#i started this april 25 2023

[ccieatchildren]

A Dance, Darling?

TW: Noncon Kissing, Implied Kidnapping, Almost Panic Attack, Intimate Whumper, Forced Relationship

Whumpee brought their fingers up to rest on the rubies encircling their neck. It was not as extravagant as they had expected from him, but it was still hefty enough to feel each individual jewel press into their flesh, a constant reminder on their skin.

Leaving the necklace alone, disturbed by what it represented, their eyes travelled up to their face in the mirror. Their makeup was all red. Lipstick, eyeliner, eyeshadow, each a dark shade that could only be accomplished by Whumper mixing some of their own blood into the cosmetics. They shuddered at the memory of the experience.

Whumpee groaned as he made another cut on their back, pressing the clear vial under the opening. The blood prickled their skin as it made its path down into the small jar.

Whumper brushed his lips against their neck, “we have to make sure you look your best.” He pressed on each side of the wound, drawing out more of the scarlet substance. The flow of red now rushed into the container. 

They sobbed, while Whumper watched in fascination.

Underneath the bandages, their spine pulsated at the memory, and they could feel the beginning barbs of phantom pain. Whumpee shook their head, freeing themself from the thought. 

Moving along, their gaze moved further up to their hair. Whumper had asked– told– them to put the small red jewel feathers he gave them in between the locks. In any other situation, Whumpee quite enjoyed the look of them in their hair, it was as if their hair was a flower sporting red leaves, but here, their image was immediately soured by who gave them to them.

They frowned. Another chain.

Their hands moved down to follow the curve of their dress. It was a deep crimson, matching their makeup and jewellery, and flowed down to their ankles. A hole was cut out at their chest, causing Whumpee to scrunch up their nose in distaste. It was shoulderless with a high slit on their right side, showing off their leg and the scars that adorned it. 

Whumpee hated it.

They were not very used to wearing dresses in the first place. They would thought it beautiful on someone else, but it felt foreign on their own skin. It complemented their figure too well, emphasizing their chest, hips, and waist in a way that made them feel like a piece of meat on display. The slit showed much more skin than they were comfortable with and Whumpee was paranoid that they would accidentally flash someone. They kept tugging the fabric down, but there was nothing more for it to do. Whumper’s intent with the dress was clear. Flaunt the prized lamb he bought in the auction. 

However, they would prefer the objectification over the reason he actually chose this dress for them. 

Easier access.

It made them nauseous. Their fingers itched to rip and tear the dress off themself. Strip themself of the shame and fear.

Whumpee slammed their hands onto the sink, pulling their attention away from their apprehension and resentment. In, out. In, out. In… Out… Drawing in each breath worked to ease their misgivings. A technique Whumpee relied heavily on throughout their time here. Inhaling fresh air, exhaling all theirworries. 

A few seconds and Whumpee was back to their original state. 

Not normal, not calm. But manageable. Never fully calm again.

Their eyes drooped down to the final piece tying their ensemble together, the gold band that encircled their left ring finger. Part of them enjoyed covering up the scar from his teeth, hiding how they were now permanently tied to him. The other part of them knew this was just a fancier shackle. A more obvious cuff for the public eye.

They fiddled with the ring, twisting it back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. God, they just wanted to throw it out the window and watch as it got lost to the city forever. 

They slowly pulled the bond up their finger, only thoughts of release and escape bouncing around their head.

“Do you like it?” 

Whumpee whipped their head around to see Whumper standing in the doorway. They shoved the ring back down.

He had pushed his hair back for once, the fluffy black locks smothered under a layer of gel. His suit was black, as was his tie, which were accompanied by a red vest and button up, matching their dress perfectly. He still wore the same three earrings, now pairing with their own red drops. Whumper had taken off his glasses, presumably switching them for contacts, emphasizing his dark lashes and ruby eyes.

He looked them up and down, unabashedly ogling, before finally settling on their face. “You look absolutely gorgeous, dear. Red looks nice on you.” 

“I prefer blue.���

Whumper’s lips twitched. “Are you ready? Best not to be late.” He swiftly turned around, ignoring the obvious last ditch attempt to rile him up, grabbing his keys and heading to the door. Whumpee trailed behind, already dreading the party.

————

The bright lights of the venue were the first thing to assault Whumpee’s eyes. They stepped out of the vehicle, admiring the show of excessive wealth, jumping at the slam behind them. Whumper tittered at their reaction; he had closed the car door behind them, chivalrous, as always.

Whumpee turned to glare at him, unamused. He initially looked surprised at their outward frustration toward him, before smiling once again.

Whumper offered them his elbow, red eyes boring into them, and Whumpee was quick to accept the proposal. “Off we go, my love.” Handing the keys off to the valet, he walked into the large building, practically dragging Whumpee with him.

It was an open ballroom, filled with people mingling, the low hum of talking almost overpowering the small orchestra playing music in the corner. It was decorated with an abundance of gold and white, adding to the affluent and lavish vibe. The middle of the room was open for couples who wanted to dance, the sides filled with tables holding various hors d'oeuvres and desserts. At the very end was a stage covered in balloons and banners, where the host would most likely give their toast.

Whumpee cringed at the overwhelming amount of people in the room. They had never been that much of a fan of parties, but now, their usual anxiety seemed to have increased tenfold. Their skin itched as if everyone was staring at them, checking them out, assessing their worth, finding their weaknesses. It reminded them of the tense stillness before a fight, not a party. The wounds across their back and stomach throbbed, their ever present pain intensifying, and making Whumpee even more self conscious. 

What if they could see them? What would they do then? Would they help them or find it amusing? What would Whumper do? 

This was too much. They couldn’t do this. Couldn’t pretend everything was fine. They needed to get out of here.

Panic crawled up their spine, and Whumpee slightly pulled away from Whumper, hoping to escape. But his grip was firm, and they were stuck pressed into him. Whumper’s body shook with light laughter at their alarm, peering down at them. Upon seeing their expression, however, he twitched.

Whumper pulled them even closer to him, “want to go back home, darling?” His eyes were softer than usual and his face contorted into a small frown, “do all the people frighten you?”

Whumpee nodded vigorously, pressing themself closer to him, trying to appeal to his affection for them.

Whumper placed his free hand on their cheek, and Whumpee nuzzled further into him. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” He seemed to think for a few seconds, watching them carefully, before his lips widened into a sharp smile. “As much as I would love to go back home with you,” he mockingly placed a hand over his chest, “and it truly does make me elated that you consider me your home now,” Whumpee flinched, recognizing their mistake, trying to draw back away from him, “but,” he wouldn’t let them go, “we prettied you for this. We can’t go before you meet everyone and indulge in the festivities. Can’t have it all go to waste, now can we?” He tutted at them.

Whumper continued to stare at them before they realized he wanted an answer. Whumpee slowly shook their head, accepting defeat, slumping down into themself.

Whumper patted their cheek before pulling back. “Kaip geras. Now let’s go, I already see someone I want to introduce you to.”

He pulled them along further into the room, and Whumpee took a deep breath, hoping, but failing, to prepare themself for the night to come.

————

The next hour or so was filled with Whumpee standing docilely next to Whumper, a smile plastered on their face while he spoke to everyone who came to greet him. 

It was the same thing over and over again. A name they wouldn’t remember, faces that blurred together, shallow compliments about their outfit, and, the worst of all, congratulations to the happy couple. 

Whumper keened at all the flattery, especially those of their dress and jewelry, making sure to pipe in that he was the one that purchased them for them, and, as they were expected to follow along, Whumpee thanked him for the “generous” gift from a loving fiancé. He always managed to squeeze in a kiss for the presents, tilting their head up and drawing Whumpee in whenever they expressed their gratitude. This only delighted the other guests, amused at the young couple’s public show of affection.

It was torture. 

Now Whumpee, thankfully, had finally gotten a small break from Whumper flaunting them off, standing on the sidelines and trying to drown their worries into a small flute of champagne. 

Never too far, Whumper was in the corner conversing with what they could only assume to be potential buyers, and, though he wasn’t facing them, Whumpee could still feel the ever present weight of his eyes watching them, making sure they didn’t run. As unnerving as it was, Whumpee preferred it over his stifling presence bearing down next to them. 

The hero scanned the room as their mind drifted. They could try to get help from the other people here, but Whumpee didn’t foresee much success through those routes. They recognized half the guests from files back in their old office, and those who weren’t publicly villains were most likely not much better either. 

However, even if they weren’t in the same circles as Whumper, what could Whumpee say that would convince them of their situation. Their last stunt as a hero left them humiliated and discredited; they looked crazy to the public eye. Someone who had lost their way and needed the guidance of some pristine charitable schmuck who graciously sacrificed themselves to help them. In the end, it would be their words against his, and no one would believe them. 

And on the small, small chance they did… Whumpee shivered at what Whumper would do to keep them with him, how he would take revenge for their defiance. They knew it wouldn’t just stop at them, and, as much as they despised it, the hero in them couldn’t let that happen.

As always, he had the upper hand. 

They were taken out of their musings by a gloved hand appearing in their line of sight, too deep in thought to notice Whumper had finished his conversation.

“Join me for a dance, mylimasis?” An award winning smile was plastered on his face, amusement obvious as he played the part of a perfect gentleman. Whumpee grimaced at the irony. 

Seeing no way out of it, Whumpee cautiously placed their hand in his, their trepidation bringing a small chuckle out of the man. Whumper gently brought them to the dance floor, joined by other couples who wished to sway with their partners. Whumpee brought their arms around his neck as he encircled their waist, skin crawling where he touched them. 

Whumper rocked them side to side at a slow pace, calming just by watching them. Whumpee scrutinized him, trying to understand his game; it wasn’t like him to do something so simple without an ulterior motive. 

His fingers started to tap along their waist, following the beat of the music in the background, while he continued to watch them. Whumpee stared back with the same intensity, struggling to smooth their face so they weren’t outright glaring at him. He seemed rather startled at their ‘sudden’ annoyance, eyes widening, before he sheepishly smiled at them. Their face must have slackened in confusion as he relaxed as well, returning to watching them. They continued like that, swaying in the crowd and looking at each other, for a small while. 

Finally, a blush spread across his cheeks, and Whumper quickly turned away. 

He’s like an embarrassed teen. 

They huffed slightly in disbelief, causing Whumper to turn back around at the sound. Realizing the awkwardness, he cleared his throat before asking. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“Yes.”

He perked up. “Really?”

Whumpee sent him a dry look. Whumper visibly wilted and they scoffed, looking away. Seriously, again?

Letting their anger and frustration get the best of them wasn’t the smartest move, they knew that, but their proximity was putting Whumpee on edge, making them more irritable than usual. 

“You are going to have to get used to this,” Whumper said, breaking the silence. Whumpee turned back, shocked by his now blank face. “I’m tolerating your disrespect because we’re in public, and I recognize this is your first time being away from home in a long time. It makes you nervous, I understand that. But,” his fingers dug into their waist and Whumpee had to suppress a gasp, “when we’re officially wed, you’ll have to join me to these outings frequently as my wife.” He leaned down so their eyes were level, “I will not indulge this pitiful defiance of yours, then.” Whumper straightened back out, looking down at them, always able to make them feel small with just a glance. “So, I recommend you start familiarizing yourself with the appropriate behavior now.”

Fuck.

Whumpee gulped. They had screwed themself over.

Head bowed, Whumpee accepted defeat. It always ended like this, with Whumpee on their knees before Whumper, metaphorically or literally. They had no response other than to let themself be pulled every which way by Whumper.

Now pressed up against his chest, Whumper and Whumpee swayed as more and more partners made their way to the dance floor.

Leaning down once more, Whumper supplied their companion with more information. “Get ready, brangusis, it’s about to get fun.”

Noticing the crowd of couples, the small orchestra shifted into waltz, and everyone moved in sync. 

Whumper brought their clasped hands up and moved his other to their hip, brushing over an old wound. Whumpee harshly sucked in a breath before placing their hand on his shoulder. He commenced the dance, and Whumpee tried their best to keep up.

Step, slide, step, turn. 

Whumpee hyper focussed on their feet, trying to match his movements. They didn’t have much experience with ballroom dancing, having only taken a few classes as a joke with Bestie, and the one time Caretaker tried to teach them, though it hadn’t ended very well. Whumpee smiled at the memory: them and Caretaker a mess of limbs on the floor as Whumpee had slipped and doomed them both to a few more bruises across their body. They had been so out of breath from laughing when they couldn’t untangle themselves from each other. It had been a spur of the moment idea, some stupid thing meant to bring them closer together. It worked.

“Something funny?” 

Whumpee broke out of their reverie, not even realizing they had zoned out. Whumper’s mouth was a hard line, displeasure at not being the center of their attention apparent. 

It irked them how needy he always was. Kidnapping, experimenting, torturing, and assaulting them wasn’t enough?

They mumbled a quiet apology, peeking up at him through their lashes. It worked and Whumper eased with a blush. 

The musicians kept a steady adagio tempo, giving any more couples who wanted to join an extra moment. Whumpee slowly acclimated to the rhythm, matching Whumper’s moments not long after. 

“You were always a quick learner,” he laughed. Whumpee grimaced. 

As they danced, he squeezed and kneaded along their side, curious of their reactions. His fingers pressed into an old bruise and Whumpee staggered. He kept them balanced, yet began a game of finding where else he could push to get a pained response.

They tried to pull away from the pokes and prods, tottering with each failed attempt. They whined when he reached a fresh stitched gash. Whumpee could feel the meager string split under his pressure, spilling blood that wouldn’t be noticed under the crimson of their dress. 

Whumpee startled when their dance faltered for a moment, for once not because of them. They peered up at Whumper, surprised to find dilated eyes trained on their throat. 

“Don’t do that.” He ground out. 

Ah.

Whumpee was more than happy to obey. That train of thought would lead nowhere good for them. 

Screaming in pain would also most likely not bode well with the other guests. Whumpee sighed, nodding and gritting their teeth through his subtle exploration. Their head throbbed. 

The music picked up, pushing them to move even faster. Whumpee already felt dizzy from the quick paced movement, and Whumper’s tight hold over their still healing cuts was not helping. “Smile, love. People are watching.” He purred.

Heeding his warning, Whumpee stretched their mouth into some semblance of a smile, lips twitching from the strain, and kept dancing. Whumper relaxed his grip slightly, pleased with their obedience. 

Step, slide, step, turn.

Just as they were getting used to pushing the pain down to the rhythm, Whumper let go of their waist, spinning them. Whumpee stumbled, but he kept them moving, pulling them back in after they completed a turn. He seamlessly continued their dance, not giving Whumpee a break to get their bearings, delighting in their increasing disorientation. 

Step, slide, step, turn.

He continued to spin Whumpee every few steps, quietly laughing at their mounting nausea. However, each time their expression began to display their discomfort, Whumper would lean down to mutter a reminder of what would happen if they didn’t keep up the facade. His own twisted form of encouragement. 

