#i will word this better when i actually write it out.

[bdbueckers]

ballin' pt.2 | p.b

"i just finished on you, i just did it on you"

paring: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, dom!paige, sex, strap usage, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral (both receiving.. partially), spanking, squirting, gets a little sappy at the end ofc, if i missed anything feel free to lmk!

word count: 2.5k

summary: your girlfriend reminds you just how much she loves you and only you.

author's note: pt.2 is here! i hope it ends up being everything y'all hoped for, if not more. feedback is appreciated as always and feel free to send asks with regards to this fic or maybe even something else you think i could write. alright, enough yapping from me..enjoy! x (once again if you hate it do NAWT fucking tell me)

read the first part here

“we’re not even close to done. strip.” 

she looks up at you, demanding, anticipating. already ridding herself of the rest of her clothes.

reaching behind you undo the knot at the nape of your neck. your dress falls, finally revealing your top half completely. paige leans up to attach her mouth to one of your nipples, always quick to give them her undivided attention. 

“every part of you is so perfect baby, fuck.” she moans, mouth open and her tongue out circling your hardened buds.

your hand holds the back of her head, pushing her farther into your cleavage. your head lulls back, mouth open in a silent moan at the feeling of her hot mouth on your skin and the cool air that follows when she switches from right to left.

paige slides to the edge of the bed, forcing you to stand so the rest of your dress could fall, pooling at your feet. she pulls her head back from your chest and her eyes are met with you fully naked for the first time tonight. 

your heart hammers in your chest as she eyes from head to toe, her bottom lip between her teeth when she catches a glimpse of your folds. placing a hand under her chin you lean down to bring your lips to hers once more. almost as if for good measure, ensuring that this moment was real. when you stand again you already see her reaching towards your bedside table for a certain detachable piece of silicone.

“p, can i help you put it on?” you utter, voice lower than you realized.

with a slight nod she beckons you closer, but not before stopping you a few inches from her with an extended hand on your hip.

“on your knees.” 

not even needing her to finish saying all three words you dropped down, eye to eye with the harness and strap in her hands. grabbing it from her you begin to secure it. stopping when it was on her, you trail languid kisses up and down her upper thighs and hips, hands sliding up her abs and resting just underneath the curve of her tits. 

with a hand on the side of your face she forces you to look up at her.

“i’m getting impatient.”

“oh and you were talking about me earlier?” you asked, leaving another kiss on her lower stomach right above the strap harness.

“how about you put your mouth to work on my shit instead of running it so much, hmm?” paige grabs you by the crown of your head. not even waiting for an answer from you.

wetting your lips you wrap them around the tip, moaning at weight on your tongue. gradually taking more of “her” in your mouth you make the mistake of looking up to gauge any reactions she might be having. she’s already looking back at you.

forcing your head down until your nose meets her stomach and you’re gagging she begins to rut into your mouth a little, relishing in the gurgling noises coming from you.

“fuck, that’s right baby. get it wet.” she hisses, only throwing her head back momentarily before gazing down at you again.

paige and her strap were almost inseparable. any time she got the opportunity to fuck you with it, it became an extension of her. if you hadn’t known any better you’d think that she could actually feel it. that’s just how she was.

“hmm, i think that’s enough?” she questions, a smirk painting her lips. with her hand now on your ponytail she’s tugging you off of her cock. you whine a little as you feel drool slipping past your lips and dripping down your chin slightly.

“if this shit was really mine i’d cum all over your face right now,” paige starts.

she can see how you press your thighs together even tighter, your clit begging for some kind of attention.

“i know you’d look perfect. you’re already sucking me off like your life depends on it, imagine you covered in my cum.” 

“p…baby please” you huff, already wet all over again and ready to be filled to the brim.

“you know i like it when you beg.” she says, roughly bringing you to your feet with that same hand holding onto your hair. as soon as you’re standing you'rer pushed on to the bed again. you don’t even need her to tell you before you’re on your hands and knees with your ass in the air.

you hear her take in a sharp breath before you feel her hand come down on your ass, the now lubricated tip teasingly rubbing up and down your sopping wet cunt. you almost fall right into your stomach at the contact, letting out a mix of a whine and a groan.

she leans down, her chest pressed against your back as she uses her hand to continue dragging the strap through your folds.

“c'mon baby, gotta tell me how bad you want it.” she whispers in your ear.

instinctively pushing back into her you huff a bit, knowing that you needed to say something because she absolutely would drag this out.

“paige, fuck– please i need it, i wanna feel you so bad, i need you inside me now.”

“more.”

oh my god.

“nobody fucks me like you do baby, i’ve been thinking about this all night, please”

“you sound so pretty like this princess.” you can almost hear the grin in her voice.

as your brain registers the praise you feel her roll her hips forward, immediately bottoming out.

your jaw goes slack and you feel like you could scream but the lack of air in your lungs from the sharp breath you’ve just taken in makes it a little hard.

“shit, look at how you’re sucking me in already.” she groans, eyes never leaving your pussy as it swallows her inch by inch.

it doesn’t even take her a few strokes before she has one hand gripping tightly onto your hip and another pressing down on your shoulder blades to keep your back arched. she’s plowing into you at this point.

you can’t control the noises that leave you. from the squelching of your pussy and whatever manages to come out of your mouth it's all extremely lewd, the thought of how loud you’re being never crosses your mind.

“tell me how it feels.” she demands.

you try to speak but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a whine as you face plant into the mattress.

not going for that paige grabs onto your ponytail, yanking you back until your body is pressed against hers. her thrusts don’t still or slow.

“am i fucking you dumb baby? better say something or i’ll stop.” she pants into your ear, tonguing your earlobe.

“mmm– it feels so good p, please don’t stop!” you yelp, as she releases her hold on you pushing you down into the mattress, somehow pumping into you faster.

“i can’t. believe. you. think. i. would. ever. want. to. fuck. somebody. else.” she says, punctuating each word with a thrust into your leaking hole, each stroke surprisingly feeling deeper than the last.

she brings down a hand to your clit, making tight circles upon contact.

“paige!” you gasp, reaching back to attempt to get a hand on her stomach to disrupt her thrusts. she immediately moves it away, smacking her lips together.

“you wanted it, so take it. don’t ever try to push me away.” she mutters, one hand now holding yours behind your back.

your chest is burning from how hard you’re breathing, your throat dry because you can’t keep your mouth closed, drool pooling beneath you on the duvet.

paige uses her free hand to deliver a quick slap to your clit, causing you to produce a moan that’s borderline pornographic. 

she watches you clench around her.

“you liked that?” she lets out almost mocking you.

“yes, oh my god–YES”

your feel her fingers on your clit again and you screw your eyes shut. 

“p, you'resogood–shit please don’t stop, i’m gonna cum!” your words now slurred together.

“i bet you are. c’mon, give it to me.” she moans, getting off on the sight of you like this.

paige doesn’t let up and soon you’re panting ridiculously fast as you feel static from your head to your toes, creaming her strap.

“oh baby, look at you…so messy.” paige groans, slowing her thrusts to get you through your high but never coming to a complete stop. just milking you.

after a few more delicate thrusts paige pulls out of you and watches your hole clench and unclench, muttering a breathy “fuck” from behind you.

she helps you roll onto your side to catch your breath as you collapse. you can’t help but grin to yourself like an idiot. you feel her peppering feather light kisses all over your forehead, cheeks, and down your neck as you relish in the feeling of your orgasm. 

“i do remember you sayin' sumn about how you wanted to fuck me until you pass out...” you hear from the foot of the bed.

lifting your head slightly you see her reaching out to grab your ankles and pull you towards the foot of the bed once more.

“what are you–“

“let me clean up the mess you made.” 

your eyes go wide as paige spreads your legs rather gently placing kiss after kiss to both your inner thighs, her veiny hands firm in their hold on you to ensure that you can’t squirm out of her reach. 

your breathing is airy and uneven again when you feel her getting closer and closer to your cunt, obviously still covered in cum.

“paige, i don’t know if i can–“

“you can. and you will. one more and then i’m done with you…for tonight.” she responds, not entertaining the idea of you getting out of this.

her breath is hot, hovering over you. you weakly lift yourself only your elbows to watch as her tongue wets her bottom lip and juts out once more to lick up your pussy from your leaking hole to your clit. 

you gasp loudly, your head falling to one shoulder. paige’s eyes are low as she holds eye contact with you for a second. she moans and they immediately shut when she tastes you.

she sucks your clit between her lips before circling her tongue around it a few times, you moan and your legs threaten to clamp shut around her head but her hands are there to pry them wide open again. 

you let yourself fall off of your elbows, chest heaving and you let out a whimper when she pumps her tongue into your hole. 

 you’re so sensitive this brings tears to your eye. you reach down and tangle your hands in her hair that’s a mess now, vastly contrasting how it looked earlier in the night. you think about pushing her head away but as much as it hurts it feels so good.

you feel greedy almost. already chasing your third orgasm of the night.

pulling back from her assault on your clit paige uses two fingers to circle your hole teasingly and then spread your folds. she gathers all of the saliva in her mouth before pursing her lips and spitting onto your cunt, connecting her mouth to you again shaking her head from side to side.

your eyes roll back into your head and a noise leaves your mouth, half a moan and half a sob. 

“shit–baby i’m close please don’t stop”

using the same hand that was just in you, paige reaches up to pinch one of your nipples. her mouth never faltering in motion.

this sends you over the edge. covering her hand with yours you’re screaming her name as tears roll down your cheeks. your back arches off of the bed as paige’s tight grip holds you down.

your eyes are so far into the back of your head that you think you see white for a second. then your stomach is tight and you get a sudden and overwhelming urge to pee. 

that’s not what’s happening.

paige’s mouth is wide open as you squirt, covering her chin, her chest, and the sheets beneath you. if you had the mental capacity to give a fuck you’d be a little shocked but right now it didn’t matter.

you can’t help but sob uncontrollably now, your pussy worn out and the rest of your body exhausted as well. paige disconnects herself from your lower half and is quick to hover over you kissing away any tears that continue to fall. she’s cooing in your ear in admiration, still a bit in awe herself.

“shh, it’s okay. you did so good for me baby, took it a fucking champ.” she whispers, laying beside you whilst laying an arm over your midsection as you begin to calm down.

you’re nothing but a sniffling mess but you try to pry your eyes open and you get a slight glimpse into the same blue ones that got you in this position.

leaning in paige places the softest kiss possible on your lips. you kiss back with the last bit of energy you have left before taking a deep breath as everything around you fades.

you don’t know how much time passes but when you blink back to consciousness you’ve been wiped down and you’re wearing clean clothes. your head rests on paige’s chest and her fingers trace shapes into the skin that’s exposed at your hip with your shirt ridden up. 

turning your head slightly, careful not to disturb paige as you can tell she’s in and out of sleep herself.

“look who finally decided to wake up,” she teases, “i got a little scared when your eyes closed and didn’t open again but when i realized you actually did pass out i had to stop myself from laughing.”

in disbelief you smack your lips and push at her chest, “you’re fucking ridiculous.” you say before also letting out a chuckle of your own at the irony of the situation. 

“no, it seems like i…fuck ridiculous.” 

“there’s no way you’re dead ass right now.”

“oh but i am.”

ignoring the way you roll your eyes she pulls you closer to her with the same hand that was already on your hip. kissing your forehead and resting her head atop yours. 

“thank you for tonight,” she whispers, grinning when you instinctively lift one leg to wrap around her waist, getting as close and comfortable as possible.

“i should be thanking you,” you begin to respond before yawning and burying your head into the crook of her neck. “tonight was perfect, i don't think i've ever cum that hard in my life.”

"you're welcome, you know i'm always at your service."

chuckling again in disbelief you gaze up at her one more time.

“i love you.”

"and i love you. only you, forever and always you. never forget it.'

you both finally shut your eyes and the night ends somehow better than you could’ve possibly imagined. you’re fed, fucked out, and quite literally wrapped in love.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Always the bridesmaid never the bride

I'm not going to lie. I forgot if this was a prompt or a response to something I posted since I got it back before Thanksgiving. But if it's the former then:

Danny says this to Bruce at Clark and Lois' wedding. He is convinced Bruce is in love- or in lust, at the least- with Clark because the wealthy man constantly popped up at their office for important "business" and "private exclusive" interviews.

Now, Danny won't lie and say he's a better journalist than Clark or Lois- those two are the top two of the Daily Planet. There is a reason almost all Superman stories are covered by them- but he's darn good himself. After retiring from protecting his town from Ghosts, he's only ever used his powers scarcely, but they have helped him with a few articles here or there.

His career as a reporting journalist was mainly made by his ability to stumble across trouble alone! Danny had won awards for his articles. He has been included in a city time capsule project.

Danny got the scoop on Jason Todd being alive story way before everyone else. After realizing the boy was in witness protection, he hadn't even exposed it without speaking to Mr.Wayne first. The man was nothing like the tabloids had one believe. Danny found him a severely intelligent man with a deep love for his family and city. He just distracted people with his razzle and dazzle, hiding his beautiful soul in plain sight.

It had been an eye-opening conversation. The duo made a deal to wait until Jason was safe to be announced; Danny waited three whole months before he was greenlighted to release his story. Jason Todd had officially "returned" from the dead with an exclusive interview with Danny Fenton.

Danny honored and protected his dignity by writing a story that made the public love the returned young man. He hated reporters who only dragged people's names through the mud because that wasn't real investigation; that was just accepting the latest gossip on the streets.

Bruce was so grateful that Danny hadn't put his son in danger that he even gave Danny a business card that went to his home office!

And yeah, okay, Clark had Bruce's personal cellphone, but Danny just couldn't understand why the billionaire was so hung up on Clark Kent. It wasn't like the guy was Superman!

And maybe he was overly happy to find out Clark and Lois were an item. Sure that someone as good as Bruce, for all his facade of being a party boy who never grew up, would never chase a taken man. Danny had been right, too, because Bruce Wayne appeared less and less around the Daily Plant office.

It was.....sad not to see him, but Danny was a very busy journalist. He was grateful that the distraction had finally taken the hint and scurried off somewhere. What irked him in the following year and a half of Clark and Lois dating was how often Perry signed the two to cover Gotham News.

Mostly at one of Bruce Wayne's extravagant parties! Yeah, it was sort of cool that most of Bruce's parties were charity events. He had checked the numbers himself, finding that Bruce's efforts were honest and working to better his city. How many billionaires actually kept their word when wanting to be a philanthropist?

Of course, Danny had to write a piece on it. The people needed to see the positive change Bruce was making. Sometimes, it felt like people forgot how much he gave to the city. The article went viral, and people on the other side of the world were praising the good man Bruce.

Perry had given Danny a raise for it.

Clark had ruined that significant mark on his record by placing a wrap present on his desk with a wide grin. Apparently, the two had gone on a yacht trip together without Lois or Bruce's significant other. Whoever that was. "Bruce wanted me to give you this as a thanks."

Ugh, the smug asshole was just rubbing it in Danny's face that he was still friends with his ex. The present had been a shitty ship in a bottle that Danny had placed beside his writing awards in his living room. You know it would be a waste to just throw it out.

Or let it get dusty. Or not stare at and wonder if Bruce knew he liked pirate movies, so the fact he had a model replica of Captain Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl made for Danny was really no big deal.

Then Bruce came by the office after buying out the Daily Planet, giving Clark a month's vacation paid due to some "family emergency."

Danny had been worried about Ma Kent and Pa Kent- the pair had visited the Daily Planet and were the nicest people to ever walk the planet- so like the well-mannered man his mother raised, he had gone to the farm with some of his Dad's famous fudge. Only to find the Kents unaware there was an emergency in the family until Danny reminded them.

He had been a journalist long enough to call bull on their meaningful glances. Danny knew that neither Bruce nor Clark would dare cheat on Lois. They were both too good for something as sleazy as that- and honestly, Lois would kill them- but that didn't stop Bruce from obviously still carrying around a torch for Clark.

Which meant he gave him unfairly favorable treatment in the workplace. Ugh! Perry didn't even seem to care, stating that Bruce had signed their paychecks, and as long as he wasn't forcing Clark into anything harassment-worthy, Danny just had to deal with his coworkers having friends in high places.

