#please tell me what you think i am desperate for validation

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 1 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you're an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them. Originally posted to AO3

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Swearing (if that even counts).

You’re ending the first half of your 24-hour shift the same way you always do—dinner with the team. Well, at least that’s how you try to end the first half of your shift. Of course, that’s also assuming that both the fire and medical teams are actually at the station and not on a call.

All things considered, this probably only happens once a week, if that.

When it works out, though, it’s a good time. You already spend a lot of time in the rig with Hen and Chim, being an advanced paramedic and all. When it comes to the firefighters, though, you aren’t as well-versed, so it’s nice to have a weekly ‘getting to know you’ session. It seems like these days, it’s a 50/50 shot if they’ll make it to next week's dinner.

The firefighting crew at the 118 is a revolving door of macho men. When you first started, it was Chim, Tommy, and Sal. Chim became a paramedic, so he didn’t exactly ‘leave.’ Sal got relieved of duty, so he didn’t really have a choice. Tommy left, but for something better. Maybe it isn’t so much the job that makes people leave; maybe being a firefighter at the 118 is a stepping stone for bigger and better things.

There is one firefighter that, if he left, you wouldn’t be heartbroken. In fact, it would probably make your shifts a whole lot better.

Evan Buckley, aka ‘Buck.’ God, even thinking his name makes you want to gag a little.

He’s a decent kid, but he’s just that: a kid. He’s a Probie; he’s only been on the job for about 4 months, and no one would assume otherwise. His heart is in the right place, but his brain hasn’t caught up yet. You’re starting to fear it never will.

“I know exactly what that polite, distant smile means: she’s bored,” Chim says as he leans over the counter, pulling you right out of your thoughts and back into reality. “This woman is so far out of my league, but she’s once-in-a-lifetime… I can’t let her go.”

“Lots of fish in the sea,” Bobby, your captain, chimes in. He leans over to pull something out of the oven.

“Not with the bait he’s using,” Hen remarks as she walks by. Her arms are full of dishes to set the table with.

“Amen, sister,” you agree, hot on her heels. She gives you a small smile and hands you the plates, which you accept with a smile of your own.

“Cruel, but true,” Chim sighs. “I met her on this new dating site, just for cops and firefighters, RomancingTheUniform.com. She’s an adrenaline junkie, so foreplay is me telling her stories about running into burning buildings and jumping into icy lakes and…”

“I’m sorry, wait,” Hen interrupts, “remind me: when was the last time you ran into or jumped over anything?”

“...I embellish a little.”

“Oh, noted.”

“So is she a cop or a firefighter?” You ask.

Chim gives you a look. “Why would she be?”

“Well, you said the website is for cops and firefighters,” you repeat. “Doesn’t that make her a cop or a firefighter?”

“Okay, it’s not just cops and firefighters,” Chim cedes, “it’s also for people that want to date cops and firefighters.”

“Ohhh,” you smile, “so cops, firefighters, and badge bunnies. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m telling you, the uniform is a major aphrodisiac,” Chim continues as he brings a salad to the table.

“Yeah, hence the term ‘badge bunny,’” you remark.

The conversation is interrupted by one of the engines backing into the station. You probably should have noticed it was gone, but frankly, as long as your rig is in the bay safe and sound, you don’t care what the meatheads are up to.

Speaking of meatheads…

“Oh good, PB is back,” you remark sarcastically.

‘PB’, aka ‘pretty boy,’ aka Buck. You started calling him Pretty Boy his first day, and over the months, you shortened it. He jogs his way up the stairs and dips a finger in the communal spaghetti bowl. You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee.

“Wash your hands!” Hen scolds as she pulls the bowl out of his reach.

“What if there’d been a call?” Bobby asks as he brings the last dishes to the table.

“I was in the neighborhood!” Buck defends himself. He takes one of the plates from Bobby’s grasp, but instead of passing it around like a normal person, he starts eating the food off the plate with his dirty hands. Sometimes, you wondered if he was raised by a pack of stray dogs.

Bobby starts lecturing Buck, and you smirk with a little satisfaction. Bobby’s going to write him up, and truthfully? It’s a long time coming.

“First infraction, two more, and you’re out,” Bobby says as he steals back the plate. “Wash your hands.”

“You know, you're not helping him by going easy on him,” Chim says once Buck is out of earshot.

“He just needs a little direction,” Bobby replies.

“I’ll remind you of that when he gets us killed,” you mumble.

The alarm bells start to sound through the station. Everyone groans, including yourself. So much for dinner.

Chim decided to catch a ride with the boys in the truck, so that leaves you and Hen in the rig.

“I’m sorry, dispatch,” you say into the radio, “118 RA responding: did you say the baby is in the wall?”

“10-4, 118,” the dispatcher responds. “Caller reports hearing a baby crying in his walls.”

“Copy that, 118 RA clear,” you say before hanging the radio back up. “Well, this will be fun.”

“You think you can play nice with Buck?” Hen asks, a smirk on her face.

“Hey, I’m always nice,” you reply.

“Not to him!” She laughs. “Don’t think I didn’t see you roll your eyes the second he got back to the station.”

“I can play nice and still think he’s a raging idiot,” you defend. “Besides, since when are you his biggest fan?”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Hen chuckles. “And I love you, but you don’t know how to play nice.”

“Why be the bigger person when you can be the bigger problem?”

That remark gets a full belly laugh out of Hen. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

Hen parks the rig behind the engine in front. The boys come pouring out immediately, grabbing various tools and equipment. You make your way to the back of the ambulance, tossing Hen her med bag before picking up your own.

