#i wonder if people understand how bad this is...

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Caleb

Caleb x Non Mc/Reader

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

a/n: ok this is my longest fic yet (can you tell he's my fav), chat i think i cooked with this one. this will be the last part in my lonely birthday series, i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, reader is childhood friends w/ caleb and MC, MC is a bit of a spoiled brat here (pls dkm), this is set in a timeline where there are no evols and caleb does not die in an explosion, this one acc has a backstory in comparison to the other parts I wrote, just cause jumping right into it with caleb just didnt feel right without a proper backstory, use of pet names (sadly he's not calling you pip-squeak in this one but he does call you baby), mentions of self harm (nothing happens its just a thought that passes), lmk if i missed smth

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

Xavier Rafayel Zayne Sylus

taglist: @rcvcgers

You were always overshadowed by her, from childhood to adulthood.

To make matters worse, your birthdays were only a couple of days apart, yours coming before hers, because they were so close together your birthdays were always celebrated with her on her birthday.

It was like killing two birds with one stone. Every time you complained about wanting to celebrate your birthday on your actual date you were told it would be unfair for MC.

Your own family favoured her more than you, sometimes you wondered whether they even considered you their daughter at all.

But then there was Caleb. Him and MC were inseparable when you first met her, always there whenever you two hung out. Eventually, you got close to him as well and began to hang outside of your meet ups with MC.

He always made you feel like you were your own person, not a shadow of someone else.

Maybe that's why you fell for him.

Over the course of your childhood leading into your teenage years you were head over heels for him. Anyone could see it was obvious, and to certain people it bothered them, and you never noticed it until it was too late.

●・○・●・○・●・

Despite being the same age as MC, there was one thing you had that she didn't. You were far smarter than those your age, that gave you the ability to skip ahead a couple of grades so that you were at a level that was more to your capabilities.

But your brain could only get you so far in certain circumstances.

You were in the same class as Caleb, so naturally you ended up being closer to him than you were before. It also made admiring him much more easier.

But nothing was ever easy for you. All throughout your school years MC would always barge in on your study time with Caleb, always needing help with her assignments.

Normally, it wouldn't be a problem if it was a one off thing, but anytime you were over at their place to study with Caleb, it became a tutoring session for MC. It was even more annoying when she would constantly brush off your help, only wanting Caleb to help her.

"I don't understand it when you explain it. You're always using difficult words."

MC whined whenever you would offer to help, and each time Caleb would laugh and ruffle her hair.

"It's okay pip-squeak, I'll explain it in simpler terms."

Whenever he would say that, you could feel a pang in your chest.

It was during that time you and MC started to drift apart. You never really understood until that day.

●・○・●・○・●・

The day before graduation you finally chalked up the courage to confess to Caleb, and to your surprise he had accepted.

You had anticipated a rejection, knowing that he was busy with prepping to go to Skyhaven to attend the DAA, and unfortunately a lot of his free time was spent with MC.

He had always been protective of her, he also extended that to you as well. Although the way he treated you was different than the way he treated her.

The fleeting glances, the lingering touches, the nights he would spend with you when things were bad. How could you not fall for a man who cared for you like that.

You thought it was just your delusions that there was something between the two of you, but him accepting your confession made those delusions become reality.

●・○・●・○・●・

Everyone found you guys to be an unexpected couple, they always expected Caleb to be with MC with how good their chemistry was, but he viewed her simply as his little sister. One that he was a little too protective of but you never found that to be a sense of insecurity.

Or so you thought.

You and Caleb had been dating for almost 4 years now. It was a bit rough with both of you pursuing your academics and not having much time to spend together, but you guys always made it work.

Sometimes Caleb would bail on your dates because something came up with his studies, and you believed him. Who knew it was because someone felt a little jealous of you guys spending time together.

You had never realized that the dates Caleb bailed were because someone back in Linkon wanted attention, and who better to ask than Caleb!

You and MC and drifted apart, and after your graduation you barely ever saw her unless you were home for the holidays with Caleb. You chose to be the bigger person whenever she tried to monopolize Caleb's time, knowing he saw you more often than her, you let it slide.

Although, deep down it bothered you that she would always try to be the sole focus of his attention or when you guys went out on a date she just so happened to be there too, turning it into a group hangout where you felt like the third wheel.

Crazy right? Being a third wheel in your own relationship, guess you could cross that off on your bingo card.

It was your birthday tomorrow, you and Caleb had planned a nice day in with him cooking your favourites and then baking a cake together. Both of your schedules had finally managed to align and you guys had a week off, so you planned on crashing at his place for some much needed quality time.

With it being your final year, you guys were buried in back to back assignments and exams, the stress was high. Having the week off let you guys finally have a moment to breathe.

You packed your bags for the week before making your way over to Caleb's place, it wasn't too far of a drive. You made a quick stop at the grocery store, grabbing your favourite snacks and some groceries so you can make him some food while you're at his place.

By the time you got to Caleb's place the sun was just starting to set. You walked into his place, unlocking it with the spare keys he gave you.

It was quiet in his home.

"Hmm seems like Caleb isn't back from his classes yet."

You thought out loud. Putting away your stuff in his room you made your way to the kitchen, wanting to cook Caleb some dinner.

Like magic, as soon as you were done adding the finishing touches to dinner, Caleb walked in.

"Hi baby, it smells good in here."

Caleb greeted you, coming closer to place a kiss on your lips.

You quickly sent him away to go wash up while you set the table. Dinner was nice and peaceful, it was moments like these that made you feel happy. No distractions, just you and Caleb.

You guys spent most of dinner just catching up about all the stuff that happened while you guys were apart. Caleb insisted on cleaning up since you had cooked dinner, so you were sitting on the counter next to the sink as he washed the dishes.

You chatted away mindlessly, he listened with a smile on his face, throwing in a response here and there.

Once he was done, you were about to jump off the counter when Caleb slotted himself between your legs, hands coming to rest on your hips.

You immediately went quiet, the mood shifting to something more intimate. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, nuzzling your nose with his.

You guys stayed in that position for a little bit, enjoying the moment. The rest of the evening was spent with you guys just lounging around and catching up.

As you were getting ready for bed you could feel your stomach drop with anxiety for no reason, you brushed it off as just your nerves about sharing the same bed with Caleb after a while.

You shouldn't have brushed it off.

You got changed into one of his t-shirts and got into bed, Caleb slid in not too long after, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest.

“Goodnight.”

He said as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Goodnight.”

You replied back, snuggling closer into his chest.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was around 4 am when you woke up to feeling an empty bed next to you.

It’s still warm, Caleb must have just gotten up.

You got out of bed to go look for him. The moment you stepped out the your room you spotted him in the living room dressed to go outside.

The alarm bells in your head were going off.

“Hey, where are you going this late at night?”

It was just a simple question, one that didn’t warrant the reaction you were about to receive.

“Out.”

Caleb replied in an oddly cold tone.

What’s with that tone?

“Okay, but that’s not what I asked. Where are you going?”

You asked again, something in your gut was telling you that you were not going to like the answer.

Caleb sighed out in frustration before replying.

“MC called and needed me, so I’m going to Linkon right now. You know how she gets.”

Normally you wouldn’t say anything, but this was supposed to be your time with Caleb, no distractions.

“Why do you always go at the drop of a hat whenever she calls? You’re supposed to be spending time with me, not running to her whenever something doesn’t go her way.”

Years of frustration were finally bubbling to the surface, you didn’t want it to come out but you had to set your boundaries.

“It’s not fair to me as your girlfriend if you keep putting her above me.”

Your voiced raised a bit as you spoke, you didn’t mean for it to but having to constantly deal with MC barging in on your time with Caleb, whether she knew he was with you or not, was beyond irritating.

“I’m not putting her above you, she just requires a bit more care and attention than you do.”

That did it, if you weren’t mad before you definitely were now.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s exactly as I said it. MC always feels insecure, even more so when you skipped grades and left her alone. I can’t just ignore her when she calls me asking for help.”

Every explanation that came out of his mouth had you seeing red, you weren’t gonna back down either.

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me? Just because we were friends didn’t mean that I had to be stuck to her hip 24/7. I skipped those grades cause it benefited me for my future, and if she really was my friend she would’ve been happy for me instead of sulking around like a child.”

That lit a fuse in Caleb, if there was one thing he didn’t tolerate it was anyone saying something about MC, even if it was you.

“You better watch what you say, I won’t tolerate it even it it’s you.”

His tone had you taking a step back, it was a whole different level of cold. You should’ve taken that as your sign to back off and come back to this when you guys were less heated, but who were you if not stubborn.

“Omg how could I ever insult your precious MC. You need to let go of that overprotectiveness you have when it comes to her, it puts me in a tough spot when you go running to her like a dog when its owner calls.”

You probably took it too far with that but you were past the point of no return.

“You’re so infuriating! What do you not understand that MC needs me right now, every moment I spend here on this useless conversation is more time she’s alone.”

He spat back.

I’m infuriating?

That hit a nerve, but you couldn’t let him see that, not until you got all your feelings out.

“I’m infuriating?! What about MC? Every time we get some time together she always fucking ruins it! Can’t I just have all of your attention and time without her trying to barge in? It’s like she’s trying to make it so we don’t spend any time together!”

“God you’re so fucking clingy! I knew I should have listened to MC when she warned me not to date you!”

He yelled that at you, and for the first time since the conversation started you were speechless.

“What?”

Your voice was low and filled with hurt. You couldn’t believe your ears that he would say something like that.

“You heard me. I should have never dated you. I ignored MC when she warned me, I gave you the benefit of the doubt but I should’ve fucking known. MC would have been a better girlfriend than you.”

You could hear your heart breaking, you don’t know if you’d ever recover from this.

Caleb took your silence as an opportunity to walk around you to the door, slamming it behind him.

You felt your knees give out, the tears were streaming down your face in silent pain. You didn’t know he thought of you that way, you didn’t want to think that way but a part of you felt like MC was talking bad about you behind your back. It makes no sense he would say all of that on his own.

Will I always be in her shadow? Is that all I’m worth?

You thought to yourself.

●・○・●・○・●・

God knows how long you were in that position for, no sign of Caleb coming back or any calls or texts. You picked yourself up off the floor and gathered all your things, you’d be damned if you spent another minute in this house where you clearly had no worth.

Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, you made sure to clear everything you had at Caleb’s place, not leaving a single thing behind.

You put everything in your car and drove yourself home. It was 6 in the morning so the roads were starting to get busy but it was quiet enough for you to be lost in thought, a dangerous action while driving. You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice that you were approaching a red light until it was too late.

A car had crashed into your drivers side, and everything went black.

●・○・●・○・●・

*In Linkon*

Caleb had made it outside of MC’s dorm, the argument he had with you weighing heavy on his mind but his first priority was MC.

Who knew that argument would cost him everything.

It didn’t take long before MC threw open the door and jumped into his arms. He returned the hug by patting her on the head before heading inside.

“What happened? Why did you call?”

He asked, although his mind wasn’t entirely present in the moment, it kept drifting back to you.

“Oh no reason, I was just thinking about you and decided to call you. You know it’s my birthday in a couple of days so I wanted you to spend some time with me this weekend.”

For the first time ever, Caleb felt a spark of annoyance at MC’s reasoning. She had called him earlier in tears and said he needed to come quick, he even fought with you before coming here.

Pushing that feeling aside he simply smiled.

“You know I can’t do that pip squeak, I already promised Y/N I would spend my week off with her. We had a bit of an argument before I came here, so I have to go back in a bit to make sure she’s fine.”

He said.

She’ll probably be calmed down by the time I come back.

He thought to himself, boy was he wrong.

MC pouted, not liking how things weren’t playing in her favour, but she planned on trying to come up with another excuse later to get him to stay longer.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed when he got that heart stopping call.

“Hello is this Caleb Xia? This is Skyhaven Hospital calling about Miss Y/N.”

The nurse spoke in a hurried tone, tt was like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

“Speaking, what happened.”

His anxiety went through the roof, what happened after he left? Did you hurt yourself? But he never say any signs of depression, was he actually putting MC above you so much that he was ignoring your feelings?

His mind was running a mil a minute with each thought progressively getting worse, the guilt from what he said to you when you guys fought was finally kicking in.

“She was involved in a car accident and needs surgery, we require a signature from her guardian to proceed. Are you able to come in right now? It’s urgent.”

“Can I give you my consent over the phone? I’m currently in Linkon and it would take me some time to get back, I don’t want to delay the procedure.”

Although Caleb sounded composed, on the inside he was breaking.

“The surgeon said that should be fine, please do make sure to be here as soon as possible as you need to fill out some forms. We’ll get started on the surgery. Thank you.”

The nurse promptly hung up, leaving Caleb to his thoughts.

Without wasting a moment he got up and made his way to the door. MC had been trying to listen to what was being said on the phone, unable to decipher what was happening based on Caleb’s words alone. Seeing Caleb getting ready to leave she jumped up, trying to stop him.

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave, you basically just got here!”

She grabbed ahold of his arm, trying to physically stop him but it was of no use, he pulled his arm out of her grasp and tried to leave again before she spoke up.

“What excuse did she come up with this time? She does this all the time whenever you and I spend time together.”

Something in him had just snapped, it was like a fog had been lifted. Never in his life did he think he would be here getting upset at MC, but life has a funny way of proving you wrong.

“What are you even talking about, when has she ever done that?”

MC was taken aback, Caleb never questioned her whenever she said anything like this before, he would just spend some time comforting her.

“I don’t have time for this, I’m leaving. I’ll talk to you about this later.”

He said in a curt tone, leaving no room for discussion.

●・○・●・○・●・

Caleb had booked it to Skyhaven, not wanting to waste a single moment.

By the time he made it, the surgery was still ongoing. Grabbing the nearest nurse he asked for an update, unfortunately they didn’t have much of an update to give him aside from the fact that your condition was really bad when you were brought in. You had ran a red light and were hit on the drivers side by oncoming traffic, the other driver made it out with minor injuries and a concussion.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. You had been brought in with internal bleeding, a broken arm and head trauma. Your recovery period was going to be lengthy, which in turn would also hinder your ability to graduate this year like you had planned, but that was a problem for next time.

Caleb slumped onto on the chairs outside the OR, the time passed by excruciatingly slow.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours later the operation was finally completed.

Seeing you in that condition physically hurt him, his chest feeling constricted.

“We were able to stop the bleeding but she’s still unconscious, because the head trauma was severe it’ll take some time before she will wake up.”

Caleb nodded, listening to the doctor’s words intently. He followed the nurses to the room where you were going to be recovering, taking a seat next to the bed he held your hand in his.

“I’m sorry, please. Please just wake up soon.”

Sadly you wouldn’t wake up for another two months.

Everyday Caleb would come to take care of you, making sure to change the flowers before they began to wilt, taking responsibility to wash you and take care of your hair, hell he would even do your skincare at night so you’d wake up in perfect condition.

Although he knew deep down inside that nothing he could do could ever make up for the things he said and how he made you feel. Caleb and MC had also grown apart during this time, constantly wishing that he had never went to see her that night, if he didn’t then maybe you’d be awake and smiling next to him instead of lying still on that bed in this lifeless hospital room.

Caleb came in with a fresh bouquet of your favourite flowers, silently he replaced the old ones, making sure to get some fresh water before putting in the new bouquet. Once that was done he made his way to his usual spot, right next to your bed.