That meant they got away with different things. He just had to suck it up and accept it.

But now, Clark and Lois tied the knot. Bruce had to back off. He would never overstep a friend's relationship like this. Danny might have seen him sneak a few glances at the dancing couple- not that he was staring at Bruce Wayne! But the man was one of the hottest topics to write about, and he never knew when a good story would pop up.

It was rather sad, really. How Bruce forced himself to come to a celebration of the man he loved marrying and choosing someone else. Danny had dedicated a drink to his heartbreak- from clear across the room.

He wasn't on a personal cellphone number basis with Bruce Wayne, let's allow a "Drink your broken heart sorrow away with me" basis. And maybe Danny had a few too many. Perhaps he lost count after realizing it was an open bar because, surprise surprise, Bruce was footing the drink bill for all guests.

Danny doesn't remember what made him think he could cross the room to Bruce or why he found the courage to point a finger in his face before slurring, "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, eh Brucie?"

He does remember those piecing blue eyes locking him in place, brow folding in concern as Bruce replied. "Mr. Fenton, are you alright?"

"Me? Oh yeah! Just enjoying the party." He throws his arm up, spilling some of the alcohol out of the cup. He doesn't mind since the DJ starts to play one of his favorite songs, and he just has to sway to the beat. "This is a fun party. Are you having fun? I'm having fun!"

"I think you've had a little too much," Bruce says, helping Danny to his feet. When did he fall? Oh, right, when he was dancing. He laughs again, curling up on Bruce's chest. He feels it shift with the vibrations of the other man's voice. It's rather nice. "Did you come alone? Is there someone I can call for you?"

"Can I tell you a secret, Brucie?" Danny mutters, leaning forward to whisper into the man's ear before he can respond. "I live alone. I have no one to take care of me. I can't even drive."

"I see. I can have my driver take you home then. Can I see your wallet? I want to read the address-"

Danny has a second to think Oh no before his stomach lurches, and vomit falls out of his mouth all over Bruce Wayne's fancy suit that probably costs more than his house. Danny's eyes water. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't usually drink, and I feel terrible, and I-"

"It's alright. " Bruce says, smile still perfectly kind, understanding, and slightly dizzy. Danny knows he's lying, though- his reporter eyes can see right through that facade. He's pissed that Danny threw up on him. Understandably.

He starts sobbing, apologizing even more, and pointing out how he knows Bruce is actually upset.

Bruce looks mildly surprised before throwing one of his arms over his shoulder and helping him out of the hotel ballroom. The reception had started hours ago, and despite it not being anywhere near over, no one would bat an eye at them leaving early.

They were walking down the hallway. Danny found himself leaning on a counter, laughing into his hands about a potted plant, while Bruce chatted up the lady at a computer. He told the pair that Bruce should rebound with a man instead of a woman if he wanted to get over Clark but was ignored by them.

Rude.

Then suddenly, Danny was being pressed into a soft mattress on his back while someone was taking off his shoes and losing his tie. When did he get home? How had he moved that quickly?

This didn't feel like his pillow. Danny has a special one. He can't sleep with it. He packs his pillow when he travels, even if it's just one night he plans to stay. Danny has used the same pillow for years now.

"I'm sorry, I can't get your special pillow, but I can give you lots of water." A man says, making Danny blink and open his eyes. His eyelids feel so heavy that it takes him a moment to stay open.

Above him, Bruce is carefully unbuttoning his suit jacket. The billionaire had removed his own coat, but the vomit-covered white shirt remains. Danny feels ashamed at the sight even as Bruce pulls his arms out of the jacket sleeves.

"Sorry," He whimpers. "About the vomit."

"It's alright. You needed to throw up. Do you feel better?"

Danny nods, closing his eyes and feeling a warm towel run along his face. He sighed as the sticky, gross feeling around his mouth was gone, and he sank further into the Not Right But Comfty pillow.

"Sleep well, Mr. Fenton," Bruce says, tucking the blankets around Danny once he finishes cleaning him up. Danny hums, already half gone, when he whispers.

"You're a good man. No matter what you present to the world. No matter if you believe you're not, I know you're good."

There is a moment of silence before Bruce replies. "I paid for the hotel room. It comes with a free breakfast, so when you're feeling up to it, come down for food tomorrow. Have a good night, Mr. Fenton."

"Stay?"

"I'm sorry. I never intended to stay; I just wanted to get you somewhere safe. Going home in your state would have been a bad idea."

Danny's words are nearly too slurried to be understood as he slowly slips away: "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, Fenton. Bruce would never want you."

He wakes up with a killer hangover, confused about where the hell he is, and almost has a heart attack when he realizes he crumpled up the suit pants he rented. All that is so hard to process in thirty seconds that he nearly missed the written note on the nightstand.

Call me xxx-xxx-xxxx

XOXO

Bruce Wayne

What in the world happened at Clark's and Lois's wedding!?

[fangbanger3000]

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

[rottenherbs]

Saint Like // G.W x reader

Request: Would you write a George x reader where Molly doesn't like George's girlfriend and she's kind of mean towards her but when she sees reader take care of George after he loses his ear she starts to slowly accept her?

Word count: 2.2k

Authors note: finally back to writing! Yippie!! That sickness actually was the worst ive had in years.

[masterlist]

Much love, Saige

———

It hurts to be dismissed by your boyfriend's mother. Year after year you arrive at his home, welcomed by others in his family, banter with his father, and simultaneously given the stark cold shoulder by the woman who gave him life.

It confused you to no end. She never supported the twins' endeavors; she consistently dismissed and shrouded any thought of their joke shop, practically banning any conversation of the idea in the burrow indefinitely. In her own world, Fred and George would magically wake up one day and decide that they wanted to pursue a career that was more lucrative. Her own fear of poverty inflamed her distaste in their aspirations — purely because it had the possibility of their own financial demise. She wanted better for her boys, and unfortunately you were the easy scapegoat to place blame.

It poked and prodded every nerve on you. You wanted nothing but success and love for George and his family, but you were seen as a threat to the possibilities that they might turn out… normal.

—

The climate of the wizarding world was beyond bleak. Everyday you rose to the sun, beyond blessed to be living another day, but filled with anxieties that it truly may be your last.

Your addition to the order was practically mandatory. With no ties to your parents it was easy for you to sign away your life for the greater good. Your heart lied with Goerge and your friends and fighting next to them would be an honor.

As it came up on Harry’s seventeenth birthday, figuring out how to transport the boy became more trivial. The magical protection given to him by his mothers sacrifice would wear off and he would be more vulnerable to Voldemort than ever. Every movement or spell he made was under the view of the ministry and it had to be done with extreme caution.

The burrow was the next safest place for him, but getting him there bred confusion and limited options.

“What if we just had him apparate out?” Ron asked. The order sat around the kitchen table at the Burrow, just days before operation Free Potter.

”He is still underage Ron, it’ll be flagged immediately.” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes slightly. Ron shook his head.

”We’re already breaking the law, why not one more!” He chuffed, disappointed how easily his idea was shut down.

“Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem.” Moody interrupted “He’s made it an imprisonable offence to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here or Apparate in or out.”

The table silenced at his arrival, everyone soaking in the new information and the loss of yet another helper on the inside.

“That’s pointless, he is protected anyway -“ You started. You were honestly just thinking out loud, soon realizing everyone’s eyes on you.

“All that’s done is stop Harry from leaving safely.” You coughed, attempting to find your voice again. Moody shook his head in agreement, those in the order all now speaking among themselves. George arrived at the kitchen taking a spot next to you. He nudged you quietly, smirking down at you.

“Anything juicy?” He whispered, leaning down. You smiled and shook your head no, leaning over to reply.

“Just all hobgobble about how we will get Harry here. Even moody is stumped.” You whispered. George scoffed.

“Moody stumped? Give him like 4 minutes, we’ll be out of here in no time.” He chuffed. The feeling of his hot breath tickled your neck, causing you to shiver slightly. Giggling, you looked over the room, unfortunately making eye contact with Mrs Weasley. She pursed her lips and scowled.

“I think we ought not be distracted.” She stood, walking around the large table to the sink. She stood with her hands firmly on the ledge leaning away from the crowd. As much as you felt targeted by the statement she was right.

“Its risky but it’ll take cooperation… from all yous.” Moody thumped, his fake eye spiraling around the room. Thievery fell into a hush, waiting for what he had to reveal.

“Everyone will be a potter. As many heads as we can round up. They’ll be confused, won’t know who’s who.” He coughed, opening his flask and taking a swig.

“Polyjuice potion?” George asked. It was more of a rhetorical question of course, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Aye boy.” Moody nodded.

“They’ll just kill us all.” Molly shrieked, the idea of everyone now the face of the target became increasingly daunting.

“No they won’t Molly.” Remus coincided. “We ride on brooms, quietly through the night in groups eh” He raised his eyebrows, checking the feelings of the table. Most people nodded in agreement.

“It’s the order Molly. We’ve been in danger from the beginning. It’s not the time to become fearful.” Moody coughed, standing up from the table.

“One month from today. Stay vigilant.” Moody snapped from the room, leaving everyone in silence.

—

The month came and went in a flash. It felt as if the sky was grey every day since that meeting. No sign of summer or joy, only the steep consequences that were to come.

“Hi my love.” George purred from behind you. He wrapped his arms around your torso, resting his head on top of your.

“Hi.” You whispered, leaning back into his body. You both swung lightly in each other's arms enjoying the feeling of peace.

“They just got word of who’s flying.” He mumbled, keeping his head steady. You kept swaying, but your body stiffened slightly at his words.

“You’re going.” You sighed. You knew he would, and you kicked yourself daily for worrying about his demise. It wasn’t exactly a positive situation to be in, but your milling about danger wouldn’t help.

“I know you wish I could stay, but Fred and I fly well, and they need people who are confident in their brooms.” He murmured, rubbing your sides lovingly. He turned you around to face him, his cheeks warm with glow, beaming down at you.

“What am I doing?” You asked, holding his arms tightly. Part of you wished to be in the sky with him, as if your presence could protect.

“You, my beautiful bird-“ George leaned down, kissing your forehead after every word. “You are meant to stay here. Look for signs and send alerts back if anything happens.”

You didn’t respond, you just sighed and smiled.

“I know you wanted to go.” He whispered. “But it’ll be good. A good opportunity to help from the ground.” He smiled. You could tell he was trying to reassure you, his eyes darting between yours looking for any sign of disapproval.

“Okay.” You whispered, leaning up so your nose grazed his. “I’ll be waiting for you, and you better come back in one piece.”

—

The night finally arrived and you spent every waking moment with George. You hated to think it was your last time seeing him, but the reality was clear. Anything could happen tonight and you would be sure that it was spent with him.

After dinner, Moody arrived at the burrow rallying up those who were going.

“5 minutes and we must be out, got it?” He looked around the room, heads nodding in acceptance. He turned to you and Molly, softening his face.

“You two will be the first to know if anything happens. I will send a message once we have left the Dursleys, then we will be back here in approximately 30 minutes.” His eyes widened in question, looking for any look of approval between you two. You dare not look at Molly and keep eye contact with Moody.

“Yes sir.” You choked, the air in your chest seizing.

“Atta girl. Alrig’t move out.” Moody winked, turning on his heel and walking out of the room, numerous bodies following. George paused and jogged over to you, kissing your cheek and squeezing your hand before joining the fray.

Once everyone left the burrow became quiet. Molly soon looked for any way to busy her fingertips knowing she’d have to distract her mind or else she’d go mad. You stood by the window for a short period, looking at the sky and prairie out past the horizon looking for any sign of movement. Hearing a hefty sigh behind you, you turned to face the sound, already anticipating a lecture.

“Could you help me make supper? I bet they’ll be hungry when they get back.” Mrs.Weasley spoke softly, her back turned to you still maneuvering pots and pans in the kitchen. You nodded to yourself and took a deep breath in, walking over near her.

“Maybe start with the potato’s, rid the eyes and peel the skin for me.” She didn’t look at you, instead speaking into her hands, sniffling after ever few words. She wasn’t crying, but you could hear the trouble in her voice clear as day. Grabbing a peeler, you got to work, trying to pass the time as well.

“I hope you know I don’t .. loathe you like you may think.” She whispered, just loud enough so that you’d hear but quiet enough that the words don’t linger in the air.

You stood in silence, peeling the potatoes, confused entirely by her statement.

“I don’t think-“ you lied, thinking it was the right thing to counter, even deep down you felt that she thought you were better off dead most days.

“You have every right to think it.” She snuffed, pausing her work and biting her cheek. “I just….”

“I understand a mothers love.” You whispered, picking up another potato and holding it softly. “I understand wanting the best for your children, but ..” you choked. You didn’t know if you had the confidence to say yet another thing that would make her angry.

“But sometimes their best interest isn’t yours and it’s out of a mothers control what their adult children do.” You finished. You knew it was the truth, but on the heels of Percy abandoning the family it had to have stung just as hard.

Mrs Weasley didn’t respond. She didn’t move her head or acknowledge your statement but stood and pondered what you said. You couldn’t tell if she was boiling with rage or the words finally penetrated the field of deep affection that clouded her judgement so.

Just from the window, a owl rapped the glass, begging to be let in.

“That’s them.” She muttered, wiping her hands on her apron and rushing over to let the owl in.

“Thirty minutes.” She sighed

“Thirty minutes.” You repeated.

Time moved extremely fast after that. You both were taking turns by the window to cool down your nerves with the cold night air. The meal was brewing magically on the stone and didn’t need the tender touch of either of you to finish. Even though very little was said between you two, it felt as if you had become closer because of tonight. At least, we understood a little more about each other retroactively.

The sound of loud snapping wood alerted you both that people were apperating at the burrow. Running out of the burrow, you locked eyes with Harry, who was barreling off of Harris’s motorbike, stumbling towards the house.

“Death Eaters, loads of them — we were chased —" Harry coughed, falling into Mrs.Weaslys arms. Your mind raced, searching the sky for any one else who would arrive.

“Death eaters-“ You whispered, fear overtaking your body. You could taste the adrenaline in your mouth, a sour foul feeling overcoming your every sense. Luckily the pain of unknowing was only for a moment more, as Lupin and George followed suit.

“George!” You cried, running over to the boy. His hand held the side of his head, blood was dripping down his shoulder and across his cheek.

“I’m okay im okay.” He mumbled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and hoisting himself upon your small frame. You tugged his body indoors, flopping him on the family couch in the living room.

“It’s just my ear darling.” He smiled weakly, his face was pale from the loss of blood but still held your hand tightly. Mrs.Weasley quickly began to tend to her son, allowing you to hold his hand and be with him through it all. Even though you were slightly inconvenient to her tendings, she dare not ask you to move. Both Fred and you had been tied together, your sobs uncontrollable.

“Honestly I think I’m way cuter without an ear. Don’t you think?” George tossed, rubbing your hand affectionately. Mrs Weasley had successfully stoped the bleeding and bandaged what she could, leaving you both alone in the room. Just in the kitchen, Lupin and the order continued to talk about their now sudden loss of Moody and who could be trusted.

“It definitely makes you stand out.” You laughed, finally feeling comfortable in his state. You both smiled at each other, the everlasting admiration you had for him only grew, how resilient and fateful even in the face of death he had been.

“I’ll always get the last laugh-“

[corpsedogs]

✿ warmest of colds (req)

jason todd x f!reader

( ♡ jason lets you bother him since you can’t sleep )

You and Jason had just gotten into bed, the covers were pulled over your chest and the lights were out, the only light visible was the city lights outside and the dim moonlight.

You weren’t sleepy yet for some apparent reason, your sleep schedule kind of got mixed when Jason started coming over more and more. Not that you didn’t mind waking up late, but you tend to get bored when you can’t sleep.

You shifted to face his side, your bed was placed beside the wall and you’ve always wondered why he always stays on that part of the bed. You’ve once tried and claim that spot but he’d always find a way to lay down on his spot.

“You’re always next to the wall whenever you sleep.” you said, you can kind of see his eyes open as they darted towards you. “Yep.” he replied before closing his eyes again.

You placed your hands beneath your cheek, pillowing it to get comfortable. “But, the wall is cold.” Jason crosses his arms, “Well, if I stay on the other side you’re just going to kick and squish me.” you pouted, letting out a scoff.