“I don’t like to share, sweetheart. Those expressions are only for me.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Many guests are watching us love, don’t disappoint them with your sour countenance. I don’t want them gossiping about how I have an unruly wife.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“You look marvellous when you spin. My pretty little thing. Keep going.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Your dress makes me want to add more red. How about the blood of everyone here, ęh? Do we want to see?”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Don’t fall. I’ll get jealous. And we will have to fix that by adding bruises of my own.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

Vomit slithered up their throat. Their eyes burned with the effort to keep it down, despite the writhing of their stomach and the taste of maggots in their mouth.

A particularly fast whirl caused Whumpee to lose their footing, almost bringing them both to the floor. Whumper was quick enough to avoid disaster, but it put them out of sync with the music for several beats. 

“Watch it, Whumpee. You will not ruin this for me.” He said harshly. “Keep slipping and I’ll snip your legs.”

The again didn’t need to be said. 

But, Whumpee was trying their best, except every movement only exacerbated their aches and exhaustion. Their breathing became laboured and their limbs felt heavy, their beaten body unable to keep up with the overexertion. 

They wanted to tap out now. 

Whumpee tried to pull away, releasing his shoulder and stepping out of his grasp, only for his grip on their other hand to constrict. Whumper drew them back in, gracefully spinning them as he did so, and pulling them up against his chest in a flourish. They gasped as he once again agitated their wounds.

“Where are you going zuikutis? We’re not done yet.” He pinned them even closer to him, leaning down to whisper in their ear. “I can hear your heart hammering. Does our dancing make you that excited?” Whumpee tried to pull away, but their efforts were fruitless. Their body was drained and Whumper was holding them too tight. 

They were about to slump against him, give in and let Whumper sway them on the floor, accept whatever punishment he saw fit, but before they could fully relax, he pulled back, placing their arms once again in the position for a waltz. His expression was harsh, “I said we weren’t done yet, mielasis.” Whumpee flinched, eyes shifting to the people outside the dance floor, but he started to move them once more.

Whirling and pulling. Twisting and pulling. Spinning and pulling. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling.

They can’t keep up.

The music seemed to intensify with their panic. Whumpee could hear their pulse pounding in their ears. The sound of their harsh breathing contrasted with Whumper’s controlled ones. The voices at the edge of the room grew. Tapping of shoes on the pristine floor echoed in their head.

Each sound pushed against their skull, battling one another for space in their mind. Whumpee began to wobble more, unsteady feet tripping their partner. Hands clawing at whatever they held. Chest tightening. Vision blurring. Throat closing. Tired. Hot. Dizzy. 

Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. LET GO-

“Breathe, it’s over.”

A hand rubbed soothing circles along their back. Whumpee blinked rapidly, vision and mind slightly clearing. They found themself leaned down, hovering over the floor.

The song had finished. Whumper had dipped them. 

The crowd around them released small whoops and cheers for all the dancers, surrounding the couple with the sharp clap of applause. Whumpee tensed. Whumper hurried to calm them.

“Ramiai, ramiai vargšas.” He slowly pulled them back to their feet. “I see I got carried away. This was too much for you.” Whumper told them softly. “We’ll work on it.”

Whumpee couldn’t process what he was saying, too busy trying to return to the world around them. They were pliant as he led them off the dance floor.

They spent the next few minutes leaning into Whumper as they calmed themself down. If they could think clearly, Whumpee would have pulled away from him long ago, but they simply did not have the mental capacity for hatred or fear right now.

After they reached a more coherent state, he spoke. “I’m going out for a smoke.” Whumpee was still breathless from their dancing, barely able to catch up to what he was telling them. “You don’t have to join me, I know how much you hate it. But,” Whumpee suddenly grabbed their arm, throwing them off balance once more.

“Stay here.” They didn’t think they could anywhere if they wanted to, they were too light headed from dancing. That was probably the point. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes.” 

Whumper examined them a final time, before nodding to himself. He steered Whumpee to a corner, despite their, almost drunken, stumbling. Then, they were on their own. 

They felt the need to cry, the tears pressing against the back of their eyes, but they- they just- it wasn’t working. They couldn’t. Not here. They just needed to focus on their breathing. 

They leaned against the wall, thankful for its cool surface, hoping to steady themself. 

In… Out… 

In… Out…

In… Out… 

Rhythmic breathing slowed their racing heart. Air stopping its fight in their lungs. Muscles no longer protesting as loudly. Whumpee’s body finally calmed from the stress of his waltz. 

They took a few more moments to themself, forehead pressed firmly against the plaster. Just breathing. Mind emptying. Preparing for a few more hours of struggle.

They could do this. 

“Whumpee.” A hand landed on their shoulder, warm and familiar. They jolted, spinning around. They froze once their gaze landed on Caretaker.

Her dress, a fitted corset around her middle that flowed out into a long skirt, was a striking cerulean color that complimented her eyes. There was a large collar that covered from her neck to her shoulder, decorated with sapphires, holding a sheer cape that flowed down to trail behind her. Her makeup used only various shades of blue, highlighting her dark skin. 

They felt their eyes water faintly at the sight of such a familiar face. It had been too long.

“C-Caretaker!” Whumpee cringed at their own voice, simultaneously too rough and too bright. “Wh-what a surprise. It’s been a while.” Whumpee tried to keep their cool. They couldn’t drag her into this, they wouldn’t, no matter how much they might want to.

A whirlwind of emotions flashed through Caretaker’s eyes, too quick for Whumpee to tell what she was feeling, before hardening, anger and determination shining through. “Where were you! I- We kept looking for weeks.” Her gaze saddened slightly, “I- I thought something had happened to you. When you didn’t answer after you went in… I was worried, and then the incident-”

“Well!” Whumpee clapped their hands together, effectively cutting off the woman. “As you can see I’m fine. Didn’t they tell you where I was? My comm broke, nothin’ serious.” They told her carefully. “And, you know I had that vacation lined up,” their lips stretched into a shaky smile. “That’s all. Nothing to get so worked up about!” They laughed. Whumpee hoped their expression was convincing enough.

“But-”

Whumpee sighed. “Look, I know I never reached out-”

“What- Never reached out! I sent you so many messages, you missed all my calls.” That was because Whumper had taken their phone. “You never miss my calls.” Whumpee stiffened. That was very true. They made sure to never miss a call from her again. “Then one day you just told me to stop contacting you completely!” They hadn’t known about that, though Whumpee wasn’t very surprised. 

Caretaker averted her gaze. “D-did I do something wrong? I would’ve left you alone if you had just told me what really happened.” She grabbed Whumpee’s hands. “I just- I-…” The woman paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “You’re someone I care deeply about, I thought we were close. I-I needed to make sure you were okay… I’m sorry.” Her body slumped, the rage and conviction seeping out, dropping Whumpee’s hands. All that was left was a tired, worried friend.

As they watched their partner deflate, Whumpee realized something. Here she was, one of the few people willing to look for them, and all Whumpee could do was brush them off. As much as they hated it, however, they were firm in their belief; they would not rope Caretaker into this. It was not safe. They had faith in her ability as a hero, but Whumpee had seen, had experienced, what Whumper could do first hand, and they would not take the risk. They would never forgive themself if something happened to her.

But they would not leave Caretaker with nothing either. 

Whumpee bent down, hoping to console their companion. “No, Caretaker, I-”

“You never introduced me to your lovely acquaintance here, dear.” Whumpee bolted back up, putting as much distance between the two of them as they could. The man now next to them, leaned down, extending a hand to Caretaker while the other wrapped around their waist. “Whumper. Whumpee’s fiance .”

Caretaker’s eyes widened in shock, recognition flashing, before she smoothed her expression out into a smile. “I see! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Caretaker, Whumpee’s friend, their partner.” She took his hand, squeezing tightly. They silently stared off at each other, before Whumper drew his hand back and straightened. “Y’know, Whumpee never mentioned they were dating anyone.” The accusation was clear in her tone.

Whumper’s fingers twitched. “Well, we wanted to keep our relationship a secret. Taking the time to tell everyone would be a hassle if we weren’t sure. And you know how annoying those pesky reporters can be.” The arm around their hips tightened slightly, a warning. “Right, Whumpee?”

Whumpee straightened, trying to school their face into that of a happily engaged person. “Y-Yes- yes, of course. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. A-as you can see,” they waved in his direction, “this was also part of why I took that time off.”

Don’t ask more. Do not ask more. Please.

“Huh… Then, when you set the wedding date do tell me Whumpee. I would love to come.” 

Whumper twitched again, his eyes darkening. “When we do, I’ll be sure you are the first one to know.” He shifted, turning slightly, planning to drag Whumpee off with him. “Now, there are-”

“Oh!” She grabbed Whumpee’s arm to stop them. Whumper glared at the offending limb, and Whumpee could practically see the violence run through his brain. “One more thing,” Caretaker’s smile became strained and her eyes narrowed. “Whumpee, when do you plan on getting back to work? I know you said you were taking a vacation, a very important one at that, but all vacations end, right? You’re very important to the agency, and the boss is starting to get worried. You’ll have to come back soon, you know how they get-” 

Whumper cut in, pulling them out of her grasp, not giving Whumpee a chance to speak, composure slipping. “No.” He glared down at Caretaker, who stiffened and glared back in response, fists at her sides. Whumper cleared his throat. “Now if you’ll excuse us, there are more introductions Whumpee and I must make. Come along, darling.” 

Whumper bent down, cupping Whumpee’s face and smashing their lips together. Instinctively, their hands went up to rest on his chest, neither pushing away nor pulling closer. The acrid tang of smoke invaded their nostrils and the sour taste of tobacco stuck to their tongue. Their eyes scrunched close, they didn’t want to do this in front of Caretaker. Whumper felt their resistance, tightening his arm painfully until they finally kissed back, instead wrapping their arms around his neck. 

Just sell it.

Whumpee felt Whumper instantly soften at their touch, as always, relaxing into the kiss. He kept them there together for another few seconds before they broke for air. 

When they turned to look at Caretaker, her face was filled with horror. Her arms were limp at her sides and she gawked at them with dread. Whumper smirked, a cat who got his cream, before turning and taking Whumpee along with him, the arm around their middle again a vice. 

While they walked away, Whumpee turned their head one last time to look at Caretaker, silently pleading that she didn’t pry even further. Caretaker nodded, hands once again fists, with determination in her eyes. 

Whumpee didn’t think that Caretaker understood what they were asking her to do. 

This wouldn’t end well.

[royalarchivist]

Bobby: Bye Jaiden great to have you here as always :)

Jaiden: AWW!!! 🥺💕

Roier: Oh, but when it's ME? But when it's ROIER—?!

Happy Mother's Day to q!Jaiden. I miss her, and our favorite little Mama's boy. 🥲

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Year - 2023 Edition

Welcome to our special edition newsletter recapping the best news from the past year. I've picked one highlight from each month to give you a snapshot of 2023. No frills, just straightforward news that mattered. Let's relive the good stuff that made our year shine.

January - London: Girl with incurable cancer recovers after pioneering treatment

A girl’s incurable cancer has been cleared from her body after what scientists have described as the most sophisticated cell engineering to date.

2. February - Utah legislature unanimously passes ban on LGBTQ conversion therapy

The Utah State Legislature has unanimously approved a bill that enshrines into law a ban on LGBTQ conversion therapy.

3. March - First vaccine for honeybees could save billions

The United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) has approved the world’s first-ever vaccine intended to address the global decline of honeybees. It will help protect honeybees from American foulbrood, a contagious bacterial disease which can destroy entire colonies.

4. April - Fungi discovered that can eat plastic in just 140 days

Australian scientists have successfully used backyard mould to break down one of the world's most stubborn plastics — a discovery they hope could ease the burden of the global recycling crisis within years. 

5. May - Ocean Cleanup removes 200,000th kilogram of plastic from the Pacific Ocean

The Dutch offshore restoration project, Ocean Cleanup, says it has reached a milestone. The organization's plastic catching efforts have now fished more than 200,000 kilograms of plastic out of the Pacific Ocean, Ocean Cleanup said on Twitter.

6. June - U.S. judge blocks Florida ban on care for trans minors in narrow ruling, says ‘gender identity is real’

A federal judge temporarily blocked portions of a new Florida law that bans transgender minors from receiving puberty blockers, ruling Tuesday that the state has no rational basis for denying patients treatment.

7. July - World’s largest Phosphate deposit discovered in Norway

A massive underground deposit of high-grade phosphate rock in Norway, pitched as the world’s largest, is big enough to satisfy world demand for fertilisers, solar panels and electric car batteries over the next 50 years, according to the company exploiting the resource.

8. August - Successful room temperature ambient-pressure magnetic levitation of LK-99

If the claim by Sukbae Lee and Ji-Hoon Kim of South Korea’s Quantum Energy Research Centre holds up, the material could usher in all sorts of technological marvels, such as levitating vehicles and perfectly efficient electrical grids.

9. September - World’s 1st drug to regrow teeth enters clinical trials

The ability to regrow your own teeth could be just around the corner. A team of scientists, led by a Japanese pharmaceutical startup, are getting set to start human trials on a new drug that has successfully grown new teeth in animal test subjects.

10. October - Nobel Prize goes to scientists behind mRNA Covid vaccines

The Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine has been awarded to a pair of scientists who developed the technology that led to the mRNA Covid vaccines. Professors Katalin Kariko and Drew Weissman will share the prize.

11. November - No cases of cancer caused by HPV in Norwegian 25-year olds, the first cohort to be mass vaccinated for HPV.

Last year there were zero cases of cervical cancer in the group that was vaccinated in 2009 against the HPV virus, which can cause the cancer in women.

12. December - President Biden announces he’s pardoning all convictions of federal marijuana possession

President Joe Biden announced Friday he's issuing a federal pardon to every American who has used marijuana in the past, including those who were never arrested or prosecuted.

------

And there you have it – a year's worth of uplifting news! I hope these positive stories brought a bit of joy to your inbox. As I wrap up this special edition, I want to thank all my supporters!

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

[multifandomgirl08]

Mini Verstappen Series Masterlist

Paring: Single Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

At the end of 2020, Max Verstappen gets the surprise of his life when he finds out that his ex-girlfriend had given birth to a son, his son. A year and a half later Max's longtime girlfriend of 8 months finds out about his son Nico.

This is an ongoing series. I'm always adding to it. The masterlist changes often.

I do take requests for this. If there is anything that you want to see happen in this series just message me in my ask box. All of my normal request rules apply.

Reader Face Claim: Hande Erçel

Total Published Word Count: 63,776 Words

Disclaimer: This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction, so enjoy it as such.

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑂𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟

0.0. Prologue - [December 2020]

Max finds out that he has a son. And it changes his world.