Earlier the doctor said you were recovering well, although it would take some time and rehab for you to use your arm again. You’d also be weak from the extended period of time that was spent in bed, but Caleb was nothing if not determined to make sure he was there for you every step of the way.

“Hey baby, it’s me Caleb. You’re probably tired of hearing my voice everyday huh? The doctor says you’re recovering well, you’ll just need some rehab to help you get back into the groove of things when you wake up.”

Caleb kept getting choked up the more he spoke, he just wanted you to wake up, even if you don’t want him anymore, he’d be fine with that.

“I miss you, your voice, your sweet smile, everything. If I could trade spots with you I would. So please, please just wake up. I’m sorry for everything, I’m such a shitty boyfriend aren’t I? I can’t believe I said all of that, on your birthday no less.”

At this point the tears he tried so hard to hold back started streaming down his face. It was hard to keep up that strong front, but he tried because he felt that he didn’t deserve to be sad, not when he’s to blame for you being in this state.

He grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it to his face hoping to feel something. Anything.

He nuzzled his face in to your hand as he silently cried. It wasn’t long before he was passed out in that chair, still holding your hand to his face.

He felt it in the middle of the night, always the light sleeper he was awake at the slightest of movements. He knew he wasn’t mistaken, he felt your hand twitch for this first time in two months.

He was now wide awake and sitting upright in his seat, watching you closely. That’s when he say it, your hand twitched in his hold, a slight groan escaping your lips, but your eyes had still yet to open.

Caleb had already pressed the call button, the nurses and doctor filling the room in a matter of minutes, that’s when you had finally opened your eyes.

●・○・●・○・●・

A series of tests had been conducted and the doctor had caught you up to speed with everything before you were left alone with Caleb. You avoided looking at him the entire time, it stung, but he couldn’t complain.

You cleared your throat uncomfortably, the dryness getting to you, but before you could even get the water, Caleb had already poured a glass and was holding it out to you.

You silently took it from him and drank it slowly, not wanting to shock your system. It was a struggle, your grip on the glass was weak. It almost slipped out of your hands if not for Caleb holding the bottom of the cup.

Once you were done, Caleb put the glass on the side, reaching out to grab your hands. You pulled them back before he could touch you.

“Why are you here Caleb? Doesn’t MC need you?”

Were you being petty? Yes, the fight that you guys had may have been two months ago for him, but for you it was like it was yesterday. The wounds from his words were still fresh.

You missed the look of hurt that flashed across his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"You don't get to come in here and think that everything will be fine. I just wanted one week with you, no distractions. All I got in return? You leaving me alone on the morning of my birthday after telling me you should've listened to MC when she told you not to date me?!"

You had tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them escape. You didn't want to let him see just how broken you were about this.

Caleb had nothing to say, how could he? He was the one who put you in this position, he's the reason you ended up in the hospital.

"Please just leave."

Your voice sounded so broken, all he could do was listen to your request even though every cell in his being told him to stay by your side. He chose to just wait outside your room, not wanting to be too far away from you but still wanting to respect your request.

As soon as soon Caleb left the room you let the tears you were holding back fall, your body shook with sobs as everything came crashing down on you.

Even with the morphine you could feel the lingering bits of pain all throughout your body.

You eventually ended up crying yourself to sleep. The silence had Caleb worried, so he had decided to check in on you, seeing that you were asleep he was able to calm himself down a little.

But the sight of your tear stricken face had him clutching his chest in pain, all he wanted to do was take away your pain.

For now, he was just going to try his best to be by your side, no matter how much you pushed him away. He was determined to make things right.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of weeks had passed before you were finally released from the hospital.

During that time Caleb was as stubborn as ever, never leaving your side unless it was for classes, he spent the nights next to your bed, watching over you. He was always one step ahead, if you were thinking about food or water, the next second he would have it in front of you.

You didn't want to admit it, you enjoyed having him wait on you hand and foot. But you still weren't ready to forgive him, not yet. You still needed to talk to him about what happened before you could decide where this relationship was headed.

You wanted to give him another chance, seeing how tirelessly he's been taking care of you these past few weeks. You could only assume he was doing the same those two months where you were unconscious.

In the meantime, you decided his punishment would be your silence, not speaking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then you only spoke a few words.

Caleb was currently in class, it was a Friday so that meant he'd home earlier than the other days.

You didn't have much of a choice as to where you'd be staying, Caleb wanted to make sure you were taking all your medication as well as doing the exercises you were assigned for your rehab, he knew how forgetful you could be, and you were in no condition to be staying on your own. So his solution was to have you stay at his place.

Being there brought back bad memories, but you had made up your mind to talk to him about it. If you were going to be staying here you needed to know where you guys stood in each others lives.

You were currently in his room, wanting to take a nap but your mind was too active for you to relax.

It wasn't long before Caleb came home, not seeing you in the living room he immediately made his way towards his room.

The moment he walked in he relaxed, seeing that you were alright. You saw him and thought,

It's now or never.

"We need to talk."

Caleb's heart dropped, his mind went crazy thinking you were about to break up with him. Although he couldn't blame you for wanting to, but he refused to let you go, you were the only good thing he had in his life, he couldn't afford to lose you. Not before he had a chance to make things right.

"Okay."

He said as calmly as possible, not wanting to give away the immense anxiety he was feeling from this situation.

He walked towards you, kneeling on the ground next to you.

"I'm giving you one chance to explain yourself for that night."

That was all he needed to go on tangent about that night, from the call from MC where she was crying to going to her house and finding out she had been lying to him to get him to spend more time with her instead of you to him and MC having a falling out because of the things she said about you.

He laid it all out, he wasn't proud of the fact that he was so easily fooled by her. He had known her far longer than he had known you, and thought she would never lie to him, boy was he wrong.

"I admit that I have absolutely no excuse for letting myself believe her words. I can't forgive myself for the things I said that night and how I just left you there. It was all my fault."

He took your hands in his, you would've pulled them out of his reach but this time you let him hold them. You could see in his actions and in his eyes how much he regretted that night and how he had been trying everyday to make things right.

"I blame myself for your accident, if I had just stayed with you, if i had never said those words you wouldn't have ended up in this condition."

You had never really seen Caleb cry, so seeing him now in tears as his brain recounted the feeling of seeing you on that hospital bed, had your mind coming to a conclusion.

You were going to give him another chance, his one and only chance. If anything like that happens again you won't stick around, you had enough self respect to not tolerate that.

You removed yours hands from his, Caleb had a look of hurt when you did that, but it didn't last long before you cupped his face, wiping away his tears.

"You get one chance only. Mess up and you'll never see or hear from me again, got it?"

He nodded his head like a child before pulling you to the floor and onto his lap.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck as silent sobs raked his body. You ran a soothing hand through his hair to help him calm down.

It hurt to see him like this, but he also deserved it. Even if it was a fraction of the pain you went through.

"I promise I'll make it up to you. Anything you want, I'll do it."

His voice came out muffled, but you could feel the sincerity in it.

"I'll hold you to that."

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Epilogue (The End)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

And with that, we have reached the end. I could, as always, write a lot more, (And maybe eventually I will, but for right now, that's where we will leave Lando and Lizzie.)

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Twitch Stream Transcript – Max Fewtrell & Lando Norris

[Stream starts]

Max: Right, chat. I know we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve seen things. We’ve survived things. But I don’t think any of you are ready for what’s about to happen.

Max: Because, somehow, defying all expectations, defying all logic—Lando Norris is actually here.

Chat: 

LIAR.

NO WAY.

PROVE IT.

MAX THIS BETTER NOT BE A PRERECORDED AI CLIP.

OH SO HE DOES EXIST.

IT’S BEEN 84 YEARS.

Lando: [over voice chat, deadpan] I hate you.

Max: Gasp. He speaks. It’s real. It’s happening.

Lando: You’re so dramatic.

Max: No, mate, I’m just telling it like it is. The last time we saw you, you were escaping the internet at full speed. Thought you retired. Went off the grid. Became a monk.

Lando: Yeah, well. Things got messy.

Max: Understatement of the year.

Chat: 

YEAH NO KIDDING.

THE INTERNET WAS A NIGHTMARE.

LIZZIE DESERVED BETTER.

MARAAA OUR QUEEN.

THE ABLEISM WAS SO BAD.

LANDO DEFENDING HER >>>

Max: So, how’s Lizzie?

Lando: She’s good. Writing, mostly. And making sure I actually sleep.

Max: A saint.

Lando: Obviously.

Chat: 

PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS.

SHE NEEDS TO KNOW WE LOVE HER.

I WANT TO SEND HER FANMAIL BUT I’M SCARED.

MARA POST WHEN??

TELL LIZZIE SHE’S A QUEEN.

Max: But mate, you really should’ve warned me before hopping on. Nearly had a heart attack.

Lando: Didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

Max: Didn’t think it was—oh my god. Chat, back me up.

Chat: 

IT IS A BIG DEAL.

HISTORIC MOMENT.

LORE DROP.

WE THOUGHT LIZZIE LOGGED YOU OUT FOREVER.

DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER YOUR TWITCH PASSWORD??

SHE PROBABLY DRAGGED HIM BACK HERE.

Lando: Actually, she’s in the kitchen right now.

Max: Oh, is she? What’s she doing?

Lando: Giving Mara peanut butter.

Max: …Oh no.

Lando: Yeah.

(And then, as if on cue, absolute chaos erupts in Lando’s mic—loud licking, snuffling, something knocking against furniture. A thump. A very happy dog making a complete racket.)

Max: WHAT IS HAPPENING.

Lando: [muffled laughter] She’s going feral.

Max: CHAT, DO YOU HEAR THIS?

Chat: 

MARAAA.

SHE’S EATING LIKE SHE HASN’T BEEN FED IN YEARS.

DOG ASMR STREAM WHEN.

THAT’S THE SOUND OF A QUEEN ENJOYING LIFE.

SHE DESERVES EVERY BIT OF THAT PEANUT BUTTER.

Max: Mate. Your dog is losing it.

Lando: She loves peanut butter.

Max: Yeah, no kidding. It sounds like she’s wrestling it.

Lando: Wouldn’t surprise me.

Max: I swear, chat’s gonna riot if you don’t post a Mara video soon.

Lando: I’ll think about it.

Max: Think about it? No, mate, you don’t understand. Mara is the people’s princess.

Chat: 

MARA FOR PRESIDENT.

SHE DESERVES THE WORLD.

THE WAY SHE’S JUST EXISTING AND WE’RE ALL LOSING IT.

THIS IS NOW A MARA FAN STREAM.

GIRLBOSS.

Max: You could literally disappear again for months, but if you drop one single Mara clip, all will be forgiven.

Lando: Huh. Good to know.

Max: Don’t even pretend like you won’t exploit that.

Lando: [grinning] Wouldn’t dream of it.

(Mara, still licking peanut butter, lets out an extremely content sigh.)

Max: Oh, that was adorable.

Lando: Yeah, she’s great.

Max: I can feel chat melting over this.

Chat: 

SHE’S SO PRECIOUS.

LIZZIE AND MARA HARD CARRYING THE CONTENT RIGHT NOW.

MARA POST WHEN.

WE DON’T DESERVE HER.

SHE’S SO REAL FOR THIS.

Max: Right. Now that we’ve all had our emotional moment over Mara’s peanut butter obsession, shall we actually play the game?

Lando: Probably.

Max: But just so we’re clear—this stream peaked the moment Mara showed up.

Lando: Yeah, I figured.

(Chat spams heart emojis as the game finally begins.)

***

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car PrinceBy June Shepard

Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton has built an empire on love stories—intoxicating, sweeping, heart-stopping love stories that have made her one of the most successful romantasy authors of the decade. Her Seasons of Fate series, a four-book saga filled with magic, intrigue, and forbidden romance, has captivated millions worldwide, cementing her place as the reigning queen of the genre.

But even her most devoted readers could never have predicted that she was living out a love story of her own. And certainly not with one of the biggest stars in motorsport.

When Lizzie Treshton walked into the Silverstone paddock in July 2025, hand-in-hand with McLaren’s Lando Norris, social media imploded.

No one had any idea they were together. No rumors, no leaks—just an earth-shattering confirmation that sent both F1 and romantasy Twitter into collective cardiac arrest.

"It wasn’t supposed to be a big thing," Treshton says now, curled up on a sofa in her Surrey flat, a steaming mug of tea in hand. "Lando was racing at Silverstone. I wanted to be there to support him. I didn’t think the world would explode."

Perhaps that was naive. Because if there’s one thing the world loves, it’s an unexpected crossover. And this? This was the ultimate crossover event.

Lando Norris has spent the last six years in the high-pressure world of Formula 1, balancing blistering lap times with an ever-growing fanbase that adores his mix of raw talent, easy charm, and chaotic humor. He’s no stranger to public scrutiny. But even he was caught off guard by the sheer scale of the reaction.

"I knew Lizzie was a big deal," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "But I didn’t fully grasp it until people started calling me ‘the romantasy book boyfriend of the year.’"

He grins. "I think my sisters are still mad I didn’t tell them who I was dating."

That particular detail has only added to the legend of "Lizzie & Lando." While Norris’s family knew he had a girlfriend, they had no idea it was that Lizzie Treshton—the very same author whose books they had lined up at midnight to buy. His sisters, self-proclaimed romantasy fanatics, took approximately thirty seconds to forgive him before launching into full-scale fangirl mode.

But not everyone has been as welcoming.

Almost immediately after Silverstone, the backlash began. While plenty of fans celebrated the unexpected pairing, others turned vicious. Some called Treshton “undeserving.” Others dismissed the relationship entirely, claiming Norris would eventually move on.

And then there were the ones who went after her health.

Treshton has always been open about living with epilepsy, discussing it occasionally in interviews and social media posts. But being open about something and having it dissected by millions of strangers are two very different things.

Some reactions were cruel—questioning Norris’s commitment, making sweeping judgments about Treshton’s ability to “keep up” with the fast-paced, jet-setting lifestyle of an F1 driver. Others were outright ableist, using her condition as a reason to doubt her place at his side.

Norris, uncharacteristically sharp in his response, took to Instagram. “The way some of you have spoken about Liz—the woman I love—is disgusting. There’s no other way to put it. You’ve taken something she has no control over and used it as an excuse to dehumanize her, to insult her, to act like she isn’t worthy of me.” 

McLaren issued a formal statement condemning the backlash, while much of the grid rallied behind Treshton, with drivers like Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc publicly voicing their support.

“It was disgusting,” Treshton says bluntly. “But not surprising.”

"I’ve lost people because of my epilepsy," Treshton says quietly, her fingers tightening around her mug. "People who couldn’t handle it. People who didn’t want to try."

Her mother was one of them.

Treshton doesn’t often talk about her mother, but when she does, it’s with a detachment that speaks of wounds long since buried. "She left when I was young," she says. "Said she couldn’t deal with it. So she didn’t."

She exhales slowly. "I learned early on that some people see epilepsy as an inconvenience. Like it makes you fragile. But it doesn’t make me less. And it sure as hell doesn’t make me unlovable."

Despite the backlash, Treshton and Norris remain unfazed. Their relationship, built away from the public eye, is stronger than the noise that surrounds it.

"Lando makes me feel safe," she admits. "Not in a way that makes me feel like I need protecting, but in a way that reminds me I don’t have to do everything alone."

For Norris, it’s simple. "She’s incredible," he says. "And I’m lucky to have her. End of story."