“I’d never.” You replied as you pretended to be hurt by his words. Jason can’t help but ponder, why does it matter to you what side of the bed he takes?

He then faced towards you, raising his brow “Really now?” he says, “You have more benefits anyway, the other side makes it easier to get out of bed.” well, that was true.

You gave up bothering him as you stared back at the ceiling. Your eyes trailed at the light bulb as you stared at it for a bit, what a nice shade of grey… yeah, this won’t help you sleep at all. You tossed and turned while Jason didn’t seem to budge at all.

You then had an idea and faced him again, “Can I hold your face?” he did not oblige and moved towards you, you then cupped both of his cheeks as he furrows his brows, “Your hands are freezing, how the hell are you this cold?” you only smiled in the dark light, “Maybe I’m a snowman.”

You could feel him scoff at your corny remark, “Give me your hands.” he said. He took your hands between his and began rubbing it. “How are your hands warm?” you asked but Jason only shrugged, “No idea.”

His heat melted in your skin as you relaxed at his touch, you’ve always been aware that his hands were always warm, even at winter. You stayed silent as you watched him do his magic, “Well?” he calls out, snapping you out on your blank stare “I like it, it feels real nice.”

“Then move closer.” Jason wrapped his arm around your body and pulled you close. He noticed the blankets were on the edge of your hips and pulled them back. You sighed as buried your face in his shoulder blade, “You stopped paying attention to my hands.”

“You’ve warmed up, plus I only have two hands.” He said, patting your back. “And I need one to hold you.” You complained again, “But it’s not the same. I want something warm.”

Jason sighs, “Here.” he took your hands and slid them under his shirt, placing your cold hands on his waist. “Ohh, this is better.” you said.

He hummed at you as he continued to hug you, rubbing his warm hands on your back as he felt you relax in his embrace. He planted a kiss on your forehead, “Tired?” he asked. You only hummed, “No, actually.”

Jason yawned, “Are you sure? It’s still late for you, isn’t it?” He buried his face on your neck, his lips grazing your skin gently.

You shook your head, “You messed up my sleep schedule a bit.” you said as you started to yawn as well. “You say so but now your eyes are drooping down, you’re gonna fall asleep any second now.” as he said that your eyes suddenly opened, “I was just resting my eyes.”

“Mm, sure.” he says as he planted a kiss on your chin “Go to sleep.”

Finally giving in, you then closed your eyes and went off to dream land.

🍓 i love making this one, i swear ill write longer fics soon. please reblog or comment it helps a lot.

[azziesbattybaddie]

Shadows and Snow Angels

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs

Chapter 2 - My scars won't heal

Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

Word count: 1.5k

💔 💘

Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA, we die like men. Every chapter will be individually tagged.

If you don't like what your reading click off!

Author's note: ok, so I kinda his a manic a episode and now I'm writing the second chapter literally the minute I posted the first. We'll see how long it will take me to finish this one but if y'all are lucky, maybe we'll get 2 chapters in one day!

Author's note 2: lucky streak gone but at least it'll be on time. I'm gonna try to post a new chapter every Friday, but we'll see how it goes, life's kinda crazy rn.

Chapter warnings: brief talk of child abuse, Azzie is a traumatized baby, this chapter is actually more fluff than angst but still, we die like men.

Rhys opened the door, only in his pajamas with his hair sticking up in random places. It must have been a long night. Nyx just turned two a couple months ago and he was having a horrible time sleeping through the night. Rhys and Feyre took shift but everyone knew that Rhys was the one that usually stayed up with him.

"hey I'm sorry, I know it's late, or well early, but we officially have an emergency." You said while Rhys just glanced between the two of you, it took him a good second to realize that there was suddenly an extra little one with you both. Azriels shadows darted past Rhys's feet to go check if the house was safe.

"yeah come on in, I'll go get Feyre." Rhys stepped aside and let you both in before jogging tiredly up the stairs to get his mate. You quietly sat down on the couch to re adjust the little hat Elain made for Astrid, fixing it to sit on her delicate head better. You chuckled as Rhys's appearance. Who knew that out of get trapped in hell for 50 years, enduring another war and having a baby, it was the baby that finally got him. "Poor high lord."

Azriel was still standing but he seemed to be enjoying bouncing Rhain in his arms, rocking him side to side as his shadows created a Shadowy mobile above them. He chuckled softly at your comment, glance in his brothers direction before looking back to the little boy in his arms. They were practically making heart eyes at eachother, if it wasn't so late at night you might have asked Feyre to paint it.

The way Azriel interacted with children was honestly what drew him to you in the first place and the ease in the way he can calm them makes your heart melt every time. Your mate was always so still and calm so seeing him bouncing and sway your daughter and the same way he does with Rhain now, made your heart soar higher than the stars above.

You were still smiling at your mate when you heard rushed footsteps flying down the stairs. You didn't have to look up to know that Feyre was running to come see the little one. The Shadows flared defensively but calmed at the sight of their high lady.

"OK, WHERE TH-" you shushed her quickly before she woke up all three kids in the house. She was still in her night gown and her hair was tied back messily. "Sorry, where the hell did this little cutie come from!..."

You chuckled as Feyre took Rhain from your mate. He looked skeptical and basically hovered over his sister in-law as she cuddled the baby. The Shadows however, seemed content to huddle around you and Astrid on the couch, completely ignoring their masters anxious behavior.

"Az, would you calm down, she's not gonna drop him." You say barely containing your laughter. He was actually just as overprotective as the day you brought your daughter home. It was adorable.

"Oh my gods! What's his name?!" Feyre squealed quietly and came to settle on the couch next to you. Rhain was babbling softly and grabbed Feyre's finger in his small hand.

"Rhain. His name is Rhain." Azriel said, still standing next to feyre, he's hands twitching at his side, wanting to take Rhain back from her. You shook your head at his antics, he's had this baby in his care for like 2 hours and he's already acting like Mother hen.

"I'm sorry, I know it late and I know that Nyx id having issues sleeping but we don't have anything that will fit him and I decided that this officially classified as an emergency."

"No, don't worry about it at all! Not at all, no! Not at all!" She said less to you as she cooed down at your little boy before actually lifter her gaze to you and responding. "Yeah, absolutely this is an emergency. Come on I'm sure I could spare some jumpers for him, Cauldron knows that Rhys is gonna buy him more anyway."

Feyre stood and tried to walk away with the Rhian still wrapped I her arms but a wall of shadows came to block her from walking away just long enough for Azriel to take him back. Feyre just rolled her eyes and lead you upstairs, muttering jokingly to herself about Azriel being overprotective.

2 hours later you all were back at your own home, azriel settling the baby's down for bed. You had added a temporary separator in the crib just for tonight, you'll have to make a trip to the Palace quarters tomorrow for another one. Your mate had just finished building your daughter's nursery and now you're either gonna have to rearrange everything or finds another room in your home for a second nursery... Wonderful...

Once they were both swaddled, wings and all, they were out like a light before he could flip the switch. You were sitting in bed trying to read and relax but you mind was reeling from the days events. Your mind wandered to Rhain. He was so small, he still had that fresh baby smell. You had tried to explain the smell to Mor one time but she thought you were crazy, must be a mom thing. He was underweight and dehydrated from what you could tell, the poor thing could barely suckle the bottle you had fed him earlier. You were lost in thought, book discarded laying open in your lap, as Azriel came into the room, his footsteps as silently as ever.

"So how much trouble am I in?" Your head snapped up at his voice. 4 years... 4 years you had been together and he still manages to sneak up on you, you'd think you would be better at spotted him now but no. You looked up at him, you eyes locked on him as you pulled yourself from the whirlwind of questions and worries you had gotten lost in. He was leaning forward against the bed frame at the foot of the bed. His Shadows fluttered and flitted out into the room randomly as per usual when it was time for bed. It was interesting, most people thought Azriels Shadows were just extensions of him but in reality, most of them had personalities and curiosity, it was kinda cute to watch them.

"come here..." You opened your arms for him and waited as he quickly shrugged off his leathers and siphons, a few of the Shadows helping him by catching his siphons and placing them on the dresser silently. He sank onto he stomach and into your arms with a sigh. He nuzzled his face into your chest as his wings relaxed and sprawled across the massive bed.

"I'm not upset with you. I mean I would have loved a heads up that we were gonna adopt an infant today but I know that the circumstances were anything but ideal. Trust me I would have been PISSED if I found out you didn't bring him home. You are the most compassionate and empathetic person I've ever known. Thats one of the reasons I love you so much." You smile as you feel every muscle in his body melt under your hands, your fingers working out the knots from his back. He let out a breathy moan when you gently pressed your fingers into the onyx skin at the base of his wings.

"he needed me, and you. Besides your a good mama, if anyone could give him the love he needs it's you..." He lifted himself slightly to settle on top of you better, he's arms wrapping around your waist and his thighs spreading yours a bit more. You took a second to bask in the moment, your fingers tangling and brushing through his hair, a couple of shadows coming to rest on the pillow next to you. You thanked the mother for moments like this. For the times when you both could just hold each other and feel just as loved and seen as if you had spent the night making the house shake.

"Thank you... for understanding, for not being upset. You have every right to be..." azriel mumbled, his voice laced with emotion. He was right, you did have a right to be mad but you weren't. How could you ever be upset with him for being the most loving male in Prythian?! You hugged him tighter and kissed his forehead.

"Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever your thinking about?" You smoothed a hand over his back to try and comfort him. Even though you had been mated for a few years there were still secrets and things he refused to tell you, especially about his excuse of a childhood. You knew the basics, a general idea of how he was treated but he never went into details. You liked to think he wouldn't tell you because he knew you would find his half brothers and rip them to shreds, although You knew in reality it was most likely just to painful to actively try to remember.

"yeah I do, but not tonight. I... we can talk about it tomorrow, I don't want to ruin the night..." He said choosing his words carfully. Azriel easily sat up and flipped you both so you to rest against his side and pulled the covers over you both, the Shadows that had been occupying the pillow previously jumped away I'm a misty puff. You didn't press. You knew he would tell you when he was ready to open up. It made sense, that he past would rear it's ugly head after he brought Rhain home. You left a small kiss on his chest before snuggling into him and letting yourself drift off into your thoughts, the shadows descending over you both is calm wave urging you both into sleep.

Thank you so much for reading and as always I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! If you wanna be added to the tag list please comments or DM me to be added!

Taglist

@romantasyreader28 @tele86 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @icey--stars @paleidiot @jir67 @celestialamore @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @queenoffeysand @suppppp97

[mayapapaya33]

Well, I haven't read the origins comic yet, so I'll take your word for that. Some of the comic stuff is a bit wibbly on canon so I'm not sure if I do take it as campaign canon really, but I'll just go with it for the purposes of this conversation. (The fact that she never once mentions being run out of town by Yeza in the campaign makes that a little weird but sure ok. It also feels a little retconny to brush over her major fear that her family would reject her even if they DID know it was her under the curse, which was what was implied to be a big reason she stayed away in the campaign, in favor of it being because they DID chase her away based purely on what she looked like before she could say anything. It feels...strange. I'm not sure how I feel about it, I'll have to think about it. It just feels like after the fact justification of her staying away from them to me, but oh well. LET WOMEN BE FLAWED 2025! lol I am eventually going to get my hands on all of the origins comics, I just haven't done so yet.)

My point wasn't really a moral argument about Veth and Lilliana having done equally bad things in the world, obviously that's not true. I could have said It better, but I guess I just thought that was obvious and I was tired? lol, silly me. So to make it clearer: Veth is a hero who helped save the world, and Liliana fell in with a cult and did terrible things under the woefully misguided belief she was doing the right thing. I'm more saying I could see Veth turning out like Liliana if things went differently and their initial act of abandonment is fundamentally similar. Also, it's not just the hag thing btw, that was just the most obvious and memorable example I could reference and know everyone would know what I was talking about without writing a 5 page essay and hunting down obscure time stamps lol.

Another example was her stance in that discussion about justice and vengeance from ep 98 (26:26) with Caduceus. Cad basically said: Hey, going after criminals in the Empire sounds great if you can be smart about it, but if you're just doing it to make yourself feel better, I don't really see the point of that, so maybe don't because you'll probably restart the war if you aren't extremely careful. And Veth's response was very understandable from her characters pov, but makes me think that, yeah, in the right circumstances, she'll do what she wants, when she wants, and damn the consequences and it won't be about justice, it'll be about making herself feel good and she'll find the internal justification she needs to. "You can stand by -You can just watch bad people get away with it?" If the price of stopping one bad person is reigniting a WAR, um yeah, I can Veth. He's basically saying, don't cause more problems than you are going to fix by your actions, and interrogate your motivations and she wasn't having it. I think he might have gotten through to her in the end but I'm not sure because they "dissolved" using mouth sounds and hand waving into the next scene of Jester finding Marion.

There are many things that make me think this about her. Anger and desperation can cause people to make poor decisions. (I think you might have misconstrued the one bit where I was debating whether letting your family think you were dead and staying gone or just saying goodbye and abandoning them was actually worse or not, I personally vote dead being worse but I'm genuinely not sure, like I said. So, in that one aspect I think Veth's worse, but not for everything lol. The misguided hope left behind from what Liliana did might be worse.)

My point was that they both abandoned their families in order to solve a problem. Yes, Liliana left "voluntarily" right from the start in the sense that she wasn't kidnapped by goblins and transformed against her will, her "against her will change" was foisted upon her by a God Eater trapped in moon jail instead. She was essentially kidnapped by her own powers, she couldn't control them and needed to figure out what they were and how to deal with them. So yes, it was a choice for her to leave as you so aptly pointed out, just not quite as voluntary a choice as people keep presenting it as. I suppose it's more accurate for me to say it was Liliana's choice to leave, and Veth's choice to STAY gone (yes, even with the addition of the comic lore).

Don't you remember early campaign Imogen constantly having to be careful and worried about her telepathy? How it hurt her to be in large crowds? How her town DID treat her like garbage, like a pariah, "like an outright monster" even. It's not like Liliana left for fun. She was scared she was going to hurt someone if she didn't learn how to control herself, and worried that Imogen would develop those powers too. (That was her initial reasoning, and then things devolved of course). You said it yourself; The Grim Verity was taking too long, and she wanted to go home so she fell in with Ludinus and co because he promised answers and a solution.

Veth's initial separation from her family OBVIOUSLY wasn't her fault, and apparently in the comics she tried to go home and was run off for looking like a goblin. Well, that truly sucks for Comic Book Veth and she has my sympathy. There are still a variety of things she could have done, including once she befriended Caleb enough where she trusted him, have him go to Yeza in person and explain the curse and everything while she hid at the outskirts of town. She could have told Caleb a bunch of things only Veth would know to help convince Yeza, Etc.

At a certain point, Veth's Choice to stay away from her family was just as voluntary as Liliana's. She could have tried (or tried again if comics are canon) at any time, and she didn't. The problem wasn't solved so they "couldn't" go home and then events spiraled. Again, they aren't the same, I just think their situations parallel each other interestingly. Becoming "not a goblin" was not the only way for Veth to reunite with her family. It's perfectly understandable that she thought that it was considering all of her trauma and her shame and her fear, but that doesn't make it true. It was still an active choice that she made to not try to reunite with her family until she looked "normal" again, even once her circumstances had changed and she could have had help. She didn't try because she didn't want her family seeing her like that and because she was scared of what they would think. (Again, very understandable, but still a choice). What if Caleb couldn't find a way to change her back into a halfling? Would she never have gone home, continuing to look for a solution?

Liliana "couldn't" go home until she understood and could control her powers, a reasonable yet tragic decision, which then spiraled into it being that she "couldn't" go home until she helped "save" the world from the tyranny of the Gods, etc. Somewhat less reasonable I think you'll agree. How long does Veth's decision to not try (or not try again) to reunite with her family until she's no longer a goblin remain reasonable? One year? Five years? Ten years? It was a combination of luck and hard work that got her a new body as relatively fast as she did. Caleb and Essek meeting and becoming magic bffs might never have happened without Caleb's "I'm never going back to jail" moment in the Bright Queen's throne room for example lol.

