cait. It’s okay to feel lost. You can lean on me for these things and anything else."

She didn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you, and for once, her face displayed a vulnerability she rarely showed. Finally, she sighed, letting the tension in her face melt away.

"I know," she murmured, almost as a confession. "Sometimes it’s just hard not to feel like a burden."

"You’re never a burden to me," you assured her, leaning in and wrapping your arms around her, your fingers tenderly running through her hair. She responded with a soft sigh of relief. "You’re the strongest person I know, Cait. And that strength doesn’t make you invulnerable. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You carry so much responsibility and expectation, and you handle it as best you can. You can share that with me too, love. I’m not in your life just to enjoy your company and admire your beautiful face."

With an intense gaze, Caitlyn gently squeezed your hand, displaying a rare tenderness. "Thank you," she whispered, her tone much softer than usual. "Thank you for this. For always being there when I need it. For knowing what I need when I don’t even know myself."

You moved a little closer and, without thinking, kissed her forehead, a warm and comforting gesture. "I’ll always be here, Cait. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to rest in your presence. And although the day's worries wouldn't vanish immediately, there was something about that small gesture, that silent connection between you two, that made her feel less alone. She knew that, no matter what, she would always have a refuge in you.

Jayce

The door creaked open, and instantly, the tension that Jayce carried with him filled the room like an unwelcome guest. He stood in the doorway, his figure worn down as if each step of his day had chipped away at his strength. His face was a canvas of frustration and exhaustion, the lines of weariness on his forehead barely hidden by his tousled hair. The warm light of home contrasted sharply with the cold night air, but even the comforting ambiance seemed powerless against the heavy burden he bore.

Without a word, you moved towards him, your presence a sanctuary in the storm he was weathering. You gently took his cold hands in yours and led him to the couch, where he sank down with a deep, weary sigh. The weight of the day clung to him, a cloak of responsibility and fatigue. He barely acknowledged you as you spoke.

"Rough day?" Your voice was gentle, laced with concern.

Jayce exhaled sharply, his exhaustion evident as he turned his head to you. "More than you can imagine." His tone was rough, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Viktor and I... the experiment in the lab was a disaster. Then, the Council meeting... a complete mess. I’m not even sure how I made it back here tonight." His voice cracked for a moment, followed by a bitter laugh. "And tomorrow? I have to give that damned speech to the entire city. I haven’t even started writing it."

The air felt thick, laden with everything he couldn't put into words. You squeezed his hand, holding it with a tenderness that cut through the fog of his mind. "Breathe, Jayce. You don’t have to solve everything at once. One step at a time."

Instinctively, you sat behind him, guiding him until his back rested against your chest. You began to massage his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly seep from his muscles. Each movement of your fingers seemed to ease his burdens, though his sighs suggested the thoughts still swirled in his mind.

"I’ll help you with the speech," you offered softly. "We’ll write it together. You don’t have to face it all alone."

Jayce closed his eyes briefly, as if clinging to your words to prevent drowning in his thoughts. "But... it all depends on me. If I screw this up, the consequences are massive. I can’t afford to fail." His voice broke, and he sat up abruptly, anxiety gripping him once more.

"It’s just a speech, Jayce. It doesn’t define you." You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him from behind. "What matters most to me is that it doesn’t destroy you. The city needs you, yes. But you need yourself too."

A long sigh escaped his chest, a release of some of the weight he'd been carrying. "How do you stay so calm through all of this? How do you have the patience to listen to my problems over and over?" His tone softened, a realization of what your presence meant to him.

"Because I love you, you big lug. And because I respect you," you said without hesitation. "Now... first things first. Dinner. I made your favorite." You whispered in his ear, the warmth of your embrace surrounding him, offering a sliver of peace. "Then, I’ll draw you a bath. You need to relax, to stop thinking about everything for a while. We’ll have dinner together, and afterward, we’ll stay up as long as you need. I’ll help with the speech. And if you need to rehearse all night, we will. The important thing is you’re not facing it alone. I’m here, Jayce, because I know how much this means to you."

Jayce let the silence hang for a moment, absorbing your words, your support the anchor he desperately needed. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his face finally showing signs of easing. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, a small pout forming on his lips.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my spoiled giant baby," you teased with a soft laugh, cupping his face with care.

Jayce chuckled, a low, grateful sound that was music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, feeling the anxiety that had gripped him start to dissipate. "Can we stay like this a little longer?" he asked quietly, his tone vulnerable, more human than ever.

"Of course, love," you whispered. "There’s no rush tonight."

And there, between tender laughs and promises of unwavering support, time seemed to pause. In that moment, there was only the two of you, the warmth of home, and the certainty that, no matter what the next day brought, you would face it together.

Ekko

The sound of gears grinding and tools sparking filled Ekko's workshop, a familiar symphony that usually brought him a sense of calm. But today, the rhythm was frantic, almost as if he believed that focusing on the intricate mechanical details could help him outrun the weight pressing down on his heart. It wasn’t working.

"Ekko, what’s wrong?" Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the tension hanging thick in the air. You could sense something was off, not just from the hurried way he moved but from the pallor that had taken over his face in the past few hours.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers continued their precise dance over the wires and components, but there was a distant look in his eyes, a clear sign that his mind was far from the task at hand. Finally, he looked up, and though he tried to hide it, you could see the frustration and pain etched into his features.

"Things are... out of control," he admitted, his voice heavy. "The people of Zaun keep dying, and we can’t do anything about it. The illnesses are spreading, the air is becoming unbreathable, and the solutions... they seem further away than ever. How am I supposed to lead them when I have nothing to offer?"

His question lingered in the air, a cry of desperation in the stillness. Ekko had borne the weight of leading the Firelights since their inception. It was his strength, his refuge, yet also his greatest burden. Every day, he witnessed more of his people falling victim to the oppression and the harsh realities of Zaun, the toxic air swallowing those he cared about, and the seeming futility of their efforts gnawed at his resolve. What could one do when everything seemed stacked against them?

"Ekko," you approached him, gently taking his hands in yours. "Listen to me. I know what you're thinking. I know it feels like everything is collapsing, like there’s no way out. But you're not alone in this. You have the Firelights, and you have me. Caitlyn Kiramman might be able to help with this problem."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, confused. He knew Caitlyn, as an Enforcer, symbolized the oppressive system that had kept Zaun in misery, but he also knew you didn’t speak lightly. You must have had a plan.

"I don’t trust Piltover," Ekko muttered, his tone firm. "Or their damn Enforcers. How am I supposed to ask someone like Caitlyn for help? After everything they’ve done to us?"

"I know," you said, gently stroking his hands to calm him, "but hear me out. You're not just asking Caitlyn for help. You’re asking the person who owes me a few favors. Trust me. I think we can secure some supplies, maybe some of the medicines we need, at least to keep us going for a while. Something to help the Firelights keep fighting. Don’t see it as surrendering, Ekko; it’s a step towards giving us a real chance to make our voices heard."

For a moment, Ekko stared at the ground, lost in thought. It was clear he struggled to trust anyone outside his circle, especially someone like Caitlyn, who embodied Piltover’s oppressive power. But your words resonated with him, and for the first time that day, something inside him eased slightly.

"Maybe you’re right," he finally said, his voice low, as if only partially convinced. "But this... it can’t just be words. We need to do something real, something that actually makes a difference."

"We will," you assured him with a soft smile, trying to instill a bit of hope. "Together, step by step. Let’s start by talking to Caitlyn and see what we can secure. I don’t know how, but I believe we’ll make it happen."

Ekko looked at you, and for a moment, everything in his expression changed. The usual anger gave way to a mixture of gratitude and, perhaps, a hint of relief. He was exhausted, but the idea that not everything was lost gave him a tiny spark of hope.

"Thank you, babe," he murmured, his voice softer than before. "I don’t know how you do it. You always know what to say."

"That’s because I’ve learned how to deal with your stubborn, grumpy self," you said with a light laugh. "Now, how about we take a stroll through the city? Maybe a few hours of disconnecting will help."

A trace of a smile appeared on his face, though still tinged with fatigue. "What? Are you planning to make me forget all this by tagging the walls with graffiti?"

"Exactly," you responded with a mischievous grin. "That way, at least for a while, we can forget the world and do whatever we want."

Ekko finally gave in, his soft laugh filling the air as he grabbed his hoverboard. "You know, that sounds like a great idea. Let’s go before I change my mind."

And as you wandered the streets of Zaun, the weight on his shoulders didn’t entirely vanish, but for a while, Ekko could relax, paint his frustrations on the walls, and most importantly, remember that he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, all it took was stepping back and breathing, even if just for a moment.

Silco

The air in Silco's office was heavy, thick with the unmistakable scent of Zaun: metal, sweat, and burnt chemicals. Yet beyond those familiar odors, the room was saturated with the tension of recent events. The sting of failure clung to him, unsettling the usually composed mastermind. His meticulously laid plans had unraveled, and while his followers proclaimed loyalty, cracks in their devotion were becoming apparent. Zaun teetered on the brink of internal rebellion. The Firelights, the Enforcers, even the streets themselves seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

But what truly unsettled him, what gnawed at his very core, was the ever-present specter of betrayal, the fear of losing those who mattered most. In these moments, when chaos felt imminent, you chose to enter.

Silco stood with his back to you, staring out at the city’s dim lights through the window. You could sense the disquiet within him. His silhouette was somber, almost ghostly, with one hand resting on the glass. He seemed like a man who had lost faith in everything around him. Without hesitation, you approached him with a calmness that contrasted starkly with the storm raging within him.

"Silco," you began, your voice gentle but resolute. You refused to let his fragility consume him, not now. "We've faced this before. You don’t have to bear it all alone."