There’s something almost cinematic about the two of them. The bestselling author who spins love stories for a living. The racing driver who defies speed and gravity every weekend. It’s the kind of pairing that shouldn’t make sense. And yet, it does.

At the end of the day, theirs isn’t just a love story. It’s a story about resilience. About belonging. About choosing each other in a world that constantly tries to tear people down.

When asked what’s next, Treshton shrugs. “I have a book to finish. He has races to win. And beyond that?” She tilts her head, thoughtful. “I think we’ll just keep surprising people.”

One thing is clear: the queen of romantasy and her race car prince are far from a fleeting fairytale.

They’re just getting started.

****

8 December 2024, Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

The moment Lando stepped out of the car, the world blurred around him. The cheers, the McLaren team swarming in orange, the fireworks—none of it felt real. He had won Abu Dhabi. He had won the Constructors’ Championship for McLaren. After years of dreaming, of heartbreak, of being so close yet so far—he had done it.

His mother reached him first, arms tight around his shoulders, holding him like she never wanted to let go. “Lando,” she breathed, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You’ve made so many people happy today.”

His father clapped a firm hand on his back, pride evident in his expression. His team, his engineers, Zak Brown—everyone was celebrating around him. But Lando was already searching for someone else.

And then he saw her.

Lizzie stood off to the side, wrapped in one of his McLaren jackets, Mara sitting dutifully at her feet. She looked exhausted, and he knew why. Just last night, she had suffered a seizure. He had been with her through it, waiting for the worst to pass. He had told her she didn’t have to come today, that she should stay at the hotel and rest.

But Lizzie was nothing if not stubborn.

Her gaze found his, and her face lit up like the fireworks lighting the sky outside.

He could see how tired she was, though, in the tightness around her eyes, the way her body was still a little stiff.

But she was here.

His feet moved before his brain caught up, and suddenly, she was in front of him, her hands reaching up to his face before he could say a word.

Her fingers traced over his skin, her tired eyes taking him in with a familiar, almost reverent look. It was as if she couldn’t believe he was real. Lando knew the feeling.

“Like I ever would have missed this,” she murmured before he could scold her for being out in the chaos of the paddock. Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones, her voice thick with emotion. “Lando, you did it. You actually did it.”

"You didn't need to come," he whispered. His hands came to rest on her waist, grounding himself. “I was worried about you.”

“And I was never going to miss watching you win,” she said simply, smiling up at him. “I am so proud of you.”

Lando let out a shaky breath.

Then, with the whole world watching, he kissed her.

It was soft, careful—his hands tightening on her waist like he was terrified she might disappear, like he still wasn’t sure if any of this was real. When he pulled back, her eyes were shining, and for the first time since he crossed the finish line, it hit him.

He had everything he had ever wanted.

****

Dedications of The Seasons of Fate: 

A Spring of Secrets and Thorns

For Mara—

My steady ground, my quiet guardian, my fiercest protector.

For every unseen battle you’ve helped me fight, for every moment you’ve kept me safe, and for always being by my side—this book, like so much of my life, is possible because of you.

A Summer of Blood and Bloom

For Dad—

For every doctor’s appointment, every sleepless night, and every time you carried the weight of the world so I wouldn’t have to.

You taught me that love doesn’t walk away—it stays, it fights, and it endures. This book is a testament to that, and to you.

An Autumn of Fire and Stone

For Tasha and Aunt Lou—

For the sister I chose and the woman who made us family.

For every page read, every dream encouraged, and every time you reminded me that I was more than my worst days. I am who I am because I had you both beside me. I couldn’t have done this without you.

A Winter of Ash and Starlight

For Lando - 

Who taught me that love, like speed, can take your breath away in an instant. You’ve turned the pages of my life in the most unexpected, beautiful way. 

Thank you for showing me that sometimes the best stories are the ones you never saw coming. 

Ours is my favourite one. 

Acknowledgments – A Winter of Ash and Starlight

Writing this book, and really this entire series, has been one of the greatest joys of my life. I never imagined that a story I started one summer in my dad’s garden would turn into this, but here we are. I couldn’t have done it alone, and I wouldn’t have wanted to.

To my dad—thank you for everything. For the late-night talks, the endless encouragement, and the way you always made sure I knew I was enough, just as I am. You’ve been my rock, my biggest supporter, and the reason I never stopped believing I could do this.

To Aunt Lou—you are proof that family is about love, not blood. You didn’t have to be a mother to me, but chose to be anyway. I don’t have the words to properly thank you for that, but I hope you know how much I love you.

To Tasha—my sister in every way that matters. For always having my back, for every chaotic adventure, and for making sure I never forget who I am. You are my favorite person to cause trouble with.

To Mara—my best girl, my constant companion, my real-life guardian angel. You have been curled up beside me through every late-night writing session, every deadline panic, every high and low.  There is no version of my life, or this book, without you in it.

This book marks the end of Astrid and Ciaran’s journey—the last chapter of their love story. And in a way, it closes a chapter of my own life, too. Love has a funny way of finding you when you least expect it, and just as I was bringing Astrid and Ciaran home, someone walked into my life and changed everything.

To Lando—who came into my life just as I was closing this chapter and somehow became the best story of all. I don’t know if fate is real, but if it is, I think it was always meant to bring me to you. You walked into my world when I wasn’t sure I deserved something good, and you have never let me forget that I do. 

Thank you for every quiet moment and every inside joke. Thank you for the dino nuggets, the peanut butter and the Ferrari Dog Bandanas. Thank you for making me laugh, for making me feel safe, and for proving, every single day, that love isn’t about grand gestures, but about showing up, time and time again. 

You have been the greatest plot twist of my life. I love you. 

And finally, to the readers—thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for believing in Astrid and Ciaran, in fate and magic, in love that defies the odds. This world, this story, exists because of you.

Here’s to new stories, new adventures, and finding our own kind of magic. Always.

With love and endless gratitude, Elizabeth Louise Treshton

The End

[dependell]

You said racism is something that harms minorities. Sounds like classic leftist rhetoric, that minorities can only ever be the victims. Obviously that makes no sense.

Remember when I said to become a leftist you have to sacrifice a bit of your ego? Part of that that can be especially hard for white people is accepting that racism, especially in America, is an institutional problem which affects primarily minorities, and which white people generally benefit from, even if passively. The defenses and rejections this idea spawns are understandable, but you don't actually have anything you need to absolve yourself of. Accepting that America has a long history of white supremaicst thought does not mean you, as a white person, bear original sin or anything. It's not your fault that the bozos who built this country hundreds of years before you were born thought it was okay to treat people with a different skin color as a less evolved sub-species of the European man. You are not a bad person because America suffers from institutional racism. You are only a bad person if you defend and uphold those injustices.

And yes, racial injustice still exists. We are not as far removed from the Civil Rights movement as we like to think. Joe Biden was alive during it. Donald Trump was alive during it. We have plenty of crisp color photographs. Within living memory this country did not grant black people the same rights as white people, and within living memory there was violent resistance from racists to the idea of black integration. You would be foolish to believe all of these problems disappeared the moment the Civil Rights Act was signed.

I also completely disagree that leftists are required to accept that they are possible racists. The white ones are, but anyone who’s non-white is never required to do that.

Oh, I've seen plenty of racist black people. Sometimes my Xhitter feed thinks I'm a black woman for a few days and just puts tweets from what I can only call "black twitter" on my feed. When this happens, often I'll come across threads of black women going off about how white people are parasites, or one of those silly conspiracists rambling about how ancient Egyptians were black or whatever.

They're silly. Of course they're silly. But you know what they're not? Hurting anybody. If a black woman you don't know and will never know wants to call all white people the Devil, how's that going to affect you?

Meanwhile, if your name sounds "too black," the AI filtering algorithms every HR department uses these days will auto-dismiss your job application, and you won't get that house loan even if your credit is spectacular.

A leftist calling someone a racist is very seldom a call out to present a learning opportunity. It’s almost always an opportunity for that person to put down others and to elevate themselves as a more morally virtuous and socially aware leftist. They will couch that motivation by bringing up the “learning opportunity” as a way to thinly veil the attack and as a way to bully that person into accepting that they deserve what’s happening.

So this is a long spiel about "virtue signaling" and "cancel culture" both things I tapped out of giving a shit about a few years ago. This kind of feels like, I dunno, 2015 era rhetoric? This is stale and musty. "Virtue signaling" has done a lot of damage to honest political discussions, because now, if you don't want to engage with someone's views, you can just say they're doing it for attention. Wonderful! We also all live in a simulation so nothing matters at all and you may as well jump off a bridge or something. It's a dead-end. If you won't even accept that someone's beliefs are their actual beliefs, then what are we even debating?

As for "bullying people into accepting that they deserve what's happening" I'll be the first to say that internet mob justice is not a good thing. I don't much care for sending people death threats, and I don't understand what joy other people find in wasting their time harassing people on the internet. I don't have much else to contribute here, you're just sort of describing to me what you imagine a leftist to be.

Why should I assume that the person making the call out is correct?

You shouldn't. Of course you should think for yourself. Just blindly following what other people tell you is the exact opposite of what most leftists would want you to do. Critical thought is very important, especially when it comes to examining your own biases.

You just said that we can’t even fully know ourselves but I should listen and accept that a stranger over the internet has something to say about whether or not I might be racist? If we can’t fully know ourselves then knowing another person is surely impossible.

Your perspective of your own self is often clouded by your own biases. We are our own worst critics, you have to spend every day with yourself, so you develop very particular ideas about what kind of person you are. Not to say that you should care too much about how you are perceived by others, but I'd say if you considered yourself not a racist, but every third person you spoke to called you a racist, that's a pattern. You can choose to think about it, wonder if you really are harboring racist ideas you didn't even know were racist. Or you can ignore it and say that everyone else is wrong, and/or a "triggered leftist". I can't control your life.

What makes the leftist in any situation an authority on any of this stuff? Why should anyone listen to them? How do we know they aren’t racist themselves? After all if it’s subtle and you could be racist without even realizing, how do leftists know they aren’t the racists?

Nobody makes a leftist an authority. Leftism isn't right by virtue of simply being right, or by heavenly decree. They're just ideas, that people can research, and choose to believe and fight for. People choose to listen to them only if they want to, only if they think those ideas will create a better world for them, their fellow humans, and future generations.

As to the question about leftists being racist themselves... yeah! A really interesting thing is to look at the history of progressivism and anti-racism. There are some groundbreaking films from the civil rights era which broach the subject of racial equality with surprising confidence... and through a modern lens they can often be surprisingly racist in their depictions. Discerning what is and isn't racist, or affected in some way by racism, is a constant learning process that involves a lot of history and research. We are always trying to challenge our own pre-conceived notions about the world. Like language, the understanding of race and racism evolves over time.

In that you might see a scary moving target, but it's really not that. Because again, to label something as racist, or affected by racism, is not to condemn it completely and label it bereft of value. Those old 1960s civil rights films are still extremely important and valuable. There's lots of queer cinema dating back to the black and white days that can be hilariously offensive, but they are all still important parts of queer history. Bigotry is just a part of humanity as a whole, and a leftist simply sees value in being able to recognize racism, acknowledge it, and try to be better than it. Not because we want to signal our virtues, but because we would like to live in a world with as little racism as possible - who knows, maybe even no racism, someday! Wouldn't that be cool? Not in our lifetimes though probably, certainly not with discount mussolini in office going after DEI like it's a cancer.

One of the problems the left has is that they never ask why people disagree with them.

They call that person a racist or misogynist or whatever disparaging thing they want and then claim victory.

But that doesn’t explain anything. Is that person really just a one dimensional cartoon villain that can be summarized with one word?

Good luck trying to grow a political movement by refusing to understand your opposition, or understand what motivates people in the middle.

[glitter-stained]

Look I don't like RHATO #25 for many reasons but if you're gonna talk about the beatdown and you don't like it you can just say "that issue had terrible writing" or "that's not my batman he would never do that"

You don't have to defend him, this isn't his first instance of abuse with any of his children or jason in particular but he's such a big and old character I understand not wanting to see him being an abusive parent ever (though in that case I advise you to just not engage in his and Jason's mainline relationship at all, at the very least not red hood!jason)

What does really really grate me though, is people trying to defend it because those reasonings are so hypocritical it's clear they just don't like the way Jason's character challenges the bat-status quo and that ends up literally just being abuse justification rhetoric again and again and I'm tired. If you're gonna be a hater can you not do it in a way that makes you sound like the parent who stands to the side watching their partner "discipline" the kid with a belt because "the kid is a bad kid that deserves to be punished."

-well batman is a hero and Jason is a criminal what was he supposed to do he can't play favourites! So, I call Batman a hero when he acts like it but sure, Batman is a vigilante. He fights criminals. Have y'all ever heard of this little term called "conflict of interest"? Yk when your personal connection to the case you're working means you are more likely to lose your cool and let your emotions affect your judgement beyond measure so it's important to delegate? That thing? Batman is always showing up in everyone's comic, the outlaws can have some reinforcement being called to handle Jason's case for once this is absurd, Bruce is more compromised than the cia agent i've been pegging for months in exchange for data. Fathers shouldn't have to arrest their sons.

-well Jason deserved it! Punitive justice, especially fucking punitive violence, is the enemy. It doesn't work for children and it doesn't work on adults and it's a ridiculous approach to harm reduction and recidivism prevention. Well, killing might work, but i don't reckon rhato#25 batman defenders would defend this*. I understand the cathartic appeal of wanting to see fictional characters you dislike punished, really, and the desire for vengeance in the form of punitive justice is normal and perfectly understandable; but however valid this emotion is, that doesn't mean actually enacting this brutality becomes the correct course of actions. Idk how else to say it but however evil you think the victim is it's still not okay to victim-blame. And sure, I can tell fiction from reality and know this isn't a real person, but when people say stuff like that it still tells me that the person who is saying this stuff believes that it's not abuse if the victim is evil. And when you're there, it only takes a bit of cognitive bias and dissonance and carefully worded narrative bending for the victim to be categorised evil and denied the respect of their pain.

(*this isn't about the death penalty. I do not support state violence)

People are so concerned with hating Jason's character and wanting to see him punished for his crimes they will bend things backwards to justify that a father brutally beating down his son in an extremely vulnerable moment while the son doesn't fight back isn't abuse because the character is inherently bad and thus deserves to be violently punished. And then we wonder why victims blame themselves or explain "it's different because it's me so the situation is unique, i'm a special case because i'm wrong", when this is the classic mentality in our societies.

Truly a mystery indeed

[meadowfics]

funerals

husband!father!kang dae ho x f!wife!mother!reader

this is apart of my 'kang family' series

warnings: death, angst, childhood trauma (again I know sorry), new permanent character dropped.

the heat felt different back in your home country. not in a bad way, it was just unfamiliar. it is thick and humid in a way that clung to your skin, whispering reminders of a childhood you barely remembered.

you stood outside the chapel, your black dress clinging slightly to your waist as a soft breeze drifted past. it smelled like grass, like wildflowers growing in the cracks of the sidewalk. beside you, dae-ho stood quietly, his hand resting against the small of your back, his other hand holding your carry-on bag from the rented car.

you never imagined you would ever be back here. not like this.

just two days ago, you were home, your real home now back in south korea, laughing with seo-ah as she painted tigger stripes on dae-ho’s face with a makeup brush, rocking byeol to sleep after another late-night feeding, sipping warm barley tea while folding laundry. it was supposed to be a normal week.

suddenly, the call came.

a voice from your past. a distant cousin who thought you had vanished years ago, who believed the rumors that you, like your mother and older sister, were gone. however, she found you on facebook. when she did, she sent you a message which told you something you hadn’t prepared for.

your father was dead.

you hadn’t seen him since you were six years old. an entire lifetime ago. a time when your mother grabbed your wrist and pulled you through airport security with nothing but two small suitcases and a promise you didn’t understand.  

you never saw him again.

you didn’t cry. you didn’t scream. you just stared at the text message.  

when you told dae-ho, his reaction was immediate.  

