#might post a few other old things I wrote

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Old men aren’t always wise, Primo is well aware of that ; his own father being the most striking exemple of elder stupidity he can think of. Yet he, Primo Emeritus, humbly thinks he himself has been made wise by life. Raising three younger brothers since their idiot of a father wouldn’t...well, it definitely taught him things, and, most importantly, allowed him to form a strong bond with them.

He knows his brothers like the back of his hand ; severe, cold and bitter Secondo, who shies away from the very love he desperately craves ; flamboyant, charismatic Terzo, hidding a bottomless pit of self-hatred under pretty smiles, witty jokes and flirty comments ; sweet, kind-hearted Copia, who feels like an impostor as he battles with Sister Imperator’s clumsy, sometimes harsh and unfit motherly affection. They aren’t perfect, and neither is Primo or their relationship, but they tried, tried so hard, built trust, love and loyalty between all of them, and in the end, it’s all that matter.

Point is. Primo is wise, and he knows his brothers. Knows Terzo – no, not Terzo. Alessandro. So as he watches the scene unfolding in front of him, he knows instantly. It’s in the way his brother’s eyes linger on the rythm guitarist, not long enough for it to be obvious, but enough for Primo to notice. In the way Terzo is almost always subcounciously turning toward the quintessence ghoul as he talks and offers new ideas. In the way his face lights up when Omega praises said ideas, and add his owns. In the way the singer takes every occasions to brush against his ghoul, to adjust the position of his crooked grucifx, to pat his strong arms. How Terzo’s ears grow pink when they make eye contact for just a fraction too long.

Omega is, admitedly, harder to read, even though Primo worked with the ghoul for a time. He always liked him, sturdy, serious, as amazing a pack leader as a musician. He seems more relaxed with Terzo than he was with Primo, a tad more playful, which the older man doesn’t resent. And despite his difficulties to intrepret the quintessence ghoul’s attitude, there are signs that don’t lie. A way of angling himself so that Terzo is never out of his sight, leaning ever so slightly into Terzo’s fleeting touch, praising him with a special kind of warmth in his voice, the ocasional soft, fond chuckle at one of the singer’s joke, absent-mindedly brushing his tail against Terzo’s leg.

If all that wasn’t enough, the other ghouls’ frequent shared knowing glances would be great giveaways as well. So Primo smiles and keeps listening, keeps watching.

Once they reach the end of the practice session, Terzo saunters toward the armchair his older brother folded himself in, ever the showman, grinning.

« So, what do you think, old man ? »

Primo chuckles softly.

« I see you’ve been working hard. I must say, I’m impressed. You’ve grown, and your music with you. »

For just a moment, Primo gets a small, private smile ; Alessandro’s smile, as his little brother squeezes his bony hand in his gloved one.

« Thank you, » he whispers. Then his smile widens, turns into that cocky grin everyone knows, his voice rising again. « Had any favorite ? Ah, your growling vocals-loving hide must have liked Mummy Dust, right ? But you’re a sentimental one too. Maybe He is ? »

Primo shakes his head with a huff.

« Both are very nice, as is the rest of the album, but I have to confess, Deus In Absentia struck me the most. »

At that, Terzo’s face makes something complicated, and he looks over his shoulder, meeting Omega’s eyes from where the ghoul is packing his guitar. He stares back, tipping his head in acknowledgement. Terzo looks back at Primo with an expression just a tiniest bit more eager than he’d usually let it be.

« Really ? Omega helped me with the lyrics. I admit, it might be one of my favorites as well. »

As always, Terzo is quick to offer his arm to his older brother when Primo gets up, much less gracefully than in his youth.

« Well, it is truly a touching song, in my opinion. Both emotional and majestic. »

He leads the both of them to his rose garden in comfortable silence, and only speaks up once he’s sure they are truly alone.

« So, Omega, eh ? Somehow, I’m not even surprised. »

Terzo splutters, almost tripping over his own feet.

« Wh- what ? I don’t- »

A warm smile pulls at Primo’s lips, lightening his weathered face.

« Alessandro Terzo Emeritus, I have known you for your entire life. I know how being in love looks on you. »

For a few seconds, his little brother stares at him, before letting out a long sigh and running a hand through his hair, ears going pink again.

« He is- he’s special, Prim- Dante. He- I never felt that way before. Not that much. »

Primo huffs, gives Terzo’s arm a light squeeze.

« I am glad. I always thought he was a truly admirable ghoul. I trust he takes good care of you ? »

Terzo hums, hanging his head down, raven black locks brushing his features.

« It might sound stupid, but he makes me feel...special. Me, not Papa Emeritus the third. Like he can see right through every layers of bullshit I wrap myself in. »

Primo stops walking, turning around to face his little brother. His happy-looking, flustered little brother. Softly, gently, he presses his bony hand to Terzo’s chest, right above the heart.

« You deserve it. You deserve someone who sees you. I am so, so very happy for you. »

Terzo lights up.

« I’m thinking...I’d like him to know my name. My real name, I mean. I know he would use it wisely ; hell, he was long hesitant about calling me Terzo in public. »

Though it isn’t a question, he looks up through his lashes at Primo, in search of something. The older man pats his brother head with a raspy chuckle. Gives him the reassurance he needs ; the one their father could never give them ; the one Primo endavored to offer his brothers whenever he could.

« I’m sure he’ll be honored. A lovely ghoul indeed. » Primo takes a step back, considers, then decides that a bit of teasing cannot hurt. «  And he’s big too, isn’t he ? »

Terzo chokes on his inhale, instinctively covering his ears, either to hide the flush that can only be seen there because of the paint, or to fruitlessly try and block words he already heard.

« I- the hell ? »

With a snort, Primo smiles mischieviously.

« What ? He is, you barely reach what, his chest perhaps ? »

He waits for realization to dawn on Terzo before adding :

« But, you know. Huge down there too, I’m sure. »

His little brother splutters, before shaking his head incredulously.

« If you were Secondo, I would have kicked you, old man. »

Primo chuckles.

« I am sure that if Secondo had made such a comment, you two would be fighting like you used to as kids, rolling on the ground and all that. »

Terzo smirks.

« Well, I wouldn’t be able to pull his hair anymore. »

With a tut, Primo swats his younger brother on the back of his head.

« Low blow. But, in all seriousness. I am so very glad you are happy. »

« ...Thanks, Dante. »

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[inkwellkitten]

Parenting Support (DP x DC)

Inspired by this post, but it ended up with a very different tone when I wrote it out. 🤷‍♀️

~~

Jazz Fenton really thought her lifelong parentification would have prepared her a lot more for actual parenting. Turns out, a newborn and a preschool to teenage child were not at all similar, despite the newborn being the same boy she had already raised. Being barely 19, in a new dimension, and trying not to think about what she left behind, she was drowning.

She hadn’t slept in 38 hours when she discovered a flyer for the Single Parents Support Meetup. This group seemed to be in a less shady part of town, plus with Danny wailing in the middle of the coffee shop, she knew they couldn’t go on this way. Isolation would be the death of them both at this rate.

This turned out to save both of their lives over and over. Arty, Grace, Roxanne, Bruce, Joanna, and Alexis got her in ways others didn’t. She couldn’t hide from them that she hadn’t given birth to Danny, and she didn’t want to. Grace and Bruce both adopted and still needed help. It didn’t matter if she was raising her brother to them at all.

After the end of the meeting, Danny woke up in his stroller. When she didn’t respond before he started crying, she learned for the first time that he definitely had his ghost powers when he managed to levitate almost a foot before she could catch him. When her wide eyes looked around, only Bruce had seen, and he had quickly moved to use his large frame to hide what was happening from view.

“Be careful,” he said, with an unusually serious expression. The same man who lamented his little Dickie climbing the chandelier during a recent snow day with a goofy grin, seemed to almost be covered in shadows like he was a ghost himself. “It can be really unsafe for metahumans in Gotham. If you ever need help, here’s my number. For anything.”

—

For all it started with formal messages about safe daycares and where to buy phase-proof restraints for Danny’s carseat, their messages quickly devolved.

Bruce: okay but seriously how do I get Dick to stop swinging from the chandeliers? It was cute when he was like 10 feet up but the ballroom is at least 30 feet!! How did he get up there?

Jazz: I’m assuming same way Danny got into my bed last night from his crib. Being smacked awake by a 6 month old at 2am is terrifying.

Bruce: fair enough. Alfred made Danny’s favorite sweet potatoes. Want to come over for a few hours and take a nap?

Jazz: you are a lifesaver. Be over in 30. Also, if you really don’t want him on the chandeliers, get him something up high that wobbles and swings. He’s probably seeking the stimuli he’s missing from the circus. He might still act out, but it probably won’t be as much if the other thing is more fun.

[drchucktingle]

reverse call out post

i have noticed that SOMETIMES it really bothers folks to discover i am sincere and not playing a character. that tinglers are deep artistic expression. i think it  because these few buckaroos are often kind and even politically left but had problematic ways just a few years back

these buckaroos are forced to confront their previous assumptions about neurodivergence and queerness, which is bound to happen as time trots on and cultural landscape evolves. but this sudden realization they have about themselves apparently MUST be ignored and pushed away

theres BIG TIME buckaroos on this very platform who publicly made fun of and gatekept my autism. these posts are STILL THERE. folks questioning my bisexuality. and these are buds who at one time worked with chuck and were pretending to ‘like me’ in way that i now see was irony

these are a previous generation of liberal ‘comedy forum’ buds who laugh and laugh at ‘ridiculous bad erotica’ and wrote as a money scheme. those who would later say with concern ‘chuck tingle is homophobic for making fun of queer erotica’. the same THEY might gleefully write

and i think their reaction is a way to deal with truth that THEY were doing these things ironically and have ABSOLUTELY NO CONCEPT that someone else couldve been creating joyful queer neurodivergent art during the same timeline with sincerity instead of irony.

so now as chuck gets taken more seriously they have to confront something. question of ‘wait, was i laughing at a real person the whole time? was i calling someone homophobic when in reality it is much more homophobic to MAKE that accusation, because queerness is not a monolith?’

old posts calling out chuck as fake, dehumanizing me, gatekeeping my place on spectrum of autism AND sexuality are still up. they wont be addressed because these folks cannot ever acknowledge they treated someones very existence as a joke. they will not admit THEY needed to grow

and honestly buckaroos, I FORGIVE THEM. nobody is dang perfect and the internet is swirling with irony poisoning. those folks on old forums were BATHING IN IT DAILY. it does not bother me because it is the past, but pondering on it during moments like this i am compelled to write

i do not bring this up to punish for past, but to hope buckaroos remember lesson in the future: you do not need to gatekeep. you do not need to make yourself the arbiter of others lifestyle and identity. you do not need to score online points as a way of proving your goodness.

proving love is complicated sometimes, and a big part or that complicated journey is accepting there are some unique buckaroos out there, buds who actually ENJOY making neurodivergent art and expressing their queerness in unique ways. who need time to learn THEMSELVES through art

it is my belief and suggestion that buds allow others this space. to accept them as they come. to TROT WITH THEM INTO THE FUTURE. thats a heck of a way to prove love is real. i think we can make this trot of sincerity together and DANG am i looking forward to it. LOVE IS REAL

[oikarma]

don't look back in anger

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: she knows it's too late as she's walking on by. or: all the times you have talked to max verstappen since that night.

a/n: more angsty than the first part? a lot more written stuff 🤕 sorry if you don't like that kinda thing.

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by f1 and 3,279,148 others

kellypiquet: To us, and to many more years together 🤍

tagged: maxverstappen

view 69,501 comments

user1: oh my god it's happening!!!

user2: about time he put a ring on her finger...they've already had a kid together

user3: eh eh, eh eh, i just want it to be you

user4: can we normalize not bringing up people's exes in the comment sections of their new partners? user5: @/user4 max and yn weren't even exes get your facts right user3: @/user4 what 😭 it's a cute song and they're getting married user6: my chronically online ass cannot comprehend how people like yn's songs but don't know about the lore behind them

yourinstagram: congrats, kelly! * liked by kellypiquet

user7: maybe max is the problem guys. user8: @/user7 like if his situationship and his fiance can get along so well.. user9: i would crash out if my ex best friend slash maybe soulmate commented on my fiance's post and said congrats to HER and not me user10: women supporting women 💪

user11: the ring is so pretttyyy

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ONE.

The sun has started to dip, gold strokes across the pearly white decor. Around you are guests and heightened murmurs. Of course they're excited: it's Max Verstappen's wedding. A world champion among the greats.

You're still standing there, left by a few guests who wanted to offer their thoughts on your music. Their words were kind and well-meaning, but all they did was remind you of how queer it was. That you were at Max and Kelly's wedding. Sweat beads pile on your forehead, threatening to ruin your makeup; the dress feels heavy, too heavy. It might suffocate you. You straighten your back and take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out.

"You came."

Max's voice is low and hesitant, but it easily breaks through your train of thought. His words are just placed out there, like he's not sure if he has a right to say them at all. They sit there in front of you, an ache, a question.

There's a knot in your stomach. This was a bad idea.

"Kelly invited me." Your voice is steady, yet it sounds distant. Like someone else is speaking your lines for you, making things alright. You don't want to be here anymore. Not like this. "What did you expect? That I wouldn't show up?"

Max's hand trembles. He wants to step closer, you think. But he can't. Not like this. Not now.

"I didn't know if...you'd want to see me," he stammers.

You stiffen at his words, remembering the clear boundaries between the two of you. The paparazzi aren't here: it's a private event, at his insistence. But there are others, others who are watching and listening Max Verstappen talk to the girl who wrote an album of songs about the love she could not return him.

A sharp breath escapes your lips. You don't want to deal with this. Not now, when you're both standing on the brink of something final.

"Max, this is Kelly's wedding." Your voice hardens. "Your wedding. She’s about to marry you. So whatever you think this is—whatever it was—it doesn’t matter anymore."

Max looks at you, his jaw tightening. An old habit, you remember, as he chews back the words he can't say aloud. A part of you wants to reach out to touch his face.

It's up to you, as it always has been. He wants to say something, to reach for the words that will make you understand, but he knows it’s too late for that. The realization dawns on his eyes. The past is too tangled, too complicated. And Kelly is waiting for him to be by her side.

"I never meant for things to end like this." His voice cracks slightly, and it’s clear that the weight of your history is crushing him. He takes another step forward, almost against his will. "I asked for too much. I'm sorry I hurt you."

The silence between you two feels thick, stretching longer than it should. Max’s eyes soften at your words, but you can see the hesitation in him, the part of him that wishes he could do more, be more for you. Enough.

And it hurts in a way that you don’t want to admit. Not here, not now.

You should walk away. This conversation isn’t for this moment. But you can’t move. Your feet are cemented to the ground, and Max is standing too close.

"I just... I miss you," he whispers, his voice breaking under the weight of the noose he's never fully escaped.

A shiver runs down your spine at how raw his voice is. Your chest tightens.

There it is. That thing you’d been trying to ignore. You miss him too. In ways that make no sense when you look at him, standing there, about to tie his life to someone else.

You wish things were different. You wish that you could let yourself feel what he’s offering. You’ve wondered, countless times, if you made the wrong choice. If you had let yourself fall, would it have been easier? Or would it have just destroyed you both in the end?

Max shifts his weight, his gaze never leaving yours, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the hope flickering there like it might ignite. It almost makes you want to step forward.

Almost.

But you know better. You can't.

"I..." You swallow, your voice rough. The words scatch in your throat. "I can’t do this, Max. Not now."

His face falls.

You hate that you’re creating this distance, but you have to. It’s the only way to stop both of you from falling back into this mess you've never cleaned up. Writing your songs was supposed to help and it only worsened your what-ifs.

You force yourself to breathe again. "You're about to marry Kelly. You can’t look back at me now, Max."

A long silence hangs between you two. Max opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You know the truth. Sure, you've asked yourself if your intuition was right. But you know. You’ve always known.

You can barely hear him when he lands the last blow. "I never stopped loving you."

