#in the end everything's always about money

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

some jayvik headcanons to pass the time and ignore the pain

There is a Viktor fan club at the academy. He is unaware. They discuss his projects, his accent, his looks. Meetings are the last Thursday of every month.

Jayce accidentally stumbled into one of the meetings. They barely played off they were talking about his partner. (He still can't find any info on the "book" they were talking about, thinking Caitlyn would be interested.) (He forgets that Victorian-looking men with accents aren't on her radar.)

Jayce also has a fan club. He is aware of it. (They have invited him to meetings). They talk about his projects, his hair, his face, his line of mugs. Their banner is one of his shirts. (He is unaware of this part.)

Viktor is also aware of the club. (He gave them the shirt.)

Jayce and Viktor both hate the cold (Jayce for the snowstorm, Viktor for his leg) so whenever it was winter they were bundled up like the kid from A Christmas Story.

Viktor mixes up metaphors. He constantly uses malaphors (unintentionally) and Jayce doesn't have it in his heart to correct him. "All the ducks are aligning" is his favorite by far.

Jayce tried learning Viktor's native language to surprise him one day. (I imagine it as a mix of Czech and Polish). He ended up saying a mix of a whole bunch of nonsense, so confidently) which made Viktor laugh himself into a coughing fit.

more under cut cause this is getting long

(Viktor couldn't look at Jayce for two days after without laughing.)

Viktor has a sweet tooth, Jayce has a savory one.

Their third year as lab partners, a section of the library caught on fire. The culprit was never found. (It was them, and they both blame the other.) (It was Viktor)

Jayce enjoys suspenseful novels. Viktor, when he can be persuaded, enjoys historical fiction.

Their mortal enemy is the student who's lab is across from theirs. Viktor hates him because he's egotistical with no real skill. Jayce hates him because he always complains they're making too much noise. Their mortal enemy is unaware he is their mortal enemy.

They have a "days without incident" chart in their lab. Incidents no longer include cuts, scrapes, bruises, small explosions, broken prototypes, because if they did it would always be at 0.

Their fifth year, the auditorium stage caught on fire. A group of first years were blamed. (It was Jayce, though Viktor thought it wasn't a big deal.)

Jayce is organized, Viktor is not. Jayce puts things in organized shelves, Viktor puts things where he knows he'll need them next. This is a point of tension for the longest time, until Mel stepped in and told them to either compromise or get two of everything.

They got two of everything.

Jayce designed Viktor's cane (after the first one broke) and his leg brace.

Viktor can play the harp. Jayce can play the piano.

Everyone believes Viktor is the one keeping Jayce under control in experiments. (as referenced in this post) No one knows besides Heimerdinger that Viktor learned lab safety in a drug den. The counsel refers to Viktor as the "sane, calm one" but only Mel and Cassandra know the truth. Both think it's funnier to not deny it.

Viktor stays at Jayce's place most often. Jayce secretly moved most of Viktor's things to his place, until officially asking him to move in.

Jayce also helped design a new back brace for Viktor. It was more comfortable, made of thick cloth, and relieved so much back pain he started crying when he tried it on. This is what got them together, because Viktor kissed him in thanks, and Jayce was like "finally!!" and started kissing him back.

Money was exchanged after the Academy/Counsel found out they became official. Shoola, Mel and Cassandra got a big payout. Heimerdinger had no idea about the bet, mostly because he thought they were already together.

This led to the fanclub war. Jayce fans vs Viktor fans, until a hero came around (Sky) and was like, why not both? (And thus, the Jayvik fan-club was born)

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. They had a fight and just sort of made each other laugh when they were talking. Which is why they married each other in the first place. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

The slam of a door echoes through the house, not loud enough to be angry, but firm enough to leave no room for ambiguity. You exhale sharply, your arms crossed as you stand in the kitchen, staring at the countertop. The argument wasn’t supposed to spiral like this—not over something so trivial. It was about the schedule for the weekend, who was supposed to handle what, and somehow, it had escalated into a full-blown disagreement.

Toto had walked out to the living room, his long strides carrying him away from your raised voice. That alone had been enough to irritate you further. You can hear him now, somewhere in the house, moving things around, his presence as large and impossible to ignore as ever. You don’t have the energy to follow after him or continue the argument. Instead, you open a cabinet and begin tidying up the already-organized shelves, trying to distract yourself from the simmering frustration.

Minutes pass. It’s quiet, except for the soft clinking of plates as you rearrange them. You wonder if he’s sitting on the couch, brooding, or maybe pacing around as he tends to do when his emotions get the better of him. The thought of his long legs covering endless ground in the small space almost makes you smile—almost.

The sound of footsteps pulls you out of your thoughts. You don’t turn around, though. You’re not ready to engage again.

“Are you seriously reorganizing the dishes?” his voice comes from the doorway, a mixture of incredulity and amusement. It’s the first time he’s spoken since the argument ended in stalemate.

You set down a plate with a bit more force than necessary and glance over your shoulder. “Yes. It’s productive. Unlike—” You cut yourself off, not wanting to reignite the tension. “It’s fine.”

Toto leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his head tilted as he studies you. “You always do this,” he says, and there’s a warmth creeping into his voice that you don’t want to acknowledge just yet. “You get annoyed and suddenly everything in the house has to be spotless.”

“It’s better than stomping away dramatically like someone I know,” you retort, turning back to your dishes.

There’s a beat of silence, and then he chuckles—a low, rich sound that breaks through the lingering anger like sunlight cutting through clouds. “Dramatic? Me? Darling, you slammed the cupboard doors like they owed you money.”

You freeze for a moment, your hands on a glass, and then you laugh despite yourself. It’s a small, involuntary sound that you quickly smother, but he hears it. Of course he does. Toto has a way of catching even the things you try to hide.

When you finally turn to face him, he’s grinning—crooked, boyish, and entirely disarming. It’s the grin that had charmed you all those years ago, back when he was just the ambitious team principal trying to win your heart. You sigh, leaning back against the counter, your earlier frustration melting away.

“You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

“And yet,” he replies, stepping closer, “you married me.”

“Regretting it now,” you quip, but your smile betrays you.

Toto closes the distance between you, his hands finding your waist. He bends slightly to meet your eyes, his gaze soft and sincere. “No, you’re not,” he murmurs. “Because you know no one else would put up with either of us.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing again. He’s right, of course. That’s always been the thing about the two of you—you clash, you bicker, but at the end of the day, you understand each other in a way that no one else could. It’s infuriating and comforting all at once.

“I hate that you’re right,” you admit, resting your hands on his chest.

“Not all the time,” he says with mock solemnity. “Just most of the time.”

“You’re still sleeping on the couch tonight,” you tease, though your tone is far too soft to be threatening.

“Am I?��� he challenges, his brow arching. “We’ll see about that.”

The playfulness in his voice is enough to send a flutter through your chest. It’s moments like these—when the tension dissolves into laughter, when you’re reminded of why you fell in love in the first place—that make everything else worth it. You lean into him, your forehead resting against his, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

“Truce?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

“Truce,” you agree. “But only if you help me finish organizing the dishes.”

He groans theatrically, but there’s no real protest in it. “Fine. But if I break something, it’s your fault for making me do this.”

“You’re a grown man,” you reply, grinning. “Figure it out.”

He laughs again, and the sound fills the room, warm and familiar. As the two of you work side by side, bickering playfully over the proper placement of bowls and glasses, it strikes you how ridiculous the whole fight had been. But maybe that’s the secret to your marriage—knowing how to find each other again, even after the most ridiculous of arguments.

And as Toto leans over to kiss your temple, murmuring something about you being “far too stubborn for your own good,” you can’t help but think that, yes, this is exactly why you married him.

[andiloveher]

"are you dead yet?" a calvin gabriel analysis

a/n: this movie is my current hyperfixition right now and this is just my personal take on the character, ben is a genius :) some of these quotes are out of order

thinking about the intro/beginning scene. that evil ass kid. cal gives such theater kid vibes omg.

i don't have much to say about the opening scenes, i think ben gives an amazing way of setting up the character dynamic between andre and cal. at first, it almost feels like he created an empty character out of cal, so it could be easy for someone to step into his shoes and relate to him (until later). cal is usually the one behind the camera, this isn't to say that he is less important than andre but i feel like this is where people start to create that 'soft and innocent' idea of cal. i can imagine him standing behind the camera with a stupid little grin on his face.

thinking about the firework scene; lets get the first thing straight, cal was not manipulated, gaslit or the 'soft and innocent' one here, and neither is andre. both are to blame for this. notice how excited cal is, or at least fakes it. even while watching the fireworks, he seems unamused compared to andre (who calls this out). i think cal has always been a very closed off person, he can be very ignorant and annoying as depicted at the poem scene and several scenes with andre.

thinking about cal's first solo video entry ; "everything is planned so methodically." i LOVE the way he used that word and why he used it. methodically means structured or in an orderly fashion. i think it's a perfect use of the word, the fact that at first they never had a date, they had a plan and knew exactly how they would execute it. "it's gonna be unreal. it's gonna be beautiful." cal looks off as he speaks, almost like he's spacing out while imagining it. cal knew exactly what was to come, and almost fantasized about it. the thought it was beautiful. he starts examining the camera etc, as if he wasn't just talking about a mass shooting, he treats this very lightly. as if, it's just another sadistic thought. "we are gonna leave you all behind, just sticks in the mud that andre and i have made. we are gonna walk away. you see, we see more than you do." cal is fully aware of what's to come, almost as if he's planned this for years ahead. it reminds me of the tate quote "I'm prepared for the noble war."

nearing the end of his 'monologe' he starts spacing out his words, taking longer to deliver what he's about to say as if he's trying to justify it or make someone understand why they are gonna do what they are about to do.

thinking about the party scene; cal silently makes his way out of the party to sit on the steps with andre. when he gets down to the step he basically slouches over, covering his face as if he's exhausted. "i'm just not good at parties."

he keeps his arms crossed over him but his legs out. his legs out are a sense of comfort with andre but i feel like him keeping his arms crossed is because he still feels very closed off or uncomfortable. he stays very quiet while andre talks with his cousin. apparently they have been friends since about sixth grade and cal has been with his family before, yet he still feels anxious and closed off to them.

thinking about the braces scene; ben did this in a lovely way and he's an actually genius. "his parents spent all that money for years on his teeth, just for him to blow them through his skull." - ben in the Zero Day Commantary

thinking about the grave scene; another one of my personal favorite scenes. cal is very defensive on andre during this scene as rachel basically describes him as a bad influence on cal. i feel as if cal is getting defensive because andre was able to understand him in a way no one else would, someone who understood his sadistic ideas and even help him go through with it. someone who saw the need for a 'beautiful' cleansing.

i also think he got defensive when rachel started to describe andre as like the ring leader of all of this, cal wanted his credit and i think this tied alot into the shooting scene later on.

"im insecure and i need attention." god someone get this boy a myspace page.

thinking about the camping scene; where cal jokes around with his family alot, i wonder how his younger siblings felt afterwards

thinking about the poem scene; i don't think the poem has much meaning - also basing it off what Ben said. just some edgy thing a teenager would say.

cal doesn't seem to take anything seriously. being obnoxious to the other people who were there, ignoring andre's points on trying to stay secretive. cal couldnt give less than a fuck.

im jumping far

thinking about the shooting scene;omfgomfgomfg. in the car it's like we see cal truly happy when he is about to ruin people's lives, his smile seems so genuine like he's ecstatic.

when him and andre get in the building, he seems so focused on his first shot, quick to make sure there are no more people.

don't even get me started on the library scene omg

the way cal walks ontop of the tables, showing a sign of authority over everyone else. a moment where he can finally feel larger than others, where he no longer has to worry about staying in his little bubble.