“we’ll go,” he said, without hesitation. your husband noticed the urgency in your eyes.

“the girls?”  

“jia can watch them. she’d be happy to.”  

now here you were in your home country, standing on foreign soil that still knew your name.  

you felt strange. not empty, but not full either. just… somewhere in between.

dae-ho glanced at you, squeezing your waist gently, “you okay?”

you nodded, unsure if it was a lie or not, “i think so.”

he looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable but warm, “you don’t have to be. not here.”

you breathed in slowly.  

“i don’t remember him,” you admitted, “not really. just flashes. just his laugh, the smell of his coffee. how he’d lift me up after work even if he looked so tired.”

dae-ho didn’t speak. he only pulled you in closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. the silence was respectful. grounding.

“i’m not sad,” you said again, softly, “i think i’m mourning the idea of him more than the real person. the dad i wish i could’ve known. i always wondered if he looked for me. if he missed me.”

dae-ho pressed a kiss to your temple, “i’m sure he did.”

you didn’t say anything else. all you did was stare at the doors ahead. the thing is that mourning someone you barely knew wasn’t like the grief you felt when you lost others. it was quieter. more complicated. a bruise instead of a break.  

yet, it still ached because this was the man you should have had. this was the goodbye you never expected since you already said goodbye before.

the air inside the funeral service hall was thick. it is not just with incense and whispers, but with something heavier. memory. grief. time.

you stood beside daeho in silence, staring at the rows of mourners in disbelief. you expected no more than a dozen people, maybe less. it stunned you to see how many had come. there is maybe a hundred people. there were old men in suits, women in traditional dress, young adults clinging to handkerchiefs, their eyes red. the space was warm with presence with history.

it felt foreign to you.

your mother’s funeral had been a formality. three coworkers of hers. no eulogies. no warmth. your sister’s... slightly more. a few classmates, polite nods. no one stayed long. it all felt empty.

this?

this felt... full and heavy with love. as if the man in that open casket had touched the lives of everyone in this room.

you couldn’t speak. you didn’t know how to make sense of this man who was yours, and yet — wasn’t. a father you hadn’t seen since you were six. a man your mother demonized until the very end.

your heart pounded as you slowly approached the casket, unsure why you even wanted to see him. you left daeho by the seats as you approached the casket alone… maybe you wanted closure. maybe proof. the whispers of the crowd faded into white noise.

there he was.

your breath caught. you stopped at the foot of the casket.

your father.

of course his face had changed, but not unrecognizably. he is older, softer. silver streaks in his hair, the creases around his eyes deeper, carved by years you hadn’t witnessed but his jaw, his lips… it was yours. that familiar bone structure that your mother used to curse when she looked at you.

he looked peaceful now like he was somewhere better. maybe he had already been there in the years you missed.

you just stood there, absorbing him. the version of him who might have changed. grown. healed.

suddenly, a quiet presence moved close beside you.

you glanced over, expecting a stranger, maybe someone paying their respects.

the young man standing beside you was not a stranger, not quite. the boy’s eyes were rimmed with red, a stubborn tear threatening to fall as he stared down at the same face.

he didn’t look at you. not yet.

he just murmured, mostly to himself, “he was the strongest man i’ve ever known.”

your eyes flicked to him. he couldn’t have been older than twenty years old. he is tall, with a kind face and a grief that hung around him like a second skin.

“according to my mom, he used to drink a lot,” the boy added quietly, “he told me that he lost everything before i was born but then he got clean and built his life again. everything you see here... he did it all over from scratch.”

your throat tightened. something raw twisted in your chest.

“i wish i got to know him,” you whispered.

the next words would break you. the boy will say it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“yeah… my dad was amazing.”

your breath stopped and everything in your body went still.

you turned to him slowly, heart thudding like thunder in your ears.

“…dad?”

he looked at you now, confused, blinking.

“yes. this was my dad,” he said again, softer this time like he could see the tremble in your lip. he didn’t understand the weight of the word he’d just used.

you didn’t speak for a few seconds.

you just looked at him, this boy with your father’s eyes, with something soft and unsteady building in your chest. your hands trembled at your sides. a hundred emotions collided at once: grief, disbelief, awe, envy. something unspoken cracked open.

voice breaking, you said:

“he was my dad too.”

the boy’s breath caught.

those eyebrows furrowed, and his lips parted like he was about to speak, but didn’t. he stared at you for a long moment, and then something clicked in his eyes. recognition. realization. memory, maybe or a whisper of a photo he had once seen.

“…are you y/n?” he asked.

you nodded, barely able to form the word.

he swallowed hard, “he told me he had two daughters. my older half-sisters but... he thought you were gone.”

you exhaled shakily, a tear finally slipping down your cheek.

“i’m still here,” you said, “mi... she passed away thirteen years ago but i’m here.”

he looked away for a second, emotions storming in his face. he nodded slowly.

“i’m ezra,” he said, “i… always wanted to meet you.”

you tried to speak, but another wave of emotion rose up in your throat, choking you. you reached for something to steady yourself…but it was daeho’s hand that found yours first.

he had come up behind you quietly, watching. his eyes darted between you and ezra with silent concern.

“is everything alright?” daeho asked gently.

you looked at him, your hand still in ezra’s.

“daeho,” you said, voice thick, “this is ezra. my… my um… brother.”

something soft shifted in daeho’s face. surprise, but not shock. warmth. quiet understanding. he gave ezra a small nod, then looked at you with nothing but love.

ezra gave a small smile.

“do you both want to talk outside?” he asked.

you nodded.

together, the three of you stepped out into the light. your heart was full of everything you never thought you’d get… and all the things you’d still have to work through.

the sun hung low over the distant skyline, its golden light filtering through the trees that framed the edges of the cemetery. you sat on the bench quietly beside ezra and daeho, the late afternoon breeze brushing softly against your skin, warm enough to feel like some strange comfort in all of this. 

your hands were resting on your lap, fingers locked together tightly…until daeho slid his hand over yours, gently loosening them.

ezra leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he exhaled through his nose. 

"dad told me that he met my mom maybe five years after you left," he started, his voice steadier than it had been inside. 

"they met at this hardware shop she was working at. he was still rebuilding his life back then, but he was... really different already."

you blinked slowly, processing.

"he was clean. sober. had been for over a year when they met. he was trying to build this business from scratch. something with woodworking and furniture, he was really good at it. said it helped him stay grounded."

you stayed quiet, listening, feeling every word land with more and more weight.

you remembered your mom talking about dad working with renovations and stuff.

"i was born a year after they got married," ezra continued. "it was always just us three. he... he was amazing, y/n. like, breakfast every morning, dad jokes, helping me with math even though he sucked at it," he chuckled softly, and the sound pierced through your heart like light through a crack, "he was there. all the time. even when he got sick. he still found a way to show up for me.”

you swallowed hard, nodding slowly, but the tears were there…just barely held back.

this wasn’t the man your mother screamed about when you were a kid. this wasn’t the monster she told you to hate. this wasn’t the man she said didn’t love you. this man? this version? this father? he could have been yours. if she hadn’t taken you away. if she hadn’t made you believe you weren’t wanted.

"y/n..." daeho murmured beside you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he noticed your silence shift. your eyes shimmered with that soft, hollow ache, and he already knew.

you had missed out on so much.

"i'm sorry," ezra said softly, eyes catching the slight tremble in your lip, "i... didn’t mean to make you upset. i just thought you should know. he talked about you. both of you. he thought you were gone. not... dead, just unreachable. i don’t even think he knew about mi’s death."

you took a breath, voice finally escaping, "i wish i could’ve known him like that."

he was still an alcoholic when he was still with your mother. ezra didn’t speak, only nodded gently in understanding.

daeho shifted slightly beside you, offering his presence like he always did…quiet and strong. he could see the similarities now. ezra’s eyes held the same peace yours did when you were content. the boy’s jawline had the same curve. 

when he smiled, even for that brief moment, it was the same small, lopsided smile you gave when something made your heart flutter.

"how’s life in korea?" ezra asked, trying to ease the mood, to distract from the grief welling in both of your chests.

you looked up, clearing your throat gently, "it wasn’t easy. my mom forced us there when i was six. it was a new language, new everything. i didn’t know anyone, and... she wasn’t the best."

daeho looked over at you softly. he knew what that meant. what you didn’t say. what you’d lived through.

"but i made it," you continued, your voice lifting just slightly, "i survived. i live in a quiet town just twenty minutes outside of seoul now. it’s calm. beautiful, actually. i’ve got a little home with a garden, and my husband..." you glanced at daeho, smiling faintly, "he makes it all feel like home. i have two daughters now. seo-ah, she’s four and a half and byeol, she's just six months."

ezra's face lit up for the first time that day, his eyes softening with wonder. 

"nieces?" he said with a little grin, the first real one.

you nodded, "they’re happy girls. they’re with their aunt right now, daeho’s sister. they’re everything to me."

"what are they like?"

you laughed, "seo-ah’s this fearless ball of sunshine. she loves soccer, climbing trees, getting her clothes dirty. byeol’s still tiny, but she’s calm. observant. i think she’s gonna be the thinker."

ezra beamed, "sounds like they have a really good mom."

you didn’t know what to say to that. your throat tightened, but you smiled softly, blinking back the sting in your eyes. 

"thank you," you whispered.

after a beat, ezra asked quietly, "what... was mi like? i mean, before..."

your heart sank slightly.

you folded your hands again, fingers nervous. “mi was... really creative. she was into everything. music, art, theater. she had this spark when we were kids…always dancing around, talking about dreams. she had a huge laugh. too loud for school plays. but she was... she was so bright.”

you didn’t want to tell ezra the downsides to having your older sister in your life… it just wasn’t the time to do so.

ezra smiled, listening.

"she struggled," you added, "she had a lot of pain that went unnoticed. untreated. our mom... didn’t make it easy and when mi passed, it felt like the world just got quieter."

he nodded, absorbing the weight of it.

"she didn’t die from sickness like dad," you added softly, "she took her own life and my mom... she died the year after. bone cancer. it was a lot."

"i’m sorry," ezra said again, his voice thick, "i didn’t mean to open old wounds."

"it’s okay," you said, finally reaching out to rest your hand on his arm, "i think... this was meant to happen. us meeting. maybe not in the way i hoped, but still. we just met but i am happy to have met you, ezra"

daeho looked over at you, his eyes holding nothing but admiration. this woman beside him… who had survived so much, who loved so hard despite everything, who now sat beside her newest discovery aka her younger brother like a tether to a family she thought she had lost. you are the bravest person he knew.

ezra nodded, then smiled, “you know, when you first walked in... i thought i recognized you. you have his eyes. i guess i do too.”

you turned to him, really looked at him.

"yeah. you do."

you stayed there a while longer. the sky slowly turning orange as the sun dipped lower, the breeze gentle. there were so many holes in the past you’d never be able to fill but this, this moment, felt like stitching something back together. a start. a piece of healing you never knew you needed.

back inside the funeral home, the walls seemed quieter now, as if the weight of grief had settled into the air and hushed every whisper into something sacred. the scent of incense still lingered, and the soft murmur of conversations blended with the slow piano music humming in the background. 

you walked back through the door, daeho by your side, as ezra gently motioned for someone to come over.

from what you could guess, it was her. ezra’s mother. your father’s wife.

the woman’s hazel eyes widened softly as she approached, her footsteps slow, almost reverent. she looked at you with something between disbelief and recognition, as if the ghost of someone long ago had stepped into her present day.

“oh my goodness, y/n!” she pulled you into a hug. you hugged her back as if you’ve known about her for a very long time except for an hour ago.

“you look just like him,” she whispered, hand over her heart, her voice trembling with emotion, “so beautiful.”

your heart clenched at those words. your mother had never looked at you like this woman just did…not with awe, not with kindness. your voice came out quieter than intended. 

“it’s... nice to meet you.”

she nodded slowly, studying you, “i always saw you in the old photos. you and your sister. your father… he never stopped loving you both. he always said he hoped one day he’d find a way to see you again. we even tried searching once when you would've been thirteen years old but there wasn’t much to go off of.”

you nodded, your throat tightening.

suddenly came that question, inevitable and soft, “is your sister here?”

you froze for a second, but ezra quietly murmured, “mom…”

you placed a hand on his arm and gently shook your head.

“no,” you said, “she’s not here. she passed away thirteen years ago.”

the woman’s face fell. she sighed, her voice a breath, “i’m so sorry. she was my stepdaughter too, even if we never met. i still hoped…”

you nodded in silence, your heart heavy. the woman’s eyes lifted behind you, and her expression warmed as she noticed daeho.

“and who is this?” she asked gently.

you turned slightly. 

“my husband,” you said softly, almost proudly, “this is daeho, kang dae-ho.”

she smiled as she extended her hand to him. 

“her father would’ve loved you,” she told him, with such certainty it made your eyes sting, “he really would’ve. i don’t know you that well but he wanted her to have someone strong, someone kind. you have that face.”

“thank you,” daeho said, bowing slightly as he shook her hand, “that means a lot.”

ezra walked away to linger near the casket again, and something pulled you back toward it with him, to that space where your father lay peaceful, untouched by pain. you moved slowly, your heels silent against the polished floor. 

the tears you had been holding since your arrival threatened now to spill over, the closer you got.

you stood beside your half-brother, eyes scanning your father’s face. he really was gone. and suddenly, it wasn’t just a man lying in a casket…it was all the years you never got. all the birthdays missed, the comfort that could’ve been yours, the warmth of a father you never got to meet again, not as an adult. not as a mother. not as someone who had healed so much, only to discover another piece missing.

your tears fell. slow at first, then steady. your hand rose to your mouth, as if to keep them inside, but it was no use.

ezra looked over, unsure, until you turned toward him and opened your arms. he didn’t hesitate. he stepped into your embrace, arms tight around you, like two people trying to hold each other together when the world had shifted beneath their feet.

you held him like you always wanted to be held as a child…safe. close. known. you hoped ezra had that. to say you were happy for your father’s growth would be an understatement. he had done what so few men did… he had changed to become better and to become loved.

goodness, how you wished you had seen it. you wished you heard him laugh again. you wished you could’ve watched him rebuild, even from the sidelines.

you wished seo-ah and byeol could’ve met him and love him as their grandpa.

“i missed him,” you whispered into ezra’s shoulder, “i missed him before i even knew the version of him you got to love.”