It's too real. He's struggling and you can hear it in his voice. This was a bad idea. This is his wedding. You can feel your walls crumbling at his words, the things you’ve buried beneath the surface shaking loose, but you push it all back down. You have to.

"Don't," your voice cracks. You can't hear anything but your own words and your heartbeat. "Please don't."

The two of you stand there. Life keeps moving forward, people laughing, and you think the piano is going to start soon. It's going to mark Kelly's entrance. And Kelly's entrance it is, into Max's life. For good.

For good.

You have to walk away.

And you take that first step back, away from your first friend. The first thing in your life that fit like it was made for you; never to be broken apart.

It still doesn’t stop the ache in your chest, but it's the right thing.

Max breathes in behind you, such a staggered sound it could be a plea for help.

You move toward your seat, hoping he will not look upon this moment too badly. That one day, in the future, his anger will have left him and he will realize this was your last act of love: to help him, even when it means breaking his heart a little bit more.

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liked by lando and 1,792,164 others

f1gossipofficial: Lewis Hamilton was spotted this weekend in Monaco hanging out with Y/N L/N. They collaborated on Y/N's debut album, even sharing a kiss in the music video for "toxic to the end." Is a romance brewing? And how does Max Verstappen feel about all this?

tagged: yourinstagram, lewishamilton

view all 61,382 comments

user1: oh...max..

user2: oml he's literally MARRIED he's OVER. HER. it was four years ago. why does no one understand?

user3: this feels so intrusive but whatever. why are you taking pictures of them grocery shopping together 😭 let them live their life

user4: i love how lando is casually liking this.

user5: @/lando WHAT DO YOU KNOW lando: 🤐

user6: i literally said this as soon as the mv dropped. Y/N girl you have the sexist man alive as your friend MAKE A MOVE

user7: they have such good chemistry though!! did you see the rimowa interview??? same vibe, they're so adorable user8: so much better than her and max...am i right?

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r/PopCultureChat · 1 day ago hemsworthss

Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet calling it quits.

You might call me insane. You might say nothing official is out, but I think this might be true. As of October 2025:

Kelly unpinned both the pregnancy and the marriage announcement on her account. This is odd: she's had both up there since she made the posts. It probably isn't a matter of her clearing her feed or anything, because her Vogue shoot is still pinned. I looked for the post on her account and it was GONE. I looked for the pregnancy post on Max's account and she was no longer listed as a collaborator. Max was never a collaborator on the marriage announcement.

She's been posting a lot with P and the young 'un, but Max isn't in any of them. In his Team Redline streams, Max is always alone. Neither of his kids has appeared. Judging from the locations on her posts, she and her kids are on vacation in Europe.

Kelly wasn't at the last two Grand Prixes. She posted a story of her watching one on the couch but that was it. Neither of her kids were there, either.

Max has been posting more recently and he's been spending time with friends over family. Lando has him in a few dumps: playing paddle, Max even holding a guitar. Who plays guitar? Y/N L/N but that's not the point. Max is learning new hobbies and spending alone time.

I think I'm right. And if DeuxMoi has anything to say about a famous athlete/model couple filing for divorce, I'm placing my bets on Max and Kelly. Thoughts?

dannyric03: I don't want to believe it. He's so happy with the kids. Fatherhood suits him well.

↳ AppleBiter12: But fatherhood and marriage are different things. I thought maybe they got married because they thought the child would bring them closer. And it didn't.

hamiltons8th: I don't know. It seems debatable. Maybe they're just taking a break. It has been a stressful season so far.

↳ FantasyFox719: Right. But Max loves his kids, of course he'd want to spend time with him. I can't think of why he wouldn't spend his time between races (as he normally does) with his family instead of colleagues. ↳ hamiltons8th: @/FantasyFox719 Well him and Lando are best mates, something like that. I do think it's odd he's not with his kids. Maybe Kelly suggested it.

PeacockJazz450: Unrelated but did you see the news about Y/N and Lewis?

↳ hemsworthss: I did, actually. I think they're a very cute couple (if they're dating) that complement each other's personalies and goals very well. Lewis is very career-focused and so is Y/N. Love both of them lots. Even if they're friends I'm sure it's a great relationship. ↳ PeacockJazz450: @/hemsworthss Lol. I agree. Maybe Max crashed out after seeing that and decided he needed a break too 😂 There was this one tweet going around that was like "Imagine winning in Abu Dhabi 21 but losing the love of your life to the man you beat." ↳ hemsworthss: @/PeacockJazz450 Oh that's diabolical. Celebrity drama is bad enough but so many of the drivers are bops and their dating life is mildly concerning. Very interesting though. ↳ PeacockJazz450: @/hemsworthss At least Y/N hasn't dated anyone that we know of. I hope it folds out well.

ApplestoApples: if it's true that's such a shame. they've only been married for a year or so.

↳ 5_vettel: Agreed. But celebrity relationships never seem very stable.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

kellypiquet has added to their stories

[ caption: family first 🧑‍🧒‍🧒 ]

replies:

user1: the one parent?? the two kids?? KELLY DID YOU SPLIT

user2: uh oh...

user3: max what did you do this time

user4: hope you're okay queen!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by ladygaga, lewishamilton and 3,184,932 others

yourinstagram: left the door open and this DIVA walked through 📢 "APT." is out now & you can watch it live at my burnout mini tour!!

🔗 tickets on sale at ynln.com/live

tagged: brunomars

user1: new album? y/n??

user2: BRUNO DELIVERED OH MY GOD

user3: first lewis now bruno how is she getting all these icons for collabs 😭 actually insane her team must be working overtime

brunomars: don't forget to drink dance shower and freak

user4: not him saying shower instead of smoke lolol bruno being a responsible man as always

user5: i hear the dating rumors

user6: max verstappen. did you see the kiss? i bet you saw the kiss

user7: watch him block you on insta user8: two more boys y/n has kissed now and none of them are called max verstappen!

user9: could not be more proud of you queen 🤍 from starting an acting career, to dropping an insane album, and to collaborating with huge artists. i'm sure you'll keep doing great things and no one can stop you. * liked by yourinstagram

user10: what does this mean for her and lewis ☹️

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── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

TWO.

The crowd is still screaming as you scramble down the stairs, face flushed and out of breath. Sweat clings to your skin and your chest rises and falls, the adrenaline still coursing through you. Everything feels infinite, all the love shown out there drowning out your doubts and your past.

"Hell of a show you put out there, rockstar."

Lewis Hamilton leans against the table with your glass of water on it. His arms are crossed, an easy grin on his lips. He's dressed like he belongs here—which, admittedly, he now does.

He already knew about the concert: you couldn't wait to tell him when Bruno. Mars. Called. You. It wasn't exactly good timing, him just finishing the Mexico City Grand Prix the day before, but he came anyway. And dressed impeccably, at that.

You let out a breathy laugh, grabbing the glass. "You're just saying that because you got backstage treatment."

Lewis chuckles. "You know I mean it. You were unreal. When's the album coming out?"

"Hold on, hold on. Don't rush me. Give me a podium celebration first, will you?"

He tilts his head and you can't quite breathe. He says you were unreal but he's unreal. It still shakes you, sometime, how such a wonderful and caring and completely perfect man picked you to be his...friend.

You keep it at that word for now, but appreciate how good he looks with shades pushed back into his braids.

"Depends. You up for a champagne shower?"

Nothing flusters you like Lewis's quick wit.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. "Not in this dress, I’m not."

Lewis chuckles, his gaze lingering on you for half a second longer than necessary. "Shame. Would’ve been a pretty memorable moment. We'll have to reschedule."

You're aware of how close he is. How the conversation feels lighter than it should. How his presence is grounding in a way you don’t often get anymore. Your thoughts are wandering again, eyes tracing the curve of his mouth and—

The air shifts.

It’s subtle, like a drop in temperature. Like something's pressing against your ribs. You feel the presence and you know exactly what it is.

(Or maybe it's the fact that your team has gone completely silent. No more hurried congratulations and squeals in the background.)

Max.

He’s standing just a few steps away, lacking his usual Red Bull gear. His hair is all messed up, as if he got off a plane and came straight here. His jaw is set, his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes flicking between you and Lewis. There’s something there—something simmering behind that calculated look of his.

Your grip tightens on the water bottle.

"Didn’t expect to see you here, Max." Your voice is even, but it takes effort.

He exhales sharply, shifting his weight. "You think I'd miss this?"

The words are simple, but the matter is not.

Lewis, ever observant, stays exactly where he is—relaxed but present. "Didn’t know you were a fan of good music, mate." His voice is smooth. Yet deliberate. You can't do this right now. Why does he have to show up whenever things in your life are getting good?

Max’s gaze flickers to Lewis, and for a second, something almost like amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth before disappearing just as quickly. "I've been listening for years."

It lands heavier than it should. Your pulse jumps and both of them are probably aware of it. Max isn't talking about the music.

Max’s eyes stay on you, searching. "You didn't think I'd come, did you?"

You exhale carefully. "I didn't...invite you."

Max’s jaw tightens. "Well. Here I am."

It's too much. The weight of his words, the way Lewis is next to you—grounding, solid, present—and Max is just there looking like he's trying to figure out how everything slipped through his fingers.

The air between the three of you stretches, taut and fragile. Max’s words still hang there—Well. Here I am.

You shift under Max’s stare, your grip tightening on the water bottle still in your hand. Your throat feels dry.

"What do you want me to say, Max? That I expected you to come? That I thought about it?"

Max exhales sharply. It pierces you like a knife. "I don’t know. Maybe." His voice is lower now, almost bitter. "You never wanted to talk about it."

His voice is rough when he speaks again. "Tell me you don’t think about it."

You are acutely aware of Lewis's presence, but Max is slowly taking over your thoughts.

You inhale sharply. It's all you can do. "Max—"

"Tell me you don’t wonder."

Your throat tightens.

You do. You have.

Some nights when the lights are off and the city finally shuts itself up, you let yourself think about it. About him and the moment he kissed you. The way his voice cracked when he said your name.

But you also remember the fear. The way you couldn't have let yourself fold—not then.

And now?

Now, Lewis is here. Steady and patient in ways Max never was. Lewis, who has never asked you for anything more than what you could give, who doesn’t need you to be anything other than what you already are. Lewis, who will let himself be just a friend. Lewis...

You glance at Lewis instinctively. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something softer in the way he looks at you. He understands.

This, Max notices.

His jaw clenches, the vein in his neck jumping. His hands curl into fists at his sides and then relax so fast you could've missed it. Is it for show, all of this? Does he want you to think he cares or not? He exhales, looking away for a brief second. Just enough to compose himself. When he looks back, something about him is more guarded.

"Right," Max says, much quieter. He nods, more to himself than to you. "I get it."

But the problem is that you don’t think he does.

Despite everything, despite Lewis, despite the way you had chosen to walk away.

You still...

Max lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Because it’s never the time, is it?"

Not this. You flinch, because he's right. You don't want to talk about it. How he kissed you, drunk but so eerily sober in the way all his thoughts came out at once. The weight of everything in between the two of you spilled over, something you weren't ready for. About how, even now, sometimes you catch yourself missing him before you remind yourself why you had to leave.

The fear is back.

Your whole life had began to shift, focusing on you. Y/N L/N, rising actress. People talked about you...and your friendship with Max. What it was. And if you had let yourself feel something for him—if you had let yourself fall—what would have been left of you?

"There was nothing to talk about," you say. It's hollow, like another word could crush it into smithereens.

Max's mouth purses into a thin line. "That’s bullshit. You know it."

You're too aware of the people in the room, again.The way Lewis is still there, watching but not interrupting, not yet. The way Max is standing too close, and yet not close enough.

You shake your head, only able to reiterate all the things you've already told him. "This isn't the time for this."

Lewis shifts beside you then, speaking for the first time in minutes. He's had enough. His voice is calm, smooth, but there’s something sharper beneath it. Water over rocks, threatening to split the waves any minute. "If you're looking for something from her, maybe you should ask yourself why you didn’t do it when it actually mattered."

Max turns to Lewis, his posture stiffening. There's a respect between the two, but spite typically taints it. Now? No malice—just frustration, just regret. Just something ugly and old between all of you.

You close your eyes for half a second, steadying yourself. When you open them, Max is looking at you again, waiting.

But he’s always been waiting, hasn't he?

And you?

You’ve always been running. From what? you wonder now. From something real?

Something has changed. Now you're not sure if you're tired of running or just afraid of what happens when you stop.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

kellypiquet and maxverstappen have added to their stories

replies:

user1: so it was true??

user2: praying for you kelly <3

user3: 5 bucks it has to do with y/n and whatever he did when he showed up at her concert

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

THREE.

The coffee shop is cozy, the kind of place you go when you want to be alone with your thoughts. You're sitting at a corner table, flipping through your phone. Doomscrolling, they call it.

It’s been a while since you last saw Max—months, maybe. His divorce from Kelly was all over the media, and yet, here you are, sitting in the same coffee shop as him. The silence is louder than any of the questions you had when the news first broke.

You didn’t expect to run into him today.

You'd also thought you were over all of it. Buried, deep down. But when his voice meets your ears, it's all coming back.

"You still like this place, huh?" Max sounds like he's been thinking about his question for a while.

Glancing up, surprise flickers across your face. "Max...didn't expect to see you here."

He stands there for a moment, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. You feel the awkward tension rising like steam from your mug.

“You’re hard to avoid these days,” Max says, his words coming out almost casually. "Guess we keep bumping into each other."

You raise an eyebrow, setting your phone down. “We never really bumped into each other before.”

Max’s lips tighten for a moment. Caught. “No. I guess we haven't."

Neither of you move. Then, Max steps forward, hesitating just slightly before sitting across from you.

“Nice seeing you. Didn't expect it to be here."

You nod slowly, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah...well, things change."

Vulnerably flickers in his eyes. You haven't seen that in a while. "They do," he agrees.

It's unfinished, this mess between you.

"I know things got complicated," Max continues. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I didn't mean to make it worse but I did."

You want to say something—anything. But the words are stuck. Everything: the kiss, the distance, all the memories you've shared. They're all under the surface, waiting for someone to make sense of it all.

Instead, you try to find your footing. "Max...what are we even doing here?"

Something like the Max you used to know. He's less guarded, less distant. "I don't know. But I don't want things to be like this. No forever."

You swallow hard. You want to respond, but there's too much going on in your head.

Max breaks the silence. Again. This time, he's more quiet. "So, what about him? Lewis?"

The way he says it makes you wonder. Jealousy? Not that, he's past that. But it's a question wrapped in old pain. He wants to know. He always has.

You lean back in your chair, letting out a soft sigh. "What about him?"

Max’s eyes are searching. "You're...close. Do you, I don't know, care about him?"

The answer isn't as simple as either of you would like it to be. There's a part of you that wants to spill out all the feelings. That you don't know. Still don't.

"He's good to me. I don't know what else you want me to say."

It's not the answer he wants to hear, but he nods anyway. "Yeah, I get it."

The past is complicated, and the present is no less so. There's a peace with Lewis. But Max...Max has a way of making everything feel unresolved.

You bite your lip, unsure if you should talk more. You want to say something that makes sense, that will give both of you the closure you need. The truth is, there's too much unsaid. Unresolved. It's sitting there, loose strings and all.

"Maybe we never had the chance to figure it out. It wasn't just about what we felt, Max. It was everything else too."

His expression tightens. Like the words aren't forming right. The old ache is there in his words, in his face. They never healed. "I was an idiot, wasn't I?" he mutters.

You shake your head, not wanting to dwell on that when he's already beat himself up for half a decade. "We were both...confused. We had different things to figure out."

You can't place the look in his eyes. "Maybe. But I was never just confused about you. I was scared of losing it all. Of losing what we could've had."

It hits you in the chest. Then, the words come out before you can stop them. "Max...we shouldn't leave it like this. I don't want to leave it. Again."

"So what does that mean?" His voice is hopeful, though he has his doubts.

It won't be the same. That's impossible.

