#on fast sundays however it is literal

[bioblsm]

WHAT DOES THEIR CAMERA ROLL LOOK LIKE?

❀ ꒰warnings꒱. boothill backstory spoilers, not proofread ಥ_ಥ

𖧷 characters. jing yuan, blade, dr ratio, ruan mei, aventurine, sunday, boothill

☆彡 notes. aventurine 🤝 boothill — being some of the most gay ass mfs i’ve seen in a hyv game (apart from bronya and seele) seriously their flamboyance still gives me whiplash…anyways this has been on my mind for months now but i’ve never gotten around to writing it!!! >_<

JING YUAN 𐚁 景元

[◉"] 2,304 photos, 83 videos

⌖ if you scroll really fast down or up his gallery, all you’ll actually manage to see is splotches of pink, blonde and silver

⌖ everything ranges from cute candid shots of yanqing (he takes multiple if yanqing’s fallen asleep while on duty), to sneaky pictures of fu xuan as she’s working where he’s in the foreground doing peace signs — the final picture of course being her looking at the camera lense directly to glare up at him

⌖ reaching weekends when he’s slightly a little more free or allows himself a small break to stroll around town, his camera roll is either filled with pictures of food he’s eaten or swords that yanqing may or not definitely ask about that he’s now more inclined to buy as he’s seen them in person (he’s a boy dad who loves spoiling his child, alright?)

⌖ the large majority of his photos unfortunately are work related, only really the recent ones being deleted from his gallery to clear up some space

⌖ however, while his photos are preoccupied with either his two kids or random scrolls with messy and rushed handwriting, each video is of you; jing yuan thinks a picture would belittle your beauty too much.

⌖ he needs something a little more real, a little more active and animated to help him quell the chirping loneliness that creeps up on his heart whenever you’re away from him for a prolonged period of time; if he’s feeling particularly mischievous he might sneak a quick but blurry picture of himself to send to you ♡

BLADE 𐚁 刃

[◉"] 9 photos, 2 videos

⌖shit is BARREN. literally a complete EMPTY VOID. if you snatched his phone somehow you’d assume he just got it despite him not having changed it ever since he received one

⌖ perhaps on the occasion you’ll find a cameo picture from one of the stellaron hunters as his phone is left unoccupied and someone decided to blast his entire gallery with their face (silverwolf specifically just hacks into his phone to keep putting random screenshots he’s never taken in his gallery to make him believe he’s taken them)

⌖ maybe sometimes he’ll screenshot different ways to die or health clinic locations he can avoid when he’s fortunately bleeding out but otherwise? nothing.

⌖ if you’re a massive yapper and love sending him pictures, he won’t go out of his way to download them for later usage (whatever that may be…) but he also won’t go out of his way to delete it if it’s accidentally automatically downloaded on his phone — maybe elios intended for it to be there?

⌖ it’s quite nice having a reminder of his significant other where he doesn’t have to actively listen to their voice… that’s a little exaggerative; but he loves just mapping out the features in your face, it helps him sleep just the slightest bit better with no ailment if he’s able to trace your features like a constellation on his blank, dark wall

DR RATIO 𐚁 真理医生

[◉"] 1000 photos, 100 videos

⌖ call it a form of ocd, but he NEEDS to have a decent ratio (i didn’t even mean for this to be a pun i’m so sorry) of his photos to videos; he doesn’t care if it’s 10:1, 2:1 1:5, he needs something that’s at least somewhat pleasing to the eyes

⌖ ratio immediately deleted anything he doesn’t need or thinks he won’t find use in for at the very least the month (this includes every single cameo shot aventurine or you have taken of yourselves on his phone without his permission, which by the way, he didn’t hesitate to scold you two for)

⌖ maybe if he’s feeling particularly loving (when is he ever?) he’ll allow ONE picture to stay.

⌖ his camera roll is purely filled with test results, written exams, student emails he needs to read over, things concerning the guild or the ipc and secret purchases of ducks he’s made (he’s not ashamed, he just doesn’t want you to know he’s buying ducks that are bigger in size every time so he can fill your shared bathroom)

⌖ realistically, maintaining such a perfect ratio of photos:videos is rather impossible unless you’ve got impeccable timing with things you save and delete so, in order to bypass this, ratio made a photo library to help serve as a base number of sorts

⌖ that photo library is of course a secret and locked haven filled with pictures and videos of you, none of which you can even recall taking. all of them hold at least some sort of significance to the both of you, but the ones that dr ratio loves the most is the ones that are just natural

⌖ the ones that show you being yourself, whether it’s where you’re cuddled up near a blanket reading something with a leg hiked up over the sheets or where you’re sleeping with your mouth wide open because you’re sick and unable to breathe through your nose properly; he loves it all

RUAN MEI 𐚁 阮•梅

[◉"] 505 photos, 28 videos

⌖ she tries to keep it as neat as possible; that means no sneaky pics taken of her by you, accidental blurry shots she’s taken (god forbid, those ones are immediately scrapped and done anew especially if related to an experiment of hers) thought that doesn’t mean she clears it in the regular

⌖ ruan mei actively saves any photo you send her, sometimes she’ll even screenshot the chat itself if she finds herself clutching at her heart as she swoons over a few lines of flirting that apparently you couldn’t hold yourself back from due to how much you missed her

⌖ she’s not someone really sentimental so despite having photos of her little cake-cat hybrids, she rarely ever rechecks them unless the trailblazer sent another report on their status to match

⌖ honestly her memory is impeccable to the point she doesn’t even need screenshot reminders of things like dates and experiments saved (would it even be called machine reductionist to call her a walking computer model at this point?) therefore, anything she saves that’s work or science related probably has more intricacies that she can account for

⌖ her gallery is a little boring otherwise. for someone of her morally grey standards you’d expect at least something worth mentioning, maybe even something dumb like a secret recipe she uses to make the sweetest (anti-truth serum…) pastries but no— nothing.

yet the reason for that is very blatant; not even her beloved has the privilege to witness her mendacity.

AVENTURINE 𐚁 砂金

[◉"] 8,793 photos, 777 videos

⌖ it’s a complete and utter mess to say the very least; dr ratio refuses to so much as glance at it whenever he’s near and topaz just gets an ick:

“how do you even manage to find anything?”

“luck.”

⌖ his photos range from absurd, to sweet to egotistical. things that remind him of you such as random rocks he finds, alcoholic beverages that have the same colour scheme of an outfit you wore the night before, an animal he saw that he swears if reincarnation was real would so be you

⌖ he has a specific library for just solely screenshots based off your chats, most of them including a significant amount of “i love yous” and goodbyes that promised a little something more when you met up next; everything that aventurine utterly cherished and craved

⌖ …and then the rest was either him showing the background of him photobombing others, pictures he took to send to you (or one of the ipc members to piss them off, sometimes even the trailblazer for a cheeky laugh) and on the even more popular occasion, all his extraordinary wins whether it be in poker, pool or uno

⌖ compared to his photos, his videos are slightly more interesting. a near 50/50 split that ranged between him telling dumbass jokes to piss off his coworkers, recordings of the back of dr ratio’s and or topaz’s head just for the future laughs (he likes the reminder that he does actually have friends and they aren’t just deliberate hallucinations born of loneliness).

⌖ but of course, all his “favourited” videos involve you somehow. sometimes it’s just a slip of your name while he’s sneakily recording a meeting, him telling you he misses you or vice versa, other times it’s just when he feels like he has a home. you snuggled up on his chest, hands intertwined together as your breathing nearly synchronises with him…moments where he feels as though he could forget the trademark imprinted onto his neck.

SUNDAY 𐚁 星期日

[◉"] 777 photos, 111 videos

⌖ now as much as i want to say “oh it’s all you! he has a special folder for you <3” i unfortunately can’t.

⌖ it’s almost most definitely videos of robin’s concerts, solo shows, videos he stolen off of audience members with good seats when he wasn’t available to personally hide in the crowd…a lot of the photos are also the same way; robin’s promotional pictures, screenshots from her recent advertisements and negative hate comments or news stories that he’s going to personally deal with later

⌖ that doesn’t mean he values or priorities you over his sister, absolutely not. you two are the only people in his life who he would unironically take down the skies and survive utter torment for if it meant your voices were the last things he heard as bellowing winds sliced past his eardrums to tune the world out in order to hear his own final breath

⌖ he tries his best not to be sentimental or nostalgic, as he’s been told as he grew up into the bright and maybe just slightly tragic and guilt-infested man he is today, those things in his eyes are an innate weakness of humanity. clinging onto something thats not tangible anymore.

⌖ but he can’t help but hold on to every video you send him. every picture of you smiling, laughing, every text of you saying i love yous, quoting love songs to him or showing him pictures where you jokingly said “that’s us” (did he tilt his head a few times when you kept sending animals to him with that particular correspondent message? perhaps, but it never made him blind to the intentions).

BOOTHILL 𐚁 波提欧

[◉"] 12,113 photos, 191 videos

⌖ he truly doesn’t gaf (give a fork) about how messy it is, all the things that are genuinely important are already locked and loaded into his noggin’, there’s no point in being frugal with the space he’s been given on a little cellular device

⌖ you wouldn’t believe it, but he rarely uses it unless it’s for emergencies. there’s plenty of trouble that comes around when you’re a galaxy ranger, which means having a constant tracking device on you like a phone that you update daily is a stupidly bad idea; which is precisely why his photo gallery is a mess

⌖ he quite literally can’t go in and clear it out otherwise it risks giving out sensitive information.

⌖ not applicable to you, that is. in boothill’s eyes, you’re an “emergency”. if you’ve texted him, it’s obvious you want his attention, which potentially means you could be in danger and he has to rush to the rescue like the flamboyant cowboy he is (no he absolutely knows you don’t need help, but there’s always that nagging “what if” factor, you know?)

⌖ he inwardly blesses whoever invented screenshotting because it would be an understatement to say that little as half of his gallery is littered with you. he’s just a bit of a boomer when it comes to technology like this, despite being a whole walking charging port himself ehem, so a lot of the pictures he has saved of you that you sent over whenever he cutely pleaded;

“missing ya, send me a lil’ somethin’ wont you?”

unfortunately are uncropped and framed with the outline of whatever messaging app you’re on.

⌖ if he lets you scroll up far back enough, maybe you’ll get to see just a glimpse of how similar his adoptive daughter’s smile was to his

© BIOBLSM ✮ do not copy steal or repost

[azullumi]

JESUS, TAKE THE WHEEL ?!

premise — to put it simply, hsr men driving. characters — boothill, sunday, aventurine, veritas ratio, jing yuan, and blade content tags — small mentions of reader, probably fluff, not proofread, i don't know how to tag this please | wc: 0.6k ; headcanons

note from me — this idea was brought to me after nearly crashing and getting multiple heart attacks while my dad was driving

BOOTHILL, races with the wind that it feels like you left your soul somewhere in the road—literally a wild spirit who seems to enjoy the feeling of the breeze on his skin. He probably got you lost one time too, or maybe twice, or thrice. He just loves fast cars and faster chases, likes the thrill of it (much to your dismay if you’re a cautious person). He’s probably cussed someone out for cutting him off his lane which led to him nearly crashing when he pressed the brakes suddenly. Despite his reckless driving habits, his quick thinking and reflexes keeps him out of harm.

SUNDAY, perfect law-abiding citizen—follows the traffic rules, doesn’t go past the speed limit, never crashes, never gets pulled over, you’re in the safest hands and you can trust the entirety of your life on him. You have a good road trip, a great driver, and someone who you can easily talk to. It’s perfect. He probably has a playlist ready with the most of it being his sister’s songs, playing and listening to it as he drives, often humming along with the melody.

AVENTURINE, drives like there’s no tomorrow when he’s alone but drives like the most responsible and careful driver whenever there’s someone with him in the car. He likes driving during the night despite the risk of it (and that’s honestly the point); he does love the quiet streets and the solitude he gets, taking long drives to often clear his mind or just drive somewhere where he wants to be, often taking the scenic route. There are times that he drives in complete silence, deep in thought, and taking random turns.

VERITAS RATIO, just your normal and average sane driver. Literally it’s all just normal with him that it feels so wrong. He’s quite the careful driver but is easily annoyed when someone cuts off his lane and you’ll have to deal with a rambling doctor that calls people who have no driving etiquettes foolish and reckless. He strictly follows the rules of the road, but doesn’t hesitate in voicing out his frustrations at those who don’t. Other than that, everything is fine. He rarely listens to music, however, opting to listen to educational podcasts or the radio instead—he says it helps in keeping him focused.

JING YUAN, bold of you to even assume he’s driving; he doesn’t drive, or he rarely does. He’s a passenger princess, a shotgun queen, the backseat sleeper,—preferring to sleep on his seat than focus his eyes on the road. If he ever drives, however, it’s slow and careful. He’ll reason that there’s nothing to rush for and that you all have the time in the world, and you don’t know if you’re supposed to accept his reasoning, especially when you’re going to be late. The chance of him falling asleep while driving is higher than the chance of arriving at your destination early (a 10-minute drive easily becomes a 30-minute one and no, it’s not because of the traffic).

BLADE, believe it or not but he’s, if not the most, but one of the trusted drivers. While he does go past the speed limit sometimes and maybe he does have to swerve the car that you’ll fly off your seat (if not without your seatbelt) ever so often, you never die while he’s the one on the driver seat—thankfully. Surprisingly, he does wear his seatbelt and even urges you to wear yours (even if he didn’t, you’ll have to because you have nothing else to hold on to). The most silent car ride to ever exist though as he’ll only speak when you’ll ask him something, otherwise you’re left on your own with a conversation in the wind. Nevertheless, you’ll arrive at your destination in one piece. Not until the mara strikes.

FELIIII, a lovely mention to the beautiful and lovely @dr-felitas !! i'm getting back to writing now since i'm back from vacation (which means i can do anything and everything i want, but not including ghosting 🔥) ANYWAYS i would like to say thank you for always being patient with me and my replies ,, like my bad g 🙏 i really appreciate your presence in my life and your constant understanding, and i know i already told you this but you're a very warm and comforting person and i only hope for the best things to come in your life (i know love and beauty exists because you exist and you're full of it). i will support you in each and every one of your decisions, despite how bad or stupid it can be. don't let anything hold you back boo, never listen to your haters or your opps 🗣, you're still young and you have all the time in the world to experience meaningful moments (even heartbreaking ones). so go talk to that girl bae <33 no matter what happens, i'll always be here for you. ily lots mwaaaa

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m a person who is infinitely curious about other cultures. Always have been. Hopefully always will be. I like making friends from other places, learning about their politics, their history, junk food, traffic safety laws, literally anything. God willing, one day I will have the means to visit many of these places myself.

I won’t claim that this casual studying of other cultures makes me fully understand these other cultures. It’s difficult to fully comprehend the nuances of Sunday dinner from halfway across the world on a computer screen.

However, I think what I’ve observed from all this is that so many things you see as unquestionable truth are social constructs. And so many people see their social constructs as inherently better.

Like what is the way you cool off your coffee or other hot beverage? I learned once that it’s perfectly normal in some places to pour your drink in between two different mugs to cool it off. Which makes total sense. I started doing that occasionally when I learned that.

In a lot of cultures though you just don’t do that. That’s not how you cool off your coffee. You cool off coffee by blowing on it or waiting or putting milk in it or whatever it is and people will be absolutely disgusted and appalled at you for pouring your drink between two mugs.

Which is really silly, right? There’s a lot of potential different ways to cool off a hot drink but so many people from all over the world learn that some people do it a different way than they do and their first reaction is disgust.

That is so fascinating to me. I don’t know if it’s related to humans’ inherent xenophobia or fear of change or the unknown or what but it’s crazy the things that people see as unshakable truth and the hills that they will die on. People from all over the world react like this to such tiny things.