You follow the rest of the crew upstairs, and before you know it, the five of you are standing in some random guy’s apartment, listening for something that probably isn’t real.

“Look, I'm telling you, I heard a baby crying,” the man says. “Someone flushed a baby down the toilet.”

Hen picks up a bong off the counter and gives the man a look.

“I’m not high.”

You both raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, I’m pretty high, but it’s Sativa,” he says. “It makes you happy. It doesn’t make you hallucinate.”

“It could’ve been a rat,” Chim shrugs. “Sometimes rats get stuck in the walls.”

You frown. At the end of his sentence, you swore you heard a cooing sound.

“Shh,” you say to everyone, walking over to the bathroom. “Did you guys hear that?”

They're hot on your heels, watching as you take your stethoscope from around your neck and put it into your ears. You place the bell on the wall and wait. When you hear nothing, you begin rapping your knuckles on the tile until you do. Once again, it’s a faint cooing sound, not unlike a baby.

You then knock your knuckles on the wall until you hear a hollow sound. You take a marker from your pants pocket and mark an ‘x’ over it, knowing the space behind it is hollow. You take the stethoscope out from your ears.

“We need to open up this wall,” you say, pointing to the ‘x.’

“No, we’re being punked,” Chim disagrees. “It’s a tape recorder or something.”

“Maybe not,” Hen says, stepping forward. “Maybe a mother gives birth on the toilet and flushes it.”

“Okay, first of all, that's awful,” Chim says. “Second, do you know how pipes work?”

“If the baby is premature, its bones can bend and compress like sponges,” Bobby mentions. “We need to get in there.”

“Stand back, I got this!” Buck says, swinging his fire axe over his shoulder.

He runs up towards the wall with full intentions of swinging. Hen and Chim move out of the way and shout while Bobby tries to grab him. Ultimately, you’re the one to stop him, and you do it by placing both hands on the axe.

“Hey! Did you even stop to consider that you might hit a baby?!” You shout, adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream.

Buck just stares at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” you spat, pushing the axe out of the way.

“Buck, go get the saw,” Bobby directs.

“Try to find some common sense while you’re down there,” you call after Buck as he walks out.

“Nice catch,” Bobby says, looking at you.

“How nice of me to save the baby from one of the LAFD’s finest first responders,” you reply bitterly.

You can’t help but look at Hen, who quickly looks away. Her avoidance gives you a small sense of victory because this? This shit right here? This is why you can’t play nice with Buck. His head is screwed on backward, and it can get people killed. Playing nice isn’t going to fix that.

Thankfully, Bobby takes the saw from Buck once he brings it up. He makes a few small cuts in the wall before he and the other boys are pulling at the drywall. They quickly expose a massive pipe running behind the toilet.

“That thing is huge,” you remark to Hen.

“It probably connects a bunch of the toilets in the units above this one,” Hen returned.

“So… even with the water turned off…” you start, a sense of dread filling your stomach.

“If someone above us flushes the toilet, it could drown the baby,” Hen finishes. Almost before she finishes the sentence, she’s running into the hall, yelling for people not to flush their toilets. The boys make a few cuts into the pipe, and in no time, they’re taking it to the floor.

“Guys, I can see the head,” you say, joining them on the floor.

They make a few more cuts until the pipe is one straight segment.

“Get the head out,” Chim instructs.

“Yeah, you gotta push from below,” Buck chimes in.

You try that, but the baby isn’t moving. You look to the corner, then at Buck.

“Bring me the defibrillator,” you instruct clearly.

Buck scrambles over, picking up the case.

“Just the lube, Buck,” you rephrase, but he’s already coming back with the whole thing.

“Take it, take it,” Buck says, passing it off to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before grabbing the lube out and tossing the rest of it to the side. You pour some lube on the baby’s head, then down by its feet.

“Work that in,” you tell Chim.

You move your index finger around the circumference of the pipe, brushing the baby’s legs with lubricant as you do so. Then, you gently apply pressure to its feet, and slowly, you can feel it move forward.

“This is gonna be a scoop and run,” you mumble.

“Hen, get the ambulance ready,” Bobby tells her. You’re not sure when she got back, but when you look up again, she’s gone again.

Slowly, the baby’s head emerges from the pipe, and the rest of her body follows.

“She’s not breathing,” you quickly note, “starting CPR.”

You place your index and middle finger in the center of the baby’s chest and press down fast and hard. “Looks like her airway’s obstructed.”

“Buck, get the bulb syringe,” Chim demands. A few seconds pass. “Buck, come on!”

“I’m coming!” Buck barks back, clearly in a panic.

“Come on, pretty girl,” you say quietly as you continue compressions. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Buck returns with the bulb syringe and uses it, but it doesn’t help.

“Dammit,” you curse. “You’ll have to try a blind finger sweep.”

Buck looks at you, then Chimney, then the baby, then back at you. “Me?”

“You gotta learn somehow,” you remark. “It’s easy: just turn her head to the side, curl your pinkie, and see if you can scoop anything out.”

Buck is hesitant initially, but he eventually does as you tell him. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to clear the obstruction, and the baby begins crying. Everyone laughs with relief.

“Let’s get her wrapped up,” you say, reaching for a towel.

The four of you rush down the hall, you with the baby in your arms. The pit in your stomach returns.

“No one held the elevator?!” you yell.

“Dammit,” Chim curses.

“Give her to me,” Buck says, nodding to the stairs.

You stare at him.

“Come on, I’m twice as fast,” Buck pleads.

“Screw this up, and I’ll kill you,” you threaten before carefully handing her over.