"I don't know. We'll have to figure it out." You hesitate before taking out your phone. "Maybe we can...talk more. Not lose touch again."

A smile breaks across his face, though he tries to hide it. "That sounds good. I'd like that."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

did you like this? i wanna make a part three. it's like...closure but not completely, you know? there's still a lot for them to deal with and also lewis! beautiful beautiful lewis! messy max or lovely lewis ? 🤨

[worstgenerationloser]

,, Indulgence. ''

Pairings: Ace, Shanks, Beckmann, and Luffy x Reader (separately!)

Summary... nsfw headcanons revolving around the topics of virginity, sex, masturbation...

A/N: This is only part one, might be split into two parts. I also wrote oneshots for each character below, but I burned out too quick, so I stored them away, but they will be posted!

Portgas D. Ace.

Ace is most definitely a virgin, not that he can't get anybody to spend the night with him, considering he's a very handsome young man. He would rather spend his time eating, sleeping, and enjoying his time in Whitebeards crew than having sex, he doesn't see it that way because he has zero clue what sex is, he's fairly educated, and he most definitely has seen a few things by pure accident in various towns, not that he made a big deal out of it, he just scurries away.

He's a virgin, and hardly masturbates, his mind is always preoccupied with other matters. That being said, what turns him on?

Ace doesn't exactly have a type, but if he were to display any sexual interest in anybody, the sense of romance would have to appear first. He's scared of hurting those he loves, so you have to be super strong to ensure that you won't die and leave him with unfulfilled dreams of love. He doesn't care what they identify as, his lover needs to have strength that could crush rookie pirates dreams.

When he masturbates, he likes to be in a dark, quiet place, he is mildly embarrassed at the fact he's touching himself sometimes, so he tries to keep quiet. Without a partner or a crush, he doesn't feel himself wanting more than just five minutes or so with his hand every other month when he feels a little bit pent up. Ace is such a sweet boy, but once he develops romantic feelings for you, he finds himself thinking of you one too many times during those few minutes alone, and eventually his romantic feelings bring wanting and longing for more than simple, sweet love.

Because he's just so sweet, he feels ashamed of his feelings for you at first. He can't stand the way he feels, it's not like he's some some pervert, right? Could he even pursue a relationship with you? He likes to think he's mature, calm, and cool, but on the inside he's still pretty immature.

If he's gonna lose his virginity, it's gonna be a while after you two start dating, he isn't with you for sex, that's for sure. Again, sex is the least of his worries, so you would have to approach the topic yourself, because, trust me, it's gonna save you a lot of time and suffering from waiting for him to make a move. He's a proper gentleman with you no matter what, and he makes up for his inexperience with his eagerness to please.

His losing his virginity is something he would have never imagined. So, who knew he would like you touching his body so much? Seriously, he finds out way too quickly that there's no way he could have achieved such a pleasure all by himself. The most physical contact he gets from others nowadays is a pat on the back from the other commanders, maybe a handshake or two, and other than that, it's just him being punched upon various other things.

To lose his virginity and indulge himself in fine dining (you) , he embodies his mature side, and decides to have a discussion with you.

Red-Haired Shanks.

Shanks? A virgin? He lost his virginity a long time ago, and that's probably why he's so confident. I don't think he has a single insecure bone left in his body by the time he's 20. He doesn't need one, anyways, the boy inherited Dark King Rayleigh's charms as if he were his son, and sometimes it's super annoying. He isn't a complete fuckboy, but he definitely got around a lot when he was a young man, but after ten years of constant hookups, be it women, men, or anybody not on the spectrum, he made the decision to settle down... Mostly because one of his old flings had a small pregnancy scare and he was horrified.

Shanks is pretty experienced, to put it simply, he knows how to put his charms to good use, how to get anybody to drop their pants after a nice long flirting session, or, if they aren't the type for casual hookups, after a sweet date.

That being said, he prefers having intercourse over masturbation, actually, I do not believe he has used his own hand to please himself in... Many years. But, as previously mentioned, even a man like him manages to settle down. Shanks, like Ace, would only manage with a lover who would be strong enough to impress his crew, that being said, if you want him to genuinely love you for anything besides your body, you have to play hard to get. (Was that term used correctly? It's 2 am)

He is a natural flirt, so charismatic it's scary. So when you reject his advances, he is very taken aback, and it fuels his sexual fantasies. He would burn through many of women, trying to get rid of this pure sexual frustration he feels every second you're near, and for a moment he was considering begging you to atleast let him see your naked body. But, after a month or two, he lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the smell of someone's body spray melted into his red hair, and he feels something other than lust for you. Actually, he was sure it was always there, but maybe he was too foolish to notice or see it.

Cue him asking you out, being absolutely overjoyed when he gets to call you his, wedding bells ringing in his head. (Though he is a pirate, and cannot have his marriage recognized legally)

You shortly realize he is more terribly perverse than he let on.

Shameless groping, dirty whispers, excessive nudity (though, if it was shanks, I'm sure nobody would mind👀) and lots and loootsss of advances. He is obviously willing to stop if you dislike such things, though.

Shanks never really saw himself loving someone outside of sex, but now that he is alive and loving, he just can't stop. But, of course, the pervert is itching to screw you, though he isn't purely thinking of sex, the thought pops up constantly and it makes the palm of his hand itch. He wants your first time to be special, but the longer he waits, the more he wants it, the more he dreams of it, the more he just can't help but stare at you when you straighten your back, following the curve of your spine down to your... He is very obviously staring.

During intercourse, Shanks prefers to top, but he's not a stone top by any means, he likes to switch maybe once a month, his all time favorite position? Prone bone. Watching you lay in bed on your stomach has him drooling, and he might as well be rabid because he absolutely will be plotting, asking you to stay that way while he straddles you, offering a seemingly innocent back massage... It was, in fact, not.

Benn Beckmann

Benn Beckmann is the man women and men alike dream about. He isn't a virgin, that's for sure.

I mean... He's an older man, he has quite a bit of experience, and I think, contrary to popular belief, he chases women a lot more than his captain. Beck is more often than not chatting up a pretty lady anytime the red-haired pirates dock at an island, a whole crew of whores, they are. I wouldn't be surprised if a few of the crew have screwed the same person before... Beck has a story about that involving Shanks and somebody else, and it may or may not have ended in a threesome, but that's simply what the rumors say.

He is one of the red-haired pirates, and he isn't completely devoid of sentiment or some oddly nonchalant guy, he has feelings, wants, and needs too, his mental health wouldn't keep up on the crew of partygoers if he was so uptight. Beck doesn't like to lust over people unless they show the same type of interest in him; don't get me wrong because he does find people attractive and he is not at all feeling guilty for eyeing a pretty piece of eye candy or even whistling at someone every once in a while, he doesn't want to imagine screwing every good looking person he sees is all.

He is a big man, he looks like he could snap somebody in half with a singular flex of his bicep, not to mention he's the first mate of an emperor of the sea; Beck is just as strong as Shanks, and as the red-haired pirates gain power and fame, he finds himself a little more pent up, though people flock to him so he doesn't complain much. Who doesn't want a man like him in their bed, anyways?

Though, he does please himself from time to time, of course. He opens the drawer of his desk full of magazines, takes his pick and gets straight to work, ensuring the door is locked. He's getting straight to the point, dropping his pants down to his ankles whilst leaning back in the chair he's in, closing his eyes to take in the moment. It isn't too frequent, and it's not a big deal if he can't find some time to himself, he knows somebody else will always make time for him, anyways.

Beck has a high libido, and has taken a liking to pretty ladies in particular, but that doesn't mean his taste involves one gender exclusively, of course, he's happy to take somebody to bed if they look good enough. Concerning romantic relationships, he doesn't really see any of that happening, his life is full of freedom and adventure, he's merely tied down to his crew and he prefers to keep it that way.

But... if he just so happened to develop romantic feelings for you, it would happen one of three ways. Maybe you two had a bit of a friends with benefits relationship, you being one of the red-haired pirates making it easier for you two to meet up for nightly trysts; Or maybe you happened to be a friend of Shanks, perhaps during his time on Rogers crew, maybe you were rivals, or maybe just plain old friends, a friend of his captains is a friend of his. Maybe he's fucking you nearly every day and night, and his feelings got a little out of hand one somewhere along the way... Either way, it was pretty easy for lust to turn into love and infatuation.

Beck was wary of welcoming you into his heart, but he did so, and he rushed over you like a heavy flood. He isn't acting like he was in heat, like his captain would with his significant other, he prefers to love you quietly, but of course his hand would slip lower down your back every once in a while and completely dwarf your ass as he groped you, holding his cigarette in his teeth as he exhaled the smoke from his mouth. He's definitely an ass man.

When it comes to thinking of having sex with you, he's a little nervous. He's respectful to all his hookups, and he is very confident in that aspect but he is absolutely ginormous and he doesn't wanna split you in two in the literal sense. It will hurt for sure, he knows that, you're gonna whine and cry out all night long, he knows that too, but he wants you, and he knows you want him, as your lover, he begins to discuss it with you as casually as he can, his voice smooth and maybe a little rough during the entire ordeal.

He makes his move after a sweet date, loving on you all night and kissing you all the way back to his bedroom, mostly because he hadn't taken anybody there before, and he wanted your first time with him to be special.

Monkey D. Luffy.

Luffy could not care less about nudity, and he cares even less about sex. In Alabasta, the only reason he even reacted to Nami flashing him was because Usopp was there, and Luffy really didn't mind seeing Hancock's naked body.

He has never considered jerking off a day in his life, nudity is just a part of life for him, you got your pants off? That's cool. Just for the fun of it, he's nude. Tits out? His are already out most of the time so it's no big deal. (You can tell I'm having fun with this.)

He's not sure he could fall in love, all he desires is freedom. His lover doesn't need strength, as long as they're kind and they share the same moral code as him, he's overjoyed! He probably will convince them to join his crew, despite being clueless on sex, he has a... Slight understanding of romance, he thinks.

After falling in love with you and feeling various different things with you, he very quickly realizes that he feels a different kind of heat in his body that isn't his rapidly beating heart or his stomach fluttering, which, could also be his stomach growling, but that's besides the point. He's clueless, when Dadan tried to give Ace, Sabo, and him "the talk" he was so grossed out he ran off, leaving Ace in the dust. So, all he knew was that he had a dick, and literally nothing else, so if you're afab, you have to explain stuff to him. When Luffy feels that heat creep into his skin, coursing through his veins, it all rushes to one place.

His shorts feel tight, to the point it's painful, and it's even worse when his eyes land on you. His stomach aches, well, he thinks it does, it feels weird, and that's all he knows. He actually ends up talking to Sanji, the expert in erotica... Or so he says. Now, he's got a pretty good grasp on his sexuality, and he wants to try having sex with you. He doesn't sugarcoat it, doesn't really plan something intricate, he'll walk up to you while you're doing whatever, and he's gonna blurt it out in that same casual tone he has when he says "I'm hungry" , and he might just embarrass you infront of his crew.

"Wanna have sex?" Oh boy, do you.

END.

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! ❤️

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Pay the Piper v. 1

mdni

Summary: If the Red Haired Pirates would kindly fuck off, it would make your job a lot easier.

Pay the Piper Master Post

Chapter warnings: language, implied threat of murder at sea

“They’re stealing our wind.”

The mass of sails grew in your spyglass. What the crew had whispered might be a Jolly Roger clearly wore Redhaired Shanks’ stripes over the left eye, and the Red Force’s dragon figurehead bared its teeth in your direction.

For fuck’s sake. It couldn’t just be any pirates. You had to run across a whole-ass Yonko.

Lowering the glass, you blinked, taking the moment as your vision adjusted to consider your options. Without the telescopic lenses, the puff of white gradually eating the horizon could almost be mistaken for a cloud. It looked so harmless and far away.

“Even if your ship was faster, captain, they’ve taken the advantage.” You held the spyglass out to the beef-brained Marine you’d been bullied into accompanying.

Grinding his teeth, he ignored you, lifting his binoculars to see the same vision of approaching doom.

Apparently he liked you even less when you were right. “We can’t outrun them like this.”

“What’re you gonna do?” he growled. “Sing ‘em to sleep?”

A few of his favorites tittered, anxiously holding onto fading hopes that their commanding officer knew what he was doing. Marines usually buried their heads in the sand, up to the waist if need be. To be fair, it was what most were trained to do, and it kept (some of) them sane as they climbed the ranks from Entirely Helpless to Relatively Hopeless.

Without the constraint of rank and oath, you were much more realistic. The Red Force was gaining, and the pirates would close the distance even faster now. Your hand drifted to the railing, thumbnail digging into the paint. Even with the wind, you couldn’t win a race with that monster of a ship. The Marine’s tub was old. Even the mild breeze that kept the sails from falling entirely slack brought shrieks from the aging masts, and despite the good weather, the hull groaned like an old man.

You dug deep, working a splinter out of the rail to ruin the smooth white finish.

Fuck old men and the ships that sounded like them.

“This isn’t my first time sailing around pirates I’m ill-equipped to fight. We’ll try a few tricks and play it by ear.”

“Tricks, huh?” The captain’s voice dripped derision – for your lack of strength, for your very presence, for all the rules you could slide under without entirely breaking.

But even if you weren’t in the pecking order, you weren’t above yanking on the invisible leash of command.

“If Vice-Admiral Garp thought brute strength and speed would do it, would he have bothered with me?”

The ship shuddered as the Marines unfurled another sail, hoping to catch even half a knot’s more speed.

The captain grunted and dropped his binoculars to his chest. “Do what you want.”

He didn’t even glance your way as he left, and you smiled at the “Justice” signature scrawled down his back, spyglass tapping against your thigh.

“Oh, I plan to.”

You kept time with the captain’s receding footsteps, wandering the quarter deck with an eye on the billowing cloth overhead, tracking the sun’s path behind it. It would be dark in another three hours. Give or take. Enough time to launch Plan B, and Plan B almost always worked. The pirates would have just enough light to recover the wager, and once the pirates had what they wanted, everyone could use the moonless night as an excuse to lose sight of each other.

Plan B had never been tested against a Yonko, though.

It relied on giving the pursuers what they wanted with the least amount of fuss. No risk. All reward. The only gamble was that the prey had even more loot on board, but few crews were all that interested beyond a good haul. Seas knew if a Yonko wanted the same thing as any other pirate.

Still. Worth a shot.

You wrote a letter, a reverse ransom of sorts, and set it on top of the glittering Berries in the small chest brought for just this situation. Self-funded, of course, because if the Marines couldn’t spring for a proper escort, they couldn’t dream of providing expensive countermeasures.

You kept the message simple.

Apologies for our trespass in your territory. We are not seeking a battle and sail on a humanitarian mission. Please accept this modest token as toll and tribute.

The Marine captain would not see the letter. As amusing as watching him turn a dozen shades of puce would be, you had a job and a will to live besides. Stroking one man’s ego while sparing the other’s might be the difference between ending the voyage in a port or a shark’s belly.

The chest went in a barrel packed with straw, and you attached a tall rod with a yellow flag. Not white. Because the Marines would have a conniption. And the Yonko may get the wrong idea. Yellow caught the eye and reflected what bounty lay inside, so it would work well enough.

With a deck full of men staring at you, you rolled the barrel to the side and heaved it over. It landed with a terrific splash, and even at your tub’s leisurely speed, the peace offering soon floated far behind. You watched to ensure it flipped the right way up, flag streaming over the water with the demanding poise of a News Coo.

Half an hour. You watched the barrel sway and bob, picked out new details of the Red Force as it closed in, and kept time with your foot where you sat on the rail. The hiss of spray, the song of old wood flexing under its own weight, and the work of a dozen trained men boiled into something you could pick a tune through. Minutes dripped orange into the sinking sun, and you hovered in the rhythm of it all, caught in the song’s sway.

At last, your pursuers reached the barrel.