At first, he remained silent. The tension in his frame was palpable, and you could tell he was fighting a battle he wasn’t ready to share. Yet, you knew that struggle all too well. Beneath his layers of hatred and ambition lay a man as broken and vulnerable as any other.

Finally, he turned toward you, his eyes, usually burning with disdain, now dulled. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice low, roughened by a restrained fury. "This isn’t like before. It’s not just about winning anymore. It’s about maintaining control, about not losing everything. If I fail now, all we’ve built will be for nothing. What’s looming isn’t just a challenge—it’s war, and I need to be ready."

You stepped closer, studying the exhaustion etched into his face. His words were a glimpse into the turmoil that consumed him. "You will be ready. We will be ready. But isolating yourself in this downward spiral won’t help."

Silco’s gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability surfaced. He appeared more human, less the monster Zaun feared. But his pride fought to keep that part of him hidden.

"I don’t need your pity," he said, though his words lacked conviction, a feeble defense against the truth you were unveiling. "Spare me the empty reassurances."

"They’re not empty," you replied, your voice steady. "I know what you’re feeling. This isn’t just about controlling Zaun. This is about you."

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken truths. Silco’s brow furrowed, not in anger but in contemplation. "It’s a war I can’t win. The city hates me, even my own daughter—"

"Don’t speak of her as if you’re some monster," you interrupted gently but firmly. "Jinx needs you, and you need her. This war isn’t just against Piltover, Silco. It’s against yourself. And if you keep fighting it alone, you will lose."

The room was still, the weight of your words settling in the air. Silco’s expression softened, touched by a realization he couldn’t deny. He wasn’t accustomed to being seen so clearly, to having his inner battles laid bare.

You took another step forward and, without allowing him time to withdraw, you took his hand. "You don’t have to do this alone," you whispered. "Not now, not ever."

For a brief moment, conflict flickered across his features, but then it happened—he relented. It wasn’t the surrender of a defeated man but of someone willing to trust, if only for a moment, that there was more to life than his solitary fight.

"I don’t know why you persist in keeping me upright," he murmured, his voice softer, laced with weariness. "Sometimes… sometimes it feels like too much."

"It’s not," you assured him without hesitation. "We’ll face it together. I won’t let you fall."

Silco said nothing more, but he didn’t pull away as you held his hand more firmly, a silent acceptance of your comfort. And for the first time in a long while, the cold steel of his demeanor cracked, if only for a fleeting second.

Mel

Mel's balcony was as sleek and cold, a testament to her meticulous nature. The soft glow of lanterns cast a gentle light over the cityscape, illuminating the endless sea of Piltover's lights below. Yet, amidst the serenity of the night, an unseen storm brewed within her. Tonight, her mind wasn't consumed with political maneuvers or strategic plans. Something far deeper gnawed at her: the weight of her ambitions had begun to manifest in ways she hadn't anticipated, threatening to fracture the carefully constructed facade of her life.

She stood by the railing, gazing out at the city that never slept, as if the twinkling lights could somehow chase away the growing void in her heart. You could see it—the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the railing a little too tightly. She was a picture of composed authority, yet the subtle cracks in her armor betrayed the turmoil within.

"Mel..." Your voice, soft yet firm, broke the silence. You approached from behind, your footsteps light but deliberate. You didn't need to be loud; she had always been attuned to your presence, as if you existed in a part of her consciousness she couldn't ignore.

Mel turned slowly, her face a mask of unyielding calm, but her eyes... her eyes told a different story. They held a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea she wasn't ready to voice. "What is it?" Her voice was cool, almost detached, but you knew better. The detachment was a shield, one she had crafted over years of political warfare.

"What’s wrong?" you asked again, your gaze unwavering as you closed the distance between you. You could sense her struggle, her reluctance to admit that something was amiss. "I can see it, Mel. You're not okay."

She sighed—a sound so heavy it seemed to carry the weight of the city. It wasn't frustration; it was the exhaustion of someone who had carried too much for too long. "It’s Piltover. My role in the Council... I can't keep up with it all," she admitted, her words slow, measured, as if each one was a reluctant confession. "I’ve been playing this game for so long, but the pieces are moving in directions I can’t control. And..."

Her voice faltered, and she didn't need to continue. You understood. This wasn't about Piltover alone. It was about her, about the toll her ambitions had taken on her soul. Here, on this balcony, she wasn't the indomitable Mel Medarda. She was a woman, weary and yearning for something she couldn't quite name.

"Mel, not everything needs to be under control. Not everything needs to be perfect," you said gently, stepping closer. "You can handle what’s happening in Piltover, but you don’t have to carry it all on your own."

Her eyes darted away, as if looking at you would make her break. She was so used to being the one in control, to bearing the burdens without complaint. "And if I fail... what then? What’s left after all of this? I've given everything to Piltover… everything."

Her voice trembled with a sadness that cut through you. Despite her steely exterior, you knew there was a part of her that longed for something more—connection, peace, perhaps even love. But the world she had built around herself left little room for such indulgences.

"If you fail, Mel, you’ll have the chance to start over. You don’t have to keep fighting for something that's slipping through your fingers," you said, your voice steady as you reached for her. "Sometimes, letting go of what we fear losing the most is what sets us free."

Mel's eyes met yours, and in them, you saw a vulnerability she rarely showed. She wasn’t used to conversations like this, to empathy. But in your gaze, she found something she hadn’t seen in a long time: safety, support, and perhaps... the promise of something different. Something better.

"I know it’s not easy," you continued, your hand gently brushing her arm. "But you don’t have to carry the weight of Piltover alone. You have people who respect you, who admire you. There are other ways to move forward without losing yourself in the process."

The silence that followed was thick, but not oppressive. It was as if the night itself was holding its breath, waiting for her response. For a moment, Mel said nothing. Then, her lips, always so carefully set in lines of authority, softened. "And if I fail… what happens to you?"

"You won’t fail," you said with a conviction that only you could have. "But even if you did, I’d be right here, helping you rebuild. Because what really matters isn’t the power or the control. What really matters is you, Mel."

For a second, she looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. The iron-willed woman everyone knew, the strategist, the leader, was now gazing at you with a newfound sense of recognition. And in that moment, she allowed herself a rare indulgence: she let her guard down.

"Maybe... maybe it’s not always about winning," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "Maybe you're right."

You smiled softly, knowing that Mel had just taken a step towards something beyond ambition—towards her humanity.

Sevika

The night had fallen with an oppressive stillness, but Sevika couldn’t find peace. The hours had dragged her into a whirlwind of stress and frustration. Each minute felt heavier than the last, and the air around her seemed thick, as if the city itself was pressing down on her chest. The decisions she had to make, the moves she had to plan, the constant need to watch over and protect her people… all of it had left her exhausted. But what weighed her down the most was the lack of control over her own life.

The shadows of the streets seemed to stretch out, enveloping her with an invisible pressure. Silco, as if things weren’t bad enough, was more erratic than ever, his paranoia brushing the edges of madness. To top it off, Jinx had played one of her twisted jokes: locking her in a room with a bomb that looked ready to explode. Sevika had been on the brink of death, only to discover that the bomb was a cruel joke, the kind only Jinx could conjure. If she had the time, she would have made sure the girl paid for it. She despised feeling vulnerable. But there was more. She had to deal with some of Silco’s men, and her day culminated with a direct punch to the face, leaving a visible mark on her otherwise stoic features.

On any other day, Sevika might have sought solace or at least retreated into the quiet of solitude, but today was different. No matter what she did, the sense of losing control gnawed at her insides. She needed to see you. She needed your presence, your calm way of looking at her and making her feel that everything, even if just for a while, would be okay.

Finally, the door creaked open. The sound of your footsteps was a balm to her weary spirit, and Sevika lifted her gaze. The damp night air lent a melancholic intensity to her eyes, now etched with fatigue and disdain. Though she tried to maintain her tough exterior, you quickly noticed the bruise marking her face.

“What happened?” Your voice, soft yet filled with concern, echoed in the room. Sevika tried to muster a smile, but it was futile.

“Just another day, you know?” she rasped, moving to lean against the table. She wasn’t about to crumble in front of you, but the exasperation in her tone was unmistakable. “Silco’s paranoid as ever. Jinx pulled one of her idiotic pranks… locked me in a room with a fake bomb about to explode. I thought I’d die there, amidst confetti and laughter. And if that wasn’t enough, one of Silco’s guys managed to land a punch on me.”

Your gaze, laced with worry and tenderness, softened instantly. You stepped forward, cupping her face gently, trying to ease the storm swirling inside her. Sevika stood still, unresponsive at first, but the hard lines of her face began to relax, even if only slightly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” you asked, your eyes never leaving hers, your words carrying a silent concern. You knew she hated appearing weak, but it didn’t matter; you would never see her that way. Sevika closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh.

“You know I don’t like to worry you.” Her tone was sharp, but softer than before. She could feel how your warmth affected her in ways she wasn’t ready to admit, but needed more than she was willing to acknowledge.

Without missing a beat, you acted. With a small smile, you stepped back a little, creating some space to prepare something that might bring her some comfort.

“Tonight, I’m making something special for my strong and sexy warrior,” you said, a mix of tenderness and teasing in your voice. “It’s not much, but I know you’ll like it.” You headed to the kitchen, and instead of a typical meal, you decided on something you knew would make Sevika smile: a homemade chocolate cupcake, with a hint of vanilla and a soft cream topping. While the sweet treat took shape, you thought about how this small gesture might lighten the night. The smell of freshly baked chocolate began to fill the air.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a slight smile. “A cupcake?” she asked, almost playfully, though her voice held a softness rarely heard. “Am I a child needing comfort now?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling as you set the table. “Sometimes we all need something simple and sweet.” You playfully tapped her nose.