0.1. Be Something You'll Love and Understand [December 2020] Outtakes

He knew that he should have called his mom yesterday but he was still wrapping his head around the idea of being a father.

0.5. The Moment You Smiled At Me - [November 2021]

The evening that started it all for Max and Reader.

1. Mini Verstappen - [July 2022]

You get a small surprise the first time you visit Max’s apartment.

1.5. Girlfriend? - [October 2022] Request

You meet Nico.

1.8. Caught - [June 4, 2023] 18+ Outtakes

Lando swears he knocked before walking into Max's hotel room, maybe he should have yelled before opening the door.

2. Change - [November 26, 2023 + January 2, 2024]

It’s the end of the F1 season. Some things are changing for the Verstappen's.

SMAU #1. The Secrets Out - [December 31, 2023 - January 1, 2024]

It’s the start of a new year. You and Max decide to tell the world about Nico.

3. A Lioness Protects Her Cub - [May 5 - 9, 16, 23, 2024] Request

Reporters are vultures and Max picks out a ring.

4. Day At The Karting Track - [June 15, 2024]

Nico starts karting. It opens a small can of worms.

4.5 The Engagement - [August 15 - 16, 2024]

He moved his hand over yours, moving the engagement ring that he placed on your finger, side to side.

SMAU #2. Through Max's Eyes - [March 8, July 30 - August 15, 2024]

Max’s Instagram posts about Y/N, and a small life update from the couple.

5. Something Bad, Something Good - [August 17 - 19, 2024] Request

Reader deals with the haters on Twitter, Nico calls Reader Mama. Max claps back at the haters on Instagram like the malewife that he strives to be.

5.5 Time to Move? - [August 25, September 15, 2024]

When Max had brought up moving, it was because the lease on his apartment was going to be up at the end of the year. Maybe it was time to find a new place for all of you.

6. Race Day - [October 20, 2024] Request

Nico tags along with Max during a race day in Monza, well as much as he can.

6.1 Wedding Headcanon - [February 2, 2025]

Headcanons from Max and the Reader's wedding. Social Media posts from their honeymoon.

6.5. Give and Take (Kind of Love We Make) - [February 28, 2025] 18+ Request (The Morning After)

Max had a plan in his head for the evening. He had mapped out the track before, and intended to keep to his strategy until they got home.

6.7. To Constantly Be Away - [March 10, 2025]

Second race of the season and Max is already having a tough time with the car. Missing his family only makes it worse.

7. From Three to Four - [April 4, 2025]

Reader tells Max that your expecting, he doesn't have the best reaction at first.

8. Stones To Throw At My Creator - [July 2025]

He wasn't his father. He would never raise Nico like that.

SMAU #3. The Verstappens - [January 8, February 2, May 26, December 3, 2025]

Big things happen to Max and the reader in 2025. Moving, getting married, and a little surprise that neither of them were expecting.

8.7 Give Me Eyes To See - [December 7, 2025]

Nikita's first few days at home. Flashbacks to moments from the reader's pregnancy.

8.8 Nikita's First Christmas - [December 24-25, 2025]

Nico's first Christmas with his baby brother.

8.9 Ghost of Bittersweet Memories - [January 25, 2026]

A few of the drivers visit you and Max for the day, and you end up talking with Charles about a woman that he meets at an FIA event. (This is the conversation I referenced in Part 2 of Bittersweet.)

9. Glass Houses - [February 17, 22, 23, 2026]

When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

9.5. All That I Can Give - [May 10, 2026]

Another Mother's Day and one of Nikita's firsts.

9.7. On Sleepless Roads, The Sleepless Go - [December 2-3, 2026]

It's the early hours of Nikita's first birthday, and you can't help but look back at the day you brought your son into the world.

SMAU #4. A Year in Moments - [February 10, May 28, August 2 & 27, October 22 & 31, 2026]

10. Redline - [May 25, 2027]

"I'm sorry, mijn leeuwin. I know you were excited to announce it to everyone."

10.5. Mommy and Me - [May 31 - June 6, 2027] Request

Late one evening after dinner Y/N brought up the idea to Max for her to take Nico out for the day.

11. X3 - [July 8-9, 2027]

“Hallo, kleine welp,” Max said.

11.5. She's Not Acid Nor Alkaline - [December 2027]

Max and Reader have a night away from the kids in Santorini for the 2027 FIA Prize Giving Gala.

SMAU #5. Welcoming Another Verstappen - [2027]

12. Hey, Little Sister - [March 27 - November 20, 2028]

SMAU #6. - [2028]

13. The End of An Era - [November 2030]

The days leading up to Max retiring from Formula 1. The Article announcing his retirement. And the last race of his F1 career.

14. Right On Track - [2036]

Checking in with the Verstsppens in 2036.

15. Letters From The Past - [November 17, 2038]

Max and Reader sit down to read the letters that Amelia (Nico's birth mom) wrote.

𝐸 𝒳 𝒯 𝑅 𝒜 𝒮

Pinterest Board

Playlist

Paring Evolution

Timeline

Dividers made by @cafekitsune | Banner made by me

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127 , @mysticalnightenthusiast , @green-thots , @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp

[akanemnon]

Ready?

Twin Runes started at January 29, 2023

Kris meets Chara at March 5 2023

They enter the Dark world at June 25 2023

Kris meets Papyrus at July 9 2023

The group enters UT at July 25 2023

The group meets Undyne at August 27 2023

Frisk realizes about the player controlling them at September 10 2023

Chara returns to the group at September 24 2023

Castle town gets set on fire at October 15 2023

Chara becomes alive(?) at October 29 2023

A Dark fountain is made at November 2023

The group re-enter the Light World at January 28 2024

They enter the flower shop Dark World (if I can call it that) at March 10 2024

They meet fake Flowey at March 24 2024

Chara and Ralsei come back at March 31 2024

They meet Redge and Patt at April 14 2024

The group learn about Chara's past at May 12 2024

They meet The Bitch (that I wanna strangle) at July 14 2024

Susie, Ralsei, and Chara get lost at August 11 2024

Frisk sees their genocidal side at August 18 2024

To be continued...

Those sure are the longest two days ever (mostly one day).

Yes, before people ask again so far the story takes place over the course of two days. Pages 1-7 is one day (or like half of one) and the rest the second day. You can even see time passing at certain points, like how the sun starts to set from pages 44-49. It's not much of a spoiler when I say that the Dark World adventure will end in the middle of the night.

It mainly just seems longer because of the release schedule.

[tommeraas-cc]

Infant Sawyer Sweatshirt (#44) & Sawyer Sweatpants (#45) - TØMMERAAS

super happy with how this conversion turned out! i have been using it in my own personal game a ton :) the top and bottom are separated so you can mix and match! Sorry if the preview photo is not as focused on the outfit, the poses available for infants are still pretty slim, so i decided to use the family from my current save.

here is a link to the toddler version if you want your kiddos to match :)

☆ general info ☆ - infant m/f (tagged both masculine and feminine) - top & bottom categories - custom thumbnails for each swatch - 25 swatches - new mesh (base game compatible)

☆ technical specs ☆ - all LODs - LOD 0 polycount (top): 5118 - LOD 0 polycount (bottom): 3448 - all maps - HQ compatible (in-game photo taken with HQ enabled)

please do not repost anywhere, thanks! if you recolor, do not include the mesh.

✿ Download on Patreon ✿ (early access)

⇩ Download on SimsFinds ⇩ (public release)

Infant Sawyer Sweatshirt (#44) ✿ here ✿ Infant Sawyer Sweatpants (#45) ✿ here ✿

Public release links will activate starting April 20th, 2023

[carriesthewind]

Good evening everyone! As I said in an answer to a previous ask, there wasn't a public call-in line to listen to the Show Cause Hearing in Mata v Avianca (the ChatGBT lawyer case) today.

However, while we are waiting for a transcript of the hearing (because there was a court reporter! yay!) and a written decision by the judge, we did get this absolutely anxiety-inducing live tweet of the hearing:

(Caveat: this thread was not an official transcript of the hearing and should not be taken as such. It is possible the actual events and statements made in the hearing differ significantly from this report - i.e., take this with a grain of salt and reserve final judgement for the actual transcript.)

I'll put the full thread with some (light) commentary below the cut.* But the overall impression I am left with is that the judge seems to feel this pair of attorneys are treating their duty of candor toward the tribunal with the same seriousness with which they are treating their duty of competence to their clients. (And in this case, that's a very bad thing.)

*The full thread except for a soon-to-follow part 2 because I ran out of space for images again.

(All of the following screenshots are from the above tweet thread by Inner City Press @ innercitypress on twitter, made on June 8, 2023.)

Normally I would overlook that "you, personally," but in this case, you really get the feeling that the judge is concerned that LoDuca might just start talking about what Schwartz did again.

Establishing LoDuca's base of knowledge - he should know how to look up cases and check if they are real; he should know what a real case looks like.

The March 1 submission was the plaintiff's opposition to the motion to dismiss, where they first cited the fake cases.

How bad this answer is depends, I think, on LoDuca's wording here. Best case scenario, his statement about Schwartz was a specific statement about what inquiry was reasonable for him to do under the circumstances (which - for that first filing - I think is actually a reasonable argument. You don't expect your colleague to just make up cases). Worst case, this reads like him trying to wiggle out of his obligations. I will withhold judgement until I see the official transcript.

Rule 11, by the way, refers to Rule 11 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure. Rule 11(b) states:

(If you remember the Order to Show Cause, we are dealing with a Rule 11(b)(2) issue here. Rule 11(c) allows the court to impose sanctions for violations of Rule 11(b))

Oh no, bad answer. (If anyone reading this is good at photoshop, I cannot express how badly I want a version of the "this sign can't stop me because I can't read" meme with the sign being the quote from defendant's reply where they say, "The undersigned has not been able to locate this case by caption or citation, nor any case bearing any resemblance to it.")

Oh that is not a good way of characterizing those orders. (Those were the orders, remember, where the Court said, "By April 18, 2022, Peter LoDuca, counsel of record for plaintiff, shall file an affidavit annexing copies of the following cases cited in his submission to this Court: as set forth herein. Failure to comply will result in dismissal of the action pursuant to Rule 41 (b), Fed. R. Civ. P.")

I would simply perish on the spot.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention in my original attempted summary of "Varghese" - the first paragraph states that it is a wrongful death suit by the widow of the passenger. Then the second paragraph states that the passenger was denied boarding on a flight due to overbooking and thus missed his connecting flight and therefore incurred additional expenses. The case was such nonsense that I legitimately forgot about that inconsistency by the time I got to the end.

Your honor I plead "2 stupid 2 sanction."

(I believe the "different fonts" is in reference to the April 25 affidavit, in which the case names - and some of the surrounding text - are in a different font from most of the text in the affidavit. It seems like this is because they may have been copied straight from ChatGPT. See e.g., #3 below. It's hard to tell just based on this twitter thread, though.)

A short and simple answer! You did it!

"I have all the answers I need" is not a good sentence in this context.

Very genuinely: shorter is better here. At least I don't think he hurt himself with that statement.

Judge Castel: How do you conduct legal research?

Schwartz: I research cases.

Judge Castel: Do you read them?

Schwartz: Well, I may have once upon a time, but after hearing you ask that question in this context, I have decided to retire from the practice of law forever and also possibly sink into the ground and die. Also, by answering "yes," here, I just realized that I'm either admitting that I read the cases I submitted and therefore must have known they were fake, or else I just possibly committed perjury. Oh shit oh fuck.

Oh god I'm cringing myself into a pretzel just reading this.

Hey, by the way? You can actually use google (esp. google scholar) to do legal research. (It's not a good tool and you will miss things, but it will do in a pinch.) But. Um. If you know that...why didn't you double check your cases at very least on google when you were told they seemed to be made up?

So, once again, I am going to withhold judgement until I see the actual transcript. That said, if Schwartz did say this, I would like to compare it briefly to a part of the chat transcript he provided to the court. Here is the first question asked about the Montreal Convention in the provided transcript:

"analysis"

Oh god. I can't even provide commentary on this one. I hope this is worse than the actual transcript will prove to be. I'm reading through my fingers like I'm watching a horror movie.

"Misperception" (or "misconception") doesn't work once you have evidence that should cause you to doubt - like not being able to find a case that was supposedly published in the Federal fucking Reporter.

This is overshooting "2 stupid 2 sanction" into "too stupid to function."* You either looked for "Varghese" or you didn't. If you looked for "Varghese," it is not credible that you continued to have a good faith assumption that ChatGPT couldn't lie. If you didn't look up "Varghese," you just lied to the Court under oath.

*Just to be clear: for an ordinary person, this would be a very understandable lack of knowledge issue. A lawyer has no excuse not to know this.

Judge Castel: Mr. Schwartz, I think you have the fucking audacity to try to lie to me to my face in my fucking courtroom.

Honestly at this point I'm surprised he could still talk. I think screaming, "I'm melting, I'm melting!" as he vanished into steam, leaving his crumpled suit behind, would be an appropriate response.

NO.

Oh no, oh honey.

Ok. Two options here (again, assuming he actually fucking said "They said they couldn't find them," in response to the Court asking, "When Avianca said you cited non existent cases?"):

Schwartz is once again trying to purposefully downplay what the defendant's reply brief actually said and dodge responsibility.

Schwartz honestly, truly believes that when the defendant filed a reply containing the line, "The undersigned has not been able to locate this case by caption or citation, nor any case bearing any resemblance to it," they were just asking for assistance with their legal research?!??!

I honestly don't know which is worse.

Oh no....

Oh man, I haven't gone over it here yet, but I think that "I looked up the judge" is a panicked attempt at bringing up a talking point the Professional Responsibility Lawyers raised in their memorandum of law. (Again, I'm giving this reading of his response with the caveat that it is based only on this thread, not the official transcript, which might read very differently and contain different/more info.) The Professional Responsibility attorneys noted in a footnote that two of the judges listed in the "opinion," including the "author," were actual 11th circuit judges, and the other is an actual 5th circuit judge. My read of this footnote was as an extra little detail tossed in by the Professional Responsibility attorneys to try to dress up their argument that the "opinions" had various "indicia of authenticity."

But here's the problem. If Schwartz is telling the truth - if he was reading carefully and critically enough that he bothered to look up the judge (why would you do that if you didn't think the case might be fake?!) there is no way he could have missed that the case was gibberish. Again, if this is really what he said at the hearing, he either lied in the hearing, or he must have know the "opinions" were bogus when he gave them to LoDuca to file.

"Did it cross your mind" - if the court actually said this, oh my god.

Hey, that's the point that I made in my original post(s)!

This whole thing about the "+h" to "th" with the notary date is from the recent affidavits filed on 6/6/23, you can read them about them if you want, I'll be honest, I don't really care as much about the notary stuff so I'm going to skip it for the moment.

....and I've run out of space for images again. Part II to follow shortly!