Manners are another thing people get weird about. Manners are generally arbitrary and have no true objective reason a lot of the time but they’re important because they keep us being civil to each other even in our worst days. Manners are also something that isn’t generally universal and people get so offended when other countries’ manners are different from theirs.

Like in much of the US smiling at strangers you make eye contact with is polite because it indicates you don’t have any ill will towards them. Just accidental eye contact bro have a nice day neighbor.

Other countries get so creeped out about this and swear that Americans are so fake. No way they’re that happy all the time. And no, we’re not. It’s just how our manners work.

Conversely, Americans will go to another country like France or whatever and be like oh nobody smiled at me nobody gave me directions nobody wanted to be friends with me and it’s like yeah French people don’t make friends very fast and they have their own standards of greeting and social customs you weren’t following.

Neither the American or the French approach to politeness is objectively better or worse. They just have different arbitrary rules they’re following to keep everyone civil.

It’s just so fascinating to me that people can’t process these ideas. No, they think. The way I do things must be the correct way. It must be. When like, no. There’s literally billions of people out there not doing things the way your culture does them who are doing like. Mostly fine. It’s all made up anyways. The world isn’t going to end because someone smiled at you or ate their peanuts weird.

[o-sachi]

Shidou Ryusei ‧₊˚ ⋅ Relationship Heacanons + Mini Scenario

ଳ character; shidou ryusei (blue lock) ଳ tags; sfw, gn reader, no y/n

— Slow burn? What’s that? Neither of you know the concept of it because once you found each other… there was just absolutely no letting go. I mean, you have to be the rarest catch ever to be able to match the freak of Shidou Ryusei. Everything between you happens fast.

— Fast as it is, he’ll never let you forget how much he loves you. He’s so aggressive with his loving too (good luck; you’ll need it). Frenzied kisses, hugs that squeeze the life outta you, and all the weirdly sweet compliments are some of the things you can expect from him.

— Not much of a surprise, but the love language that he likes to give and receive would be physical touch. And we know he’s freaky as hell, but the touches don’t always have to be sexual. In fact, he looooves it when you pat his head and massage his scalp. It’s literally the only time when he’s calm and quiet.

— He never takes you out on dates and you don’t complain. Well, he doesn’t take you out on the TYPICAL kinds of dates. Neither of you like dinner dates or movie nights; they’re too boring. You’d much rather go get takeout at 2 AM and eat it in the parking lot. If it’s not spontaneous, then it has to be something that leaves both of you out of breath—laser tag, amusement parks, and paintball to name a few.

— Despite being on the same wavelength, you still fight quite a lot. However, it’s never so serious that you start shouting and hurting each other emotionally. Actually… most of your quarrels are super childish. The last thing you fought about was whether or not Gege should bring Gojo back. Spoiler alert: he’s a Gojo hater.

— I can totally imagine him watching anime with you. He’s lowkey a weeb, trust. It’s actually one of the more calm moments you have with him. That is, if you consider him reacting to every little thing happening to be calm. Best believe he’s shouting at the screen at the most hype moments of the show. He Naruto runs unironically btw.

— He’s… shockingly the possessive type? Like I can imagine that it took him forever to find someone like you, so the prospect of losing you to someone else pisses him the fuck off. He won’t try to hide it too. He’ll still be all sweet with you, but when you look away—whoever tried to poach you will be facing his wrath.

— People are convinced the two of you can communicate telepathically. You can just give each other a look and you both already know what it means. Soooo many inside jokes that if someone else heard the two of you talk, they’d give you a weird look.

— People wouldn’t usually invite Shidou out, unless you would be tagging along. With you around, Shidou isn’t much of a menace. The two of you become the fun couple that livens up the gathering. In short, y’all some crazy fun.

ᯓ Dancing scenario

It was one of those lazy Sundays that the two of you would spend hanging out in your bedroom. It was unusually quiet as both of you were busy scrolling through your phones. A different audio blaring from each of your devices while you scrolled through several Tiktoks.

"Ryu, look at this one," you say, thrusting the phone into his face. "Let's do this dance."

It was one of the simpler dances you found. Everything else was too complicated for the both of you to do in synchrony. You gave him some time to watch it twice and he grins.

The way he hurriedly got off the bed was enough to let you know that he was up for it. You followed suit, preparing your phone to record the two of you dancing like idiots.

Shidou was already practicing on the side. "Heh, this is easy!" But, alas, he was doing it horribly wrong as he always did.

Finally getting the phone ready, you smirk at his silly attempt at the dance and approach him. "You got it all wrong!"

Of course, he insists that he was doing it flawlessly. But you still show him how to do it. About 15 minutes have passed before he became decent at the moves. It's not like you wanted perfection—the mediocrity of your moves makes it funnier anyway. But at the very least, you wanted him to be able to resemble the dance.

"Alright, alright, just hit the record button already. Don't be so fussy. I dance better than you do!"

You playfully glare at him. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Once the phone started recording, you hurriedly went to your place beside him. The music starts and you were able to hit the first few moves. But as you neared the end, Shidou did a different move.

"See? Who messed up first?"

He doesn't own up to it, of course. Shidou, instead, demands for a 2nd take...

then another...

then one more...

then another take...

then, you finally couldn't take it anymore because how is it possible that the more you do it—the more mistakes the both of you do? In the last take, unfortunately, you were the one who messed up.

He gave you that look and you already knew he was going to rub it in your face.

"Hah! Told you I'm the better dancer."

Oh... he did not just say that.

Without another thought, you pounced on him like a wild animal. He should be thankful that your bed caught him, otherwise he wouldn't be attending football practice tomorrow.

You were a self-proclaimed jiu-jitsu fighter when it came to playfighting with him. Well, you don't know the moves or even the name of the moves—but the point is that you have to make him tap out no matter what.

To some extent, this was your little way of showing cuteness aggression—more so the aggression part. Sometimes he just gets on your nerves and this is the only thing that appeases you.

The two of you roll around on the bed, trying to gain leverage over the other. At some point, both of you almost fell off the bed. But he caught the both of you fast enough and flung you back to the other side of the bed.

As he recovered from that, you slipped him into a chokehold. It was a light one, of course. It wasn't like you wanted him to actually pass out.

"What? Gonna tap out?"

He smirks back at your cocky expression and taps your thigh to let you know he was throwing in the towel. He gave up without much of a fight, but that was his own way of letting you know how whipped he is for you.

Shidou might not be good with words, but you fall for his actions nonetheless.

You smile triumphantly at him. "Guess that makes me the better fighter huh?"

A devilish grin stretches across his dark expression

"I demand a round 2."

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[rxmye]

I literally know nothing about church so this may come out inaccurate 🫠🫠🫠

please accept my offering

[sub! priest x obsessed! gn! reader drabble]

You’ve never really been one for religion, per say. Sure, you drove by a local church practically every morning on your way to work, and sure, most of your neighbors attended said church, but that was about it. You were too busy with your job. Almost as if you were drowning yourself in it. At this point, your dreams were lined with stacks of paperwork.

Your family and friends often told you that you shut yourself in too much. Most of your other relatives had gotten partners, settled down, had families. You were always the odd one out during family gatherings. The only one amongst family your age with nothing to your name but your work.

That took a drastic turn, however.

You’d heard fleeting talk from your neighbors about a new priest arising within the church. The only thing you could say confidently about him was that his name was Abel. Your neighbors, an elderly couple, politely brought up the topic of church after some small talk with them. You didn’t really have much work to complete, or anything to do for that matter, so you casually agreed. Maybe your parents would leave you alone then.

Sunday came all too quickly for you and before you knew it, you’d put together your ‘Sunday Best’, or at least tried to. You couldn’t say that you looked amazing, but at the very least your outfit wasn’t terrible. It was okay. Fog had covered a great deal of the morning scenery, casting a rather gloomy outlook on the neighborhood. You didn’t bother paying attention though; it was just weather, after all.

So with that, you started your car and backed out of your driveway.

When you arrived at the church, you were pleased to see your neighbors at the entrance. You made small talk here and there, and it was overall a lovely addition to your morning. You watched as more and more people pulled into the parking lot.

The morning had zipped by so fast that by the time you could blink, you’d found yourself seated on a pew in the far corners of the church, listening to who you believed to be Father Abel recite verses from the Bible.

Your palms grew clammy as his gaze lazily drifted across the room, a sense of calmness sweeping in with it. You tried your best to pay attention to what he was saying, but your efforts proved to be unfruitful as you couldn’t help but wander back to Father Abel.

You scolded yourself for being so impacted by a man you hadn’t even met with yet.

For the next couple weeks, you attended the church daily. Every Sunday you’d get dressed and make a beeline for the familiar building. Your parents had been thrilled at the news, grateful that you had found a passion for something other than work. In all honesty, you did. It felt freeing to obsess less over your job, excitement pouring in at the thought of next Sunday.

It wasn’t for the reasons your parents believed, however. On the contrary, it was something much more..questionable.

In all of your life, you’d never been so drawn to a person before. Abel. He had changed that, knowingly or not. With every coming Sunday you found yourself looking forward to seeing him again, though you would still chastise yourself to no avail. You’d end up going to church just to catch a glimpse of him. The way he talked, the way he moved with such dignity and grace had completely captivated you.

You knew it was unhealthy. You knew it was wrong. You didn’t care.

The first time Abel had looked at you—fully, not a restless gaze this time—was your fifth week at church. He had been delivering a sermon, mesmerizing the attendees with his powerful gaze. You were transfixed, in all honesty. The elegance he exuded, the concise way he spoke—you almost wanted to drown in it.

You’d been staring so intensely that by the time you realized he’d looked directly at you, he was already shifting his gaze elsewhere. You could’ve sworn that his eyes had struck a chord deep within you. Captivated.

The second time left you breathless. In the early moments of your arrival, you’d been awkwardly shuffling past the hordes of people at the door towards your usual spot in the back. It was overstimulating; the loud voices paired with the never ending footsteps was definitely something to your half-asleep figure.

Your eyes had been darting all over the place, frantic in their pursuit of whatever you’d been looking for. Abel had been up in very front of the church, as usual, simply watching the crowd enter. You’d locked gazes with him the moment he’d been scanning over the area near you. Your heart had started to pound a mile a minute and you were sure that you saw a ghost of smirk on his face.

The third time was enough for you to go into cardiac arrest. People had slowly been oozing out of the church, as the sermon had just ended. You’d stayed for just a couple more minutes, letting it soak all in.

There was a reason why you’d stayed even for just a little while longer. You’d been waiting for quite some time to just spill out what had been going on inside your home for the past weeks.

It started with dreams. They were never really clear to begin with, but it always ended with Abel. You couldn’t get the image of him out of your head. Flushed, sweaty, beautiful as he collapsed back onto the sheets. Taut skin glistening with thin sheens of sweat, ecstasy swirling in his eyes.

Then it slowly escalated to fleeting thoughts. Whether you were in the middle of work or talking to your parents over the phone, your mind would wander just for a moment. Thinking about how he would feel underneath you. How his warmth would mix with yours.

From there it climbed even higher. You’d gone from random dreams to full on fantasies. Touching him, kissing him, corrupting him, him, him, him. You tried to stop. You really did. But you were already too far gone, too deep in.

You were just getting up from your pew when you noticed Abel walking around. Then he’d approached you and started talking. The sound of his voice up close was sweeter than any bird you’d ever hear. It was nothing special. You’d anxiously tried to keep the conversation going. Until he popped the question.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

You paused. You did, truly, but at the moment you’d been granted the opportunity, you hesitated.

You looked down in shame. “…Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.”

————————————————————————

“Fuhck! Pleashe, I need it, ahhh!” He gasped, head falling back as his hair prettily framed his face. Glowing. That’s what he was. If he’d dared to curse like this during his sermons, chances are he’d be publicly condemned for such a thing. But this was no longer a priest. This was a man lost to debauchery.

He curled into his nude body as you thumbed his slit, heavy breaths escaping his throat. At this rate, he didn’t even want to be saved. Abel reveled in the feeling of your fist pumping his cock, giving him high after high after high. A part of him was embarrassed that he was losing himself to sin on a wooden pew of all places, smack in the middle of a holy place. That part was long gone.

He bucked his hips up into your hand, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt another release coming.

You kissed up his neck softly as you fucked him silly, while he moaned directly into your ear. “Are you close, baby?” You asked, stroking his length.

“Yesss,” He choked out, “Ca—uh!—can I?” He let out a shaky breath, addicted to the feeling of your body on his.

“Cum for me.” Your blunt answer sent shivers up his spine, and before he knew it, he’d been bucking up into the air again, ropes of cum coating his chest. He panted heavily, collapsing back on the pew as his eyes threatened to close.

Finally, with one heaving breath, he uttered, “Can we…can we take this to my place?”

Giggling, twirling, kicking my legs . . he seems so cute !! <3

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two

TW : Abuse of authority, alpha male, sexual harassment, the word “no” is not in this man’s vocabulary, nsfw, angst, forced proximity

After a hellish 24 hour shift, you’re starting to think you should have taken him up on his offer. Give me a foot rub then get the fuck out. However, it most definitely would not have ended at only a foot rub. You know yourself too well to think you can keep your grubby hands off that man in any sort of private, intimate setting. Yeah, you’re staying the hell away from Ludlow. 

It’s gross, but you don’t even take a shower, and pass out cold on the couch as soon as your rat's nest of hair hits the throw pillow. 

Dark, honey eyes welcome you to the land of unconsciousness. The place where you can’t control your disobedient vagina so easily. And, apparently, she liked Tom Ludlow a lot. Especially his hands. Fuck. Thick fingers, surprisingly gentle and teasing, tucking up inside you, coaxing at that sweet little spot you can’t quite get at on your own. His mouth swallowing your moans, tongue licking urgently against your teeth, practically eating you alive. Something hard and velvet pressed against your thighs. 

A loud knock wakes you up in the same position you started at. Face down on the couch, except now feeling even grosser because of the slick arousal between your legs. You stumble to the door, pull it open. It’s Ms. Higgs, your sweet next door neighbor. 

“Oh, hello, y/n, I heard…. Yelling? Is everything okay?” 

You look at her stupidly. “Yelling….?”

“Yes, it sounded like you were in distress. Sorry, is this a bad time?” She eyes your just-got-hit-by-a-semi-truck appearance, complete with gore and all. 

Oh. The dream. Oh… oh. You feel yourself freeze despite the embarrassed heat warming your skin. “Uh.” Yes, great, make her think you’re out of your mind. You try a terse smile. “Oh. Sorry. I had a long shift and I must have been having a nightmare.” 

How in the hell did you pass nursing school?

Thank God she looks like she wants to leave as soon as possible. “Right. Well.” Clears her throat. “I’m glad you’re okay. Have a good day.” She moves fast for an older woman, shutting herself back into the apartment next door before you can bid goodbye. 

Your neighbor now hates you, and you’re definitely blaming Ludlow for it. 

Shower, eat, masturbate. No, wait. Masturbate, then eat. No. Eat first so then you can masturbate as many times as it takes to get Mr. I’m a Pretty, Dark Eyed Cop With Huge Hands - 

You have to literally pinch yourself to stop this train of thought from turning into a derailed crash. 

Your plans fail miserably, and that is actually Ludlow’s fault, but you refuse to admit it. At least you’re eliminating two steps at once with the handy dandy shower head.

And then again after you eat. And then again in your bed. And, damn, you really need to invest in a vibrator like Sheila told you to do a long time ago. 

You don’t consider yourself a prude by any means; there’s just no time for adult toys or one night stands. Your job, more often than not, consumes your life, and you like it that way. The fast pace, the interesting medical anomalies you get to see, your funny coworkers, cute and oh so nice Dr. Julian who brings you all Starbucks on Sundays. You usually pick up more shifts than you’re scheduled, fueled by rising violent crime rates in the inner cities. There is a satisfaction in bringing someone back from the dead, especially someone young with their whole life ahead of them. Grim Reaper? Psh. Kiss my ass. 