You kept your spyglass to your eye as grappling lines flew from the deck, hooking the prize and hefting it up, up, up to the deck. They’d drawn close enough that you could make out vague figures, but no faces, and you had a shit angle, besides. Once the barrel was aboard, you lost sight of it. The next move was theirs, but you’d prefer knowing what it was sooner rather than later. Any little move could tip you off. A reaction. Laughter. Signs of discord. Anything.

The Red Force didn’t lower any sails or shift course, but you’d doubted they would until dark. Nothing else seemed to change, and you swore under your breath.

More waiting then.

Dawn would reveal how screwed you were.

Just as you prepared to give up your watch and hunt down dinner, a glint near the pirate ship’s prow snared your attention.

You weren’t the only one watching.

For a beat, it wasn’t a game of survival between ships. It was you and a stranger linked by line of sight. You felt marked. Noted. Like if you spoke, the other would hear you. You’d begun a correspondence, and the reply glimmered back, intangible and compelling as a ghost.

You pulled away from the connection, lowering the glass, going below decks, and trying to shake the feeling of the pirate’s eye.

“Douse the lights at twilight,” you told the captain. “With luck we’ll lose them in the dark.”

“Already planning to.”

“Sure.”

_____________________

Morning came.

You rose before dawn, leaning on the rail with a cup of coffee to greet your fate. Even before the sun’s disk broke the horizon, you saw the Red Force in the pre-dawn gloom. You didn’t raise an alarm. No need. The warship hadn’t gone dark, and the men on watch must’ve seen the inevitable truth swimming along in their wake all night.

Poor things.

The coffee wasn’t terrible. Since you wouldn’t have time for a proper breakfast, you drank it down slowly, savoring the fresh air and spinning out next steps.

The captain likely wouldn’t listen to you after this failure, and that really was a concern. But the Red-Haired Pirates had such a mixed reputation – if the captain hadn’t insisted on flying the Marine colors, your hunters might’ve eased off. This ship really wasn’t a great prize in any traditional sense, and no rare wonders sat in crates below deck. But you made such a sad little target with your shitty boat and your scant crew that you must’ve sparked some curiosity.

The last of your morning brew hid a mouthful of grounds, and you nearly gagged forcing it down. At least there was something solid in your stomach now.

Rosy light flushed the world red and gold. The fanged face of the pirates’ ship was close enough you didn’t need the spyglass to make it out anymore. It looked hungry. You’d have to feed it some answers.

How much could you reveal without giving the game away? Finding the sweet spot between enough of the truth to bore someone and so much of the truth they took interest always frustrated you, and the stakes had never been this high.

“They didn’t go for your trick.”

The captain, binoculars up, appeared beside you. Even in a life-or-death situation, apparently you were only worth half his attention.

“They didn’t.”

Since he clearly didn’t care much about manners, you left the conversation at that and started crafting your back-up peace offering. No pre-packaged loot this time. You made the rounds with an empty box, asking for anything of value the Marines cherished less than their lives. Most sniffed in disdain (and poverty). A few shakily removed wedding bands, fetched little heirlooms from their lockers, and dropped in their scant wages.

You took the little hoard back to the workspace you’d stolen for yourself below deck and penned another letter.

Please fuck off.

The coffee burned in your gut, threatening to return as you considered your own sacrifice for the tithe. It was a gamble. One you didn’t want to make either way, but it might work. It wasn’t the sort of token someone would surrender lightly. And it might underline your point that there was nothing of value left.

If, on the other hand, this was purely about the fact that Marines dared sail through a Yonko’s territory… well, you’d all be dead, and it wouldn’t matter how much your heart bled to give up the thing, would it?

You pulled the pendant from around your neck and immediately missed its weight. Your shoulders were too light to hold down breath, and you chewed the inside of your cheek to banish the burning in your nose.

When had you last taken it off? To clean it, maybe, a few months ago? You hadn’t suffocated without it then. You'd live now.

But –

Two things mattered more to you than anything else in the whole world, and here you were, giving one up without a fight.

You allowed yourself a minute to look at the smooth stone and delicate silver, rubbing your thumb over the little masterpiece like you could press it into your skin. Keep it. Memorize it or absorb it or anything except –

You put it in the box.

A little cadet helped you find another barrel, and together you put together another flag to ensure your suffering wasn’t all for nothing.

Over the side and into the sea, the barrel rode the wake of your sad little tub until it was close enough for the pirate crew to snatch with hook and line. This time, you only had to wait ten minutes.

You were ready with the spyglass.

A figure approached the prow, and as he came out of the sails’ shade, you spotted the telltale hair. Red Haired Shanks lifted his own spyglass, looking straight back at you with your pendant glittering in his hand.

You snapped the glass from your eye and – confident he could see you – made a grand and exaggerated shooing motion. Ushering him away like a persistent gull.

Shoo.

Fuck off.

Please.

If his sense of humor was anything like you’d heard, maybe he’d spare you for the laugh.

But when you peered through the glass to see if he had an answer, you could’ve sworn he was laughing.

Laughing and shaking his head.

[joaosnovia]

jealous kenan about his teammates finding you attractive and his rival team so he’s not playing good until the last bit and when reader comes down to the pitch she just gives her a hungry kiss to show everybody she’s takin

❦ - the love of italia.

summary:: kenan finding out that almost the whole of italy put him off his game by a lot, eventually motivating him to do better.

warnings:: none

writers note:: thing is, i wrote this as soon as i got the req (ages ago) before ramadan thinking that i’d be able to post it before then but life had other plans so khalas, the haram police can’t catch me because i wrote this BEFORE ramadan.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan yildiz was not having a good game.

it wasn’t because he was out of form, or tired, or struggling tactically. no, kenan was playing like shit because his mind was elsewhere. specifically, on you.

it had started before kickoff. you’d come to support him, looking effortlessly good in one of his old juventus hoodies, the sleeves hanging past your fingers, your hair falling just right. that alone would’ve been enough to distract him, but what really set him off was the way his teammates, and worse, the opposing team, had noticed.

‘so that’s your girl, huh?’ one of his teammates had asked in the locker room, nodding toward where you were chatting with some staff near the stands. ‘damn. didn’t know you were pulling like that.’

kenan had just given him a look.

then, during warmups, he caught some of the other team’s players also looking. one even had the audacity to say something to him as they passed.

‘number 10’s playing for more than just three points today, huh?’

kenan clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

from that moment on, he was done for.

it was obvious from the first whistle, kenan was off.

his passes were sloppy. his first touch was heavier than usual. he missed chances he’d normally bury without thinking. and every time someone from the rival team got near him, talking just enough shit for the ref not to hear, his blood boiled a little more.

‘what’s up with yildiz today?’ the commentators were already talking about it.

his coach was yelling from the sidelines. his teammates were trying to snap him out of it. but nothing worked. because every time he looked up, there you were, beautiful, perfect, and completely oblivious to the chaos happening in his head.

it wasn’t until the last few minutes of the game that something finally clicked.

it was still 0-0. they had one last attack. the ball came to kenan’s feet, and for the first time all game, his frustration sharpened into something useful.

he drove forward, weaving past defenders like they weren’t even there. everything else faded. the noise, the tension, the trash talk, it didn’t matter. all that mattered was getting this goal.

and he did.

a clean strike. bottom corner. unstoppable.

the stadium erupted. his teammates surrounded him, yelling, pulling him into hugs. but kenan barely reacted. his celebration was already planned.

his eyes went straight to you.

the second the final whistle blew, you made your way down to the pitch. you weren’t even thinking, you just knew you had to get to him.

by the time you reached the field, kenan was already waiting. his jersey was damp with sweat, his breathing still heavy, but his eyes were locked onto you like you were the only person in the world.

‘kenan, that goal—’

you didn’t get to finish. because the moment you were close enough, he grabbed you. one hand firm on your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck. and then he kissed you.

not just any kiss, a statement.

it was possessive, like he wanted to make sure every single person watching, his teammates, his rivals, the entire damn stadium, knew exactly who you belonged to.

you barely registered the cheers (and teasing whistles) from his teammates. all you could focus on was kenan, his body pressed against yours, the way his fingers dug into your waist.

when he finally pulled back, his expression unreadable.

‘you’re mine,’ he muttered, voice low enough for only you to hear.

your breath caught. but before you could even think of a response, he smirked, like he already knew the answer. like he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

and honestly? he was right.

[starkwlkr]

Hi Jen!!!❤️❤️❤️

I saw your requests were open so possibly, social media au or not, Cillian Murphy’s or Christopher Nolan’s daughter (either one would be fine, but I saw your imagine about Nolan!reader x Cillian so maybe Cillian would be better, either one is fine though) dating Charles Leclerc or lando Norris

(I don’t know if this has been done yet but it feels very random, but it I saw you wrote for F1 and Cillian so I just thought of that crossover. Couldn’t decide which driver I wanted to request for so I’ll leave it up to you between Charles and lando)

But if you do, then thank you!!!

my favorite nepo baby | lando norris

faceclaim saorsie ronan (don’t hate me, yes ik there’s more irish actresses but i love saoirse) also i love this request, mixing random fandoms is my favorite thing ever

liked by maxverstappen1, ynfans and 56,377 others

danielricciardo happy birthday, lady bird

mclarentears WHAT

dannyric333 does daniel know everyone??

bottaszz you don’t understand THIS IS IMPORTANT TO ME

landonorris my favorite nepo baby

danielricciardo the nepo baby says thank you

landonorris tell the nepo baby to make an account

danielricciardo no - the nepo baby

landonorris i tried

vettelsbees this is my roman empire

view all 23,477 comments

summer break

Y/n Murphy only knew Daniel Ricciardo because he had friends everywhere. It was only a matter of time before the Irish actress met the famous honey badger. Soon, his friends became her friends and the whole friend group was hanging out everywhere.

One of their hang out spots was the F1 paddock. Daniel insisted for Y/n to come to his favorite race, the Austin Grand Prix. It was no secret that Daniel is secretly a Texan so he wanted his new friend to experience the Texas atmosphere.

“We need to get you some boots and maybe a longhorns jersey. You’ll look so cool, trust me.” Daniel said as him, Heidi and Y/n walked into the AlphaTauri garage.

“He’s going to convert you into a Texan.” Heidi whispered to Y/n.

“Can you imagine me going home to my father speaking with a texas accent? He’ll have a stroke!” Y/n laughed.

“I bet that by the end of the day, you’ll love texas as much as I do.” Daniel smirked. “Maybe you’ll find a country boy you can take home to your old man.”

“Oh god, he’s going to have more strokes, die then come back and have more strokes.”

“Well then I can get you a British boy that won’t make your old man die.”

Y/n knew who Daniel was referring to. On the day of her birthday, which was a few days ago, Daniel showed her the comments that Lando had left on his post.

‘my favorite nepo baby’

While she told everyone she didn’t have an Instagram account, she had a secret one that only had about twenty followers which were close family and friends. She used that account to look at Lando’s account. She was going to lie, he was attractive.

“Just make an instagram! That boy keeps messaging me about you.” Daniel pleaded.

“I don’t use social media, I tried and I didn’t like it.” What a lie.

“Okay well can you at least talk to him? Wait, I should go with you, he might be the one having a stroke.”

So while Heidi stayed back in the garage, Daniel accompanied Y/n to the Mclaren garage so Lando could finally meet his favorite nepo baby. Y/n started to feel nervous, why? She didn’t know, she hardly knew Lando apart from his instagram posts.

“Hey Landoooooo!” Daniel dragged out the o.

“Is that Daniel Ric—” Lando’s voice stopped when he noticed who was standing beside Daniel.

“Is he having a stroke? I can’t tell.” Daniel whispered to Y/n.

“Hi . . . You’re y/n. Wow.” Lando tried to play it cool. “I’m Lando, but I’m guessing you already knew that because of the giant Australian yelling my name. Thank you Daniel.”

“Glad I could be of service. I have to go get ready, but you two go ahead and talk. Y/n, I’ve been told the Mclaren garage is the best spot to watch a race so . . bye!”

And all thanks to Daniel Ricciardo and his match making skills, your dad, Cillian, didn’t have a stroke when he finally met Lando.

[birdburrito]

I have been a huge Harry Potter Fan in my Childhood. Harry Potter was the first book i enjoyed reading. I won a reading contest in my school witha part of the first Harry Potter book. I wanted to become an author in fourth grade because of the books. I wrote my own fantasy story based on the books and i loved pottermore when it first came out. I can emphasize with the Harry Potter Fans who dont want to let go of the series because it means so much to them like it meant so much to me as a child. Often in online debates people get very defensive. Short snappy comments are better for the algorithms and its easier to hate people who still like Harry Potter despite knowing what J K Rowling political stance is on many issues. But I believe you cant convince anyone by just attacking them so here are some general thoughts from me on losing something you used to really really like. Im german and in Germany we have some very old children stories called Struwwelpeter. They seem very cruel to modern readers. A boy for example gets his thumbs cut off because he keeps sucking them. As a child these stories were very disturbing to me. Later i learnt that this story for example was written in a time where children often would die because they would get diseases from sucking there thumbs. Medicine was not evolved enough to save these children and the concept to keep children save by scaring them seemed like a good idea. The fairytales, a lot of people only know the disney version of, many of them also have a more cruel ending for similar reasons. Why am I bringing this up? Context matters to a story. Harry Potter wasnt a perfect story that got ruined by Rowlings tweets in the last few years there are many bigoted ideas in Harry Potter from the beginning. Also just because you liked something as a child it doesnt mean it was very good media. Lets talk about behaviour therapy shall we. The whole idea of behaviour therapy is that you can become a happier person if you change your behaviour (very simplified). The process of that however means a lot of times, that first you are going to be struggling or unhappier then before. Change is never comfortable. Humans love to stay in there behaviour patterns they know and new things are scary. But in the end behaviour therapy does work! If you get over your discomfort you will develop healthier coping mechanisms for example and you will get better. Now back to Harry Potter. Yes it is uncomfortable and sad to admit something you love isnt as good as you thought it was. Yes it can also feel embarassing to admit you were wrong. But to change is to grow. It might sound over dramatic talking about a children book series like this, but giving J K Rowling more money does cause real harm for people (especially trans people) in the real world. Also my concern is if you cant let go of a book you really like how far will it go? What about a person you admired that turns out to be bad for you? What about a political party? Its not nice to be wrong but its something we all have to learn to live with and its ok. You will be fine. This post is specifically about harry potter fans that are not transphobic, terfs or agree in any other way with Rowlings political views ofc Here are some youtube videos about things being wrong in the original Harry Potter series:

(you can also search harry potter bad on youtube for many many more videos)

[skull-fvcker]

Morality

❥ Yandere! Arcane Viktor x Gender Neutral! Reader

A/N: cross-posted from my ao3. Old fanfiction from 2021, written way before season two. Thought I might as well post it here—the final episode broke me, by the way.

Summary: Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition. Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

Warnings: 7204 words, MDNI, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, viktor is delusional, yandere viktor by the way, dubious consent(he coerces you), unhealthy and one-sided relationship, gender-neutral pronouns used for reader, no usage of y/n, gentle sex, set in season 1

In all honesty, Viktor did not know how it started or when it got out of hand. It started as a simple fascination and he had treated it as such. Nothing was wrong with that, he was a man of science after all. It was in his nature to feel drawn to things that he did not quite understand. Many years have passed since that day. Before his strange obsession came into his life. Honestly, now that he was alone to think about it, had it ever come into his life at all? Or, by some force of nature, he had forced it into his own life? The ever-changing flow of time halted the very moment Viktor had initially realised that he had more than a problem on his hands.

Viktor thought of himself as a man with morals. He was not the best person, yes, there are plenty of others that shone brighter than he did, but he found his value in his work and ethics. That being said, nothing about him was right. His work had been clogged for year's now; the chaotic office space merely setting as a permanent indication that he had slipped too far this time. Above all else, he had guaranteed himself that his work came foremost, give or take a few instances in which it did not. This case was different, however. A disturbing accomplishment that, when asked initially, he wrote off his findings as evidence, or even lack thereof. Whether or not he was believed, was foreign to even him.