Buck takes off down the stairs, but you follow after. There’s only so much that can happen in a few flights of stairs, but you aren’t willing to risk it.

“I got you,” Buck says to the baby, “you’ll be okay.”

A faint smile crosses your face. Maybe Buck isn’t so terrible after all.

“Come on, move it!” Buck shouts as you both make it out of the lobby and out to the rig.

You climb into the ambulance with him, but before either of you can even sit down, you hear someone yelling to wait. It’s not just anyone: it’s LAPD Sergeant Grant, or as you’ve heard Hen calls her, Athena.

“Wait, is that the mother?” Buck says, looking at the young woman with blood-stained pants in someone’s arms. “Yo, screw her! Look what she did!”

Never mind. Buck is still terrible.

“Sit down and shut up!” You yell at Buck. “This is not your call! She is a child, and she’s bleeding out!”

“Look what she did!” Buck repeated.

“Come on, let’s get her up here,” you say to Athena and the man carrying the young girl, disregarding Buck’s protests.

Bobby and Chim made it down, so they help haul the young girl up into the rig. Chim stays at the head while Bobby sits next to Buck, the spot you were about to sit in mere moments ago.

“If this baby dies, it’s on you,” Buck says, staring at Athena.

“Stop talking, Evan,” you snap as someone closes the ambulance doors.

Using his actual name seems to shut him up.

“What’s your name, honey?” You ask the baby’s mother as you cut away her shirt to place EKG leads.

“Marika,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you’re scared, Marika, but you just have to keep breathing for me, okay?” you say. “My friend Howie is going to start an IV so we can give you fluids and medication. You’re bleeding a lot, so I have to do what’s called a fundal exam, okay? I have to press on your stomach to make sure your uterus is contracting back down normally.”

She stares at you, eyes filled with tears, before eventually nodding.

Using one hand to stabilize over the pubis, you begin pressing down the other into Marika’s stomach, a few fingerbreadths below her belly button. She lets out a few whimpers. You don’t feel the fundus, or the top of the uterus, like you should.

“Marika, you’re bleeding a lot because your uterus isn’t contracting. I have to make it contract by doing a fundal massage. It won’t feel that good, but it could save your life.”

Once again, Marika looks at you before nodding. This time, she closes her eyes.

Using firm and consistent pressure, you push one hand down where the fundus should be and make small circles. Marika lets out a few more cries of pain. You notice that, after a few minutes, the bleeding starts to slow, and her uterus firms up beneath your hands.

“Hospital ETA 5 minutes, hang in,” Hen chimes in from the ambulance's cab.

“Something’s wrong,” Buck says, staring at the baby in his arms.

You quickly move over to him. “Put her in your lap so I can see.”

Buck listens, moving away the towel so you can look at the baby. She’s cyanosed around the lips. You flip open a compartment and pull out the neonatal ambu bag. You hand it to Bobby, and you don’t even have to tell him to start bagging.

“I’m so sorry,” Marika says. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Bobby squeezes the bag every other second, delivering a breath to the baby. Her color is starting to look better, but she isn’t very responsive.

“Here, let me try something,” you say.

You gently pick up the baby and set it on Marika’s bare chest. After a few moments, the baby begins to move and cry out.

“Oh my god, why did that work?” Marika asks, wrapping her hands around her baby.

“Skin-to-skin can help babies regulate bodily functions, like temperature and breathing,” you reply as you place a towel over them.

You look over to the men sitting next to you. Bobby gives you a nod, and Buck avoids eye contact, but you can tell that he’s pissed. Fuck him, he doesn’t know his head from his ass anyways.

Once the rig pulls into the ambulance bay, you and Chim help the ER staff get the gurney out of the ambulance. Bobby and Buck follow suit, only Buck tries to follow them into the hospital. Bobby stops him before he does.

Bobby gives Buck some lecture about how we did our jobs, and now it’s their turn; it’s the speech every overly excited first responder gets at least once at the start of their career.

A cop car pulls up, and Athena comes out. She clearly found the person she was looking for, because she starts yelling at Buck.

“You do not get to choose who lives and who dies,” she lectures.

“Really? Because I was under the impression that kind of was my job,” Buck retorts.

You could seriously slap him.

“That mother was no less of a child than her baby,” Athena continues yelling, pointing a finger at the hospital. “You’re gonna get someone killed.”

“Well, maybe, but not today,” Buck says with a cocky head tilt.

You laugh humorlessly. “You know what, Pretty Boy?” you say, turning to Buck.

Fuck it. Bobby won’t put him in his place, and Athena isn’t allowed to, so you take matters into your own hands, literally.

Before you even fully comprehend what you’re doing, you’re wrapping a hand around Buck’s throat and pushing him against the ambulance. You aren’t choking him, but you don’t move your hand because keeping it there is your only leverage.

“I’m getting real tired of this tough guy bullshit,” you growl, your face only an inch from his. He’s quite a bit taller than you, but when you bounced him off the rig, his footing faltered, so he’s crouched at your eye level. “You wanna get real, Evan? You didn’t do a goddamn thing today except get in the way. While we were busy saving lives, you were shitting your pants and dropping the ball, not exactly what a tough guy is supposed to do.”

“Okay, enough,” Bobby says, trying to break it up. You’re far from finished, though.

You move your hand from his neck, but only so you can point it in his face. “You aren’t a god — you don’t decide who lives! You didn’t even save a life today: we did, because you kept fucking up. And if you keep fucking up like you did today, you definitely will kill someone, and your little jokes and midday booty calls and your shitty little grin won’t change that!”