***

Sometimes you need a break, and these next two days you have off are going to be that time away. 

Except, on the second day, you’re bored, so you end up going in for an eight hour shift. 

You have a bad habit of not viewing your patient’s info before you get into their exam room, favoring the ol’ fashioned method of actually looking at the person instead of a computer. As soon as you walk into your next assigned room, however, you vow to change your messy bitch ways. Handsome Cop - the one you refuse to admit you spent two full days rubbing yourself off to - sits on the cot, grinning at you like the cat that caught the mouse. 

You do feel a little bit like a tiny mouse under that hefty stare, scurrying in and going right to the computer so you don’t have to make eye contact longer than necessary - well, long enough for ruined underwear. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, did your stitches come open?” You try to maintain a strictly professional voice, but you can tell by the sharpening of his grin it’s not working. 

“What? You’re not gonna fight with me today?” 

“Do nurses fight people where you’re from?” Here you are, playing into his game. Stupid. 

“There she is.” 

Your jaw tightens. “What are you being seen for, Mr. Ludlow?”

“Ouch, surnames? Really?”

“Surprised you know what that big word means.”

His gorgeous eyebrow cocks as he looks around the monitor at you, and you tuck yourself further behind the computer to hide. 

“Okay, okay.” He puts his hands up in surrender. Well, he puts his right hand up. His left can only rise so far into the air. “Yeah, I tore them.” 

“Can you show me?” 

He strips his shirt, revealing a long, toned torso that belongs in X-rated cinema instead of bed number 3 at the South Bay General ED. 

“Have you ever heard the phrase, close your mouth or you’ll catch flies?” He asks. 

“It’s actually, shut your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” 

“Okay, how about this one: My eyes are up here, darling.”

First of all, you didn’t even look at his bare chest that much. He’s definitely exaggerating. Second of all, well - ugh - second of all fuck you, Ludlow. 

His stitches are busted open right in the middle. You have to unstick the bloody dressing carefully and then spray the center with some antiseptic. 

“You should be more careful.” Is it just you or does he smell different tonight? Less sweat and copper, more spice and cardamon.

You do your best to shake it off. Plenty of men wear cologne everyday–it doesn’t mean he got cleaned up just for you. 

“I don’t really have anyone to be careful for.”

“Get a dog?” 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“What why? I don’t know, blue?” 

“So I can pick out a collar you’ll like.” 

He’s joking, but the feral urge to jam your thumb right into his tearing wound is palpable. 

He realizes he fucked up when you don’t have a witty retort. 

“Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean that you’re a bitch.” If you’re giving him credit, he at least looks sorry. And sorry looks far too good on him. The big grinning Doberman turns into a wide eyed puppy dog and it makes your heart squeeze tighter. “I’m sorry. I just meant - hey, hey.” He tips your chin up so you can see the apology in his softened eyes. “I’m an asshole.” 

You flick his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” 

He must be hard of hearing, because he dwarfs your arm in his grip and pulls you closer. “C’Mon, little nurse. Now you have to let me make it up to you. Let me buy you a fancy dinner or something.” 

Pulling away is not an option, so you come up with a better idea. “Okay, fine. I will. If you can answer one question.”

He looks delighted by this. “Try me.”

“What’s my name?” 

You relish the sight of his smile wiping clean. The big grin transfers from his face to yours. 

“Seriously?”

“Well?” It’s your turn to raise a cocky eyebrow.

He tries to flip your badge frontward, but you slap his hand away. He’s quick, catches your wrist, pulls you closer so that your body is pressing into his calves, traps both of your hands in one of his and spins the badge so that he can see your picture and name. He repeats it, first and last, grins back with a vengeance. This little tussle really bruises your ego, because it doesn’t even seem like you made him wince or falter even once.

“Cheater,” you snarl. 

“Takes one to know one.” 

“Let me go.” 

“Make me.” 

“I’ll scream.” 

“Oh yeah you will.” He winks. 

Fucking sexy bastard. 

“Want those stitches worse or better?” You threaten. 

“I don’t really care,” he shrugs, eyes light with humor. “Just did it to come see you anyway.” 

“You tore your own stitches?” 

“No. Someone else did after I insulted their mother.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You put him back together once again (you might have to start calling this man Humpty Dumpty, that will put him in his place) and start to peel off your gloves. “So when can I pick you up?” he asks, those dark eyes shining like high-polished ebony. 

“Half past never?”

“Hey, we had a deal.”

“We did, but then you cheated. Manhandling me at work is a major disqualification.”

“Pretty sure you liked it,” he fires back with a smirk.

You sigh, propping a hand on your hip, because he’s not wrong. You’re more than a little touch starved at the moment, and you’re sure the ease with which he manhandled you will haunt your dreams (your poor neighbor!) and fuel your fantasies for weeks to come. But there’s just something about this guy that warns you not to give in this easily. He feels…a little dangerous. To your physical health, or your personal sanity, you’re not sure. 

“Please try to be more careful with your stitches, Mr. Ludlow. Have a nice day.”

Understanding that he’s being dismissed, he stands, one step in the small room bringing him right in front of you–and boy, does he tower over you. You try to conceal how very much you like that, but fear you betray yourself in the shaky exhale that escapes you. “I’m just going to keep coming back,” he tells you, seeming far too pleased by the idea. 

“For your own health, I certainly hope you don’t.”

“I’m in a dangerous line of work. All sorts of things can happen.”

You pick up what he’s putting down pretty quick, and it annoys the shit out of you. “If you get yourself hurt on purpose, that is not on me.”

“Then save me some pain, sweetheart. Didn’t you take an oath or something? Do no harm?”

“That’s doctors. I took a pledge to practice my profession faithfully–which I’m doing. Didn’t you? What happened to ‘Serve and Protect?’”

“Sure thing. And I keep my oaths too.” The weight with which he looks at you makes something warm and uncomfortable coil in your belly, radiating outwards to your fingers and toes. 

A man who keeps his promises? 

Never heard of him. 

You are too young to be this jaded, but maybe it’s better that you learned the hard lessons quicker than most. Maybe it will save you some pain in the interim. Avoiding this utterly edible man in front of you probably falls into that category. 

You stand silently, waiting for him to leave. He seems to find this funny as hell, and tips an imaginary cap down at you. “See you soon, y/n.” 

You hope not, but you’re afraid that’s a promise he’ll keep. 

[shini--chan]

The Nordic 5 - Eris, Freyja, Loki, Ra and Shiva of the Yandere Alphabet. I need some insperation to start righting again.

I hope this gives you the kickoff you need. 

From the ask game: Yandere Alphabet: Gods & Goddesses

Yandere Nordic 5 - Guidelines

Trigger warnings: stalking, kidnapping, psycho-terror, suicidal ideation, mindbreak, abuse, other yandere themes, victim blaming

Eris - What are their red lines? Are they easy to anger?

Denmark would have his triggers. Most of the time it would be infuriatingly difficult to get a rise out of him. Most of the time, he would just laugh any insults or attempts of harm off. However, there are some things that are guaranteed to generate a quick rise from him - harming yourself or earnestly injuring him. Most of the stuff outside that would be attributed to you being feisty or having an attitude. However, doing something that would require medical attention with you being the cause would evoke white-hot rage. The same would go if somebody would harm you. When in such a state, he would be neigh unreasonable and prone to violence. Expect punishments to be cooked up/ the person responsible for hurting you to be brutalised. 

Finland would be sneaky with his anger. Little what you could do would bring out the whole force of his wrath - that is reserved for greater injustices and world altering political matters. And the occasional road rage. Thus, his anger would be shown in little things, like passive aggressiveness and sarcasm and exposing you to too much salted licorice. In order to cross red lines, you would either have to side with Russia or also completely turn the tables and treat him like some colonial subject. 

Iceland would be inclined to bottling his anger up. As young and peaceful as he normally is, he wouldn't really know how to handle problems in your “relationship”. Most of the time, he would let you direct matters and play any tune you want (you may be captain of this ship, but you may never leave). However, that wouldn’t mean that everything would sit right with him. While he would communicate the one or the other grievance to you, there would be much that would be misunderstood and that he would be unable to verbalise. As such, it would fester like a sullied wound until the infection would become too aggrievious to ignore. There would be an outburst, and you as well be collateral. 

Norway wouldn’t be the best at communicating his anger so it would seep out in cold shoulders and harsh grips and leaving you without a blanket to sleep with. Lukas wouldn't offer any explanation either - you'd just have to understand that you've done something wrong and need to make amends. As for red lines - he would somehow be particularly sensitive to you throwing his romantic gestures back in his face, and for insults. Those would be met with outright slaps at times, and him even laying you over his knee to spank you. It would never go in a sexual direction, though. If you would become aroused by it, then he would switch over to humiliating you, and that wouldn't be framed in a sexual manner either. 

Sweden would be easy to anger at times though he would have a phlora of healthy coping mechanisms for that. Chopping wood would be a favourite of his, along with spear fishing. However, there wouldn't be times when he'd remove himself from the scene fast enough. Then, you would be gagged and manhandled into the next closet or bare room for a time out. If that wouldn't suffice, then blood would be spilled. Not your's of course. He would just wish for a quiet life with you (quite literally often) so he wouldn't tolerate much ruckus. 

Freyja - How official would your relationship be? Marriage with a glittering facade or their dirty little secret?

Denmark would desire a picturesque marriage with you. A small house with you and some pets, maybe an adopted child or two would be in the cards. You'd bake cakes on the weekends and he'd invite the neighbors over for a Sunday grill every now and then. In summer you'd play Badminton together on a meadow, and in winter he'd take you sailing and ice fishing. It would be an organised, quaint life. He'd just have to reprimand you behind the scenes to keep you in place, and teach you the occasional painful lesson to keep you in place. 

Finland would build the image of his relationship with you on mystery. Mysteriousness enhances attractiveness and, in his case, credibility. Little hints would be dropped here and there, selectively of course, to shape the image of a streamy and loving relationship. Thus, if you were ever to escape or also try to enlist the aid of somebody that knows/knows of him, you'd likely fail. There would only be few that would know of his darker sides. 

Iceland wouldn't present his relationship nor would he hide it. He just wouldn't have the energy to conceal everything while also not wanting to suffer the unsolicited advice that people are prone to giving. Besides, he would have difficulty navigating this new relationship (i.e making sure you behave) that he just wouldn't be able to find it himself to completely control the public narrative on you. Besides, he would be too selfish to really let you out, so the chances of you going out as a couple and being recognised as such would be very low. 

Norway would squirrel you away to never be seen again. You could just as well have been swallowed by the earth or kidnapped by fairies. As possessive and obsessive as he is, he wouldn't tolerate other people knowing about you, if it can be avoided. If other people are aware of your whereabouts, then they might seek you out. Or worse, they could try to take you away from him. No way in the world would he tolerate that. 

Sweden would prefer to keep your relationship as private as possible. Letting other people have relationships with you would only complicate matters, and thus, he would only let you see and be with him. Other people would be completely prohibited from interacting with you. Should outsiders catch wind of his relationship and request to meet you, then he would cook up excuses like you struggling with trauma or social anxiety and therefore not being in the right state of mind to meet other people. 

Loki - Could you manipulate them and if yes, how so?

Denmark would be surprisingly easy to manipulate in a certain sense. You see, you would be deemed as mostly harmless by him and thus manipulation wouldn't come to mind during most of your interactions. As such, and if you're sufficiently good at acting, then you could really push him into doing what you want him to do. Just pair your spiels with affection or tears and his heart would melt. He'd even let you set up situations where you could escape - he would love the chase after all. 

Finland would allow you to push him around as long as you'd abide by the playground rules. Prodding him to do the one or the other thing for you would be taken graciously and with amusement. Timo would have nothing against small manipulations and would give you lee way in order to make you feel more comfortable with him. Additionally, it would be more comfortable for him to not have to constantly keep his guard up and weigh your every other word. However, if you'd push too far or also too fast, then the walls would shoot up and he'd put his foot down. 

Iceland would loath the idea of being manipulated. As such he would be weary and on guard more often than not. Despite how he would detest admitting it, he would be conscientious of the fact that you two wouldn't have a healthy relationship. Witnessing you trying to manipulate would set him off and he'd fly off the handle. That being said, he would be awkward and unsure about himself, so should be able to get some bs past the radar. 

Norway would be partially angry at you for putting him in this situation (really, he would blame you for him kidnapping you and say that you're making him abuse you) and you trying to manipulate him would fit exactly in the role of the deceiving minx he'd see you as. Therefore, many avenues for manipulation would be blocked from the get go. That being said, his image of you would serve as a corner myth for your relationship and if you'd act outside his concrete view of you, then it would either confuse him or not compute at all. You could use this to your advantage. 

Sweden wouldn't even present much opportunity for manipulation, and even if, then it wouldn't matter most of the time. The environment would be chosen by him and he would set the tune. In chance of you getting a foot in the door, then he would be well versed enough in diplomacy and politics to bat your attempts aside.

Ra - Would they stalk you? How closely would you be watched while under their care?

Denmark would refrain from stalking you on a large part and rather insist you spend as much time as possible with him. Before the two of you would enter that phase, he would scout you out by gently inquiring about you during conversations with your loved ones. Later, it would transition over into dates or hang-out, if possible. Largely, he would come over as an enthusiastic and overly loving boyfriend. Perhaps he would manage to play his cards carefully enough that his charm would blind you from seeing all the red flags. To reiterate - he wouldn’t stalk you and even later on, he wouldn’t keep a very close eye on you.  

Finland would stalk you to scare you. Many a time he would be capable of concealing his presence fully and not leaving a trace. However, he would purposefully leave clues to his doings - not enough to know who would be stalking you, only enough to let you know that you’re being stalked. This would be a form of psychological terror that he would relish in inflicting on you. This man would live for your skittish movements and fear-driven stupidity. Later on, he would watch you closely as a form of entertainment and continue messing with you on a semi-regular basis. As much as he would want you to become comfortable with him, he wouldn’t want matters to become boring. 

Iceland would pine after you, and in many ways act like an awkward teenage boy. It would also be what would allow him to get away with most of his stalking, since many people would consider it more amusing than concerning. Afterwards, in his care, you would often catch him staring at you only to look away hastily once you make your awareness of it apparent. Emil would be the sort to watch you sleep and gather all your loose hair. With the latter, he’d even stuff a pillow so that he would always be close to you in his sleep, even when you’re locked in a closet for punishment. 

Norway would be near dismissive with his attention here. Lukas would try to resist the temptation only to be sucked in later on and fully commit to stalking you while completely blaming you. During the times he’d follow you and watch you, his head would be filled with obscenities and he’d curse you and your family line. He’d be like an addict that can’t shake off their addiction and would place the blame on everybody but himself. In the case of you being imprisoned by his hand, he would keep a careful eye on you. The reason he’d give you would be to make sure you behave yourself. This would be a lie that he’d tell himself in order to sleep easily. 

Sweden wouldn’t stalk you as much as he would consider you. This would also be him trying to squash his feelings by pointedly refusing to check you out, to stalk you or to privately inquire about you. Therefore, kidnapping you would really come out of the blue. Afterwards, he would commonly stare at you from the corners of his eyes, or use mirrors to watch you. That way, he’d be able to seem somewhat normal and also have some plausible deniability should you ever call him out on his behaviour. 

Shiva - Would they break you? What would cause them to do so?

Denmark would at most break you through wear and tear. Or you would invoke his anger a few too many times. It is important to note here that Matthias would be a very intense person towards you, and it wouldn’t be surprising if his passion would burn you. Having to comply with his demands and whims day in and day out, or also having to fight against him and be disregarded could very well result in you becoming … burned out. He wouldn’t even dial down his personality unless somebody would intervene or also absorb most of his attention. 

Finland wouldn’t break you if he could avoid it. Where would the fun in that be? Besides, he wouldn’t really know what to do with the empty shell of a person. This is funny since he would be the most likely to break you out of everybody on this list by the virtue of his antics. He would do his best to build you back up before you would break, however, so that he could resume his nonsense. 