Directly adjacent to his cluttered working place—being neat had long passed his troubled brain, hadn't it?— lie his crutch, sat in such a way that it may fall at any minute. Viktor paid it no mind, at least not at first, but looking over his notes and the observations that he had written down, an idea popped up within what was left of a comprehensive state of mind. Of course, how could he have been so oblivious to forget such a thing, it was written clear as day in these scattered notes. His nimble, cold fingers grasped at the end of his crutch and he tugged it over and dug it into the floor while it enabled him to stand.

Viktor's book laid sloppily in his hand, page open in clear view. "Yes," he breathed, "I suppose this will do." He closed the withered book and shoved it between his left arm and clothed side. Periodically, an opportunity was difficult to come by. He had to do the best with what he had been given, though an itch in his brain told him that: why settle for fine, when you can go beyond?

The aforementioned person that he mentioned, the obsession - the two had never even met before, Hell, Viktor was certain it never even knew of his existence. It was ostensibly a normal upper city citizen with no strange qualities, nothing special about its behaviours nor its personality. It was normal. But it made him feel bizarre inside. He could effortlessly correlate it to that of an over-easy egg slowly cooking within a skillet until the yoke bursts for seemingly no reason and tarnishes the taste of the egg entirely. Just like that, it was ruining him. Granted, neither of them seemed to be eggs, but he believed the metaphor to fit rather well. Humanity always seemed to be so fickle, so easily swayed and broken. Just like an egg.

No matter the weakened disposition he had, nor the lingering scent of death he had become accustomed to, nothing prepared Viktor for the way his certain obsession made him feel. He was intelligent enough to not let these be known, oh, how he would hate the way that Jayce would assume the worst of his sentiments. Would he? Jayce had changed rather strikingly since the first day the two had met. Nevertheless, Viktor never seemed to be the man for love, much less protection of those around him.

Moreover, he was sure that with such dehumanising language and behaviour, nobody would hear his side of the matter. After all, calling the object of your affection an "it," and "thing," definitely does not look good for your compassion. Still, it gave him a reason to humanise his behaviour—if his obsession is not seen as equal, then what's the issue, exactly? To be blunt, it served no purpose other than to make him feel better since not a soul knew of this but him.

Sure, it did not occur to him that he would have strayed this far, but sometimes you have to do what you can to keep someone safe. He was in no state to protect someone on his own, he knew this far too well, he could never protect anyone with this sickly, frail body of his. That is why kidnapping was an absolute must. Reminiscing of the past did no good but to open up older wounds that set themselves up for failure, but the first day they had formally met was an exhilarating experience.

When they had seen him, there was a quizzical expression plastered on their face, and they even confused him for a council member of all things—never attentive, he presumed—but upon realising who he was, Viktor found himself met with immediate scepticism. Viktor could not fault them, it was something he knew all too well, though, maybe he should have saved his anguish for another day. The way their warmer hand held onto his own when he reached out to shake it. Their hand was soft, softer than his at least, and much less calloused. Smaller. Yet, their fingers did not hold the appearance of his own; on the contrary, they looked healthy. Healthier than him.

Of course, with someone who seemed to not have any imperfection, how was Viktor not supposed to fall for them, much less become intrigued with their very existence at that point? Humans were so fickle, he knew very well with how his body had grown to become sicker, but they seemed so robust, so self-sufficient. It was just like any other person, nothing too special but it stood out to him and that was what mattered.

It hurt him, really it did, to see them gawk at him with betrayal, to seem so frightened of someone who wasn't even strong, to begin with, but love came with sacrifice and even if he couldn't help everyone, then he would try to help them the best that he could.

Viktor revolted and fought against his rationality, he really did, he tried his absolute best to make sense of both his actions and what he had done. Within the months, he had thoroughly convinced himself that it was for the greater good, for the safety of his obsession; to keep them isolated from others. It was not the healthiest choice, he would acknowledge at the time, but now he may argue that it was the only thing he could have done upon meeting them formally. He just could not let them go.

Months had passed since that day, but it was fun to reminisce sometimes. Besides, it was even better that, when he had the time, they were someone in which he could spoil with every day. Yes, Viktor took things slow and always was sure to leave them be, yet give them company, but watching them stare at him with a look that he could hardly even decipher anymore, left him breathless. And he didn't even know why.

That very thing forced him into the very dilemma that he is in now. Standing in front of a locked door with a flawlessly crafted key lying in his tremoring hand. It was from excitement, he knew it was. It was like this was his own secret sanctuary where he hid his most precious desire and treasure, his perfect obsession that wept behind locked doors. It was the same every day, no matter how long he would stare.

The door opened with a slight rasp, the only other noise being a stifled sob and the sound of scuffing against the floor, then the buoyancy of bedsprings. His stiff body staggered against the sturdy cane, his hunched over body barely allowing the light to pool in around the walls of the door frame. Every day seemed no closer to his objective. He didn't even know how he had done this. Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition.

Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

"Good morning, dear. Have you slept well?" The sounds of chains screamed in his ears when he spoke. All these years and his lover still has not gotten used to their living state. "Ehh... I have already assured you. Good behaviour is rewarded, please understand that this is an absolute must to keep you safe." They were terrified. Of him. Isolation was a punishment and he could never help but feel dreadful about them being punished for things out of their control.

"When can I go home?" was the concern they always pleaded with whenever they saw him. Viktor tried to not let it get under his skin, really he did, but the knowledge that they did not want to be with him weighed heavy on his mind. He loved them, they had to recognize. Their eyes were so passive; it reminded him of when he had first seen the mutation, Rio, when he was a young boy. Curiosity, distress; panic. They just did not understand this yet.

Perhaps all the days that he merely sat there and stared at them with a desolate expression thoroughly destroyed the way they would perceive him, or how he would blatantly ignore their tantrums and screaming, tapping his fingers along the edge of his crutch like a patient father waiting for their child to calm down. Of course, Viktor never mistreated them. The most he did was further isolate them, which explained the absolutely pitiful state that they were in right now.

Reluctance to accept the changing future will result in the fear of what's to come. He understands it's different from what they were used to. But one must adapt to their surroundings and become accustomed. Viktor has already sacrificed so much for them; when was it their turn to return the favour? The ever-changing future is something he will never know for certain.

Viktor sighed, watching them press their body against the nook of the room where their bed had been so delicately placed. The bedsheets had been sent into a state of disrepair, and certain pillows seemed more shapely than the rest. From clutching them too tightly, he inferred. It was adorable.

"This is your home," It was no wonder that they attempted to squeeze themselves farther against the wall when he staggered closer. "I don't have any food this time, I'm afraid," he stood right at the side of their mattress, directly in front of trembling form, his eyes fixated on the plate that sat adjacent to the bed, at least a few days old now. "Though, I'm glad that you, ehm, were able to finish your last meal. Good job." A sigh escaped him after the carefully placed praise fell from his lips and, upon staring hastily at them, he recalled the fear blending within their wide eyes. "However," he found himself fumbling over his words, "I know that you've been a little, eh... downcast, as of late so I have decided that I am going to offer you something that I'm sure you would love," he paused, almost reluctant to reach forward and stroke the hair behind their ear. Hesitant to touch them lovingly.

This situation was a troublesome one, of course, it would be, but he was not a fool in the matter. He read up on numerous articles simply so he can keep things safe for them — falling for one's captor, he had thought about it, yet the turmoil often sets in when he realises that they hadn't developed such a thing just yet. Had he not been too kind? Perhaps, it was the chains around their body? Particular disorders of the mind were so hard to force into existence; was that such a terrible thing to wish for? They looked as if they served more as a pet than anything else, honestly. But that's love, this is just his love. Viktor was well aware that a plethora of things regarding both he and his health weren't precisely right, particularly in concerns to other people. Honestly, staring at them in such a miserable state made him feel almost remorseful.

They must feel so trapped, not to mention secluded, after all, he was never able to spend as much time with them as he would have preferred. He wondered, did they feel imprisoned in their own body, too? Probably not in the way that he did, but it was a suspicion that lingered in his mind. He set his hand on the side of their face unexpectedly, and they jolted back. Granted, he was certain that his hand was freezing. But, Hell, it appeared as if they had almost whimpered at his touch. Still, he had never done anything to harm them, he's only keeping them safe. The images of the mutation Rio sitting in a tank of fluids that he knew all too well now, the thought of it being kept alive despite its pleas not to. Such lengths are just an experiment to preserve life. He understood, now. Not in the way that he should have, but he did.

Maybe that was how they felt. Like a trapped animal, frightened and alone. But they have him, they may not want him, but he is there.

Viktor's knees buckled as they pressed against the edge of the mattress, gently hoisting one after the other to get closer to the horrified individual hiding from his affection, which was already something which he never exhibited frequently.

"I want you to understand," he ran his thumb along their cheek with feathery soft touches, "I know you still don't understand why I'm doing this, or why you're here but rest assured that it's all out of genuine love." When you're going to change the world, don't ask for permission. "Alone. You're lonely and you're scared. I know how you feel. But you're special," their eyes met Viktor's for but an instant and it sent shock waves down his spine. Don't ask permission. "You're special to me, and that is what truly matters at this moment." They were about to cry. Correction, they were sobbing. And it was all his fault. Emotional turmoil mixed with the trauma enforced within them made this happen - because of Viktor.

And despite it all, Viktor could not help but feel proud of his accomplishments.

"Please," their name rolled off of his tongue like a loose screw in his brain, though more akin to a prayer. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, please." Their disobedience irritated him and sent his nostrils flaring, but he didn't allow that to show outwardly. They were already so skittish, why would he threaten them further? "Mm, I will reiterate it as many times as you desire: good behaviour is rewarded. If... If you're good—for me—then, and only then, will I allow you to go outside." His words set off a fire in their brain, he could tell how their breathing unexpectedly halted and they went completely tight-lipped. Was that all it took for them to settle down? An effortlessly broken promise?

Right, they were at their wit's end, weren't they? Their emotions override their rationality. The sunlight would be good for their health, after all. Quite frankly, the thought was unsettling, Viktor didn't want them out of his sight, but if it would make them satisfied then he could make configurations for such a thing. Though, he would have to be cautious to not allow anyone to see them. What if they tried to... escape, in a sense? It was dangerous, he would have to think about it thoroughly.

"Do you mean it?" They said, suddenly. Their head was raised aloft and their wide eyes stared directly at him. "If I'm good... I'll be able to go outside? It's—" A sharp inhale. "It's been months," they were optimistic. Why was it so unbearable to see them so miserable?

For all but a juncture, Viktor felt himself at a loss for words. There was no telling whether or not he would be able to keep that promise, but he could try. They just need to learn to embrace change and adapt, maybe they will forget about it in due time. "I mean it," he said without thought, "you have my word." Did they, truly? You should not make promises that you are incapable of keeping, but just this once, the way their expression lit up and how the tears fell from their eyes, made Viktor feel as if he had done something right this entire time. Without a single word, his hand slowly lowered from their warm cheek, his gangly fingers running alongside the edges of the collar that adorned their flawless neck.

In pursuit of great, we failed to do good.

How would Viktor feel if someone had done this to him? It was a rhetorical question; nobody cared for him enough to go to such drastic lengths to proclaim their love. Therefore, this couldn't have been an unfair thing for him to do. "We must adapt to change," he spoke softly as his fingers danced around their trembling jaw. "You must adapt to change." His voice dropped an octave, gaze falling back onto their face. He had adapted to this change flawlessly fine, it was them that had to figure out how to. They were ultimate perfection in his eyes—there was just one, little issue...

"What are you doing?" Their voice quivered. Viktor's hand slipped down to their collarbones, pinching against the soft fleshy prison.

"Ahm, eh, I am... feeling you, merely. Nothing more," their breath hitched at his actions. "Unless you want me to do more?" An unexpected whimper came from them, in which he did not know if it was good or not, but knowing them, it emanated from apprehension. "I love you, you know that. I would never force you to do something. Think of it as a friendly suggestion," Viktor's blunt fingernails found themselves becoming caught on the neckline of their shirt. "So, will you let me?" There was a pause between them. Most importantly, the air seemed to grow still. Tension so thick that you could slice it in half with a knife.

They shifted but didn't give Viktor a clear yes or no. In all honesty, they seemed to be dismissing him altogether. He could feel their body heat begin to amplify, a telltale indication of both their embarrassment and if he dares say desire. A relatively foolish notion, he was well aware, however, that did not mean anything in his mind, not in the current time. The future could come later, and his life may pass him by. But the future does not exist, does it? Not until you make it so. If he didn't take satisfaction in the opportunity that he had right now, then it may never come up again.

Nevertheless, he took the chance and leaned forward, inch by inch until his face had pressed into what was seen within the crook of their neck. Their skin was soft, warm; pulsating. "I am obsessed with you," both of his hands set themselves upon their shoulders, thumbs clutching against the blade of their clavicles. "I am, truly. My devotion, my love, my obsession for you—that will be the only thing that will never change no matter the year to come. You may push me away all that you desire, but I will come back to you. I love you." His chapped lips pressed in between their jawline and neck, a chaste kiss that he allowed to linger on their skin. They didn't even bother pushing him away. They had the strength to, yet abstained.

We failed to do good.

"Understand my efforts," his voice was barely above a whisper, "you must have seen them. Make sense of my love for you." His grip on their shoulders tightened, but he knew it would never be enough to harm them. It wasn't as if he wanted to injure them in the first place, either. However, it was short-lived, and Viktor's hands fell from their shoulders to their bound wrists, and straight down to their tremoring hands. "I have always wanted to do more with you—to be what most would consider a "couple" yet you keep pushing me away." During his rambling, Viktor heard them mumble something under their breath. "Could you repeat that?"

"I said I'm sorry," they whispered. For the first time, it seemed that they were apologising to him so sincerely, maybe with actual suspicions that something may transpire if they were to not apologise. It was startling, but a chance to hear their voice was satisfactory for Viktor. There was a lingering breath that he could feel tickle the back of his neck, coupled together with their heaving chest. They were scared.

We have to make it right.

Viktor felt his heart hammer against his rib cage, a knot forming in his throat bitterly. This clammy feeling in his chest was unneeded. "Well," he spoke with a sharp exhale, "do you know what would make me forgive you?" As if he hadn't already forgiven them, to begin with. Upon feeling them nod slowly, Viktor pulled away from them and hurried his hands from their own, to their neck. His touches were faint, but loving. Held a certain edge to them, hinted at with a distinct emotion. "I'm very sure you're aware of what I'm getting at," his breathing picked up, just as theirs did, and for a few instants, it seemed that theirs was in sync with his own. To his surprise, they shifted and nodded in agreement, but did not vocalise it.

Anxiously, Viktor proceeded to slowly creep his body forward, even closer to them than he was before. He felt his heart thumping against his rib cage, the wind being knocked from his lungs as he shakily exhaled. Viktor was not the type of man for sex, he never had the time to do it; but when it came to his little obsession, why not indulge? Their consent was dubious at best, but at this point, any hint of acceptance was promising enough for him. He struggled to rationalise his thinking but instead was only met with a cluttered mess within his brain. Viktor couldn't concentrate on anything other than them at this moment. It was just the two of them, and that was all that truly carried weight to him.

His kisses against their skin were light, virtually non-existent, but the genuine love that he harboured for them persisted despite their shuddering breathing; despite their apprehension. Viktor's lips pressed against their tender jawline until he finally met the edges of their lips. His hands were twitching, cupping the sides of their face with his thumbs caressing the skin underneath their eyes. This would be their first kiss together. Would they reciprocate it? He sure hopes that they would in some way, they don't seem to have any reasoning as to why they wouldn't. He pulled back momentarily to stare at them, only to notice that they weren't looking at him at all. That would be okay.