"are you dead yet?" is my favorite quote from the scene. it's filled with so much anger and almost irony. he's taunting them, he laughed at the idea of someone trying to talk him out of it. i think this was the most freeing moment for cal.

i also think he was ready to die, his last conversation to andre says so much. telling him "you're done." isn't of "i'm done" or "we're done." he was prepared to paint the ceiling with his brains - while andre was so hesitant. UGH I COULD TALK ABOUT THID MOVIE FOREVER

[tleeaves]

There are two wolves inside me. One wants to embrace a new hobby in dance so I can be active and feel elegant and graceful and strong. This wolf wants to try something new and exciting, finally indulging in something I've always had an interest in.

The other experiences such frustrating emotions on a near daily basis that I want to go back to boxing, which is arguably easier to break into since I've already done it before. This wolf doesn't think of elegance, she just wants to fuck shit up until her body's so overworked and warm it fogs up car windows without having to do anything but sit inside.

Which one do I fucking feed??

[blueblossomrose]

Pairing: Fellow Honest x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fellow sees you in Playful Land with your friends, thinks you're a rich girl by the way you act and the fact that you study at Night Raven College, and tries to get money from you, only to end up falling in love.

Notice(s): Inspired by "The Lady and the Tramp", Female reader, Reader is the MC, but Yuu(ken Enma) is also here, not nsfw but slightly spicy? We kinda have a french kiss here.

Request?: No.

Notes: I refuse to call him Ernesto, except in a specific Rapunzel-like fanfic where he is Eugene.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

He could have sworn you were a rich girl. I mean, look at the way you carried yourself! Like a true lady. Eyes wide open, paying attention to everything and everyone, with a polite and kind smile on your face. Your excitement was restrained but evident. You always sat with your legs crossed.

As if your good behavior wasn't evidence enough, you were still wearing that damn uniform. Night Raven College. An elite school.

He didn't think he needed more. He has his conclusion.

Even if you are not extremely rich, some money you must have. And he will get it from you. He and Gidel need it more than you do, anyway.

He thought about how he could do this. First he had to separate you from your friends. Leave you alone with him.

Fellow approached slowly, like a predator carefully observing its prey. He adjusted his posture, donned an unassuming smile, and gave you a slight nod. He knew he needed to be strategic, charming, but not invasive. After all, winning over someone like you required delicacy.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re enjoying our park with such enthusiasm. It’s always a pleasure to see such a charming visitor here.”

You looked at him curiously, a glint of surprise and interest dancing in your eyes. He knew he had your attention.

“Oh, yes, it’s a wonderful place!” you replied, your voice polite but with a touch of excitement. “I didn’t know it would be so much fun!”

Fellow made a gesture of slight mock indignation, placing a hand on his chest.

“Are you saying you underestimated our Playful Land? Oh, that breaks my heart!” He let out a light, relaxed laugh, as if you were already friends. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it. By the way, let me introduce myself: I’m Fellow Honest, one of the park’s managers.”

“Manager?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. He nodded, as if carrying a weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

“Of course. Not only do I help take care of the park, but I also make sure our guests have the best experience possible. And speaking of which…” He glanced around, as if searching for something. “I noticed your friends seem a little scattered. It’s a shame to leave you alone.”

You shakes your head, showing that you were comfortable on your own. “They went to explore some attractions. I preferred to stay here for a while.”

It was exactly the break Fellow needed. He gestured with his hand, as if he were putting on a great show.

“In that case, perhaps I could be your companion? I can show you the secrets of this place that no one else knows about. After all, it’s not often we have such special guests.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. There was something in his eyes, in the way he spoke, that was hard to resist. “Okay, of course! Why not?”

Fellow’s smile widened, and he offered his hand, like a gentleman ready to lead her. Inwardly, he cheered. This was the first step in the plan.

But as they walked together, something unexpected began to happen. As he talked about the park, making jokes and telling charming stories, Fellow noticed something he hadn’t expected. There was something in your laughter, in the way you responded to his words, that made his heart race. It wasn’t the kind of racing that came from getting what you wanted, but something more genuine, more dangerous.

He tried to ignore it. He tried to remind himself that this was a scam, nothing more. But with every step you took together, with every smile you gave him, he felt the plan begin to slip away from his control. Why, suddenly, couldn’t he stop looking at you?

It got to the point where the two of you finally arrived at the location Fellow had so carefully planned. It was a corner in the back of a restaurant, near one of the park’s quieter attractions, where there was little traffic. Despite its modest location, the place felt cozy. String lights hung unassumingly, illuminating the space with a soft, golden glow, creating a curiously intimate atmosphere.

Fellow pulled out one of the chairs for you, giving you a slight theatrical bow as he spoke. “Milady, allow me to offer you a seat in our 'VIP area'. Not all visitors are lucky enough to experience this!”

You laughed softly at the act, accepting the chair. Fellow seemed pleased with your answer, but there was a hint of nervousness in his smile that he quickly tried to hide. He discreetly signaled to Gidel, who was hiding behind a nearby dumpster, waiting for the right moment.

As you looked around, taking in the peculiar surroundings, Fellow quickly took the chair next from you, leaning slightly closer to you. He propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand, as if he was completely absorbed by your presence.

As soon as Gidel brought the food, you couldn't help but just eat it. You liked to eat a lot, and personally you stopped holding back.

Fellow watched in shock as you shoveled a spoonful of spaghetti with meatballs into your mouth.

You ate... a lot. He was surprised to see that graceful young lady eating an entire plate so quickly, but what surprised him even more was... how charming you still looked, even with your cheeks a little stained with sauce.

“You’ve just so cute...” Fellow complimented as you ate.

"Hmm?" you lifted your head, your cheeks puffed up with food.

He chuckled, gently poking your cheek. He was quite amused by your innocent behavior. It was an endearing quality that drove him crazy. He set down his silverware and looked over at you. A smile on his face.

“You’re even more beautiful when you eat, y’know. Like a chipmunk.”

You can't help but blush, laughing awkwardly as you swallows your food. “I-Is that so?... That's so kind of you!”

“It’s honest too.” He said, almost with a wink.

You can't help but laugh at the slightly joke.

He smiled as you laughed before going back to eating his food. Every so often, his eyes would flick up to look at you. He let out a mental sigh before deciding to get cheeky. He reached over with his foot, brushing against your ankle before slowly traveling up your leg. He was testing his luck, seeing how you’d react. Would you kick him? Move away? Let it continue?

You didn't seem to take it as flirting, so you just smiled and looked at him, thinking he wanted to say something.

He wasn’t expecting you to not notice. How dense could a person be? He almost wondered if you were actually doing this on purpose. Or maybe you just don't understand indirect flirting?

He decided to test the waters a little more. He moved a little closer to you, and when you were a little more distracted, he took the cutlery out of your hands with a smooth, light pushing motion.

"Huh?" You looked at him, with some confusion.

He simply placed a finger over his lip in a shushing gesture. He set the cutlery down before grabbing a napkin. Then, with a smile, he reached over to your cheek and wiped away a small sauce stain. "What about... we try something different? In some places, it's refined to eat without cutlery..."

"Eat without cutlery?"

He gave you a sly smile as he nodded. He took off his gloves, picking up a strand of spaghetti. "Try it. I promise it's not as barbaric as you think."

You shyly picks up the end of the spaghetti and puts it in your mouth. Fellow hums in approval at your action. He leans forward a bit more as he take the other side of the spaghetti.

Fellow’s expression was sly, his eyes slightly half-lidded as he let your faces get closer. He slowly started to close the distance, using the excuse of eating the spaghetti. His face was only inches away from yours, to the point he could feel your breath on his lips.

You didn't even move away, just standing there, your breathing becoming sporadic.

He inched closer, a smug smile on his face. He got you right where he wanted. When the distance was only centimeters apart, he licked some sauce off his lips, using it as an excuse to run his tongue right over your bottom lip.

You shivered, widening your eyes.

Fellow chuckled a little when you shivered, knowing exactly what effect he was having on you. He licked his lip again, now only a few millimeters from your own.

“You taste… even better with sauce...” He mumbled out, low.

"M-Mr. Honest..." You stuttered.

His smile grew at your breathless words.

“Hm? What is it?” He teased. His tone, the way looked at you… it was like a hawk that found its prey.

"W-Why... y-you look at me like that?..."

He chuckled to himself. He moved one hand up to your cheek and cupped it gently, his thumb running over your cheek.

“Can’t you tell, darling?” He purred out. "You look like a bunny right now, you know?... and... I guess you know what foxes do with bunnies."

...

"Where the f*ck is MC?" Ace questions Yuuken as the two are heading towards the cotton candy stand to find Floyd, Jade, and Lilia.

"Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her since the prize booth..." Yuu says thoughtfully, and soon becoming desperate. "OH MY STARS! We have to find her!" Yuu was about to run away, but then he turned back and grabbed Ace to go with him.

[rebouks]

Do you have any recommendations for starting a story? Yours is so good and it really inspires me to try and make one of my own but idk where to start

Hmmm a tough question! I think we all just kinda start and learn as we go? It's the best way tbh.. if you look back at the beginning of most simblr stories they've usually come a long way! Here's a couple tips that I think might be handy tho...

Maybe we could start a thread and everyone could reblog this with their own tips?! 🤩

Decide if you want to build your own lots/sets or not. If you do you'll probs wanna start off with the main places you'll use that're full of personality, like a main characters house or place of work etc. you can always download some neat lots and edit them to your liking if you're not a builder, or maybe even download a whole save file!

Start a character page (or make an intro post for em if you can't be arsed with the technicalities) - not essential but useful for you and the readers to keep track of who's who and maybe state a few facts about them etc.

Start collecting some poses and ideally rename them so they're easy to find! I personally like to add smth like [PETS] or [KISSING] etc to mine (in s4s) in conjunction with twistedmexi's pose finder to make things easier to grab.

If you use reshade/gshade, taking the time to find or create a nice preset will save you a bunch of time editing.

For the love of god if you're gonna make a bunch of extras, try and dress them in maxis clothes/hair.. I'm so SICK of having to redress everyone every time I clear out a bunch of cc skjdksj 🙈 you can always give em an extra, fancy cc outfit for specific scenes on the day but yeah, do yourself a solid where possible to save time/pain in the future. Same goes for lots you don't use often, try and limit the cc you use!

Figure out if you're a planner or not! If you can't manage without a plan it's okay to take some time before starting to figure everything out and get a detailed outline going. If you're more of a pantser (like me!) you can always just get going with a rough idea in mind and see what happens!

If you're gonna go with the flow I'd still recommend creating at least a rough outline, you don't have to stick to it like glue but it'll probs help you stay on track and I wish I'd have done this in the beginning, esp if you're gonna have a plot heavy story.

Characters > plot.. (imo!) like.. you could have a super interesting plot in mind but if no one really knows or cares about your characters it's gonna have a limited impact/amount of interest. They don't even have to be likable lmao

Give your characters some flaws! It's fun and it makes them more relatable.

Start with a small cast - not a complete must but it'll be probably be easier for people to get to know your pixels if they're aren't a million of them right off the bat. You can always add more later.

Try not to shoehorn your characters into situations they wouldn't end up in just to further the plot.. a hard one to explain and mostly based on intuition but if a scene feels boring, out of place or forced, it probably is! aka.. be willing to kill your darlings. Maybe you've already established that your character is poor or smth but have this fun idea of a road trip montage or whatever.. like you can't just give them a car and the money to drive a million miles just cos you HAVE to see that scene y'know? Maybe they're gonna have to hitch hike, get the bus, or take out a loan? Probs a bad example but hopefully you get the idea! It can sometimes be more fun to force your characters into a different situation than you imagined anyway, like maybe they meet someone really neat on the bus and they join the trip, or maybe whoever they borrowed money from gets all pissy when they can't pay em back quick enough etc etc.