More than all of that though, I'm not a huge fan of Veth's parenting while she IS present in Luc's life but seeing as Liliana hasn't really been present in Imogen's life for more than like a month, that's about where any parallels or comparisons stop lmfao. A lot of Veth's bad parenting once she's back in Luc's life is also due to the fact that Sam Riegel is a comedian first and an actor second so if he sees an opportunity to be funny, he'll pounce. Which unfortunately for poor Veth, does mean that if you look at her with a sober eye she comes across as a dreadful parent. Hilarious of course, but I did end up feeling bad for Yeza whenever I saw him futilely trying to be responsible whenever the M9 came trampling through their lives being bad influences. Honestly, she wonders why teenage Luc is like that! I learned it from watching you mom!

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[russellbee]

I MIGHT SAY SOMETHING STUPID (MV1)

max verstappen x driver!reader (team & gender are ambiguous) summary. you've never been good at talking to people. you can never form the right words, hold eye contact, or in worst cases, think before you speak. so truthfully, you're not really surprised when you end up confusing max with your spontaneous confession. unbeknownst to both of you, lando brings you back together. (writing, texts, + a bit of smau) (3.3k) warnings. for self-hate & mentions of hate comments, mentions of anxiety(!!!), everyone is confused and oblivious (except lando!), george and max rivalry is very present, mentions of alcohol & intoxication, use of y/n, reader has parents (and is close-ish with them), sorry if your name is spencer (the name is used for a friend), george doesn't have a gf(!!!), mentions of sex (but it’s really nothing), and cursing. andi's note!! inspired by my beautiful adhd brain 😍😍 (and my max obsession, ofc!) the title is from 'i might say something stupid' by charli xcx but the song doesn't have anything to do with the fic!

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You've seen multiple media outlets say that your mouth is disconnected from your brain with the amount of (accidental) out of pocket things you've said. Your first post-race interview in F1 ended with you severely embarrassed because you tried to make a joke but the way you worded it made it sound rude. You had backtracked as soon as you realized how it came off (honestly, it took too long) but you still had the comments you'd seen online stuck in your head.

Every season in F1 you get increasingly more nervous to talk in interviews or to the other drivers; the comments and articles gnawing at your self esteem. But with Max it's always been different. He can laugh off an unintentional brash remark or just raise an eyebrow and in a snap you'll realize what went wrong. So, because of how easy it is to talk to Max you've become close.

You're in Abu Dhabi, the season's ended and George Russell is getting on your nerves. He's in your sight, talking to Lando and Alex; laughing. You don't dislike George, he's always been nice to you but your love for Max trumps your like for George. Love?

You're just a little tipsy. It's fine.

As long as George doesn't go near you maybe you won't open your mouth. It's always hard to stop talking the second you get alcohol in your system; not a single word is filtered, it all just comes out.

Someone is staring at you, it better not be George because he knows what you'd do for—

"Are you alright?" Max sits down next to you, gin & tonic in hand. He's so— warm. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his jeans. (It's not really warm enough for shorts but you couldn't remember the weather from last year, so you're stuck in a pair of shorts you brought to Qatar.)

"Huh?" What he said comes back to you and you stammer, "Oh, sorry. I'm fine just thinking. I guess."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah, y'know." You really are thinking; thinking about how good his cologne smells and wondering if it clings to him night and day. Does he always smell this great? How have you never noticed this?

"What are you thinking— Do you ever feel like, really obsessed with someone? Like you see them and you want them. Bad." You cut through his question with your own (stupid) question. Neither of you are looking at each other. You're too focused on not looking at him, actually. Why do you always do this? Did you never learn how to talk to people?

You're so busy panicking that you don't notice your eyes are still on George, and Max has noticed; his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Had he been reading things wrong?

You're waiting at your gate when you get the text. You feel your phone buzz against your thigh and you hope, and hope that it's Max. You're terrified to message him first, worried he heard the meaning of your question and didn't want to acknowledge it. He hadn't said anything last night. Maybe he's finally sick of you. Can't even let him speak, or think before you talk with a single drop of alcohol in your body. You squeeze your eyes tight and will your brain to stop talking. Then, after a deep breath you open Whatsapp and see it's from Alex.

alex albon

did you tell max to apologise to george?

You blink. What? Never in your life would you think Max would apologize to George. You wouldn't tell him to either. What had gotten into him? Who would be able to change his mind like that?

alex albon

y/nnn

you have read receipts on ik you saw this

You sigh, trying to slow down your brain so you can make your thoughts coherent for Alex.

you

sorry i was thinking

didn't tell him to do that

idk why he would, it's not like him

alex albon

alright thanks 👍

i think we're all confused rn haha

Your boarding group is called and you feel a little bit of annoyance bubble in you. This is gonna be stuck in your mind for the entire flight.

the best rookies

lando

i think y/n likes george

or that's what max thinks at least

alex

and how did you come to this conclusion?

george

That makes no sense

Y/n and I don't talk that often

lando

i saw them together b4 y/n left

they were staring at us

prob george tho

considering everything

george

Many people stare at us, Lando

lando

you don't getttt it

max looked like

mad but confused?? he was very focused on you

and y/n looked like they wanted the earth to swallow them

v embarrassed yknow

alex

y/n probably just said smth wrong

can't really see them liking george

george

If anything, Y/n likes Max

lando

max doesn't care when they do that tho

ik y/n likes max thats like super obvious

ugh u guys dont get it at all 😒

You had practiced your speech for the awards, had repeated it over and over in your head. P3 in the championship, a first for you. Then you made a fool of yourself, stumbled over your words. People had laughed a bit, but in the back of your mind you acknowledge it had nothing to do with the jokes you attempted. At least you didn't have to take any more photos.

Lando finds you as you're about to leave, wiping the tears off of your cheeks and steadying your breathing. "You weren't that bad you know?" Lando teases and you let out a breathy laugh. "Fuck off." He laughs and you both start to leave the venue.

You make meaningless small talk. Lando is going to ski with friends and you'll be visiting a childhood friend, Spencer, in London. You're both anticipating a better season. The valets go to retrieve your cars, and you're both left standing on the sidewalk. It's a little humid, but not enough to make you want to blast the AC.

"Did you see George's post on Insta?" Lando asks after the silence has settled. Your face scrunches up, "Sorry?" You would've been fine to stay quiet until one of your cars arrived and you'd say goodbye. Lando had other plans, apparently.

"His post saying goodbye to Lewis. The last picture was nice, wasn't it?" You feel like there's something Lando's searching for but you can't put the pieces together. "I don't follow George on Insta. I— It's not like I don't like him, it's just. We're not really close?" Lando raises a brow, and it's not like when Max does it. It's something else, and you don't understand. You want to ask why, what he's thinking, but the valet parks your car in front of the sidewalk before you can.

Lando moves forward when the valet gets out, holding the driver's side door open for you. What is going on? You look at Lando, questions floating in your head and then hesitantly get into your car. "Have a nice off-season." Lando's grin is triumphant. Not like when he's at the top of a podium, something different and unfamiliar, yet kind.

"Yeah, thanks." Maybe you just don't know him well enough.

Lando double checks everything. He looks through his and George's mutuals and looks through the likes on George's end-of-season posts. He's never been more determined to prove Alex and George wrong. (And getting you and Max together, of course!)

Oscar looks at him weird 'cause he's grinning at his phone, then teases him, asks him if he's got a girlfriend. Lando laughs it off, because how is he supposed to say that he's investigating into some grid drama? That he's trying to understand what happened after Abu Dhabi, with you and Max? George has been ruled out as a player in this game, none of you are that close.

In London, you facetime your parents. They show you everything in their little villa that you rented out for them, the sandy beaches and the bright ocean. They tell you that they miss you and you repeat the sentiment. A part of you misses Max more, and you try to push that down.

Spencer orders pizza, and you both relax on the couch as you wait for it to arrive. They make a noise, a bit contemplative but unsurprised, and you look up from your own phone. Spencer's looking at you with a wolfish grin. "Oh, no."

"Have you seen this?" Their voice is teasing as they hand you their phone. It's opened to a post on the F1 Instagram account, the caption reads: Celebrating Max's 4th WDC with pictures of the best friendship on the grid 🏆. You gape slightly at the first picture; it's of you and Max in Zandvoort '23 on the podium. You both have bright smiles, your focus is on drenching Max with your champagne. He's laughing, accepting the spray. You don't bother to look at the rest, a sick feeling building in your stomach that you've begun to associate with Max. You know what it means, but you can't acknowledge it now. You haven't talked in over 2 weeks.

The pizza arrives and Spencer makes you pay. You can't get yourself to eat a lot, too stuck in your mind to acknowledge your hunger. When you lay in bed later that night, you feel sick. You know it's not the food, you know what it is. In the back of your mind you wonder if you'll ever be able to accept your feelings or if you'll just have to get over it.

lando norris has made a groupchat

monaco dinner 😁😁 (alex albon, george russell, max 🏆, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, you)

lando norris

alright everyone. need to know when you're all returning to monaco

"You're up to something," Oscar says from beside Lando. Lando raises a brow, a teasing grin on his lips. "Whatever do you mean, Osc?" His teammate rolls his eyes before scanning the table, landing at the empty seat next to George. Everyone is here, except you. Lando pretended he got a text from you saying that you'd be late, when in reality that's not the case. He told you the reservation was for twenty minutes later than he told everyone else. His plan needed to work and he didn't want you arriving earlier than intended.

"Y/n, someone who is always scared of coming late they come fifteen minutes early, isn't here. I'm assuming you have nothing to do with this?" Lando's grin grows wider. "Mate."

"Just wait."

You arrive at the restaurant 5 minutes early, since you had to walk and that led you to being noticed by some fans. When you go up to reception and say who you'll be sitting with, the host raises a brow before directing you to a table in the far back of the restaurant. Everyone is already there, drinks on the table. Worried, you look at your watch to see it isn't even the time Lando sent. You're early.

The only seat open is at the end of the table, to the right of George. It's also right across from Max. He looks surprised to see you, putting away his phone as you sit down. George says hi and asks you how your break has been so far. You make pleasant, friendly conversation with him. When Charles asks you a question you turn your attention to him, and notice that Max's mood has visibly soured. He must notice you looking, because he inserts himself into Alex and Carlos' conversation. You bite your cheek, trying not to seem annoyed or disappointed. You still haven't talked, and it's been seven weeks. He's liked your posts; the one from your trip to London, a set of gym photos your team took, and your photos from your other trip. No comments, just likes.

He doesn't talk to you for the rest of the dinner, instead he watches you make conversation with your other drivers. You stumble over your words, make mistakes and try to laugh it off. It's nice to talk to them, it just requires more energy. With Max, you don't have to worry about your never-ending rambling or your stories that tend to not make sense. It's easy. You miss it.

Dinner ends, you all split the check and go your separate ways. After getting your card back you head to the bathroom, just standing in silence for a few seconds. You need a break, especially if you run into some fans on your way home. The more you talk and force your brain to try, the more exhausted you get. The easier it is to snap or say something completely wrong. No one deserves to be on the receiving end of that.

You scrub your hands over your face, trying to wake yourself up. In your pocket your phone buzzes once. Then twice.

max 🏆

Are you still here?

I didn't see you leave.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you make yourself type slowly. Your hands are shaking. You need to get a grip.

you

yeah, haven't left yet

you're still here then?

max 🏆

Yep. Meet you at the entrance?

you

sure

As you leave the bathroom your brain has fired up again, what the fuck, repeating in your head consistently. Because, what the fuck? Why has Max all of a sudden decided to talk to you? What changed his mind?

He's standing in the waiting area, his plain white t-shirt covered by a jacket you recognize from the Alphatauri website. The corner of your lip twitches, as you fight back a smile. He's so predictable.

"Hey." His voice is quiet, like he was scared that you were lying. Like you'd hide in the bathroom till he left. Even though you're mad at him, you can't see yourself doing that, ever.

"Hi. Um, nice break so far? We haven't talked a lot," You let out an awkward laugh, cringing internally. Why did you bring that up? And in the first sentence too?

"I'm sorry about that, I've been busy," Max's smile is weak and your heart deflates a bit because you know when he's lying. He doesn't do it often, so it's easy to tell. "I meant to text you, really." But that isn't a lie. Huh. You stare at him for a second trying to make sense of what's going on.

"Did you drive here?"

"No, didn't have time to get gas. I mean— I did, I just forgot because I've been doing other stuff." Max smiles and everything feels almost normal again. The seven weeks of silence still looms over the conversation, like it's preparing to end your friendship forever. "I'll drive you. You didn't move, right?" He has a smile on his face, the one when he's trying to be funny. You feel that sick feeling building, and your skin warms.

"No, I should though. Apparently my neighbor almost set the complex on fire, and the one across from me she— she did something weird, I can't remember. But I know it caused a meeting for the building about some policy and everyone was really mad at her," You ramble, voice picking up as you get that giddy feeling, when you know you're really being listened to. Max leads you to his car and you get into the passenger seat. On the drive to your building, you finally remember the reason why your neighbor got in trouble.

"She got in trouble because she had sex on her balcony or something, and then someone saw and reported it. Holy shit, I can't believe I forgot that!" You laugh, face scrunching with your smile.

"Your neighbor?"

"Yes!" It feels really good to talk to Max again, to feel a true connection when you talk to him.

lando norris

hey mate

how's y/n?

max

Good?

Do you not have her number?

lando norris

no haha sorry

thought you guys were dating

things seemed off just wanted to make sure

max

Right.

We're fine

lando norris

but not dating? (max has reacted with 👍)

Everything has been good with Max. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders now that you can talk to him again. You flew with him to Bahrain and now Australia. Media day is tomorrow, and Lando has texted you asking if you want to go explore, like neither of you have ever been to Melbourne. You say yes, anyway.

You're in the elevator going down to the lobby, when it stops at another floor. George is standing on the other side of the doors, and he smiles at you as he walks in. "Hanging out with Max?" He asks as the doors slide shut.

"No, Lando invited me out. He said he wanted to explore, which I don't really understand because he's been to Melbourne multiple times. Also, Oscar's his teammate so, I don't—," You stop yourself. "It'll probably be fun though, it's Lando."

"Lando invited you out?"

"Uh— Yeah? Why?"

"He invited me out as well, that's all." Oh.

Is he trying to set you and George up? The thought hits you like a truck and your nose scrunches up involuntarily. First, the questions about his Instagram and then making you sit next to him at dinner. You feel warm, anger building inside you. Is Lando oblivious?

↳ user since when are they friends????

↳ user you left out the part that lando was with them 💀

You and George walk back together, an awkward silence hanging over you. It was a fun day. You took pictures, ate good food. You had fun. It was just awkward because it seemed both you and George knew what Lando was trying to do.

You're waiting for the elevator when George turns toward you. You shift your eyes toward him, trying to make sense about what he's about to do. "Do you like me?"

Your eyes widen and for a moment all you can do is stare at George. "No, I— I don't know where Lando got the idea that I like you, but I don't." You're trying to be nice in case George does actually like you, but he lets out a breath of relief.

"I'm really sorry, Lando is..."

"He's Lando, I know." The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You both walk in and George hits the button for your floors. "You do like Max though, right?" Once again you find yourself speechless. George laughs, cheeks turning red.

"Sorry, it's— It's really obvious, I don't know how Lando missed it." You're burning with embarrassment when you look away from George and mutter, "It's not that obvious." He cracks up, and you feel yourself growing warmer.

Thankfully for you, George gets off soon enough and it's just you. When you step off the elevator, you notice someone leaning against the wall by your door, scrolling on their phone. They look up when you come to a stop. It's Max, in another plain t-shirt and skinny jeans. You may hate the skinny jeans but they really show off his thighs, so it's not that bad. "Hi."

Max walks over to you, stopping so there's only a few inches between you. You can smell his cologne, see how blue his eyes are, and how his hair is a little out of place. He opens his mouth to speak but you speak before he can. "You look good, I mean—," You cut yourself off to prevent the inevitable ramble about how good he looks; your friends have heard it numerous times. Max blinks, the beginning of a smile on his face before he leans in and kisses you.