With the cupcake served and a cup of aromatic tea, the two of you sat together, letting the calm settle for a moment. As she savored the cupcake, your fingers brushed hers gently, as if that simple touch could convey something deeper. Sevika’s gaze, usually so hard and closed off, softened as it met yours.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost with a humility that was unlike her. “I needed this more than I thought.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said with a gentle smile, intertwining your fingers with hers.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter what was happening in the outside world. For an instant, everything else faded away. Only that small space between the two of you existed, where love and understanding felt like the answer to all the burdens Sevika carried within.

[phantom-thieves-official]

can I say something controversial. I think by interpreting the Maruki reality stuff w Akechi as 'Joker's greatest wish was for Akechi to live bc they're in love!' is kind of a poor read of the text. Not because I don't ship them or whatever, my shipping opinions aren't relevant to this post. But because I think it overlooks a big part of Joker's actual character. He wanted Akechi to live because he saw an innocent person taken advantage of and discarded. He saw someone who needed help. You can even go further with this and say, okay, Akechi wasn't an innocent person - he killed people and tried to kill Joker himself. And what does that mean for Joker's character? It means he saw someone who had done terrible things - some of them to Joker, personally - and he still came away from Shido's palace with the understanding that while he did bad things, Akechi was a victim of Shido's, too. Good, or bad, or in between, that he still was someone in need of help. Joker wanted to help Akechi. He wanted to give Akechi a chance to make things right, and to show him that they didn't have to enemies - that Akechi didn't have to fight the Phantom Thieves, and he didn't have to be alone; that it's never too late to change course and be a better person and that Akechi's life didn't have to be one of hatred and isolation. He could atone for his crimes, still take down shido, and have a group of people to support him. After the terrible things Akechi did as Shido's lapdog, after he sold the thieves out and plotted to murder Joker. Joker still just wanted to help him. Joker saw that while Akechi was undoubtedly a criminal he was also a victim, and there was something in there worth trying to save. But you know what? He couldn't do it. Right as he seemed to be getting through to Akechi, he was killed by Shido's cognitive version.

And so when Maruki's reality brings Akechi back, it means imo that Joker feels guilty. Out of all the people he'd been able to help, Akechi was the one person he just couldn't save. It's not because they're in love, it's because Joker regrets how things worked out. He regrets that he didn't get through to Akechi sooner. He regrets failing a vulnerable and victimized person whom he feels he could have helped. Even if that person hated Joker. Even if that person had previously tried to kill Joker with his own hands. Joker's sense of justice is imo his biggest character trait, followed closely by his massive savior complex. Of course he wanted Akechi to live. Because in Joker's eyes, despite what he'd done to hurt Joker, Akechi was still a victim. He was still someone Joker should have been able to save.

This all comes to a head when Joker chooses to deny Maruki's reality. He's choosing to live with the guilt; to accept he can't save everyone no matter how hard he tries. He's moving beyond the savior complex and recognizing that sometimes, some people are really just unreachable, or don't want to be helped. It's a moment not only of characterization, but of character growth for him.

anyway that's my hot take. by viewing the third semester through a shipping lens exclusively you lose a huge point of characterization for Joker bc you overlook the nuances of Joker's desire to help everyone all the time and the guilt he feels about failing to help Akechi. You misconstrue Joker's desire to help in the first place as coming from a place of love rather than a place of selflessness and justice; a place of 'doing what's right simply because it is the right thing to do.' You miss out on the subtle ways it shows Joker's not biased by hatred or contempt, how despite the heinous things Akechi has done, and despite the harm done to him directly at Akechi's hand, Joker is still capable of seeing that Akechi is a victim, too - which in itself shows that Joker's idea of justice isn't motivated by personal relationships, grudges, or biases.

[theeroins]

If I say that I'm not used to people misinterpreting my favorite characters, I'd be lying. But the way they get so many things wrong about Inho's character is kinda pissing me off because you KNOW that most of them do it to cancel out the possibility of InHun being *something* more than what's shown so far. You don't ship them, that's fair, frankly I don't care. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion UNTIL your opinion is wrong.

Let's talk about a couple of things I've seen being talked about on tiktok (🙄)

“Inho joined the games because ilnam said that it'd basically be more fun to play than to watch so he followed his example." loud incorrect buzzer ! Inho has joined the games before, and not only that, he's also a previous winner, so therefore he's very much aware of what it's like to be a part of it, he's experienced them first hand, just like he's experienced the atrocities of it. they've changed him for the worst and possibly caused him a huge trauma —they're the reason he's lost faith in humanity after all— so, why would he crave to relive it just for the thrill of it? i, personally doubt he even enjoys watching the game.

“Inho didn't look at Gihun with love, he likes to watch him suffer” Short answer is no. He doesn't like to watch him suffer, neither he looked at him with love, not the pure kind of love at least. Two things can be true at once. Inho spent half the season staring at Gihun because everything about the man intrigued him; His determination, his stubbornness, his kindness, his hope, his heart that's full of love despite the pain he suffered, even the pain in his eyes every time someone got eliminated in front of him as if it was the first time it had happened, as if the cruelty of it all surprised him every damn time. How can someone, who's been through the same things Inho has been through, be the polar opposite of him?

now, the reason(s) that I think Inho actually joined the games for..

(yes I am an Inhun shipper, does that make my opinion a little biased? maybe. do i still believe I'm right? absofuckinglutely.)

Let me clarify this: Inho is NOT a good man, no matter the redemption arc he might get in s3, he'll continue to be a terrible person because nothing will ever erase the blood he's spilled and the evil men he's worked for. BUT at the same time, he's not ALL bad, not like the VIPS and ilnam. See, Inhun are the average "yin-yang" trope in fictional romance, (which I eat up every time and I find it very interesting when it's done the right way, don't get me wrong) Inho is bad but there's some goodness somewhere deep inside him. And the only person who's brought it to the surface is Gihun. Sure, he does think Gihun is naive, but he's also the only person who's actually challenged him, who's "forced" him to get his stupid head out of the dirt and look around him, even for a short while and Inho definitely liked what he saw. Honestly, it wasn't even that hard for Gihun to do so because the goodness in Inho wanted and waited for someone to pull him out of the dirt, he wished for someone, something to give him hope for humanity or.. anything. Anything that'll help him escape from his misery.

You can definitely argue that he joined the games to befriend Gihun, to gain his trust and stop his plans when the time comes, which is half true. But keep in mind that he needed to justify his choice to join the games. He's not a VIP nor the mastermind to simply get to do that without consequences. He's the frontman, the one who controls and manages everything. He's needed for the games to work and go by smoothly and successfully without unnecessary losses and problems. Gihun would only cause problems, Inho knew that very well and yet he chose to put him in it once again. He recklessly made that choice, risking pretty much everything because of his inner conflict. A part of him wanted Gihun to prove himself to him, that there's indeed good that'll save the world and the rest of him wanted to prove to Gihun that everything he so strongly believes in is merely a fantasy.

Joining the games and befriending Gihun was the only way for Inho to see the real him, without the heroic mask he puts on every time he faces the frontman. I think he believed that someone as extraordinary as Gihun will either break in front of him and he will end up disappointed by the human kind once again, or Gihun will change everything about the way he thinks for the better. But the problem is that Inho hopes for both of those things at the same time.

And that was Inho's arc in season 2. His inner conflict and how it will affect him, the game and Gihun later on.

[its-a-me-mango]

THANK YOU ALL FOR AN AMAZING YEAR! HERE'S TO MANY MORE!

Alllright, final thing to close off today, and what better than with a great big THANK YOU to everyone for sticking with me for a whole year! Regardless of if you’ve been around since I first joined or if you only just followed me today, thank you so much for your support of me and my work. Knowing there are so many fantastic and wonderful individuals who all enjoy what I make is just indescribable, I get to wake up and enjoy creating things I love for the series I love so dearly all while so many amazing people enjoy what I make too. I really can’t put into words how thankful I am for everyone who follows me but genuinely from the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you all for an amazing year and here’s hoping for many more to come!

Now, I do have a few special dedications to a few certain individuals, if I didn’t get the chance to include you PLEASE don’t think that I don’t value you in any way! There were so many cool and talented people that I wanted to thank but I simply didn’t have time to do so! You are all so important to me and it does kill me a little that I can’t thank everyone, but I am just one guy at the end of the day so again please don’t take it personally, I am still so thankful for everyone and I want you to know this. <3

ANYWAY LONG ASS BLOCK OF TEXT UNDER THE READ MORE

So, in no order in particular

@lizaluvsthis @shygirl4991 @b-r-i-n-g-x - I’m putting you all together as one because I always see you guys working as a group so it feels wrong to split you guys up lol. You were all some of the first people I ever saw in the SMG4 fandom and your contributions inspired me so much to make my own stuff too! Everything you guys make always has so much heart and soul put into it, Brewing Romance, Split into 3’s, Gay Ogres, they’re all some of the first projects I remember seeing and for that I wanna thank you guys for motivating me to make and create my own things within this fandom! Even if you guys aren’t as active now or have moved on from those projects, I still hold them dear to me so keep making and creating because you guys are all so amazing at it! <3

@mothsbakery - Moth my beloved friend, I don’t know where to start, when I first got into SMG4, I was so worried about sharing it with my friends because I was worried it would somehow get turned against me in some way (blame that damn trauma lol), so having you take a passing interest in it was such a major relief to me. I’m so glad I’ve been able to sit down with you and watch the few episodes that we have because they’ve been so much fun! I’m so glad that we’re friends even after all these years. I know I’m not always the best at keeping in touch but I do genuinely appreciate your friendship and all that we’ve done together. Please keep making and creating and enjoying what you love, seeing you come to my DM’s with your newest musical piece is always such a joy to listen to and it’s been so wonderful to watch you improve over the years! Keep being amazing Moth, I’ll chat to you soon I promise! <3