Let your characters guide you - sometimes characters talk to us! You could've had a whole storyline planned for them, or a romance of whatever, but when it comes down to it, it just doesn't feel right and that's okay! Let them lead you in a different direction now n' then.

Write for you! (ugh becca stfu with this shit) I know, I know but really.. if you're not having fun, what's the point? Don't write what you think other people want and learn to be okay with cutting ideas/scenes/characters/whatever! that you aren't excited about anymore. It should never feel like a chore to create, and if it starts to feel that way, take a break or change it up!

I feel like this is super rambly and I've missed a million obvious things but my brain is mashed potato rn lmao.. pls feel free to add your own tips in a reblog or a comment - everyone has a different take on things! I think it's really important just to start and see what feels natural tho 🤸‍♀️🧡

[cosmerelists]

Pros and Cons of Inviting Cosmere Shards to your Next Boardgame Night

So you want to invite a fragment of Adonalsium to your next boardgame night? You do you, but here are some pros & cons you might want to consider first.

1. Autonomy [Taldain; White Sand]

Pros: If you're good, Autonomy will respect you. You actually managed to complete the coast to coast railroad in Ticket to Ride? Autonomy is giving that a fist bump.

Cons: If you are bad at your chosen game, or even if you just have a bad night, Autonomy may simply kill you.

2. Preservation [Scadrial; Mistborn]

Cons: Preservation HATES it when the game progresses. You've been playing Risk for three hours now, and Preservation is still trying to get it to look like it did at setup. He's crying.

Pros: Preservation doesn't mind losing. He kinda likes it if his score stays at 0.

3. Ruin [Scadrial; Mistborn]

Pros: Ruin is not a bad loser either.

Cons: In fact, Ruin hopes that EVERYONE will lose. He's mainly in it to see everything burn. Do NOT play Pandemic with Ruin.

4. Harmony [Scadrial; Mistborn]

Cons: You are SO SURE that Harmony is trying to manipulate how you play.

Pros: H-He just put down a Scrabble word that can be pluralized one square away from the triple word score tile--is he trying to manipulate you into winning?! Does he want the game to be easy for you??

5. Honor [Roshar; Stormlight]

Pros: He will DEFINITELY not cheat.

Cons: He's just...a bit of a windbag, you know? He tells like the same six stories over and over again and always looks at you like he thinks he's changing your life. It's like--it's been your turn for five minutes now!

6. Dominion [Sel; Elantris]

Cons: Ugh, Dominion is the WORST winner. Laughing, mocking you, rubbing your face in it... It's like, cool it. We are playing Settlers of Catan.

Pros: ...It's actually very satisfying to beat her, especially at the card-building guide Dominion. Heh heh. Heheheheh.

7. Devotion [Sel; Elantris]

Pros: Devotion has a whole library of fun co-op games where everyone wins! It's delightful!

Cons: Just once you wish you could play a competitive game. With winners and losers. But you just can't take Devotion's round, moist eyes when you suggest it.

8. Endowment [Nalthis; Warbreaker]

Cons: It's not too bad of a con, really, but she is REALLY particular about what piece color she gets.

Pros: She always brings snacks! And she never asks for anyone else to take their turn or anything; she just likes to bring stuff!

9. Cultivation [Roshar; Stormlight]

Pros: You swear that playing with Cultivation has made you a better player. Yes, she kicks your butt at Checkers repeatedly, but she also seems to want you to get better at the game. It's kind of sweet.

Cons: You just wish she could be more...normal about win conditions. "Winner gets to pick the takeout place!" Normal! "And winner also has to pour a glass of water over their head!" Now it's weird.

10. Virtuosity [Komashi; Yumi and the Nightmare Painter]

Cons: Sometimes you like a game, and you'd like to try it again. But Virtuosity always pooh-poohs that idea. She only likes to try new games.

Pros: She's always really taken with the art on the game box. It's kinda sweet.

11. Odium, Rayse vessel [Roshar; Stormlight]

Pros: Odium understands and adheres to the spirit of the game, and he doesn't take it personally. When you block his Draw 2 with a Draw 2 of your own, he just shakes his head and comments that it's his own fault for agreeing to house rules.

Cons: Whenever someone loses, Odium insists that they be banned from game night forever. Sometimes you catch a cold look in his eye, like he intends to be the only boardgame player left at the end of this...but that would be crazy, right??

12. Odium, [spoilers-for-Rhythm-of-War] vessel [Roshar, Stormlight]

Cons: You thought you were playing by house rules Monopoly, you know, like everyone does, when all of the sudden Odium stops your brother from loaning you some money by calmly pointing out that it isn't allowed in the official rules. Suddenly you see that he has the Official Rule Book in hand. Many pages are earmarked. A chill comes over you.

Pros: Well, you agreed that if the Monopoly game lasted longer than two hours, then whoever was up at that point would simply win. S-So, at least there's an end in sight? Why are you so scared though??

13. Ambition [Threnody; Shadows for Silence]

Pros: Whenever someone gets eliminated from your weekly poker game because they run out of chips, Ambition insists that they stay at the table and continue having a role in the game. How sweet!

Cons: ...is what you would say, if the role weren't sitting there in silence, watching for any rule-breaking (like card counting or collusion). Ambition always says that the punishment for rule-breaking is...death. You know she's kidding.

You think she's kidding.

You might stop inviting her.

[senselessviolets]

“stay soft”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E (Smut)

Word Count: 3.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

Mommy kink, smut, some plot, this man has MOMMY ISSUES™️, gentle femdom, titplay, breast sucking, so much dirty talk, Roman gets called “baby” a lot, no PIV, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

The people have spoken—y’all want Roman being fucking babied in bed so that’s what the fuck I did and I have zero regrets. Totally gave up in the end but school’s been incredibly draining for me so I’m proud of myself for even getting THIS out.

[Gif creds: I forget. if it’s yours, lemme know!!]

Summary:

You are an equally wealthy childhood friend of the Roys and Roman in particular. After years of little to no contact with him, he and you decide to finally act on the mutual attraction you both share in the most ‘Roman way’ you can think of. 

“Okay, but like if we…fuckin’...if we fuckin’ do this, I will want…some things. But I’m not g’na fuckin’ beg or anything…call you mommy, ‘goo goo ga ga’…none of that shit. I will want you…to be there…and I will want you to ‘not be there’...if you catch my drift. I-I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word or a single moan. I don’t want—I just don’t want it, okay. And this might sound bad—even though I’ve definitely said worse—but you would be just a-a means for me,” a voicemail blears in your ear as you are made aware of the four calls you missed in your slumber, “‘Kay? I dunno. Think it over. It’s not fuckin’ life or death. Until it is. And I kill you. And hide the body and burn the evidence…kidding! ‘Kay, love you, kidding, ‘kay, bye!”

This was uncharted territory for you both. 

You and Roman and the other Roy children were longtime family friends. Like Stewy Hosseni or a lesser example Ray Kennedy. What that meant was your incredibly loaded dad gave Logan Roy an ungodly sum of money in the nineties and had managed to stay on his good side ever since. At their status, that’s what qualified as ‘friendship’. Everything was a transaction at the end of the day. Like you suspected Logan and Caroline had bought their way into their kids’ hearts, to even be in the same room as these titans—to breathe the same air—you had to beg, steal, or borrow. Fortunately, you hailed from less-than-humble beginnings; your father being an incredibly successful venture capitalist-turned-philanthropist and your mother the heiress of a billion-dollar publishing company. 

But it was all just details. 

You were eternally grateful to be an only child, imagining an existence where you and your progeny were destined to forever claw at each other's throats—all for whatever scraps your parents were generous enough to leave you.

Unfortunate. ‘Pitiful’ felt more accurate. Every hollow soiree and vapid function served as a reminder. These were not your people. And they never would be. And yet—

“Heya! Well, you look less miserable than usual. Lemme guess, you finally ditched Loser What’s-His-Face and have taken up my longstanding advice of giving lesbianism a try,”

“Hi, Roman. No, I’ve actually been reminiscing about our younger years together. Remember the time you threw up in your mouth before presenting me my corsage the night of the winter formal? Seventh grade? Ring a bell?”

“That was because it only dawned upon me then that I would be getting Cody Keener’s sloppy seconds,” he answers, “I just couldn’t cope with that, I’m sorry,”

You slug him in the arm and he reacts overdramatically, as if someone stuck him with the pointy end of a knife. Onlookers included none other than Frank Vernon, Hugo Baker, and a close friend of your mom’s, Michelle Anne. This time, you and Roman had crossed paths at your father’s 70th birthday party. It was held at your parents’ penthouse on the Upper East Side and attracted a decent crowd. Faces you’d sworn you met pass you by as strangers come up to you, recounting memories of you who were only this tall. It was always a discombobulating experience but you continued to frolic and mingle nonetheless. 

In truth, this little ‘reunion’ was nothing but a facade. 

You and Roman had been talking for weeks now after years of no contact with one another. Brief texts turned into prolonged phone calls which by the end of the night became one-sided, pathetic voicemails expressing some sort of yearning for the other. It was becoming all-consuming and quite frankly, exhausting. And now it had finally come to blows. 

There was a plan, there were contingencies (of course, there were) but above all—there was transparency. And that was something you could hold onto. Oh, the many men who lied their way into your bed. And then here comes Roman, who’d made it abundantly clear he’d rather inhale glass than have you worm your way into his. So this scheme would not transpire at his place or yours. 

It would be occurring in a Central Park Suite at The Carlyle—just a quick jaunt from your parents’ place. He deigned to be a gentleman and handled the reservations as well as your transportation because you had to already be there. You were going to be lying on the bed, in some satiny sleepwear. No lingerie, no hosiery—nothing that could be construed as ‘sexy’. You were to look mundane, average, and bored. 

Roman would enter and you would be still and let him do as he pleased. While you’d had this endeavor nailed to a T, you’d be lying if you said the prospect of him going off-script—doing things rougher, harder, doors off the hinges, letting his darker impulses get the better of him—didn’t make your knees buckle a bit. 

So once the candles had been blown, the birthday wishes made, and goodbyes were said—you were to slide into his black Range Rover SV while his secondary chauffeur Crispin brought you to your destination. In your duffel was your change of clothes and a few other goodies. It had crossed your mind—once, twice how exceedingly easy it would be to bail right about now. Crispin could drop you off on the side of the road like some floozy and then your personal chauffeur could pick you up and drive you back to your cozy brownstone for a mundane evening spent by yourself—alone. That was the part that struck a pang in your stomach. That was the truly unbearable part. That, and the heat between your thighs which was starting to become really inconvenient. 

Now was not the time to get cold feet. 

You had already slid your sequin cocktail dress off and exchanged it for your satin sleepwear. Like the pretty kept thing he’d instructed you to be, you lay flat across the plush hotel mattress, awaiting his arrival, legs swinging to and fro like an eager teenage girl.

Maybe he’d be the one to pussy out.

At least then you’d have yet another thing to hold over his head for the foreseeable future. In your phone’s front-facing camera, you inspected the makeup you’d done earlier that evening for the party and it still seemed sufficient. Your lips seemed a bit drab. You roll off the bed and I sift through the contents of your bag, searching for the mauve lip color you’d brought along. Dabbing it onto the purse of your mouth while gazing into the mirror of the room’s modest vanity—you begin to lose track. 

This isn’t it and you know it. 

You know it. 