[greynatomy]

lucy bronze social media au

face claim - taylor hill

finally finished this

———

liked by user1, user2 and 5,748 others

enews Longtime couple, Y/N Y/LN and Timothée Chalamet have reportedly split, sources say. The couple have been on the rocks for a while after a video of Timothée has been seen circulating the internet getting cozy with a mystery girl.

Read more with the link in our bio!

view all comments

user1 love doesn’t exist anymore

user2 bout time she left him

↳ user9 she was always way out of his league

user3 damn! timmy tim broke up with a whole supermodel for some rando

user4 bet he gon try running back to her in a week

march 17, 2020

liked by user1, user2 and 224,738 others

yourinstagram my favorite sidekick 💙

view all comments

user1 she said ‘forget about timmy here’s me and my dog’

user2 so beautiful!

user3 go out with me now that tims not in the picture

liked by user1, lucybronze and 746,804 others

yourinstagram beach bum 🌞

view all comments

user1 great view, but i prefer to look into your eyes

user2 u got a little sand on you

user3 where is this bikini from?!

june 25, 2020

liked by user1, user2 and 12,474 others

tmz Y/N Y/LN seen holding hands with a new partner just months after her breakup with longtime boyfriend- now ex - timothée chalamet, in manchester, united kingdom.

click the link in our bio to read more!

view all comments

user1 she’s back!

user2 she’s already with someone else? girl is going around

↳ user3 tim moved on while in a relationship bffr

↳ user4 it’s been six months that’s a long time

september 5, 2020

liked by user1, user2 and 5,637 others

enews Y/N Y/LN just deactivated her instagram account just before the new year starts!

click the link in our bio to read more!

view all comments

use3 what? no!

user4 good! she wasn’t good enough for timothee anyway!

↳ user5 girl bffr he cheated on her. good for her for leaving!

user6 hope she comes back soon!

december 31, 2020

liked by gigihadid, taylorswift and 10,748 others

view all comments

user1 IS THAT A RING?

user2 miss girl comes back from the dead and just drops a pic

enews Y/N Y/LN engaged? click our bio to find out more!

↳ user3 she’s not back more than 5 seconds and you already have an article up

↳ user4 fr give her a break

march 10, 2023

liked by alexiaputellas, leahwilliamsonn and 11,748 others

view all comments

user1 wait… are these wedding photos??

user2 did she get married?

user3 what’s with the no caption post again??

tmz click the link in our bio to find out more out more on this marriage

↳ user4 you and enews need to fuck off!

user5 what’s the barca and england team doing in the likes??

april 22, 2023

liked by lucybronze, gigihadid and 5,839,648 others

yourinstagram @/victoriasecret world tour is out now!

loved to be in wings again 👼

view all comments

lucybronze ❤️❤️❤️

↳ yourinstagram ❤️❤️❤️

gigihadid so glad to share the vs runway with you again!

↳ yourinstagram love ya gi!

user1 are we just gonna ignore her last two posts??

user2 acting like she didn’t break the internet

user3 what is lucy bronze doing here?

↳ user4 and most of the barca and england team liking??

may 15, 2023

liked by user1, user2 and 5,738 others

ynupdates yn seen at the barcelona women’s game with a friend!

view all comments

user3 has she been in barcelona this whole time??

↳ user4 is that why paps haven’t been able to find her?

user5 since when was she into sports?

user6 guys i’m at the same place as her right now and she’s in the friends and family section!!

↳ user7 OMGG WHO IS SHE THERE FOR

↳ user8 IS SHE A WAG? FOR WHOOOOO?????

liked by user1, user2 and 7,748 others

enews Y/N Y/LN spotted in public after 2 years since deactivating instagram. Since activating her account again, it has been scrubbed of all posts except some new ones which look to be about her wedding. Y/N Y/LN is a very taken woman ladies and gents.

Click the link in our bio to read more!

view all comments

user3 enews is already back on y/n’s tail

user4 she’s in barca’s friends and family section

↳ user5 how do you know

↳ user4 i’ve been to a couple games and that’s where it is

liked by user1, user2 and 5,445 others

ynupdates y/n posted and deleted this video from her insta stories. did she marry a woman? did she have a baby?

view all comments

user3 wouldn’t be surprising if she did. she’s been very open about being bi

↳ user4 didn’t she used to date hailee steinfeld

↳ user5 yeah but she said they were better as friends

user6 no longer supporting y/n

↳ user7 good riddance to you!

user8 if she did have a baby, she really is mother now

tmz can we use this photo?

↳ ynupdates no the fuck you can’t! leave mother alone!

liked by lucybronze, onabatlle and 10,638,637 others

yourinstagram made a little oopsie yesterday so… surprise 🤷🏻‍♀️ @/lucybronze

view all comments

lucybronze love my little family ❤️

↳ yourinstagram i love you 💕

keirawalsh just want to put it out there that i am the favorite aunt

↳ leahwilliamsonn you’re the godmother you don’t get to be the favorite aunt too

alexiaputellas amo a mi pequeña bebé

↳ yourinstagram te amo tia alexia - baby bronze ❤️

↳ user4 omg baby bronze ugh 😩

user1 AHHHH FINALLY

user2 she’s off the market

user3 mother is a MOTHER

1maryearps my favorite milf

[breachverse]

Breach: Chicago War Zone - WIP Update 18 - 26th of August 2023

... This one's actually been brewing for 6 months, so... 1 Million Words folks!

Update 21 has been released! Last public upload was pretty much a year ago so, I'm very sorry for the long silence, a lot of the updates have been mostly in the private testing phase on Patreon, but I am here with a bunch of fixes and hangout updates.

But most importantly... We've passed the 1 Million Words mark... My fingers are tired. ❤

You may play it on the link below.

Breach: Chicago War Zone (Updated)

DEVELOPMENT LOG#21 (15-April-2024)

(B2.1.1.24.4.15)

Alpha - 21

Fixed something here, fixed something there, fixed something everywhere

SideModule: Fixed Justin's hangout background

SideModule: Fixed Hayne's hangout background

SideModule: Added Anna's 1st hangout

SideModule: Added Charlie's 1st hangout

SideModule: Added Kaz's 1st hangout

SideModule: Added Carly's 1st hangout

Stats_Page: Added Archangel crew background notes

UniModule: Added 7 new weapons to the shop

MISC: Added AA-12

MISC: Added FAMAS G2

MISC: Added HK G36C

MISC: Added SIG MPX

MISC: Added PP-19 Vityaz

MISC: Added Ultimax 100

MISC: Added SR-25

COMPLETED: Chapter 3 Part 1 of The ARC branch (100%) (PT only) W.I.P.: AA Hangout Part 1 (86%) W.I.P.: AA Store system (85%) W.I.P.: FBI Hangout Part 1 (46%) W.I.P.: FBI Store system (65%) W.I.P.: Stat screen upgrade (40%) Word Count: 1,007,622 words including codes (Last update was 971,142)

I'll be completely honest, when I started Breach 2 I knew it was going to surpass 1 million words. I just didn't think it would take this long. Through numerous challenges, both in writing and in real life. Through numerous ups and downs, I'm absolutely surprised and grateful to know that there are people out there who still support me. I've had many thoughts, numerous times, to give up and move on to other things in life, but I didn't want to disappoint, so I kept writing.

I bring to you, the 1 million milestone update. It's really not much, but it is one step closer to completion. This update has been in the works for the past 6 months mostly due to the weapons rework and also story changes for the crew members that I apparently couldn't keep track of without a giant excel spreadsheet. This update finalizes the Archangel's Gamma Crew hangouts, which is Kaz and Carly's hangout as well as Anna and Charlie's hangout.

As before, they share the same storyline so they will both share the same hangout. If you choose to go out with one, you cannot go out with the other. Kaz shares it with Carly, and Anna shares it with Charlie. Keep that in mind. Oh, and there's 7 new guns to play with. Have fun, Ian.

This update does not include the new Chapters. Chapter 3 will still be Patreon exclusive until Breach 2 finishes and I can send the demo to the public testing, and to CoG for the full release.

I really cannot reiterate how grateful I am to have an amazing array of readers and supporters who are still here after numerous hiccups and fuck ups. Thank you all, so very much.

Much, much love. - Max ❤

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[orchidyoonkook]

Under The Willow Tree | MYG

Title: Under The Willow Tree   

Pairing: Bad Boy!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (T) | One Shot, Small Town AU, S2F2L, Implied Age Gap, Slow Burn, Angst, Touch of Fluff, Darker Subject Matter, First Kiss, Silce of Life

Summary: The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

Warnings: PG16, some not necessarily positive non-specific religious discussions, people using religion in a negative may, plot twisty, cursing, kissing, semi-apparent abandonment issues, discussions of dead parents and guardians, mentions of alcoholism in a parent, mentions of illness in a parent, yoongi has tattoos and a motorcycle, motorcycle lessons, longing, mishandled emotions, catharsis.

Word Count: 7401

Release Date: April 10, 2023, 4:05PM

A/N 1: This happened due to a writing prompts post I shared sometime in late march. I’m quite proud of it considering I hadn’t planned anything so the entire story was written as I was writing. Very different than my normal writing process. 

A/N 2: Thank you endlessly to @borahae-k​, @katykatmeow​, @here4btsfics​ and @phthartic-fox​​ for beta’ing this. I love you all for your help, support and kindness. 

It happened under a willow tree. A weeping willow.

Your favourite willow, to be specific. Even though there’s just the one.

It’s by the pond deep in the woods behind your house, where you watch ducks swim through the long, wispy branches that just reach its shore. Where you sit at the base, waiting for the sun to set the sky ablaze with colour as it falls into the horizon for another good night's sleep.

The one under which you had your first kiss.

You’d been waiting. Wanting it to be special, with the right person.

But a brief brush of soft, pink lips with the last person you ever expected had you wanting more, more, more.

It’d been a few months since he started coming to the willow. You’d assumed for the same reason you did.

To get away. From anyone and everything.

There aren’t many places in your hometown that allow for privacy, and you imagined he needed it more than anyone. Somewhere far from the residents' judgmental stares that were always nothing less than smothering.

Hailing from a very small, very rural, religious town where everybody’s known everyone for generations, your community is one where you follow in the footsteps of your parents and grandparents before them.

Where your life is already decided for you at birth, whether you know it or not.

Copy. Paste.

Copy.

Paste.

You’re born there; either at home with a midwife or in the one floor hospital down the main road. Raised there; a hand-me-down wearing, bike riding, creek-playing child.

You go to school there; stuck inside the same four walls from the ages of 4 to 18. Get your driver's licence there; from the sheriff after a road test that a 9 year old could pass.

You graduate there; from the same high school your friends, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents went to. Get a job; in town or on a farm, the only two options there are. 

And marry there; before 25, lest you become a spinster, subject to the gossip vultures also known as your neighbours. Then have some kids before growing old and dying, your permanent resting place dug in the same graveyard as everyone else that came before you.

Copy. 

Paste.

It’s a suffocating fate that petrified you to your core. And you’ve known you didn’t want it for as long as you can remember.

You never liked their rules. Didn’t want to become one of them, to do as they do, live the way they live.

You’d skillfully escaped making any true friends as you grew older, but kept the people you could tolerate close enough to not be bored on weekends. They’re all temporary placeholders in your life anyway, people who sound like robots stuck in the same settings. People who would hold you back.

What’s worst of all is that you don’t share the religion they claim to be so hallowed and wonderful. The one that’s unwittingly forced them all into this life of monotonous repetition.

You dream of more. Of life outside this dreaded purgatory.

Of leaving.

But no one ever leaves. They’re stuck here, in this downwards spiral of life you’re so desperately trying to dig yourself out of. It makes you feel like a fraud, constantly pretending to be one of them. Always wearing a mask just to make it to the next day alive, unharmed by them and their values.

It makes you feel like there’s always a pair of eyes watching, waiting for you to mess up and reveal your blasphemous self.

You’re terrified they’ll discover the truth. Terrified of the ostracisation that will come the second they know you aren’t one of them.

You’ve seen it in real time. What they do to people who don’t conform.

Seen how they treat him.

Two years older. Bleach blond hair and a sleeve full of tattoos. A leather jacket he wears like armour with all black clothes to match. And last, but certainly not least, a motorcycle.

You daydreamed about that bike. Taking it and riding far, far away.

The busybodied people of your town never had a kind word to be said about him. Instead, choosing to call him any and every horrible name under the sun.

Beast, bastard, demon, monster, criminal.

Unable to understand him, understand anyone different.

They herd their children away from him in the streets; parting like the Red Sea when he walks by.

As if he were acid.

As if he was evil itself, and not just a young man.

You’ve never even heard him speak because no one dares to talk to him, worried any contact could turn them, seduce them into whatever his sick ways were.  

And you’re ashamed to admit you’re one of them…sort of.

You aren’t worried about speaking to him, you’re worried about what being seen speaking with him will do to you.

You’re someone whose only salvation from complete and total social isolation relies on fitting in.

And even if it kills you to pretend, you only need to do it for a little while longer.

You just had to make it to college. You’d be the first one in decades to go. Their mindset of ‘you have everything you need here so why bother leaving’  having not once in your life resonated.

You can deal with them and all of their beliefs about what you should do with your life for the short hours of school and occasional shifts at the diner, so long as you can escape to your willow tree, you’ll be okay.

The weeping willow in the middle of the forest behind your house is the only one in the area. You never understood why that is, but it’s your oasis away from everything you hate.

The tips of its branches sway rhythmically in the wind, and moss creeps up its trunk. It’s surrounded by dense, plush grass for you to sit on, and after all the years of sitting in the same spot, a little groove in the shape of your body has formed at its base. 

Its canopy protects you from the outside world, creating a space where you don't have to hide. Where you can proudly be yourself without fear. Where you spend as much of your time as you possibly can to keep your sanity intact.

No one bothers you here.

Your mum died years ago from an illness they never diagnosed, her plot in the town’s graveyard long since filled.

And your dad never notices you gone, too drunk in your house up on the hill to care.

So as long as there’s a constant supply of food on the counter and beer in the fridge, you’re free to do as you please.

Under the willow you do your homework and sketch. You take pictures and eat breakfasts and lunches and dinners. You listen to music and dance under the safety of its shade.

Under the willow you read great adventure novels, and dream you’re the protagonists whisked away on grand adventures. Anywhere but here.

Under the willow is your home away from home. Next to the pond, under the stars.

So it’s to your great surprise when an unexpected guest pries open the curtain of flowing foliage one spring afternoon. A bleached blond, leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding, guest.

You don’t see him at first, too focused on the sketchpad in front of you. He steps in, and watches you work quietly, waiting for you to notice him.

You fascinate him. Every other girl in town can be found at one of three places, yet you were never at any of them. Not at the restaurant sipping on a milkshake. Not at the library studying. And not at the church volunteering. 