@strange0-0storm - STOOOORM!!! (POINTING AT YOU POINTING AT YOU) FREAK!!!!/J I’m kidding lol, Storm I am so glad I’ve gotten the chance to talk with you, even if it's brief, you are so fun to talk to that I can’t wait to get the chance to chat with you again about OC’s or just anything really! Your work is always so yummy, whether it's SMG4, Gravity Falls, Popee The Performer, and more, your art is always just so full of character and it just makes me wanna keep doing what I’m doing and it helps me not worry about branching out at some point to something else. No matter what I will always come back to your work because it's so amazing and it’s even better knowing it’s made but such an equally amazing person, stay awesome Storm! (also RhythmDoctor 4 life they should kiss and make out more JHBBSGHBSGH) <3

@bluesbox - Blue! Dude you are so freaking cool I cannot put it into words, not only is your work fantastic and such a joy to interact with, but you’re also so dedicated to characters lore and interactions that I can’t help but wanna be just like that! I’ll never forget when you first dropped the TSB lore presentation that shit was SO WILD, knowing there's someone who's so invested in other peoples OC’s (including my own!) to such an extent is honestly so amazing, and it really pushes me to invest more time into my own work! Knowing there’s someone out there who genuinely takes so much interest in it is so uplifting, so thank you for always wanting to know more about what I make as well as everyone else, we need more amazing people like you Blue, keep being you! (also PS, the way you give Mango glasses is probably my favourite thing someone has given him, it makes me so happy to see every time, don’t tell anyone shhhhh) <3

@libbytwq - LIBBY, LIBBY OMG I don’t think I’ve ever met another SMG4 fan who just gets the same sense of humor as me so well, I love being terminally on Tumblr and having someone else who is also terminally on Tumblr, it’s so refreshing lmao! Lore not only are you an amazing person to talk to, you are also so insanely talented to match, all of your work has so much charm and passion put into it that I can just sense it with every piece, I always want to know more with your characters like I NEED the full SMGL:E lore or else I will explode and die, that’s how good you are at getting people invested in your work! You’re so great at creating interesting and engaging characters/stories that it motivates me so much with my own work. You have so much love for what you do it’s so wonderful to see, please keep creating forever and always because your work is such an absolute joy to see. I love getting the chance to chat with you so much and I can’t wait to chat with you again, thank you for being such an amazing friend Libby! <3

@hamlos - Hamlos, your work is truly incredible. I really can’t express it enough, it’s so dynamic and flexible in such a beautiful way, everything you make is just so amazing and that's just talking about your art itself, the characters you have are so interesting I always want to know more about them, especially Cardiac I seriously love him so much and having him paired with Mango is so wonderful, they really go together so well! I’ve never had anyone go so crazy (positive) over my characters before and It’s so amazing to see, every time you come to me with your amazing work it’s always such a nice thing to see! I know I am not always the best at responding but I do always see and read everything you send me and it always leaves me with a big smile on my face. Even if you’re not super into SMG4 right now, thank you for all that you’ve done and all that you’ve made for me, HeartBeet will always have a special place in my heart and I hope it does for you too, they are gay after all lol. <3

@neo91502 @hexsie @aquaproductions - Grouping you all together even though you all couldn’t be more unique and individual, every single one of you is so special and amazing to talk to, I legit get so excited any time one of you joins a VC with me because all of you are so fun to hang out with for so many reasons! Neo omg you are honestly such a nice person to chat to and be around, you’re always so fun to hang out with and you’ve convinced me to sit down one day and listen to Epic the Musical because every time you go crazy over the word Epic, I can’t help but find it so cute lol. Nova your obsession with Hex3 is so sweet and I’m genuinely glad you’re having so much fun with it, seeing you go on rambling about your OC’s will always be such a joy to see and you know what yes one day I will draw Hex3 just for you, gimme a second though (dies first /j). And Aqua, I had no idea how much of a sweetheart you were to talk to, you are honestly so cool and I’m so glad to have you in my DM’s sending me amazing fanart that you know I’ll like, thank you so much for being so awesome and I’m giving you platonic smooches right back at ya so watch out!!! All of you are again so amazing and I can’t wait to keep chatting with all of you! <3

MY BELOVED WHO SHAN’T BE NAMED BUT I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS!!! - Hai babe, listen, I can’t believe the whole time you’ve been dating me I’ve been an SMG4 fan, that must be so embarrassing to you lol /j but thank you so much forever and always for sticking with me. You are truly the light of my life, I treasure every moment we spend together and I am waiting for the future to come so that I can spend it with you forever and always. Thank you for not only indulging in my interests with me, but for enjoying me for who I am, everytime you call me cute for getting giddy over SMG4 it honestly makes my heart flutter and it reminds me of why I love you so much, I wouldn’t be who I am without you and I hope you can say the same thing for me. I cannot wait to get the chance to see you again in person, I need to kiss you sloppy style soooooo bad it's making me bark and growl grrr grrr bARK BARK BARK anyway I love you so much and I always will. (I will forever kiss you for getting me Smug I can’t believe you got him, he’s like a fucked up and evil son to me) <3

@ominus-potato @theartistisme43 @coralalala64 - Grouping you all together even though I have different things to say about all of you, but regardless, all of you are such amazingly talented people that I’d love to get to chat with you all properly one day, even if I’ve talked with you guys a bit it’s not enough! I’d love to get to know you guys better at some point lol. Ominus your work is just so good I can’t help but feel happy anytime I see it. I promise one day we will meet at a convention, I’m so mad I missed you once I won’t let it happen again! Cantro, your work is incredible!!! Every time I see it I’m so amazed with what you’ve made that it just gets me excited to see what else you can create, I am manifesting with all my strength that if you do ever decide to apply as a SMG4 machinima artist, that you get it because god damn you deserve it! And Coral, THE CREATURE CREATOR!!! I love your lil creatures so much, and OMG you have to teach me how to do such amazing pencil work, your work always inspires me so much and I’m so glad I’ve gotten the chance to chat with you a lil, your gif collection is truly frightening but in the best way possible. Again all of you are so amazing so please keep doing what you’re best at! <3

@tiredsmashbros - Tomm, Mr Tiredsmashbros, holy shit where do I even start with you. First of all, I would probably not be thanking half the people in this piece if not for you, I know how scary setting up a server was for you but I will forever be so thankful that you did. Finally getting the chance to chat with not only you, but so many amazing people in the SMG4 fandom has been an absolute joy and I am forever thankful for you for creating such an open and accepting space, you and Radiant are seriously so awesome for all the work you’ve put into that place. It’s from your server that i’ve learnt how wonderful and generous you are as a person, I really cannot think of anyone kinder than you Tomm, the way you always have an essay planned for every piece of fanart you get, from just your overall positive attitude, I am so glad I’ve finally gotten the chance to meet you after just being a fan of your work for so long. Your work has been such an inspiration to me and you’ve always been someone I wanted to chat with and the fact that I am now is!!! Crazy!!! I can’t believe you were scared of me at one point lol. Anyway thank you Tomm for being such a fantastic friend overall, I need to know TSB’s lore right now, can you whisper it to me I promise I’ll keep it a secret, regardless stay awesome dude, you deserve nothing but joy and happiness forever and always. Qwah Tuh (also Burgerfruit beloved, they should get weirder /j) <3

@doodledev1l - Doodle!!!!! Okay I know this sounds weird but genuinely finding another British SMG4 fan has been so refreshing, not only that but you’re super fun to talk to and be around so it’s even better! Getting the chance to hang out and chat with you is always so fun, I love getting to hear what you’re working on for uni and I always hope that it goes well for you, I know how stressful it can be lol. Regardless, I know you’ll do amazing because I’ve seen how dedicated and talented you are when it comes to your work, again I hope the rest of uni goes well for you because you deserve it, we gotta end your bad luck streak somehow lol. Thank you for being such an amazing person to chat and hang out with, keep up the amazing work dude, I’ll get you a tescos meal deal one day I promise. <3

PHEW, THAT’S EVERYONE, again thank you all so much for sticking by my side for a year! Doesn’t matter what time you showed up, I will always be thankful to know all of you, keep being awesome I love you all. I die now

Mango <3

[virtually-unknown]

I mean, part of the issue with resurrecting dinosaurs is just finding the right remains to resurrect from.

Most dinosaur bones are simply buried too deep to raise without significant effort in excavating them first, and even then the quality and quantity of remains can vary vastly between different dinosaur skeletons. Not much point in raising a skull and single forearm when the rest of the body is missing, and it's especially not worth the effort of mining them out of the rock to do so.

Even if you find a full dinosaur skeleton (or enough similar ones to cobble something together) the fossilization process makes raising them require absurd amounts of power if it will even work at all. Any voids on the interiors of the bones (you know, where you'd normally run the mana channels to bind the things together) will have been packed dense with minerals and petrified. In a lot of skeletons parts of the bones themselves will have eroded away and been replaced with stone. Hell, if you're especially unlucky the whole bone could've eroded away and what you thought was a skeleton is really just a fancy rock filling in where a bone used to be

Ok sure, a petrified bone is way stronger and denser than an ordinary skeleton so it's not like there's no benefit, but you can easily just graft the important bits onto a different skeleton and get the strength and damage output you want without lumbering around with tons of rock embedded in the parts of the skeleton that don't need it. Fossilized teeth are cheap and can still punch through plate armor in an ordinary jaw that fits them. Personally, I've had great success grafting mammoth tusks onto the skeletons of modern elephants. Literal tons of osseous power on a body already designed to use it, doesn't get much better than that.