Iceland would fumble you at the most. This young man wouldn’t have a very good handle on his emotions. Mind you, this is no justification, simply an explanation of what it would lead to. Rebelling against him and sticking to your guns would cause him to retaliate, and thus a resonation of violence would begin which would likely culminate in either one of you breaking. That, or he would take a punishment or a precaution too far, or act out of desperation and then shatter you. It would be something that he would deeply regret and never forgive himself for. 

Norway would break you as a form of revenge. This is a man that could switch between reverence and disgust. Should the coin land with disgust facing upwards then he might go as far as to shatter you. You would be blamed for making him fall so far and those you would have to be punished for your transgressions. Breaking you would mean robbing you of your wiles, and in his anger, he might see that as the best path to take. 

Sweden would only do so accidently. As mentioned before, he would just wish to lead a quiet life with you and if you would disturb that peace, then he would bring the hammer down. Should he fly off the handle, then he might go too far. Or, the circumstances would slowly corrode at your sanity and he would be in denial of his mistreatment until it would be too late. That being said, he might decide to break you if you’re suicidal - a measure to stop you from taking your own life. 

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Your Personal Bodyguard: Part Two

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: sexual tension is HIGH, trying to get jensen jealous

Summary: Since it's clear Jensen isn't going anywhere, you try to live your life as best as you can. You're invited to a frat party that you have to drag Jensen along, and you have the perfect plan to rile him up. If you can't get rid of him, then may as well fuck him.

read part one here: Your Personal Bodyguard

Square Filled: free space (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

x

All your past bodyguards always gave you some bit of wiggle room in fear you’d complain to your dad and get them fired. Granted, none of them looked and acted like Jensen. If they had, you’d have treated them very differently. Jensen is the kind of man not to take shit from anyone, so he always has a plan or a comeback for whatever you throw at him.

What happened at that party was a one-time thing. He never let you out of his sight, especially when your dad found out about it. You got yelled at and punished for two weeks, and in those two weeks, you and Jensen became the best of friends. Not literally. He annoyed you every which way to Sunday while you had to sit there and take it like a spoiled kid.

Now you’re back at school, and much like you predicted, Jensen is there to follow you everywhere. The first few classes were awkward since there was a grown man sitting in the back of the classroom, however, the teachers were all warned beforehand by your dad’s team that this was going to happen. By the third class, you ignored him the best you could but his breath was a constant on the back of your neck.

It’s lunchtime or the biggest break you have between classes. Jensen is following behind you like some creeper as you walk inside the big cafeteria. There are a bunch of options to choose from, most of which are big brand fast food places you’d see while driving in town. You stop walking and turn to Jensen with an annoyed look on your face.

“You know, if you insist on following me everywhere I go, then you can at least act like you know me instead of following me around like a fucking creeper.”

Jensen chuckles at this. He’s always loved your smart mouth. If he’s being honest, it’s been in one too many of his dreams. If he’s being truly honest, he’d like to fuck that attitude out of you. He’s not going to do that, not even if you were to beg… maybe.

“Not my rules, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you glare and get in line at your favorite food place.

“Whatever you say… sweetheart.”

You resist an eyeroll at this. He’s proven that he’s not going anywhere no matter how much you try getting rid of him. You order your food and find a table in the corner, perfect for being alone. Except Jensen is here and he isn’t leaving. Jensen didn’t get anything to eat but you’re not going to sit here and eat while he stares at you. You grab one of the burgers you ordered for him and slide it over.

“Eat. Don’t be creepy.”

Jensen takes the burger without a word and starts eating. The entire place is filled with chatter among students but one couple stands out because the woman’s laugh is so distinctive. You look over to see her snuggled up to her man as they joke about anything and everything. The look on your face becomes a longing one, one that catches Jensen’s attention. He turns to see what you’re looking at and he shakes his head as he turns back around.

“Relationships are messy.”

You want one. You want a man to look at you like you’re his world. Like he’d do anything to keep you happy, satisfied, and honest. You want to be able to go to bed with someone and wake up next to them. To have late-night drives or stay up into the early hours of the morning just talking. You don’t get to have that. Not with your dad doing what he does.

“What do you know? You’re a bodyguard.”

“I wasn’t always one. I was a somebody before all of this. I had a fiance who died in a mugging. I was with her and she still died. I vowed to never let that happen to anyone else. Now I’m here. You’re not the first person I had to protect.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sigh, feeling like an ass.

“It’s not your problem to worry about.” That’s enough light into Jensen’s past, so he changes topics. “What, does your dad not let you have boyfriends?”

“I’ve had a few but they never lasted a few months. They either find out who my dad is and what he does, get scared, and leave or they mistreat me once and my dad sics a bodyguard onto them. Love isn’t in the cards for someone like me, I guess.”

“It’ll happen. You have to be patient. You��re twenty. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head and finish your food. “My dad is preparing me to take over his business. Soon I’ll be deep in mafia business. I won’t have time for love anyway.”

After lunch, you have one more class before you get to go home. As you’re heading out to Jensen’s car, your best friend of eighteen years stops you. Jensen understands you two want privacy so he steps off to the side but is close enough to you just in case you need him.

“Is that your bodyguard?” Chelsea gasps.

“Don’t get attached. I’m still trying to get rid of him,” you sigh.

“When you do, send him my way.” You both chuckle at her obvious joke. “So, Tyler is having a party with his frat buddies. He’s invited me and I’m inviting you. You need to come.”

“If I go, he goes,” you point to Jensen who waves at her. “Do you really want him to be the only older guy at the party?”

“He’ll suck it up. You have to go. Who else will help me hook up with Ty?”

“Fine, I’ll go. It gives me an excuse to go shopping.”

“Yes. I’ll text you the details. I gotta go. I’ll see ya!”

She bounces away happily and Jensen makes his way over to you.

“I’m assuming you heard everything she said. You’re pretty good at eavesdropping, you know that?”

“You’re making me go to a party?”

“I’m twenty. I need to have these pivotal moments that will otherwise shape my character.”

“You’re going to a party with booze and sex. How is that shaping your character?”

“I’ll get better at taking down booze and better at receiving sex,” you smirk and walk off.

“Like hell you are,” he says in a deep voice and follows after you.

Whatever you want, you get (relatively speaking). If you tell your dad you’re going shopping for a party, he’ll tell you to bring Jensen and leave it at that. Jensen has no say whether you get to go to the mall or not. When you get to the mall, the first store you go to is one of the most expensive ones there. Your dad, being a mafia boss, has almost unlimited money. He has an account with millions in it just for you.

“Okay, if we’re both going to this party, we’re both going to need a new change of clothes. Don’t worry, I’ll be your sugar mama for today. We’re getting you party ready.”

“Don’t count on it,” he mumbles. There are a few dresses that catch your eye so you practically throw them in Jensen’s arms before moving on to the next. “You know, I’m a bodyguard, not a personal assistant.”

“My dad told you to be whatever I need, and right now, I need someone to carry all these clothes. Unless, of course, you don’t want to do this. In which you’re more than welcome to leave.”

“Nice try, sweetheart, you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

Once you have enough dresses, you head to the dressing room to try them on. After every fitting, you show off to Jensen who is being respectful and sitting outside the dressing room. The first two dresses didn’t compliment your body type, the third one didn’t go with your skin tone, and the fourth one was too small. The fifth dress is a bit more revealing than the others which is perfect.

It’s a black very deep V-neck dress that is backless. The only thing covering your breasts is the four-finger wide piece of fabric that meets each other at the base of the V. The bottom of the dress only goes to your mid-thigh, and the entire thing is sparkly. This is the perfect dress for a frat party. It fits perfectly, and it shows off the curve of your breasts leaving little to the imagination.

“Okay, this is the last one. What do you think?” you ask and walk out wearing it. The first thing Jensen does is mutter a quiet “fuck” before laughing to cover it up. “What’s so funny?”

“That you think you’re wearing that to the party.”

“Why not? Maybe you’re right. Maybe love is in the cards for me. Maybe I’ll get lucky there.”

“Not with me around you won’t.”

“Don’t be so sure,” you roll your eyes.

You head back into the dressing room but ten seconds later, Jensen barges in and pins you to the wall. His towering height is intimidating, especially if you’re already turned on.

“You can do so much better than some college boy who has no business putting his hands on you.”

“Whose gonna do it? You?” you chuckle.

You turn around to take it off whether he’s in here or not but Jensen isn’t done with you. He places a hand on the wall to your left, preventing you from going anywhere. Has his hands always looked so rough? The veins on his hand and arm are evident, and those are some of your weaknesses.

Jensen’s other hand ghosts over your back to the tie that holds the upper part of the dress on your body.

“If you were mine, I’d spend hours getting to know your body… to know what you like and what you don’t. Then, only when I have you begging for me, maybe I’ll give you that sweet relief you’re craving.”

A rush of butterflies fly down to your pussy. Damn, this man really knows how to get you going, but the last thing you’re gonna do is let him know that. You turn your head to look at him without turning your body and smirk.

“I don’t beg.”

Jensen chuckles as his right hand contracts into a fist. He’s resisting touching you right here and now. He leaves the dressing room quickly, leaving you confused and wanting. Fuck trying to get rid of him, you just want to fuck him. The best way to do that is to rile him up, and this dress clearly achieved that. Once you pick out the dress you want (while sneaking in the black sparkling dress), you get clothes for Jensen that are semi-appropriate for a frat party.

The party isn’t until the weekend but that doesn’t mean you can’t conduct your plan right away. For the rest of the week, you and Jensen kept playing the “Will He, Will She” game. You’d do something to rile Jensen up, he’d say something that gets you wet, and then he’d leave you wanting more. Then the cycle starts up again.

By the time the party came, it’s not a question of will Jensen fuck you, it’s a question of when and where. You’re wearing the short black dress underneath a long coat so that Jensen can’t see what it is. Luckily he hasn’t asked to see your outfit so that when he pulls up to he party, you can get his raw reaction to it.

Chelsea is waiting for you at the front door, and she waves you down when she sees you.

“I’m glad you could make it!” She looks at your long coat and gives you a weird look. “What are you wearing.”

“Just give it a second,” you whisper as you walk up the steps.

The door opens and Tyler’s best friend, Jason is standing there with a smile.

“Welcome in ladies… man…?”

“Don’t worry, he’s cool,” you quickly say. “Do you have a place where I can put my coat?”

“Oh, I’ll take it.”

You turn to face Jensen and stare into his eyes as you take off your coat. His eyes rake down your body in the revealing black dress he specifically told you not to wear. His fists clench at his sides to prevent him from making a scene. Chelsea chuckles to the right of you now understanding why you were wearing that coat. You turn to Jason with a smile and hand over your coat.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Drinks in the kitchen. Have fun.”

“You’re pushing it,” Jensen whispers to you as you enter the house.

“Pushing what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say innocently.

“Hey, if you see Tyler, let me know. Tonight might be the night,” Chelsea grins.

“You got it. Keep your phone on you.”

You two break off with her going to search out her crush while you and Jensen go to the kitchen. There are a lot fewer people in there since it’s small but it’s still crowded. There are shots lined up on the table so you take two and down them both. Jensen places his hands on the kitchen island and catches your eyes.

“Slow down.” While maintaining eye contact, you grab another shot and down it. Jensen’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes because he’s not amused. You’re very immature and he’d love nothing more than to put you in your place. “Keep it up, sweetheart.”

“Loosen up, Jensen. Dance!”

You wiggle your ass as you make your way to the dance floor. Jensen needs to be laser-focused on you to prevent what happened at the other party. There are a lot of people who would love nothing more than to kidnap the daughter of a mafia boss, especially if they think she’s inebriated.

You sway your hips along to whatever song is playing. You’re putting a show on for Jensen knowing he is standing in the corner just watching you. After the third song, you’re about to go get another drink when you feel hands on low on your waist. You look up to see one of the frat boys enjoying his time with you.

This is perfect. This is how you’re gonna get Jensen to break. You look over at Jensen to see his eyes narrowed on you and this other man. You push your ass back into the man’s cock and grind to give him a little something-something. The man grabs your thighs and moves his hands up and under your dress.

That’s what makes Jensen bounce into action. He pushes back the crowd of students and grips the man’s shoulder tightly.

“Beat it, kid. She’s taken.”

Jensen is already pulling you away without hearing the man’s response.

“Taken, huh?” you giggle.

Jensen takes you to an isolated part of the house where there isn’t anyone around, and he pins you to the wall angrily. His right hand wraps around your throat, not tightly but just enough to remind you it’s there, and his left hand slams against the wall next to you.

“Is this a game to you?”

“I’m just having a good time.”

“I can show you a better time than he can.” He removes his left hand from the wall and slides it between your thighs right where you want him. You’re wearing thin panties so he can feel how wet you are even through the fabric. He rubs your panties with a smirk not missing the way you gasp quietly. “You’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you. Is this all for me?”

“No, it’s for him,” you smirk defiantly.

Jensen chuckles darkly, sending another wave of pleasure straight to your core.

“Be careful, little dove. You don’t want me fucking this attitude out of you because I won’t be gentle.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

Jensen pulls away from you completely, making you want more from him.

“Oh no, sweetheart, good girls get fucked. Bad girls get punished. I’m not going to touch you, not until you beg me to.” You open your mouth to respond but he’s quicker. “Yeah, I know, you don’t beg. You will when I’m done with you. Come on, we’re leaving the party.”

He walks away without another word, and you open your mouth in shock. He’s definitely not like the other boys you’ve dated. He’s a man and he’s not afraid to show it to you. Maybe getting rid of him isn’t the best idea.

You might have met your match.

x

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[serenefreakgeekao3]

Apricity

[Table of Contents]

CHAPTER TEN, Resultance

Day 33/34, Sunday night / Monday morning

The sun shines brilliantly off of Newt's golden hair, lighting the spot in the field that the man was grazing, pulling weeds and plucking something or other from the tops of the growing crops. He looked peaceful, standing there with a content smile, just going about his day as if farming wasn't the most boring thing in the entire world. The only reason you had even made it through one day was because you had picked play-fights with him, throwing random weeds and clumps of dirt at his apron, trying to make it into his front pocket like it was some sort of game. He had laughed- and by the creators that laugh- and deigned to throw some from his basket right back at you. He'd, of course, had more in his basket than yours. But you could tell he was going slower than normal to begin with, so he wouldn't speed ahead and leave you in his literal dust. 

Now, however, you were off work. You were working with Gally now, who was just too sweet no matter what anyone else said. You could see why Ben liked the man, he had a soft spot for people in need, even with his gruff exterior. You let your eyes scan the Glade lazily, looking for Ben through the throng of people. It wasn't until you scanned the whole Glade that you remembered he was a Runner, and his day off didn't coincide with yours. You saw him every time he was off, though. He would always visit Gally and follow him around like a little puppy dog, not working with him but watching him work. Considering Gally said you were 'still in training,' that meant he sat nearby you constantly as well. 

You were sitting atop one of the lunch tables, letting your feet dangle off of the side while leaning back on your hands behind you. You suddenly feel the wood under you begin to shake and rattle as someone jumps up onto the table, and you let your head fall backwards to lazily look at Thomas, his upside-down face smiling at you and leaning in awfully close. You can see the sun dance across his eyelashes, making his darker brown eyes alight enough that they seem to melt in swirls- although that could be because your head is rather inverted right now.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" He questions, and you laugh softly as you stare into his mesmerizing earthen eyes. You feel connected, in an odd way- in a way you would've never expected given that you're not from this universe. The thought always sends a jolt of panic through you, but you're tired and languid today, and the thought just coasts away just as easily as the fake, puffy clouds above do. 

"You." Your answer is plain and causes a scoff and an eye roll from Thomas.