So fucking do something about it. 

Examining the time on the wall clock, you decide to hastily shake off your striped satin pj set and tear through your duffel for the sheer lace slip and matching long gloves. Not liking the unkemptness of your long hair at this particular moment, you palm your bag for one of the chignon French hairpins that had sunk their way to the bottom—a go-to for you since your younger years. The best you can muster is a half-up, loose, more-than-messy low bun because suddenly, a knock on the door can be heard. Your heart leaps into your throat and you shove your duffel bag into the armoire in a hurried panic. The click of the hotel room’s keycard lock comes next and you spring to the door as to be the one to open it. You and Roman meet each other’s gaze through the crack of the half-open door, you two beam down at your hands, enclosed over both sides of the handle. He is very noticeably startled, not expecting you to answer the door.

“C-Come on in,” you stutter, gesturing into the hotel suite with a gloved hand. 

Roman’s mouth goes dry. It is not all that often the family jester is able to be truly caught off-guard. This absolutely was one of those times. He shuffles into the room with tepid steps and doesn’t turn around to face you until he hears the door click shut. With a blank, nonchalant expression—he shrugs, prompting you to provide some sort of explanation. Of which, you do not possess. 

“What?” you say. 

“What’s…all of that about?”

“Yeah, sorry…wasn’t really feeling the pajamas tonight. I opted for something I felt was a little more fitting. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,”

He definitely fucking does mind actually. But any frustration at being caught unawares expresses itself in the form of big beautiful hazel eyes beaming at you with fear and uncertainty. His lips are parted, unable to form the words he can’t even begin to think of at this particular moment.

“So…,”

“...so…?”

“So…lay down,” you finally say.

Roman is able to briefly channel the smarmy assholeishness he usually hones with a sarcastic scoff and smirk. He shakes his head to himself before his gaze finds the floor. 

“...I’m sorry, maybe you just didn’t hear me right the first time,” you say, crossing over until you are eye-to-eye with him and your competing breaths can be felt, “...or maybe I should’ve been a bit more specific.”

You lean in until your lips brush the outer shell of his right ear and he stops breathing. 

“Roman. Lay the fuck down on that bed. Now.”

He quickly scrambles onto the bed, resting on his back while slightly sitting up. There is a tentative eagerness in his demeanor as if the last hints of resistance in his muscles had yet to dissipate.

“Good. Now can you unbutton your shirt by yourself or do you need my help?”

“...I-I-I need your help,” he mindlessly babbles, “P-Please. Please, can you help me?”

You click your tongue at his wanton request, attempting to maintain your composure. It was after the first ‘please’ that you knew you were going to willingly give everything in you to this man right then and there. 

The safeguards? Fuck the safeguards. 

The time for self-preservation was about five or so minutes ago before his knuckles had rapped gently on the heavy wooden door. Without breaking eye contact, you straddle him effortlessly, both knees on either side of his hips. You aren’t certain because all the blood had flooded to your ears and you were unable to hear much over the thumping of your own heartbeat but you swear you hear a quiet ‘oh god’ slip out of him. Your fingers find the buttons on his grey button-down and your wrists noticeably begin to shake as they undo them.

For fuck’s sake.

Up until this point, you had conjured the impression that you were the one in control here and that there was nothing he could say or do otherwise. But now the true vulnerability of the situation had begun to set in. The playing field had been leveled. 

His fingers enrapture yours and he steadies your grasp as you both work to unbutton his shirt. Roman swallows, anxiously. You get more than half of the way there before he gives up and presses his face firmly to yours. 

It’s a declarative kiss. 

It’s long-lasting and when the two of you eventually break it—you know there’s no going back. Those hands of his, wracked with nerves, find their way to your hips. He slowly drags the lacey fabric up so your upper thighs are exposed. Once you can feel the soft flesh of your hips exposed to the cold air, you grab his wrists and he freezes. 

“Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think I remember saying you could do that,”

“I-I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t—I’m sorry,”

“So many apologies, they just keep on coming,”

“I’m…,” he deeply exhales out of his nose. 

“You’re what? Wait, lemme guess,” you goad, “Sorry?”

He bobs his head up and down, face full of embarrassment.

“Hm…think I’m a little sick and tired of those ‘sorrys’, sweetie. You and that mouth of yours. Oh, that fuckin’ mouth of yours. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of headaches it’s caused me in what, the two decades I’ve known you? What are we gonna finally do about that mouth?”

Roman looks up to you, hanging onto your every last word. 

“I-I don’t know, j-just tell me what to do. I can make it up to you, I-I promise,”

You genuinely take a moment to mull it over, though the growing hardness pressing against your most intimate place admittedly was making it hard to think.

“...I think…we need to find another use for that mouth of yours—something to keep it busy, hm? How does that sound, my sweet baby?”

You swear his face goes pale as he assumes you mean your cunt. While the thought had crossed your mind (many, many times in fact), knowing Roman—you know that would be too much. And that you would lose him forever somewhere along the way and you didn’t even want to begin to think about that. 

You tilt your head, staring longingly at that poor little boyish face of his. Your clothed index finger traces its way slowly from the exposed flesh of his tummy, up to his ribs, across his collarbone, along his Adam’s apple, over his bearded chin— finally stopping at his pinkish bottom lip. You pull it down, making him pout for you. 

“Open for me,” you utter softly. 

Roman obeys, his tongue moving upwards in his mouth when he swallows. You continue to tease around his mouth torturously, the lace creating a delicious friction against his beard. The heat of his pants against your lone finger makes you stir inside. 

“Now, close your eyes—mouth still open,”

He noticeably resists before relenting, his eyes flutter closed. You drop one of the spaghetti straps of the slip off of your shoulder, exposing yourself. Your nipple pebbles in the cool air conditioning of the room. You awkwardly lean your torso inwards, inching your breast closer to his mouth. For a brief second, his eyes flick open, taking in the scene. Catching your drift instantly, he swallows as much of the soft flesh as his mouth will allow, moaning into it. The most obscene sucking sounds soon fill the room. Roman whimpers into your skin, letting his head fall limp against your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head. His brown fluff of hair is too tempting for your hands to not tangle themselves in. 

“There, you go…you’re so good. You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Yeah?” you sigh, tilting your head backward.

You swear you can feel your hips gyrating on their own. Roman’s fingers have ensnared themselves onto the flimsy fabric of your slip, gripping it so tight you think it might tear. Not that you’d give a shit if it did. 

“Y’know what I think? I think you act the way you do all the fucking time because you’re just waiting for someone to come and put you in your place, is that right? Yeah? You’re a brat ‘cause you want someone to do this to you? Hm?”

He releases your nipple and an almost pornographic line of spit drools from his mouth. Roman’s lips are plump and rosy, kiss-bruised and swollen. You find out just how warm they’ve become when his wet mouth comes to meet your own in a kiss so messy, you know you’ll touch yourself thinking about it later.

“I-Is this good? A-Am I being a good boy for you?”

“Mm-hm, you’re being a very good boy for me. My good boy. Mommy’s good boy, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes—” he sobs, moving onto your other breast.

His voice is shrill and wrought with desperation. You only ever heard it get this high-pitched when he was making a mocking impression of you or some other woman. And now here he was, making these noises all on his own. The edge of his bottom teeth catches your nipple in just the right away. You squeal, jolting upwards in his lap and laughing at the surprise sensation. He soothes the sensitive skin with the flat of his tongue immediately after. 

“That’s it. There’s my boy, there’s my sweet baby boy,”

All of the sudden, his hands leave your slip and fly to the buckle of his belt. Roman undoes his zipper and shimmies down his slacks enough to pull his dick out. He jerks it quickly with his eyes wound tightly shut in an attempt to get himself completely hard. 

“M-Mommy, c-can I see ‘it’? P-Please, god!” Roman begs out.

Your current position leaves his cock hidden by the hem of your slip. All you can see is the silhouette of his fist in the fabric pumping up and down speedily—relentlessly. He could easily just lift the skirt himself and look at your bare pussy, just as he hungrily wants but he doesn’t. 

He waits. He waits for you to give him permission. 

“See what, sweet boy? Say it, use your words for me. You’re a big boy, you can do it. I know you can,” 

Your hands cup his face and you rest your forehead on his. The skin is taught and slick with sweat. A vein above his brow becomes visible as he strains into his own palm. 

“What do you want, Roman?” you reiterate, trying to regain his attention.

“Fff-fuck! Your p-pussy, I wanna see y-your pussy!”

“All together. Say it all together. Say ‘Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?’” 

“Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?”

His eyes finally open and they aim downwards, expectantly. 

“Is that all you want, pretty boy?”

“N-N-yes!”

“Is that all you want?”

“No! No, I wanna cum, I-I wanna f-f-finish! W-Wanna finish on it,” he whines.

“All together, baby…”

“Mommy, can I please finish on your pretty pussy?! Please!”

It’s on the last syllable of his sentence that he erupts. Only as he’s cumming is he able to look at your cunt. You swiftly move the fabric up and his load catches the edge of it, the rest of it coating your exposed pussy. Roman falls backwards limp onto the pillow and you roll off of him and the bed and onto your jelly-like legs. The two of you don’t look at each other, occupying opposite sides of the room while you make yourselves decent. You shed your stained garment, using it to wipe your cunt clean. You fling it onto the hotel carpet and don’t think twice about it. 

“Mind if I…borrow that…for a bit?” a weak voice croaks from across the suite. 

You turn your head and smirk, still topless.

“All yours.”

Briefly, you catch a glimpse of Roman from behind, buttoning up his shirt. You pull up your dress, sweatier than before when you had taken it off. You expected there to be a palpable shift between the two of you, had everything gone according to plan. You figured the next RECNY ball that was just around the corner might be a bit awkward but it was nothing a few sarcastic quips and some alcohol couldn’t fix.

“My guy’s still waiting out front, so that’s my not-so-stealthy getaway. I can have Crispin pull around in twenty if I guess, I dunno, you wanted to shower the stank off of y…”

Roman’s words trail off as he becomes caught up in the sight of you; your cocktail dress zipped up halfway, your hair in an even messier updo than before, one heel on with the other remaining to be seen. It left him dumbfounded, feeling impulsive, like he could leave everything behind then and there and things might turn out alright. 

“Um…d’you maybe wanna just come with me…I dunno. Back at my place, I mean. And don’t make it into…it’s not a thing. Th-This is not a thing. But, yeah, we could order in whatever you, you could stay over, I-I got spare rooms–”

“Roman—”

“—it-its not like a big deal or anything, y’know? This isn’t, this wasn’t ‘a thing’. Fuckin’ labels and everything, I m—”

“Roman! That all sounds fine; I just would like to exit one of the nicest hotels in the damn city not looking like a two-bit whore, yeah? Come and zip me up,”

“I mean, if you ask me—I think it’s a rather fitting look,” he says, echoing your previous words.

“ROMAN!” 

“Alright, fuck, fine!”

End.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 06

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

Prisons are noisy.

I went through the security check and was ready for the visit, waiting in a room with several tables where emotional family members awaited their loved ones who could walk through that door at any moment. The minutes on the clock with hands, hanging on the wall in front of me, moved with hypnotizing slowness.

Tick. Tock.

It didn’t take long for her to come, hands restrained by handcuffs and wearing an orange jumpsuit. Not very different from her daughter in physical appearance, even though the daughter was much prettier. I saw her neck stretch as she searched the room for someone she knew, and when she spotted me sitting there waving with a small smile, her posture stiffened.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Crystal barked, sitting in a chair across from me. Without any manners, she didn’t even say good morning.

"I found this in a pile of mail and saw you needed a visit." I signaled with the paper between my fingers. Opportunities rarely landed so easily in my lap, but this one was worth thanking the gods for.