If you only want something that looks like a dinosaur for intimidation or the like just build an amalgam like the rest of us. Maybe splurge for a skull if you're feeling fancy. There's just no practical reason to use full fossils out in the real world, no matter what those prissy Marrowlark grads say in their papers. Waste of grant money if you ask me.

Dear necromancers, why would you bother summoning human corpses when dinosaurs are an option

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[adieutristana]

hi, i do! i’ve just yet to receive any requests for vi by herself, but i’d be happy to write this :) thank you for the request!

summary; quiet mornings with vi and her girlfriend.

characters included; vi

tags/warnings; fluff, casual dom vi, butch wife material or whatever they say, domesticity, maaaaybe a bit suggestive?

men and minors dni.

you’re awoken to the smell of breakfast cooking.

the spot next to you is empty, an indent on the mattress from where vi once laid. the light shines through open blinds and you reflexively bring an arm up to cover your eyes. groaning, you turn away from the window to look at the bedside clock: 8:41 am.

you wished vi was still with you, it would’ve been nice to wake up in her arms like usual… oh, well. breakfast is nice too.

you swing your legs over the side of the bed and try to rub the sleep from your eyes, slowly making your way to the kitchen. you’re greeted by the sight of vi’s back turned to you, white sports bra and black sweats. she’s clearly too absorbed to have noticed you, intently working on whatever she’s making.

you approach her slowly, a bit cautiously as to not startle her while she’s over a hot stove, but slowly snake your arms around her waist, pressing your cheek into her shoulder. vi lets out a little ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment, but doesn’t turn around.

“up already, babe?”

she remarks, right hand busy with a frying pan.

“yeah. couldn’t sleep without you there.”

“sorry, sorry. wanted to do something nice for you.”

you hum in acknowledgment, pressing further into vi’s back and grazing one hand over toned abs.

“what are you making?”

“surprise.”

she remarks. vi knows just how much you hate surprises, not knowing things. although you know you could very easily look over vi’s shoulder and see for yourself, that could ruin half of the fun. you simply hold vi from behind her, relishing in the warmth that her body offered you. it was always so peaceful, getting to hold her, to be close to her like this. this morning, it seemed as if time stood still.

vi could be moving throughout the kitchen, you’d seen her do it several times while cooking, but she was also considerate. you knew that she’d never want to ruin your fun. dating vi meant that if she had to give little things up, she would. wether that meant her not moving an inch when you slept for hours on her lap, or staying still while cooking because your arms were around her, vi was sweet.

sweet in a way that not many people got to see.

and yet, you found yourself excited at the prospect of eating breakfast she had prepared because her cooking was always so damn good. not many people would think it, but with vi leading a group of ragtag teens and tweens- as well as being an older sister, she’d learned to cook quite young. she frequently cooked for herself, used whatever scraping the kitchen to throw together something edible.

she hadn’t put too much effort into making her meals nice since the incident on the bridge, until she met you. now she feels as if she has a point to prove. or maybe it’s just that she loves you.

“almost done, cupcake. you just sit down and be patient, okay?”

she says, voice laced with affection. you nod slowly, pouting the slightest bit behind her as you let go of her. but you sit down at her dining table, elbows propped as you observe her. it’s almost effortless the way that she moves. it’s admirable.

vi walks over to you, holding out a plate of simple blueberry pancakes. she knew you had a taste for sweet things. she sits down opposite you after you take the plate, a soft smile playing at her lips.

“are you gonna eat anything?”

you ask before you even pick up your fork. you don’t want to be selfish, not with vi especially.

“i already ate. woke up early today, fixed myself something, and figured you’d be up later.”

she says, pointing to your fork. cueing you to start eating. you do, picking up a knife as well to cut the stack into slices. after covering it in sweet syrup, you take a bite and immediately close your eyes in contentment. this is good.

“you didn’t have to do this, you know…”

“of course i did. i’m your girlfriend, remember?”

you sigh, continuing to eat. swallowing the last of what’s in your mouth before you speak to her again.

“but i’ve never done something like this before.”

you sigh, looking off to the side. you hear a low chuckle from your girlfriend.

“trust me, hun, you do plenty for me in other departments.”

this elicits a slight flush rising to your face, deciding to just focus on eating the rest of your pancakes. as you finish the last of the sliced bits, you look up to see vi wearing that same soft smile she wears whenever she’s genuinely admiring you. it’s adorable, one of your favorite looks your girlfriend gives you. one you’ve become accustomed to.

vi stands up to take your plate from you, but not before you tug on one of the straps of her sports bra to bring you to her level. moving your lips slowly against her own, free hand resting on the small of your back. she gives a light giggle as she presses back into you, toned arms slowly wrapping around your neck.

“i’ll do the laundry today, since you cooked.”

you say, face still mere millimeters from vi’s. she smiles softly before shaking her head.

“nope. you’re relaxing today.”

“but-”

“no.”

“you cooked for-”

vi shakes her head again, brushing your jawline with her lips.

“i cooked because i want you to take it easy, and i like doing things for you. now, you’re gonna take your pretty self to the couch, or bed, and relax. and i’ll do the work today. alright?”

you groan in slight annoyance, but sigh. you know there’s no winning when vi gets in these moods. she only wants to see you taken care of, and she’ll be damned if that isn’t what happens.

count on vi to always put the needs of others before her own. she’d gotten better at taking care of herself during your relationship, but the way she put your wants and needs before her own never wavered. if anything, it got stronger with time.

“alright. but i’ll still do things tomorrow.”

“you can do whatever you want tomorrow.”

she hums, sitting down on the chair you were previously using. her arms are still draped around your neck, pulling you to sit on her lap. the second you make contact with her thighs, her lips are on yours again.

it’s breathless, a bit more rushed than the delicate kiss you had shared a few moments prior. but it’s perfect, it’s vi. the way her scarred lips move against yours is always so skillful yet so sweet.

“i love you, okay? i just want you to unwind sometimes.”

you nod slowly, pressing your forehead to your girlfriend’s and closing your eyes.

“i love you too, babe. just feel a bit… bad, not doing anything in return.”

“i don’t want anything in return,” she whispers. “this-” she points between the two of you, “is more than enough.”

[puckinghischier]

i’m having soft quinn thoughts today and i have to shout them from the rooftops so everyone else can suffer with me.

but i absolutely cannot stop thinking about how quinn would always want to spend time with you, but feel guilty for how occupied he is during the season. every second of downtime he has is spent watching game film in your living room, studying tactics and plays. not that you ever complain. you’re content simply being in the same room as him, not taking for granted any amount of time you can be in his presence.

quinn’s attention is always half on you, no matter how hard he tries to focus. he steals more glances at you than he cares to admit, worried that one day you’ll get sick of sitting in silence while hockey occupies the space between you. but you never do. you keep yourself busy scrolling through your phone or reading the most recent book he bought you, never uttering a complaint. he’s tuned in to every fidget or movement you make, not wanting you to remove your always cold feet from under his warm legs to occupy yourself with something—or rather someone—better.

it surprises him that you never do. you never utter a word, not wanting to disrupt his work. every so often he’ll catch you looking back at him during one of his ‘quick’ glances, absorbing the warm smile you give him. sometimes you’ll quietly ask him if he wants anything from the kitchen when you stand to go fill up your water cup, but seem content to simply sit there with him as he mumbles to himself, jotting down notes as he watches.

tonight, he can’t help but notice—during his million and one glances at you—that your eyes are glued to the tv. your phone is laying, locked, in your lap, eyes following the puck as it’s shuffled across both screens from player to player. your body’s subtle reactions to the game aren’t lost on him either. the twitch of your foot anytime someone shoots the puck, the raise of your brow when a player on either team scores, the hitch in your breath anytime the two teams start to fight.

you can feel his eyes on you more than usual tonight, his (not so) subtle glances lingering longer than normal. you turn your head to meet his gaze, brows furrowed and a puzzled look on his face.

“what?” you whisper, flitting your eyes between his own and the tv, not wanting to miss any important moments.

“are you watching the game?” he looks at you like you have three heads.

you giggle in response, amused at his expression and surprised tone of his voice. “yeah, kinda. don’t really know what’s happening, though, if i’m honest.”

there was never a home game of quinn’s you missed. you went to support him every time you could, and loved seeing him in his element. but you can’t even pretend to understand the sport past each player wanting to get the puck into the opposing net. you didn’t understand the positions, the penalties, or anything surrounding the ins and outs of professional hockey. you never watched it growing up, and probably still wouldn’t watch it if you weren’t dating the captain of your new city’s team.

you had moved to vancouver for work, and knew nothing of the prominent hockey culture before you arrived. the sports presence buzzed all around you as you figured out the ins and outs of your new home, but it had no place in your daily routine. that is, until you hit it off with this insanely attractive stranger that seemed to frequent the same coffee shop as you. you accidentally cut him in line one day, offering to pay for his coffee to make up for it, but he paid for yours instead. a ‘pay it forward’ war was started between the two of you until he was stood waiting at the door with your usual order one morning, requesting more than just a name and the fact you drank a large, vanilla iced coffee with chocolate syrup lining the cup every morning.

when he realized you were likely the only person in the city he now calls home that doesn’t know who he is, it only piqued his interest in the pretty coffee shop stranger further. the morning meetings at the shop turned into an exchange of numbers, which developed into him meeting you for lunch on your break when he was in town, that then escalated into dinner dates and spontaneous outings, and now it’s found its permanence in you moving in with him a few months ago.

you were…indifferent, when he revealed to you who he was and what all his career entailed, uttering out a simple “oh! that’s cool! makes sense why you’re always at the gym, now” later explaining that you thought he was just really into fitness and maybe worked as a personal trainer or some equivalent. when he first invited you to games he tried to tell you a little bit about the rules, but assumed you’d catch on as you watched (hopefully) more and more of his sport. you always told him how much you enjoyed watching him in his element, but never asked many questions past if the other team was supposed to be good or not. he assumed you understood enough to keep up, knowing how intelligent and observant you are, but he tried to refrain from talking about work too much with you. when he’s with you, he wants to be present with you, not hockey.

which is why he feels so guilty at times like this, watching film while you’re sitting next to him. it feels like you’re two people who happen to be in the same room, completely in your own worlds. until tonight.