Bobby ends up physically pulling you away while Athena makes some room between the two of you.

“Aren’t you going to arrest her or something?” Buck says, rubbing his neck. “She assaulted me!”

“She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Athena counters. “I promise you, Buckley, the next time you screw up? It’ll be your last.”

Athena casts Bobby a glance before she walks away.

“You,” Bobby says, looking at Buck, “in the truck. Now.”

You start to walk over to the passenger’s side of the cab when Bobby calls after you.

“I want you in my office the second we get back,” He orders.

You clench your jaw. “Yes Captain.”

[eobe]

I stole Captain Gregor's ,Flirtation Mask' for my next mission! 👀✨ The ALT text mission!

For those, who don‘t need the ALT text function: Did you notice, that additionally reading the ALT text and then having a second look on the artwork can change the intake of it massively? The artwork grows. Whispering the artists thoughts, murmuring the tales and adventures behind and broadens the sensing from a quartet onto a whole orchestra! ✨🎶 Depends on the ALT text of course

🫶 My mission goal is to bifrœst my sight of the images I see, not only with my limited drawing Padawan skills, but with words and feelings. So I bred fluffball-feathered-broody-caffeine-soft-hooting-owl 🦉 how to spread my art more and better, to make your eyes, your faces, your hearts, your souls shine 🌈✨

I’m challenging now myself to do at least one additional ALT text for my previous artworks every time I post a new piece of art. And the new pieces only with ALT text and not without anymore! ☝️🤓

If I'm lucky, I may sometimes get into a writing flow and then my brain go brrrrrt and I'll complete this mission faster, but that's really a matter of luck 🍀

If I'm not that lucky, I trawl and crawl through the Banyan-grove woods and Dagobah swamps of my brain on a desperate search for words... No, i won't, I attract and manifest the flow brrrrt ☕️☕️☕️

This might be a strange approach to do the ALT text task why can't I just ,l do the task until it's done with breaks and in time like a normal person’ but I have to circumvent my brain rain to reach the goal. And in ADHD cases this goes with dopamining. So I dopa-mine. Is that a word pun? Dopamine mining? ⛏️✨

The brain rain blockades (but only 3 % of them to not waste your time, absolutely no must read) ☔️

Why did I have not started at the very beginning?? Unknowingness doesn't justify, does it? That's not rhetorical, it's a social-community-rules-things struggle of mine

Am I bad to not thinking of it firstly, visual type of creature me? Should I get an eye bandana Hunter's bandana 🪶 to learn to treasure and appreciate my gift?

Is my English valid and vibrant enough to draw my artworks with words or is everything KAUDERWELSCH 🤯 (German for gibberish)

🙏 What do you think about my ALT text here for the ‚Flirtation mask?' 👀 Please tell me! Let me know! Roast it like a coffee bean! I want to LEARN and IMPROVE so badly, sharing the beautiful worlds my brain tends to roam in best quality 🤩🫶

ALT text description style inspired by the gorgeous template from @ireadwithmyears helping me with the ALT text for my Mayday appreciation artwork. I hope you like it? 🫶

The background story of Captain Gregor's ,Flirtation mask' you'll find here - it's fun brainrot ☝️😎

Taglist: @eclec-tech @lonewolflupe @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit

[justkeeptrekkin]

I think Aziraphale was planning to make a move at the party.

so I went into good omens s2 actively looking up spoilers because I couldn’t cope with watching it and not knowing what the end of the season would have in store. 

I therefore found it REALLY interesting seeing how Aziraphale behaves at the start of his party, considering I knew how he responded to Crowley. 

One instance we see this is how furtive and coquettish he is when he tells Crowley to ‘wait and see’ (seen below). Like there’s a surprise for Crowley, as well. It’s actively flirtatious.

This is the face of a man who is *bashful*. This is a teenager before a school dance. He is excited about Nina and Maggie and nervous and he is living variously through them, of course. I also, genuinely, think he was planning something to do with Crowley. Like, this is the face of a man who has thought to himself, ‘I’m going to show Crowley how I feel about him, and he doesn’t even know it!!!” 

more under the cut:

Then of course we have the DANCE SCENE. This is an explicitly romantic affair that Aziraphale has orchestrated. It’s clear that both Aziraphale and Crowley are projecting massively onto Maggie and Nina, consciously or not. He’s designed this evening to be a meet-cute/match-making event, and Crowley knows this. So yeah, it’s really transparent what Aziraphale’s doing when he asks Crowley to dance.

Thing is, I don’t think he’s being oblivious here. I don’t even think he’s planning on just taking a risk. I think this is Aziraphale making a move. This is Aziraphale being wholly himself, happy, silly, playful, vulnerable, and openly affectionate with Crowley. 

That’s why when Crowley’s trying to warn him that something’s wrong, he ignores it-- it’s scuppering his plans to sweep Crowley off his feet! This evening is meant to be perfect!

Let’s look at the dance invitation moment:

^ The serious look in his eyes here. Like he’s steeling himself to just make that leap of faith and be brave. Knowing that Crowley will probably think he’s taking the piss.

^ the innocent vulnerability of this moment. Tell me this isn’t a much younger Aziraphale asking his crush to dance with him at prom. He’s been planning this and he so desperately wants it to be like how he’s imagined it, but he’s also terrified. Look at how nervous he is! He’s being so brave. You know he’s thinking ‘It’s finally happening! I’m doing it!’

^ a very blurry image of Aziraphale’s nervous little giggle as he takes Crowley’s hand and drags him over for a dance. He’s absolutely buzzing of the anticipation and nervous energy and the butterflies! He’s so happy and so YOUNG here and it is so so pure. god the little laugh he makes as well-- like he knows it’s forbidden, that it’s cheeky and silly, that he’s living his lil Jane Austen dream here. 