You make a little noise in surprise before you reciprocate, you reach for him blindly, grabbing onto his shoulder. It's easy kissing Max. You've been waiting for this, the soft press of his lips against yours, the heat of his hand against your face. The same sick feeling rests in your stomach, and you feel it; the way your heart speeds up when he's near and the hot flush that builds on your skin when he touches you. You never want it to end.

yourusername close friends story

[caption: @.maxverstappen1 🤍]

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lando OMG DID IT FINALLY HAPPEN??

yourusername yes...? lando oh thank god my plan worked i was so close to locking you two in a closet yourusername HUH????

[chuellas]

Fine Line | Chuuya is always overworking himself, always choosing work over you and you’re finally fed up with it.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, term “doll” used, a tiny itty bit suggestive if you squint, hardly edited, WC: 5k

A/N | I had no idea where I was going with this one when writing it but I had so much fun writing it

You’re sitting at the bar now. You moved from your reserved table after an hour of waiting, figuring it could go to a couple that actually planned on spending the evening together. You let out another sigh into your gin and tonic. You’ve been at this restaurant for about 2 hours now and haven’t eaten a single thing. It’s your date’s fault, really, they were the one that never showed up. You don’t know why you even try anymore. Dating was pointless in your line of work anyways. 

But sometimes going on dates warded off the loneliness and that incessant craving you get for normalcy.

You check your watch for the time only to find it’s now past midnight. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you finally make the decision to pull out your phone and call the person you actually wanted to spend the evening with. You're pleasantly surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“Thought you had a date.” You’re greeted with a tone that’s laced with exhaustion but something else jumps out too — annoyance, maybe? Or maybe you’re just imagining things after downing your third drink of the night on an empty stomach.  

You hum, pointedly not answering his question directly, as you signal for the bartender to close out your tab. “You still in your office working on that mountain of paperwork?”

The pause from the otherside of the phone is a long one, it’s a contemplative pause you conclude, you can tell he’s trying to decide whether to humor you or to push his own question. It would be a waste of his time to go with the latter, you had no intention of breaching the topic of you being stood up yet again. This time especially stung with it being a woman and all. You thought she would have known better, or at the very least have the common decency to warn you of her impending absence, knowing very well how long it takes to get ready for a first date. You shaved and took an “everything” shower for this occasion.

A soft sigh of defeat is heard from his side and you grin widely, Chuuya is much smarter than he’s given credit for. “So what if I am?”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” You don’t give the executive room to argue as you hang up on him. 

As if on cue the bartender brings you the receipt and your card, after signing you leave a generous amount of cash in the tip jar with a smile. You leave the restaurant the same way you came, without a word as the manager babbles on about how much of a pleasure it was to have your patronage. You wave him off with the same smile that’s feeling more forced by the minute as you step into the elevator.

When the doors slide shut after what seems like an eternity, you’re finally able to relax for a moment. The disappointment of another wasted night sinks into your shoulder, making them cave in. You deflate in defeat, having to resign to a fate that’s been set by some stupid carrot topped man that has to use his ability to reach the top shelf of overhang shelves. He’d never admit it but you’ve actually caught him doing it before. 

This was all somehow Chuuya’s fault. If he ever did anything other than work you wouldn’t seek solace in other people. You would be able to let yourself actually explore the feelings that stir in your chest when you’re around the ginger. But instead you’re stuck calling him after failed dates to see what he’s up to and if you can get away with bugging him. 

Headquarters is just a few blocks north of where you’re at, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to get to Chuuya. Well, maybe 20 since your favorite ramen place is on the way and you know they’re still open. So you have to stop there for two bowls because not only have you not eaten but you know Chuuya probably hasn’t either, being too engrossed in his paperwork to remember that basic bodily functions exist. 

Another 5 minutes after picking up the ramen and you’re making your way up yet another elevator to the floor that holds both your office on one side and his on the other. You take a moment when the doors open to decide whether you want to go straight to Chuuya’s office or if you want to stop at yours to change into something far more comfortable than the dress you’re currently wearing. Your stomach ultimately makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. The ginger’s office it is.

You don’t even bother with knocking, too tired, hungry, and impatient to wait on him to answer. The door creaks as you push and then groans out a complaint when you kick it shut behind you. Chuuya isn’t even fazed when you enter, his nose still buried in his paperwork. Thankfully the pile was no longer a mountain, more of a small hill now. It still looks like an hour or two’s worth of work. You’d offer your help if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure you’re drunk. 

Making yourself comfortable without a word you saunter over to his desk and choose to sit yourself on top of his scattered paperwork, plopping the ramen in front of him.  

Chuuya freezes, staring at the bag of food in disbelief before turning his accusing glare at you. “What the f-”

His words die in his throat when his eyes finally land on you. Even in your slightly, maybe more, inebriated state it’s hard not to notice the way his eyelids droop as his dual colored eyes scan your figure. He must be really tired, he’s usually far more tactful when he checks you out. 

You swing your legs where they dangle from his desk, pleased with yourself and his reaction. “I brought you some dinner. I didn’t get a chance to eat so I figured neither have you. Looks like I was right!”

Chuuya has to practically tear his gaze from you to see what you’re talking about. You untie the bag to reveal two containers filled to the brim with ramen. You lean in to read the labels to make sure you were taking the right container but in the process it gives the executive a nice view right down our cleavage. You have to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch at your lips when you hear the way his breath stutters. Maybe now you’re the one not being tactful but you figure someone deserves to appreciate the way you look in this dress since the intended party will never get to. 

“You stop at that shop down the road?” Chuuya clears his throat as he waits for you to grab all of your things before reaching for his own container.

You kick off your shoes and jump off his desk to pull a chair up to the opposite side. “Yeah, thankfully they stay open late. Can you clear some of the papers up? Don’t wanna get them stained in ramen broth.”

“Really makin’ yourself at home, aren’t you, Doll?” He raises a brow at you in amusement but clears his desk off regardless.

You hum and nod your head, too busy taking a bite of your ramen. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head and you let out a pleased hum at the flavors dancing along your tongue. The savory taste of the broth alone almost completely washes away the lingering bitter aftertaste the last few hours left in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you had stepped foot into that shop. Now you are famished and even the most bland of foods would taste absolutely divine in this moment. You’re so absorbed in your meal that you don’t even take notice of the way the ginger sitting before you is watching you so intently that he hasn’t even touched his own food. 

It’s not until he clears his throat that you peer up at him. “You’re eating like you’ve been starved, didn’t you have a date tonight?”

There’s that question again, you suppose you gave him too much credit earlier. He wasn’t smart enough to just let it go. Or maybe he really was just letting his curiosity get the best of him. Either way there was no way in hell you were going to tell him that another date bailed on you. So instead you smile sweetly.

“You know how small the portions are at those types of restaurants, I took like two bites and it was all gone. Had some drinks after too. So, yeah, I’m famished. I know you are too. Eat.”

Your tone leaves no room for question. You’re both dancing around touchy subjects. Chuuya knows if he wants to get you to admit what really happened he would have to swallow his pride and admit he was overworking himself and he'd be damned if he ever let that happen. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

You watch him through your lashes as he opens the ramen and takes a bite, and then another, and then another. He hardly ever eats when there’s work to be finished. This is definitely a rare occasion and you have a sneaky feeling, somehow during the few seconds of your exchange in challenging glances, something shifts between the two of you. 

You stare at the other executive absolutely gobbed smacked at the fact that he’s actually listening to you. Your eyes are wide, your jaw is dropped open, and the chopsticks you were using to eat fall from your fingertips and splash into your soup. A few drops from the broth fly into your eye and you let out a hiss at the sting from the spices and temperature. 

The moment the two of you just had ends just as swiftly as you fan at your eyes frantically and then hold out your hand to Chuuya. “Eye drops- Oh my god your eye drops. Now, Chuuya.”

The ginger is jolted from his stupor when your voice becomes sharper. He reaches into the drawer to his left and produces a small bottle of eye drops, something you knew he keeps around due to his frequent late nights burning the midnight oil. It’s how he keeps his eyes from getting dry with exhaustion. 

You snatch the small bottle from his hands and throw your head back to all but squirt the soothing solution into your eye. It takes a moment to work, the sensation getting worse before it gets better. But after a moment you’re good as new, maybe even better than before. 

It’s a truly sobering experience and any left over buzz you were holding onto sadly fizzles out. You’re now stone cold sober and kicking yourself for coming here this late, know the only outcome is getting sent away so the ginger could finish his work in peace. You’re nothing but a distraction to him.

But if that were true, why even let you into his office, his space, in the first place?

“Thanks…” You hand the medicine back to Chuuya and pick your chopsticks back up to continue eating, pretending like nothing happened. “So, how many nights in a row have you slept here this week?”

You tilt your head to the couch that has a head pillow and blanket set up on it — inviting, almost, if you didn’t know how incredibly uncomfortable that couch was. It couldn’t be good for his back. You know he already deals with the residual chronic muscle pain he experiences after using his ability, especially after using corruption. You wish he would slow down, his body already pays for his ability, it doesn’t need to suffer because of his excessive working habits too. 

But then you would just sound like a broken record. 

Chuuya never really listens. He’s stubborn that way and it’s not just his body that pays for it, his social and love life pay the price for it too. It’s frustrating to care so deeply for someone who would rather think of others and their work than their own wellbeing. 

What’s worse, though, is that you’re selfish. You’ll take the heated stares and intimate touches in the dead of night on the rare occasions he’s not spending them at his desk over nothing at all. Maybe it isn’t selfish, maybe it’s self-deprecating but you can’t help yourself. You’ve tried to move on — that’s what you were trying to do tonight. But the universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor, so you once again find yourself in his office during the devil’s hour.

Suddenly you hear a muffled voice and you’re thrusted back to reality. Chuuya looks at you expectantly and you furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“I said: I figure you wouldn’t be eating with me right now if your date went well, you’d be over at his place, right?”

Your eye twitches in irritation and not from the soup broth that landed in it just moments ago. He’s trying to evade your question. Of course he was actively avoiding it, why would he ever admit to you something that you don’t think he’s admitted to himself. 

What’s worse is he’s pushing his question from earlier. Wording it differently to mask his nagging curiosity. His gaze is hypnotizing, something shifts again. You don’t think you care for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. The usually light and exciting flutter of their wings now feel like razors slicing their way up your throat. It burns and you might throw up.

It’s so unfair, the way he makes you feel is unfair.

You don’t know what possesses you but a single syllable flies past your lips in response before you can catch it. “Her.”

“Her?” And this man has the audacity to look semi-amused as he says the word back to you in a questioning tone. 

In that moment you know he knows and you watch in abject horror as his amused expression twists into a knowing one. Now you’re sure, he’s aware that you know he knows. 

Your eye almost twitches again at the way his brow raises in amusement at your answer and suddenly you feel defensive. You don’t give a shit if he knows what you’re trying to do by dating around. You don’t care if he knows that each attempt has ended in failure. You don’t care that he knows that each failure ends in you crawling back to him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

You steel your expression, eyes becoming sharp as they bore into Chuuya. “Yeah, it was supposed to be a woman I was meeting tonight.”

“Well she’s an idiot for not showing, especially when you look like that.” His tone sounds sincere and it makes you want to throw up.

You let out an incredulous scoff — you can’t believe that he just said that, of all people. “She’s not the only idiot.”

“She’s not?”

Now he’s really starting to piss you off, his smug expression tells you all you need to know. This must all be a game to him. He’s toying with you, he has to be, and he has been for a while now but you’re finally sick of it. You’re tired of the constant back and forth but not getting anywhere because he would rather stubbornly overwork himself half to death to have an excuse to avoid you than admit his obvious feelings for you. 

The revelation sends your whole body into a fit, you’re trembling and seething and it’s pouring out the seams. You’ve cracked. You should congratulate him, really, no one has elicited this much emotion from you before.

Chuuya’s demeanor changes when he notices how worked up you seem to be getting but he’s too late. You’re already past the point of being settled down because you’re shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. Your nostrils flare in irritation and ears flush in anger. 

“No, she’s not the only idiot that’s managed to fumble me. Look in a mirror and you’ll know who the other person is. Enjoy overworking yourself to death. I’m going home.” 

All at once the blazing rage that washed over you burns out when Chuuya makes no indication of moving to stop you and immediately you wish the ground would just crack open to swallow you whole. Suddenly you’re all too aware of your response to his play. It was more of an overreaction. How embarrassing? How is it that he’s able to elicit this strong of a reaction from you. 

How can he not follow after you like he has better things to do?

But he does have more important things to do than console you, doesn’t he?

For the second time tonight you’re mortified, but unlike earlier, this one was your own doing. You just threw a fit, had an actual tantrum, over someone who has made it clear he’s not ready for something that you think you are.

Maybe selfish is the right word.

You contemplate halting in your spot and apologizing but your pride keeps you from doing so. You should have never put all your cards on the table. You curse yourself for ever letting your true feeling for the ginger slip that one drunken night several months ago that when asked about the next day you had conveniently forgotten all about it. Something tells you that he remembered it clearly, so, if not stopping you was his final response to your confession then you have to accept that. 

Your hand reaches out for the door knob and you almost flinch when it comes in contact with the cold metal. He’s really just going to let you leave like this. Your head is a mess— no, your whole body is a mess. Your head is filled with fog, a mist of endless thoughts descending on you to make everything blurry. Your chest is like a tsunami of emotions washing over you in sharp waves. Then there are those damn razor sharp butterflies that are still threatening to claw up your throat. 

But just as you start to turn the knob, a gloved hand covers your own and halts your actions. Your breath hitches when the anxiety you’d been feeling just a moment ago completely dissipates. Chuuyas chest is pressed against your back and his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Chuuya wha-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish your question when he mumbles out, “I don’t need a mirror to know that…”

Oh. 

Is he really implying that he knows he’s been a fool? Is the world coming to an end? Chuuya? Admitting to being an idiot? You thought there was a higher chance of getting struck by lightning before hearing anything of the sort from the executive himself. 

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, you think your brain’s been fried, convinced that Chuuya can see the steam rolling out of your ears as you short circuit. “For what?”

You croak out the short question, words catching in your throat. It surprises even you when a sob follows. You hadn’t realized that the emotions you were feeling hadn’t dissipated but instead had been forced out in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“I…I’m sorry for…” Chuuya trails off and curses under his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry for not putting you first.” 

His voice trembles in something akin to fear. Something in your chest tears at his tone and it hurts. You look up at the ceiling to try to blink away the water that’s blurred your vision and take in a sharp breath after getting winded from the sudden blow. Your hand finally falls from the door knob and you both stand there in silence. The only noise is the grandfather clock that stands tall on the far end of his office, if it wasn’t for the loud ticking, everything would feel frozen. Something about the silence on your part is agonizing, you want to respond, but your voice is caught in your throat, swallowed dryly as you try to wet the dry patches stinging the lining of your esophagus.

Funny how your eyes feel too wet while your throat is too dry. 

You try to take a few breaths to calm yourself down enough to speak but you can feel the impatience radiating off of Chuuya and it just makes you even more anxious. It almost physically pains you but you take a step away from the ginger and stride across the room to an open window. Fresh air, something you always appreciated about Chuuya is that he prefers open windows and fresh air to fans or air conditioning if he can help it. The executive doesn’t follow, he hasn’t even moved from his spot. His head is still drooped down from where it was resting on your shoulder and suddenly your mouth and throat flood with saliva. That familiar feeling of nausea hitting you like a freight train once again.

You clear your throat to speak but realize -- how the hell do you respond to that? Are you really upset with Chuuya? Yes. Are you upset with yourself for letting things go this far? Also yes. So, as much as you want to blame all of this on the gravity manipulator, you can’t. 

Your shoulders slump and your gaze stays glued to the twinkling city lights in the skyline as you finally speak. “You always chose work. Always.”

Chuuya looks up at that. Your words seemingly hit a nerve as irritation flashes across his face before he can contain it. You bristle at that, preparing for an argument. You’re exhausted and don’t want to argue but you will if you have to because although you know you’re at fault too, you’re not going to just let this asshole get away with his part in all of this.

Luckily, the ginger simmers down easily and slumps again, showing you how truly exhausted he is. “That’s not entirely true, I chose you…Sometimes….”