You’re always elsewhere. 

And he’s finally figured out where that is. 

He was nervous at first. To follow you. You’d never spoken but that wasn’t anything new to him. No one in this town ever did. 

Not to him.

But you don’t look down at him like the others do. Or jump out of the way when he walks by. You don’t tear away from his gaze as fast as the others. You hold on, even if for just a second longer. 

Unknowingly, you’ve captivated him more than anyone else he’s ever met.

So he followed you to see where you vanish off to, not expecting you to go into the forest behind your house. 

For a half second he considered you dangerous, because what on earth could you be getting up to in a forest for hours? But as he trailed the sounds of your footsteps and saw the small clearing with the tree, it began to make sense.

After jumping ten feet from seeing something tall and dark in your periphery, you exhale a large breath when you realise you aren’t in any danger, and shake out the nerves. 

You’d normally worry he was there to hurt you, but something in you knew he never would. Never could. Maybe it was the look he gave as he regarded you. 

Soft. Wistful even.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, wary. The first words you’ve ever spoken to him.

Barely contained inside the limits of the willows perimeter, he shrugs, and takes a long look around your little sanctuary.

And as he does, you get your first real look at him.

He’s handsome. Stoically so. And for only a moment do you wonder about all the stories hidden behind his eyes.  

The ones now focused on you.

“Wanted to see where you disappear to. You’re never in town.”

So what if you were never in town? Why did he care? Wait—How did he know? Does he pay attention to you?

…Why you?

You didn’t think he cared to notice anyone in this town, let alone you enough to know you don’t follow the social expectations of someone your age.

To pick up on the fact that you’re never there at all.

It makes a million things run through your mind—Why does he care about where you go? What about you is so special? Does he even know your name?—before one resounding thought hits you like a ton of bricks.

Can you trust him?

No one else in this town does, but all of their reasons are superficial bullshit.

All you know is you don’t know the first thing about him, and that now he knows about the one place you feel safe.

“That’s intentional,” you say, cautious. Not giving away anything but not saying much either.

“Can’t blame you,” he responds, before checking out the rooftop of bright green and muttering, “Eyes and ears everywhere.”

Those four words alone are all you need. 

He gets it.

“Yeah.”

Maybe you can trust him.

Observing each other for a silent minute, there seems to be an unspoken understanding forming between the two of you.

And he shoves his hands in his pockets, asking, “Mind company?”

You think about it for only a second.

No. No you didn’t.

“As long as you’re quiet. I’m trying to focus,” pointing the eraser end of your pencil to the sketchpad on your lap. “The cattail leaves are the hardest to get the lines right.”

He nods, finally breaking free of his position at the branch's edge. Nearing the base of the tree, he crouches down, about a quarter of the trunk's diameter away from you. It’s close enough to still see each other, but far enough to not bump into one another.

And before nestling in fully, he extends a tattooed hand to you.

“Yoongi.”

An introduction.

“Y/N,” you return, putting your pencil down in the crease of your pad and shaking.

His hand is calloused, the ones you get from years of working with your hands. And strong, a firm grip. The kind you’d want to pull you up if you were dangling over a cliff. 

So many stories contained in a 3 second touch. Yet you find yourself wanting to know all of them.

Releasing, he settles in.

What surprises you most about the whole encounter isn’t his arrival, or speaking to him for the first time, or even the handshake.

It’s that when he’s comfortable, with one leg up for an elbow to rest upon, he digs a book out from the confines of his jacket.

Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island.

Your favourite.

Spring fades into a wonderful summer of late nights and early mornings. Of beautiful blue skies and vivid sunsets you appreciate a little more now that you have someone to share them with.

Yoongi comes almost, if not, every day to the willow. Always a different book in hand. Always one of the classics.

The Iliad, 1984, Jane Eyre, Moby Dick, Anna Karina, Dracula, Little Women, Frankenstein, Catcher in the Rye, and those are just the ones you can remember because you’ve read them too. Some of them more than once.

You never expected to have anything in common with the boy that sits next to you. But from the little you’ve spoken to one another over the months, you’ve found that you share so much more than just reading habits.

On a warm April afternoon he told you he reads because he loves it but also to escape the daily hell that is your town.

    “Mmm, what’s your favourite?” you’d asked.

    Yoongi was lying down with an arm behind his head, staring into the treetop. Brave New World sat opened and facedown on his chest, his hand resting atop it.

    “Pride and Prejudice.”

    That was the last answer you expected.

    “Why?”

    He lifts his head to look at you.

    “I thought the answer would’ve been obvious.”

After a cold drink on a hot June morning he told you his dreams of moving across the country. As far away as he could get.

    “Just have to save up enough money first.”

    You wondered how he made any. He definitely didn’t work anywhere in town…maybe waiting to inherit?

    Who knew?

    Both on a blanket you’d brought, Yoongi’s lying opposite and beside you, his feet by your hips. He used his balled up jacket as a pillow while you sat in your usual spot, capturing the way the branches swayed in your sketchpad.

    He’d taken to reading to you while you drew, including you in the grand stories he now knew you loved to read too.

    That day he had The Great Gatsby, a story you’d read about 20 times.

    You often dreamed of attending one of his parties. Of seeing the green light across the way, or having a conversation with Nick, why he stayed.

    “Are you anywhere close?” you asked, in reference to his saving goals.           

    “Getting there,” was all he gave.

And on a miserable, rainy night in the middle of August, is when you learned he’s all on his own.

    Sitting beside each other, you both huddled underneath his jacket for what little protection from the rain it could give. Water droplets fell from the tips of his bangs as he spoke.

    “My parents died in a car crash when I was 9, and then my grandma who took care of me, when I was 15.”

    You grieved for him as he told you his story.

    How he had to raise himself.

    Just like you did.

    “I’m sorry,” you’d replied gently. Softly. Knowing how it felt to have no one support you. No one to help you.

    Knowing how it felt to be alone.

    You understood.

    You did, you did, you did.

    Yoongi just stared at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. And you’d wondered if any of the water on his face was salty as he breathed out a quiet and heartbreaking, “Thank you.”  

    It made you question how many kind words he’d heard since his family passed.

    And also incredibly pissed off at the people in your town for how they’d treated him.

    How you’d…treated him.

    A silent promise was made then and there. Never having felt more embarrassed and furious with yourself than in that moment. You’d learned your lesson, and hoped that offering up your own piece of vulnerability might help him feel not so alone.

    Though you watched the rain turn the pond into a canvas of vibration as you did. Words dragged from the deepest parts of your soul, burning the back of your throat as they left.

    “My dad hasn’t been sober a day since my mom died. His eyes are turning yellow,” you said, hugging yourself to stop shaking, convinced yourself it was because of the cold.

    Even though it was August.

    “He doesn’t recognize me most of the time.”

    You closed your eyes, a familiar tang washing over your tongue as you licked the water dripping from your lips.     He gave no response, but an arm found its way over your shoulders and squeezed.

    He understood.

It’s the beginning of September. The air’s started to nip at your cheeks, and the ground crunches a little more everyday with all of the leaves falling underfoot.

The tips of the willows leaves have begun to turn the colour of the morning sun, and by the time mid October rolls around, it’ll look like golden hour every hour of the day.

Yoongi finally tells you about the job he has at a mechanic's in the next town over. He explains how they don’t pay him nearly what they should, but he doesn’t complain because every cent brings him closer to leaving.

Just him and his bike.

You turn sheepish.

“Can I tell you something?”

He sits closer after all this time, more comfortable around one another. Still not enough to touch, not crossing that invisible boundary line, but enough that you don’t have to turn your head much anymore to see his eyes.

Brown and endless.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take a deep breath.

“I kind of always dreamed of taking your bike to get away from here and never come back.” He gives you a look and you shrug. “Seemed the easiest route to take.”

A smile that starts as a smirk turns into a healthy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You demand. He has to calm himself down a bit before answering.

“You just uhm…don’t seem the criminal type to me, Cattails.”

There’s a flutter of something in your chest at the stupid nickname. For the drawing you did the day you met.

He continues, unaware of the goings on inside you. “Stealing? You? Nah. Not a chance.”

You open your mouth in mock outrage, scrunching your brow and bringing a hand to your chest.

“I’ll have you know I’d make an excellent criminal,” you lie to his face. He knows it too. 

But giving in, you detail the plan you’d always kept in your head for emergencies, heat slowly rising in your cheeks with every word.

“I’d take the key from you when you weren’t looking, duplicate it at the hardware store, and slip it back into your pocket before you ever noticed it was gone. Then go to your place in the middle of the night and be halfway across the country before morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he says with a raised brow you don’t trust.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a little too much faux confidence.

“And where do I keep my key, Y/N? Hmm?”

“Your jacket pocket,” you’d deduced long ago.

“Mmm,” he tsks with a shake of his head. “Nope.”

Oh. Well then it must be,

“Your pants pocket?”  

“Nuh uh, try again.”

Damnit!

You’d never thought much about it. How many places can someone keep a key on them without a bag and it not be in their pockets?

“Ummm, in your wallet?” Far-fetched but worth a shot.

“Ooo,” he blows through pursed lips before smirking at you again, but this one was different. It caused something very deep inside of you to turn to lava. “Good guess, but also no.”

Closing his book and setting it down, Yoongi straightens and reaches inside the collar of his shirt, retrieving a necklace you didn’t know he wore.

It’s small, the key, and almost silver. The colouring is tarnished from years of use, with worn teeth and some lettering at its base.

He holds it against a palm to show you.

“Why there?” You ask, wondering if there’s a reason aside from convenience.

With a sad tug of his lips, he answers. “Bike was my dads. I like to keep him close.”

A tender smile meets your own plush as you stare at the little key, appreciating it more after learning the importance it has to him.

And Yoongi watches you, viewing his ticket to freedom with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen, full of that same compassion and understanding you’ve always given him.

An understanding he didn’t think he’d ever see again from this place.

One he doesn’t know if he deserves.

Before you can respond, he’s taking the chain off and sliding it over your head, hand lingering for a second longer than necessary at your nape.

“Yoongi,” you hesitate.

It’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud.

You like the way it feels on your tongue. Warm, sweet. Like honey.

What you don’t know is he loves the way it sounds coming from you.

You falter. “W-what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“But it’s your key! Don’t you need it?”

“Nah, got a spare in the storage compartment of the bike,” he says, gesturing to the one you now hold in your palms. “This way you won’t have to go through the hassle of stealing it.”

“But I—”

“Keep it,” he cuts you off. “In case you need it more than I do.”

It never leaves your neck.

“You want me to what?” You ask as you walk towards the forest edge, Yoongi trailing on your left.

“Take her out for a spin. See if you even can. You’re the one who has all these grand plans but doesn’t even know how to turn it on,” he explains, referring to his motorcycle.

“Those were just daydreamed plans! I never thought I’d actually use them! What if I crash?”

He was kidding right? He must be.

For all the time you two have spent together, you’ve never spoken or been around one another in public. An unspoken agreement.

What happens under the willow tree, stays under the willow tree.

So to be out in the open? On his bike? You don’t know if you can. Or if you should.

But then you remember a promise you made not long ago.

“You won’t crash,” he says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“How do you know? Like you said, I don’t even know how to turn it on,” you hmph.

“Because I’ll be there.”

And maybe it’s the tone of voice he uses, or the fact that you trust him, you find yourself saying,

“Okay, fine.”

Minutes later you’re swinging a leg over the bike, and sinking on to the surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Where do I put the key?” You ask, taking it from your neck and handing it over.

Yoongi puts it in the side of the motorcycle, somewhere close to your knee.

“Here,” he shows as he turns it to the ‘ON’ position.

“Oh.”

What a weird place for an ignition. 

“Mhm,” he acknowledges, then points. “Put your hand on the brake, it’s the part that sticks out on the right hand side. Hold it firmly against the handlebar. Don’t roll the handle bar itself back though, okay? That’s the throttle.”

Doing what he says, you hold the brake tight against the handle bar, murmuring an ‘okay’ under your breath.

“Now hit that button there on the right to let the fuel pump start up,” referring to the button beside the brake near your thumb. You do so.

He checks a little gauge on the side near the ignition. Seemingly pleased, he continues. “And now hit the button on the left to start it.”

Following his words once again, the engine roars to life the second the button is pressed, purring powerfully.

You feel exhilarated and a little terrified. But he’s here. You know you’re safe.

Voice a little louder to combat the noise from the motor, he says, “Okay, now on the left handle bar, grab the clutch. I’ll show you how to move into first gear, and look at me,” your eyes meet his, “do not let go of the clutch.”

You nod, but for extra precaution, he clamps his hand over the one you have holding it. You watch as he bends to put your left foot on a pedal and presses it down till you hear a pop, pushing up the kickstand when he rises.

The bike is heavy, now that you’re the only thing keeping it up right, you can feel its weight. And you understand why they’re designed to be able to have your feet on the ground even when sitting. You’d probably fall over otherwise.

“If you’re uncomfortable you let me know, yeah? And if you get scared just do what you’re doing now with this hand,” he squeezes for emphasis, “it’ll take all the power away from the engine and you’ll just coast until you stop, okay?”

“Okay!” You say, more excited by the minute. Your toes and fingertips are starting to tingle.

“I‘m gonna let go and you’re going to very, very slowly let up on the clutch—not all the way. Just enough that you move at about a pedal bike's pace. Let me jog down the road about 50 feet or so, and then you meet me there. Hold tight to the clutch again when you’re about 20 feet from me and I’ll catch you. Sound good?”

Nodding one more time in confirmation, nerves crawl all over your skin. You can’t describe the new feeling fully, but the closest you can find to it is probably the beginnings of an adrenaline rush.

You watch as Yoongi jogs down the road, throws his hands up over his head, and gives you two big thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly release some pressure off the clutch and begin to move forwards. You know your feet are supposed to go on the metal foot rests below you, but you're so focused on not falling or crashing that you just stick them out so they don’t touch the ground.

Halting your left hands release at the speed he said to, you cruise along, wind picking up with your increased pace.

Holy shit!

You’re riding a motorcycle! 

You never thought you could, it was just a dream for so long. Something you kept in the back of your mind just for fun, but now you’re actually doing it! Your driving down the road on an actual real life motorcycle!? All by yourself!?

Turns out all you needed was a little encouragement and someone you trust to spot you.

Aiming for Yoongi, you clamp down on the clutch once again, cutting power to the engine. You drift right into his awaiting hands braced for the impact, and he slides a little on the gravel road before getting you to a full stop.

He presses one of the buttons you did earlier and the bike shuts down, allowing you to jump off.

You’re positively giddy.

“Oh my god did you see me?! I just did that! I just drove a motorcycle! Can you believe it?! I can’t believe I just did that!” You don’t even register what you're saying, too full of excitement to care.