Ok, so then we have the moment with Beelzebub and Gabriel. We all have foamed at the mouth at how he looks at Crowley here when he realises that they can run off to Alpha Centauri, too. And that it’s possible for them. When he instinctively grabs Crowley’s arm... good lord. 

It’s like Aziraphale’s dream has come true here. He is seeing validation of what he has started to plan. He’s seeing that this isn’t just a pipe dream that he’s indulging in. He can be happy with Crowley! 

Then of course, Metatron comes along and offers what he thinks -- in his abuse-victim mind-- is the perfect alternative. By going to heaven and bringing Crowley with him, he’s pleasing everyone! (Right?) ((I will discuss this in another post...)

I mean, this is literally all just conjecture, obviously. I am wearing my silly little tin foil hat. but when you pair all of this with the fact that he literally gazes with heart eyes at Crowley for the whole season, is pretty flirty, lets Crowley come to his rescue... we are seeing an Aziraphale here who is acutely aware of his crush on Crowley.

[eff-plays]

What are your thoughts on some of the wording that is used to describe Taash's gender dysphoria in Veilguard?

Anytime their gender identity crisis is discussed, it's always called "non-binary stuff." There is also one character in the wetlands who is non-binary and they say that another character helped them with their "non-binary" stuff.

Surely, the terms gender dysphoria, gender identity crisis, or even just saying "helped me figure out that I was non-binary" would have been better writing.

It feels like they didn't have faith in people to understand other terms or context clues.

Please note that this ask is not meant to be in bad faith and there is no pressure to answer.

I am generally curious if this is an example of bad writing or if non-binary stuff is the correct term over gender dysphoria or gender identity crisis in this context.

I think it all goes back to just using "non-binary" in the game itself. And while I get how some enbies think it's important to use our language to describe us in fiction, and that's a justified opinion to hold, I'm going to disagree. Games with heavy and extensive lore and actual conlangs shouldn't just fall back on hyperspecific modern terms when we all know they're capable of delivering the same message in a way that doesn't lean on the fourth wall or break immersion. Krem, for all the clunkiness that surrounded him, got a whole in-universe explanation for how he fit into the Qun.

Now, to be clear, I'm not saying I value immersion over representation, or that nonbinary people are immersion-breaking. That's an insane opinion to hold. It's just that I, personally, feel more out-of-place and alienated when a fictional world's attempts at including me uses modern terminology. It doesn't tell me that I belong in that world and there is space for me in it, but that there isn't. This vast world, which has fantastical locations and magic and Blighted old gods and dragons, which has room for all of those things, but doesn't have room for language and identities unique to it that might reflect mine? It has to use language that doesn't belong there to explain people that supposedly do? Do you get my issue here? There is an inherent contradiction in this approach.

By not bothering to integrate nonbinary people into Thedas, by falling back on and insisting on modern terminology, BioWare isn't telling me "you're valid, you belong" it's telling me "your presence is so incongruous with our world that we couldn't do anything but use existing terminology to describe you." In their attempt to be inclusive, they just didn't bother to actually integrate nonbinary identities into its world. Then they keep highlighting their own failure by pointing at my identity and telling everyone in their world how valid it is. Imagine you're just existing in a crowd and some motherfucker points you out and goes "YOU. YOU'RE VALID! EVERYBODY LOOK AT HOW VALID THEY ARE!" That's what's bothering me the most. It makes me feel like a freak, not like I belong. And maybe that's a me problem, but given the responses I've seen to my Taash posts, I don't think it is.

Anyway, sorry for that tangent. I don't think gender dysphoria or gender identity crisis would've been better writing, personally. I was pretty confused for why this random NPC told me about their gender identity at all, to be frank. Especially when they, in the first conversation, gave us their pronouns in a very naturalistic way, and Rook + the companions repeated those pronouns later. Like, for me? That, combined with Flynn's very androgynous appearance, was enough to clue me in to who they were. We only have two interactions with this person (AFAIK, if they show up again then I haven't gotten to that point in the game yet), there really doesn't need to be a spot where they clarify their highly personal discovery of their gender identity.

However, if you're very desperate to include this as explicitly as BioWare intends, I have a solution: have them only mention the "non-binary stuff" to a trans and/or nonbinary Rook. My Rook is nonbinary and people know this about them, and since Rook is becoming well-known, people will know their pronouns and identity. So, have Flynn be like "Yeah, my mentor helped me figure myself out. You know how hard it can be to do on your own, Rook." Ya know? Suddenly, you get what they're talking about without having them to be like "ah yes, have I mentioned I am non-binary today?"

I get wanting to make things explicit, but it happens at the cost of believability and actually representing how enbies exist as people. I don't talk to friendly strangers like "I had a hard time figuring out I'm nonbinary, but I got there in the end!" Most of my classmates only know I'm nonbinary because it says so on my Discord profile, and the same goes for the ones I know are nonbinary. Most of it is just clocking each other across the room or hearing other people use our chosen pronouns.

As for Taash's dysphoria ... That's another long-ass can of worms type post that I might make once I'm finished with the game and have a complete image of their storyline. But rest assured, I have plenty of thoughts on that, as well.