“you…never watch the games with me. you always have a book or something,” he reaches over to pause the game, still a little shocked.

you shrug at him. “didn’t feel like reading tonight. not really anything new on my socials, either. so i figured i’d just watch with you for once.”

“and you weren’t gonna say anything?”

this earns a real laugh out of you, not understanding why this is such a big shock for him. it’s not like you’ve ever told him you don’t like hockey. you just have never really cared to watch it if isn’t the one playing. but you’ve been wanting to learn more about it recently, tired of not being able to participate in the games like the other women do when they’re watching their husband or boyfriend play.

“why would i? you’re trying to work, i’m just trying to learn a little bit,” you reply, the hint of a laugh on each word as you say it.

quinn just blinks at you, trying not to get his hopes up at your expression, not knowing just how far you want to go with your quest for knowledge.

“since when do you want to learn about hockey? why now?” he questions, trying not to sound accusatory or snarky, but genuinely curious as to what you’ll answer.

“i’ve always wanted to learn, ever since that first game i went to, but you don’t seem to like to talk about it outside of the rink, so i don’t really ask much. me and google have become very good friends as of late,” you shrug out another answer for him. “plus, when you’re watching games at night like this, i don’t want to keep talking and asking a million questions while you’re trying to work, so i force myself not to watch to keep from distracting you.”

quinn sits a little straighter, now worried he’s made it seem like hockey is this forbidden subject between the two of you.

“sweetheart, i don’t like talking about hockey outside of the rink because i don’t ever want you to think that’s all we ever talk about, not because we can’t talk about it,” he tries to defend himself, even though there’s no accusation. “if you want to learn about the game, please, ask me questions. i- god, i’d love nothing more than to teach you about it. i hate sitting here in silence every night i’m home, worried you’re going to eventually get pissed at me because all i do during the season is watch old games.”

you grin at his slight panic, endeared by how worried he was about your feelings this whole time, appreciating his intention with the unspoken rule.

“q, i never asked about it because i didn’t want you to be upset because i kept bringing up work when you’re away from it all,” your smile only grows at the fact you were both worried about upsetting the other for no reason at all.

the slight tension in his shoulders fades at your words, relieved that you’re not upset or feel like he made it seem like you had no place in that part of his life.

“alright, well, fire away, then,” he gives you the floor, pressing play so the players on the tv screens move once again, now glancing at you every few seconds to catch any looks of confusion or interest in any particular play or action.

the rest of the night is spent playing and pausing the game over and over again, question after question flying out of your mouth. anything from why the faceoff is from a certain spot on the ice to what a particular penalty looks like is spoken the second the thought enters your brain. quinn takes his time explaining every answer to you, even rewinding and pulling up other examples to make sure you understand what he’s telling you.

at the end of the night he realizes just how much more he caught of the game while answering your questions. there’s several times you picked up on things he never has before. like why one player seems to always place his stick so close to another player’s skates while he’s chasing him. or why a certain goalie seems to lean left everytime instead of right, no matter where the puck is coming from.

he’s been able to add several tells about players in his notes, ready to take them to practice the next morning and change his game to accommodate his opponents habits. and when they win their game a few days later, thanks to your observations during the impromptu hockey 101 class in your living room, he revels in the fact that even though you know so little about his sport and his job, you ended up being one of the biggest parts of their success.

from then on, the nights of sitting in silence while he studies film are nonexistent. every time he brings work home with him, you’re right there next to him, enthralled in whatever opponent’s game they’re facing that week. he loves that you’re so observant, paying attention to the smallest of details someone who’s been playing for years becomes blind to. and he really loves turning you into a bottomless pit of hockey information, seeing how you absorb each ‘lesson’ from day to day.

when they break through their slump, a big part of that accredited to your nights spent questioning quinn, and he sees you start really participating in his games, he can’t help but fall that much deeper in love with you. watching you scream and complain about bad calls with the rest of the fans in rogers arena, and reading your texts to him about your thoughts on his away games you watch on tv, swells his heart in a way he never thought to be possible.

plus, he always knew it was only a matter of time before you fell victim to the hockey atmosphere of the city. no one can really resist the pull of vancouver hockey, especially not when it’s captain has anything to do with it.

[living-in-a-box]

Prefacing this with: I do dislike everything about that post. The guy sounds soulless and it is pretty obvious he is obsessed about wealth. Sadly, he did not seem to take away any life lessons from his experience. I am not trying to somehow excuse his tone-deaf take. Just wanted to point out something I noticed that might apply to other people who are simply well-off financially but earn a relatively modest income, yet speak the same way.

Adding to the part about UBI - it might also be that money is not so much as a "metric of personal achievement" for a person, but this is just a way for them to express participating in their hobby. I have noticed people rarely call anything they do for their primary income source as a hobby.

I think YouTubers are a great example of this. Even YouTubers who are passive when it comes to making money on the platform and instead create content they love and it just so happened they got a large following that allows them to make it their primary income source - do not call YouTube their hobby, but their job. Even if they happen to love what they do, they still consider YouTube to be their job and not a hobby.

In addition, it is also noteworthy that even if someone is doing what they love by working for oneself that also means doing a lot of things that are not part of what one might enjoy (marketing, accounting, answering emails, talking with clients, etc.), so it does not make sense to quantify the action of doing that labour as "getting back to doing what I love/ my hobby". Which I think leads to people quantifying it through the end result instead.

The feeling of always needing to make more money might also be related to people having experienced some form of poverty in their childhood.

I am mostly writing this because I know people who say such things. Who feel bad that they took a (much needed) vacation because now they feel they have not been working enough. Even if they know that they have savings, that their monthly income will still be enough to cover their mortgage, bills, groceries, pets, hobbies and similar expenses - they still feel a certain anxiety that "this is not enough". Not because they are money hungry goblins, but because of various experiences that shaped their relationship with money.

Despite every moment of life being indescribably precious and a wondrous mystery, I will spend it caring about dividends and how many rental properties I have.

[fl3shm4id3n]

ʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬, 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏꜱ (ᴄʜᴏɪ ꜱᴇᴜɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ) x ꜰᴇᴍ! ꜱɪɴɢᴇʀ/ʀᴀᴘᴘᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Squid Game 2 SPOILERS, smoking, slut shaming, criticism from the public, death, blood, Thanos having the hots for reader, reader is kinda based on Megan Thee Stallion.

A/N: I've been listening to Megan Thee Stallion and Doja Cat again, I got some inspiration.

Masterlist

You were know as the infamous rapper 'Cherry' due that signature bright red color you wore all the time. You were at your golden age, everyone loved you. Specially young women your age, probably due because you sang songs about women struggles and anything involving women. Everywhere you went, you got recognized. You asked to take photos, sign pictures and other kinds of merch that your fans had in hand. You didn't mind, you loved your fans. They were the reason you became famous in the first place.

But then, you began to get criticized, according to a much older audience you were vulgar and not very lady like. They also criticized your music and how it was a bad influence to the younger generation. Not to mention your music videos. They criticized those too, simply because you wore very provocative outfits and danced inappropriately. The final straw was when you were spotted smoking cigarettes outside a night club. You got criticized even more. You even got slut shamed for it. You didn't understand the hate you got, you wondered if you were a man, would they still treat you the same?

You began to loose deals, no one really wanted to work with you. Scared about their reputation, you understood their explanation. It just sucked that you couldn't do what you really love. At some point, you had considered in no longer making music. But your fans had encouraged you to keep doing music, some even suggested you move to the States. You thought about it for a while now. Moving to the States wasn't so bad, you knew they weren't as critical as they were here. So you've made up your mind and decided to move to the US. But there was a problem, you barely had any money. That was going to be a problem, and your savings weren't going to cover the expenses. You needed money and needed it fast.

So, here you were. Dressed in a green tracksuit with the number '013'. You were told you'll be playing some games and get a huge amount of cash. There was a lot of people, were they here for the money too? Interesting. You were explained the rules and even signed a consent form and all that. While you were getting escorted to the first game, but first you had to get your picture taken. As you waited in line, you noticed a group of people huddling over a guy with purple hair. You knew right away who it was, it was the one and only Thanos. You were a huge fan of his, you had wanted to do a collaboration with him at some point.

"Omg, is that Cherry?!" Someone said, making everyone in that small group turn to look at you. "It is!" Someone else chimed in. Then they began to try and get you to go over to take a picture. Even Thanos chimed in. "Hey, I don't mind one more person, come on." He encouraged, before you could say anything, the guard came over and had told the group that they couldn't take picture that way, they had to be individual. No matter how much they begged to make an exception. The guard said no, Thanos then told that after the games, he'll take pictures with all of them. They all agreed and processed to get in line to get their pictures taken. When it was your turn, you made sure your hair was descent then processed to do your signature pose. You wondered if you could get your picture printed.

As you continued to walk to the destination of the game. A girl behind you, better known as player 196. "You're Cherry right?" She asked. "The one and only." You responded, she kind of squealed in excitement. "OMG, I always wanted to meet you in person. I've been to every single concert of yours!" She said, you couldn't help but smile and chuckle. "You have?" She asked. "Of course. I love your album RED, I listen to it 24/7." She explained excitedly. "I wish I had my phone so I can take a picture with you. Maybe even follow each other on Instagram." She said, still very excited to be right next to her idol.