"But it wasn’t your visit I asked for! Where is my daughter?"

"Was there a problem with your watch? You’re nine years late to ask if she’s found a place to live!"

"That’s none of your business!"

"Everything concerning her is my business. Don’t be ridiculous!" I said, loosening my tone slightly.

Crystal looked around uneasily. Her nails were dirty with soil, and she looked sweaty—I guessed it was from the prison’s activities. Clearly, the days here weren’t treating her well, judging by her expression and the size of her dark circles.

"How did you end up here?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "No… wait! Let me guess! This is definitely your idiot boyfriend's fault, isn't it?

"I need to talk to my daughter," she completely ignored my sarcasm and dragged the chair closer to the table.

"Don’t tell me you’re hoping for her help to get out of here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Her silence made it inevitable for me to burst into laughter, shaking my head slowly. Leaning forward, I rested on my elbows on the table to speak as quietly as possible.

"You know when I’ll let you get near her again?" I whispered into her wide eyes. "Do you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do? You realized you’re alone, and she might be your only source of money and a ticket out of here. Only for you to then go after that man and keep ranting about her on social media like a lunatic, giving even more material for the people who hate her to make her life a hell!"

It was impossible not to notice the sudden change in her expression. With me, she could show her true face without hesitation. Playing the victim wouldn’t work.

"And what makes you think you have the right to come here and tell me what to do?" she questioned, lifting her chin as if she were in a position to challenge me. "I don’t think we’re that different when you took advantage of my daughter’s open door to keep destroying the little she had left!"

"EVERYTHING THAT FUCKED HER HEAD UP UNTIL NOW IS YOUR FAULT!" I spat, pointing a finger at her. From the corner of my eye, I saw the guard adjust his position as the conversation escalated. "No matter what I did to fix it, you always seemed to be there like a damn shadow to remind her where she came from!"

"I’m sorry if you wasted nine years of your life, boy."

Suddenly, that sentence felt like a shock through a high-voltage wire, and I stood frozen, staring at the apathetic face of the woman in front of me. I couldn’t say for sure if I had wasted nine years of my life while we were together, when I knew nothing but her. No other feelings, no other touch—nothing that didn’t come from her. All because I refused to live something different, something that didn’t include her, even if it meant facing hell every day.

I blinked a few times and clenched my fists before my thoughts could drag me into a place I couldn’t return from now.

"If it’s up to me, you’ll rot in this place, and I’ll do everything to keep her further away from any news about you."

Crystal swallowed hard, her fingers fidgeting nervously, tensing as my presence loomed over her. I leaned down to leave one last message in her ear.

"And I’m sure you’re still in touch with that boyfriend of yours. Don’t forget to tell him he can’t keep running from me forever," I whispered with satisfaction, hiding a little laugh.

Slowly, I straightened up and looked down at her one last time, seeing her as still as a statue, staring blankly at the table. I stepped back gradually and walked toward the exit, dreaming of the moment I’d finally rid myself of that place with its strange smell.

When I arrived at the studio, the band was in their respective spots, rehearsing on their own. Everyone was laughing at something that quickly lost its charm the moment I crossed the door, as if a dark cloud had invaded their colorful world.

Chewing my gum with more intensity, I hardened my expression as soon as I saw Landon sitting on one of the stools, like an audience interacting with the performance on the small stage in the center of the room.

I didn’t miss for a second that his eyes—and his stupid, unfunny jokes—were directed at one single person, who seemed to find joy in even the wind brushing through her hair. I shot him a brief glare that could have pierced his body while the energy drink can in my palm seemed to disappear under my grip. We worked at the same record label. He was the owner's son and the vocalist of some irrelevant band. Naturally, we didn’t get along.

“You’re late, Noah!” The lone feminine voice broke our eye contact, and I turned to join the others. I didn’t bother looking at her directly, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched her adjusting her guitar while he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

More precisely, off her long, tattooed legs, exposed by a short plaid skirt.

“I’ve got a watch,” I replied.

An awful silence filled the room in seconds, and Folio broke it with a casual drumbeat, a habit whenever we traded jabs.

“And you, Landon?” I asked while checking the microphone setup. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I remember booking this space just for my band today.”

“No one complained about me being here before. We’re just hanging out, chatting, man. Don’t tell me you’re gonna cry about it,” he said, smirking. “Ruffilo was giving me a few tips.”

It felt like my face had been plunged into a tub of lava, the heat rising so fiercely in my cheeks. If the mic stand could talk, it would probably beg me to stop gripping it so tightly.

“I don’t see any problem with Landon watching the rehearsal.” Strangely, she seemed overly agreeable today, her sultry tone almost convincing if I weren’t paying attention. Actually, I knew perfectly well why she was acting so liberally—she was high.

“But I do,” I snapped without taking my eyes off him, still lounging in his seat like he owned the place. “We already have enough issues with band members getting distracted, and the last thing I need is a pest hanging around!”

“Buzzkill.”

I caught a whispered insult from afar, followed by their shared laughter, which only fueled my rage.

Jolly and I exchanged glances, and I was sure he was thinking exactly the same thing I was.

“I won’t ask you to leave again!” If my eyes had the power to kill, his body would have been shattered to pieces by now.

“Okay, okay! See you later...” He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging in mock surrender. “Oh, Noah, almost forgot—I’m hosting a little party at my place, just something casual with friends. It’d be cool if you came with the rest of the band.”

And who said we were friends?

“See you there!” Folio shouted from the back of the room.

Landon nodded, and just before leaving, I noticed him brush his hand against hers in a slow enough motion for her to take whatever he handed her and tuck it into her pocket. I took a deep breath as the door shut, leaning my head against the microphone stand with my eyes closed while my bandmates silently gestured to one another to start playing.

“It’s too late…” she began, testing the microphone.

“Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, throwing her hands up.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“Okay, okay!” Jolly intervened. “It’s fine; we’ll start over.”

The intro of Take Me First started again, and I saw her clear her throat, straightening her posture as she inhaled through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. Even after all these years, she still warmed up incorrectly, yet her voice seemed to defy every logical explanation, getting better every time despite her doing everything wrong.

Every time she opened her mouth and delivered a line, my mind entered some hypnotic state. My body didn’t care about the destination, as long as she was guiding the journey with her characteristic husky, dramatic tone.

“It’s too late…”

“Stop!” I ordered. “Start again.”

“It’s too late…”

“Stop!” I repeated. “You’re still coming in at the wrong time!”

Her lips trembled as she huffed in frustration, and without saying a word, she excused herself, marching across the room to lock herself in the bathroom.

“Have you lost it? She’s coming in at the right time, according to the new intro!” Jolly snapped, impatient. “If you’re going to nitpick, at least point out real mistakes!”

“Jolly’s right, man. Chugging all that energy drink is probably messing with your chakras!” Folio teased, punctuating his words with a playful cymbal crash.

“Folio, where did you even get the idea that energy drinks can do that?” Ruffilo asked, spinning his neck around with a puzzled expression.

“Let’s continue the rehearsal,” I said over my shoulder, watching them exchange glances.

“But she hasn’t come back yet…”

“If it mattered to her, she’d be here. Let’s go!”

Without questioning, they returned to their positions, and the intro started again. I cracked my neck from side to side before leaning into the microphone. During the opening bars, I closed my eyes, trying my hardest to pretend she was in some parallel space where her shadow couldn’t reach me.

But all it took was opening my eyes to collide with reality.

The bathroom door was still shut.

After practice, everyone grabbed their things and left for their destinations.

I have to admit, I felt betrayed, but screw it.

Lying on the couch in the living room, nothing seemed to hold my attention. I couldn’t watch a movie, couldn’t read, or even jot something down in a notebook because even the sound of the pencil scratching the paper annoyed me. I picked up the guitar and placed it on my thigh, hoping silence might serve as inspiration, and on the first chord, my luck had the string snap.

“Shit.”

I sighed, bored, banging my head against the back of the couch. On the floor, there was a pile of crumpled-up balls of paper from all my failed attempts at composing something. My mind was emptier than my stomach.

“I hope your little party is awful, sweetheart,” I murmured sarcastically to myself. Maybe talking to myself was the last stage before fully surrendering to madness.

The light of headlights in the garage caught my attention through the window. Judging by the incessant chatter, it was the guys—they were laughing and coming inside with parallel conversations and an armful of grocery bags. When I came face-to-face with them, I did a mental roll call, frowning when I noticed someone was missing.

“Huh,” I hesitated, crossing my arms and leaning against the couch. “Weren’t you all at the same party?”

“No, we changed our minds and went to the supermarket,” Ruffilo shrugged, lifting the bags. Suddenly, all the smiles disappeared. “She’s not here?”

My feet went numb, and for a moment, I thought I was floating, the ground vanishing beneath them. What pounded in my chest could easily be mistaken for the echo of a drum, grating against my ears. I didn’t fully understand why, but there was an unsettling itch beneath my skin that spread throughout my body, like a thousand needles piercing all at once.

“Shit.”

“Noah, where are you going?” one of them shouted, but I was already out the door and in the car, turning the ignition with the same speed I left the garage.

I was definitely speeding, but my vision felt too blurred on the city’s narrow streets as I swerved past car after car. The tightness in my chest gripped me diagonally, and I used my finger to loosen the collar of my shirt, trying my best to breathe in slowly and stay focused on the road.

Every time I heard a horn, it had the power to jolt me back to reality, preventing my car from crashing into another on the shoulder. The closer I got to the address, the more my agony escalated, and the harder it became to fight against the paralysis threatening my body.

I parked in the first available spot I found. Cars were haphazardly positioned with no room to maneuver, so I had to vault over a few hoods to get through. Loud music and a dense crowd amidst smoke—the party at Landon’s was so packed and noisy it was impossible to hear my own thoughts. Dodging a few girls drinking and bumping into a guy, I ended up with an entire drink spilled over my hoodie.

He was ready to curse me out but paused when he looked up and smiled.

“Noah? Noah Sebastian?” he squinted, double-checking what he was seeing. “Hey man, would you mind taking a picture with me? My sister loves—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish, turning my back on him, breathless, my heart hammering at a wild rhythm. It felt like I was getting closer.

Instinctively, I decided to head upstairs. On my way, I ran into Landon. He was stumbling over his own feet, wearing star-shaped glasses, nearly collapsing onto me. Luckily, I pushed him off just in time, throwing a punch that sent him sprawling onto the floor, creating a circle in the crowd.

Shaking my fist in the air and ignoring the murmurs, I took the stairs two steps at a time. As I reached the hallway, my insides twisted in dread over what I might find. Kicking open the first door, I found a couple—clean. The second door revealed some people passed out. The third was empty, aside from the mess.

That left me with only one option.

At the end of the hall, there was only one white door, which I assumed was a bathroom. I forced the golden doorknob and found it locked. Panic flared through my body. I slammed my shoulder against the wood, breaking through on the second try.

The music became just a distant echo.

And my heart was on the verge of stopping.

It was impossible not to collapse onto the wet floor beside her as soon as I saw her pale, unconscious body with liquid trickling from her lips. Despite my panic and groans of anguish, I forced myself to check her pulse. I abandoned every rule about not touching her again, cradling her in my arms and thrusting my fingers into her mouth to reach her throat. But there was nothing to pull out, and even if there had been, she was too limp to expel it.

“No. No. No. No,” I repeated in desperation, holding my phone to my ear while dialing emergency services. “Stay with me. Keep breathing. Please. Please. Please!”

I had no idea if I was doing the right things, but I was alone and couldn’t think of anything else besides needing her to come back. Her face was so sunken I could see the blue veins stark against her skin. Her well-shaped lips were dry and cracked, contradicting the increasingly shallow breaths escaping her nose.

“Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Keep breathing,” I kept repeating, pressing my lips to her forehead, feeling something wet and salty transfer between us as the hold music played in my ear. “Please, my little storm.”

The music outside drowned out my cries of pain—not physical, though. My body felt numb, like enduring a long episode of cramps. All the pain was internal, dissolving as I watched her grow colder in my arms.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @anarchydomainglory ; @iluvmewwwww75

[faghubby]

Sorry, I will be a good boi

"Paul, you ruined my skirt!" Lisa yelled as she walked in my room.

"What? All I did was wash it for you" I shot back annoyed she was angry.

"That's it I am so fucking done with you" she swore. I realized I had fucked up. I couldn't let her break up with me. Not only did I love her she paid for everything. I was trying to get my business off the ground for the past 6 months. But I had not made a dime.

"Lisa wait, baby I am sorry. I fucked up" I said pulling her into my arms.

"You always fuck up. Never learn" she shot back pushing me away.

"I know my mom always said the same thing" I told her.

"Yeah, how did she get you to learn?" She asked.

"A big belt" I laughed. Lisa's eyes widened. She grabbed my waist and took off my belt.

"Drop your pants" she told me.

"Babe, I was joking" I laughed.

"I'm not, drop them or get your shit and get out" she yelled. She was serious. I had no place to go. I hesitated but she was impatient. I dropped my pants and boxers. Lisa pushed me over the bed. Without warning the first blow struck my ass. I jumped up.

"I swear to god, if you don't stick your ass back in the air I am going to cut your balls off" Lisa said. I bent back over she let 15 lashes sting across my ass.

"Holy shit that was so hot" Lisa moaned as she quickly stripped and laid on the bed. She pulled my head between her thighs. I licked and sucked her pussy. I had never witnessed her so wet. She moaned and rocked as I made her cum. I quickly mounted her and fucked her as well.

My ass still burning. Lisa now in a much better mood. Saw my ass and felt bad. She grabbed some salve as she applied it her finger slid across my asshole. I moaned. I had not meant to bit I did. Lisa had noticed right away and was soon rubbing her finger against my asshole. I was rock hard again.

"I think you like when I take charge" Lisa teased. She stopped and let me get dressed. But teased me about it for a few days.

"How's your butt?" Lisa asked one morning rubbing me from behind.

"Better" I replied trying not to burn her eggs.

"You seemed to remember things better the last few days" she commented. "Prehaps I need to take a firm hand with you from now on" with that she handed me a list of chores to do today.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Well since I make the money around here I think it's time you started doing your share around here" Lisa told me kissed me goodbye and was off to work. I was a bit annoyed that she expected me to do all this today. I blew it off and spent the morning playing video games. I did do some of the list in the afternoon. Got about half of it done.

When Lisa came home she didn't say a word. She walked up all lovey like and removed my belt. When she yanked my pants and underwear down I knew what she was up to.

"Lisa wait" I pleaded as she bent me over the counter. The first blow again shocked me but I stayed in place as another 19 rained down. Jumped on the counter and had me orally please her again.

"You are going to learn your place" she told me. She didn't let me fuck her. Instead she grabbed the salve and applied it to my ass. This time her finger probed my ass. She fingered me as I tried not to moan.

I got another list the next morning from a less loving wife. I didn't complain instead worked hard to make sure to complete it. Taking great care in how it was done as well.

"You did well" Lisa praised me. She gave me list every morning. Some simple errands, some cleaning, and some where as simple as writing a thank letter to someone. But she rebuffed any move I made toward sex. Buy the end of the week I was pretty horny and found myself checking out porn on my phone. It started as simple hot woman bit found myself searching for dominant woman. And masterbated to a nakedman being spanked by a woman in a business suit.

Lisa took the lead that night. She hardly ever initiated sex. But she not only initiated but insisted on being on top. She gave me instructions on what to do. Making me focus on her pleasure. This excited me more then I would like to admit.

"That was very nice" Lisa told me as she spooned me after. Her hand slid down my back and she rubbed my asshole.

"Would you like to try some anal play sometime? I read some guys really love it" Lisa whispered in my ear.

"No, I am not" I started to get angry but stopped as she pushed her finger into my ass.

"Shh, be a good boy. And be honest" Lisa corrected me.

"I don't know" I wimpered "it feels good but I not" I continued

"It's okay just to enjoy yourself" Lisa worked in a second finger. I lifted my ass giving her better access.

"From now on you are going to except my rule around here" Lisa told me. She continued for a few minutes then stopped. And we cuddled till we fell asleep.

I woke late Lisa already up. I found her in the kitchen making breakfast. As we sat down to eat. Lisa took my hand.

"I want you to understand. You need this" Lisa said softly

"You don't mean another spanking" I said wide eyed.

"No baby, I was doing some research and think you need a firm hand. Have you ever heard of a Female Led Marriage?" I just shook my head.

"It basically means I am in charge, of everything. You will do as you are told" she explained. "And if you don't there will be punishments. But also rewards for behavior, I will establish a list of rules you are to follow" she continued. "Now honey there is no saying no to this. I believe it is our only way forward, so you agree or move out" I nodded.

"Good now go do the dishes" she shooed me away. Lisa sent me a list of rules and explanations. I sat down and read them carefully.

I was now in charge of all domestic duties. From grocery shopping to scubbing floors.

All plans, commitments and or vacations where solely up to Lisa to approve

I was to wear only things Lisa approved. This included grooming, hair style. And what after shave I could use.

I was not to disagree with her in public ever. And in private although I could calmly express my opinion she would decide if it had any merit.

I was to give back rubs, foot rubs, even manicures if Lisa so wished.

I would take a cooking course because I would now be making all meals.

And sex. I was not to innate sex, ask for sex, or expect any sexual satisfaction. Porn was also now banned. This included pictures of scantily clothed woman. I was not to masterbate without permission

She laid out rewards, such as taking me out, buying me something nice.

Punishments could be spankings, timeouts

I asked questions but Lisa told me it was non negotiatqble. I agreed

Lisa stripped me naked and bent me over the kitchen counter where she used a wooden spoon to spank me 25 times. As a way of my agreeing to the new marriage. Lisa was patient at first correcting things I did not to her standards. She picked out my clothes everyday. No more sweats and sloppy tees. I was clean shaven everyday as well. The rule I broke was no masterbation. When Lisa came home that night she was mad. She had set up cameras in every room I had not known about.

"Don't even say a word" Lisa said as she walked in the house. "Naked now" she ordered.

"Think I don't know when you play with yourself" she scolded. She grabbed the belt and had me count as 25 smacks ran across my ass. As held me after she had grabbed the salve. But her fingers instantly went into my hole.

"You love when I play with you like this" Lisa smiled. I just nodded. As she figer fucked me. I was stunned when my dick started to leak oozing onto her slacks. She didn't stop until I stopped oozing. She then took a wet wipe and cleaned me. Before she fiddled with something then I heard a click. I looked down to see my penis in a cage.

"That way you won't play with my penis anymore" she told me. Over dinner I remained naked. As she asked about how it felt when she milked me. I had never heard the term and did my best to explain it. I got under the table and licked her an orgasm as she had dessert.

After that Lisa got very strick. She wanted my body free of hair other then the top of my head. She started calling me her little sissy boi. She bought a toy to use on my ass instead of her fingers. And another I could use on her. Since mine was locked up.

About two weeks of being locked I got frustrated and raised my voice. I got to wear a butt plug all night and a ball gag to make sure I remained quiet. I didn't even know she had these things. I also found myself bound naked to the bed as a time out when she went out with her friend for the evening. The more she pushed the more submissive I became. I found it all so exciting.

One evening she came home late , smelled of booze. She lifted her dress and wore no panties. She pulled my head to her sex. I sensed it was different right away.

"Do it! Suck his cum out of me" Lisa demanded. Pushing my face against her. She rubbed herself all over my face. Before she headed to the bathroom to be sick. I cleaned her up and put her to bed.

In the morning I went to check back to check on her.

"You are a cuckold now" she told me. I knew the term and lowered my head I wanted to cry. She motioned me to join her in bed.

"Shh, baby I am never going to unlock you. You love it too much when I milk you" she told me her hand patting my ass.

"Get naked" she said suddenly. I got up and did as she asked.

"What if I told you to put on a pair of my panties?" She asked. I looked down at the floor.

"Pick out a pair" Lisa said plainly. I went to her drawer. Not her everyday panty drawer. For some reason I went to wear she kept her sexy lingerie. I picked up a black lace pair of panties. Lisa smiled.

"Put them on"

I did as told she had me join her in bed again as she shopped online for panties in my size. She also bought a few other items such as a strapon. But mostly panties. Lisa saw her lover again that night. This time when she came home I was still in her panties and nothing else as I licked and slurped her cum filled pussy.

At the six month anniversary of our new FLM she bought me an engagement ring and had me get a tattoo on my ass that said property of Lisa in sparkling purple. I got her a smaller cage to lock me in. She says maybe at the one year she will unlock me. I actually don't care anymore. Most of our friends know I am locked and wear panties. Family just think I am whipped and have no backbone.

Lisa never introduces me to her lovers. But sometimes gives me details as I lick thier cum out of her.

[rafyki]

Episode 11 really showed Jack's growth

Okay, I know what you're gonna say: "but he lashed out at Joke! He threw him away again! He got so angry!". And like- yes he lashed out, yes he didn't stop to think, yes he got extremely angry. But that literally happened in the first ten minutes of the episode, alright? There's more than a hour after that, so please let's focus on everything else that happened too, and the fact that Jack acting like that literally only lasts for a short while (as I already said, everything happens extremely fast in this episode, if you really think about it he only stays made for less than a day, which is a perfectly valid period of time to need to sort through complicated feelings - hell, it's an incredibly short time, Jack got over himself extremely quickly).

Anyway, lemme go in order, because I'm not just talking about his relationship with Joke here, but about everything else too.

There are two main things about Jack's character arc (well, more than two, but I wanna focus on these ones now): first, his tendency to hold grudges and be hard on forgiveness and, second, the fact that he never stands up to power and powerful people in an active way (I'll explain better what I mean later).

As for the first, I made a whole other post about it, so I'm not gonna repeat everything again, but let's see how in this episode he got to the end of his growth in this aspect.

He's extremely mad at the start of the episode (rightfully so), so much that he goes on a rampage (we love to see it, tbh), even though he should know that it wouldn't end well.

When he wakes up, he's still mad - of course he is, he didn't have time to think and process everything yet, given that he was beaten unconscious until now. He gets mad at Grandma when she mentions Joke, and then he lashes out at Save and Hope. It's understandable.

But then? Then it only takes Hope saying this for him to calm down and put things into perspective

I think it's important to point out that here it's only been maybe a few hours since the hospital scene. And here, Jack finally has time to think.

This it when he finally stops and thinks and realizes that he was wrong, that he didn't have any right to be mad at Save or Hope (or, well, he does, but how should also be able to understand their positions, because he's been there too), because they're all in the same situation in the end; and he realizes that Joke only did what he did for him. This is the moment when he finally has time to think and realize he was wrong (both about Save and about Joke), realize that he doesn't want to lose Joke, that he misses him.

Let's not forget that the start of Jack's character growth was to learn to forgive. And here, he shows that he's finally able to do this.

He works together with Save and Hope, he trusts them. Why didn't he call Joke to join them then? Well, I think he probably wanted things to calm down first so that after that he would have the time to actually talk to Joke. He didn't have the time to do that in the end, and that's the tragic thing.

But we know that's what he planned to do, because that's exaclty what he says.