Yoongi can’t contain his grin as he gets the bike standing on its own. Your joy is too infectious not to take part in, and he walks over for a high five to celebrate. 

But to his surprise, you bypass his hand completely and embrace him, throwing your arms around his neck.

It takes only a second before he’s enveloping you with his own, not letting the chance to hold you go by.

“Thank you!” You say, before letting go, not even realising what you did. You’re too busy catching your breath from all the rambling and jumping around, still filled with the remnants of your elation.  

Meanwhile, Yoongi can’t get the feeling of your body against him out of his head. How soft you were. How warm. The way you smelled like a mixture of your natural scent and outside.

And he’s asking, “You wanna to go for a ride?” before he can tell himself not too.

The question makes you pause. Was he serious? Because you can’t think of anything you want more.

Staring at him, your answer is far too gentle for someone who was just screeching with joy. 

“Really?”

He nods, still untrusting of his mouth, confirming with a ‘mhm.’

You don’t hesitate. You want to feel like that again.  

Not a minute later he’s giving you the helmet and securing it tightly. He also makes you wear his leather jacket to protect your torso, leaving him in just an oversized black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans.

Swinging a leg over, he pats the seat behind him.

And you’re glad to have the helmet on because without it he would most definitely see your inability to meet his eye. You can barely focus on anything aside from the sight in front of you and being wrapped in the scent of him. But then he gives a tattooed hand to help you hop on, and says,

“You have to put your arms around me and hold on. Otherwise you might fly off the back when we accelerate,” holding his hands behind him to guide yours. 

What? You didn’t think this far. He—you have t—Ummm, well... 

“Okay,” you answer, voice small, letting your hands be guided. 

Despite the loss of his jacket, he’s still deliciously warm, and the heat in your cheeks increases tenfold with your hands now splayed over his abdomen. 

Lightly defined muscles meet your fingertips through the thin material of his shirt and you do your best to memorize them as he turns on the bike and pulls away from the curb.

He starts slower than normal to make sure you’re alright, but when you give him the thumbs up, he speeds up to just over the limit and you hold tight.

You’ve never felt so free, loving the rush of wind that flows over your body from going so fast. It’s pushing a welcomed cold through the fabric of your clothes as your body temperature has only increased since getting on.

You could go anywhere, do anything. Nothing and nobody could stop you.

You want that. You want it so bad. And he gave you the key to be able to. 

Literally.

But now when you think about leaving, you think about leaving with him. Yoongi driving and you sitting right here on the back, nothing but each other, the road, and hope for the future.

Growing confident enough to release your grasp after a few minutes, you raise your hands in the air, and let the wind catch your fingertips.  A whoop of joy leaves you at this newfound feeling he’s given you. 

Then another, and another, before returning them to their place around him.

Yoongi can’t help but smile the biggest he has in years when hearing your squeals of glee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he feels it too.

Yoongi doesn’t come to the willow for almost a week.

He’s never done that since he started coming. Not once.

And you’re worried.

Where is he? Is he okay? You have no idea.

It’s not like you can go looking for him.

And you two aren’t anything anyway, so you shouldn’t even be this worried in the first place. If he’s safe, or in the bottom of a ditch somewhere.

But you can’t help it.

Just like you can’t help the feelings that have blossomed for him over the months. The feelings you didn’t want to admit to yourself for fear of him not returning them.

Yet there they were, and there isn’t anything you can do about them now.

They make you wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

Six days.

It takes him six days to return. Stomping in, and visibly pissed off.

“What’s wrong?” You ask once he’s close enough to hear.

“I’m leaving,” he says flatly, uncaring. Like you asked him what colour the sky was.  

And your stupid, silly little unrequited heart shatters.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. Taking off. Getting out of here. I can’t do it anymore.”

Piece by piece it falls from your chest and into the depths of your stomach.

“B-but why? What happened?”

“I got fired.”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, fired. I tried all week to fix this one stupid mistake I made,” he explains, smoothing over his creased brow with two fingers. “But it cost more to fix than to keep me around, so they fired me. I don’t have the amount of cash I planned for, but I have enough to make it work. And I can pick up odd jobs on the road if I need to.” He nears, extending a tattooed hand. “I just came to get my key and say goodbye.”

Your hand reaches for it, clutching it tightly. You don’t want to give it back.

Who the hell is this? Because you barely recognize him. It certainly isn’t the Yoongi you’ve come to know.

The wonderfully kind, classics reading, dream-sharing, motorcycle instructing, freedom key giving man.

The one who told you about his grandmother, and his parents. Who read you stories while you drew and ate meals together. Who taught you how to ride his motorcycle.

The Yoongi you fell for.

Your Yoongi.

The person currently standing in front of you isn’t him at all.

He’s the hard, cold exterior, crafted over years of verbal and societal abuse. The one everyone avoids at all costs when walking through town. The person he had to become in order to survive.

You don’t know this person.

And you hate it.

You hate it so much it decides to exit your body in the form of tears. Ones of sadness, frustration, and heartbreak.

He’s—he’s leaving. 

Actually leaving.

This place, it’s people.

You...

The few remaining pieces of your heart plunge to the floor, crumbling to dust as they hit. Nothing but a hollow, empty cavern remaining where it once sat.

“But I–you…,” the lump in your throat only getting bigger when you try to speak. You face away from him.

Don’t let him see you cry.

He’s clearly never felt anything close to what you do for him, so suck it up. Reign it in. You do it everyday. So why can’t you do it now?

You don’t get to feel this way!

Shove it back down, get it down!. Crush it all until it’s nothing.

Make it go away. Far, far away. 

Yoongi’s face is falling while you’re taking deep breaths to calm down.

In all of his rage and despair at his terrible week, he’s forgotten who he was speaking to.

His kind hearted, music-sharing, been through hell and back, kickass girl. The one he can call his only true friend.

He’s such an asshole. He hadn’t seen you for almost a week, which killed him in of itself. And then the second he does, all he‘s able to do is spew the frustration and misery he’s been feeling the entire time you were apart.

Nah, he’s worse than an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

But he freezes at the sound of a small, wet inhale.

You’re crying.

He made you cry.

And a regret bigger than the ocean drowns him.

“Hey, wait, please,” he says, rushing over, but you hold out a hand to stop him. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He reaches for you again, and again you stop him. You can’t let him comfort you.

Not when he doesn’t realise he’s become the only person in this whole godforsaken, judgemental hellhole of a neighbourhood wasteland you have.

Your grandparents are dead, along with your mum. Your dad’s an abusive drunk, too far gone to remember he has a daughter. You don’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins to rely on, nor do you have any real friends.

You have no one, aside from Yoongi.

And now you won’t even have him.

So you can’t let him comfort you. Can’t let him see you break.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

Because you don’t know if you’ll be able to put yourself back together without him if you do.

But a quiet, “Y/N, please,” imbued with pain you haven’t heard since a rainy August night leaves his lips. A last ditch effort to get you to look at him, to let him help. 

And it breaks you completely, bursting into a million tiny pieces to match your heart on the floor.

An unrestrained sob falls from your mouth, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Yours go to his neck as he drags you onto his lap, gripping tight. 

He holds you through every whimper and hiccup and stuttered inhale and shudder. Through every muttered ‘please don’t go’ and ‘please don’t leave me,’ that escapes, stroking a hand along the back of your head and down your spine, soothing.

He whispers, “it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay,” on repeat with the motion. Over and over and over until only occasional sniffles and deep breaths remain.

You hug him tighter as you start to shiver, the warmth created from your breakdown beginning to wear off. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to slide off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders. An instant cocoon of warm and comfort.

When his hands find their place back around your waist, he dares to speak.

“I got you.”

“I know.” And you do. Your voice is a little wobbly, as you’re unmoving from the embrace, but you most definitely do. 

This is your Yoongi. The one you’ve come to know. To trust. 

Of course he’s got you. 

You use one of your long sleeves to dry your eyes and under your nose. With the nearing autumn weather, you’ve returned to occasionally wearing them.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into his neck after a long beat of silence.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, Cattails?”

The return of your nickname has a grin threatening to emerge.

“For freaking out. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I sprung that on you in such a shit way because I was in an even shittier mood. And you clearly weren’t prepared to hear it. I should’ve known better, so don’t you dare be sorry about anything,” he loosens his hold to pull back and look at you. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

You look down, hiding, not wanting him to see you like this.  

“None of that,” he whispers, and brings a finger to your chin, tilting up.

It doesn’t meet much resistance.

Your eyes are still a bit swollen and patchy, but it’s the concern in his that makes you crack the smallest of smiles, if only to see his worry erased.

He already has enough on his plate. No need to add to it.

Not able to offer much more than a quirk of the lip, you’re relieved that it’s enough when he starts to wear one of his own.

It’s then you realise your position. Like the sight of it cleared your brain fog.         

You’re kneeling over his lap, sitting on his thighs, face inches from his. One of his hands is holding your chin up while the other rests low on your waist, your own still loose around him.

So close, yet so far away.

Because he’s leaving.

And that thought alone allows you to throw caution to the goddamn window. It’s not going to matter once he’s gone, and you’ve wanted it to be with someone special.

He’s as special as they come.

Leaning forward, you close your eyes and the gap between the two of you.  

Eyelids fluttering as your lips brush his. Soft, and gentle.

Like him.

You hold only long enough to make sure it counts before pulling back.

It’s funny, really.

It was just a few seconds, but you already find yourself wanting so much more with him. An unfamiliar but welcomed electric pulse finds itself running through your blood at the thought, and it makes you want his lips everywhere. 

Your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

Anywhere he can reach.  

Sparks pool inside you. Sparks and butterflies and fast flowing lava.

You let yourself relish in the glorious feeling for a single moment, before the reality of what you just did sinks in.

And then you’re scared.

Terrified, actually.

To open your eyes, see his face. His reaction.

What if he hated it? What if he’s never felt anything but platonic affection towards you and now you’ve gone and done this?

Sure, he’s leaving. But now that you think about it, does him leaving mean you’ll never see him again?

What if you just ruined everything?

Teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip, you take a peek.

For the second time today you feel your heart breaking, this time at the look on his face.

Is it shock? Or worse.  

Disgust?

Doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. Not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trying to get out of his hold, but he keeps you there. Unyielding. And you start rambling. “I shouldn’t have done that. You clearly don’t—It’s just that you’re leaving and I—“

Lips on yours shut you up.

It’s fervent and needy and passionate as he pulls you closer by the hips, desperately trying to get you as close to him as physically possible. Your nails drag over his scalp as your fingers snake through his blond locks. They elicit a delicious groan from his mouth that you consume with your own.

It’s the most intoxicating sound you’ve ever heard, and you want more of it. So you do it again, and again, and again.

He moves down your jaw and neck, sucking at the tender flesh near your pulse point, and your mouth drops open at the feeling.

You’ve always wondered, but…you didn’t know it could feel like this.

Every touch, every whisper, every press of his lips to yours feels amazing. He’s pulling pleasure out of places you wouldn’t have thought possible before him. And you never want to go back to not knowing.

The sweetest of whimpers leaves your mouth as he gently bites a soft spot, then soothing the glorious pain he created with the kindness of his tongue.  

Yoongi swears to any god who will listen that he’ll do whatever they want so long as he gets to hear that sound repeatedly and for the rest of his life.

He returns to your lips and says, “come with me.”

You’re so focused on feeling that it takes a moment for his words to land. “What?”

“Leave with me. Let’s get the fuck outta here, and never look back, the both of us. Together.”

Yoongi looks so serious but..

He—he can’t be serious can he? 15 minutes ago he was going on and on about leaving and needing his key back and saying goodbye.

And now?

Sensing your hesitance, he punctuates each of the next three words with a kiss. 

“Come. With. Me.”

It makes your answer arrive without really thinking. You don’t need to think. Not when you know deep in your newly reconstructed heart that it’ll always be the same whether you think about it or not.

So long as you’re with him, you know you’ll be,

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He questions like he can’t believe it. Can’t believe you'd agree.

You make sure there isn’t a single doubt in his head as you look him dead in the eyes and confirm.

“Yes, Yoongi,” another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

He pulls you into him for what feels like a million more under your shared willow tree.

Your salvation.

And you know they’re going to be the firsts of many, many more to come.  

Three days later, and two bags packed full of all your earthly possessions, you’re on the back of Yoongi’s motorcycle.

In those three days he’s prepared everything else you’ll need. He’s gotten a cute leather jacket and helmet for you, some reading materials for the road, snacks, drinks. A place by his side for the foreseeable future.

In the same span of time, you’ve given him a home in your heart, someone he can rely on other than himself. Talk to, trust, experience life with.

Something he hasn’t had in nearly ten years. 

Something he never wants to lose again.

He swings a leg over and you unclip the chain from your neck, handing him the key to the bike, to your now shared future.

Driving out of town—straight down Main Street—you watch as all the people you grew up with, who you almost destroyed yourself to fit in with, gawk.

Watch as they judge you for being with him, your best friend. For leaving, and not doing what they all expected of you.

For not being like one of them.

Because you’re not one of them. 

You never have been.

And just like the dust that flies behind the wheels, you feel weightless, not giving a single fuck what they think for the first time in your life.

You don’t have to anymore.

You’re free.

A/N 3: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

[yorshie]

Twitterpaited

Hey, These are my Springtime Headcanons!

That's right, we all know that I'm talking about mating season. I tried to not go explicit with these but by the vey nature of these headcanons they are adults doing adult things, so read at your own discretion. There’s cussing and mentions/alludes to adult activities. Set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25

Spring starts slow, creeping up like an itch on their carapace and a skin sensitivity. It hits them all in slightly different degrees of uncomfortableness, but by the end of the roughly two weeks they’re all done with each other and their own instincts. Splinter caught on to the signs of encroaching puberty in their early teenage years. When they were younger, all it amounted to was shedding shells and outbursts of manic emotion and moodiness, but by the time the the turtles are in their twenties it’s a full hormonal raging see-saw. He nopes out to Casey’s and April’s apartment every year by then. They make up the guest room for him and he turns off his phone for the duration. His sons are adults, they can figure out their own shit, and in his older age he values his peace and quiet. And the Lair in springtime is anything but that.

Everything comes out of left field and sucker punches the turtles every year. The human friends of the bale might have picked up on cues to determine when the craziness is gonna start, but to the turtles it feels like nothing is amiss until they’re in the thick of it nine miles behind enemy lines, ass deep in cleaning supplies, snack food, and suddenly unable to stand the sight or smell of each other.