“he would’ve been so proud of you,” ezra said back, just as quiet, “he always said... he hoped you were okay and that he hoped... wherever you were, you had peace.”

your knees nearly gave out at that, but daeho was there, behind you now, sliding his arm around your waist, steadying you.

you had survived a hell he never knew. your father had lived a redemption you never got to see.

yet somehow, through different roads, you had both made it to love. you, with your husband and your babies. your dad, with a family and a second chance.

you knew things happened for a reason. standing there now, holding onto a newfound brother, a grieving son, and the ghost of a father who’d once lost you... you finally understood how much you’d missed him and how, maybe, you still had time to reclaim what pieces you could. not from him, but from the family that remained, from ezra. 

you stood near the casket a few more moments after the embrace with ezra, your fingers lightly brushing along the edge of the polished wood as you tried to memorize the lines of your father’s face. 

even in death, he held a presence that felt far away but deeply familiar, like a song you knew from childhood but could no longer remember the lyrics to.

unfortunately, your mind wandered.

yes, back to those games. back to those cold dorms. you remember the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. the stifling scent of sweat, fear, bleach, and blood thick in the air. it was the third night after red light, green light, and everyone was still shaken. 

daeho had collapsed that night, trembling with the kind of fear that words couldn’t reach. you’d held him against your chest, your hand over his back, trying to ground him through the waves of his panic. your man’s tears had soaked into your shirt, and your free hand had brushed the strands of his hair back as he finally fell asleep, trembling less with each second.

you hadn’t been able to sleep.

instead, you’d looked up at the massive glowing piggy bank suspended above the dorms. so much money hanging above your heads, as if it were meant to make the blood and death seem worth it. 

your eyes locked onto the glass, staring at the way the gold shimmered, and suddenly, the thought struck you so violently that it nearly stole your breath.

your father… was my father alive?

it had been so long since you thought of him in any real way. your mother had painted him as the devil. during those games that night… standing there, alone, surrounded by strangers who would kill for cash… you’d remembered a moment. you remembered a a warm voice and a hand helping you into your shoes as a child. a man who didn’t seem cruel at all. you cried that night. you hadn’t cried for him since you were a little girl. you did then, alone, while daeho slept beside you in the dark. 

you cried wondering if he was dead. if he’d ever searched for you. if he even remembered your name. now, here you were looking into the eyes of a young man he raised, a son who’d gotten everything you wanted. he got love, and comfort. everything you thought you’d never find.

ezra was scrolling through his phone now, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled up his contacts. he handed it to you, and you added your number quietly.

“here,” you whispered, your voice thick, “just in case.”

he smiled faintly, then looked at daeho, “can i add you too?”

“of course,” daeho said, already reaching for his own phone, “you’re family.”

ezra swallowed at those words. he blinked quickly like he was holding back emotion, nodding as he accepted it.

“thank you,” he said softly.

“do you go to university?” you asked, sitting beside him on the bench again, “i don’t want to bother you at any time, especially with the time zone difference between here and korea if you have a busy schedule..”

he laughed gently, “i do. final term coming up but… i want to see you again. if that’s okay.”

“it’s more than okay,” you said, “maybe… when you get time off… you can come to korea. meet your nieces and we can talk more.”

ezra’s eyes lit up, “really?”

you nodded, tears forming again, “really.”

for the first time since meeting him, you saw something in his eyes that mirrored your own. the quiet grief of what was lost. also, the fragile hope of what could still be found. you and ezra had grown up in two completely different universes, both orbiting around the same man. somehow, now, the threads were weaving together.

you reached out and gently squeezed his hand. “maybe we didn’t get what we needed from our childhoods,” you whispered, “you said you’ve always wanted to meet your only siblings. i’m sorry about mi but now i can be here whenever you need anything.”

ezra smiled through watery eyes, “i’d like that.”

you didn’t know what the future would bring. maybe just a few messages now and then… maybe shared holidays one day… maybe a whole new branch of love for your daughters. 

however, this new discovery might’ve healed something inside of you that you’ve thought was impossible to ever heal.

kang family series linked here

[supahstarrr]

a bit disappointed that marz & dys are not often discussed together. both having augments that is the lack of a negative emotion—making their personality prone to be stunted and needing to rely on others to help them reflect. both being failed by the adults at a young age—one (marz) was not held accountable for their treatment of the other (dys) by the adults, which made it significantly harder for them to reflect their bad actions until they held themself accountable as they grew up while the other was failed by the adults due to the lack of support they were given. one being more alright to being challenged and is generally more open-minded, while the other is more stubborn and closed-minded. marz's full name referring to human-made confection that can be used to create many kinds of sweet treats made for consumption while dys' full name refers to a psychological mood disorder. both of their names hint at their perspectives of humanity—marz values the material created by humans meant for consumption & how they bring people together while dys is disillusioned with the concept of humanity and what they offer while feeling kinship to what nature is and offers.

my brain is constantly gearing when i think how the two of them is able to contrast with each other, but especially parallel each other as well. of course its vaild and understandable that tangent & dys are more likely to be discussed together to comment how their contrast and parallels contribute to the themes and ideas of the story but marz & dys are *also* that as well. the fact that marz & dys are one-sided enemies brings so much layers to what, how they add to the story as well and what they represent. i wonder if marz and dys had similar parent situations, their fates could end up somewhat similar... too much stuff to think about

[naranjapetrificada]

Specifically about the racefakery:

I'm primarily seeing the conversation around All This focus on plagiarism (which makes sense) but I wanted to say some things as one of the handful of Black people I'm aware of that hang out around here:

1. Discord makes my brain itch and I've been afraid to go to OFMD bluesky after how bad OFMD twitter was, so I'm often one of so few Black people on here that you can count us one hand. I wasn't especially close with Atticus but I did like knowing that someone else was gonna be loud about racist Ed takes from a "position of authority" as it were. That knowledge made shit feel a lot less lonely over here and this motherfucker took that from me. That's what I feel betrayed about. That's what pisses me off about the racefaking in particular. Things are now unequivocally going to be harder for me around here than they were before and I hate that he was able to put me in this position.

2. I'm not aware of if he plagiarized any of my fics because they're mostly 100% canon compliant or in one case, too weird to effectively copy, but I'll never know because 100+ middling fics is too many to check through. I'm okay not knowing because the stilted way he wrote about Ed's hair and Ed's race are not things I wish to subject myself to anymore. But for the record, his fics are one of the places where the racefakery shows the most imo because writing makes you tell on yourself in unanticipated ways.

3. Maybe this next point will get me blocked by even more white people in this fandom but here we go anyway. I've struggled to come up with a more diplomatic way of saying "white people are too polite/conflict averse" but like, white people are too polite/conflict averse. This has literally come up in this exact fandom before, around a less fraught issue but still. It had ugly fallout then and it's had ugly fallout now, and while I understand not wanting to come at somebody you perceive as a person of color where everyone could see it, I do wish we had an environment where people who did have suspicions about him could have come forward. The amount of harm he was able to do is directly proportional to the amount of time and space he had to do it, and even before you start talking about the racefaking he was up to shady shit that I certainly had no idea was going on. Which leads to my next point.

4. I can recall a couple times where my race-related spidey senses tingled, but any unease I had was easily lost in the constant din of race-related shit that comes with my existence both in and out of fan spaces. To borrow from scarrletmoon (I miss having you here!) it's like background radiation. Also, there was always the "maybe it's just bad writing" excuse, or the "it's not my place to say but the way he writes about Judaism isn't quite like the way Jews I know talk about it" excuse. There was my (continued) inability to imagine why some white person would bother, because no amount of clout is worth what it's like to be Black on the internet. There was also probably some kind of aversion I had to the idea of losing "one of us" on here, which honestly might be something he was preying on but it's not productive for me to try to get inside the mind of someone who would do what he's done.

And if I was falling into those particular traps (around the racefaking in particular) myself, there's no way the rest of y'all could have known anything was up. Certainly not in isolation. Now I can't help but wonder if being seen interacting with me gave him some kind of legitimacy in any of your eyes, which is lowkey horrifying if true.

Anyway, those are the things I have to say now, after processing for a bit. It's still not worth my sanity to spend more than 30 seconds at a time looking at Discord, where I know a lot of this sort of thing gets discussed, but I can't help but wish I'd known about this sooner.

[fuck-customers]

I wonder if there’s a professional way to tell my manager to stop playing mentor. I can’t tell if he truly wants to teach me skills that I can use on the long run or if he’s just too lazy to provide real training because he’s so bad at being a mentor. He doesn’t check my work even when I tell him to and then gets frustrated when I make a mistake and tells me to go find out what the mistake is. If I’m unable to figure it out and the deadline is quickly approaching, he’ll step in and take over, all while calling himself a genius for being able to save the day. Meanwhile I’ve learned nothing other than the fact that he has an inflated ego. He thinks that by telling me to figure it out without any formal training, I’ll be able to understand what I’m doing better, but that’s not been the case and he has no intention of changing his tactics despite us having a one on one discussion about this. If he truly is trying to be a mentor but he’s just really bad at it then I wish he’d stop because at this point I’m just here to clock in, work, and clock out. I was grateful that he said he wanted to pass on his expertise at first but it’s been years and I’ve learned nothing so I’ve given up on learning here altogether. This isn’t a school so there’s no point in continuing this charade. And if it’s because he’s too lazy to take the time to train me, then all the more reason to just tell me what to do so I can get the work done. He keeps complaining about how there’s so much that hasn’t been completed yet but he hasn’t properly trained anyone so we’re all just figuring things out as we go and that means there’s going to be mistakes and people are going to work slowly. I don’t understand what he has to gain from this situation other than an inflated ego but the cons outweigh the pros because if the department isn’t getting work done in a timely manner and the work is incorrect, that’s only going to make him look bad so I don’t get it.

Posted by admin Rodney

[ghouljams]

hey ghoul, this isn’t really anything sex / writing related but i’d still really appreciate some feedback because i’m kind of at a loss here.

the other night i got, like, super high off a 25mg edible while hanging out with some friends who were drinking. there were two sober people in the group. being high off my mind, i was somewhat conscious of what i was doing but was in no position to correct myself besides asking the people around me if what i was doing was okay / if i was making them uncomfortable.

there was one person there who i don’t know all that well and it was the first time i’d hung out with them. i was super high, and they were incredibly drunk. i know i was laying over them a lot since my body felt incredibly heavy and id get really close to their face, but in my delirium i thought we were on the same wavelength with the energy they were giving back to me.

however, when i apologized the following day for how i acted, they told me i made them very uncomfortable that night, and i felt horrible and apologized profusely, to which they said they appreciated my acknowledgment of my actions. after talking to one of the sober people there, they told me “you were kinda all over them :/“ but i cannot stress enough that i COULD NOT control how my body felt. im not in anyway excusing or downplaying my actions, i know how i acted was wrong even though i was intoxicated. and also, that same friend sat down next to me that night and told me i needed to “tone it down by like 30%” because i was kind of all over people, and i started crying and telling them that i can’t help it and that it was mean of them to say that to me when im so high.

again, i’m not excusing my actions, but i guess what im wondering, is at what point do the sober people become “responsible” of the actions of such an intoxicated person? at what point do they need to step in and put space between that person and everyone else, if their actions are truly making people uncomfortable?

i’m so sorry this is so much, and you don’t need to respond, but i need to make sure im not like crazy or anything.

As someone who has babysat a lot of super high people (on various substances) but has not done much in the way of drugs I would say that if someone looks like they're TOO INTOXICATED then the responsible thing is to make sure that person is safe. I cannot tell you the anxiety I had reading your ask and hoping you weren't going to say someone touched you or assaulted you in some way.

This is just my opinion as a former trip sitter (which isn't the same as hanging with a greened out friend) but uh your sober friends should have gotten you to a horizontal surface if they noticed you were having trouble keeping yourself vertical. Also really questionable to tell someone clearly far past their intox limit that they need to "tone it down." That's just unkind.

I am not trying to say that intoxicated people are completely absolved of their actions or can't control themselves, but if you are sober and see an intoxicated friend making bad decisions or making someone uncomfortable, then it's your responsibility as their friend to get them out of that situation. The same way you would keep your drunk friend from going home with a guy she just met, your friends should have done a better job taking care of someone who was too impaired to function.

The only thing you can do is what you have already done: apologize to the people you made uncomfortable and let them know that you'll try and make sure it doesn't happen again.

Look I've had plenty of rollers laying on me or petting my head, or rubbing their cheek on my pant leg, it's a thing that happens when people get high. I'm not someone who likes being touched, but I also am someone who understands that they weren't meaning to do anything that made me uncomfortable, they were just super fucking high and trying to find something to ground themselves.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

(requested by @silenthopper)

The first time he saw you, Bulkhead never planned to get so wrapped up in you. Damn, he didn't even plan to walk in the park that night, but Sari insisted since there were some cool activities in Central Park. Of course she never mentioned something like a ballet representation and didn't even plan on seeing it.

The first thing that caught Bulkhead's attention was the structure, an open-air theater installed just at the side of the artificial lake, and, of course, the music. Bless his heart, he wasn't so invested in knowing every detail of earth, but he had enough to recognize something beautiful when he heard it. When he finally got his attention towards that structure, he saw a young man, armed with a crossbow, running in a forest made of fake trees, meeting another, dressing something that reminded him of those black birds that he saw sometimes here and there. Prowl had called them crow? He didn't know, but that man had a strange, ominous look. They moved strangely, but it wasn't a strange bad; they moved pretty! Like seeing some birds moving here and there on the concrete, it wasn't made up; it had a purpose.

Then the lights went off, and the forest scenery changed; now the bright and full moon reflected its entirety on a lake made of fabric and glitters. The ruins of an old structure were covered in fake vines and wildflowers. Then, something white appeared, something soft, light, and swift.

Your white tutu stood out on the dark scenography; the small crown on your head shone like a star in the cold space, alongside the diamonds on your gown and your small slipper.

His jaw dropped open, amazed by the scene.

He decided to stay and observe, near enough to see and hear the music but not too close to bother anyone; he just sat there, observing. Bee and Sari, of course, couldn't understand what was so interesting about some people in costumes that like to dance, but there was something captivating for Bulkhead, and that something was you.

Were you real? You seemed pretty real, but you look so…non-human. Up on those two small feet, your graceful movements on the wooden floor, your expression too was completely different. He couldn't describe it, but the only thing that he was able to come up with was beautiful; everything about you was beautiful.

"What is it?" he asked, concentrated but curious.

"Ah, the opera house does these shows every summer. It's ballet…"

"Ah…and…what are they doing?"

"Dancing, of course. It's a kind of dance; I would never do that, but some people like it."

"She seems scared of that man, the one with the black feathers…!

"Uuuuh… It's the Swan Lake, I guess. A girl is turned into a swan by a bad wizard, and a prince tries to save her."

He wasn't sure that he had understood the thing; what he knew was that the curious man with the black feathers was bad because you, the princess, who has the crown and it seems logical, were scared of him, while the other male was protecting you from him… So in the end, Sari's story seemed true!

He had stayed there, curious and fascinated by this curious activity that humans seemed to have created on their own. He wondered if Prowl was able to move like that; he was the most agile of the team after all, and so he stayed there, now curious to know how the story ended, while his group decided to head up to some more interesting activities.

At some point the story had come to an end; the music roared stronger than all the night, all the dancers on the stage, the bad man, the prince, and the princess. Previously, something bad had happened because the prince danced with another one in a black dress, and you seemed like you were crying. He tried to understand the integrity of everything until…. YOU JUMPED? He stood up, panicking, starting to run to where he thought you must have landed! BEHIND THE STAGE!

Poor Bulkhead, he hadn't thought that this was all part of the show like he had missed the finale! He was so genuinely concerned about your well-being that he completely forgot that everything was just fake!