“You think I should be grateful for that? You only chose me instead of work ‘sometimes’ to make yourself feel better about stringing me along.” You’re not looking at him when you speak, too interested with the view, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.  “Or to get your mind off of work. I was just an escape to you. Nothing more.” 

This time you don’t have to look back at him to feel the frustration radiating off of him in a similar way gravity manipulation does when he activates it. It’s hot, his frustration, you imagine if you reached out there was a chance you’d get burned. It’s rare to witness Chuuya losing his cool like this, the only other person besides yourself that could get him riled up like this long gone from the organization. Thinking about him makes you even more bitter so you take another stab at Chuuya.

“You certainly put on a convincing act, though. So congrats for that I guess.”

Snap. 

You imagine that’s the sound that would’ve been made when Chuuya’s patience finally breaks. His steps are heavy and you almost think he’s activated his ability. You almost forget how fast he is because you barely have time to turn around before he’s got a firm grip on your face. His hold is unrelenting as he forces you to look at him. 

Chuuya looks like a wreck, so many emotions written all over his face but most of all he’s hurt by your words. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be lashing out at him like this but a part of you is pleased that he looks just as devastated as you feel. This is not your proudest moment by far and you’re sure you’ll feel ashamed over it later. Right now, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty in the slightest. You said what you said and you're going to say it with your whole chest.

A shaky breath is let out by the executive standing before you. “That’s unfair. You’re being unfair.”

There’s no way this man is accusing you of being the unfair one here.

“You were unfair to me first. I’m tired. Be straight with me or just leave me alone, Chuuya.” Any fight you had in you moments ago vanishes as you finally give up.

Chuuya’s reaction shows you that he sees it, the way you’re letting him hold all the cards in this, making this his decision, the final one when it comes to this situationship. You’re done, you’re tired and now you just want this shitty night to be over with. If you had a white piece of fabric on you, you’d wave it like a flag, surrendering completely. 

He’s not good with his words, Chuuya has never been as articulate as some of the others, but he is good with actions. His actions have always spoken volumes for him, so why wouldn’t that work for him now? The executive pulls you in and crashes his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to convey to you what he couldn’t speak.

You’re a little slow on the uptake as your brow furrows and you attempt to pull away. You look at him incredulously but the expression he’s making has you halting altogether. His eyes are screwed shut and his brows furrowed in concentration and maybe a little bit in fear by the way you can feel his lips and hands slightly trembling against your face. It clicks then.

Chuuya Nakahara is finally choosing you over his work. 

This was him telling you in his own way that he’s not letting you give up like you wanted to. And if you can claim to know anything about Chuuya, it’s that he always makes good on a promise. That’s what has you melting into his hold and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

You both stay like that for a long while and you feel like Chuuya is trying to devour you whole in this one single kiss. As if he’s scared that if he doesn’t, you’ll slip from his grasp forever, but that would be impossible with the way he’s holding onto you for dear life. Even if you wanted to, which in this moment you didn’t, you couldn’t escape him. But you do need to pull away for air though. You shift your face the best you can away from his and even though he tries to chase your lips, you manage to separate from him.

You instantly bring your hands up to his wrist and nuzzle your face into his hands, showing him you still have no plans of going anywhere. The tension in his body dissipates and he watches you closely, patiently waiting for your response. As if you kissing him back wasn’t enough. 

“You piss me off, y’know that?” Chuuya lets out a chuckle at your statement and leans in to rest his forehead on yours.

His eyes bore into yours and there’s something there that you’ve never seen before, a sort of adoration you think he’s been holding back for a long time now. “Yeah, I have a confession to make that might piss you off even more…”

You stiffen in anticipation for the worst, staring up at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. What was it now? You wrack your brain thinking about what he could possibly still be holding back. All you wanted was to know where you stood with him and now you do. So what else would he be hiding from you?

“It’s, uhh…Well it has to do with your date tonight, and maybe all of the other first dates that stood you up…” The look on your face must tell him that you’re picking up on where this is going and his grip on you tightens once again. “It was fucked up of me, I know. I’ll- I’ll make it up to you…I’ll take you out on two dates for each first date I ruined.”

Oh. 

You can’t even really find it in yourself to be that upset. It clears up a lot of inconsistencies for you. You have full confidence in your personality and looks, so it wasn’t adding up why you were being stood up so much. Even with you being a part of the upper echelon of the Port Mafia, that’s not public information. So, intimidation was ruled out too. You are becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of it all.

Maybe you should find it in yourself to be more upset about this…

Your expression displays just how unconvinced you are by his words, Chuuya can clearly see it and sense it so he tacks on some extra sweet talking to sooth your overthinking. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for anyways.”

Your previous statement of Chuuya not being very good with his words is a lie. You were lying. The simple statement is enough to have you melting into him again. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe you’re just that down bad for him. Or maybe it’s all of the above. Who knows (you do).

Either way you find yourself giving in again for hopefully the last time tonight, but not before you decide to add a condition for your own benefit. “...Fine. But any trip or out of town get away counts as only one date.”

“Don’tcha think you’re getting greedy now, Doll?” Chuuya lets out another chuckle, shaking his head a little.

You shrug with a soft grin on your lips. “No, you owe me. Plus, it’s like you said, got a lot of time to make up for.”

[y0ur-lovrr]

-Some comfort.

A/n: Hi!! This is my first written piece and I’m sorry if it’s bad lol, any tips to write better is appreciated! <3

-no use of y/n, cs I hate that personally. I’m new to the tumblr thing so i apologize if it’s bad. Gn!reader, I don’t think I put any specific pronouns into this, but then again I didn’t proofread it, so apologies in advance.

Pairing- Chishiya shuntarou x reader <3

—“Seems like we’ve lost our partner.”

Chishiya hums,his voice calm and smooth as it always is,but you can catch the small clear glimpse of disappointment in it.

“You were too kind for a game like this, ippei.” He mumbles under his breath, staring at the body of his now dead partner on the floor of his solitary confinement cell, his head exploded off from the collar-blood all over the place. But because of his experience of being a med student, the blood didn’t really bother him-like anything bothered him, really. He was always as calm as a swimming pool.

But for you it was different. It bothered you-a whole lot. Throughout this stupid game you had grown to like ippei, having the thought that he would make it out of this game, like you and chishiya. But he didn’t.

Sniffles coming from chishiya’s side caught his attention, letting out a small hum and turning his head to look at you, hands casually shoved into the pockets of his white jacket.

There you stood beside him, eyes staring down at the scene in front of you, chest lightly heaving as your eyes are already tear filled, your bottom lip trembling as you try to not let any tears fall. His eyes analyze you, watching thoughtfully as he sees the way your fingers twitch at your sides, your eyes slightly wide and pupils slightly dilated. Clearly on the verge of having a breakdown, about to turn into a sobbing mess.

Everything sounds like it’s underwater in your ears, the voices of the other players down the hall are muffled, along with the sound of your breathing, for once even your thoughts are silent. Not even realizing how tears start to stream down your cheeks, unable to tear your eyes away from the body on the floor-the sight of his blood making you feel sick. You couldn’t help it..you knew that ippei killed himself cause he didn’t want to play anymore.

He truly was too sweet for this messed up place, you and chishiya both knew that.

“It’s unfortunate, I know.” Chishiya mumbles as he looks at you, shifting his feet to face you, slightly raising an eyebrow as you don’t move. He’s actually starting to grow concerned about you, he knew you’d cry-but not break like this, it was almost unnerving how you were just standing there.

He says your name, not once, but twice, but it’s as if you couldn’t hear him. It’s only when he lightly grasps onto your shoulder that you turn to look at him, sputtering out a ‘huh?’.

Before he can get a word out you cut him off with a small sob, your hands lifting to wipe your tears, you didn’t like crying, he knew that. He couldn’t help but notice how hard your hands were being with your face, wiping the flowing tears so hard that your cheeks are starting to turn red from the constant touching.

“I-I thought we had it under control…I thought we were all getting out of here together—“ you mutter out to chishiya between sniffles, your body starting to slightly tremble as you try to comfort yourself by wrapping one of your arms around your abdomen while the other continues to stay wiping your cheeks.

He doesn’t let you say another word, unusually bringing a hand out to you and placing it on your shoulder in a soothing manner, trying to be comforting to you. And it was working, honestly.

“He was too kind for this game, but we still have eachother, right?” He hums, just letting you cry, watching as you nod your head in reply, mumbling under your breath. He couldn’t understand your mumbling, but he doesn’t mention it.

To be honest, this was a little heartbreaking to watch. To him, you were too kind for this world to, just like ippei, even though it hasn’t screwed you over yet. He didn’t want it to either. You were too nice, too pure, too kind. He saw how you comforted other players during the game, or another game he met you in a while ago-a spades one to be exact. The same one he met Arisu, tag.

He saw how you dove towards someone else to save them from the tagger and their gun, almost getting yourself killed in the process-but the grin you flashed the lady made it worth it to you. But this was your breaking point, it seems. But he can’t blame you, who knows the amount of people you’ve seen die in these games.

“We’ll get through this. We’re smart aren’t we?” He says with a slight smirk, but it falters slightly as he sees it doesn’t work on you like it has before.

“For ippei?” He draws on, slightly raising an eyebrow at you, and huffs out a breath as he watched you lift your head and nod your head, mumbling back, finally getting your breath back.“For ippei..”

He then just lift his hand to your hair and lightly ruffles it and places it back on your shoulder, guiding you away from the scene. And you let him, knowing you both would protect eachother from now on, you both wanting to get out of this game.

[dulcescorderitas]

hiiiii! i hope you’re doing great 🩷 i was wondering if u could write about dean and/or winchester (it could be romantic or platonically), and reader, despite being a highly skilled hunter as them, she/he/them have a extensive skincare routine 🧖🏿‍♀️ and tons of products and also has candles 🕯️ to aromatize whatever hotel room they’re staying in? maybe i’m a little biased bc it’s something i would def do lol 💅🏿 of course it’s up to u to write it or not xx

author's note: hope you like it!

the tiny hotel room buzzed with its usual chaos—sam hammering at his laptop, dean fiddling with the radio until static gave way to a gravelly classic rock station. you, meanwhile, had claimed the bed nearest the window, methodically unpacking your arsenal of serums, creams, and candles from a sleek black case. the clash of your indulgent habits with the winchesters’ bare-bones lifestyle was a contradiction you’d long since stopped noticing, but tonight, it seemed to hold their attention.

“are we setting up a séance, or did bath & body works have a blowout sale?” dean asked, smirking as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his leather jacket.

sam glanced up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow but wisely staying silent.

“keep it up,” you deadpanned, lighting a lavender candle with a practiced flick of your lighter. “i can always start charging you both for the free aromatherapy.”

the soft glow spilled across the scratched furniture and faded wallpaper, the soothing scent instantly cutting through the motel musk. dean’s smirk lingered, though his nose wrinkled faintly when you spritzed rose water over your face.

“you’re telling me you haul this crap around on every hunt?” he asked, waving at the array of tiny jars and bottles now lined up on the nightstand.

“it’s called self-care, dean,” you replied without missing a beat. “you should try it sometime. your skin looks like it’s fighting for its life.”

“she’s not wrong,” sam chimed in, earning a glare from his brother. “and for the record, the room already smells better.”

“traitor,” dean muttered, but his eyes drifted back to the candle, then the jade roller you’d just pulled out. “what the hell is that thing?”

“a jade roller,” you said, voice deliberately sweet. “it helps with lymphatic drainage.”

“sounds fake,” he grumbled, though his gaze didn’t waver.

you took your time, smoothing a honey-oat cleansing balm over your skin with deliberate, indulgent motions. sam watched with barely-concealed interest, while dean lounged on the bed’s edge, boots off but still visibly torn between curiosity and skepticism.

“so what, all this actually works?” dean asked, the words reluctant but edged with intrigue.

“why? you want to try?” you baited, not looking up.

“hell no,” he said immediately, but his resolve was already cracking. sam, ever the voice of reason, set his laptop aside.

“i mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? maybe we wouldn’t look like we’ve been living out of a car for a decade.”

dean groaned, but he didn’t argue when you tossed a washcloth at him. “fine,” you said, grinning as sam caught the second one. “sit your asses down, and let me show you how it’s done.”

sam caved first, obediently following your instructions as you handed him a bottle of cleanser. dean stayed where he was, arms crossed, until you pointedly ignored him in favor of complimenting sam’s technique.

“all right, fine,” he huffed, shuffling over. “hit me with your witch potions or whatever. but if i break out, you’re paying for it.”

“deal,” you said, fighting back a laugh as you handed him the balm. “start with this. rub it in—don’t forget your neck.”

watching dean winchester awkwardly smear product across his face was a moment you’d treasure forever. sam, already mid-toner, stifled a laugh. “you’re doing great, dean.”

“shut up,” dean muttered, his tone lacking any real heat. the faint twitch of a smile betrayed him.

by the time you broke out the sheet masks, all three of you were seated on the beds, faces glistening under the candlelight. the room smelled like lavender and chamomile, its usual harshness replaced with warmth and calm. dean grumbled about how “fucking weird” the mask felt, but he didn’t take it off. sam, predictably, leaned into the experience, asking questions about ingredients until dean threw a pillow at him.

“admit it,” you teased, leaning back with a smug grin. “you feel better.”

neither of them answered, but the way dean’s shoulders relaxed and sam’s lips curved into a rare, soft smile told you everything you needed to know.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[hugemilkshake]

Can you write head cannons w a platonic yandere burning spice x reader who keeps running away

(It’s fine if not tho ^^)

Enjoy the milkshake! This is basically going to be general headcannons since why not and also does anyone know what place he lives in is called??? Is it a temple or a palace???? Like what is it???

Yandere Burning Spice

-platonic-

!TW! Under the cut are things like implied kidnapping and forcing to fight until exhaustion 

“How strong are you?”

Those are the first words you hear come out of Burning Spices mouth

It doesn’t matter what you answer, the next response is “Show me.”

Now it doesn’t matter how strong you happen to be, wether you have been training all your life or just picked up a weapon, you will lose.

Your probably injured severely, I mean, that’s going to happen when you fight someone who could easily wipe out a nation with a single wave of a hand.

Usually battles like this end with a cookie crumbled. But wether it be the fact that Burning Spice just was released from his prison or that you survived was… intriguing

Originally you were going to be left to die from your injuries but instead he took you back to his palace and ordered some of the spice swarm to tend to you

That includes food, a room to sleep in and medical care. If your confused, so is Burning Spice.

He’s probably more confused than you. He found a random cookie, fought them and took them home. It was the first thing he did when he returned. How odd.

Now in a pretty quick amount of time, his perception on you changes. At first, he just thought you were a weak cookie he took pity on, but now? He sees potential.

What’s better than one destroyer? Two.

You start getting trained, it’s easy at first, like how to hold a battle axe and how strong you have to be to destroy a boulder-

What do you mean you can’t destroy a boulder?

Burning Spice realizes that your… not that strong…

His training gets more intense. He pushes you to the point of near exhaustion, but your improving bit by bit!

Now to be fair, you’re treated pretty well besides training sessions, like you have almost anything you can want! You get amazing meals!

But to you, the training is too much, you miss your friends, you want to leave.

You’d think Burning Spice would be mad, but he encourages running away, it’s an extra form of training! The issue come when he can’t find you again.

Your training is not complete yet! You aren’t strong enough!

When he finds you, it’s mixed. He’s furious, but also relieved. When you get back to the palace he gets you some food and makes sure your settled in alright

Which is very strange.

Was he going soft? I mean that would be nice if he lossened up on your training, you find yourself actually talking to him like he’s an actual mentor! It’s nice.

But the mood shifts when your told to go get your gear. It’s more serious, but it’s going to be a normal training session right?

Right..?

This was the most brutal training session ever. Your dough was cracking and you were losing your consciousness. You didn’t even know how long you’d been training for but this session was longer than usual

You swore you were coughing up jam.

Burning Spice on the other hand he was conflicted, while seeing you in this much pain was enjoyable, it was also difficult to see you in pain.

But this was all for training, it was so you can improve, you were going to become stronger, you were going to be his apprentice…

No…

You ARE his apprentice.

It doesn’t matter how exhausted you are, he was going to mold you into an exact copy of himself.

That was what was going to happen if it weren’t for that pesky bird.