"I meant, what were you looking at?" You lift your head back up, letting your eyes scan the Glade once more before they, inevitably, land back on Newt. You feel the wood underneath you shimmer and shake, and as you feel a tap on your right upper arm, you casually scoot over enough that Thomas can take a seat next to you, copying your position.

"Newt." Your answer is once again short and to the point. You catch Thomas giving you a quick glance from the corner of your eye, but he turns his head away just as fast before you even begin to consider looking back. Newt bends down, causing the sunlight to glint off of his head at a certain angle, and Thomas raises one hand to block the sun from his eyes before slapping the hand back down once again.

"That all?" Thomas mumbled, though you could hear a hint of something in his voice. You try to parse it out, but the time has passed and he's no longer saying anything else. Plus, you feel really rather tired at the current moment. You've had a long first couple of days of working for Gally, who seems ready to work you to the bone. You'd even thought about just heading over for a day of sleep, but the thought of watching Newt work peacefully felt more compelling at the time. 

"He's rather beautiful, isn't he?" Your voice is only a whisper as you say this, and you don't want to turn your head so you try to watch Thomas from the corner of your eye. He doesn't turn either, or act surprised that you had said as much. He almost seems contemplative, tilting his head back and forth before sighing and nodding slowly.

"Yeah." 

You don't expect to get anything else out of him, so you finally push yourself up from your straining arms. You turn on the table, lifting one leg on top so you can face Thomas fully. The man looks over at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and with want of anything else to do, you raise a hand and poke at his muscled arm. "You're a different kind of beautiful, though." You pinch the edge of his sleeve between your fingers, feeling the thin, worn threads and wondering for how long he's been forced to wear this ratty thing. There were little moth-eaten holes along the edges of both his sleeves and the bottom hem, and you wonder whether the creators even care as much about this project anymore. It's been a lot longer than anyone would've expected by this point, you assumed. Especially since this current timeline was nothing like the actual books or movies.

"Yeah?" Thomas repeats himself, though with surprise instead of suppressed longing. You raise your gaze back up to his eyes, letting your hand drop away from his sleeve and land atop his closest hand. You feel his rough skin under your touch, letting your fingers gently graze along his scars and calluses. You nod slowly, staring into his now shadowed eyes as he tilts his head downward toward you- and you only just realize he's beginning to lean in closer. 

"Tommy," You begin, feeling the name like a weight on your tongue, like something only one person should be able to say yet here you were, copying Newt when it comes to Thomas, and copying Thomas when it comes to Newt. Who were you to get in the middle of them? "Do you think…" You trail off, letting your eyes unfocus and see through Thomas, your smile settling and numbing into a neutral expression on your face. "Do you think you could find yourself, find love, when you get out of here?" You blink yourself back into reality- this reality, anyway- and let your eyes meet with his confused ones. "Do you think you could let yourself?"

"What," Thomas leans forward even more, taking his free hand from the other side of him and pushing himself onto his side to face you, moving the hand to cup your cheek. "What do you mean? Let myself?" You bite your lip as you stare into his befuddled expression, leaning ever-so-slightly into his hand. 

"Tommy," Your whisper is even quieter now, but you can tell he can still hear you. If anything, the way he's so intensely focused on your lips could prove that he'd read them if the sound didn't quite reach his ears. "Let yourself fall. Let yourself have him. It'll make everything so much easier if you have someone to lean on." You raise your hand from its resting place on his own, brushing your fingers through his hair and trying to straighten it into something resembling order, although it was a fool's errand. "You're not alone. In here, or out there."

Thomas drops his hand suddenly, as if burned by your words. You watch him swallow roughly, then turn away and retake his leaned-back position, staring off into space. You continue your light grooming, brushing your fingers through his messy hair and combing it back out of his face. You figured if he wanted you to stop, he'd say so or stop your hand, so you continue on. It wasn't just calming for you, you come to realize, as his shoulders slowly fall from around his neck.

"You know what I did, don't you?" Thomas glances at you for a moment, but it seems like looking at you is too painful so he turns his gaze away once again, downcast.

"You didn't do anything they didn't force you to do."

"How could you even know that?"

You're silent for a few beats, waiting for him to realize. As he sucks in a breath, you believe he remembers your quiet talk from not too long ago, when you had told him you knew of Wicked. He blows his breath back out slowly, raising his shining gaze toward you. You drop your hand from his hair, rubbing a thumb across his cheek and swiping a tear away before anyone else can see it. You lean in close, wrapping your arms around him in a much-needed hug, turning your head to whisper into his ear.

"You're deserving of love, Tommy."

There's talking around you… Quiet whispers, like they're trying to be polite and maintain the status quo so you can stay restful. But- no, you can't. You can't quite remember why, but you need to get up. You need to be up, and- and running. You need to get away, it's not safe, it's not safe-

You groan, and finally something has happened. It's like you're trapped in your own body, but you're slowly gaining your senses back, your facilities back. You try to move your fingers, curl them into a ball, but it's hard. It's getting easier. You groan again, this time aloud, apparently. 

“I get that you don’t wanna sleep, but you don’t have to make all that racket, Tommy.” 

You try to wiggle your toes, and you feel that tingling sensation that comes when you've sat on your foot for too long and it needs to reawaken itself. You try to wince from the feeling but your face doesn't want to work. You're starting to get annoyed- this is your body, you should be able to move it. That's when it finally registers in your brain, the sound that you'd heard were words. They were Newt's words, Newt's voice- that meant he was here. You needed to see him, why was he in the maze?

"That wasn't me."

The maze! That's right, what happened in the maze? You groan again as images flood your mind's eyes, flashing too fast for you to comprehend, though you don't need to. You lived through it all, you remember. It's too much all at once, and you raise your arm, moving your hand to your face to rub your eyes roughly. When that doesn't stop the images, you open them slowly, blearily. You rest your elbow on the cot and begin to push yourself up to a lean, heavily enough on one side that you drop the other arm back down, leaning then on both elbows. You blink a few times, then look at your surroundings.

You were in the Medjack's hut- that much was for certain, you could tell that even in the dead of night. You'd been here before when it was just as dark before, though with different company. This time, however, your eyes land on Newt, sitting to your left in a rickety, can't-be-comfortable chair, a large book spread across a leg that was draped over the other's knee. His mouth was agape, his eyes hopeful, and it felt like too many emotions to deal with all at once. To your right, on top of another cot but sitting straight up as if ready to spring into action, was Thomas. He looked just as surprised, though not quite as hopeful. He almost looked… Angry? You glance back at Newt one last time before dropping your gaze to your lap, feeling ashamed.

"Sorry…"

"For what?"

"You better be."

They both spoke at the same time, though what surprised you the most was that it was Newt's voice indicating that you should be sorry. Thomas, with his angered expression, didn't seem to understand what you were apologizing for. You keep your eyes lowered as you hear Thomas begin to stammer, likely since Newt shot him a quick glare for his words. "I- I mean," Thomas starts, then just never finishes his sentence. You look up slowly, watching the boys stare at each other as if silently communicating something, before Newt slams his textbook closed, turning his full attention to you. He stands, walking closer to the head of your bed, laying the book down on your nightstand and leaning just slightly over the bed to get a better look at you.

"Are you alright?" You weren't quite expecting those words, at least not so soon following his last ones, and you struggled to keep up with where his mind might be at. You blink a few times, then take a deep breath and look down at your body. You wiggle your toes, watching them move, and raise a hand to feel at your stomach. Nothing hurts- not even your ankle, which you would've assumed would be even worse off than when you first injured it. Confused, you look back up to Newt.

"I- I think so."

"Good," Newt begins, then slaps the side of your arm roughly. You flinch away, staring up at him incredulously. You could hear aggravated cot springs to your right, and you figured Thomas was getting up to get closer to the both of you, but you didn't dare take your eyes off of Newt right now. He looked murderous. "How dare you do something like that to us! How- How dare you just run off into the maze without so much as a good-bye, and then-" He swallows, and you can hear the emotion in his voice, the tinge of anger and sadness and anxiety that you know you put there yourself. "And leave this- this stupid, bloody, shucking letter-" He pulls a square from his pocket, flinging it back and forth as if to unravel it quickly before throwing it down with force onto your bed. It was just a lightweight piece of parchment, however, so it didn't land with even a fraction of the force he used to throw it down with. He places both hands down on your cot, leaning over it and breathing heavily. "Saying you- what, you'd rather die than spend another day in the Glade with us?"

"No," You're quick to defend, shaking your head and widening your eyes, and you can feel tears spring to them but you try to blink them back. This isn't about your feelings, you did this to them- to him. What you feel doesn't matter right now. "No, of course not. I just couldn't bear another second of knowing how to get out of this stupid fucking hell-hole, watching you day by day just give up more and more. I know how to get you out, Newt. I wanted to help!"

"I don't want out if it's not with you!" He yells, and you suck in a breath, the tears blurring your vision until you blink them away, feeling the trails of warmth flow down your cheeks. Thomas has finally made his way around your cot at this point, encircling Newt's shoulders with one arm and pulling him in against his chest. Newt coughs out a sob, turning and burying his face into Thomas' chest. You can feel yourself gaping, your mouth opening and closing like a poor imitation of a fish on land, and you meet Thomas' eyes now that you can no longer see Newt's. He's not angry any longer, you can see in his eyes, but there are questions there that you know you'll have to answer at some point. Whether he's told Newt about Wicked or not- that'll be the deciding factor of whether it's now or later.

"Newt," You whisper, after waiting for his cries to quiet. When he doesn't turn, you can feel your heart twisting and ripping in your chest. "Newt, please." He slowly pulls away from Thomas, and you can see him raise his head enough- and in turn Thomas turns his gaze away from you finally- and their locked eyes must give him enough strength to carry on. He raises a hand to rub roughly at his face, wiping away his own tears before he finally turns back around to face you. He sighs out slowly, then lets his gaze travel over your form before resting on your face once again. He isn't meeting your eyes, rather letting his own eyes rest on your lips, but he reaches out and takes one of your hands into his own.

"Tell me your story, [Y/N]."

You bite your lip, glancing at Thomas and then around the room in search of something. In search of that blinking red light that revealed that Wicked was watching. Except- it's been so long now, hasn't it? They could've developed who-knows-what at this point, they could be watching right now. Was it safe to talk about? Would it ever be safe to talk about? You let your gaze wander back to Newt with a wince, then glance over to Thomas as if pleading with him to understand. Somehow, you think he does. He reaches forward, placing a hand on his forearm and leaning in even closer.

"Newt, I don't know if now is the time."

"Now is most certainly the time, Tommy. I'm not waiting another moment."

"You-" He stutters as Newt turns a sharp glare onto him, but presses forward regardless. "You might need to wait just one more moment. Long enough for us to know that they aren't listening." Newt's face relaxes in understanding, turning back to look at you with an appraising look. Thomas turns to look at you as well, and the way they both stare at you soothes the ache that had been there not but a moment before. Like you were their whole world, just laying there on a medical cot. 

"Is there anywhere we could do that?"

It's silent again between the three of you, and you wrack your brain for something- anything. And that's when it finally hits you. It might be a long shot, but as far as you knew Gally hadn't told hardly anyone else about that spot. 

"I think I know a place."

You move to get up, pulling the blanket aside and tossing your legs over the left side of your bed. You sit there for a moment, dizziness overtaking you, and you watch Newt reach forward as if to catch you when you wobble unsteadily. You blink a few times, waiting for your vision to return fully before glancing upward. Newt and Thomas took a few steps to the side, as if to give you space to stand, though before you have a chance your hand slips when your gaze lands on another body.

It could only be Chuck, with that body shape under the blanket, and that head of hair at the top. You swallow roughly, turning your head first toward the boys before letting your eyes finally separate from Chuck. You look at them questioningly, and Newt nods, Thomas speaking up quietly.

"He's alright. He woke up earlier, during the day. He's just resting more now, but he's perfectly fine. Something in that blue serum healed him- both of you, it seems, completely." You nod slowly, trying to ingrain his words into your mind so you can calm the worry that spiked from seeing him- from remembering. You push yourself to a stand, and you feel a hand on your shoulder from Newt, and another hand on your waist from Thomas who reaches past Newt to help as well. You can't help the smile that comes to your face from their attempt to help, and you want to lean into them but you need to see for yourself. 

You take a step away from their grasp, closer to Chuck's cot. You let yourself lean against it, leaning over Chuck's sleeping body to take a peek at his face. It's covered by his mounds of curled hair, so you reach over and gently pull it to the side. His face is peaceful at rest, something you've always found comforting every time you catch him napping during the day on his days off. You study his sleeping face for a few more moments, watching as his body rises and falls from his breath, before letting his hair drop right back out of your grasp. You turn toward the boys, giving them a soft but guilty smile. "Alright. I'm ready."

It was rather easy to find Gally's secret little hide-away bunker, considering it was at the very corner of the Glade inside the Deadheads. As you circle around what looks to be just a little hill, you come across the flat metal doors of the bunker you knew would be there. It's tied together by some sort of hempen rope, likely just to keep the door closed as it's not very hard to pull the rope out from between the handles. Gally was probably worried if he ever locked it then it would practically become useless when the time came. You drop the rope to the ground, taking one last look around.

You'd been keeping an eye out this whole time, and you thought at one point you saw a blinking flash of red, but it sped in the direction of the Medjack hut, and you hoped that Wicked was too tired and oblivious to notice the three of you heading into the woods. It didn't seem like the rest of the Glade noticed, anyway, considering the majority of them were asleep under their little overhang across the way. You don't notice any more blinking red lights, and your eyes land on Thomas who seems to be doing the same sort of sweep. Once his eyes land on you, and you receive a nod in affirmation that he didn't spot anything either, you pull open the doors and make your way down into the dark hole. While you still had enough light bouncing off of the giant walls into the hole, you located where Gally put the matches and lit a small lantern, just in time for Thomas to close the doors behind the three of you.

You hang the lantern along one of the ropes covering the ceiling, letting it sway above the three of you as you take a seat on a random box nearby. You only realize after you sit that it's the same box you had sat on before, back when Gally had shown you to this spot and became surprisingly vulnerable with you. You shake the memory away, looking up as Newt gingerly takes a seat, sitting on the edge of a box like he's ready to jump up at any moment, but also like he's trying to give you space to be able to speak freely. Thomas, predictably, is too restless to sit, but he does take a few steps away so he's not pacing between the two of you.

"Alright, so…" You begin, but you're not quite sure where to start. Luckily, Newt seems to pick up on that, and he digs out a square piece of folded parchment from his pocket- the letter he had thrown at you not too long ago. You must've missed when he picked it right back up and pocketed it once again. Thomas must've as well, from the surprised look he dons.

"Let's start with this." He tosses it onto the ground between you, and you bite your lip. Truthfully, you barely remember what you even wrote, considering you were in a rush to get it all out before the doors started to close. You blink down at it, then raise your gaze back up to Newt. He gestures toward it with a sigh. "You go ahead and read it, take it step by step. You don't have to read it aloud, I've memorized the words by now." That takes you by surprise, but you heed his advice and push yourself from the box you sit on just long enough to stretch and snatch it from the dirt-covered ground, brushing the stray pieces from the worn parchment. You glance back up at him, slowly unravelling it with a question on your lips.

"How long, exactly, was I out for?"

"Just an extra day. We found you the morning after you entered the maze, injected you with the serum almost immediately- as soon as Clint realized what you'd done to Chuck. Then it was all day and- well, partly into the night until you woke up." Thomas was the one who answered, still pacing back and forth while recounting the story as if in a daze. You swallow, then nod slowly. You finish spreading the paper out in front of you, looking down at the hastily scribbled words on the paper. 

'If you're reading this, then I'm dead.'

So much for that. You continue reading, then take a long breath as you try to compose what you would like to say in your head. They're patient- as patient as they can be when their entire life is on the line. Thomas continues to pace, and Newt just stares at the empty ground between you where the letter once lay. The first thing that comes to mind, though, starts with the second paragraph…

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Tommy."