Behind the theater, while the orchestra started to play again after the roar of the applause, you and your companion were slowly getting down from the mechanic scaffold after the last scene; Odette and Siegfried unite in eternity by love in death. You both were completely breathless, just like everyone around. The cheers covered the laugh and the screams from the dancers, everyone so helplessly enthusiastic for the good result of tonight's show.

"Everyone! Everyone!" The maestro tried to hide his happiness too, but he was clearly over the moon: "All of you have been GREAT! But the show is not over! We must end the"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

Suddenly the sound of metal steps startled you all, and the presence of one of those Autobots suddenly changed the atmosphere of the crew.

"Where's she?! Is she okay?!" He started to look around, everywhere! The maestro tried to stop the frantic searching of the bot.

"W-wha-whaT-STOP! Hey hey hey QUIT THIS!" he finally intervened, holding a ballerina all dressed in white, but putting her down gently noticing that she didn't had a crown on her head.

"CUT IT OUT! You can't stay here, out from the backstage!"

"She jumped! How can you not be panicking?! SHE JUST JUMP!"

"WHO JUMPED?!"

"The princess! THE PRINCESS HAS FALLEN! Is she hurt?!"

Everyone needed to make two plus two to realize what he intended and about who, the maestro had enough time to make the orchestra take some more time, excusing himself for some troubles.

"First, no one here is hurt. Secondly, of course she's fine! It's just a spectacle! Look!"

The maestro showed you and the other male looking confused at Bulkhead. Ah…it was true…you were fine! Thanks, Primus! He sighed in relief.

"Oh… Oh, I thought… Primus, I thought something bad had just happened!"

"Oh…" you finally took some courage to speak. "It's…fine. I mean, you must have been influenced by the story and—"

"Yes, yes, yes, everything here is amazing! NOW MOVE AWAY! Hero or not, you're stopping us! EVERYBODY BACK ON STAGE!"

He muffled an apology while everyone moved between his legs trying to get on stage on time, trying to look like it was just a small delay. That wasn't even backstage, he thought; it was the park ground… That grumpy man had no right to tell him to not stay there… Nah, those were some silly excuses; he was just too embarrassed to admit that he had looked like a fool.

You, on the other hand, couldn't have found this event quite cute.

The next day he came back; he found out that this kind of event was supposed to stay for a few more days, and he decided to take this opportunity to properly apologize to you and, of course, to the rest of the crew.

"Bring some flowers! And launched them!" said Bee, laughing. "On TV, they do this every time!"

And of course, that day, just a few hours away from the starting of the spectacle, everybody in that half-made backstage found himself under a curious rain of flowers.

"Look!"

"What's happening?"

"Some prank?"

By looking around, you spotted the figure of the same giant of the previous day, occupied by throwing flowers… A lot of flowers—the cargo of a small truck was full of them!

When you approached him, he was still focused on that, not acknowledging your presence from the other side of the small fence that delineated the area.

"Hi!" He jumped, throwing on himself a bunch of those flowers, surprised by your sudden appearance.

"Oh, um… Hi!" He scoffed away a few flowers. "Haven't you seen me there… You're very good at sneaky!"

"First time someone said that to me." You chuckled a little, noticing then his nervousness. "But I'll take that as a compliment! So… Are you still checking if I'm hurt?"

"No, no, no! I…wanted to apologize about yesterday; I didn't mean to ruin…whatever thing that was; I was just so so worried!"

"It's alright! Even heroes can make mistakes, right? ...so…" You moved away a few petals from your shoulder. "About the flowers…"

"Oh yes! My friend Bumblebee told me to throw them!"

"…AH! Oh my!" You started to laugh; Bulkhead still looked confused. "At the end of the show, not during the rehearsal!"

"Oh…,he scratched his head. "I had mistaken…again…"

You took one of the flowers, one of the few blue ones that stand alongside those sugary pink that prevail on the multitude, and put it on your ear.

"No, it's just the cutest thing that could have happened to us… So… Bulkhead, right? Can I presume that you enjoyed the show?"

"Oh! Enjoyed?!" His face converted into a giant grin, especially knowing that you knew his name. "I loved it! You were amazing back there! I don't need to breathe, but WOW, you were breathtaking! You were like…flying on that thing; you were…you are…um…"

He felt the weight of his words, feeling a rush of awkwardness on him, realizing that he let his mouth move faster than his thought.

"…I think you were so pretty…"

Your mesmerizing look was on him, and…you started to laugh again, mostly for the nervousness and the cuteness that this big robot had brought you. You were used to compliments, critiques, or children that think of you as some kind of fairy, but receiving a big amount of them from a big robot that saves the day as an occupation? That was…new! For a moment, he thought that you may have found him ridiculous, but then you offered him your hands for a handshake.

"Thank you, Bulkhead… I'm Y/N, by the way!"

From that day on, the biggest of the Autobots became the biggest of you fans, too.

You couldn't resist, but besides the fact that he was able to destroy everything thanks to his herculean strength, he was surprisingly adorable for his way of acting around you. When facing an enemy, he was unstoppable, courageous, and prone to the attack more than the thinking. But around you, he was completely different!

He was shy, unsure about how to say things and how to express them. He was clumsy, things that you had found almost cute, but he had tried several times to be careful about things that he knew people cared about.

You had tried to invite him to some of your shows, but he had to decline many of those invitations, with a heavy heart too. The theater was too small for him!

Well, he didn't know that the first ballerina of the opera house had a few friends here and there! And how could they deny the desire of one of Detroit's protectors to enjoy one of their spectacles?! When he found out that they did recreate a nice place just for him, he couldn't hold his joy!

You even found time to spend with him on some dates, as you love to say, just to tease him a little, a thing that made him look even more cute than ever!

But mostly, he loved when he could find some time to see you practice. He loved how concentrated you were when you needed to practice one of your performances; he loved the passion that you emitted from your eyes! You were a contrast, delicate and strong, gentle but powerful, elegant and passionate. He couldn't not stare at you, admiring your tiny foot supporting your entire body without a trace of fatigue.

He could have never even dreamed of doing something like that.

He had found himself, in his alone time, painting things that reminded him of you, like flowers, river streams, or those animals that gave the name of the first spectacles that he had seen you in. And yet, he never found the courage to give you one of those, too embarrassed that you could find them silly or stupid…damn, you would have found him stupid.

"You know, Bulkhead," you spoke on one of those many walks in the park near him, "I was wondering, would you save me from a deception if it was the case?"

"Uh? Why do you say such a thing? …ARE THEY TARGETING YOU?! ARE THEY NEAR?!"

You calmed him down, caressing his giant servos.

"No, no, Bulky, no! No one is targeting me! It's just a guess! It's just that you remind me of a knight… so strong, so brave… It just makes my heart bump a little!"

You made his spark completely go shut down… He scratched his head again, coughing a little.

"I'm…not sure if I'm a knight, but...I'm pretty sure if one of those boozos tries to hurt you, they'll face me first!"

He truly was your knight!

[generalluxun]

Is it just me, or does it feel really...questionable what they have Alya say at the end of the episode? Not the content itself, Alya is wonderful. But the statements like "I know whatever you do, you do it for people's own good" and "her burden is probably too heavy, Trixx. I have to figure out how to help her" when previously she was *pissed* and said "you don't get to decide what Adrien should or shouldn't know."

Like, I'm glad Marinette keeps her memory of this conversation, but it just...rubs me the wrong way that Alya appropriately called her out, only to now basically turn into her absolver once she loses the memory. Feels...iffy to me. Someone who could have helped Adrien is now instead only concerned with how much a burden *Marinette* is carrying. Which, if she kept that memory, I'm not convinced would be her number one priority?

I don't mind Marinette getting support, I guess I'm just tired of the fandom prioritizing how bad the guilt is making her feel, instead of, I don't know, caring about the harm she's causing to others by lying? Marinette's feelings shouldn't always take precedence over everything!

Anyways sorry if this is too salty, Alya's line about Marinette's 'heavy burden' is just rubbing me the wrong way. I'm a bit sensitive to when something that should be about *Adrien* gets turned into 'but Marinette is sad!' because it happens too damn often.

Okay- I'm of two minds(three?) about this.

1)In universe Alya's statements make perfect sense for her. We can agree on that.

It's the meta where I have mixed feelings-

In a show well written, with consistently deep themes, I think it works. It highlights how nit all secrets sre the same. Alya can't conceive of Marinette hiding something *this big* and for a lot of relatively harmless secrets, she is right. Support is the answer. It's a direct contrast to the reality. If this were *Marinette's* secret to keep, she could keep it.

It's *not* Marinette's secret though. It's Adrien's, and she is keeping it from him.

That is the difference and I think you could see this as being something to try and make that distinction.

...

The problem is ML is very inconsistent in its writing and fluffing Marinette is a vice it cannot put down. So I understand your fears/concerns.

It's a 🤷‍♀️

Overall I will say *this* is a very good episode. Will it lead to a good payoff? *That* I have my doubts on.

[miryum]

Pirate Captain!James Potter x Princess!Reader ANGST ending (pt 1, pt 1.5, pt 2)

You sat in the rowboat, hands pressed along the wood. James sat across from you, muscles straining as he rowed the oars towards shore. You had asked for him not to be the one to take you back, worried he would get jailed and executed the moment he stepped foot on land. But he had insisted. “What man would I be if I didn’t stay with my beloved until the end?” The words had been like a knife to your heart. 

"I am sorry," you managed out. "You understand why I can't, right, James? Please understand."

"I understand," he replied. He wouldn't look at you, instead focusing his stare to the side to watch for the shoreline. Land was only less than half a mile.

You pressed your lips together to try and keep from crying. Why were you so emotional about this? You had only known the man for less than a month and he had kidnapped you. You would not fall victim to the tales of captors wooing maidens.

His voice broke the silence of the waves lapping against the sides of the rowboat. "I know that material possessions, safety, and your duty come into play with your decision. I respect that, Princess, and I admire you for that. I guess I lead with my heart more than my head."

"Leading with your heart isn't bad," you assured him softly. "I wish I could do that more often. But I can't, James."

He swallowed thickly. "I know."

You stayed in silence until the boat pulled up next to the dock. James was quick to stand and begin tying up the rowboat, crouching down on the dock and gripping the rope in his hands. His thighs pressed against his breeches and you could see the little calluses on his palms. You could see now why he was the pirate captain. He was skilled in many things and your demeanor softened. As you sat in the rowboat, hands clasped politely in your lap as you were taught, you thought back to James' words.

“I truly am sorry,” James spoke into the night air. It was a bit cool and you were glad you had grabbed a shawl. The few lanterns on deck, coupled with the moon, were light enough. “Just say the word and I’ll turn this ship around. I… You can go back to your parents whenever you want, you know that, yes?”

“You’d be willing?” you asked quietly. “You claim you’re in love with me–” 

“I am,” he said with such certainty and quickness you thought you might get whiplash. He spun you around gracefully before tugging you back into his arms. You wondered where he learned to dance.

“You claim you’re in love with me,” you repeated. “So why would you be willing to let me go? Why not force me to stay with you?”

James looked down at you and you couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. There was a melancholy stare that also seemed pitiful. “Have you never loved someone?” You shook your head and he continued in a soft tone, “you would do anything for them. Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness, you would do it. I don’t think you realise how far I’d go for you, Y/n.”

Some people had started to assemble as James finished up. The pirate ship looming on the horizon was definitely cause for notice and then when people began questioning why you looked like the missing princess, things began clicking. James didn't pay any mind to the growing crowd, instead glaring down at the ropes.

"James," you tried to get his attention quietly when someone ran off to alert some knights. He grunted in response and then, when he looked up at you, you saw tears in his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat and you made a little choked noise. "Nevermind," you whispered, not wanting to trouble him anymore than you already were.

James stood up and brushed off his pants to give him something to do. He then held out his hand for you to take. You were struck by the intensity of which his hazel eyes bored into yours. "One last chance," he offered softly.

All thoughts escaped you as you stared at his hand. It was the hand that had held you so tenderly while you two were dancing. It was the hand that guided yours to the wheel of his ship. It was the hand that had held your hair back when you got too sick on your first night on the ship and were too weak to push him away. It was the hand that held your hips tightly when he took you up to the crow's nest. He said it was to ensure you didn't fall, even though you were safe behind the wooden barrier that rose to your waist.

You could feel your subjects staring at you and their voices got louder as more and more people realised who you were. You could hear shouts from knights as they neared. Your eyes flicked back to James and even more desperation filled your veins. If only someone could tell you what to do. Either way, you knew you would regret something, but you didn't want to have to give up anything. "You're sure you can't come with me?" You didn't want to sound like you were begging, but it was hard. 

James shook his head. "You know I can't, darling."

"I know," you murmured. "I know." Both of you realised that even though he wanted to join you, he would be executed for his crimes of piracy and there was nothing you could do about it. And your parents would never allow any relationship to bloom between him and you. 

So you took his hand and stepped off the rowboat. Knights were quick to rush up and grab your arms, hurrying you away and ushering civilians back. You let out a short scream as the guards grabbed you, not prepared for the intrusion of space. And, after spending weeks at sea, you weren't used to solid ground. Your knees buckled and the knights' grip only tightening to try to keep you up.

"Hey!" James shouted, feet rooted to the dock. "Let her go!"

You craned your neck to try and see him, but even more guards were quick to surround him. "Stop!" you cried. "He rescued me! Stop it!" You jerked away from your knights and stamped your foot. You felt like a toddler, but you commanded, "I am your heir princess! Release him and let him go." Your voice wavered at the thought of letting James leave you, but you continued, "he did nothing wrong. Let him return to his ship." You were sure you looked like a disaster – you hadn't been able to properly wash your hair in weeks and the clothes you were wearing were not fit for a princess. Rumours would surely swirl around your kidnapping and sudden return, but the knights were still devoted to you and so they slowly stepped away from James.

The pirate held your gaze. “If you weren’t a princess,” he whispered, “would you have come with me?”

“I fear that if I say yes,” you replied softly, “it would hurt you more.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His eye bags that had grown ever since you had danced with him were wet and you couldn’t bear the knowledge that it was you who had made him cry. “Goodbye, my Princess,” he whispered. 

“Goodbye, James.” You saw him wince as he turned away, hands clenched into fists. You couldn’t watch as he got back into the boat and rowed away.

It was then that you realised the love of your life was gone. Maybe one day you would see him again, by some miracle or chance. Or maybe you could only visit his pirate ship in your memories. It would be best to forget the way he held you so tenderly and lovingly.

You forced yourself to turn away and walk back to your life as princess.

[alostlovergirl]

Hi, I wonder if you’re still taking request but anyways if you are what if reader grew up with Thor and Loki as well but she was meant to marry Thor and instead she chose Loki and maybe it’s like a forbidden relationship? Maybe add some smut? Maybe they do it somewhere in a room where people on the other side and he’s telling her to be quiet because people will hear?

Too Sweet For The God of Mischief

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Warnings: Cheating, Slight confession, jealousy, some selfishness from Loki, angst, comfort, foreshadowing to a bad relationship with Thor, arranged marriage, neither are good, the reader is kind of a helpless victim, smut, slight objectification of reader, misogyny, Loki taking advantage of the reader's vulnerability, losing of virginity, not proof read, etc.

Author's note: I am so sorry this took so long for me to get out. I ended up getting really sick at the worst possible time and had no energy to do anything. I really hope you enjoy this, and I'm sorry if my writing is a little rusty; it's been a while.