"You're mine," he breathed as he pressed his lips against their own once again. Viktor felt as if his chapped, thin lips were being engulfed by theirs—though, theirs were equally as chapped as he were. He made a mental note to up their water intake. The kiss did not quite feel the way that he visualized it to feel—he thought it would have felt more romantic in a sense. Moreover, he would have believed that they wouldn't be chained to the wall in such an intimate instant. But, good behaviour is rewarded. This was temporary, they knew that, as did he. Just as the kiss was about to end, he felt them lean into it and press their lips into his own. That, above everything else, made him feel like the blessedest man in all of Piltover. Of Zaun, anywhere.

"I love you more than anything," confessed Viktor as he pulled away from their lips. "I'm glad that you're mine." And he meant it.

Their breath hitched just as it constantly did when he touched them. Maybe it was the fact that his hands were gradually examining their body, tilting across every crevice, from where their midsection concave whenever they'd instinctively suck it in out of humiliation, to the quiver of the skin around their navel when his fingers ran along the sensitive region. Viktor's hands were underneath their shirt, his wiry fingers eagerly squeezing the skin. They squeaked at first, his hands were frigid after all but eventually unwound though not peeking at him. Viktor wished that they would look at him like a person rather than an oddity.

The hem of their trousers huddled against their hips, hiding away the most intimate part of their body that only Viktor was allowed to see. For a moment, he looked into their eyes for the right to go ahead, but upon being avoided, Viktor merely yanked them down with enthusiasm pulsing through his veins. His thumbs pressed between their navel and hipbones, in an almost comforting gesture. But it wasn't as if they cared in the long run, however, he could hear their hitching breath. Through dirty-minded thoughts, Viktor's right hand loomed above their sex while his other clasped against their hipbone for support. He was actually doing this—something that he had just as much as dreamed of for years.

"Please," their whiny voice startled his thoughts. "Just... be gentle with me," they didn't seem to be in the mood to fight him at all. That's good. Viktor was sure he had neither the strength nor the energy to deal with it.

His thumb pressed against the sensitive nub below, threatening a gasp from them. "I'll never hurt you," he rubbed their hip in synchronisation with his sensual touches against their sex. "I promise, I will do what I can to make you feel pleasured." His breathing picked up as arousal trickled down his spine like that of the emotions that he loathed. "I want... to see the inside of you. All of you," he spoke aloud, a hint of longing in his tone which he had shoved back this entire time. He wanted them to comprehend his love to its full potential.

Viktor's face pressed against the crook of their neck once again, shifting his hips as he closed his eyes. They were making noises, now, their chained wrists clicking against the harsh metals as they lifted their hands to dig into his back. Secretly, he had hoped that they would call his name. He knew that they knew it. They've spoken it countless times before. Granted, it was always in a fit of rage or hysteria which followed, "I hate you," and, "You ruined my life." But they knew his name at the very least.

Moreover, they were unravelling at the seams. They liked this just as much as Viktor did. They loved him, they had to. Lust and love were on a thin line, so closely drawn together yet had such distinct differences. Could the same be said about obsession? Maybe so, but that did not mean much by this point.

"I love you," he breathed into their neck, his warm breath no doubt sending shivers down his spine or so he hoped. "You feel so soft, so pretty..." His fingers toyed with their sex, jerking in sporadic movements which caused their hips to buck against him, further spurring him on. "Do you like it when I touch you like this? Like I—" his breath hitched when their hands clenched the fabric of his vest, "Like I own you?" For once, they actually agreed with him.

"Y-yes," they let out a pitiful, rueful whine more akin to someone who was used to this sort of thing. But that was inane. They belonged to him. "It feels—It feels really good, I..." Their hips were rolling now, eagerly trying to accept his love rather than pushing it away like they always had been. They were accepting change. They were adapting. "Jus—just like that, please, Viktor—"

And at that moment, time seemed to halt.

They said his name, not out of pure spite or anger, not from him doing something they did not like, but in pleasure. The pleasure that he was inflicting on them. "You're doing such a good job, So good for me," it came out as more of a wheeze than praise, though there was a hint of worship hidden within it. "Are you going to come soon? I want you to come undone because of me. I love you," his lips returned their place at their neck, his crooked teeth nibbling onto their soft skin, further forcing out a reaction from them. Just from their responses and noises alone, Viktor felt as if he was going to come any second now instead, and he hadn't even touched himself. All he could feel was his dick beginning to strain against his dress pants.

It was getting so hot and stuffy, surely he should take off his vest and dress shirt soon. The things that they did to him were things that he didn't even expect. The love he harboured, the desire he held—they were his weak spot. This precious creature. Viktor felt his breathing pick up as he pulled his teeth away from their neck, their delicate skin caught between his incisors.

Once more, slowly, his fingers gently danced around their sex, forcing himself to concentrate and try to block out the absolutely lovely noises that they were emitting. The noises, be as they may, were provided to him involuntarily, he attempting to reject the wail of pleasure that came from them. The squelchy sound of their fluid pooling around his fingers met his ears, giving a sick taste of satisfaction. His left hand clenched their skin a little too tightly for even his standards, the wiry fingers of his right hand working against him, deliberately circulating apart and snapping concurrently, a shudder running down his spine at the howl they made along with the response their body offered. Devoiding much of a thought, Viktor pulled his left hand away from their hipbone, dragging the appendage straight to the front of his dress pants, fumbling with both the zipper and hem in an attempt to pull it away from his groin.

"Oh," he heaved as he pulled away, ignoring the whimper that came from his lover in front of him. They wanted this. They needed this. Needed him. "Would you mind if I tried..." The words died in his mouth as soon as they came out, his left hand hovering above his concealed groin. Surely, they would say yes? They seemed a bit dazed, though perhaps it was his fault for not allowing them the relief that they were so close to acquiring. "I want to... feel you. I may not last very long," he fished his dick out of his boxers, feeling his face heat up to the point where he was sure it was red. "Do you want to?"

They made eye contact with him this time. The humanity, the want, the greed and the fear shone in their eyes brightly, but nothing could cover the telltale signs of love and lust. Viktor already knew the answer, they didn't even have to answer him, he already knew what it was going to be by their reaction alone. This was the key to their heart.

Now, at first, Viktor would not lie when he said that it made him feel a bit shy, or nervous—the thought of them seeing such an intimate part of his body, one of which he knows can be heavily judged based on size, was nervewracking to him. But the lack of disgust in their eyes—or maybe it was hidden between a thick cloud of lust—made him believe otherwise. They liked what they saw, and hopefully, nothing would change the way that they saw him. Their approval is what he strives for. However, that does not exactly matter with how far things have gotten. How many times has he repeated that phrase in his head?

The silence was deafening, but it was enough for Viktor to shuffle forward and shift his weight onto his somewhat good leg, swallowing the rising lump in his throat as he used his free hand to pull down their trousers. After this, he would be sure to give things a thorough wash. "Can you come closer?" He asked as he pulled his hand away. Please come closer.

He hadn't expected them to listen to him, nor to actually push themselves off the wall just to get closer to him, but, at the same time, he was not complaining. "Good job," he praised, his hands returning to place on their hips. Their skin felt so warm, but Viktor could still feel the reluctance radiating off of their perfect form. Now, this was just a question of whether or not he should go through with It. If he should finish claiming them.

The rattling chains served as a constant reminder for them to not fall out of line, and Viktor was sure that they did not want to do such a thing, especially not so close to salvation at this point. Steadily, Viktor felt their thighs wrap around his hips, and though the pressure and their weight being shifted onto him were agonising, he tried to force his way through it. The way that he could feel the tip of his dick press against them—that was like pure ecstasy. He never thought the day would come when they would grind into his lap so sensually, and act as if they had never tormented him for years to come.

"God," there was a slight plea laced within his velvet tone, "I need to be inside of you. Please," as much as Viktor loved them, he could never trust them to be the one providing. Not with how their behaviour had exhibited... less than desirable traits. "Will you allow me? We could finally become one in a sense. I just want to feel your insides around me, I want to feel your body heat against me." Whether or not they found pleasure in Viktor's begging, they offered him a response anyway:

"Shut up," was what they said. "Go ahead."

And with that, Viktor found himself slowly pushing their body down into the mattress, further ruining the bedspread and sheets that weren't even properly fixed in the first place. They still seemed reluctant, as their tone even harboured a certain edge to it, but hell, Viktor could not fault them. He feels nervous, too, of course, he does. Pulling down their trousers fully to their calves, he felt a knot grow within his throat. The thought of someone else doing this to them caused bile and jealousy to rise within his empty stomach, curling and screaming in the back of his mind, yet he pushed it aside in favour of much kinder thoughts.

A part of him wished to be able to twist and manipulate this circumstance, but he knew he didn't want to do such a thing - Viktor wanted nothing more than for them to just become wholly his and only his until death would take hold of them both. And even then, that would not split them apart nor dwindle his love for them. "I'm going to..." There was a brief pause, embarrassment etched across his face, "Er, make love to you," he spoke aloud, though it was more as if he was convincing himself that he was going to, rather than informing them.

There was little to no resistance when Viktor pressed himself inside, but it was such a foreign feeling that he could not help but whimper at the sensation. They were warm on the inside, and not the mention that their body would occasionally clench around his dick. His golden eyes gaped at their face, eyeing the expressions that they would make, all the way until the hilt of his dick finally pressed against their pelvic area. This was embarrassing.

Shamelessly, Viktor pulled back his hips, only to snap them forward with a moan. He tried his best to keep quiet, however, with the way that they started breathing heavily with their knees pressed up against the sides of his thighs, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. They were perfect, they felt perfect - on the inside, the outside, no matter. He hunched his body over their own, using the strength in his arms—what was left of it, anyway—to keep himself up. Viktor had no clue how long he would last, nor how his body would allow him to continue. But with how it felt, he hoped it would be long enough.

"You—you're... You're big," they suddenly confessed, a slight whimper escaping with the moan that left them. Fuck, they sounded so adorable like that. "Don't... Stop, please—"

A shiver ran down Viktor's spine at the blatant praise that fell from their lips shamelessly, it seemed so heinous, almost as if they were trying to get him going. "Ah..." Keep talking. "You, ah—you think so?" He panted as his hips snapped forward once, then twice. Was he drooling? Shit, he was drooling. "You feel so good on the in—the inside. So warm, so inviting. I would never... want to stop," a particularly loud moan escaped him, which seemed to be a hybrid of both a moan and wheeze. His lover didn't seem to notice nor care, however.

Why would they ever want to leave when they have such luxury in their life? Here they were, underneath Viktor with their eyes clenched tightly, hands balled up in fists as strings of moans escaped their bitten lips. They looked gorgeous like that. It even made Viktor feel powerful to know that he was able to make them feel such a way. Nearly impossible, he thought, if they weren't tied up and reluctant to accept him, they might have tried something devious and that would have ruined every single thing that Viktor had planned. Still, they're accepting his love.

His rhythm wasn't exactly straight nor following any set beat. Viktor felt as if his movements were sloppy and skewed, choppy thrusts and shuddering muscles that he was surprised had lasted this long. He could feel himself growing close, but he couldn't allow himself to unless they had, first. They mattered more than anything else.

"D... Darling," he nearly cried out, "I love you so much—" One of their hands threw itself behind Viktor's head, tangling their fingers within his messy locks of dark hair, gently tugging him forward. A shock ran down his spine at the gesture.

"I know," they breathed, "I know you do." Were they feeding into his delusion and leaving him to feel as if they felt the same, or did they genuinely love him at this moment? The way their eyes slowly peeked open was complete bliss for him, the irises that stared directly into his own with blown-out pupils—love.

He felt his sloppy movements speeding up, all while his body became sore from the extended movements, and all while this happened he felt the drool collect on the edge of his lips, dripping down his chin to their shirt, wetting the wrinkled fabrics. It didn't matter how ruined it would get, Viktor made a mental note to give them an even better shirt. Nevertheless, a knot coiled itself within his gut, curling around his navel and shooting a cramp up his spine in an almost pleasurable manner.

His bottom lip caught itself in between his incisors, muffling a forthcoming moan. "Are you—" a choked moan. "Are you clos—close? Please—" There was borderline whimpering in tone and he could not help but feel embarrassed for it, but the trembling person below made him feel a little better about his childish worries. They nodded without speaking, staring at him through thick eyelashes. They were gorgeous.

Viktor smiled, and it met his eyes. "So am I."

It was blissful, for him, at least—everything seemed perfect and in order as Viktor's right hand clasped around the side of their waist, squeezing the soft, malleable flesh: pliant. His breathing picked up, as did theirs, but he was determined to stretch this out for as long as he allowed himself to. As he closed his eyes tightly, Viktor felt his thumb dig into the dip between their stomach and hip bone, causing a red indentation on the soft skin. Through his pleasure, he could hear the loud sound of their moans below, as well as the sound of skin slapping against the skin; the squelch of genetic fluids mixed. Viktor's eyebrows furrowed together at the sound, his head falling against their chest, forehead pressed directly above their heart. Their clavicle, he presumed. They felt so good, he didn't want to stop, but he was so close.

"Viktor—" they cried out, suddenly, "I'm g—going—" there was a loud, rueful cry, followed by a high-pitched whimper. He could feel them clench around his dick, and then they had come. This sent him over the edge. Viktor lifted his head weakly and pressed his lips against their own, his saliva smearing all over their mouth and cheeks. He moaned into their mouth, pressing his hips forward one more time as his hand clenched their skin, surely hard enough to leave a bruise. He emptied inside of them, the muscles in his thighs twitching and convulsing, his dick soon going limp thereafter.

For a moment, Viktor caught his breath, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Tears pricked his vision when he opened his eyes, and the slobber dripped from his lips. His legs felt as if they were stuck in mud, but how did they feel? As he lifted himself, Viktor stared down at the person below him, completely covered in the afterglow. I came inside, that was an accident, he thought, but they looked so cute like that.

Much like before, Viktor felt a knot form in the middle of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing with each calculated swallow and breath.

Viktor felt breathless, but he felt as if that was to be expected. He stared down below at the barely visible person he had claimed just a few moments prior; his vision betraying him. He rests his forehead against theirs, a promise of devotion. "What can I do to make you love me?"

"Let me go," they whispered in a soft croon.

"You know I cannot afford to do that. You're mine."

[phoenixyfriend]

Weird Egg?

Okay so in theory, Obi-Wan was plausibly on Mandalore when Anakin was born, right?

(this is technically a variation on a few other fics and AUs I've seen, and I'll list the stuff that came to mind at the end.)

While on Mandalore, Obi-Wan finds An Egg while hiding in a cave with Satine. And he doesn't recognize it, and Satine doesn't recognize it, and even Qui-Gon doesn't recognize it.

Which makes it weird, at the very least, and probably rare. It's the size of his HEAD and even though there's no parent around, the egg is… warm, now? He didn't notice at first, but it's definitely producing at least some of its own heat.

So Obi-Wan brings the egg with him, which is a pain in the ass in terms of maneuvering, but they do seem to have better luck avoiding Death Watch than before, which uh. Given that the egg feels warmer when they're getting lucky, and seems to glow in the Force, they think might not be a coincidence. A lucky rock, except it's alive.

Mission ends. Obi-Wan plans to take the egg back to the temple for study in case they just discovered Something, and as he's saying goodbye to Satine… the egg Hatches.

It is a dragon.

The dragon can project words into Obi-Wan's mind. It's not quite capable of complex thoughts yet, but it's a he (probably), and has a name (Anakin!), and considers the person who's been carrying him and protecting him and keeping him warm for the past six months to be his mom!

Obi-Wan protests at this. Qui-Gon decides to make his life harder with the 'correction' that Obi-Wan would be a dad, not a mom.

So now Obi-Wan has a small dragon which will be growing to the size of a house, that imprinted on him and is following him home and calling him dad and insisting on sleeping in his bed

Idk if you've ever read Septimus Heap, but… the MC of that found a Fancy Rock, put it in his bag, carried it around for a YEAR because he kept forgetting to take it out of his bag, and then it hatched into a dragon. And I kept thinking about that the whole time I wrote this.

In Obi-Wan's defense, he does Have A Plan.

Until the dragon hatches, turns out to be a sapient as a toddler (with promise of growth), and calls him Dad.

And now the plan is gone.