[crazyfordilfs]

✮bill kaulitz✮

NSFW headcanons

note: this is my first headcanon so please give me any constructive criticism you have!

he loves to make sure you’re his top priority, he’s doing anything he can to make u finish first

this man loves foreplay

not to mention eating you out is his favourite thing

he could suck on ur clit for hours listening to you being a whimpering mess

the validation he gets from hearing your sweet moans when he eats you out only makes him want to suck on ur clit for longer

u tell him all the time how good his tongue piercing feels on your clit, so he  purposefully makes sure to swirl his tongue ring right on your sweet spot

every time you finish, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs around bill’s head. you know how much he loves your thighs and enjoys when they are wrapped around him. so, whenever you look down at him he always has a cheeky smirk on his face.

now, after he’s made sure you’re satisfied, his dick is twitching after waiting for so long, he’s always so needy for you. and you think it’s so sweet that he pleases you first even tho he’s the one who really needs the attention

he get’s so hard through his pants when eating you out, your moans make him feral

he knows it makes your pussy drip more when you look down and see his dick rock hard and throbbing through his pants

he gets off on seeing you overstimulated by his tongue

his favourite position is missionary, he likes it because every now and then he will suck on your neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear

he’ll wipe your smudged eyeliner and tell you what a mess you are for him.

“your taking me so well my love”

“atta girl”

“being so good for me sweetheart, my good girl”

“you like that hm”

and sometimes, just sometimes when you two wanna play around, he’ll be a sub and make u get on top.. he fucking loves when you ride him

his hand placements are always on point, when he grips onto your hips you can feel a cold sensation of his rings against your skin

every now and then he places a smack on your ass and you watch as he smirks at the effect it had on you because it’s always out of the blue and it takes you off guard sometimes.. he’s so unpredictable

sometimes you tease him and go too slow so you can see him get impatient and eventually start thrusting his hips up into you in desperate need of satisfaction, like i said he’s so needy for you

if he doesn’t have the energy for that he’ll start begging you and look at you with a pouty face in hopes that you’ll go merciless on his cock

“please pretty girl, you know how much i need you”

“go crazy on me, use me as your toy”

“please mommy, my dick hurts”

note: i am literally drunk while writing this 😭

[allmannerofmalady]

In continuation of my clownery, I started a new DATV playthrough because my beloved Inquisitor looked so jarring I had to remake her and replay like 20 hours of the game. But hey, I made peace with the fact that I am playing DATV to wrap up Inquisition and get an ending scene at this point, I'm not currently foreseeing a second playthrough, so I gotta do it right, y'know?

Spoilers, and me complaining at extreme length, yet again, about my own personal expectations vs reality into the void. Please ignore if DATV negativity is something you prefer to stay away from, protect your peace & what you enjoy.

So I replay HOURS. I'm having fun killing everything as fast as I can - I don't know what it is about playing as a rogue in this game that has tickled my ADHD brain so much, but I'm surprisingly really good at the arrow bonanza and relentless enemy aggro?! This turn based bitch? I digress.

I see my bb Inquisitor Lavellan - she still doesn't look like herself, but I can live with it. She got some ill-advised fillers in Tevinter, she's been through a lot, let her LIVE.

This time around my strategy is pure lore hunting. I'm getting every codex, I'm SQUEEZING this playthrough for whatever lore/easter eggs I can get because idk if I'm going to play again. I got all of Solas' murals early on, got Mythal's essence before Weisshaupt even, I think. BUT WAIT! I have one more treat! The locked room in the Lighthouse! Solas' study! There must be something juicy for all the effort, right? RIGHT? :'D

I know it's been beaten to death, but PERSONALLY, the game still feels incredibly flat to me, jarringly so. If I'm in the Dreadwolf's home, I want to snoop. I want Rook to look through his library, his books, his garbage bin. I even remember the devs saying they wanted being in the Lighthouse to feel an old friends house, or something? I could be wrong, my brain is fried. It's not just a Solas thing - I'm playing this game because I'm desperate for info about the characters I love, but as Rook, we are IN Solas' HQ and I want to rip open the floorboards. I'm trying to RP as much as I can RP in this G.

Anyway, I was so thirsty for something more, something deeper than just these lovely environments I cant do much with, and notes on how Solas hoards raisins - so I collected the wisps and did all the things to unlock the second door in the Lighthouse, forever booboo the fool, thinking I would get some juicy content or something. Trying to stay positive.

No. NO. I got some gear, another empty room Rook has no comments on, and fine, some of Solas' observations on the anchor. It does seem to confirm he kept the Inquisitor’s arm aaaand I love him your honour.

Back to backflipping and shooting arrows in the air, and wanting to grab Emmrich by the beautiful lapels to shake him and ask about the Pentaghast family. Where's my WIFE --

On to the Weisshaupt mission, which was actually ridiculously fun to play - until I was told Weisshaupt is gone haha wow great love that at least the Inquisitor & gang are keeping Southern Thedas safe *subtle foreshadowing* 😃🤞 weeee

I was SO MAD at myself for expecting more like the clown that I am, it was something dumb but just annoyed me all over again and got me all… opinionated 🫠

So, I'm mad again. I cannot begin to articulate my feelings about the incredible amount of storylines and lore we've lost with the decisions made in DATV's writing - they've already been written so eloquently by much greater minds than myself. SO I'm just laughing my way through the pain 🤡

People pleaser that I am, I see other creators I've followed and loved for ages defend the game's choices, tell others they lack media literacy, that your criticisms mean you have rose tinted glasses about the previous games - whatever, your opinion can be valid without tearing others down. So, I genuinely thought something was wrong with me for being so hung up on details. But I can't even engage in fan theories anymore because I'm so jaded at this point. When I see new deep dives into lore-based theories on the game, 99% of the time my mind goes "There is no deeper meaning. They just wanted to wrap it up." Why do you think this thing happened? What do you think that thing is hinting? Nothing. And this is coming from someone who played all the games, owns all the novels, art books, World of Thedas I and II, the bloody Inquisitor lamp from the BioWare store LOL, I was primed and ready to engage in these conversations, but I can't. I have nothing to say that won't end in a cynical answer, and maybe that's because I'm also jaded by working in the game-adjacent VFX industry.