WC: 2809

She was so sweet. Always talking in such a sweet voice, even when interacting with that doofus he called a brother. See, the God of Mischief, Loki Laufeyson himself was weak in the knees for such a goddess. A goddess from the land Alfheim, the land of the elves. Loki always considered himself to be too good to ever go after an elf, which is why when his mother proposed to him at such a young age to marry an elf princess, he rejected her with quickness. Then, she came along in his life when they were young, only a couple hundred years old and being promised to his older brother, Thor Odinson. By the Gods, she had his little heart captured in the palm of her hands. She was destined to become the next Queen of Asgard through the marriage of the oldest son and Loki desperately wished that he could change his answer to her proposal of marriage.

Even when they were young, she held herself with such poise and grace, that he feared that he might be too unstable for her. He was the God of Mischief… how could such a calm girl handle him? As they grew older, she paid more attention to him than she ever did to his brother, causing a deep friendship to grow and she became a shoulder for him to lean on. Especially when the family problems started and when he found out he was adopted, she was there for him, even if he tried to push her away. She was simply too sweet for the God of Mischief.

It has been years at this point. The marriage of the God of Thunder and The Goddess was finally being fulfilled after hundreds of years. And all Loki could feel was jealousy and regret. Why couldn’t he bring himself to tell her? Or at least try to reverse the decision he made when he was a stupid child, not understanding the importance of this day. His oaf of a brother was marrying this beautiful, calm, intelligent and graceful woman that has ever invaded his mind. Even after so many years, she was still holding onto his heart without her knowing.

Like now, he was watching her prepare. She was dressed down in a cream wedding dress, pastel-colored flowers in her hair and beautiful jewels adorning her neckline. She was practicing her vows to give herself away to Thor, her soft voice wavering slightly with some sadness and nervousness. Hearing her so scared only made his heart ache in ways he never thought it would. So, for the first time in a while after finding out he was adopted, he decided he would try to comfort her.

“Nervous...?” His voice seemed to scare her with the way she jumped and clutched her crumbled paper of vows to her chest. She looked back at him, her eyes filled with shock and tears. His heart ached worse when he saw the tears, wondering why she was crying and what Thor had done this time.

Thor was no equipped to handle such a fragile beauty as herself… but neither was he. Both were emotionally unstable in different ways. Loki was cruel and would probably harm her for no reason only to satisfy his need to make her feel below him. Thor was too... reckless with someone like her. Seeming to only care about getting the throne, fighting off big enemies to the palace and getting shit faced drunk. He couldn’t handle nor give her the care that she would need in their relationship and Loki could see that from a mile away.

She didn’t answer his question at first, seeming scared to say anything. Loki simply closed the door, cutting off the sounds of guards and handmaidens running around trying to find Thor only hours before the wedding was to take place. He clicks the latch closed, locking the world out and as soon as he did that, he watched her collapse to her knees.

“Oh... Loki...” She said his name with such despair, her voice barely containing her emotions. “We had another fight… I don’t know how to please him...”

“There is no pleasing the God of Thunder. He is just as selfish as me… that’s the way father made the both of us.” He walks towards her, pacing his footsteps carefully and placing a gentle hand on her neat hair. She was all made up to be the perfect wife to the God of Thunder and yet, she couldn’t muster a smile on her lips. He sits near his friend, pulling her into him and letting her collapse into the little comfort he can provide. “Poor thing. He has you so upset; you are practically gripping onto me.”

She sobbed into Loki, shaking like a leaf and hiccupping. She felt so guilty for gripping onto another man for comfort, but her soon to be husband is such a brute. It was only a matter of time until she angered Thor enough for him to do something brash to her. She could stop this marriage, not walk down the aisle, but she would disappoint her parents so much. She couldn’t risk disappointing her parents or her people by not sucking it up and marrying Thor. She had no right to do anything less than her mother when it comes to marriage.

“You must fight for your marriage. It will turn out better than you expected.” It’s what her mother did and soon her father started treating her mother better. She was already trying to fight for her marriage, and it was getting her nowhere, but hurt feelings.

Loki pets her head, being careful to not get his rings tangled in her hair and mess up the perfect braids the women fussed over. “Shh… calm down, pet. You shouldn’t cry on your wedding day…” He knew she had every reason to cry right now, but he didn’t know how else to comfort the poor girl. He never usually comforted her because it was the other way around, but he just wanted to hold her. This is the closest he has ever gotten to her. The way she was curled up into his side like she was trying to crawl up into his suit to escape this marriage.

“Look at me.” He says softly, tilting her head up to look at him. By the nine realms, she looked pitiful. Tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, puffy red eyes lips and a look on her face that just made his heart ache even more. He wished he was marrying her. He wasn’t any better and might hurt her just as bad as Thor, but he knew better than to argue with a woman on her wedding day. He cupped her pretty face between his large palms, brushing his thumbs against her eyes and wiping away the tears. “Don’t cry. You are going to make it through this marriage… and you will always have me right here by your side.”

She sniffled, trying to smile at his words of comfort, but she just couldn’t. She just looked at him as tears filled her eyes again, ready to fall down her cheeks and continue to make wet marks into the lace of her dress. She would have continued to cry if she hadn’t been caught off guard by such an action as an unexpected kiss.

Even if she was crying, it was like he couldn’t stop himself. He had to kiss her, even if it was one time and even though she was still going to marry his brother, he needed her to know. He pulled her into a kiss. He poured all his feelings into the kiss, tilting his head and tasting the sweet cherry of her lip-gloss. He pulled back from the kiss, resting his head against hers and feeling the grip on his suit grow even tighter. “Oh, how I wish I was marrying you…” he breathed into her face, letting her feel his own emotions in just how he was talking. He was so jealous… so jealous that Thor got to keep this beauty to himself… and Loki just wanted to taste his brother’s prize.

Her tears had stopped falling and she stared at Loki with such wide, sad eyes. She didn’t even get time to react before another kiss was pressed against her willing lips. He tasted like berries and alcohol, like he had been drinking all the pain away since he woke up this morning. Did she really miss how her friend had been feeling all this time?

She should feel guilty for kissing another man on her wedding day, but Loki’s lips were providing such comfort to her right now, that she couldn’t stop herself. She buries her fingers into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he pushes his tongue into her mouth. His kisses were slow and long, conveying emotions that he couldn’t express with his words. It was unlike Thor’s kisses, short and always distracted.

He laid her back on the floor, gripping her plush thighs and making them spread enough for him to fit in between. He pressed sweet kisses along her chin, neck and collarbone, not daring to leave a mark on the bride to be. She was gripping onto his suit so tightly, letting out little whimpers and moans, her mind too fuzzy to even remember what she was crying about. Loki wanted nothing more than to ravish her body and leave her a mess for Thor to put back together, but he had to be gentle. Leaving marks or bruises will only make Thor angrier and he rather not the girl he loves suffers from Thor’s wrath.

They had to be quick. Loki already heard more guards than last time roaming around the halls and Thor’s loud talking. They had found the prince, and the wedding ceremony was moving ahead as quick as possible. He pulled back from making her breathless with kisses and looked at her with a serious face. “You must stay quiet... you cannot alert the guards or the ladies in waiting of what we are doing in here.” He had a hand over her mouth, making sure she understood the situation that they were in. If they were caught, it was going to be hell to pay. All they need to know is that Loki is comforting the crying soon to be bride and needed a minute to calm her down. Not that he was about to take her innocence right now before Thor had a chance.

She nodded and everything started to move so quickly. Loki’s pants were coming undone, and her panties were basically ripped off her. Loki pulled her legs more open and hiked her dress up, presenting him with such a pretty cunt that he almost dived in before preparing her. He drags his thumb along the outline of her cunt, feeling her shiver against him and close her eyes. “Shivering already? Such a pretty thing...” he breathes to himself, dragging two fingers against her cunt and watching her squirm under him.

He sunk one finger into her, feeling her warmth wrap around his finger and practically pulling him in. She whined softly, making him cover her mouth again with a firm hand. He added another finger, pumping his fingers in her in a scissoring motion, her wetness collecting around his rings. She was desperately trying to hold back her moans, but she could already feel herself spinning in pleasure.

He pressed his fingers knuckles deep and she gripped onto his sleeves, whimpering his name under his hand. He was shushing her gently and continuing to pump his finger, letting the wetness gather up enough in her cunt. He pulled his fingers out, watching her pussy gush slightly with slick. She watched him lick his fingers like she was a rare delicacy, groaning at the sweet taste of the woman he couldn’t have.

Leaning down, he moved his hand and pressed a soft kiss to her quivering lips before covering her mouth again. “I’ll have to taste you another time, darling.” He promised her that there was going to be another time before moving for the main event.

 “Take a deep breath.” Was his one instruction before he pressed his cock into the warmth of her unclaimed pussy, grunting at the tightness and watching her squirm under him from the stretch. He moves a hand from her thigh to her stomach, holding her down and pressing in deeper. Gosh, she felt so good… she was gripping him so tightly and it only made him feel more jealous that Thor is going to ruin this anytime he wants.

All she could feel was heaviness in her stomach and painful pleasure. She held onto Loki’s sleeves, tears pricking the corner of her eyes and her legs tensing up completely. She could hear him telling her to breathe and calm down but damn she didn’t expect it to be so big. She felt him pull out and press right back in, eliminating some pain with the thrust. She felt a loud moan tear itself out of her throat and he pressed his hand down firmer on her mouth, trying to keep her quiet.

It took a second, but when it started to feel good, she felt like she was on cloud nine. Her desperate moans and whines were muffled against Loki’s hand as he fucked her into the cold floor of her dressing room. She moved her hands from his sleeves to his arms, dragging her fingernails against the nice fabric of his suit. She could see his face through the tears, and he looked like he was enjoying this more than she was. Eyes closed and desperately holding back moans of his own, he moved his body closer.

He leans over her, covering her in his warmth and rocking his body against hers. She rocked her hips up, feeling him nudge against her cervix. She was panting, her breathing shaking and more whines filling up the room as Loki continued to tell her to be quiet. How the hell was she supposed to stay quiet when he is so deep inside of her? It was nearly impossible for her to hold back cries of his name.

A thin layer of sweat was appearing on her body, making some of the body shimmer come off her body and some of it rub against his suit, but he couldn’t care less. He’d play it off like he gave her a hug that lasted way too long. He was almost there, and it was good timing because the handmaidens were starting to knock on the door, calling for the bride. They probably needed to fix her makeup before the wedding and Loki started to speed up his hips.

“Just hold on for me..., just hold on for me…” he grunted, feeling her dig her nails deeper into his suit and whimper into his hand. He could see her eyes rolling back as he rolled his hips rougher, trying not to hurt the poor thing. Her thighs were trembling against his hips, and she was arching her body into him, pressing her breasts against his chest as she shook her head, wanting his hand off of her mouth.

He groans softly into the nape of her neck, trying to stay quiet as the knocking got louder and harsher. “Just a minute! I am trying to calm her down!” Loki yelled at the handmaidens at the door, trying to finish as quickly as possible. He could hear the women talking before they stopped knocking, but they were still standing at the door. He pressed his hand a little firmer, panting softly as she tightens around him.

She was really struggling to keep still, squirming and shaking under him, pushing her hands on his chest from the pure overstimulation that was making her eyes go back into her head. The pain and the pleasure were mixing together, leaving her drooling into his hand. She felt Loki bury himself deep before he finally pulled out, pulling her up by her face. “Open, fuck open your mouth...” he whispered, and she obeyed, opening her mouth. He pushed into her mouth and held her there, unleashing his load into his mouth.

He couldn’t breed Thor’s little wife just yet. He would leave that for another time.

It took a few moments before Loki appeared at the door. He was dressed neatly, and his hair was combed down, like he didn’t just completely leave the poor girl behind him shaking. “She’s all yours, ladies.” He puts on his mischievous smile before walking past the ladies, leaving a put together wife that was weirdly out of breath and flushed in the face.

He wasn’t giving her up that easily.

[hope-luvs-hrtstppr]

my tlt annotations! part three: Nona The Ninth (by Tamsyn Muir) *spoilers ahead*

- i want to watch cam, pal, pyrrha, and nona’s silly little family like a sitcom

- nona is six months old and her internal dialogue’s vocabulary is still too advanced for me to comprehend fully

- “Nona was so grateful to have a whole six months of this. It was greedy to expect much longer.” (Muir, 40) under this quote i wrote ‘if anything bad happens to her in the next 437 pages, there will be blood’ …. yea

- nona is recognized by most characters (especially herself) as beautiful. so did everyone on canaan house think harrow was a baddie and just not talk about it? or is it one of those ‘under the glasses (and religious skull face paint) she was beautiful the whole time!’ situations

- hot sauce is so nonchalant

- “If I had the amount of dads you got, I’d sell some of them.” (Muir, 50) as someone with two moms and a step mom, i relate to Born In The Morning and his five dads more than any other tlt character

- “She was one of them, which gave her enormous pleasure.” (Muir, 52) at this point, i wasn’t sure who exactly was inside nona. and i knew that it probably wasn’t gideon or harrow, but there’s something so beautiful about nona getting to be fully accepted by a group of friends and be so loved and taken care of, the way griddlehark was so deprived of on the ninth. it’s a comforting thought that in some complex removed way, they could have experienced that through nona. but alas, this is not the case.

- “Being unexpectedly loved is so wonderful or terrible, isn’t it?” (Muir, 63)

- nona is so cute i want to eat her (not in a lyctor way tho)

- DESCRIBING CAM AND PAL AS “separated forever by a matter of minutes” (83) IS SO TRAGIC MUIR WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

- “Salt water has always relieved her: salt water made her feel as though, if there was someone is there with her, she would suddenly know the words to tell them everything.” (Muir, 108) THE POOL SCENE PARALLEL RAHHHHHHH

- “‘Don’t tell him I was weak.’ / ‘He’s going to know, Hect. You’re killing each other.’ / ‘It’s our choice.’” (Muir, 115) IVE BEEN SHOT???

- “yet another one of devotion’s casualties” that’s really what tlt is. it’s exploring how far devotion can go. how it can supersede generations, distance, death. muir really explores all the different ways devotion, and love, will destroy you.

- nona saying “‘And I’m not afraid of dying. Really truly Cam, I’m not.” in ntn, and harrow telling the body / alecto “Tonight I am afraid to die.” (160) in htn

- “‘I don’t let go,’ said Camilla. ‘It’s my one thing.’” (125)

- JOHN IS A FUCKING STREAMER OHMYGOD

- what pyrrha thinks is sexy: “Landmine people… some people were put into the universe to rig it to explode, then walk away… I always fell for that.” (139) and you know what she’s real asf for that

- everything was so much simpler when we were being hunted for sport at demi-god recruitment camp:((

- “You and I don’t even own our own souls,” (170) crown and cam, our fav codependent baddies who are going insane bc they haven’t been able to be in a room or touch their counterparts (corona only getting to see ianthe through babs, and pal’s body is long gone) who are both fighting in a war against the houses they are from in an attempt to be reunited with their other half along the way.

- nona saying that crown was really very nearly pretty enough for camilla

- a hot new bombshell has entered the villa (it’s prince kirona gaia the first, her divine highness, first lieutenant of the cohort, non-auxiliary heir to the emperor divine, first of the tower princes)

- “…They left you, they left you. They saw you suffering on dollar shop life-support, and they didn’t look back. They didn’t give a fuck about trying to save you. They left. / She said, ‘I don’t remember.’ / He said, ‘I can’t forget.’” (223) all the john becoming jod stuff is hitting especially hard as an american rn. john i will never forgive you but fuck if i don’t understand the rage.