He just wanted to bring a cool egg back to the Temple for study!

And now the Mandalorians are pulling out old books about whatever the fuck this is because these things APPARENTLY went extinct around the same time as the underwater dragon-adjacent thing that is the Mythosaur.

Obi-Wan learns that supposedly the eggs are inert until something with the Force interacts with it in a Purposeful Manner.

Which includes "probing it a little to see if whatever is inside is actually alive."

Anakin's a standard western dragon that can breathe fire because Flyte. Also this post.

Weeeee okay small text for the references I mentioned.

Obviously, first up is the Septimus Heap series by Angie Sage, specifically Magyk and Flyte.

The fic series I was thinking of initially that kind of jumpstarted the AU process was Boga Service Varactyl AU, but specifically Kenobi Kafé Service Animal Boga AU.

I've been seeing a couple of dragon shapeshifter AUs, including that post I linked earlier from @ahsoka-in-a-hood, @bubblew0lf1's dragon shapeshifter AU, and @squad-724's Dragon Jedi AU has been all over my dash for the past few days.

Stubborn to the Bones by @tideswept, which was part of what had me connecting the various dots of Obi-Wan Finding Animal Anakin on a mission, though our outcomes are admittedly very different lol. (Their fic is shippy, and mine is more decidedly gen/familial with a slight nod to Obitine.)

[crowsofdarkness]

Mine: Ransom Drysdale[O.S]

-gif not mine. credit to owners-

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader.

Content Warnings: language, slight violence, drinking, 18+ smut that includes p in v, oral with male and female receiving, spanking, and biting,

Summary: Ransom gets jealous when he sees you with someone else and needs to remind you who you belong to.

Authors Note: I wrote this years ago and originally posted it on my old blog. I apologize if some of the smut is kind of cringe lol like I said I wrote it years ago when I first started writing smut. I found it on my Google Docs and thought I would share it! Chris Evans needs more love on my blog.

The large house was filled with groups of bodies and I gave my best smile while I pushed past them, trying to get some air. The party had slowly become packed over time, Harlan continued to invite more people. It was his eightieth birthday party and he wanted to do just that. 

It had been my job to make sure every guest had enough food or drinks but Harlan made sure that I enjoyed myself as well. 

Just because you’re the housekeeper, doesn’t mean you can't enjoy yourself. 

His words brought a smile to my face. I had been his housekeeper for the last six months and from the first day, he had made me feel like family. He never looked down on me because I was raised with little to no money or that I might not have a successful career as the actual members of his family. 

Those family members also made me feel welcomed, to a certain degree. They made me feel comfortable when around them but their smiles faded the second I left the room. 

There was one member that refused to smile when I walked in. Well, when others were around. When it would be the two of us, he would give me every ounce of attention that would make my knees shake for hours after.  

In that exact moment, I walked past that man and felt his eyes burn deep into my back as he watched my every movement. 

“Need anything, Ransom?” I questioned over my shoulder. 

His blue eyes squinted. “I’m fine.” 

His words were curt and I tried my best not to let it bother me. There were too many eyes on us and he couldn’t afford to let anyone know about us; even if there wasn’t anything going on between us. 

Publicly that is. 

Privately we had hooked up a few times but as much as my heart wanted something more, Ransom did not. 

He was the town's playboy, he couldn’t ruin his image by being in a relationship. 

I put on a great face, letting him know that I was fine with these casual hookups but each time I would walk out of his house after one, my heart would chip away knowing that I wasn’t the only one on his list. 

Honestly, I could have ended it awhile ago but something about Ransom had me tangled in his web of attraction. So I decided that I would enjoy it while I could. There was a relationship out there for me and if it wasn’t with him, oh well. 

“Y/N!” 

Turning on my heels, I plastered on a fake smile as Ransom’s mother, Linda, came storming over towards me. The sour look on her face made me wonder what had gone wrong now. 

“Everything okay?” I asked. 

She furiously shook her head. “We’re running low on the shrimp. That’s dad’s favorite food and we’re running low.” 

“I have two more trays in the fridge downstairs. I’ll go grab it,” I reassured her with a smile. 

“Ransom, will you help Y/N? Those trays are quite heavy,” Linda snapped towards her son. 

Immediately I shook my head, mentioning that I could do it on my own. 

“Nonsense. He’s not doing anything besides brooding that Marta hasn’t said one word to him tonight so he can get off his ass and help.” 

Ransom grumbled a few choice words under his breath as we walked past me towards the basement and reluctantly, I followed behind. The old stairs creaked beneath our feet as we descended to the cold basement. There wasn’t anything special about it, mostly being used as storage for Harlan's old things. 

While Ransom rummaged through the fridge for the trays, I gnawed on my bottom lip as Linda’s words replayed through my head. 

Brooding because Marta hasn’t said one word to him. 

I usually wasn’t a jealous person but the thought of Ransom and Marta together made my stomach drop. I knew that he was seeing other women besides me and as much as that sucked, it didn’t hurt as much as the thought of him and Marta together. 

Marta was Harlan’s nurse and she was also breathtakingly beautiful so I knew that Ransom couldn’t stay away from her. 

“So you and Marta?” 

I mentally smacked myself for not even making it five minutes before asking Ransom about her. 

He turned on his heels after closing the fridge door with his foot and raised a smug brow towards me. 

“Jealous?” He questioned, adjusting the two trays in his hands. 

I shook my head, trying my best to brush it off. “No, I just didn’t think you two were together.” 

“We’re not,” Ransom scoffed. “I don’t do relationships.” 

“Yeah, I know,” I muttered. 

“You know,” he mused while leaning closer towards my lips. “I like the way your eyes darken when you get jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous.” 

Ransom’s eyes glazed over my lips while his tongue rolled over his bottom one and I squeezed my legs together, hoping to stop the itch I had felt below. 

“I guess I’ll have to fuck it out of you later,” Ransom groaned into my ear as he walked passed me, up the stairs.

I stood in a puddle of desire as I replayed the way his voice sounded when he uttered those words. 

The party had died down, family being the only ones left. They were staying at Harlan’s, opting not to drive home after having a few drinks, and while a few of them had retreated to bed, Harlan himself, I busied myself cleaning up the mess. 

Linda and Joni were having a heated discussion about something while Richard and Walt had their own in the corner of the room. 

But those two conversations weren’t important; the one that did peak my interest was the one happening between Marta and Ransom. 

As I collected plate after plate, I tossed my gaze in their direction and felt my stomach drop when I saw Marta place a hand on Ransom's arm, laughing at something he had said. I did notice, however, the way that he gently let her arm slip off of him. 

“Marta,” Linda spoke. “Did you give my father his medication yet?” 

Marta steadied herself, cheeks growing red with getting caught flirting instead of working. “I’m headed up there right now.” 

Not wanting to be caught slacking by Linda, I went to make my way towards the kitchen to start washing the endless stack of dishes but it was Joni’s voice that stopped me in my tracks. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I questioned her. 

Joni gave me a warm smile. “I was saying that I’ve seen you work tirelessly to make sure things run smoothly around here for Harlan that it doesn’t seem like you take time for yourself.” 

“I do,” I nodded. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, a wicked idea flashing in her eyes. “Are you seeing anyone right now?” 

My eyes flashed towards Ransom, who’s attention was one hundred percent on me now.” 

I waited for him to give me a sign of what to say but when he didn’t, I shook my head towards Linda. 

“Nope. Single as can be.” 

“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands, the liquor she drank earlier in the night filling her veins, “I know this perfect guy for you. Can I set the two of you up? You look like you could use a night out and a good night in the sack.” 

“Joni!” Linda scolded. “You can’t say that to people.” 

Ransom’s shoulders tensed at Joni’s words and I stood there awkwardly, stack of plates in my hands, while Joni tried to explain her reasoning. 

“I’m trying to do a nice thing!” She defended. 

“I’m going to go wash these now,” I motioned towards the plates and tried to scurry away. 

I was stopped, however, at Joni’s voice once again. 

“I’ll set you two up for Friday. Does that work?” 

There was a gaze burning into the side of my head and I knew that Ransom was waiting patiently for my answer. I mulled it over for a few moments, knowing that as much as Ransom didn’t want to take our relationship to the next level, I couldn’t let that hinder me from trying to find that with someone else. 

Finally, I nodded. ��Sure.” 

Not bothering to look at any of their gazes, I quickly made my way into the kitchen. 

Friday night had come and I sat at the bar of a local pub while my date chatted about something that I had lost interest in a long time ago. While he was cute, he was one of those guys that cared more about what he was doing in life rather than getting to know about his date. 

Bless Joni for trying to set me up with someone but this one was a complete dud. 

I tore at the paper on my beer bottle, giving my date a nod every now and then so it looked like I was interested in what he was saying. 

My attention had fallen onto the new man that walked into the pub. The white sweater clung to the broad muscles of his chest and I bit back a moan when he ran a hand through his hair, a loose strand falling back into his eyes. I loved when he would leave his hair messy, opting out of gelling it back. 

He must have known that because when our gazes locked, Ransom gave me a smug smile. He took large strides towards the other end of the bar and watched me intently as I reluctantly gave my date my attention when he uttered my name. 

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” 

He smiled. “I asked if you wanted another drink.” 

I looked at the empty bottle in my hand and without second guessing it, I nodded. As much as I would rather be with Ransom, I needed to give this guy a chance. 

When we continued to chat, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances at Ransom, who paid us absolutely no mind. He was busy chatting with a blonde that was almost sitting in his lap. It seemed like he was having the time of this life. 

“It might be all of the shots I took earlier but I was wondering if I could kiss you?” 

My eyes snapped back to my date at how loud he had asked that question. It’s like he knew that Ransom was listening and wanted to make him jealous. 

“Um, I guess.” 

The words were barely out of my mouth before my date was on top of me, lips grossly attaching to mine. It was like he had never kissed a woman before, his saliva painting the lines of my mouth. 

Internally I vomited at how wet my face had suddenly become.

With hands on his chest, I gently pushed him away, wiping away the saliva that glistened my face. 

“Wow,” he mused, clearly having different feelings than my own. 

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go,” I stood while gathering my things. 

He stood fast. “Let me walk you home.” 

Over his shoulder, I noticed that Ransom was shooting daggers into his back, ignoring his own blonde as she tried to make advances on him. His attention was fully on me and my date, wondering what my next words were going to be. His hand covered his mouth, biting nervously on his nails. 

It was a habit he did when he was nervous about something. 

“I can walk home by myself, thank you though,” I gave him my best smile. 

“Come on, we had a great date. Let me walk you home,” he persisted. 

I shook my head. “I’m fine.” 

He grabbed my hand as I walked away, pulling me back into him. “We had a great night, the least you can do is let me walk you home.” 

My gaze bounced between his hand on my wrist and his face. “I suggest you let me go.” 

He scoffed. “You don’t have to be a bitch!” 

He suddenly fell to the ground, groaning with pain as he held onto his privates, my knee slamming into them moments before. 

“The next time you want to take a girl home, maybe learn how to properly kiss,” I fumed down towards him. 

Not bothering to notice the proud smirk on Ransom’s face, I stormed out of the bar with deep regret for even agreeing to this date. 

My feets ascended my stairs, ready to forget this god awful night but halted with a loud knock to my front door. I raised a brow in confusion as to who was visiting my apartment this late. As my lips parted to ask who was there, my phone dinged with a new message. 

It’s me. Open up.

I rolled my eyes. “Go away, Ransom! I really don’t feel like having this terrible night rubbed in my face!” 

Another new message on my phone. 

Please. I promise I won’t talk about that douchebag. 

“I’m sure you have plans with that blonde from earlier so I won’t keep you. Goodnight!” I yelled back to the man on the other side of the door. 

I gasped in shock when the door clicked open, Ransom crossing over the threshold with my spare key twirling around his pointer finger. 

“Where did you get that?” I questioned. 

“You gave it to me before our last hookup, remember?” 

My mouth fell slightly when I did in fact remember that I had given him my spare key, realizing he spontaneously would show up sometimes for a hookup. 

“Well, I’m not in the mood for sex so you can show yourself out,” I motioned to the now closed door behind him. 

Ransom remained quiet, only jumping the stairs by two in order to catch up to me. He was now one step below me and I slightly towered over him. I raised a brow, wondering what he wanted. 

“Can I help you with something?” I asked. 

He shrugged, a light I had never seen before flash in his eyes. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

I nodded while crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m actually tired so I was going to bed. Lock the door on your way out.” 

A loud gasp fell through my lips when I felt Ransom lift me over his shoulder and carry me to my bedroom. I struggled in his grasp, protesting that he put me down that instant. Those protests, however, were hushed with a firm smack to my ass. 

I bit back a moan. 

Once we were in my room, he tossed me onto the bed and before I could speak more protest, he was on top of me, his lips engulfing me with such desire it made me immediately soak my panties. 

I moaned into his mouth when his tongue forced its way onto mine and I relished in the familiar feeling. 

This was the type of kiss that made your knees weak and the kind that every single woman wanted. 

“Ransom,” I gently broke the heated exchange. “I’m really not in the mood for another booty call.” 

His hand cupped my cheek, forcing our eyes to lock. 

“I promise this isn’t a booty call.” 

“Then what is it?” I questioned. “Because if you plan on walking out that door the second we are done then spare me another heartbreak and do it now.” 

Not another word was spoken as he attacked my lips once more, biting and gnawing at my bottom one. I decided to let go of whatever problems I had at that moment, knowing that the next hour I spent with him, Ransom would ease them away. 

He started biting and nipping at the flesh of my neck and I moaned into it, my nails scratching at the wool on his back. He understood the silent message and soon shed off the sweater. I marveled at the way the muscles of his stomach glistened under the moonlight coming from my bedroom window. 

“Off,” he demanded while pointing to my oversized t-shirt. 

I obliged, knowing that Ransom loved being the dominant one in the bedroom, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it. 

I lay underneath him in only a pair of underwear that he wasted no time in sliding off of my legs, tossing to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Ransom motioned to his belt and without a second thought, I quickly made work of undoing it and his jeans, my hand quickly grabbing at this hard dick. 

He groaned with pleasure as I continued to palm him, knowing that he loved it when I would rub in circles. 

“Y/N,” Ransom moaned with a breath. 

My body tingled and I knew I needed to hear him say my name like that again. So I helped him out of his pants before rolling on top of him. While I straddled his hips, I almost didn’t notice the sly smirk pulling at his mouth. 

“What?” 

He shook his head. “I kind of like when you take control.” 

I leaned down towards his face and slowly dragged my thumb over his lip. “Is Ransom Drysdale admitting that he’s a sub in this relationship?” 

A scowl appeared on his face now. “Be a good girl and suck my cock.” 

I whimpered at his demand and not wanting to disappoint, I left pepper kisses down his chest and stomach, his happy trail tickling my lips, and when I reached the top of his briefs, I dared a glance up towards him. 

His pupils were dark and I felt his body writhe with anticipation under me. 

Not wanting to waste anymore time, I quickly shed him of the briefs and when his dick popped out and gently smacked his thigh, I licked my lips with hunger. 

The size at first always brought a shock to my system but as my tongue worked its way over the head and down the shaft, I knew with the way Ransom’s breath caught in his throat that I was doing exactly what he wanted. 

“Good girl, right there. Press your tongue harder,” He demanded in between moans.

I always did what I was told, Ransom having that effect on me. 

His fingers dug deep into my hair, pulling on the roots and I moaned a vibration on him, a loud guttural groan fell through Ransom’s lips. I was yanked off of him with a pop and felt my body being thrown onto the bed again, him on top of me once more. 

Before I could ask what he was doing, his mouth was in between my legs, tasting my most private folds. I let out a breathy moan while my fingers worked through his hair this time, bringing him closer to me. The tip of his tongue flicked over my mound in response and I melted into him. 

My orgasm was so close, on the very edge of explosion, and Ransom could always tell when it was coming. Sometimes he would let me grasp it, shaking my body to its core. But other times, he would make me chase it for a while. 