The factions are, yet again, fun but shallow, the logic confusing, and lack much of a backstory for Rook (I think Grey Wardens and Mourn Watchers seem to be the best developed from other reviews and playthroughs, I've only played extensively as a Shadow Dragon, to be fair). Why are you a mage in this one faction? Why are you a rogue in another when it doesn't make sense without a story to support it? It's all this beautiful candy floss that melts away the minute I stop and think about it. And then the cynic in me thinks - these are probably vestiges of the live service part of the game that EA was pushing for. I have to slap myself and stop looking for deeper meaning within corporate decisionsssss there is no swimming pool behind that closed door you needed 7 wisps for 😃

I desperately did not want this to be the case. I was hyped. I preordered the game and organized vacation around it, I'm too old and dealing with way too many crappy personal things to just be a hater for the sake of being a hater. Gaming and Dragon Age are my comfort spaces. But for the LIFE of me, I can't imagine playing DATV again once I finish, let alone more times than I can count like the previous games. Or imagine listening to 4 hours of Youtube videos of party banter to analyze, or even imagine how companions would react to certain things because they feel so stiff. Everything is beautiful, but sterile.

I do love Emmrich - I'm enjoying his storyline and romance, it's like the loveliest most whimsical Vincent Price Pixar romance, but still, something is always missing with the characters even as some do grow on me. I can't imagine anything close to just the party banter ALONE between Solas and Iron Bull. Cole. Fenris and Anders. And to be clear - the whole DA was GRITTY and DARK, DAO supremacy - NOT ME. I love all the games but they have always been whimsical and silly, cringey at times, and did not take themselves seriously. I remember doing the quest where Hawke is running around trying to keep Aveline's date with Donnic from going south, cracking up at how ridiculous it was, and just thinking - gods I LOVE this game.

Speaking of romance, while I'm enjoying how sweet the romance with Emmrich is, when I see others complaining about lack of spice... ahem. I still cannot get over the art style when it comes to characters. This is subjective, and a me problem - I still find it jarring. I don't like the proportions, the bloom, how smooth everyone looks. They still mostly look like cartoons to me, with no body hair and the big heads, and I find everyone's hands so distracting because they look like plasticine. I'm ok with no spice between these characters with their current designs lol let me leave it at that. Ok, except for Felassan and Solas, chef's kiss, no notes.

Solas and story elements directly around him still mostly hold the familiar weight, for the most part. I think credit goes to his amazing VA and the strength of what was likely written for his arc from the very start, before the rewrites and dev hell the game went through. I still have opinions, obviously, but even as a ride or die Solavellan I don't like having the Solavellan angle hijack conversations, so I'm not going to go there. If I'm going to criticize stuff I'll do it as a gamer/DA fan first, egg lover and apologist second.

As I reach the end of Act 2, the game continues to makes me feel like I'm stripped of all agency after a lifetime of playing choice-based games. I talk to companions when it allows me to, then they are relegated to set dressing. My conversation choices all feel the same, or don't match what I'm choosing sometimes. The Lighthouse does not feel like the vibrant hub it was sold as. I am on quests I mostly cannot accept or reject. I cannot interact with my surroundings unless it is gameified (light a candle, move a crystal). The companions abilities are all just - platforming? I know I sound hyperbolic, but it's all I can see currently.

I played Persona 5 from end to end, twice. I played FFXVI. I loved both, had no issues with their linear storytelling, and how the game led you to their end points. Those games are not DA, they did not have the expectations you would have from a BioWare title 10 years in the making. You were not lured in by tales of an incredible character creator, teased about what might be coming from previous games, told this was a sequel to an immersive fantasy RPG series in a beloved fantasy world where the defining studio mechanic was CHOICES MATTER, even when they changed a lot of other things from title to title. In P5/FFXVI you were Clive, you were Joker, you were playing out their story. They were not direct sequels to anything. I'm loathe to be seen as a mindless critic who just wants to shit on things, but a part of me does feel emotionally manipulated for $$$. I still resent how much hype was built for the game by maligning the previous ones (we're fixing Inquisition's mistakes!!).

I'm back to my mission of finishing the game I paid for, enjoy what I can, and get my Solavellan ending scene cause I'm down BAD for literally the only ship I have ever shipped🧍🏻‍♀️I appreciate that it was included. But also - wow does it exacerbate what wasn't included for everyone else's choices.

Something I hate is how everyone immediately jumped on the Baldur's Gate 3 comparisons - BG3 was a life changing game for me, but it's not perfect, and the comparisons are not fair. The one thing I will say is that when I first played BG3, despite its issues and the later criticisms of how Larian reacted to pressure from fans, I remember my earliest impression was - it feels good to be respected as a player. I didn't feel the game was talking down to me, and I got SO much for what I paid for (700 hours baybeee). Jaheira and Minsc were included as companions in homage to the previous games. Yes, they did Viconia dirty, nothing is perfect - but for example, Jaheira would tell you about her husband Khalid from the original games, which came out in 1998 and 2000. There was a lot of world building/easter eggs that not everyone was familiar with or even noticed, because not every player played BG1 and 2, or were familiar with DND 5e - but it was included. Drizzt Do’urden was mentioned ffs, they didn’t overthink about who read those books or not. I’m aware of my biases and I may very well be looking through rose tinted glasses, but I did not feel like the information was presented like I was dumb, or "ah they'll never understand this - SCRAP IT". It just feels like it’s there to honour the past and out of love for the world Larian were playing in.