He freezes in his steps, and as you glance over to watch him, you can see Newt react similarly in his seat. He freezes, then slowly looks up and looks between the two of you. You wait for Thomas to do something, to say something, but he stands there as if you've just given him grave news. Eventually, when it seems as if you won't elaborate, he sighs and roughly rubs his face with his hands. He turns toward you, crossing his arms with a stern expression. "For lying about working for them?"

"I never once said I worked for them," You counter, raising a hand. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I explicitly said I did not work for them." You watch as Thomas freezes, then pulls his brows together like he's trying to remember your conversation. He hesitates, slowly uncrossing his arms.

"You… You did say that, but…" He hesitates, then huffs a disapproving breath, shaking his head. "But how could you know so much without working for them? Surely you remember by now?"

"I-" You swallow roughly, then glance down. "That's what I'm sorry about. I lied about how I remember so much. I knew, at the time. It was just…" You close your eyes, then squeeze them together, raising your fists to cover them. "The truth sounds more far-fetched than working for Wicked, trust me."

"Wicked?" Newt questions, and as you release your hold on your eyes you finally let yourself look at him. He looks confused, and pissed off for being confused, and both you and Thomas realize at the same time that you should be including him in this. In all of it. It's Thomas who speaks first, clarifying.

"The creators. They're a- a company? Named Wicked. The letters that come up on the box, W C K D. It's an abbreviation for Wicked." Newt swallows roughly, then waves a hand as if messily saying to carry on. You turn your attention back toward Thomas, though it seems as though he's lost his fight now, moving to take a seat on a box near Newt, across from you. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and takes a deep breath before looking up at you. "Fine. I understand you think it's not going to be believable. But starting with that is enough. You tell us the truth, and no matter what it is, we'll believe you."

You blink a few times, then wonder if he really means that. And you mean really means that, after he hears what you have to say. You didn't write it in your letter, technically. You'd hinted at it, sure, but the reality of the truth is so much heavier, so much harder to accept. You bite your lip, looking between the two boys you realize you have fallen in love with, and wonder how exactly they'll react. Perhaps they'll find you so unbelievable that they won't just leave you forever, but completely ignore your valid way of escaping out of this place. Although… Maybe they shouldn't leave… Nothing else could happen if they stay here, if they continue to live in this place that supplies them fresh food and water, that keeps them safe from the sickness.

But that's not fair, for you to choose for them.

"I think the easiest way to explain it- is that I'm from another universe." You give it a second, waiting for them to interrupt or berate you, to ask you to tell the truth. After they just stare at you, waiting for you to continue on and explain what you mean, you begin to feel a warmth fill your chest. It seems as if, for now, they're willing to believe whatever it is you say. "Everything here, all of this. You, both of you-" You hesitate at this part, taking a long breath in before blowing it back out, nodding. "This is all just a book series to me. Or- was. It all was a book series, until I woke up in that elevator."

"Did you remember everything right away?" Newt questions, his expression open and not-disbelieving. You blink for a moment, taken aback by his specific question, considering any other he could be asking. But, you assure yourself, if he's asking questions like this then that means he believes you- or at least, is trying to.

"Not right away. And," You glance between the both of them with a smile, "Not when I remembered my name either. It came slowly, over time. Dreams, and memories hit me out of nowhere. I didn't know what was happening at first until I had a dream, I think about a week in?"

"Oh," Thomas interrupts, sitting up straighter with a thoughtful look. "I- I think I remember that one. You had said something like," He huffs out a breath, staring unseeing at the ground as he tries to remember. "You asked me why I was still here? That I was supposed to get out by now?" You nod along, then tilt your head back and forth in contemplation before sighing.

"I think it was the night after that one, actually. That had been a flashback, a memory of the books but it hadn't been what alerted me to my situation. The next night, I woke up from a weird dream and knew then. But no one else had been up, and I took a little walk around." You sigh once again, shaking your head. "Not the point."

"What did you mean, then? If you remember?" Newt asks, unmoving from his current lean forward, his elbows on his knees as he studies you, hands clasped together. "When you asked Tommy why he was still here?" You suck in a breath, nodding. 

"Yeah, so, that's the thing. This is all pretty reminiscent of that book series, but it's not quite the same. In the books," You nod toward Thomas, growing worried about how he might react to this information. "When Tommy got sent up, he was pretty quickly after attacked by Ben."

"Ben?" Thomas questions, and you can understand the confusion between both boys. You nod along, taking a deep breath.

"So, Ben had been stung in the maze. No one knew how it had happened, or why. But he ended up- well, going crazy." The two of them nod, sharing glances as if they knew exactly what you were talking about. You supposed they would, at this point. "So, when he attacked you- and no one knew how to cure it- well…"

"He was banished." Newt completes your sentence as if this was obvious, nodding along. Thomas shuffles in his seat restlessly, leaning back and raising a hand to run it through his hair roughly. It's pretty obvious he doesn't enjoy this story so far, but you doubt he'd enjoy any of it, to be honest. 

"Yeah. That kinda kick-started the whole thing." The boys look confused, so you continue without prompting. "Alby and Minho went to go check around the maze, and they thought they came across a dead Griever. Apparently, it had only pretended to be dead, and stung Alby." You watched as Thomas leaned forward again quickly, paying close attention. "They escaped it, somehow, and Minho was helping Alby get back to the Glade but they were running late. They weren't going to make it. So," You look over to him, nodding, "Tommy ran in."

"Of course he would," Newt mutters under his breath, leaning back finally and slumping his shoulders in defeat. 

"The three of them got locked in the maze at night. That's how Tommy was able to kill a Griever for the first time. It was-" You stare off into space, images of your night in the maze flashing before your eyes. "You just use the maze against them. Let the stone crush them, or trick them into jumping off the edge of a cliff. Things like that."

"That's what you did, then?" Thomas asks, and you finally come to, looking up to meet his stern gaze. You nod again, agreeing, and watch him sigh out slowly.

"After you all escaped the maze and gave Alby the Grief serum-"

"The what?" Newt interrupts, his brows furrowing.

"The blue serum, the one that I gave Chuck?"

"Grief serum," Newt mutters to himself again, then takes a deep breath and nods to indicate you can continue.

"Minho and Tommy went back in. Found the dead Griever, pulled the stinger out-" You hesitate here, then look at them sharply. "Wait, where's my backpack? It had the stinger in there, right?" Newt nods, but Thomas is the one who speaks up with exhaustion.

"Minho took the bag, and the stinger. We read the letter out to him, so he began trying to solve that puzzle you mentioned immediately." You nod along, letting out a breath of relief.

"Good, that's good." You look back down at the letter, scanning it quickly to see if you were forgetting anything. You reach the bottom of the page, swallowing roughly at what you had written there. As if reading your thoughts, Newt's calm voice speaks up once again.

"There's still a few more questions I have about that letter." You nod, already knowing what he might ask. You hear it anyway; "Why did you warn us about Gally? To take the shot?" An ache begins in your chest, having written out that they shouldn't trust him. He's obviously different now than in the books… Was that Ben's doing? Was his exile the reason Gally had become so hard and distant in the books?

"I don't know why I wrote that," You whisper, but Newt interrupts just as quickly.

"We need to know, [Y/N]."

"In the books," You take a deep breath, placing the letter to your side on the box, looking back up at them with a guilty expression. "Look, you have to keep in mind that Ben was exiled, Tommy was made a runner almost immediately; his entire world was falling apart."

"[Y/N],"

"Gally didn't want to leave the Glade," You begin, letting your eyes fall back to the ground so you can try and remember things fully. "He tried to stay, and tried to convince others to stay with him. He was pretty successful, about half of what remained of the Glade stayed. But, they were all killed when the Grievers attacked again. At this point, the doors weren't closing at night-" You stop, raising your hands to rub your face roughly. "I don't know how I'm going to explain everything to you, it's all such a mess."

"It's okay," Thomas murmurs, his voice trying to be gentle. "Just try."

"Wicked didn't like that you found the stringer, or perhaps just didn't like that you were in the maze at all, Tommy. They sent Teresa in, said she was the last one ever. This wasn't but a week or two after you came up. After she was up, the doors stopped closing. It was a race to the exit, otherwise everyone would die at night when the Grievers attacked. Alby sacrificed himself that first night so that you all could survive." You let out a breath, raising your eyes to them. They were both understandably horrified, and you shrug with a humourless laugh. "I guess Gally making this bunker would've worked out better back then."

"And Gally still wanted to stay? After the doors didn't close?"

"He thought we'd- well, you had angered the 'creator's, and wanted to sacrifice Tommy to the maze. But he had too many friends, and a good bit of Gladers, including you, Newt, helped him out of his binds and escaped into the maze to leave. Some came with, some stayed behind with Gally." You sighed, leaning your head back on your shoulders. "So, Gladers that stayed behind died, Gally chased after you all. He had been stung, I think? Either that, or he was losing everything and had nothing left. He was pointing a gun at Tommy, trying to hold him accountable for everything that happened." 

"I wouldn't blame him," Thomas muttered under his breath, which caused both you and Newt to look at him sharply. Newt spoke up before you could, however.

"Don't say that." He lets out a slow breath, waiting for Thomas to meet his eyes before continuing. "Do not start blaming yourself for something that never even happened." Thomas blinks a few times, as if coming to this realization. This really hadn't happened, not in this timeline anyway. After Thomas takes another deep, calming breath, they both nod and turn their attention back to you.

"He shot the gun," You immediately say, watching Thomas flinch. This next part, even just the thought, hurts you to say. "But, Chuck jumped in front."

"That's why you said protect Chuck," Newt mutters once more, and you nod.

"He killed him. Chuck died trying to protect Tommy, and I just… I couldn't have that happen again." You let your eyes fall from them, staring at that spot on the ground once again that you've become so accustomed to so far through this conversation. "I said not to hesitate so maybe Chuck wouldn't get hurt. There's a spear, I think? Maybe- maybe Minho threw it? I can't quite remember, but it pierced Gally and everyone thought he was dead."

"Thought?" Newt asks softly, and you scoff out a laugh, shaking your head.

"That turns into a long story. But no, he didn't die." It's quiet again, and you don't quite blame them. It's a lot to take in, but even just trying to remember what happened in the books is getting harder and harder as you live through this life. You think perhaps they're trying to reconcile what you know versus what has actually happened in their lives. Maybe they were trying to figure out what happened along the way to stop all of these events from occurring. You knew you had always wondered, this whole time. It's a few minutes before Newt finally breaks the silence, his voice tired and grave.

"So why did you say Tommy is the cure?"

[narutorarepairweek]

Prompt List 2024

As previously decided through popular vote, this event will take place in August of this year. The exact dates will be August 4th - 10th (Sunday-Saturday). Each day will have two different prompts to choose from - as always, please keep in mind the following about the prompts and the event in general:

You can choose one prompt or both per day, or you can skip a day. There is no minimum or maximum participation requirement

You can take the prompts as literally or as loosely as you like

For any prompt with a / in it, you may use either the first or second option, or you may use both. Feel free to have fun with it!

This is a tumblr event. We will not be making an AO3 collection, nor will we be on any other platform. You are, however, more than welcome to host your content on other platforms and share a link on tumblr for us to promote.

Please review our updated rules and regulations post

Feel free to look at our FAQ

No bashing of any kind, of ships, content, or people. Don’t be a fucking bully, you’ll get your ass banned and blocked so fast

Please review the disqualified ships list for this year before you start creating

Tagging rules will be below the prompt list, under a cut. Please remember to tag your content properly as outlined in the updated rules and regulations post. The mod team is small, and the way we reblog/tag content is clicking OPs tags to quick add them - there is no way we could properly tag our reblogs otherwise.

By tags, we mean the actual tag section of a tumblr post. Putting everything at the top of your post is amazing and wonderful, and a practice we do commend, but it does not count in this regard. Use the actual tags section or we will not reblog your content. If anyone has any questions about this, our inbox and DMs are open - we are here to help and want to promote your content.

A special thank you to those who submitted prompts this year. We included as many as we could :)

Sunday 4th: Poison | Unlikely Alliances

Monday 5th: Hanahaki | "You came." "You called."

Tuesday 6th: First meeting/Last meeting | Madara Quote*

Wednesday 7th: Catherynne Quote** | Red String of Fate

Thursday 8th: Seasons | Murphy's Law/Yhprum's Law

Friday 9th: Amnesia | Dialogue prompt #2***

Saturday 10th: Free day | Radhanath Quote****

Quotes and second dialogue prompt are below the cut

*Madara Quote: "Man seeks peace, yet at the same time yearning for war. Those are the two realms belonging solely to man.

**Catherynne M. Valente Quote: He'll burn you down like wax if you let him.

***Dialogue prompt #2: "If I'd known where our paths would lead us, I'd have run the other way when I met you."

****Radhanath Swami Quote: In the heart that harbors the weed of selfish greed, the flower of love cannot survive.

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

ahhhh sorry for such a big break!!! I’ve been super busy and had no motivation to write- hopefully this writers block doesn’t last too much longer!! Here’s the LINK for part 17. Part 18 - Leni struggles with the loneliness she didn’t expect when arriving back in England. Without speaking to Max and completely skipping the Las Vegas GP, she thinks she’s hit a low point. Little does she know it’s about to get a whole lot worse when Max spots her with no other than her ex-boyfriend…

Sunday, 19th November 2023 - Las Vegas GP weekend.

The Las Vegas weekend was booming. Parties were happening left right and centre, alcohol was flowing and the advertising was just obnoxious.

Obnoxious that was to me. Whilst the race was occurring I was fast asleep- that quiet Sunday afternoon I sat in a local pub with a handful of my closer friends from my school days. It would’ve been pretty wholesome if my ex boyfriend didn’t just turn up out of the blue. I couldn’t have rolled my eyes any harder, immediately turning back to my phone to scroll past the many pictures of Max celebrating his win.

The sense of separation was straight up depressing. In fact, what happened between Max and I seemed to hurt worse than my breakup with my boyfriend of four years. I very quickly began to realise the overwhelmingly stupid mistake I’d made with Max. I no longer knew how to handle the feelings I had for him- who to tell, who to turn to. I replayed every moment over and over in my head about where it all went wrong- how it all went wrong. I was positive I’d exhausted all my friend’s ears about the topic, yet I still couldn’t rid the ache off my chest, no matter how hard I tried. “Guys let’s get a picture!!” My attention was diverted to my friend holding a phone up at the head of the table. Little did I know, taking that picture was about to make my life 10x more dramatic. It seemed that Max somehow did see a lot of things on social media, including the pictures of me and my friends and, sadly, my ex boyfriend sat right next to me. It’s not like I even talked to him once. So of course when my phone buzzed whilst I was sat at home later that evening, it was like all my prayers had been answered. Max had text. However, reading the message wasn’t so… prayers-being-answered-worthy. “I’m gonna go to bed, night night, you two.” I was very quick to leave the room I was in, my two siblings watching me in confusion as I sheepishly hurried upstairs. I didn’t even make it to my room before I was stood still, rereading the bitter toned text from Max.

Max: you could have told me if there was a reason you didn’t want to be with me

The message was short, sharp, it kinda didn’t make any sense, hence to why I was constantly re-reading it. My heart rate was sky high, and if I didn’t eventually collapse on my bed, I would’ve fainted from the lack of oxygen. I didn’t have it in me to hold the reply for another few minutes. I stared in utter confusion, feeling all the colour drain from my face. Leni: what????