[thatbitchery]

ARGUING / CONFRONTATION 101: HOW TO NOT 'GET OWNED' OR 'GET CAUGHT' IN ALTERCRATIONS.

Little miss don't read How To posts over here

For starters I hope by now you know people do not argue to exchange ideas they argue to measure deek size and find out who is the alpha. Its neverrrr about what's right its about WHO is right. My go to is just don't get caught in one? But sometimes you do sometimes you can't not. In my usual chaotic way I'll just dump everything I know you figure it out by yourself.

Let's take hypothetical situation- you got caught in a lie. Because I refuse to believe a fully grown woman will be caught in a push and pull about opinions I refuse to accept that. You're past 16 grow up. The way people work is the easiest way to establish power is to publicly disempower someone. What Candace Owens did. You find someone with power (and everyone has power) , you disempower them publicly you take some of that power. Because power is transferred not created. so people constantly try to find faults in others and when they find one BINGO they got you BUT. BUT. You see that thing Keke Palmer did with Usher and her baby sperm donor? That's power. That's refusing of letting go of that power. That's what I want to teach you, how to not get owned. (PS, I looooooove liars but don't lie if you don't have to, and I'll teach y'all how to lie so you stop sabotaging yourself). SO I caught you in a lie. I make a public show of 'calling you out' on it. Fully expecting you to stand up for yourself by going into defence so I can actuallyown you and in a sweeet sweeeet sweeet public play that will make me the big dog and you just a pathetic lying little bitch. Remember when I told you I'll teach you how to people???????? MOOOOOOOOTHHHHHHHHHERRRRRRR KNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOWWWWWWWWWWS BEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSST. First. Never. Ever. Ever. EVER. In your entire life. Jump into defense. Don't ever get defensive it's better to go down with your pride. Can you see a lion defending itself against a rabbit? Exactly. The politics of the jungle work like this- you're either prey or predator. In this survival game we call life- you NEVER . EVER. EVER. Want to signal you're prey. We don't run. We don't hide. We don't defense. Sometimes we really are prey but even then we play tactical defense. What do we do in our hypothetical situation here?

Exaggeration. This is my favorite go to ever. Its when you take the bait but in a way that makes them look bad. In a uh huh uh huh way. When there is no tangible evidence and it's your word against mine, whoever goes into offense / accuser will always have the upper hand because a) you can not prove a negative. Law girls will tell you you can not prove that you did *not*. Two offense is the power point and it's already taken so now you have to fall into defense. And defense is already powerlessness. By being accused, you've already lost. So you can take it, but too far that it loses meaning.

Example; I accuse you of say, sleeping with someone. You can't prove that you didn't. So I hit you with the oh I heard you spread your legs for x so you could get this. And you just- sigh. Lean back. Slap on your most bored face. Sip your coffee. Say yes actually I did. Him and his dad and your dad and my dad and triple orgy with the Oligarchs of Russia. We have tapes on the black market. Wait have you ever done ab Eiffel tower? X and your dad did it and I went all night then they gave me this Y thing that I'm obviously not smart enough or capable enough to get by myself because I'm obviously some dumb blond girl yes you're right Andrew can I work now or do you want it in writing. Yes you're right. And I'll fuck them all plus you if you want for this other thing I want that I'm again not smart or capable enough to get by myself as you can tell. Can I wear my earpods back. I need to visualize fucking Enhypen for a ticket, as a girl like me does. Is there anything else you want from me? Video essay?? My soul? What?

2. Yes. And? Yeah I did now what? Why? Because the power of accusing or argument is to make you look smaller and to make you ashamed. When you're not, the cards are reversed. Now they get to feel the shame. Same scenario - you slept with X for Y. So they make a scene about it. First, it doesn't matter of it's true no one cares about the truth. It's not about truth it's about power. You've been alive long enough for this. Soo it doesn't really matter if you did or didn't. So you sigh. Plug one side earpod off. Sip your coffee. Nod. Say nothing, give them the most blank stare ever. So you accept? You nod again. Look at your watch. Look at their forehead. Then neck. Then waistline. Then shoes. Then back to forehead. Then back to your watch. Then eyes. Then arch a brow. Say nothing else. Whatever they say, you nod. Let them trip over their words looking to make you feel guilty. Say nothing outside one word answers. Or simple nods. Actually no words, just nods. Cross your legs. At some point get your earpod back on and go back to work.

3. The whatever you say my guy tactic. The talking to a 9 year old tactic. The awww you little guy!! Tactic. The get them off their game tactic because people that come in accusation come with power, so making them look infantile takes it all away and they have to struggle to get it back. Same accusation, you go- in a soft voice, an awww voice - ah is that so? *Turn to your laptop* when was this? And I was in the room? Wait I was doing the hanky panky? Does he know about this? Oh, that sounds good I guess *sip your coffee* sorry, when exactly was this? Ahhh I see. Okay. So *pause, scroll a bit* sorry, where were we? Oh yeah. Yeah okay I guess. Is there anything else you needed cause I *look at them* wait sorry. What again?

[bamgyuuuri]

⤷ delicate ┈ cbg.

pairing. beomgyu x afab!reader . angst . moral dilemmas word count. 1.1k short note ... im supposed to be studying for exams tmr but ended up writing this drabble instead,, ;P i’ll actually get to the reqs sent to me once i finish finals i promise omg

all your friends despised beomgyu.

their hatred wasn’t casual, the kind born out of a passing annoyance or a small slight, no. it was deep, raw, and visceral, the kind of hatred that grew roots in every whispered conversation, every sharp glance, every cruel joke that lingered in the air long after it was said.

“he’s the worst kind of person,” one of your friends said one evening, her voice tight and bitter as she stabbed at her salad with her fork.

the group was seated in your favorite booth at the diner, the one you always shared late into the night, laughter echoing against the walls—except tonight was different. tonight, the atmosphere was tense, heavy. “he didn’t just lead her on. he used her.”

your other friends nodded, their agreement coming in muttered curses and sharp scoffs.

“what he did to her exactly?” another leaned forward, her voice dropping into an almost conspiratorial whisper, like the words were too vile to say out loud. 

“he led her on for months. months. and then just... disappeared. like she was nothing. like she didn’t even matter. god, if i ever see him again, i don’t know what i’d do.”

“honestly,” one of them said, turning to look directly at you, “i don’t get how you’re so calm about this. if i were you, i’d never be able to even think about him without wanting to scream.”

your throat tightened. you stared into your untouched drink, watching the condensation drip down the glass like it held the answers to the storm raging inside you.

you wanted to say something. you wanted to tell them that they were wrong, that the boy they described wasn’t the beomgyu you knew. but how could you? how could you speak up without unraveling the tangled mess of lies and secrets you had been holding together with trembling hands?

because the truth was something they could never know.

they didn’t know that while your friend had been falling for beomgyu, he had been falling for someone else.

he had been falling for you.

the guilt had been unbearable at first. it clawed at you, sinking its sharp, unrelenting talons into your chest every time your friend cried on your shoulder, her voice trembling as she whispered, “what did I do wrong?”

you held her, whispered reassurances you didn’t even believe, all the while knowing that you were the reason her heart had been broken.

you told yourself you would walk away. that you had to.

but then he would look at you with those eyes, dark and full of something so raw and vulnerable it made your knees weak. his walls would crumble, just for you, and the boy they all hated became someone entirely different. someone you couldn’t let go of.

“do you hate me too?” he had asked one night, his voice quiet and small, like he was afraid of the answer. you were sitting on the floor of your bedroom, the soft glow of a candle flickering between you. he was leaning back on his hands, his gaze fixed on you, searching, waiting.

your breath caught. “what?”

“everyone else does,” he continued, his lips twitching into a humorless smile. “so I figure… maybe you do too. maybe you should.”

your heart shattered. “beomgyu—”

“i know what they think of me,” he interrupted, his voice trembling now, cracking under the weight of emotions he couldn’t hold back. “i know what they say. and maybe… maybe they’re right. maybe I am horrible. but…” he reached for you then, his hand brushing against yours, warm and hesitant. “when i’m with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m that person. you make me want to be better. you make me feel like… like maybe I can be.”

you had no words. his gaze burned into you, his eyes filled with something so achingly sincere it made it hard to breathe.

but the guilt was still there, a sharp blade twisting in your chest, cutting deeper with every moment you stayed. you knew what your friends would think if they found out, the way their faces would contort with anger, with betrayal. you could hear their accusations, their voices dripping with venom. how could you do this to her? how could you do this to us?

and yet, despite the weight of it all, you couldn’t walk away.

because you loved him.

and that made it worse, somehow.

it wasn’t just that you were keeping a secret that would destroy everything. it was that you didn’t want to stop. you didn’t want to let him go, even though you knew you should. even though every moral fiber in your being screamed at you to end it, to put the pieces back together before it was too late.

but how could you leave when he looked at you like that? like you were the only person who had ever truly seen him?

how could you leave when his voice trembled as he whispered your name, when his hands shook as they traced over your skin, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go?

how could you leave when, for all his flaws, for all the mistakes he had made, he was still the boy you loved?

“you should hate me,” you whispered one night, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out. the two of you were lying in bed, tangled together in the darkness. his arm was draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. “you should hate me for doing this. for not stopping it.”

he didn’t answer at first. his hold on you tightened, his fingers digging into your side like he was trying to keep you there, trying to stop you from slipping away.

“i could never hate you,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “even if I should.”

your chest ached, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a thousand bricks.

you wanted to believe him. god, you wanted to believe him. but the guilt was always there, a constant reminder of the line you had crossed, the trust you had broken.

you didn’t know if you deserved happiness. not when it came at the expense of someone else’s pain. but when he held you like this, when he whispered your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

because no matter how wrong it was, no matter how much it hurt, you loved him.

and maybe that made you just as horrible as they thought he was.

taglist! @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu @unusuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries @napipope-ta <3 (click here if you would like to be added ^_^)

[taniahylian]

Tristes tropiques: The worst chapter in Reverse 1999

Alright, so I’ve wanted to talk about ch8 of the main story since I’ve finished it because it’s, imo, the worst drop in writing quality we’ve seen in the game so far. It has a lot of inconsistencies, things that aren’t explained or happen off-screen, and the emotional segments are rushed/not impactful enough, and about characters we’ve barely seen (excluding Anjo Nala, who is the best part of the chapter imo). Now, as you can see, this will be quite a negative take, so if you liked this chapter, please don’t let me ruin your fun lol. Also, it’ll have spoilers, so be warned.

Part 1: The representation.

Alright, had to get this out of the way first because it’s what everyone is talking about. The representation.

Is the representation bad? Yes. Really, really bad if we compare it with literally all other stories in the game. To put things in perspective, imagine if in the Notes of Shuori event nothing changed but they clamed this was Japan instead of China, yet characters still spoke in Chinese, had Chinese names, and many of the references were Chinese. That would have been outrageous, wouldn’t it? Well, that’s basically what happened here but with Brazil and other Latin American countries.

What they tried to do, basically, was dump all of Latin America (you, know a region that’s bigger and more diverse than Europe) into one singular “culture” and put this in fictional Sao Paulo. Why do I say that? Because many of the words they use for different things are in Spanish, and many characters speak in Spanish, have Spanish-sounding names, and reference things from other countries in Latin America. Also, one of the npcs, whose name I don’t care to remember, is literally a walking Mexican stereotype. To me what this says is that they didn’t do any research at all about Brazil (for those of you who don’t know, they speak Portuguese and are also far enough away from Mexico that these two cultures aren’t really comparable); enough that they couldn’t get even the language right, or even the geography or the Sao Paulo landscape, judging by what I’ve seen being said by Brazilian players.

Remember when they accurately portrayed the Secession building in Vienna? Or Jantar Mantar in Mor Pank? Or how they usually have characters speak small phrases in their native language, which is appropriate to the region and their character? Well, Bluepoch doesn’t, apparently.

Then there’s the whole “life here is hell, this is hopeless and everything here sucks” aspect of their portrayal of Sao Paulo (and their infamous tweet). This feels especially disrespectful when the story so far has always had quite a good amount of nuance. Vienna for example, having the contrast of being the “city of freedom”, yet having such a strict oppression of arcanists. Or San Francisco, having such a huge poverty and gang problem, yet still portraying the people living in these conditions as actual humans with hopes and dreams that they sometimes were able to accomplish.

And finally, to wrap up this representation thing… it feels disrespectful that the only Brazilian character we get is Mr. Duncan. Mainly because it seems he’s not really Mr. Duncan, but actually Mr. Karson. You know, an English man. I think they should’ve made Lopera Brazilian because so far having her be from Colombia adds nothing to the story, and if she was from Sao Paulo it’d make a lot more sense for her to be Vertin’s guide/translator in the city.

Okay, so that’s what we get from the representation in this chapter, which is pretty bad (haven’t read Anjo’s character story, which I’ve heard is better in this aspect, but that’s not actually part of ch8, so I excluded it). However, honestly I wouldn’t mind that much if the story had at least been good. So… let’s talk about that next, shall we?

Part 2: The story.

The good.

Okay, first let’s get the good things out of the way, because I don’t want to sit here and pretend that everything about this chapter was bad; that would be unfair and disingenuous.

I liked Lopera and Molly. They were interesting characters and have a lot of potential for the future of the story, which I really hope they deliver in future chapters.

I liked White Rum; she’s a funny character, and the concept of an Awakened pirate ship that has the skeletal hand of her former captain (Anne Bonnie, my favorite pirate of all time) is quite an interesting and unique idea, and I wish we got more characters like this. Also, I need to see her interact with Regulus lol.

I absolutely adored Anjo Nala. She’s the highlight of the story for me; an interesting, complex, and adorable character with a lot of potential for stories to tell, both about her past and her future. I really became attached to her over the course of this story, and I think they did a good job making you care for her… in this specific chapter. Don’t look back at versions 2.0 and 2.1 if you don’t want to get your fun ruined, because consistency is something they didn’t care about at all while writing this patch. And that brings us to…

The bad.

Buckle up my friends because what’s bad about this chapter is really, really, REALLY bad. Consistency is something they don’t believe in anymore, retcons are on the market, and setting up characters/settings/relationships is a thing of the past.

Does it sound like I’m being too harsh? Maybe, but it’s deserved, so idc.

Let’s start from the least bad, shall we? Anjo Nala’s hunger. In 2.0 and 2.1, as well as the first of Anjo’s monologues (the things you unlock after getting traces of a specific character), it’s implied that she can’t eat human food. Not that she doesn’t find it satisfactory, or that she doesn’t like it. It’s heavily implied she literally can’t eat it.

But then she steals some bread and Vertin gives her chocolate, and she eats both, so… what’s up with that? Also, they never really explain what her hunger is for. Was it really just normal human food? Or something else? In her trailer (which btw I wouldn’t consider it part of the main story because it’s a freaking trailer, but whatever) she “feeds on someone’s love” by using her tail. Okay, but then that person turns into a “walking corpse”. Does she have to do that every time she’s hungry? What happens if she doesn’t? Is human food substitute enough? The game never answers these questions, which is a mistake because this whole thing is a central part of Anjo’s character, as well as her turning from her bloodthirsty self to the Anjo we meet in this chapter.

And this brings us to my second issue… the inconsistency of Anjo’s character with the two events we had before this patch. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying anything she ever did was her fault since she was simply a slave following orders, and one thing that is consistent about her character is that she doesn’t like when people do give her orders. However, what really annoys me is how in 2.0 she was very bloodthirsty. Sure, she didn’t know J and his gang, and she had done these types of jobs before, but imo it would’ve been more consistent with the other patches if she was indifferent about killing them, rather than excited. 2.1 was slightly more consistent with ch8 when it comes to Anjo’s character, but it’s kind of implied it was all an act, and her “real” personality was that of 2.0.

Now, I’ve seen some ppl explain this as “well, in a wilderness interaction she says she acts however her master prefers her to”. Okay, but why put such important information in a freaking wilderness interaction and not in the main story??? You can’t even see those unless you have the character, and seeing as Anjo is limited, not everyone will have her. This is a fact.