Anyway, let's move on or this will become way too long lmao

It's not only in terms of learning to forgive that Jack grew. It's also in the way he finally decides to actively act to oppose Boss.

I mean, Jack was caught in Boss' web of power since he was young, and he's had to deal with the fact that he couldn't escape it, couldn't defeat it, for years. And so, he always submitted to Boss, in a way.

Yes, when he was a debt collector he went against him, in secret (and sacrificing himself and his own money), until Boss found out and Jack had to bow his head againt before him. When Gradma was in the hospital, he let himself in Boss' grasp again and even when Joke and Grandma slapped some sense into him his way to oppose Boss was to simply tell him he didn't want to marry Rose anymore, but was still willing to work for him; now, we know that that only worked because Joke had stolen the ring. What would have happened if Joke hadn't done that? Boss would have refused, of course, and Jack would have had bowed his head again.

Until now, Jack's actions were often passive, a result of him having no choice. Even when he played the ladder game against Lompran, that wasn't a real choice.

Not now, though. In this episode, Jack finally realizes that he can't keep doing it, that he needs to fight back for real. And this is the first time that Jack realizes that he can't always do the morally correct thing if he wants to defeat people like Boss.

Jack has always had really solid morals, and he's always lived by the fact that he needs to be better - better than the corrupted people in power who use them and look down on them. And that means he can't accept theft as a valid way to fix things, even if it would be justifiable and it would make things easier. But he can't do that, because that would mean that he's just as bad as them. Poor people are always expected to do the right thing.

Until now. Because now Jack has finally realized that he can't play it fair against people like them, he understood how that world works, and he realized that he needs to play following their game's rules.

He's learned the power game's rules and he's ready to play.

And that's what he does. He's able to take advantage of Lompran's greed and use it for his own ends, and he's not afraid of risking his own or Save's life - because he knows at this point that they can't play it safe anymore.

He played the game but he also kept his morals, because he still didn't do it for himself; he played their game but he's still better than them

Jack has mostly been a passive force until now, but in this episode he's finally the active force - he's the one with the plan, the one who takes the lead. (Joke, on the other had, has always been the active force of the show, and in this episode he's the passive one, but I'll make another post about this another day)

And I think this will be obvious in next episode too, when he'll (finally!) get a gun and do everything that's needed to save Joke and everyone else from Boss.

And he finally understood that the world isn't black and white and that sometime you need to do something "bad" to fight back, both for youself and for others. And that that doesn't mean you're a bad person.

[cakepoppresent]

Trust Me Okay?

Whew, whoever told Chantel Williams about Andre really blew up his life before he was ready. Hopefully, it doesn't ruin anything...hopefully

Transcript under the cut~

Sebastian: Can you please please PLEASE make chicken alfredo pasta tonight? I’m really really REALLY craving it

Andre: No.

Sebastian: Why!?!

Andre: You can make that yourself.

Sebastian: Okay, fine. I can’t make steaks can you make that then? With mashed potatoes and veggies on the side

Andre: You’re always so demanding. I cook at work then I gotta come home and cook for you too?

Sebastian: PLEASE!!! We have the weekend off and when I do cook it never taste the same!

Andre: Being your roommate is tedious

Sebastian: I’m taking that as a yes! Let’s go to the farmers market!

Andre: *tsk* You’re exhausting

Sebastian: Stop acting like you don’t enjoy my energy! If it weren’t for me you’d be cooped up inside all day!

Andre: Yea, yea, yea whatever you say

Sebastian: Oh! We should also stop by the flea market and see if anything cool is there

Andre: *deep negro sigh* Alright.

*Paparazzi's Comments Start*

ANDRE! ANDRE!

ANDRE! ANDRE!

WHAT ABOUT YOUR YOUNGER SIBLINGS

WHY WERE YOU DISOWNED?

DOES YOUR FATHER DO WHERE YOU LIVE

ARE YOU NO LONGER GOING TO RUN THE VILLAREAL EMPIRE?!?

*Paparazzi's Comments End*

Andre: No Comment!

Sebastian: Andre whats going on? What are they talking about?!?

Andre: Bash let's go back home

Sebastian: Im scared Andre...how did they know my name?! How do they know you?!

Andre: Lets go upstairs first. We’ll talk about it later

Sebastian: But...

Andre: Lets go!

Sebastian: Andre please tell me what's going on! Why the hell are there paparazzi outside our building? How do they even know my name?! Where we live! and what the fuck is a Villereal ?!

Andre: Its complicated Bash but I need you to calm down.

Sebastian: How can you say that!? This is terrifying! I'm scared!

Sebastian: I’m ju-

Andre: Sebastian. I need you to calm down and listen to me.

Andre: I told you its going to be okay. Get changed and we’ll talk

Sebastian: Okay...

Andre: You trust me?

Sebastian: Of course.

Andre: I won’t do anything to harm you. Just get changed and we’ll talk. Okay?

Sebastian: Okay.

Sebastian: “Villarreal”...that’s a really wealthy family back in Windenburg right?

Andre: How are you feeling now...

Andre: Yes...

Sebastian: They own almost all the major real estate in Windenburg...google said that they come from old money...

Andre: Not that old... but yea...

Sebastian: Jesus.

Andre: Bash listen I didn’t mean to lie. I swear, It’s complicated but my father isn’t the greatest person and I had siblings to protect...I just...Its complicated

Sebastian: We’ve been roommates for so long...You’ve been lying for so long...You...You...

Sebastian: That doesn’t tell me anything or explain why you lied to me for so long...

Sebastian: If the paparazzi didn’t show up at our door would you have even told me? Would I have come home one day to find all your stuff gone?

Andre: That would never happen Bash. I always planned on telling you...just after I sorted everything out

Sebastian: I don’t even know what to say...my mind is going crazy. People know where I live, my name, and what I look like! They’re calling me all sorts of things online...how can I even go to work like this?

Andre: I will handle it. Stay off the internet for now but believe me when I say it will be dealt with

Sebastian: Im scared Andre...this is scary for me

Andre: I know and I'm sorry.

Andre: It's going to be okay. Just trust me.

Sebastian:...Okay

[notmorbid]

any other family.

dialogue prompts from any other family by eleanor brown.

who gets to say what it means to be a family?

all perfect moments are comprised of small details, are they not?

there just never seems to be enough time.

i am generally filled with rage, these days.

you can't bullshit a bullshitter.

you're always saying how tired you are. let someone help.

it will all work out. it has to.

it is all so complicated, and it was supposed to be so simple.

don't make me do this again.

why didn't you tell me how bad it was?

i've tried to talk to you dozens of times.

i have never felt so far away from you.

people say we're strange. maybe we are.

i don't understand why you're being so stubborn.

when the universe offers you a gift, you say yes.

i am not yours to rescue.

your hearing is highly selective.

do all parents feel like this?

abrupt change is not helpful for anyone.

this is turning out to be the least relaxing vacation in the history of ever.

i must not have prayed hard enough.

you're a terrible example, but most only children turn out okay.

family and money don't mix.

you can't rescue everyone, okay?

i'll figure it out. i always do.

when you say goodbye to something, you also get to say hello to everything that'll take its place.

you've survived 100% of the changes in your life thus far. odds are, you'll survive whatever comes next.

tonight. not 'later'. tonight.

you need to let ___ go.

what the hell is wrong with me? besides everything?

knowing and feeling are two different things.

the only thing we can do is hold hands and walk into the future together. with hope.

you're the only one i can count on to tell me the truth.

everything you do seems easy.

is this what we've been reduced to?

i have a good feeling about this.

everyone needs something to take care of.

why don't you ever stand up to ____?

one of the most amazing things about being a parent is rediscovering things you forgot were amazing.

we are a family now, whether we like it or not.

isn't it nice having someone to share the load, every once in a while?

you should take up drinking. it has all sorts of side benefits.

i told you [name] was a bitch.

i felt better when we weren't talking about it.

when i am ready for help, i will ask for help.

i am a gordian knot of emotions, and i cannot bear to cut through it.

what are we but the sum of our experiences?

what's the use of living if we can't apply our pasts to our presents?

you always seem so calm and confident.

we're still going to be a family, though, right?

if only parenthood came with scheduled alerts on coming changes and crises.

i didn't have to be your mother, i get to be your mother.

you are smart and silly and amazing and curious, and i love you very, very much.

i would have said yes to anything, to make the pain end.

i'm sad. it sucks. what else is there to say?

i can't imagine going through that alone.

you must be so strong.

i just want to burn it all down.

a relationship is a series of promises.

i am not above bribery.

it's not a family vacation without a few trips to the emergency room.

it's intimidating to be around you.

you probably came out of the womb punching.

it doesn't do us any good to be comparing, does it? we aren't the same people.

i've never been good at crying.

it's amazing how you can be right next to someone and have no idea what they're thinking.

you don't have to do this alone. you don't have to pretend to be okay when you're not.

you have to talk to someone. it's too much to carry if you don't.

i don't need reminders. i think about it every day.

i said ____ could spend the night, not move in.

your eyes are like cartoon saucers.

i'm sorry i didn't realize how unhappy you were.

[all-pacas]

a list of all the times foreman and chase actively shaded one another in s1-3, because i think it's very funny,

histories:

PATIENT: [Foreman] doesn't like me. I can tell. CHASE: That's okay. He doesn't like me, either.

sports medicine:

CHASE: House says you were lying. I believe him. FOREMAN: …What’s that? You got a little wet smudge at the end of your nose!

control:

CAMERON [to Chase]: He’s not gonna fire you. FOREMAN: I’d fire you. Bye bye. CHASE: If I screw up, the patient dies… I’ll never get another job. FOREMAN: So go stick your head between your legs and lick your wounds in Gstaad.

mob rules:

CAMERON: Chase has a big mouth. FOREMAN: Yeah. He's probably the one who ratted to Vogler. [of note: Chase did obviously rat to Vogler, but Cameron spends these same episodes defending him and sure he isn't the rat; Foreman immediately jumps to "fire Chase"]

heavy:

PATIENT: I’m thirsty. CAMERON: Just a little bit longer [with this procedure], and you’ll be done. FOREMAN: Like Dr. Chase.

[later, House asks who Foreman would fire:]

FOREMAN: Chase. HOUSE: What — because he screwed up an angio a month ago? FOREMAN: Anyone can make a mistake. HOUSE: Right, it’s the money. You resent it, but you’re going to tell me he doesn’t need the job. FOREMAN: He doesn’t appreciate the job. HOUSE: He was ready to go three rounds with Cameron for it. FOREMAN: He wants the job. He just doesn’t appreciate it. There’s nothing wrong with just wanting to hang out, but this is not the place to do it.

babies and bathwater:

FOREMAN: [under his breath] Here, pussy, pussy, pussy. CHASE: I didn’t do anything. FOREMAN: Exactly my point. CHASE: You wanted me to yell at him? What the hell would that have achieved? What, is he going to jump into his time machine and fix everything? FOREMAN: When a dog dumps on the floor, do you pat its head and call it a genius? No, you smack it in the nose with a newspaper! CHASE: Dogs can learn things, House can’t. FOREMAN: Coward. CHASE: Child.

acceptance:

FOREMAN: If someone asks you to describe me to them, what’s the first thing you’d tell them? CHASE: Insecure.

tb or not tb:

CAMERON: I wrote your people a check last month. PATIENT: Oh, well… write us another one. FOREMAN: Talk to Chase, he’s rich. CHASE: My dad, not me. [i think offering chase's money to a stranger counts as shade]

the mistake:

STACY: Why did Chase screw up? FOREMAN: Because he doesn't give a crap about patients. STACY: He always gets positive patient reviews. FOREMAN: Yeah. He smiles all 84 of his teeth, tells them his tonsil story. STACY: It's a nice story. FOREMAN: He still has his tonsils! As soon as he's out of the room, which is as soon as he can be out of the room, he starts in on the trash talk. Thinks not giving a crap makes him like House. Like it’s something to aspire to. Am I going to have to testify? STACY: I… won't be encouraging them to call you.

failure to communicate:

CHASE: Even if he fell, drug use is far more likely. I’m ordering a tox screen. FOREMAN: Chase, we're not done with the differential. CHASE: You're not my boss. FOREMAN: I'm House's boss, House is your boss. The math is pretty simple. CHASE: Are you signing my paychecks? Are you hiring or firing? FOREMAN: This is not about that. CHASE: The only thing you've been asked to do is supervise House in case he does something insane.

distractions:

FOREMAN: Plug it in. CHASE: You plug it in. FOREMAN: Fine, give me the cord. [under his breath:] Wuss.

who's your daddy?