Once outside, you and player 196 were still right next to each other. You had a feeling that she'd be stuck with you for the rest of the games, you didn't mind. "Hey, Señorita." You heard someone say behind you. You and player 196 turn to see who it was. It was the one and only Thanos. "Don't you know who I am?" He asked, while walking along side you and 196. "Do we have to?" She asked. "I do. Thanos The Mad Titan." You responded, making Thanos smile. "Das right. We can get to know each other. Tell me about yourself." He said, directly at you. "Are you hitting on me?" You couldn't help but asked. "Oh yeah, he definitely is." 196 said in response.

"In the sea of faces, you caught my eye. My beauty, my flower blooming among weeds." He paused as he sang to catch his breath. "Red, orange, yellow, green. I'm a legend Thanos." He finished as he did his very known pose. You and 196 listened and watched as he continued to small rap. "Look at us in this blue-green. Now give me the green light." He paused, then look directly at you. "I like you!" He said, as he did the heart with his pointer finger and thumb, then wiggled his eye brow at you. You couldn't help but chuckle and feel your face heat up. "Do you even know who she is?" 196 asked. "Of course I do. The one and only Cherry." He said, but then he continued. "'I'd rather be a B.I.T.C.H 'cause that's what you gon' call me when I'm trippin' anyway'. Real Hot Girl Shit, Ah! " He finish his sentence with a quote from one of your songs and your catch phrase, as he then posed just like you did earlier in your picture. Making you chuckle. "I never thought thee Thanos listens to my music." You responded. "Of course I do. I know talent when I see it." He said. "Ya know, red really is your color. That lipstick suits you well." He said confidently. You couldn't help but smile at him.

Then the game rules were explained. It was green light, red light. It should be easy right. Then a guy began to yell and scream on what to do and what not to do. Who even was he. When the game started, he continued to yell and tell everyone not to move. "Freeze! Nobody move!" He yelled. You, Thanos and 196 stood still near each other. "Is he high or what?" 196 asked. "Nope. No one is like that when they're high." Thanos added. "Then he must be drunk or off his meds." You also added. You then heard a small bug fly by. You followed it with your eyes and noticed how it landed right on player 196. "What's that?" She asked, still not moving. "He knows you're a flower. There's a bee on you." Thanos teased. "A bee?!" She then began to freak out an move like crazy. You remained still, just watching her.

She stopped then turn to look at you and Thanos. "Crap, I just moved." She said as she chuckled. Then a gunshot was heard, followed by 196 getting her brains blown and falling right in front of you. Both you and Thanos got splattered in her blood and some brain matter. Even at that, you still remained frozen. Your eyes shifted to look down at her, seen a huge bullet wound on her forehead along with blood. The bee had come back and landed onto her cheek. The man yelled again. "Do not move!" He warned. You were frozen, you just witnessed someone getting shot. You wanted to scream, but you didn't. You feared that if you moved, you'd be next. Then people began screaming and running. Gun shots were heard and people were getting shot. Despite that, you still didn't move. You didn't want to die like this.

For the remainder of the game, you followed the guys instructions. It was obvious that you were scared, but you kept on going. You threw yourself across the finish line. Relieved that you were alive.

Back at the lobby, you were sitting on the floor near your bunk. Still breathing heavily, your hands were shaking. You were also slightly biting your extra long stiletto red nail on your pointer finger, nervously. You felt yourself slightly gag, you then covered your mouth with your hand. Feeling sick. Nothing came out, but your stomach was turning. You didn't even notice Thanos sitting next to you. "You okay?" He asked. You then uncovered your mouth. "I'm good, no worries." You said, still shaky. Thanos noticed and took your hand into his. Giving them small rubs and trying to ease your nerves. His hand were pretty warm and felt very comforting. You were more calm by his small kind gesture.

A bit letter, the same man began to argue with the pink men. Asking about the votes and all that. You weren't focus on any of that, you were more focus on what the hell you jus witnessed. The image of that girl was engraved in your head. You sure needed therapy after this. When the pink showed the amount of money in the piggy bank, your eyes were glued to the clear piggy. Seen that much money all together. Made your worries go away. All that money could help you get to the States and more. When you heard the more eliminated players, more money will be added. Was it bad that you wanted to stay for more? Who care if people will die, they're fucked from the get go. They'd either die here or out there.

When it came to the voting, a lot of people voted to stay. There was arguing with that guy. Claiming he played these games before. But no one really cared, people chose to stay and play. When it was your turn, you pressed O and given the O velcro patch to put on your jacket. When you headed to the O side, Thanos and some guy stood right next to you. "Good choice Señorita." He said with a goofy smile. "I need to the money, so. Either I get it here or I go back home empty handed." You simply said, almost cold. Thanos nodded his head, then wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. "Just stick with me, I'll protect you." He said, very confident. He then leaned down and literally licked the blood off your cheek. You groaned, but didn't mind. You couldn't help but chuckle by his action.

"You a freak or something?" You asked, while you wiped the saliva off your cheek with the jacket sleeve. "Baby, I'll be whatever you want me to be." He said, with a smirk while looking directly at you. You couldn't help but slightly bite your red bottom lip. Almost as if you were flirting with him. "I like you, like really like you." He said. "You only just met me today." You added. "Pfft, so? The moment I saw you, I knew I'd like you." He said with a flirtious smile. "Maybe this is fate." You teased. "Ya know, maybe I didn't get all the infinity stones." He said. You raised your brow. "Oh? And why is that?" You asked. "Well, I do have purple, yellow, blue and green. But, there's one missing." He said. "And that one is?" You asked. Thanos then responded. "I just need red. Red is the Reality stone." He said. You tilted your head to side, waiting for him continue. "And Baby, you're my reality." He said with a wink. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and laugh at his corny line. "What? It's true." He said. Maybe being in these life and death games wasn't going to be too bad.

[fatedroses]

Baby Zenos being curious of everything means Atticus can't skip out on tuning anymore and Solus gets extra hands for some of his tools.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter nine: Under Pressure

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12

The afternoon had come and gone quickly, the hours slipping by unnoticed as you focused on the task at hand. Since In-ho had left your quarters earlier to tend to the business of the Games, you had thrown yourself into the design for the VIP room, the thoughts from earlier swirling around in your mind as you worked. The layout was coming together faster than you expected, the ideas you’d envisioned starting to take shape on the screen in front of you.

You had decided on the details for the room—a space inspired by Ancient Greece, with dark marble walls and deep green plants to contrast the heavy architecture. You had even sketched out the placement of the statues, where they’d be posed like ancient figures, their sheer togas whispering against the dark air. You’d chosen minimal gold accents—just enough to catch the light, just enough to hint at opulence without overwhelming the room. It wasn’t much, but you had done what you could to breathe some life into the cold, hollow shell that the VIP room had been before. You wanted something that would feel alive.

When you finished the layout, you felt a moment of relief. It was done. You sat back in the chair, rubbing your eyes tiredly. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been working—time always seemed to disappear when you were lost in the task.

You glanced toward the door, the space now quiet and still without In-ho’s presence. The silence felt heavy, but not the same way it did when he was distant. Now, it felt like there was something waiting to be acknowledged. You didn’t know what it was, but it was there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts aside. There was no point in dwelling on it. You had work to do.

After reviewing the layout one last time, you gathered up the sheets of paper and the digital file on your tablet and made your way down the hall to In-ho’s office. The room was silent when you entered, the heavy wooden doors closing softly behind you. In-ho was sitting at his desk, his eyes focused on the tablet in his hands. He didn’t look up when you entered, but you could feel his attention shift toward you the moment you approached his desk.

“I finished the layout,” you said, holding out the tablet with the digital design for him to see.

In-ho didn’t respond right away. He leaned forward slightly, his masked face unreadable as he studied the layout you’d created. His fingers brushed over the tablet screen, moving slowly as he scrolled through the details. The room was so still you could hear his faint breath. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but you had to trust him to make the final decision.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he looked up at you. His gaze was steady, but you couldn’t tell if he liked the design or if he was just processing it.

“It’s good,” he said simply. “I’ll approve it as is. It’s what we need.”

Relief washed over you, the tension in your shoulders easing as you allowed yourself to breathe. He hadn’t rejected it, hadn’t dismissed the work you’d put in. He approved it.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

He nodded, his gaze briefly flicking back to the design before he set the tablet aside. “Get the contractors on it. We don’t have much time. The VIPs will be here tomorrow.”

You nodded in understanding. The second day of the Games had arrived, and with it, the first wave of VIPs. They’d be descending on the compound tomorrow, and the room had to be ready. There was no room for delay.

You started to leave the office when In-ho’s voice stopped you.

“Wait,” he said, looking up from his desk. “I’ll need you to contact the contractors personally. Have them start immediately. And make sure to check in with the staff to make sure the preparations are in place for tomorrow.”

You turned back toward him, surprised by the sudden responsibility, but it wasn’t unwelcome. The thought of managing everything yourself felt… empowering in a way. It gave you a sense of control, a sense that you weren’t just a piece in this strange, warped game anymore.

“I’ll handle it,” you said, a new sense of confidence rising in your chest. You had something to focus on, something concrete. Something to fight for. “I’ll take care of it.”

He nodded once, his eyes narrowing slightly as if sizing you up, but not in a threatening way. It was more like he was… watching you. It made you feel more aware of the space between you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, just… heavy. Like he was silently waiting for something.

“You’ll do well,” he said softly, and though the words were simple, there was a sincerity in his tone that surprised you. “You always do.”

The compliment, however casual it seemed, hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. You weren’t sure what to say in response, so you simply nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, finally turning to leave. Your heart was still pounding from the weight of his words, but you didn’t let it stop you. There was work to do, and you weren’t going to waste any more time.