Max: you’re back with your ex already

I momentarily frowned at the text, wincing in utter confusion. It became very clear what he was talking about when I remembered the picture from prior today. I felt borderline frantic, then silly. Max being bothered about this was a punch in the gut, maybe now was my chance to explain myself completely. Leni: he’s still friends with everybody, I didn’t speak to him once but I can’t stop him from going out to the same places as me? Max: ok

Leni: can we talk properly about all this? I let out a sigh, feeling as though my chest was about to literally explode. I couldn’t crucify with myself any longer knowing I’d completely destroyed this. Now Max was being blunt? Borderline petty? I knew how he normally text and this wasn’t right. The tears began to form around the same time my fingers started to tremble over my keypad. Max: I don’t know what there’s to talk about Leni

Leni: the fact you think I didn’t want to be serious with you because of my ex?? Max: I know that’s not the only reason

Leni: no its not a reason at all, me and my ex literally haven’t spoken a word to each other since we broke up, things didn’t work between us and I don’t want them to, I stopped things cos you’ve literally just broken up with Kelly, its way too soon

Max: it’s been months Leni, you know how I felt about that relationship and exactly why it ended, you know I would’ve waited for you, but it was all too immature for me, sleeping with each other and then nothing progresses? I don’t want that with you. Despite my attempts, there was no possible way I could even fathom a response. Anything I typed sounded pathetic or desperate- exactly how I felt. Max thought I was immature, maybe I was, but it still hurt to hear from him. I was torn between begging desperately for his forgiveness or succumbing to my internalised rage- thankfully I decided neither would work.

Instead, I kept myself to myself, using my I phone notes to rant out my dismay about the situation- about myself. I’d played Olivia Rodrigo on repeat, cried myself to sleep and during my showers, most mornings, if not all, I woke up with puffy eyes. I had officially hit rock bottom, and there was nothing I could do. I stared at myself back in the mirror. My eyes were red rimmed and despite my best efforts, the swelling around them hadn’t gone down. It didn’t help I couldn’t stop crying. I was so pathetic and immature, Max was right. I was being so dramatic, treating this like I’d broken up from my decade-long boyfriend. But I soon came to realise that’s exactly what it felt like. I’d been friends with Max for as long as I could remember, even during the awkward teenage days when I was too scared to be around boys. I remembered the prior few years before, when I was so happy to see him at the Grand Prix weekends, how close we’d been. Maybe getting together in the first place was a mistake? No. No that can’t be right.

How could it be when I’d just realised I loved him- and I think I always had.

My forehead dropped against the mirror with a groan, only picking it up when my phone screen lit up from the floor below me. At first my eyebrows knotted together, then they released in surprise.

Dad: I’ve bought your tickets to fly to AUH on Thursday. Geri’s told me you’ve been moping around, we’ll talk about it when you get here but I’m not having you missing the last Grand Prix. Fuck. Don’t get me wrong- anybody should and would be grateful for their dad doing this for them, and I was. But the thought of seeing Max was terrifying- I felt like an outsider, somebody who shouldn’t be there. It dawned on me that everybody’s friends and families would be there- including Max- I’d have to face his mum and sister knowing everything that had happened between us. I proceeded to drop my head against the mirror again. The anxiousness grew in my belly fast, all I wanted these past few days was to see Max, now all I could hope was for not to see him. As much as I hated to admit it, I absolutely dreaded the Grand Prix. Not only was I an angsty mess- I was an ungrateful one too…

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Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389 @eviethetheatrefreak @rossylightwood @formula1mount @gulphulp @lou-bean28

[bluesest]

Hello. I had an idea for a while. A guy named Jorge with a plump bubble butt unknowingly ingested dairy when he's lactose intolerant and suffers nasty explosive diarrhea all day and shits himself at least three times in the same day.

A Lactose Distract

Jorge was a young sportsman and independent, he lives alone so he takes care of the household chores such as cleaning, cooking and shopping.

Every end of the month, Jorge goes to a supermarket where he is in charge of buying groceries from home, he made sure that they have enough protein to maintain and grow his muscle mass even more, he had barely been in a local gym for a month and his muscles were still not marked, He always thought the gym would be the same as sports, but he found it even harder to see results, aware that it only takes a short time for him to expect more from his body.

He concentrated on taking foods such as red meat and fish, great foods to support his development, or well, that's what his coach told him, another food was dairy that helped by providing calcium, however, he could not afford to eat this type of food because he was lactose intolerant.

Jorge struggled with this problem since he was a teenager, one of his habits was to eat ice cream every Sunday but little by little this generated problems: first gas that gained a terrible smell and that used to last a long time, then stomach pains such as colic and finally an incredible desire to evacuate his bowels, he remembered how one of those days when trying to fart he literally shit himself with thick and bad diarrhea This problem continued until his lactose intolerance was detected, and from that moment on, Jorge dedicated himself to taking care of his diet.

He used a dairy replacement, i.e., lactose-free products such as lactose-free milk, among others. Whenever he went shopping, he made sure to check his milk cartons and read his labels. 

This specific day he bought 3 cartons of lactose-free milk, next to him was an old woman who bought regular milk, she left her shopping cart next to Jorge's while he was distracted by seeing a sign with the week's offers, the old woman got confused about her cart and took Jorge's (both shopping carts only carried milk cartons).

Jorge turned to look at his new cart and confidently did not check its contents, ready to continue with the shopping day. An hour passed and he was already paying when the first warning flashed, the milk had an irregular price, that is, cheaper, but he did not give it importance and thought that it was just an offer that he did not realize existed.

He came home and restocked his fridge with all the food he bought, sat down to watch TV, and fell fast asleep.

After a three-hour nap Jorge got hungry, he took cereal with milk and helped himself to two dishes, they had a different flavor, a sweeter one, but again he didn't think about it, he thought: "Maybe now they put more sugar in this cereal"

An alarm distracted him from his thoughts, it was his digital hand watch, it only meant one thing: his daily jog to the park. He dressed in black leggings and a gray shirt, grabbed his phone and headphones, and jogged out of his house, but without first making himself a milkshake to drink in the park and relax.

He reached the halfway point when he stopped, ignored the music on his phone and closed his eyes: *GRRRRRRRRRRRRR* that was the sound that generated his stomach, it was so loud that Jorge managed to hear it even with his headphones on, took his arm and began to feel his stomach.

"Ufffffffffff, what was that? Am I hungrier? It's a good thing I save my milkshake for problems like these."

He took his thermos out of a small bag he was carrying and finished taking it all in one sip, his stomach stopped his annoying noises and Jorge decided to continue with his daily jog.

When he arrived at the park his stomach rumbled again, but this time a small pain invaded his body, he stopped and this time he turned off his headphones and put them away, put his hands on his hip and looked at the sky closing his eyes: "I don't think it's hunger... I've already eaten a lot in a very short time, but my stomach feels so bad..."

His back bent and he bent down keeping his hands on his hips and his eyes closed *GGGRRRRRR* "What's happening to me... I'm sweating a lot...?" he lifted his head *GRGRGGRGRGR* "I feel... Feel... something inside my stomach, could it be...?" he opened his eyes and relaxed his stomach... *pftftfftft* "uuggghhhh, I had a fart stuck *GRGRGGGRRRR* and I think I have another one... *PPFFTTFTFpfptptf* this one was even worse, ufffffff yes it sucks *GRGRGRGGRRGR* Oh no, here comes a big one"

*PFPPPTFPTPPTPTFTPF* *PRPRRPPSPSS* *PFFFTT*

Time froze, Jorge opened his eyes as wide as he could and led his left arm to his stomach and his right to his bubble butt, it was real, the unthinkable happened, an adult shit his pants:

"Oh no no no no, how could this happen? What should I do? I didn't even feel like going to the bathroom!"

*GGGRRRRRRRRRRRRR*

"But now I can feel it."

He repositioned his arms and running with all his might fled the park, he didn't want people to find out what happened through the terrible smell that enveloped his body, from afar you couldn't visualize any stain thanks to the dark color of the leggings, however, if you pay attention you can see a small lumpy bulge on the back of the tight pants.

*GGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGR* *GRGRGGRGRGRGR*

"Not again, please!"

*PFPPFPFFPFPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTFPF*

"UGH"

*PRRRRRRRRR*

"I don't understand, that I could have eaten enough for this to happen to me, I hadn't shit my pants since I was a teenager!"

*GRRRRRRRRRGRGGRGRGRGRGRGR*

Sweating and with his tired legs he managed to visualize his house in the distance, when he touched his garden he felt an annoying stomach pain that prevented him from continuing running, Jorge felt that the shit was approaching his back door trying to knock it down and come outside, with each movement the rancid mixture turned and hit Jorge's large intestine.

He took the same position as before, one arm to his stomach and the other to his butt to apply pressure to prevent his underpants from ending up in a big mess and shaking, Jorge grabbed the keys to his house and quickly opened the front door.

"I must get there, I can't hold on, WHY THE HELL DID THEY BUILD THE BATHROOM BY GOING UPSTAIRS?! ugghhhhhh"

*PFTFTFTFTFTFTTFTTFTTFTF*

Climbing the stairs was quite a challenge, his diarrhea was struggling to get out and his tense and tired muscles were not strong enough to try to climb the stairs by jumping or running, but despite this Jorge managed to reach the top and dazzle the open bathroom door.

He arrived, left his bathroom door open, pulled down his tight leggings and underpants with various proofs of the stomach mess, and sat down on the neat, clean porcelain. 

*PPFFPPTPPTFPTPFTPPTPFPTPPPPT* *PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRP* *SQHHSHQSSHHQSQHSHHSHSQHSQHSQHSQ* *PFFTTFTFTFTFTFT* 

Jorge lived alone, so he didn't limit himself to containing whatever was wrong with his stomach.

*PRPPRLLLTLTLTLTLLTLTLTLTLT* *BRLLARRSRASAPPAPPAPPAPPAPPABRLRLRLRR* *PRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *PLOP* *PLOP*

"Oh it can't be, what did I eat enough for this to happen to me?, and why right in the park?!"

*BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *SQUASHSHHSSHSHSHSSS* *GRRRRR* *PFFFFFFTTFTFTFTTF* *PRPRPRPRSQHBQHSHSQHHSQHQHQ* *SHHHHHHHHHHH*

"Oh... no, something is coming..."

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR* *HQSHSHSHQHSHQSHQ* *BKERKEBRKBEBEKEKLREEEEE* *RRRRRRRRPSSSSSSSSTRTRTTRR* *PFFFTTT* *PLOP* *PFFTFTFTFTFTFTTF* *PLOP*

"Aghhhh, I think I'm done"

Jorge took a large piece of toilet paper, folded it and slowly and carefully passed it on his burning butt, and before throwing the first piece away, Jorge stood up with his butt in the air and looked down in the toilet, the accumulated fecal material was disgusting, thick and full of lumps with a dark brown color, Jorge could swear he saw a bubble.

He sat back down and finished his work by using up half a roll of paper, flushed the toilet and left the stinking bathroom, leaving the door open for the rotten smell to disappear.

He sat down on the couch in his living room and grabbed a washcloth to wipe his sweat: "What the hell was that, I hadn't felt bad in the morning, I watch my diet, is it something in my trainer's new diet?"

*GRRRRRRRRRRR*

"Oh! My stomach is really burning inside."

*PFFFTTTT* *GRRRRRR*

"I'm so gassy, ugh, I think a nap wouldn't hurt me..."

*PPFFFFFFFFFTTTTT*

"And so I think my stomach is going to relax."

Jorge went back up the stairs with his hands massaging his stomach, he undressed, got to his room and lay down dropping on the bed, closing his eyes and with one last fart his mind shut down closing his eyes.

2 hours later...

*GRRRRRRRRRRR*

Jorge opened his eyes in a cold sweat, lifted his back and massaged his stomach again, the great pain and stomach roars lifted him, the sweat consumed him covering every part of his body especially his big butt and between legs.

Jorge looked down to see his weakened stomach, but something underneath alarmed him, he pulled his butt away and saw something terrifying: a giant brown stain covering the white blankets of his beloved bed.

Jorge was going to scream until a stabbing pain came over him:

*GGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGGRG*

"Oh God!"

He jumped up from his bed and ran naked to his bathroom without success because little by little wet gases came out of him, staining his ass more with dry shit:

*PPFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTTF*

*BRBRBRBRBRBBR* *PFPFPTPTPFTPTT*

*PRRRRRRRPFFTFTF*

"I can feel melted lava mixing with trash inside my rectum!"

Almost slipping, Jorge reached the prized toilet which retains the smell and small brown marks marked on the porcelain from the previous visit to his bathroom.

And with his butt stained, he sat down and freed his stomach a second time:

*PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTFTFTTFTFTFTTFTFTGFTTF* *HQHSHQHHQSHHSQHSQHSQ* *PRPRPRPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *SHSHHSHSHSHPFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTSQQASGGSSSAS* *TRTRTRTRTRTRTR* *BLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRPRRRRR*

"AHHHHHHH, how is this a possible thing?"

*HSHSHSHSHSHSHSQHHSQSQSS* *FFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTRRRRRRRR* *PSPSPSTGHGHGHGHGHGHG* *DRDRDRGRRRRR* *RRRRRRRRRRHRHRHRHHRHHR* *PFTFTFTFTFTFTTFTTFTFFTTF*

Jorge turned his head back, his forehead swam in sweat and his butt was quite sore, there must be a cause for all this, it's not normal diarrhea he wondered until he remembered the cereal he ate:

"It could be..."

*BLRLRLRLTTTRTRTRTTRTR* *POPFTFTFTTFTFTF* *TRTRTRTRTTRTRTRTRTRT* *SHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHS*

"I have to investigate... But first I need a bath."

Jorge got up from the toilet which thanks to the sweat combined with the dried shit of his butt left stains all over the lid, his clean toilet now looked like one that belongs to a gas station in the middle of the desert where only greasy truckers go.

He took two steps and entered the bathtub, relaxed and let the clean water cover his body replacing the sweat and shit, brown water accumulated and disappeared on Jorge's feet and with a sigh of relief he dried himself with a soft towel and left the tub without first farting.

"I don't think this will end anytime soon..."

He went downstairs when again he felt the pain of an approaching diarrhea, but this did not stop him, he reached the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, checked the cereal and there was nothing strange about it, this gave him a clue to the origin of the problem, Jorge refused to think what he thought it was and bravely took one of the cartons of milk and the news did not hit him, literally:

*GRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRRGRGRGRG*

"So this is responsible for the diarrhea I have!"

*GRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGRRR*

"I can't believe it! How did it happen?"

*GRRRRRRRR* *PFFFFFFTFTFTFTFTF*

"I must throw away all this milk... and... I MUST GO TO THE BATHROOM."

Jorge dropped the carton of milk spilling on the floor, with both hands he held his bare butt and started running with all his might:

*PFPPTPTPPTPFPPTPTPTF*

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR*

*PPFPTPTPPPFTPPPPPT*

"Come on, stay inside, don't explode!"

He climbed the stairs, but a misstep eventually led him to lose his strength and:

*SPLASH* *PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *HQSHHQSHSH*

Jorge shit on the stairs, his ass exploded spilling thick brown lava, he was embarrassed, but he still continued on his way letting drops of liquid shit leak out of his tight and strong ass that tried to prevent more shit from staining the stairs without any success.

Walking like a penguin, Jorge finally got to the bathroom, he saw that the toilet lid was still stained, he didn't have time to clean it, but he doesn't have time to clean it now, he slowly put his butt in the dirty toilet and relaxed:

*SQUSQHUSQHHQSHSQUAHSHASHSAHUASASSSJHSSHSHSH* *TRTRTRTTRTRTRTTTTTTRTRTRTRTRTRR* *PFPTPFFPPPTPFPTPFPTPFPPTT* *BRLRLRLRRBRLRLRRRRR* *PTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFT*

"AAAAHHHHHH WHY?"

*FPPTPPTPPFPFPPTTPFFPT* *PSJSJQJSJASPALSSPLASH* *FFFFFFFTTFTFTFTFTFTFTF* *BRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRB* *GRGGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGR*

"Personal note, check purchases before paying... AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH"

*BRRRRRRRRRRRR* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* "PRPPRPRPRPRPRPRP" *SHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHS* *TRTRTRTRT* *LRBRRLBTLRLRLTRTLLTB*

"I think ... Forget it!"