Territorial out the wazoo, and that’s an understatement. They’ll get pissy over someone wiping their feet on the wrong shower rug. Everything in their space must be clean, must be straight, orderly and neat. For Leo this is no problem, but Raphael and Mikey spend a good day or two cleaning out their rooms because their turtle brains can stand the ‘pigsty’ all of a sudden and they can’t find the one object they need that they haven’t thought about all year. One year for Raph it was a particular pair of boxing gloves and he didn’t sleep for three days straight trying to find them. The compulsion to have a clean space drives Donnie up the wall the most, because the poor turtle will never have a clean Lab, no matter how hard he tries. The good side of that is, no one runs into hormonal Donnie as long as they stay away from the Lab- which is a good thing since he discovered years ago caffeine makes everything worse. Just imagine, hormonal Donnie with no caffeine. shudder.

One time Casey nipped down to grab something Splinter forgot, and when he came back home April Frebreeze-ed him outside the apartment before he was allowed to enter. The turtles stink during their springtime, especially with only rival males around to interact with. It’s like they’re each putting out ‘fuck you and fuck off’ stench and it permeates the air. Casey said it smells like a musky skunk, and April swears it smells like a boy’s locker room when she got a whiff of it second handed off Casey. Splinter shocked them both by mumbling into his tea “It smells like they’re horny and pissy.” Raph is the worst at this, but Leo is a close second. Every time poor Mikey sticks his nose outside his bedroom all he can smell is ‘fuck you and the horse you rode in on’ from his elder two brothers and being the smallest and youngest, his turtle senses equate it to ‘I’m gonna get my ass kicked if I leave this room’. 

Despite everyone being frustrated and pissy about it, there’s not a lot of fist fights going on. It’s more subtle postering than anything overt, and it’s mostly between Leo and Raph. Whenever they clock the other in their peripheral, they start up a warning rumble that, in Raph’s case, will shake the furniture in the room if he puts effort into it. At most it’ll escalate into huffing and flexing their arms and chests, but it’s likely to scare the shit out of anyone watching. Every once in a while Mikey will be feeling his oats and will rumble back, and it’s usually enough to shock the shit out of his bigger brothers and they’ll stop for a bit. Leo absolutely hates it. He’s the leader, but come Springtime everyone seems to forget that, and for him it feels like every time he sees Raphael he’s in a power struggle for the mantle. Raph is just pissed he has to see Leo's ugly mug and judgmental eye rolls when he’d rather just get his food and get the fuck back to watching tv in his room with his door locked. 

The one thing that will cause them to stop in their tracks, however, is the discovery of anything smol.  Raph turns on his tv and sees baby animals by accident? Bawls for hours. Families or small children running around exploring on Mikey’s instagram reel feed? Turtle is hit in the chest with the thought that he will likely never be a father. Leo finds old photos of when they were toddlers while cleaning his room?He’ll avoid everyone for the rest of the day, chest tight at the thought of little faces that resemble his own. Donnie finds all the parenting books he downloaded over the hope of ‘what if’? He’ll throw them in the trash and then dig them out hours later in a silent apology to whatever kernel of hope he has.

Now as the turtles get older, there’s always the chance they have an s/o during their Springtime. They learned the hard way that things can get really weird, really quickly, when one year April hugged Raph goodbye after a game night in March and she said “wow you smell really good for some reason”- cue the turtles locking eyes in dawning horror and scuttling out of the room like their pants are literally on fire, and April disgustedly cussing Raph out over the phone once she figured out what exactly was happening. So, needless to say, if the turtles do have an s/o during these two weeks, there is a strict order to stay away from the Lair. If the relationship is far along enough, the turtle could join their s/o at their place, provided they can take the whole two weeks and then some off work, because there is no way any of the turtles could chill enough to let their s/o leave the safety of the nest until turtle.exe stops hogging the brain console and logic comes back online. Even if their s/o leaves just to run errands, they’ll likely come home to find a stressed turtle panic cleaning and vibrating off the walls, rumbling every time they hear footsteps outside in the hall… Maybe it’s better just to leave him in the Lair to preserve his poor blood pressure.

Courtship behavior, however, comes out as well in the Springtime, and it’s something to contend with if either the warning isn’t heeded or the turtle heads aboveground. During the other months of the year, the turtles are more into romancing their s/o’s in a more ‘normal’ manner, but during those two weeks the little voice that warns them humans won’t really ‘get’ all the turtle-y interactions goes suspiciously quiet. Actions such as kissing, hand holding, and personal bubble space go right out the proverbial window, and in their place pop up some more hindbrain postering that, well to be honest, can be downright confusing

One of the most obvious courtships traits is dogging their s/o’s footsteps. It’s a shadowing instinct, made ten times worse by their ninja training and their ability to move silently, and nine times out of ten they don’t even realize they’re doing it until their s/o turns and runs into them. They’re always in the way, always underfoot, and if they can’t physically follow they’ll track with their gaze. It gets worse if the other turtles are around, to the point where their s/o might feel like they’re being stalked by a particularly rumbly bodyguard that covers their back at all times. Surprisingly (sarcasm), Mikey is the worst offender. Leo is the best at keeping himself to only following with his eyes, but eventually they’ll all break and find themselves one step from being up against their chosen partner.

Another turtle-y interaction that grips them hard is the need to provide. He notices his s/o hasn’t eaten in a few hours? He’ll make a point to get them to eat or to bring them snacks. The room’s too cold or there’s too few blankets to cuddle up in? He’ll bring the covers from the bed if he can’t get away with just relocating to the  bedroom, but no matter what he’s getting some article of his ill-fitting clothing on his s/o. It’s a ‘kill two birds with one stone’ technique that soothes the itch in his snout that absolutely freaks him out when he realizes his s/o doesn’t smell like him.

The turtles also turn handsy overnight. Their s/o better be prepared for casual touch at any open opportunity, because the turtles will not waste it. Everything from a hand on the small of their s/o’s back, to touching any bare skin, to fluttering their fingers against their s/o’s face. The latter happens the least, and only when no one else is around to witness it. If their s/o ever tries to turn the tables and return the favor around others, it quickly becomes apparent by the sputtering and coughing from the other brothers that they might not understand all the connotations associated with the action. Cue their turtle getting flustered and all but ducking their head into their shell in embarrassment over being propositioned in front of his family.

Cuddle time dissolves into massages as an excuse to rub up against their s/o, to the point that the s/o might have to point out that massages are usually done with hands and not by just bumping and rubbing a turtle snout over any body part they can reach, which will only be answered with annoyed grumbling and insistence that they ‘aren’t’ doing that… while not stopping doing exactly that. There is also no such thing as personal space while cuddling- if their s/o doesn’t want a heavy ass turtle in their lap, they better nab that spot first or risk being squashed.

Speaking of turtle rumbles, those aren’t the only sounds that come out with a vengeance during springtime. The turtles all churr more readily, chirp and click to get each others and their s/o’s attention, but when they’re alone with their s/o it ramps up, to the point where they’ll forgo words all together. Donnie is the worst offender as he’s battling not only hormones but also caffeine withdrawals, and as such he tends to only hiss at his brothers when they stick their heads into his lab to make sure he’s still alive. With their s/o's however, it's all rumbles deep in their chest and churrs that are likely to rattle the breath in their chests. Raph has the lowest auditory range with his rumbles while Mikey sounds the sweetest.

[devilmen-collector]

Time Periods of the Story Events

In this post, I'll be dividing story events into time periods, and give you guys a sense of the timeline of these events chronologically.

I'll be updating this post every time I have read an event.

Also, for now, I'll divide the timeline into three periods, ancient times/long before MC came to Hell, shortly before MC came to Hell, and after MC came to Hell. There will be a fourth category of unknown because I can find no time indicator of the event.

Note: shortly before MC came to Hell has relative meaning. It is the time period much later than ancient times and not necessarily means literally shortly before MC arrives in Hell.

Ancient Times/Long Before MC Came to Hell

The Two Stars that Fell from the Sky

Main characters: Lucifer, Gamigin

Original run: March 20 - April 3, 2024

Reason: I think this is obvious, this event's main setting takes place from the period of Lucifer falling to his two years living with Gamigin as a fallen angel to him being recognized as king and the foundation of Paradise Lost. The time is shortly after the war began and many centuries before MC came to Hell.

Shortly Before MC Came to Hell

Where is Beelzebub?

Main characters: Beelzebub, Andrealphus, the trio Naberius-Amon-Stolas

Original run: December 11-25, 2023

Reason:

In the last part of the story, Beelzebub says that there are things that are going to happen soon but he can't tell them yet. I think what Beelzebub is talking about is MC and other things that will come with their arrival. There are many implied details that Beelzebub knows that the descendant of Solomon will be his destined lover and he has been waiting for them for very long, like that moment in the comic of Beelzebub Attacker

A Life of Investigating Leraye

Main character: Leraye

Original run: April 24 - May 8, 2024

Reason:

The story alternates between the moment in present time and the memories about Leraye. But since it has been made clear from the start that the characters are talking about their memories of Leraye, I'll choose shortly before MC arrives as the standpoint period.

In one scene, Paimon tells Naberius and Stolas he's single, which means he isn't seeing anyone or having feeling for anyone at that moment (which actually makes Naberius irritated because he was actually asking if Paimon was alone in coming to meet them lol). Given the fact that Gehenna devils are romantic, and Paimon has feeling for MC after they arrived in Hell, it must mean that MC hasn't arrived in Hell at the time of the event.

After MC Arrived in Hell

The Guest of the Halloween Eve

Main character: Minhyeok

Original run: October 25 - November 8, 2023

Reason: Another obvious one because MC literally appears in this event.

Requiem of the Survivors

Main characters: Leviathan, Orias

Original run: February 21 - March 7, 2024

Reason:

Well the time indicator of this event is a single sentence that Orias says.

If you have read the Prologue of the Portal Coin Dungeon (where you farm coins that have cat-shape and it's only open during the period of a pass), you will see that MC did appear in that prologue talking with Selaphiel, while the four kings were beside them. (Sadly this prologue can only be read once and I have no screenshot). The fact that Orias mentions the event of that prologue means that the story of this event happens after MC came to Hell, it's just that MC isn't in Hades at the time of the story event.

Unknown Period

Bimet's Rage

Main character: Bimet

Original run: November 17 - December 1, 2023

Reason: there's no time indicator I can find in the event story, it could happen either before or after MC came to Hell.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: Year Five Masterpost

WHAT A SPECIAL WEEK, Y'ALL! This week marks the end of the FIFTH FULL YEAR I've done UNINTERRUPTED FIC RECS every SINGLE FRIDAY! This is quite the achievement, I think. I genuinely didn't think I would make it this long being a reliable source for guaranteed recs every Friday 💜 It's something I'm super proud of and something I really genuinely hope that you guys love as much as I love posting them. I SERIOUSLY couldn't do it without you guys, since I literally get these weekly suggestions primarily from y'all!

For anyone who is new to my blog, every SINGLE Friday I post up 5 fics recently added to either my Marked for Later list or my Bookmarks, or as a way to promote new fics suggested to me by authors as a Signal Boosted fic! I haven't missed a single Friday since its inception in 2019, and it's still going strong!! It's the ONLY guaranteed weekly list on this blog, since YOU GUYS provide me the content!! :D I love doing it, and it makes authors feel loved :)

Next Friday, September 27, 2024 starts year six, so until there, here's your opportunity to check out any lists you may have missed this past year!

There are over 1,300 fics on the lists below, and that DOESN'T count the bonus extended lists I do once in awhile!!!

Again, hope you enjoy and I hope you guys continue to support my fic rec lists. For anyone curious, these are the best lists to get fresh new fics, as often these lists feature fics that authors have posted recently! Enjoy!

PREVIOUS YEARS (2019 to 2023):

YEAR ONE MASTERPOST (Sept 29/19 to Sept 25/20)

YEAR TWO MASTERPOST (Sept 25/20 to Sept 24/21)

YEAR THREE MASTERPOST (Oct 1/21 to Sept 23/22)

YEAR FOUR MASTERPOST (Sept 30/22 to Sept 22/23)

YEAR 5 OF FIVE FICS FRIDAY:

September 29/23

October 6/23

October 13/23

October 20/23

October 27/23

November 3/23

November 10/23

November 17/23

5FF “LOKI” Bonus: November 17/23

November 24/23

December 1/23

December 8/23

December 15/23

December 22/23

December 29/23

January 5/24

January 12/24

January 19/24

January 26/24

February 2/24

February 9/24

February 16/24

February 23/24

March 1/24

March 8/24

March 15/24

March 22/24

March 29/24

April 5/24

April 12/24

April 19/24

April 26/24

May 3/24

May 10/24

May 17/24

May 24/24

May 31/24

June 7/24

June 14/24

June 21/24

June 28/24

July 5/24

July 12/24

July 19/24

July 26/24

August 2/24

August 9/24

August 16/24

August 23/24

August 30/24

September 6/24

September 13/24

September 20/24

[destielmemenews]

Hello! I don't know who i should connect to about this.

You may be familiar with the general situation of trans and generally queer people in russia. Since the start of war in Ukraine, the law, that was in force for about 10 years and banned "LGBT propaganda" for minors (in fact, it banned any information to teenagers and any materials that are in any way related to queer people and potentially accessible to minors) was changed to a complete ban on “LGBT propaganda”.

In October of this year, russia completely banned documentary and medical transition for transgender people and significantly restricted their other rights. More specifically here: https://www.thepinknews.com/2023/07/25/vladimir-putin-trans-healthcare-ban-russia/ On November 30, the russian Supreme Court classified the “international LGBT movement” as an “extremist organization.” What this means exactly is explained in detail here: https://meduza.io/en/cards/russia-has-banned-the-so-called-international-lgbt-movement

The activist team “Quarteera” has started a petition calling for easier access to refugee status for trans* people from Russia in Germany (e.g. the possibility of applying for refugee status for people already in Germany without having to travel to russia to submit documents).

🟣 The petition can be read and signed here until December 18th: https://epetitionen.bundestag.de/content/petitionen/_2023/_08/_22/Petition_156274.html

Residents of other countries can sign too. I would be very grateful if you would sign the petition and help spread the word.

The petition is in German, but anyone can sign!

According to Wikipedia, the group behind the petition is involved in numerous educational activities and demonstrations that aim to help LGBT+ Russian migrants and their families in Germany.

"Quarteera is a Russian-speaking non-profit volunteer LGBT registered association in Berlin, Germany. The association was officially registered in April 2011 and calls itself the "Russian-speaking group of gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender people and their friends in Germany"."

Quarteera's website (in Russian)

An informational Reddit post about the situation.

The petition

[dreamauri]

┇𝗗𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 - P1 ┇ ─ ୨୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ─ ┇it's time you got back in the battle ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst/fluff )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 2, 445 ) ╰ 🫧  :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

☆★ changed up things a little bit cause i found my muse, took me a while to write this chapter as well. I hope it was worth the wait. I don't plan on rushing this series, but it will be a long one, no more than 15/20 (??) chapters? ps. the translation is not literal, it's context. ty ━━━━

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests )

RACE DAY Sunday April 30 2023 — Baku City Circuit, Azerbaijan

Needles to say, you felt like shit. It wasn't even the fourth race into the season and you had taken a seat that didn't belong to you. And there was nothing you hated more than that.