———————

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. You spent the next few hours making calls, reaching out to the contractors, getting the details sorted for tomorrow. You were quick, efficient, making sure everything was on track for the arrival of the VIPs. There was no room for mistakes. Not with the pressure mounting.

When everything was finally set, you felt like you could breathe again. The room would be ready. The models, the plants, the statues—you had everything in place. You were almost there.

As the evening drew closer, you sat in the quiet of your bedroom. You were exhausted. But there was a strange, quiet pride in the work you’d done.

And as you sat there, feeling the weight of the day’s work, your thoughts wandered again to In-ho. The tension between you both had shifted, hadn’t it? Something had changed this morning after your conversation, something that felt more real. He had spoken to you like you weren’t just a stranger in his life, like you were someone he could trust.

But you still didn’t know where this was heading. You weren’t sure what he felt, or if he was even capable of feeling anything outside of the role he played. You couldn’t get ahead of yourself. You had to focus on what was in front of you. The Games. The room. The VIPs arriving tomorrow.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, and In-ho stepped in, mask in his hand, he looked at you with a hint of something. Something that you hadn’t seen before.

“The room is ready,” you said, standing up quickly, the business of the day still lingering in your voice.

In-ho gave a small nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing your words. “Good. I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. But tomorrow… we’ll be back to the Games. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded, but the heaviness of his words lingered in the air.

“I won’t forget,” you said, the quiet promise hanging between you.

And for a moment, you didn’t feel quite so alone.

———————

Chapter nine!! They’re becoming closer! Lemme know what you think! Thank you! :)

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[recursive-muse]

Well I suppose to start off, obviously trans misogyny "isn't real" it's not made of matter, it exists in a very loose sense as a general pattern of discriminatory and cruel behavior directed mostly, but not exclusively at trans women. But I suppose you'd want me to ask you how can something that isn't even made of matter have definitive qualities? It can't be set in stone or 'definitive' any more than Christmas or the qualities of a unicorn can be.

So while you can be correct or incorrect about the particular details of an instance of discrimination experienced by a particular person (be they trans or otherwise). There are no concrete rules as to how anyone is discriminated against, just general guidelines that people learn from each other by watching their behavior.

So I suppose it's true that if you insist on narrowly defining trans misogyny as a form of discrimination that is both a) uniquely experienced by trans women, and b) defined by trans women as a collective. Then it's true that no such thing exists as the particulars of how and why discrimination is doled out are decided by the discriminator in the instance of discrimination, and instances of mistaken identity are fairly common (i.e. a trans man or cis woman could be mistaken for a trans woman, or vice versa).

What's more, It's not at all clear how you intend for point b of your definition of trans misogyny to work. Do all trans women need to attend a meeting to agree on the definition, do they put it to a vote or is it by consensus, and if it is how much variance in the understanding of the definition is tolerable? How closely does someone have to identify with womanhood to count as part of this community and how many members need to be present for them to hold quorum?

This is all of course in jest, we both know there is no one definition of trans misogyny that all trans women agree to, there are some generalities but every definition has its detractors and there is no binding consensus. This too is another vague social construct that lacks definitive qualities.

As for your conjecture that I am either 'misusing' or 'misdefining' the word trans misogyny which you somewhat unhelpfully declined to define yourself. I don't see how that's possible when language itself is socially constructed. Now yes, there are prescriptive, academic, and dictionary definitions, all of which can be quite helpful in clarifying what we mean when we use certain words. But as I'm sure you've noticed with slang people can say whatever they like and meen whatever they like by it and as long as they're understood by some subset of the population they've successfully used language. Now I know it's tempting to say that slang isn't 'official', but as you may have guessed the official quality of anything is also socially constructed (see aren't social constructs fun, we're 'surrounded' by them all the time and yet we hardly ever get around to recognizing them as such). As again I'm sure you've noticed definitions can vary from one dictionary to the next and academics themselves can quarrel over the precise details of any given definition, while still agreeing on the broader points. So there are no 'definitive' definitions just ones that are agreed upon by groups of experts, but even then who gets to be an expert, how much schooling do they need, if groups disagree how should they resolve their differences? These questions have plenty of practical answers, but no correct ones.

You also seem to imply that you have some sort of information that I lack which would better clarify your point. Now I very much doubt that, but I suppose you can claim it to be true, I don't care. Then you imply that my points are for some reason 'despicable' I'm guessing you want me to interpret this as some sort of unsubstantiated moral claim, tho I don't understand what you mean by it. Honestly, I see it as an emotional reaction to my position different from your own, or perhaps you simply dislike my phrasing. Either way, my positions are correct and I don't care why you dislike them, they are factual after all.

To round this out I'll clarify two more points for you. I'm gender fluid, and I have a degree in sociology. So there, I hope this hasn't ruined your day or anything. Personally I don't really think that matters, but there it is.

“everyone talking about transmisogyny is a binary trans woman, as evidenced by the fact that I assume everyone talking about transmisogyny is a binary trans woman”

sigh

[theannoyingurge]

Playing with the idea that none of the bg3 villains are fully honest with Durge. Everyone is hiding some piece of the puzzle and happy to abuse the amnesia situation to their advantage. 'Cept Kressa. She's psycho, but she's an honest psycho. In another life, we might have been friends.

Ketheric is the first, most obvious example of this. He doesn't even bother to inform the other Chosen you've reappeared. (Myrkul is the god of exhaustion, so this tracks.)

Balthazar also 100% recognizes you and also doesn't even bother. To him, your amnesia means no tedious reunions with annoying Bhaalspawn who are big mad that he stole their brother's name and rib bones.

The Emperor is sometimes overlooked when piecing together Durge's history, but he admits to knowing your past if you reject him in Act 3 (stating "I know everything about you" while threatening to turn you into a puppet like Duke Stelmane). Whether or not he's posturing, he should at least be aware of your past with Gortash, considering you helped kidnap him in the first place. For evidence, see Gortash's interrogation notes, which open with "When we captured you". (Sure, this could refer to Orin, but I simply do not see these two working as a highly functional team. More on this and the timeline below the cut.) Naturally, despite traveling together for months, The Emperor wouldn't want to fill any gaps in your memory that might cast doubt on his trustworthiness or help align you with his enemy.

The Absolute might be lying about respecting you/your plan and preferring you over your replacement. I am of two minds about this. If you were attacked immediately after crowning the brain, there should be no basis for a preferential relationship. In that case, the brain is just stroking your ego and need for approval. However, I have doubts about Durge being taken down during the initial raid.** I think some time must have passed after crowning the Absolute, giving it the chance to develop a working relationship with you that it lacked with the other Chosen, which caused everything to fall apart after you were tadpoled. This also buys us time to kidnap the Emperor and bring it under the Absolute's thrall as described in Gortash's interrogation notes.

**Some of Gortash's other notes claim Durge was lost during the first raid, but his journals are full of contradictions. He leaves the House of Hope out of his memoirs entirely. He seemingly retcons history to present himself in a more favorable light, which probably includes intentionally diminishing the work of his allies (or erasing the painful memory of his nearest and dearest). In any interpretation, the brain definitely hates Gortash the most, and that's good enough for me.

Orin and Gortash paint somewhat conflicting pictures of you pre-tadpole. The difference here might be genuine (the honest perspectives of a little sister vs a business partner or lover) or it could be a manipulative game of tug of war over your budding and impressionable self image.

Now, I like Durgetash - but I like every possible interpretation of these assholes, not just the mutually reciprocated and/or sexy ones. It's conceivable to me that Gortash may have discovered Durge's crush on him via the Prayer for Forgiveness and played up their history in Act 3 as a defensive measure. Maybe Gortash always knew of Durge's feelings and used them to his advantage (Orin outright tells you this, but again, nobody listens to Orin. Sorry sis).

It's also conceivable that he knew Durge was the first to be tadpoled, considering how close their pod was to his workbench. The brain was given orders to transform the party (that were resisted several times), so Gortash's surprise that Durge still lives makes sense, assuming he even knew Durge was with them (he doesn't seem to be checking the scrying eyes at all. What kind of loser tyrant ignores his own surveillance system? I digress). His general relief and preference for them over Orin is also still valid. (I imagine he feels something along the lines of Durge being the one who got away, you don't know what you've got until it's gone, etc etc. Cue hysterical bonding as the long lost love of his life waltzes into his coronation covered in blood to save him from their psychotic sister and the poorly housetrained Netherbrain they left him full custody of. Yes he wanted full custody, but still.)

Puppy eyes aside, Gortash is a blackhearted pragmatist (he will turn on Durge if they give him the stones) and progress is progress. The first True Soul was an incredible breakthrough, and the show must go on. So just imagine the bricks he's shitting in Act 3 if Durge comes back and remembers the Wrong Things from before the nautiloid. What if they want revenge on him? Nope, not good at all. Best to position himself as Durge's only friend and most trustworthy partner. Regardless of how well he treated them before, Durge was willing to piss off Bhaal to spare his life. That's an extremely useful vulnerability right now, because he's about to ask them to do it again!

Lastly, I have no proof, but I strongly suspect that Sceleritas is fibbing about Durge's past as well. Partly because the Slayer form is severely disappointing in-game and canonically excrutiatingly painful, despite Fel claiming you've always wanted it. It honestly sounds like a way to sell an unwanted used car back to it's amnesiac owner who failed to appreciate it before. Bhaal isn't a full deity any longer, so take what you're given (and you'd better damned well like it!) I also call bullshit on tossing a coin to a beggar being the "worst" crime Durge ever committed against Bhaal (*ahem* looking at you, Gortash). Some dialogue with the Oathbreaker Paladin suggests we've tried somewhat consistently to be good in the past, and Sceleritas has a vested interest in making Durge worse, not planting noble ideas in their freshly lobotomized murder-happy brain.