Another problem I have with Anjo (this is the last, I promise) is that we’re not introduced to her again in ch8, which surely is a decision. Why? Because 2.0 and 2.1 aren’t part of the main story; they’re side events, which are time-limited and, at the moment, not available in-game. This is a problem because anyone who didn’t play those events for one reason or another will be very confused by Anjo Nala and how Vertin reacts to her. It would’ve been better if we were introduced to her from the pov of Lopera, for example, when she raided the Manus base and captured her. And then we could have Vertin run into her on the ship and explain to Sotheby (with a little more detail than what we got) that she actually met her before.

I’m just saying, this isn’t the first time we got a character in a main chapter that had been previously introduced only in an event (Marta/Bessmert), but in that case, if you missed the event, you could still fully enjoy the main chapter, because you wouldn’t even know that you were missing information. That’s not the case here.

And speaking of Urd… okay, let’s talk about how little sense it makes for the Foundation to want to find her in this chapter. In ch5 Vertin and her team found a suspicious radio that talked about a travel note about Aperion written by someone named “Urd”. In this case it makes sense for them to want to investigate, since the base Ms. Radio was in had things that belonged to the Manus, and they found some Manus followers there as well. Even after ch5 and everything that happened, it still makes sense for Vertin to want to keep looking for Urd because now she has the suspicion, based on what 6 said, that Urd is her mother.

However, although it makes sense for Vertin to want to find Urd, it doesn’t make sense for the freaking Foundation to want to find some random UTTU editor. Because that’s really all Urd is, isn’t she? She’s not the head of UTTU (that’d be Pandora), and the fact that she can traverse the storm, which is the only reason we’re given in ch8, is shared among all UTTU editors, as we learn from Barbara.

But even if we assume the Foundation wants to know how UTTU keeps its editors safe… first of all, why? We already have the equilibrium umbrellas, don’t we? We spent a whole chapter seeing their creation, and even saw ppl die for this cause. Why would they need yet another method for surviving the storm? If they instead suspected UTTU to be involved with the Manus somehow, and that’s how they’re traversing the storm, then at least give us that!

Furthermore, the Foundation already knew where she was! They were the ones who gave her the white marble chair with a button! If they just wanted to speak with her, surely a simply call would’ve sufficed? Why send Vertin?

And that’s another thing! Constantine knows Vertin’s mom, and I'm sure she’s not the only one in the Foundation who does, yet the Foundation tried to cover it up and tell Vertin that she doesn’t have a mother. Clearly they have some motivation for keeping it hidden, right? Then… why send Vertin specifically to search for Urd? Why not send some other random investigator, preferentially one with experience finding ppl? Why Vertin???

If Vertin had gone out of her own will, like in ch5, I’d have no problem with this, but no; the Foundation sent her this time. And I just can’t bring myself to understand why.

Maybe if Urd isn’t Vertin’s mom, that would explain this, but for now this makes no sense at all.

Next I want to talk about Lopera and Molly’s relationship. I said before that I truly liked their characters and their relationship, which is true, but… I wish it had been better stablished. Why? Because we had only had one, one single scene, of them together and the suddenly there was a grand betrayal and we’re supposed to feel bad for Lopera? Lmao.

If I felt slightly bad for Lopera it was because of the voice acting, the music and the art. I can assure you, not one single ounce of those feelings came from the actual story being told. It’s even worse when it comes to Igor because he barely exchanged words with Lopera, and all we know from their relationship comes from Lopera telling us “he’s better than my biological father”. And let’s not talk about Ptoleme. He literally only appeared to be a jerk for like five minutes and neither Molly nor Lopera seem to care much about him. How are we supposed to care about that entire family? They really don’t feel like a family at all (except for Lopera and Molly, but even then, it’s the bare minimum this chapter could do with this concept).

It would’ve been so much better if we had this whole chapter to stablish Lopera’s relationship with her adoptive family, with Zeno, the veterans and the Sao Paulo community, and then in the next chapter we could have the big betrayal be more impactful. But here? We barely spent any time with these characters!

And then we have the actual betrayal scene, which is… nonsensical. At best.

What happened in it? Molly arrived at the Colonel’s manor with her squad of Zeno soldiers and attacked the few Apostles Brotherhood ppl that remained, then says she’s glad that Lopera was able to rescue Dr. Dores and that they should all go back to the base. None of this is suspicious, imo, because Vertin had already told Lopera that she was going to call Zeno for reinforcements, specifically to assist with the rescue of Dr. Dores. It’s true that Molly hesitates a little when Lopera asks “what about the timekeeper?”, and that she dismisses Lopera’s concerns about evacuating Sao Paulo, but imo this shouldn’t be enough for Lopera to be so suspicious of her freaking sister. Also, why ask “who’s waiting for you in Tierra del Fuego”? Why would Lopera every think this was anything other than a mission from Zeno???

Sure, they didn’t tell her about it, but also she’s been gone from the base for a couple of days and she knows there’s been traitors and rebels. A lot could’ve changed in that time. Even if she didn’t want to leave because she got attached to Sao Paulo, I think it’s weird that she immediately was so confrontational about it, especially with her sister, who famously just follows their father’s orders without questions.

This could’ve worked if Lopera was already suspicious of her family beforehand, or maybe even of Zeno’s higher ups, or if Molly and her squad had just waltzed in without attacking the Manus or being attacked by them. But that’s not what happened. Also, if she really was suspicious, why not go back to the base and question Igor about this whole thing like Molly suggested? I don’t see why she immediately would think base=bad when her whole family and the army she’s part of is currently at the base.

Like, I get she already had trauma because of her biological father being a jerk, but that situation doesn’t seem to have anything to do with this one imo. All in all, what I’m saying is that the bad writing of this scene lessens the emotional impact.

And it’s not the only emotional scene that’s affected by the blatant bad writing in this chapter. No, that “honor” goes to the scene the trailer for this patch opens with; Anjo being ordered to kill Vertin by Ptoleme.

Okay, so as a refresher, Igor requests that his son, Ptoleme, is sent to the base because “he can only trust in his children because they always obey him”. Okay, so then what does Ptoleme do when ordered to bring back Kimberly, preferentially without a fuss? Of course, cause the biggest scene imaginable, which leads to Kimberly being freed.

Now, I wouldn’t be so harsh on him if his actions were reasonable but due to circumstances led to an unfavorable outcome for him, but that’s not what happened. Okay, he ordered Anjo to kill Vertin. Whatever, he’s a sadistic asshole, but this at least kinda makes sense. What makes no sense whatsoever is that he not only gave Vertin a gun because “he won’t shoot an unarmed civilian” (why does he care? Also ultimately he orders Anjo to kill her, so he wouldn’t have shot an unarmed civilian anyways), but also that he kept trying to make Vertin shoot Anjo.

Why? Just why? There was no reason for him to want Vertin to kill Anjo. None at all. And if what he wanted was to convince Anjo to kill Vertin… he can’t play both the “I’ll free you if you kill her” and the “Vertin, kill her, she’s a monster” cards at the same time. It makes him look like a pathetic moron with no sense of reality whatsoever, and in retrospective makes Igor look like a bigger idiot who doesn’t know his children at all. I think the reason they did this is because they wanted to replicate the infamous orange scene from ch2, but without all the logic, lore and emotional impact behind it, just hoping players would feel emotions by association.

And finally, we come to my biggest complain about this chapter: the retcon about how the storm works. Because yes, it is a retcon. Why do I say that? Mainly based on ch6.

In ch6 we learn that Heinrich, in 1912, left Vienna to study at Berlin. There, he met the Manus and joined them, surviving that storm, and subsequent ones, until time returned to 1913 and he went back to Vienna, reuniting with his old friends and telling them about the storm.

Now, how is this relevant? Well, from Heinrich’s story we learned two things; 1) you can indeed see again someone who was once reversed by the storm, but only if time ever goes back to that era, and 2) The fact that his friends recognized him and he recognized his friends, and his friends’ existence was consistent even though the storm had once reversed them. You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?

At the end of ch8, Vertin says “the storm doesn’t kill ppl, at least not physically”. Okay Vertin, did you have a lobotomy between chapters? The storm has never killed ppl; it’s just the end of an era, remember? It reverses time! It’s in the freaking name! The scariest part about the storm isn’t the storm itself, but the storm syndrome, which is when most casualties seem to happen. Sure, the storm sucked for Vertin because she kept traversing eras and losing the friends she made in them, but those friends remained anchored in their own time (perhaps with the exception of ppl who had already crossed the storm at least once, like The Ring and Isabella, but I digress).

My point is, that I really don’t like where this retcon is headed, but I do hope they somehow fix it in the future, either by making it clear that not everyone who gets reversed is reincarnated and there’s very strict conditions that should be met (like having knowledge about the storm, for example), or this hypothesis is wrong and the storm isn’t actually making ppl reincarnate.

One reason I especially don’t like this new reincarnation thing is that… Mr. Duncan isn’t Mr. Karson. Let’s not lie to ourselves. He looks nothing like Mr. Karson (and I wish the game would stop gaslighting me), doesn’t act like Mr. Karson, doesn’t speak like Mr. Karson, and doesn’t even have the same nationality as him! The only things that are similar about them is that they’re both old war veterans who once had a dog and now have a soft spot for young ladies. And if this is the approach they’ll use to bring back characters in the future… thanks, but I’d rather they stayed reversed.

Think about it! Will they next say that Anjo is Schneider? They look similar enough (more similar than Duncan and Karson, that’s for sure!), both were antagonists that joined the manus for reasons beyond their control, both had a fight with Vertin in which they almost got killed, and both have a snake bracelet on their left arm. Surely that’s enough to say they’re one and the same, according to this logic!

My point is that using such simple similarities, they can literally invent any new character they want and then say “this is actually this other character, who was once reversed by the storm”, regardless of if they’re actually similar at all, and I don’t think that people who wanted them to bring back Schneider or Marian, or Mr. Karson, or 888, or literally anyone, wanted them to be brought back like this.

But that’s enough of me ranting lol. What do you think? Did you like this chapter? What are your main complains about it?

To be clear I’m not saying we should stop playing the game or anything like that; from what I’ve heard the next event is actually good, and I have faith Bluepoch will listen to the players and make sure ch9 is better than whatever ch8 was, but it’s precisely this why it is important for us, as players, to speak out when we don’t like something so that Bluepoch knows they can’t get away with such blatant drops in quality.

Now, if you somehow made it to the end, thanks for reading!

[ray935sworld]

~ 2025 season Marmarc snippet ~

This is a first draft cause I wanna write and share my writing but uni is a bitch so no editing and/ or real introduction but somehow it got longe enough and now it's an actual story and not but who cares. 🐢, this is for you, my dear. 🙃

"Alex is pretty stressed" Marc said as he sat down next to Bez on the bed. The young man looked at him with tired eyes. He blinked a few times, clearly trying to let the conversation continue.

They hadn't seen each other for the whole day. And it had been a long and tiring day for both of them.

Softly he asked. "Oh no, is he okay?" "Yeah..." he reassured him. "It's just - Nadja said he's supposed to finish in the top 5. That's a pretty big ask. I mean, I believe in him but Aldeguer got a better deal. I mean, he's asked to be rookie of the year. He only has to beat a fucking aprilla and a Honda. That's not really hard and-"

"The fuck you just said?" Marco interrupted and sat up with an angry glance. His until then half closed eyes went wide. Marc blinked in confusion about to ask what was wrong when he remembered that his boyfriend was no longer riding a Ducati.

He felt the heat creep up in his cheeks, embarrassed to be caught like that. He stared at Bez, realizing how deep his words had to run and he knew he had fucked up. "I - No, baby, that's not what I meant-" he said quickly, reaching for the younger one, hoping the physical contact might settle his anger.

"A rookie on an aprilla. Not you. No, never you. A rookie on a aprilla isn't that big of a threat to a Ducati but you-" Bez scoffed. He had turned away, not leaning into Marcs touch. Something he had never done before. The rejection broke a small part of the Spaniards heart.

He watched how he turned his head away to avoid his touch in his cheeks. He saw how he pulled his legs away as if Marc's touch would burn him. "You know what? Go fuck yourself." he said and stood up.

He was already up when Marc grabbed his arm. He hung onto his wrist. He felt his skin and for a moment he felt settled. "No please. Listen, I-" But his boyfriend moved his hand away.

Marc wouldn't force it, so he let go. He stared at him, begging silently. He knew he had fucked up. He knew his phrasing could have been better. He knew it. But he had been to tired to realize beforehand. But at least Bez turned around. "I believed you when you said that aprilla was good... You know how anxious I was about the decision and you lied!"

The Ducati rider swallowed. He did remember the discussions they had about the younger ones move. At first it was just a theoretical question but at the end, Marco spoke openly about it. And Marc had encouraged him.

"I didn't!" he reassured him. "You did!" "I didn't! You asked if it'd be the right choice. And I always said yes because-" "And that was a lie!" "No! I honestly think it's the right choice... For you. I mean - look." He took a deep breath.

"You weren't happy in the last year. Like - not at all. The team didn't make you happy anymore-" "Do NOT talk about them like that. They are my friends!" he shot back, anger lingering in his voice. Mentally Marc took a step back. "I'm not saying they aren't." he said softly. He hoped a soft tone might calm him down.

"I'm just saying that maybe... You know... You wanting to make them - especially Rossi - proud wasn't excatly helping." "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "Marco, I really don't think it's my place to-" "Say it, Marquez, or I'm walking out of here."

He felt his anxiety rise. No. He couldn't let Marco walk out of here, angry, sad. Maybe he wouldn't come back.

"I'm... I'm saying that as your boyfriend, who loves you like crazy, not as a rider, okay?" He looked at Bez, begging him to understand. And he did. The Italian looked at him and replied, slightly calmer "Okay." So Marc explained.

"You weren't happy in the team. You wanted to make them proud because of what they did for you. You felt you were obligated to archive something because you know how happy they were in 2023 and you couldn't do that in 2024. Or at least not in the same amount. You became desperate and angry at yourself and helpless. And I couldn't find a way to help you - until - well until you told me about that offer for Aprilla."

He remembered all the times Bez had stormed into the motorhome and growled something about 'this fucking bike' just to then bury his head in Marc's chest. Sometimes he had cried. Sometimes he had just laid there, pretending the world wasn't there. Marc hated it every time.

He wanted his boyfriend back. The one that came skipping in, a big grin on his face. He didn't care if it was because of Rubik or because of a podium he had scared but he needed that smile back. But during the last season it was like nothing really bought Bez joy, like his whole happiness was swallowed by his fear and anxiety and not even Marc could do anything about it.

"So yes, I said that it was the best decision for you. And maybe - yes it was selfish that my support was mainly based on the fact that I didn't want to see my happy, cheerful boyfriend go down the same rabbit hole as last year."

He felt tears in Hi eyes as he recalled the past.

"But fucking hell - I thought I'll lose you." he said in all honesty. "You can't seriously expect not to encourage you to take a way out. Yes the aprilla is worst than the Ducati. But that's a fact. You knew that when you took the offer. I didn't say anything against that. So yeah - as a rider - maybe you should have stayed on a Ducati because at the moment they are the best"

He saw teh way Bez eyes widen for a moment. But they both knew he was just stating facts.

"But the bike wasn't working for you. And maybe the 2024 or 2025 bike wouldn't work for you either. And I highly suspect that and I'm sorry for that. But maybe the Aprilia works better. I'm sure it will. Marco, I believe in you. You're one of the best riders on the grid. I know you can succeed... But it's not worth your mental and physical health. You can't ask me to actually support that when it's unlikely that it will work"

Marco looked at him, the anger in his eyes gone again.

"And if it doesn't work? If I lose the seat and no one's wanna take me?" "Than they are stupid idiots. Who cares?" "What if that moves destroys my career? Would you-" "If you ask me if I'd still love you if you weren't a motogp rider, I'll throw a cushion in your face. Of course I'd still love you. I love you like crazy. Don't tell me you can't see that? Please, don't tell me I've been that much of a bad boyfriend that you don't even believe that I love you regardless of what you do?"

Finally Bez sat down again, this time right on Marcs lap, which made the older one laugh.

"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have jump at you like taht because of it" Marco mumbled, his face hidden in Marc's shoulder. He just leaned against him.

"No you're not. It's okay. I love you. I love you so, so incredible much" "I love you too"