You watched as people rushed around the garage finalising their tasks. "You okay, kid?" Looking up, you met gazes with your new engineer. "Never been better." You lied, giving him a small smile. "Good to hear." He patted the top of your helmet gently. "I'll be in your ear the whole time, champ." "Thank you, Arcadio." "Call me JJ, kid." You chuckled, nodding. "Thank you, JJ."

"And here we are at the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, ladies and gentlemen! A race filled with anticipation, surprises, and the return of an incredible talent. Keep your eyes on car number 17, the Red Bull driven by the remarkable Seventeen. Her first race since 2016 was it? She is finally on the grid, with a full seat as well."

"That's right, Martin. After a long hiatus, Seventeen is back on the grid, and the excitement is electric. You can hear the fans roaring! You can tell that the people are exited for her to get back on the track, and I can't deny it, I am as well." "Disappointingly enough, she will be starting at the back of the grid for missing qualifying on Friday."

"Charles Leclerc is in pole position, with Max Verstappen alongside him in P2. But don't count out Seventeen just yet. She's eager to prove herself once again today."

Lap 1 :: "The lights are about to go out, and the race is underway! Leclerc gets a clean start, holding onto the lead, while Verstappen is hot on his heels. But Seventeen is on the move, slicing through the pack with remarkable determination."

"Seventeen is showing no signs of rustiness, Martin. Lap after lap, she's gaining positions, overtaking rivals left and right. It's a mesmerising display of skill and determination."

Lap 10 :: "Seventeen pulls off a breath-taking move on Turn 8, overtaking Lando Norris' McLaren with sheer precision. She's making her presence known, and the crowd is thrilled to witness her comeback."

"That is P9, Seventeen. P9." "God blessed me with a functioning radio." You joked, chuckling, pulling a laugh from the Filipino on the pit wall. "Thanks' Jj." You sighed happily catching up to the Mercedes ahead.

Lap 25 :: "Seventeen's drive is filled with passion and resilience, Martin. The years away from the car seem to have only fuelled her determination. And she executes a daring overtake on the outside of Turn 3! leaving Carlos Sainz behind!"

Lap 47 :: "Max, we need you to let Seventeen through, please. She's on pace. Let seventeen through." "An incredible act of teamwork from Red Bull! Verstappen gracefully yields, allowing Seventeen to continue her charge towards the front."

"And now, Seventeen is on a mission. Lap after lap, she closes the gap to the leaders, never faltering in her pursuit of glory."

Final Lap :: "The tension is mounting, Martin. Seventeen is determined to make her mark. She's chasing down Charles Leclerc, putting immense pressure on the leader.

"And there it is! In a sensational move, Seventeen overtook Leclerc on the final corner of the final lap! The crowd erupts in applause as Seventeen crosses the finish line, taking an unbelievable victory in her first race back!"

"What a comeback story!" "Seventeen has made a resounding statement with this incredible victory. A truly unforgettable moment in Formula 1 history."

"Heh." You chuckle to yourself as you park in front of the P1 board. Once you lifted yourself out of the car, standing on the nose, you bent backwards holding onto the halo as you did a handstand. "Eat shit." You whispered, bending both knees and arching your back, posing for the camera.

Once you put your feet back on the asphalt you walked to your team who was quick to pull you in the sea of hugs and praise. "Thank you, guys. I would've never been able to do this without you today." You told them, hugging your new and favourite engineer.

"It's good to have you back." You heard Hamilton greet you, dabbing you up. "Thanks, Lewis." You nodded, flicking up your visor so he could at least see the smile that reached your eyes. "Ya saba3tashar!" [hey seventeen] snapping your head to the source of voice, you're met with the smug smile of a certain eight year old.

"Ya benti howa enti ay 7ega tesarakhiha we khalas?" [My God, are you just going to scream at any chance you get?] Her father who was carrying her on his hip scolded, covering his pulsing ear. "3erefto tigo 3ayni." [So you could make it after all] You moved over to them, sharing a tight hug.

"Tab3an. Mesh hafawet awel seba2 lebatalet El 3alem." [of course, we wouldn't miss the world champions first race] Marawan kissed your cheek patting the side of your helmet. "Mestaniyeenek." [Theyre waiting for you] He gestured to the waiting interviewer. "Mashi mashi." [ok ok]

"Salam!" [take care] The girl waved, making you turn back and blow her a kiss.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Plopping on the P1 chair, you slumped tiredly leaning your head back. The room felt tense. With Max Verstappen in P2 and Killian Kraus in P3 ( two drivers who managed to overtake Leclerc in the last second right after you did ).

"That was a good overtake on lap 5." Kraus pointed out, looking at the screen that showed the highlights. He was trying to break the ice, especially with your teammate looking at you with such a negative expression that could be described as hate or despise, regret, anger. "Which one?" You asked yawning, waving slightly to the camera who was filming the three of yoy.

"Turn seven." "On Gasly?" "Yeah." "Eh, I could've done better." You shrugged, standing up once Jj stopped by in the room. "There's always room to improve." You sighed as he handed you the face mask and your sunglasses. You stood in a corner facing the wall to hide your face as you took off your helmet and balaclava, replacing them with a black mask, the 1st place cap and the sunglasses.

"It's time for the podium guys." "Here we go." You muttered tiredly pulling the second half of your race suit up, putting your hands through the sleeves. "And in first place, racing for the first time in seven years and adding another win to her unending winning streak. Give it up for Seventeen!" You could hear the crowd screaming as you walked out on the stage waving to the masses as you stepped up on your highest pedestal, raising your hands up bowing down.

You took your cap off once the Austrian Anthem started playing, skipping the one which would've been yours. You could hear and see the red bull team below you singing and smiling, which only made you crack a smile. Putting the cap back on your head as you received your trophy, quickly raising it up for your little family to see.

Max received his next with a forced smile and Killian after with pursed lips. Cracking the bottle open, you ran forward to the edge, spraying Your team principal and engineer.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You are on a winning streak are you not?" "I am." You nodded, leaning back in the chair. Press conferences were always so boring. "How long has it been going?" "Oh wow . . . like forever? I don't think I've lost that many karting races. And I've never lost races in F3 and F2—" "You were lapping everyone." "Yes, I was." You nodded chuckling.

"Hopefully, the streak continues throughout the rest of the season. and maybe I can win all the races next year and set another record." You wiggled your eyebrows excitedly. "You guys did go back to school, I like these questions." You giggled making the whole room erupt in laughter minus the Dutch boy sitting by your side.

Once you walked out of the room you were dragged by your performance coach to the Redbull motorhome for an ice bath. "Can I go into the out now." You whined shivering in the inflatable tub, one had out giving pats and belly rubs to the clearly delighted Australian Shepard.

"You're so lucky, protected by that cute fur of yours." You cooed at him scratching under his ear. "Oh, I was starting to think you'd skip." You joked looking at the Dutch driver in swim trunks. Max only pursed his lips shrugging as he slipped in gently beside you.

"Fuck dit is koud." [fuck this is cold] He cursed under his breath, sinking into the water, watching you with the dog. "What's his name?" He asked breaking the silence after a few moments. "Aussie." You replied ruffling the doggo's head. "What? Who names their dog Aussie?" He looked at you confused and you could only blink. "I did." You furrowed your eyebrows. "Oh . . ." He replied quietly, sinking deeper into the tub till the cold water covered his nose.

First time having a conversation with his teammate, his biggest rival, his biggest ally ( and childhood crush ) and he killed it, literally. Stabbed it right in the face.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"She's scary." Lando shivered at the thought of your black helmet overtaking him. A certain group of drivers were clubbing, celebrating the race even though none of them won. And the said winner wasn't attending.

"I understand why some people call her a demon now. All she's missing is a tail and horns. I bet her eyes are red." Pierre grumbled sipping from his glass. "You're all sulking way too much." The unaffected Alex Albon commented. "Us? We're not even her teammates. Look at Max, he's dead." Charles pointed out at the Redbull driver that was practically unconscious from how much he was drinking. "If she really never loses, we're done, mate. Our only option is to wait till she retires."

Although Max was almost black out drunk, he still heard faint chatter from time to time. "only option is to wait till she retires." Max liked you as a driver, not a driver that was taking his wins away from him. 'Maybe we don't have to wait. We can force her to retire.' was the drunk though that passed through his brain. A thought that he should've left behind when he walked out of the club that night.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MEDIA DAY Thursday May 4 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

"Hello, my name is Max Verstappen." "And my name is Seventeen and we are . . . I forgot sorry. Some one was walking by with cotton candy." You chuckled nervously looking back at the camera.

"We're playing 20 questions, with the goal of getting to know each other more. And by the end, the team are going to ask us 5 questions each and we have to know the answers to that." Max explained as you rocked your chair slowly to face him. "Alright. Who goes first?"

You ended up doing rock paper scissors, with Max winning. "Who is your favourite f1 driver?" You grimace thinking. "Umm, uhh. I say this and I don't have to hide my face anymore." You laughed. "I'm going to go with Seb." You nodded.

"Your favourite race circuit?" "I'll have to go with spa. Yours?" "Um, does it have to be a current track? Mine doesn't exist yet." You chuckled laughing. Through the game you found yourself loosening up, fining yourself more comfortable with your teammate. Max wasn't though, putting on a smile and forcing a laugh every once in a while.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

RACE DAY Sunday May 7 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

Lap 48 :: "Now on the soft rubber, we are watching Seventeen gaining with every metre onto her teammate ahead, Max Verstappen, her rival for the championship. She will pull out of the slipstream. Seventeen is on the attack, defence is on for Verstappen. The bulls going wheel to wheel." "Verstappen goes on the outside line but there will be better traction for Seventeen who stands on the throttle. She'll get DRS again and will fight into turn one. Can Verstappen offer a defensive line on the inside?"

"He's got no other choice! The bulls are wheel to wheel! Around the outside, will it be the lead? Its close between the two! The crowds are roaring and Seventeen takes the lead of the Miami grand prix having started fifth on the grid and losing positions down to tenth after the spin out on lap 22. She's passed all of them."

"Thanks, Max." You said through the radio as you felt yourself heave.

Lap 52 :: "Do you think . . . We can put on some music?" You said once you turned on the radio. "Because my ears feel empty and I have a horrible singing voice. I mean, There's no one else for us to overtake, no?" You could hear Jj's laugh over the radio, hearing his smile. "We are 14 seconds ahead of Max. So I guess maybe? Let me look into it."

it only took a few minutes before you were listening to Michael Jackson, singing along. "Cause this is thrillerrr!" You hummed along, your radio popping up on the stadium's speakers. "And that is, Seventeen listening to music, comfortable in P1."

Final Lap :: "Outstanding performance for Seventeen. She comes out of the final corners— And for the first time ever! Seventeen wins the Miami grand prix with a masterclass of performance! From tenth of the grid, to first." "Another one-two for red bull! Fantastic performance!"

"Wahoo!" You cheered pulling the steering wheel out once the car was turned off in front of the P1 board. Getting up on the halo, you celebrate by doing one more handstand, doing a leaning forward front-split this time. Once you got down, you fell into the hugs from your team, happiness clearly written in your eyes. "Thank you guys for all your hard work. Thank you so much!" You hugged and shook hands, sadly being ignored by Jos Verstappen but you didn't care.

Being up on the top of the grid again felt exhilarating and adrenaline fuelling. "I love you all so much." You blew kisses as you retreated to the cool down room. Getting up on the podium again felt euphoric. Raising your trophy for your team to see, you got down on your knees pressing the trophy to your forehead before hugging it tightly.

[alithographica]

Re: Redbubble & Alternatives

Redbubble is doing some nonsense and I've deleted my account. I barely bothered with it anyway, was mostly there for people who've asked for specific images as posters.

Anyway in doing that I sacrificed the $4.35 that was still sitting in my earnings. They only let you cash out at $20, so rather than drum up sales and therefore make Redbubble more money, I'm gonna do what I feel is $4.35 in anti-publicity for them. 🥳

tl;dr there are new fees that hurt artist income at all sales levels. Redbubble is either looking to cut costs and raise profits for funsies, or is in serious financial trouble.

About the new fees:

Redbubble offers their services to artists by allowing artists to control their profit margin above a certain baseline manufacturing fee. This was pretty cool! There's now an additional fee that will be charged starting May 1, 2023. It is not an upfront fee that requires you to pay out of pocket, but it does directly cut your profit margin. How badly? Well...

By Redbubble's own example, if in one month you sell $300 in products that you had set at a 25% margin, you'd previously earn $75. Under the new structure, that earnings level means you pay a $28 fee, so you will now be paid $47. That $28 represents a 37% cut off what you were supposed to earn.

There's a full fee table in that link, but other highlights include a $1 fee if you earned $2 (aka 50%!) and big sellers who'd expect to take home $400 will now receive $320 (an $80 fee, 20%).

It also puts you in a weird spot that earning $1 more in a month may bump you to the next tier, causing you to actually take home less money. Make $1 more, end up losing $11. Make it make sense. 🤨

About the new tiers:

Each shop is evaluated and labeled Standard, Premium, or Pro. Premium and Pro shops are not subject to the new fees, but there's no clarity on how to move from one tier to another. Redbubble says it's under your control but it's clearly not. Many artists are reporting that they have accounts with next to no sales that have been labeled Pro, and accounts with thousands of annual sales that are labeled Standard.

Action items:

Look, I'm not gonna tell other artists that they have to close their shops, or tell buyers not to buy from Redbubble if your favorite artists have chosen to stay. What you do with the above info is up to you.

What I will say is that many artists are leaving because the new pay structure sucks. I encourage people who buy from Redbubble to expand their support to other sites.

Attrition is arguably their goal here—they know people will leave over this, and that'll probably lower their costs and lower competition for the remaining accounts. But goodwill is lost easily and they're playing a dangerous game on betting how many stay vs. leave. I'm out.

Feel free to leave your feedback on Redbubble's feedback form here, but it feels slightly like yelling into the void.

Alternatives:

tbh I don't have a good read on things. If you do know of any recommended (or unrecommended) print-on-demand sites, speak up!

I will say that as of now (April 2023), based on my research:

🟢 INPRNT sounds like a winner if your game is art prints and stickers. Does not have any wearable products like t-shirts.

🟡 Etsy + Printify/Printful might be viable? Etsy always had higher profit margins than POD marketplaces, but it's a bit more work and they also do weird things occasionally. Also has a listing fee so if you're the type to upload a ton of designs, pricey.

🔴 Teepublic is owned by Redbubble. Doesn't have the tier/new fee structure as of now but might be imminent. Have also heard their customer service sucks.

🔴 Society6 is going to charge artists shipping costs, and there's going to be a (mandatory?) subscription service launched in the fall, so that's not a winner anymore either.