- “‘God, I wish I could see your face.’ / Clack. Pause. ‘Look in the mirror.’ / Pause. ‘It’s not you. It’s me wearing you. I keep turning around to find you, and there’s nobody there.’ / Clack. ‘I know the feeling.’” (230) okay, so, what the fuck

- “I’ve carried you, Warden. And I’ve carried your memory… I’d rather carry you.” (230) i can’t even talk about them, they make me sick </3

- LOVE AND FREEDOM DON’T COEXIST, WARDEN !!!!!!

- my favorite bit is that pyrrha is a pimp

- “…and I was all, They won’t fall for that. / He said, They fell for it.” !!!!!!!! THIS IS SO RELEVANT

- nona saying that she doesn’t mind dying and she’s been doing it for ages, and pal saying that he will not be party to this again.

- We Suffer saying “we are riding the wave” like yes DBT!!

- overhearing yourself being killed in kiss marry kill is real shit, judith is twin

- ianthe saying “I want Camilla Hect on my doorstep” (302) don’t we all?

- “What did Harrowhark used to always call you? Tortoise? Blorgus?” (315) lmao do the other lyctors think harrow just gave g1deon a lil nickname

- gideon inherited jod’s tendency to crack ‘your mom’ jokes. are we all doomed to become our parents?

- nona has managed to be the gayest one in tlt and that is just impressive

- the twins scare me ngl

-WILL YOU NOT LOOK AT ME NOW, CAM, AND KNOW ME???? / YES, WARDEN, I WILL ALWAYS KNOW YOU (pg 351-352) *glass breaks* *siren sounds* *screaming and commotion* *distant explosions*

- “and she had never liked her hands.” (357) - nona in ntn. “I’m just amending here; your fingers are fine.” (389) and “There were a couple of callouses now on those soft necromancer’s palms, and I was proud of you.” (391)- gideon in htn

- the only griddlehark mouth-to-mouth kiss in tlt (for now) and griddlehark wasn’t even there >:(

- idk how gideon played dead so well while coronabeth was cooing over her body and talking about how hot she used to be. ik alive gideon would be freaking tf out

- i think gideon would have appreciated her immortal corpse being a source of comedy in a way (while they were experimenting on it) like she’d be laughing too if she were there

- pyrrha = mumfucker prime

- “i don’t want much of anything anymore” (372) can that be true?? it’s gideon?? all the love that was there. the hunger to be seen. the instinct to fight. is all that remains of gideon nav kirona gaia?

- jod is a deadbeat. making gideon invincible is him being selfish, not fatherly.

- nona being back in the gang is actually so important to me !!!

- i wanna talk a little about pyrrha saying that wake had a photo of pash on her all the time and how significant that must be for pash to hear. (slight vent warning for this bullet point) i’m the youngest of 5, and i’ve always felt estranged from my older siblings in many ways. last year i learned that one of my older brothers keeps an old school picture of me in his wallet. it means everything to know that someone you look up to holds you with them when you aren’t there. to affirm that you mean something to them.

- “Gideon… G—, you died for nothing.” (390) god, imagine dying bc your bestie/boss/cult leader asked you to hold a nuke for him, being resurrected and becoming that same man’s body guard for thousands of years, dying fighting the soul of a planet he killed, and the only person who gives a shit that you died isn’t that man, but the woman you had to kill and absorb to earn his favor. anyways

- “Nothing is really ready to die,” (393)

- the og lyctors waiting around while g1deon was on his way with the nuke needs to be filmed like a messy reality tv show. im talking confessionals, dramatic music, and everyone is wine-drunk

- “Nobody enjoys a peacemaker. The more they shot each other, the angrier they got. I don’t think they even noticed me watching them.” (406) this metaphor is fire. humans go to war with each other over for having different religious views. they spew so much hatred at each other trying to force other people to conform to their standard of god’s image. their god is watching them destroy more of his children in his name. their god is witness, but that doesn’t stop them, because the fight isn’t about religion anymore. it’s just hatred.

- the scene where john kills the earth and makes alecto. chills.

- “When Nona didn’t answer, the corpse prince said— ‘Okay. Different question. Do you love her?’” (412) Gideon has always been critical (jealous) of alecto and harrow’s love for her. and here she sees alecto walking around in harrow’s body, making herself right at home, but what gives her the right to use harrow like that? to walk around in her skin? the only other person who’s done that is gideon. who gave her life to be able to do so. gideon is her cavalier. her one flesh, her one end. and now this frozen barbie who has never had to do any of that to earn harrow’s love gets to live inside her (even though gideon isn’t 100% sure nona is alecto). is she even worthy of being that close to harrow? does she even love her? (DOES SHE EVEN LOVE HER???)

- ¡¡¡¡¡¡LIFE IS TOO SHORT AND LOVE IS TOO LONG!!!!!!!

- “… and Protocol One is ‘Live’.” something about the blood of eden being the descendants of a bunch of billionaires who pulled an atrociously unethical escape from a doomed planet. and years later, their protocol one is to live. no matter the cost, you do what you need to do. you survive. meanwhile the defendants of the resurrected people of earth are raised to believe that death is a tool to be utilized. it means less to die in the nine houses. survival is the natural human instinct, but necromancy has altered that. idk just thinking about the cultural differences between the houses and the boe/everyone else

- “It’s the easiest thing in the world…to forget.” (433) something something those who forget their history are destined to repeat it. it’s so easy to look away when faced with the tragedies of the world. it’s easy to ignore the events that have taken place before you were born, or in far away countries, or to groups that you don’t belong to. but complacency is how these things are able to continue. we owe it to each other to remember.

- “I want to journey to find God.” (435) / “God is a dream, Harrow.” (436) the ninth’s devotion to the emperor undying and the locked tomb has shaped harrow’s whole life. they worship something that none of them will ever see, which is faith. harrow may be a nun but she doesn’t possess this kind of blind devotion. she broke into the locked tomb to find out exactly what it was she was worshipping. she meets god, and he was nothing to worship. because god is a dream. something to be imagined.

- “‘Kiddie stay with us.’ So Nona stayed.” (438) well fuck me

- sometimes the only thing that keeps you going is remembering that there’s a dog at home

- “Then she suddenly became aware of something else; an insistent tugging at top thought, bottom thought, and middle thought. She wanted something. She didn’t quite know what it was, only she wanted it—“ (443) Abbey by Mitski (i am hungry / i have been hungry / i was born hungry / what do i need? // i am something / i have been something / i was born something / what could i be?)

- nona calling aiglamene “the most asymmetrical person that Nona had ever seen in her short life” she’s on the verge of death and still clocking everyone

- is pyrrha flirting with aiglamene???? she rlly is mumfucker prime

- YOU CAN’T TAKE LOVED AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- “‘Don’t worry, kiddie,’ she said tiredly. ‘I’ll keep loving you—my problem is I don’t know how to stop.’” STOP ENOUGH NO MORE

- ianthe and gideon dapping eachother up. how is this book real.

- “Good. Die. Die for her…it’s the only goddamn good thing you’ll ever do her. It’s all any of you ever knew how to give her. You could have lived for her…but you didn’t know how.” (472) oh, gideon:(((

- “Why didn’t it feel good?” (473) OH, GIDEON:(((

- “Destroy me according to thy word, for I love thee.” harrow GET UP

- “My hands are too stained, and I am too lowly.” the last chapter where alecto wakes up has so many bars

- ending my ntn annotations with a classic: “Get in line, thou big slut.” (477)

that’s it for nona! i made these to cope with the alectopause, so i hope it helps some of you all with cope too!

i’ll see you all in part four for alecto the ninth (someday) :’)

[orengejoshi]

do u write fanfics? i need to GOON 💔

damn brother, you just gonna come at me like that? alright I see you

that's a great question tho! I have indeed thought about writing a fic... for years tbh...

but there's a merit of problems

well first of all I'm not native in english. that is probably noticeable more often than not. I sometimes even use a translator, I always secretly got google/dict.cc open in a second tab. didn't formally learn english, I just snagged it by proxy listening to American Youtubers and reading manga online. that's why I prefer to ramble a bit in public or to my damn self in private areas than live-texting 1 on 1/in groups; bc I can take more time totally judgement-free. you're gonna see me "typing..." for 30 minutes and wonder wtf is taking this mf so long?!

apart from that there's dyslexia. I can't spell one word correctly without swipe-to-type autocorrect. I think all arguments I've gotten into stem from me mistyping, using completely wrong words, messing up the sentence structure etc

my brain is a single dense cloud of fog that'll occasionally split open to drizzle down a bunch of jumbled thoughts that I could turn into barely cohesive words if I'm brave enough and exude copious amounts of energy.

so my linguistic skills are not up to par. my intelligence lies more in... intrapersonal and existential departments.

unsurprisingly I've thus become a visual artist to express myself.

the catch is... that I understand paperhat, I do.

but I can't seem to draw toxic dynamics. my head is just empty about how to depict it. it's like it doesn't come naturally to me. not without going overboard and making a whole comic that I would likely abandon before even reaching the half mark. I've been given these angelic skills along with the curse that I shall only draw joyous, bright scenes.

however if I could write it... now we're talking.

as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that most of my ideas are way too dark and sober. people don't know me like that so I'm petrified about the presumably shocked response when and if I did drop smth like that.

I'm not ready for that... I have really severe OCD (that the internet is making way worse with their anxious tendencies to interpret smth sinister into any and all fiction that is not happiness and rainbows. which seems new to me, idk where this mindset to read so deep into shit is suddenly coming from. I was here 2017-19, left for like 3 years and all of a sudden everybody's fallen off their rockers)

writing domestic stuff is too boring for me... there's gotta be gut-wrenching horrors and drama and tragedy and conflict!

none of this would be PG (which is what I assume you're asking for anyway) I'd just write smut with sprinkles of character studies and a pinch of comedy mayhaps, but I used to do that about 10 years ago and it was so bad. the way I describe these scenes comes off very plump and cringe

I... might. dip my toes into it later this year.

I'll drop a few ideas in the tags... maybe 2 ideas. very roughly. without spoilers, just in case.

[thegremlininyourcloset]

hello it’s time for completely unprompted fic recs

oh and @fictfrenzy @asagewitch05 I think y’all would appreciate some of these

Strange Bedfellows by snackbaskets

Little known fact about bats: they're AWFUL at sleeping alone. At least, the ones in the Manor seem to be, if the half-conscious kind-of-maybe siblings using Duke as a body pillow are any indication. When did he sign up for this?

Countdown’s Notes: it’s soft and funny and I love the cuddles and the Duke love

Steph + Peter = Stepheter by WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN

Peter Parker has a secret.  And no–it’s not that one. Or that other one. Or the suspiciously spider-shaped one.  No: this secret has no shape at all.  Stop being dramatic.  Ah. There’s the secret.  Dude, seriously? The really annoying, shapeless secret that haunts Peter's night and day and dreams and— If you don't stop, I’m going to shave off your eyebrows and wash your stupid suit with May’s whites and then you’ll have to explain why all her sheets are pink again— —And anyway, point being, there's a teenage girl that lives in Peter's brain, and the whole thing is far less weird than whatever you are picturing.   OR: Peter and Steph share a soul. Across dimensions. It's really not as complicated as it seems. (Five times Stepheter freaked out the people around them, and one time something different happened.)

Countdown’s Notes: it’s unfinished, with 4 out of 6 chapters written, but I loved it all the same.

stephanie brown: robin by hadopelagion

Robin is gone. Batman is more violent than ever. Spoiler may want her dad in prison, but she doesn't want him dead. So there's only one thing to do - hit the Dark Knight with a brick.

OR: How the Spoiler found name, purpose, and family.

Third Robin Steph AU.

Countdown’s Notes: yes it only has one chapter written, but I am still reccing it because it’s incredibly promising and I love Steph and it’s gonna have t4t relationships

Take Two (We’ll Do Better This Time) by moomoo42

In a battle for the fate of the world, the Justice League loses. However, losing doesn’t mean that there’s nothing left to be done. Magic is a fickle thing, and destiny doesn’t like to be thwarted.

~

There are certain things that Dick and Bruce don’t talk about. Things like how Dick has always been able to understand what Bruce means when he grunts, or how he sometimes uses moves that Bruce hasn’t taught him yet, or how Bruce has red-yellow-green things everywhere and had installed a gymnastics room before even meeting Dick. It’s not like they can do anything about it, all the bits of knowing and feeling that appear like muscle memory and slip away like dreams. It’s just… how things are for them. It’s normal for the Manor to feel empty and quiet and lonely, filled with a pervasive sense of something missing. Dick sometimes finds himself wandering around, as if he could just find the right room then he could stick his head in and find—someone. Someones, plural.

(Or, the Bats don’t quite remember each other. They know no names, no faces, no details. But they remember enough, and once they find each other, it’ll take the world ending again before they let go.)

Countdown’s Notes: Its halfway done and 100% wonderful. How I long weird time travel AUs.

infans and its sequel fraterculus by windupclock

Black boots. Black clothes. Shadow too? Shrink back. Smaller. Smaller.

(Batman finds an eight-year-old shadow on the streets of Gotham. The shadow comes home.)

Countdown’s Notes: these might be my favorite Cass fics of all time. I adore how she is written and it’s just gorgeous

Honestly anything by windupclock is worth the read

No Body Nobody by snackbaskets

Now, worst case scenario: What’s so bad you call Jason?

Easy. You call him when you need someone beaten, killed, or otherwise met with incredible violence. You call him when you’re running away for a week because Bruce is being a dickhole. You call him when you want to eat food by someone who can cook Gothamite comfort, and to yell really really loud.

When she spoke again, it was with a whisper, strained as if it were creaking its way out of her body, wasting away all the air in her lungs and splintering on the last word in her mouth.

“Don’t tell Bruce.”

You call Jason when you need to hide a body.

This fic contains graphic depictions of violence/gore, mentions of sexual assault (NOT to Steph or Jason), and POV dissociation. Proceed with care

Countdown’s Notes: this one reads like a gut punch. Honestly, I think it permanently altered my brain chemistry

bonus update rec!

5 Times Dick Kissed Wally (kind of) + 1 Time Wally Kissed Him (and then some) by Evermoon2097

Wally finally felt his heart rate begin to slow, massaging the ice pack deeper into his throbbing shoulder. Robin, no–Dick, was sitting beside him, carefully wrapping his wrist, a popsicle stick serving to help set the sprain.

With one last gentle squeeze, Dick released his hand. “Okay, you should be fine in the morning. Try to stick to kicks on patrol, even with your healing factor you might still feel sore,” he instructed.

Wally felt his mouth quirk up. “Okay, worrywart. What, you not gonna kiss it better?"

Dick’s eyes glinted and before Wally knew it, Dick had grabbed his hand and dramatically popped a smooch on his wrapped wrist, before looking up and sticking his tongue out at him.

Wally stuck his own out in retaliation, blowing a raspberry.

A collection of fics that get progressively longer and more out of my own control where Wally gets a friend, abused, bludgeoned, and killed, and Dick gets a friend, worries, traumas, and grief. Yikes. They end up happy though!

Countdown’s Notes: this fic took me on a fucking rollercoaster ride