*PFTFTFTFTFTFT* *GRGRGRGRGRGRGGRRRRRR* *HDHJQHHJHQDDJHDDH* *PLOP* *SQHQSHHQSHQSQSQ* *TOC* *PLOP* *TLOC* *PFTFTFTFTFTTFTFTFTFTFT*

After 30 minutes Jorge was finally able to get up and set out to clean his bathroom and stairs being interrupted by occasional diarrhea, when everything calmed down he threw the milk in the trash.

[jedi-enthusiast]

ok, fast food rant incoming:

If a higher up, usually a general manager or an owner, or a customer hasn't routinely worked at whatever fast food place they're at DURING RUSH HOUR with like FOUR PEOPLE on shift INCLUDING the MANAGER, then they shouldn't be able to say shit about "labor costs" or about however long it's taking to get shit done.

I work at a fast food restaurant, not gonna say which one but it's pretty popular, and since before I started working there the GM keeps getting on all our managers' asses about "labor costs" this and "labor costs" that, telling them that they need to cut as many people as possible every day in order to cut costs because "those people aren't needed"---essentially trying to keep us running a skeleton crew 24/7.

The GM has ACTUALLY TOLD the managers that if they don't cut "enough people" then they will be FIRED.

The problem is, kitchen usually needs like 4-5 people to move smoothly, front (drive thru, shakes, lobby) needs 3-4 people to run smoothly, and it's best to have at least 1 more person on standby to help stock and clean and do all the little jobs needed to keep things running, and that's NOT INCLUDING the manager who has to do other jobs like checking temps, labor plans, shift changes, scheduling, etc. etc.

WE CANT FUCKING FUNCTION WITH ONLY FOUR FUCKING PEOPLE.

Oh, but it gets better: the GM forces us to run on a skeleton crew, but then still bitches at us for our times being bad.

On drive thru we're monitered for how long it takes us to get someone's food out, and our goal is about 70 seconds...WE CANT FUCKING DO THAT WITH FOUR PEOPLE, ITS LITERALLY FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE! When you have a 2 person kitchen and then 2 people running front and trying to do all the other jobs because THE PEOPLE IN KITCHEN LITERALLY CANT FUCKING MOVE, then YOU CANT GET SHIT OUT QUICKLY!

Today was a fucking shitshow because we had 5 fucking people today and weren't allowed to call anyone to help, but one of the guys was a new hire and literally knew jack shit so it felt like 4.

Like I literally slipped, fell, hit my head and back, and then had to get up and keep going in like 5 seconds while I was covered in soda and IN PAIN because we didn't have enough people for me to take a minute to recover or for me to go home. I FUCKING HURT, but I couldn't do anything about that because THERE WAS NO ONE THERE TO TAKE MY SPOT.

When GMs schedule a shift, they're scheduling for the slowest times of the day, when the actual people that WORK those shifts schedule them, they're scheduling for rush hour---which is the majority of the shifts btw.

So yeah, GMs and owners can shut the fuck up about "labor costs" and times and shit because they have NO FUCKING CLUE what it's like to work rush hour with the bare minimum---if they did, they'd change their tunes real fucking quick and understand WHY we need more people.

And the fucking CUSTOMERS-

If you're a fucking customer at a fast food place and you go there during THE BUSIEST TIMES OF DAY, I'm gonna need you to SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT HOW LONG YOUR FOOD IS TAKING!!!

YOU are the one who came in the middle of Sunday rush hour, when everyone and their mother decided to get lunch, when everyone---INCLUDING YOU PROBABLY---has gotten 7 trays and MILKSHAKES WITH ALL OF THEM-

SO OBVIOUSLY ITS GONNA TAKE A FUCKING MINUTE, EAT AT HOME IF YOU DONT WANT TO FUCKING WAIT

I fucking hate working fast food so fucking much, it's not even the job---I actually like the job---it's the fucking moron GMs working all of us to death because they're a bunch of jackass bootlickers and the fuckass customers who like verbally abusing us because they have sad, pathetic, lives and can't get a fucking hobby.

[dalishthunder]

WIP Wednesday Sunday

Howdy yall im trying to build back my writing muscles, and I'm literally so sorry to everyone in my requests bc I did try to write them but my muscles are... weak from disuse (being too busy and/or too burned out and/or experiencing too many health issues to write)

However, I have been struck by inspiration so.. have a taste of what I'm working on

“Oh, come on….”

The key to your mailbox had been notoriously unreliable from the first moment it had been placed in your hand by your landlord two and a half years ago. You jiggled it again.

Though perhaps, unreliable wasn’t quite the right term….

You pulled, trying to adjust the angle.

You could always rely on it to be a pain in the ass, after all.

Much to your chagrin, it held fast in its place and a groan escaped your throat.

“Goddamit….”

“Do you need assistance?”

You felt yourself jump, muscles freezing as you realized your neighbor most definitely saw you struggling with this mundane, basic task. And as you glanced over, your worst fears were confirmed. Not just any neighbor…. The hot blond one who was always well put together from the other complex on the block.

Ignoring the heat on your cheeks you mumbled out a, “No, thank you though. Just getting my mail.”

He elected not to reply, just quirking an eyebrow, amber eyes looking you over impassively.

Aloof.

Cool.

He turned, taking out his own mail key. It slid into the lock like it had been coated with a fine spritz of WD-40.

Showoff….

You jiggled yours again, pushing and pulling, trying to get it to even budge a bit….

Hot Neighbor finished collecting his mail, tucking some envelopes into his suit jacket before closing the box shut. In a few seconds, he would be gone, and you would still be alone fighting with your own as night progressively began to set in.

Swallowing whatever little shred of pride you had left, you sighed. “A- Actually, I think my key is stuck…. Would you be willing to try to get it out? I can’t seem to get it to budge, but maybe you’ll have more luck than me?”

His face was inscruitable, though you were pretty sure that was just his face. You didn’t think his face made other expressions, come to think of it….. But after a second, he crossed the ten feet or so between the mail units. You wordlessly stepped back to give him space.

You’d never seen him this up close before; He wasn’t wearing his usual glasses, and without them he looked tired. His fingers grasped the key, giving it a jiggle, but it didn’t move.

You were almost relieved…. At least he probably didn’t think you were hopelessly incompetent now.

[sunnysoulzz]

please do more dean taylor fix’s there is like literally none out there and i’m DESPERATE

IM SO GLAD SOMEONE WANTS THEM BECAUSE IM SUCH A SLUT FOR HIM, anyway this was inspired by a char.ai convo I had 🥴

Dean x F!reader

Contains: couch fucking, takes place before the events of the movie probably, porn no plot kinda

It was a lazy Sunday, you and Dean were chilling on his couch. You snuggled into him, his arm draped over your shoulder. You couldn’t lie, the movie wasn’t that interesting. You had lost interest very early on, and so had he. He was far more bored then you were, however. He needed to do something else. And I mean, what’s more entertaining than his pretty girlfriend?

His gaze moved from the tv to you, he looked you up and down. He leaned into you, kissing your neck and jaw. You smiled softly. His hand moved from your shoulder to your face. He held your jaw as he turned you to look at him. He stared at your lips before kissing you hungrily.

His other hand moved to your thigh, he ran his fingers across your skin, slowly moving them up. He reached the waistband of your shorts, god he was happy you weren’t wearing many layers.

You spread your legs, giving him better access. He dipped his fingers below the waistband, rubbed against your clit. You were already wet. He smirked.

He turned your body to face him, he kissed down your neck, your legs wrapped around his waist. He left hickeys all over your skin, his hands moving to take off your shorts and panties as fast as possible.

He threw off his shirt, going right back to making out with you. His fingers continued to circle your clit as you moaned into his mouth. His other hand moved under your shirt, wanting to touch you desperately. He slowly pushed his finger inside of you, you moaned into his mouth again as he pumped it in and out of you before adding another finger.

He was rough, just wanting you to be prepped so he could be inside of you. He looked down at you, your head was thrown back, your hands gripping at his arms. God you were just so cute.

He moved his fingers to his mouth, you whined at the loss off contact before you looked up, watching him lick your slick off of them while keeping eye contact. His hands moved down to his sweatpants, you could see the outline of his aching erection through them. “Pretty girl” his voice was raspy. He pulled them down just enough to let his dick spring free.

He pumped himself a few times before grabbing a condom from Know knows where and putting it on. He lined himself up with your entrance. You bit your lip as he shoved his cock inside you. You moaned loudly, his hands moved to your waist, a smile on his face. You looked at him and nodded, he quickly got to working pumping himself in and out off you, his rhythm quickly increasing. “Yes- just like that” you moaned out.

Your hands moved to his shoulders, he leaned down, burning his face in the crook off your neck, your fingers dug into his skin. You left a few hickeys on his neck as well. The feeling off his dick inside you making you moan into his ear. He let out a groan, knowing you felt good. “Tell me how good I make you feel baby~” his hands dug into your waist, probably leaving bruises.

He was happy he wore a condom, cause he really didn’t wanna pull out of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, basically locking him in. He bit down on your shoulder as he came. You threw your head back, still leaving scratches in his back. He stayed inside of you, slowly catching his breath.

You both had completely forgotten the movie, by the time you remembered it you had missed an entire chunk. Dean unfortunately pulled out of you, throwing away the condom before grabbed his shirt, giving it to you because you just looked so good in his shirts. He laid down on you, his head on your chest as he wrapped a blanket around you both.

“This movie is still boring” you mumbled, your fingerings playing with his hair. “I can think of a few more entertaining ideas” he smirked. Your face felt hot. God he was excited for round two.

—

🤭 I love Dean sm. This was kinda- a not very Dean FIC? Like this could’ve been anyone if you replaced his name but still 😭 hope it was enjoyable nonetheless. I might write some dark fics for Dean if you guys are interested. And thank you to @luntothemoon for proofreading some of it 🫶

[gigglemeshthegayboi]

A List of Gripes, Misgivings, Nitpicks, and Other Criticisms of the Wilds Beta

With the beta winding down, we should all take the time to really reflect on how much we enjoyed it. Well, of course we enjoyed it. This is Monster Hunter we're talking. But the beta was, well, a beta test. Capcom dropped it to us specifically to test out Wilds, and generate feedback. This is exactly what I have today to, if they somehow see this; feedback. This is a list of gripes, nitpicks, and small misgivings about MH Wilds I have developed from my time with the beta. I would also like to hear the thought of the community at large and how they compare to my own. I played about 20 hours of it from Tuesday until Sunday, but didn't quite get to trying out all of the weapons. I do, however, have notes on most of them. While I adored the beta and am just as hype for Wilds as the next guy, the whole point of a beta is still to generate constructive community feedback. To that end, here's what I have to say:

System:

Right off the bat, sure I'm on PS5, but this game *really* needs better PC optimization. As funny as looking like a PS1 game for some people was, that simply should not be happening to so many people who have purchased a new GPU anytime in the past couple of years.

Can there please be an option to play offline even if your system is online? Thank you very much. 100 player lobbies are cool and all, but if I wanted to play a game with MMO elements like that I would play an actual MMO. It was my biggest gripe with World for most of its lifespan, and I can't help but think it's only gonna get worse with Wilds.

Environment:

I get if it was done the way it was for the sake of demonstration, but the weather shouldn't change nearly as fast as it did in the beta. It coming and going so often made it feel a lot less significant.

Gathering was for the most part cool, but had some really tedious aspects. I like the idea using the grappling hook for it, but I think that putting loot away takes way too long. Also why does zooming in automatically take the Seikret out of sprint? Can I please sprint while focusing aback the birb?

Speaking of items, the item box menu was awful. Why are all the useful functions in their own dinky little menu? Literally just give me Rise item box, or at least add a 1-button shortcut to the loadout and select stack menus.

I also think the equipment menu could be a little better. I think there should be some button that specifically goes to the loadouts menu and one that goes to the armor-by-set menu.

Fishing was way too slow. I know the whole point of fishing is patience, but I shouldn't have to wait two minutes just to catch a single Sushifish. The full game will probably have consumable baits to remedy this, but nonetheless fishing as it stood was truly agonizing.

I wish we knew about how cooking ingredients work. How do we replenish them in the full game? Do we just buy them from that little grocery stand in base camp? Do we earn them for doing optional requests? What's the deal there? Dumping a bunch of them onto us was probably the way to go for the beta, but I'm gonna be hungry for answers until the full release drops.

The pop-up camp system is really cool, I just think it needs some fine tuning. I think that monsters ought to be a little less inclined to attack "Dangerous" camps than they were in the beta, and a little more inclined to attack "Unsafe" camps.

Monsters:

Chatacabra's damage was undertuned. I know it's basically this game's drome, but I'm pretty sure Great Izuchi dealt more damage in the Rise demo than Chatacabra ever did. It only barely felt like a threat in that first quest, and that was mostly because we didn't get to eat beforehand.

Doshaguma's damage, however, was overtuned. Alpha Dosha managed to cart me more times on average than Rey Dau. If Doshaguma is sort of supposed to be the Anjanath to Rey Dau's Rathalos, that just should not be the case. Also, I think it was way too aggressive in its last phase. Felt worse than a 4th gen Furious Rajang in that regard.

Balahara was a weird mix of attacks that did way too much damage and did too little. Generally, the mud attacks were a little too strong, and the biting attacks were a too weak, but that might just be a matter of personal taste. Shouldn't the attacks by its mouth, which is a perma-wound when open, be really dangerous to present some sort of risk-reward?

The fight itself was extremely well tuned--overall the best in the beta--but I wish Rey Dau would actually use area 5 more often. I only ever saw it go up there a couple of times. Maybe make it go up there instead of 9 and 10 during the Plenty?

Weapons:

Focus mode is really cool, but trying to move independently from the camera and hold an attack at the same time is really awkward. Maybe add an option to bind Focus Mode to L3 on controllers?

Greatsword doesn't feel nearly as meaty as I wish it would. Also, what why does Hammer have something with a higher MV than TCS? It's a really cool attack, don't get me wrong, but I just find the idea of TCS being dethroned in that regard irksome. Other than that, both were great. I mained Hammer in World and Greatsword in GU, and they're both probably gonna be up there in Wilds.

Gunlance felt strong. Like it did a wee bit too much damage for once. Maybe slightly reduce the shell damage. That being said, please for the love of god don't touch shell scaling now that, after 5 whole generations, it is finally fixed. Maybe they could, however, remove the wee bit of intrinsic fire from them and change that out for whatever element the Gunlance itself has? Pretty please?

Nothing but praises to sing for Longsword, Lance, and Charge Blade. They knocked it out of the park with these. Maybe a little too much with Longsword in particular.

Also no real notes on the Sword & Shield, Dual Blades, Hunting Horn, or Insect Glaive. I'm not super familiar with these weapons to begin with.

I have no notes whatsoever on any of the ranged weapons. Didn't get around to playing them myself and have never really liked them to begin with. Bow looks cool though.

That leaves Switch Axe. Poor, poor, Switch Axe. The focus attacks are cool. The counter in Sword Mode and the Offset in Axe Mode are cool. Unbridled and Full Release Slash are cool. But why does sword gauge not recharge passively? Why do sword attacks consume so much gauge? Why revert the change from Rise and not let axe mode get phial bursts when amped? Why does Axe Mode feel more like a chore than anything else? Why does the amped state last for so little time? Also why does hitting circle after that one axe combo morph you into sword? Why is morph slash not always an option? Why does trying to input Wild Swing while moving forward do that fuckass running attack? They had a great thing going in Rise, and IMO kinda dumpstered Switch Axe in Wilds from what we've seen.

TL:DR; I hope Capcom does some fine tuning here and there, fixes up the tent menus, makes fishing bearable, and for the love of Gog fixes Switch Axe for Wilds's full release in February. This game is already looking like one of the best 2025 releases, and if they can just tune it a little bit, it might become my single favorite video game ever.