And tonight, it was going to be the latter. 

“Ransom,” I whined. “Please. I need this.” 

His teeth dug into the insides of my thighs and I hissed in pleasure. 

“What do you need, baby girl?” 

Words had become foreign so I simply lifted my hips, my heated pussy inches from his mouth. 

“I’m sure your date would have had trouble finding all your sweet spots,” Ransom noted, placing soft kisses along the fresh teeth marks on my skin. 

I remained quiet, unsure of what he wanted me to say. 

“Do you think he would know all the ways to make your body shake?” 

When I didn’t say anything, a hard bite was felt on the inside of my thigh and this time hissed in pain. 

“What the fuck, Ransom?” I cursed, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Answer the question,” he demanded with dark hooded eyes. 

“No, he couldn’t.” 

“Atta girl,” Ransom mused. 

He repaid my correct answer with a long lick to the middle of my folds and I melted into the grooves of his tongue. A large finger slipped through and started pumping in and out which caused my head to fall onto the pillow, eyes rolling to the dark corners of head. 

“Fuck, Ransom.” 

Another finger entered and soon with the two and his tongue, I felt myself grasping at a release and my toes curled with anticipation of wondering if he would allow the release to wreak havoc over me. 

A squeal sounded off of the walls of my room when I was rolled onto my stomach and Ransom's warm chest pressed into my back as he leaned down towards my ear. His fingers found my insides again and my eyes fluttered closed at the new position, the feeling covered me in goosebumps. 

Ransom always knew what I needed before I did. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby girl. So filthy. All of this for me?” 

I nodded with vigor.

He repaid another correct answer with a soft nuzzle to the crook of my neck. I wanted to question this new soft action but the sounds of my wetness on his fingers brought my lips to a close. The squelching noises were ungodly as it echoed through the room. 

Ransom worked a mark on my skin. “Who’s the one that makes you this wet?” 

“You are,” I didn’t bother wasting time to answer. 

His hands spread my legs wide and when he leaned back to align himself with my opening. 

“Who do you belong to?” Ransom questioned with a deep tone. 

“Please, I can’t wait anymore,” I pushed my ass towards him. 

He smacked my ass, hard, clearly not happy with me avoiding the question. But honestly, I didn’t know how he wanted me to answer. This was new territory in this weird relationship. When we did have our random hook ups, it was the typical moans and fucks, but never once did he ask who I belonged too. 

“I’m going to ask again; who do you belong to?” Ransom demanded, the tip of his cock sliding along my wet folds. 

That sensation was enough. 

“You! I belong to you, Ransom,” I moaned. “Now can you please fuck me already?” 

With a quick snap of his hips, his cocked filled me to the brim and I clenched down around him. He gave me no mercy as he pounded into me from behind, my body falling and rising onto the bed. He reached around, the pad of his thumb pressed light circles on my sensitive clit.

“You’re mine and I’m yours, baby girl,” Ransom proclaimed in a mess of moans. 

My first orgasm of the night came quickly but Ransom didn’t give me a chance to enjoy it before he wrapped a hand around my throat to pull me up into his chest. We were now kneeling on the bed, his position still behind me. 

I tried to pat his hand, letting him know that I needed a second to let the feeling of my orgasm fill me but he bit down on the skin of my shoulder, a familiar hiss of pleasure falling from my lips. 

Ransom’s thrust was hard as he continued to pound into me, not bothering to give me a second to breathe. This was nothing different from our past times together but something about it tonight was different. It felt as if he was afraid to let me go. 

“Ransom,” I said with a broken tone. “I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can baby girl. I know you have another one for me,” Ransom urged me on towards another climax while leaving yet another mark on my neck.

His thumb found its previous spot once more. 

With each thrust, Ransom would only speak a few words. 

“You. Are. Mine.” 

His proclamation was what I needed to catch my second release, the orgasm completely destroying my body. I yelled out in pleasure, a bright light overtaking my vision, as I fell limp in Ransom’s grasp. 

“I hope you can go for a while because I’m going to take my time with you,” Ransom proclaimed after roughly turning me onto my back. 

I stared up at him with a post orgasmic gaze and licked my dry lips. “I can’t.” 

“We both know you can go all night, sweetheart,” Ransom reminded me. 

Before I could say another word, he slipped his cock into me once more and even if I was exhausted, I moaned his name. I scratched at the skin on his back, doing whatever I could to bring him closer. I needed to feel every inch of him. 

He hiked up my leg up over his shoulder, the new position making me see stars. This time his thrust was slow, almost antagonizing slow, but I didn’t complain. Whether it was fast or slow, it always brought me what I craved. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” 

Our gazes locked and Ransom’s pupils were blown out with lust which caused me to twitch on him. 

“Fuck, you feel so good on my cock. Lift your hips a little,” he let out a groan. “Just like that, baby. I’m going to cum.” 

“Oh god,” my head fell back with a silent moan falling from my lips. 

His arms wrapped around me, bringing our sweaty bodies closer together, and within seconds we were overtaken with our own climaxes. 

Ransom collapsed his body onto me, his cheek pressing into my shoulder, while I wrapped my leg over his hip, still craving to feel the heat radiating off of him. We laid there for a few moments, trying to calm down from the high, and I turned to look at Ransom, who left pepper kisses on the skin of my shoulder. 

The slight action caused my cheeks to burn, the almost loving action had brought a small smile to my lips. 

Something about this hook up was different. Usually by now Ransom would be dressed and out the door. He did mention before that this wasn’t our usual hook up but I never expected to feel a new kind of emotion. 

I didn’t want to say prematurely what that emotion was, afraid that it would spook Ransom. 

His fingers traced random shapes over my lower back and I moved a small strand of hair from his face. 

“Can I ask you something?” I asked. 

When he nodded, I continued. “I know at the moment we say things that we don’t mean but did you mean it when you said that we belonged to each other?” 

Ransom’s face twitched and I prepared for him to push me off and walk away. But he didn’t. He simply nuzzled closer into my neck, breathing in my scent. 

“I don’t usually get all mushy with my feelings but I meant what I said.” 

I smiled while placing a kiss on top of his head. “What changed your mind?” 

With a quick switch of our bodies, I was now laying on his chest while he ran fingers through my knotted hair. 

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Ransom began. 

“Felt what?” I asked. 

With another sigh, lifted my chin so I could look up at him. “When I saw you with that jackass tonight, all I felt was rage. I wanted to punch him for the way he treated you tonight.” 

A small smile pulled at my lips. “I appreciate the thought but I can handle myself.” 

“I know you can,” he scoffed. “You’ve knocked me on my ass a few times but the point is that the second Joni mentioned setting you up with someone until moments before showing up here, all I felt was jealousy. I can’t imagine the thought of you lying in bed with someone else.” 

Jealous?

I was shocked. 

Ransom Drysdale, millionaire, playboy, was jealous?

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want a relationship,” I reminded him while grazing a finger over his cheek. 

The skin was soft, him shaving earlier in the day. He never sported any facial hair and I did admit, liked him better like this. 

Ransom nodded with my statement. “I don’t know what it is about you. This was only supposed to be a casual thing, fucking every once in a while, but the more I found myself away from you, the more I wanted to be with you.” 

“I would say I’m flattered but for all I know, you could have said this to the blonde earlier or even Marta.” 

I cringed at my words, realizing that my own jealousy could have ruined the moment. 

Ransom shook his head and as much as I wanted to fight against him, I knew with the way he had fucked me, that he was telling the truth. 

So to prove that he was telling the truth, he placed my hand on his chest, heart beating hard against it, and gently cupped my face and brought his lips onto mine in a slow, passionate kiss. 

There was something different in the way his lips moved against mine or the way his tongue slowly explored my mouth. 

This kiss had love behind it. 

I slowly pulled away, my head dizzy with anticipation and let out a low breath. 

“Wow, I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that before,” I noted. 

“I’ve never kissed anyone like that before,” he admitted. 

Another soft peck to his lips.  “Do you want to spend the night? Maybe tomorrow we could talk more about our relationship?” 

He nodded without hesitation. “As long as you promise not to hog all the blankets.” 

That night was the first time we had spent the night in each other's arms and also the last night either of us would spend alone. 

[olderthannetfic]

Hi, I sent you these asks around six months ago, and now that I’ve stumbled across your blog again, I have a few things I want to say.

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/762407704596709376/do-you-have-any-idea-where-one-might-post-smut

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/762779259041398784/ive-been-sending-that-ask-to-anyone-and-everyone

First of all I just want to say that it was incredibly rude of me to ask you about this, or anyone i was reaching out to here on Tumblr tbh. I still have my issues with AO3’s content, but honestly I think my personal opinions on AO3 are beside the point. I wasn’t aware you worked on AO3 when I sent that ask, but I was looking for people who posted about AO3 to ask, which. I don’t really know what I expected. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.

As for finding a different site to engage with my fandoms on, I never did. I tried neocities for a while. I spent about 2 ish months figuring out how to get the website to work how I wanted it to. I got all my fics on their own pages, with a (really janky tbh) “tagging” system with pages for all my multi chapter fics, all my oneshots, etc. I was really proud of it!

And then I had no fandom, because Wattpad was the only place where I talked to people about my fandoms. And without anywhere else to advertise my neocities, nobody was ever gonna find it. And it destroyed my enjoyment of writing altogether. I held on for a few months, writing things even if it felt pointless and I really didn’t want to tbh. I never enjoyed writing to nobody like this to begin with. But I made myself keep going anyway until I couldn’t stand looking at the words I wrote. And then I’d “post” it, and nobody would read it anyway, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to look at it anymore to read it again myself. So it was basically like before with my google drive, but a google drive I spent 2 months troubleshooting and setting up myself, and with confirmation that no, even if it is visible now, nobody wants to see it anyway. And I did this for months. Just me, screaming into the little void I made for myself. Every time I’d post something to nobody, it made me hate the whole process a little more. And I STILL had no community, even a small one, which is what I wanted to find in the first place.

I’ve since deleted both my neocities, and every fanfic I’ve ever written. Not only have I not found what I was looking for, I’ve made writing unenjoyable for myself now too. You were all right and I failed spectacularly, just like you said I would. I now have no community, none of my old writings, and I’ve killed my muse.

You were right. But now I don’t have anything to share anyway, and honestly? I really, really, really don’t want to write anymore, and now I don’t have anything old I could even try AO3 with. So I think the part of my life when I wrote things is just over now. You were all right and I was an idiot, and now I’m an idiot with one less hobby that used to make me happy. And now I’m completely giving up, like some other people said I would too.

I’m sorry I was rude to you, you didn’t deserve that. I just wanted you to know you were right.

--

The muse will resurface eventually. Having long periods of I Will Never Write Again is pretty common, but they generally end.

[tornoleander]

Finally Ironed out some ninja designs! I Usually don’t share references but with the behind the scenes stuff I’m doing on my Skybound project I don’t have much else I can share yet.

There is a few headcanon/ Fic stuff in references and powers and the all ninja shot is for first part of Skybound project.

I can share Skybound project Updates! I’m making lots of progress! Trying to focus on p1 stuff so I can put full force into the p2 stuff!

|

V

P1 may be ready Summer? 2025

My Skybound talk Video:

* God I have so much to ramble about just when I think I covered something a new angle gets me

* How TF am I supposed to sanely transition from the wholesome reasons I love this season into the horribly problem stuff. Sigh*

* Actually studying videos covering serious topics to navigate how to word things.

* I have to stop drawing so much art for everything or no one will ever see this video.

* The desire to animate my character lipsinking to me is an evolutionary disadvantage I will resist.

Cannon compliant Animatic:

* Song is Ironed out fought a while adding voice lines and I’m way more excited than I thought I’d be for this animatic because I thought it would be overshadowed by how strongly I feel about the other 2. But damn.

* I’m storyboarding after like my life depends on it rn

* Really trying to capture Nya’s character Ark which sent me right back to the video script because I remembered that one reddit post calling her a bitch and rage wrote for 2 hours.

* I am determined to make people see how good her character arc actually is.

* Throwing Jay shade in this one lol he was kinda awful even with being manipulated.

* Trying to convey clear Ideas and story through art is pain but also addicting.

* This is meant as a leading to both part two animatics, but bbnb Kai is shorter than wytyaa Kai. The difference is significant everything else pre dinner with Nadakhan is the same. The other head cannons are almost aligned as far as I know. It’s JUST Kai. What do I do with him?!? Lmao Might just distance him from the other ninja so you can’t tell how tall he is. Thank goodness he is the most gullible and first to wish it all away

P2 out like December if I’M lucky TT

Even though I should focus on first things first, I can’t help myself. these fics have lived rent free in my brain for like 2 years and despite plans shifting the excitement of drawing the story I read and put to music in my head is a force of nature. Thanks Adhd

Wytyaa:

* I storyboarded about half the scenes I want to. Songs are decided but a few parts I’m waiting for the rest of the story for.

* I think I’m going to mess with color palette. I really want to capture the emotion and intensity. I’m learning the full potential of my art and

* I need Final ch released for maping out the second half.

* BUT I AM NOT READY TO READ IT @mondothebombo And from what you told me I don’t think I’ll be able to finish P1 by then. cries*

* I wanna capture the feeling reading wytyaa.

* May make my wytyaa specific refs so I can make animatic art I can post early.

Bbnb

* It’s all storyboarded and half animated

* Thinking about redoing most the earlier stuff, consistency has been a problem

* Also was to mess with colors, dark backgrounds and intense colors.

* I fought with my ref forever to find good enough lightning scar colors cause figuring out the right amount of contrast is pain.

* So now I want to redraw my bbnb scar references a third time.

* May draw other bbnb specific refs so I can make some art for the animatic I can post here early or on on my old A03 book

If you have Any questions feel free to leave an ask! I answer all eventually sometimes I do save em up though so if I didn’t answer something yet, Sorry I will get to you.

[alexanderwales]

I watched a kind of stupid romcom, The Hating Game, which features two people working at a publishing company. She's a creative, he's a stuffy accountant, they hate each other. Overall pretty forgettable, with the only thing that stuck out to me about the romance aspect being how sex-motivated the woman was (there were a few times she seemed like she was thinking that this was just a fun sexual escapade).

But there's a point at the end of the movie where she has to present her plan for the future of this publishing company, and I was all ears. This is a classic writing problem, right? You're writing a character who is giving a rousing speech, and then you have to actually write the speech, unless you're going to cop out and just skip it. You're writing a character who's singing a song, and you have to actually think about what that song is going to be (though no one excepts to have a song packaged with their book). If someone is witty and charming, you have to write them that way. So if someone has an idea to save a publishing company from declining sales, then the author needs to think of one.

And in this movie, the pitch is that authors will post their chapters one at a time with special forums set up for each book, so the audience can comment on chapters as they come out, and the author can respond to and change the chapters. She compares it to old serials like Dickens used to write.

I was left flabbergasted. Ma'am, are you proposing to compete with Wattpad, AO3, RoyalRoad, or the other vast collection of websites already doing this? Are you hoping to get author buy-in? Have you thought about the fact that authors don't universally enjoy trying to shift a book based on audience feedback, and that audiences don't universally enjoy getting a book slow-rolled to them? Have you thought about what kind of content moderation strategy you're going to have? Who's going to build out this website and how you're going to attract people to it? How this interacts with the core model of your business where you publish actual physical books that have been edited by editors? How are you recouping costs here, or are you just thinking that a book-based social media site specific to your publishing company is going to drive readers somehow? I have just so many questions about this plan.

And stepping back, did whoever wrote this movie know that this was not a great or original idea? The movie is based on a book, and I would hope that someone who wrote a book set in the publishing industry would have some knowledge about how it works, but I guess I don't know.

I think my general advice to this writer's problem is "swing for the fences", write the poem that's supposed to bring joy to someone, think up the great plan your character is supposed to have ... but I think here, it's proof of how much this approach can result in falling flat on your face.

(I'm not sure how much the average viewer took note of this, I might be unusually sensitive to it because I'm a web serial guy.)