[during a procedure] HOUSE: Chase, high right atrium, please. CHASE: Her heart’s fragile after that last attack. The chances of tachycardia – HOUSE: You have my permission to blame Foreman at any negligence trial. [chase does as he's told]

cane and able:

CHASE: How could I screw up a simple bleeding time test? FOREMAN: Maybe you were abducted; lost time. [later:] HOUSE: So you’re saying Chase did screw up. CHASE: Or Foreman screwed up. FOREMAN: Big hand points to minutes. Maybe you got them mixed up? [later:] CHASE: We’ve had three results that haven’t been consistent. One of them must be wrong. FOREMAN: Or two of them.

fools for love:

[house is trying to bet foreman on wilson's new girlfriend. foreman hasn't accepted the bet:]

HOUSE: We could spend all day arguing whether we bet or not. Give me the hundred bucks. CHASE: Come on Foreman, pay up. He won! Or we could just never finished the DDX.

[later:]

HOUSE: Aha! Brochure to a jazz festival in the Poconos this weekend. CHASE: Wilson likes jazz. Foreman, pay the man.

[later:] CHASE: If [the patients] can live here without killing each other, they must really be in love. It’s tiny. FOREMAN: Then how come it’s taking you so long to search it? CHASE: Box of condoms in his jacket. FOREMAN: I know you’re poor now, but buy your own.

[later:]

CHASE: Hey, Foreman, can you wear the beeper for a couple hours this weekend? [off his look:] What? FOREMAN: We just destroyed two peoples’ lives. CHASE: I’m not allowed to run errands any more? FOREMAN: I’d like to see some sign that it affects you, or that you recognize that it affects other people. CHASE: So are you going to wear the beeper or not?

finding judas:

CHASE: I wasn't kissing his ass. FOREMAN: It just looked that way from our angle. You on your knees, House bending over. CHASE: He predicted the pancreatitis. CAMERON: It's his dad's fault. CHASE: My dad was an ass. CAMERON: But you did everything he wanted you to and, in return, you got everything you wanted. CHASE: Yeah! It's that simple. CAMERON: His strategy worked. Dad got him a cushy job, paid for his cushy life. CHASE: Cut me out of his cushy will. [cameron looks surprised/apologetic here; foreman continues:] FOREMAN: I told you, just his nature. Poor guy's hardwired to kiss ass.

[later:]

CHASE: Tritter finally froze my accounts. FOREMAN: Really? CHASE: You surprised? Why wouldn't he? FOREMAN: I figured if he was singling you out, you must have done something different. CHASE: What? Like talking? FOREMAN: Yeah. And now that he's frozen your accounts, you probably will. You need the cash, right? CHASE: He doesn't freeze my accounts, I'm guilty. He does freeze my accounts, I'm guilty. [foreman shrugs]

top secret:

FOREMAN: House would do Wilson before you'd do Chase. CAMERON: No, you would do House and Wilson before I do Chase. Now can we get back to work? CHASE: She did me once! FOREMAN: [laughing] She was stoned!

act your age:

CHASE: For the record, Cameron's the one who broke it off. FOREMAN: Not interested. No masses in the hypothalamus. CHASE: I wanted more. She didn't share my feelings. FOREMAN: I feel like I'm in a similar position.

resignation:

CHASE: So, why are you leaving? Or is it just some sort of power play? FOREMAN: You can have my parking space. My locker. CHASE: Is it about House? FOREMAN: Let me get all sensitive and confide in you. CHASE: Why wouldn't you want to tell me? FOREMAN: I don't like you. Never have, never will. You want me to share some more?

the jerk:

FOREMAN: I'll do it. But I've got a job interview after work. Anything comes up later, you guys handle it. CAMERON: Need a peer recommendation? FOREMAN: Thanks. [he looks at chase, who sort of shrugs] CHASE: Cameron's should suffice.

[later:]

CAMERON: Foreman's interview in New York got screwed up. CHASE: I heard. CAMERON: Foreman thought it was House, House thought it was Cuddy. Cuddy thought it was Wilson, Wilson thought it was me. CHASE: And you think it was me? [chuckles] God… you think I… sabotaged Foreman? I don't even want him here. CAMERON: I know. CHASE: Then why would I do…? CAMERON: I think you sabotaged Foreman just to sabotage Foreman.

[randomnameless]

Why do the FEH devs insist on ignoring Nabatean lore so much?

I recently had a surprisingly cordial discussion on redshit with someone about the "nabateans = colonisers" take, and one of the main points raised was that the game was purposedly foggy around Nabateans/Sothis/their story because it would obviously favor a certain narrative (and thus make another narrative look, uh, not that marketable anymore).

To be honest, we still ended up with a product that had a lead go "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and yet that lead is still marketable enough to have raunchy cipher cards and 5 FEH alts, so I actually wonder if, while pissing on that lore had that purpose, it was ultimately pointless since Supreme Leader can still sell goodies despite her incarnation in FE16.

And not only Supreme Leader - but the entirety of WC where we basically have 70% of the cast crying/complaining about their "mixed blood" or lack of and basically adding their 10 cents to the "this race and its blood is the reason why the world sucks".

I mean, can you imagine Sylvain selling any goodies and alts if Flayn replied to his "wah wah people only are kind to me and want to fuck me because I have Nabatean blood :(" by some uncharacteristic "good for you, I have to hide my ears, had to dye my hair, have to lie about my family because if the truth is found out about my identity, I will be hunted and vivisected like an animal and harvested for parts by people who call my kin abominations - just like what happens in the game where the same people who call my kin "abominations" ally with a classmate who calls me a creature and pretends I am incapable of human feelings based on my race".

FE Fodlan's main selling point is its cast of students, for various reasons, but even if I tried to kid myself, Nopes and FEH made it clears : students are the main selling point.

If you spare more time and attention to the Nabatean plot/lore, the students either grow from "likeable" to "despicable" or worse, you won't gaf about them because yeah sure, Hilda might be upset because people expect things from her due to her crust, but it would feel like a "peanut" compared to Seteth's irrational (granted, it's not so irrational since GW exists) fear that Flayn's newest friends would dissect her if they learnt she was a Nabatean, and being conflicted by finally letting her have human friends and form bonds she crave, or protect her due to the trauma from the genocide of their species.

Don't get me wrong, I love peanuts, I mean, not everyone can have a tragik of loaded backstory!

And yet, given how this verse's DNA is "can you fight against the red emperor who uwus about you", they had to add copious amounts of Earl Grey to their games so there's no clear-cut factions :

The "Your alien blood and its influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command" vs "I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

is turned to :

"Your alien blood Crests and its your church's influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command"

"I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

Sprinkle with the cast's hammering here and there that the "reforms" might be needed - but never develop on what they are - and add a few baseless and groundless takes as a toping (basically everything Claude says about tolerance and the general "isolationism/foreign policy" stuff) and you get FE Fodlan where the Red Emperor's war isn't seen as the catastrophe it is in the other entries from the series!

Now, for FEH...

FWIW, the F!F!Billy's trailer had them try to explain that Sothis was a bit pissed about her slaughtered/massacred children when Nopes never gave any reason about why she was pissed - maybe on Billy's behalf bcs Jerry's dead, but come on, she would indeed deserve the medal of the worst parent in the franchise if that was the case, since Billy can murder her daughter without Sothis taking over ! - but given that they cannot write/go against the source game those characters are from.

They tried a bit, with B!Supreme Leader and Hegemongard's FB, but then it stopped (because she had no "new unit" released since then lol) and I can understand why : Hegemongard came out before the Supreme Emblem, and Hegemongard hates dragons who are seen/perceived as gods by some of their human followers. Come FE17, and now Supreme Emblem accepts Alear because they are "one of the good ones". We can come up with HCs and details and talk about what are emblems or if Hegemongard's views were only hers at the end of AM all day long... But imo, Doylist wise, it still feels it's a retcon because the devs from the main games tried to scrap and remove the most "controversial" traits she had.

For the other characters... Well, you see what Marianne is in FEH (but even in her base games), she's one of the few characters who reacts - in a way - to the partial history about relics and demonic beasts and all... only to give sad uwus to Maurice.

FE16 (and Nopes) refused to have any "student" character react to the Nabatean lore/reveal, about what are relics and all. There are no lines, Claude shared some knowledge in the explore section of VW's last chapter, but we don't have anyone muse or think or even talk about what are relics, what are crests, and what kind of fuckery their ancestors or the ancient humans of Fodlan did.

With that in mind, FEH can't do much : either they write Marianne in a retcon-y way like what happened for Hegemongard (and they're not afraid to piss on characterisation, look at Lyon!), or they flanderise her "character" and develop her around 3 lines she had in the game in her paralogue, and continue to give sad uwus about Momo when he was at best a guy who slaughtered and murdered so much that he abused the Nabatean turned into a relic to the point where he turned in a demonic beast even if he had a matching crest, or at worst, had been part of Nemesis's piñata party in Zanado and was something of a genocider.

Tldr :

Why FE Fodlan never gaf about Nabateans : earl grey + the marketable cast has to stay marketable and you can't sell peanuts at the same price you'd sell swordfish

Why FEH dgaf about Nabatean lore : they can't afford to retcon characters + they have to sell peanut alts with the same seasoning they had in their base game.

For what it's worth though, I think FEH is more daring than the base game(s) given how they gave more lines and screentime to Rhea - through her different alts - than GW. And they even designed her Halloween!alt's lines to piss on some of Claude's assertions, while the various FB involving members of the church also - indirectly - reply to some accusations thrown their way in FE16 when, FE16, never gave them an opportunity or lines to explain that those takes were full of dung.

*"but random, maybe she doesn't know that the crests she often decries is "dragon blood"!"

It's highly debatable, especially given what she and Hubert throw to Billy in CF - but even if she doesn't, Doylist wise we still have a character who, knowingly or not, says "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and who is never called out on her prejudice. That's more of an issue regarding the general writing though, she has to be a red emperor and took pages from Ashnard's book, and yet, the player must still feel bad and want to romance her, so her mindest/goal cannot be looked at too closely, because, I guess, even the devs thought it would be difficult to romance her (thus sell goodies!) if more light was shed on the "blood from this race corrupts our people" schtick -> which in turn would also make characters whose backstory and gimmick rely on "crying about crests" be way less likeable, thus marketable and able to sell goodies.

[mspaint-flower]

hi

gentle reminder that me and my family are still in need of help and my comms are open, i have school so i may not be very fast but i try my best to be despite the situation i currently live in it would be great if you could help in any way, even just by sharing. thank you for everyone who helped me so far (and a special thanks to EmeliaK), i had wished by now this would be over but it's not. so i gotta keep fighting

thank you