—> edit to say that I do notice and enjoy the codex entries, callbacks to Tevinter Nights, Masked Empire, the older games. I wish that care and detail was woven into the main story and overall end product and not just background fluff. I know others are satisfied with those additions, wish that were me. I saw a tweet saying that every callback to a previous game or storyline actually pissed them off even more lol, I relate.

I don't feel that respect for the player in DATV, I'm sorry. There is love there, but as hard as I try, it feels like it's there despite of the overall design of the game, not part of it. I keep remembering interviews before the game was released and things that were promised, and I don't see it. At all. No more meaningless fetch quests!! Most companion-focused game! The quests are largely boring or formulaic, but addictive and fun because they are so packed with mindless combat that my brain enjoys. Sometimes it feels like filler - we didn't know what to add here, FIGHT! You unlocked a poignantly named gate in the Crossroads? NO STORY MORE FIGHT! And I'm eating it up, let me not be a hypocrite, I have 80 hours in the game. But personally, it feels designed to pad out this beautiful, sometimes fun, but bitterly shallow game. I can't even go into companion specifics because I have nothing to say, no story I want to analyze. Some have grown on me, but there is no bite or nuance to the writing that compels me and I have no urge to know more. In the previous DA games I would take the long route wherever I went just to get more banter from my companions, and I was instantly interested in them, even if I disliked them. I've seen the comments, I tried, I don't think it's because "I haven't spent enough time" with the DATV companions.

The level design of long narrow corridors, which do remind me of DA2 and FFXVI, has become so predictable to me that I almost always know exactly where I'm going to find loot. So it becomes this admittedly satisfying run of grabbing and fighting to the end point, getting the dopamine hits of collecting pointless stuff, but not really taking in the environments and enjoying the adventure. The level design is not immersive. These do not feel like real cities or real people, and that was intentional. It feels like “levels”, not a World. No one reacts to a single thing you do. Even in the ultra minimalist style of Zelda BOTW, townspeople would react to things you did. Sometimes I walk up to yet another obvious fight arena where the enemies are just chilling, waiting for me while standing still - almost like they're on shift at a haunted house LOL. I can imagine the Venatori stubbing out a cigarette, "C'mon guys, she's here, showtime". The funny part is this has all been seen before in older games, and it never bothered me. My own expectations and overhype might be to blame, but it feels like a big step back when so many games are stepping forward. Me = clown

I keep going back to my first reaction when the disappointment hit me. It feels like being given Persona 5 Strikers or Hyrule Warriors, and told that it's the sequel to the actual RPG. It's fun, it wears the skin of the thing you like that makes you happy, but stops there.

Other things I shake my fist at

Cheap ass The 6th Sense ass Varric death. Yes, yes, Solas villain arc whatever - it was cheap. Way to honour a multi-game beloved character and the player, even if the time had come for him to die in the story.

No, I cannot find a single redeeming reaction from a companion that makes Varric dying make sense in hindsight, except that they are all made of cardboard. I saw comments saying on a second playthrough it's clear Harding is in mourning - sorry, I don't see it.

So. Dorian, the Inquisitor, Charter, Harding, your party, Maevaris, Isabella, list goes on - not a single one of them asks about Varric or mentions his death? Expresses condolences? Nothing? Cheap. Even if Solas was playing with your mind, doesn't it make the overall characters in the game seem even more wooden and unrealistic to the player? It was not the gotcha they seem to think it is.

When the novelty of the cameos and the emotion associated wore off, they were just flat and felt random. Cassandra should have been there, doing Seeker shit (my WIFE). Ok no cameo? Casual dialogue with Emmrich about having a Nevarran in the Inquisition (or as the Divine?!) Lucanis info dumping about Josephine as an Antivan, Zevran as a Crow, nvm, time for a coffee joke. Merrill, eluvian queen, how is she a nonentity? Habibi Fenris should have been in the Shadow Dragons, spitting on the ground after being approached by Solas to join his uprising (lol what uprising amirite). Ok I'm cooking hire me Bioware 🍳 but at least they can remain untainted by the Isabella Treatment (tm)

This leads into the yeeting of the Keep, world states, choices, and hypocrisy around claiming to want to level the playing field for new players. No, all I can see is - it was treated as a buffet that they picked from as it suited. This is the one disappointment I will never let go of. Facsimile's of beloved character cameos were tossed in, you could not really talk to them outside of what limited dialogue you were allowed. Certain world states are now canon apparently - Dorian being recruited in the Inquisition, Morrigan drinking from the Well etc. You want a reboot and you've committed to tossing the choices and burning down Thedas (literally)? Go down with GLORY! Have all the previous main characters/companions alive. Have them all mentioned, even in passing. A portrait on a wall. Say goodbye to them, get your reboot. Honour what you built your business on. But yeah, Emmrich and Harding get to have their picnic in Fereldan fml bye

The argument of: well, the games are old now, it shouldn't matter. Ah - not too old to capitalize on the IP and DA name? Not too old to use some cameos to lure old players? The argument of - it was too many choices to track. Ok cut them down, but don't go scorched earth? 3 choices, mostly irrelevant to those who don't care about Solas (could never be me), and then literally telling you everything else in the South and Weisshaupt is now razed to the ground. But also the illuminati did everything.

FINALLY - the Inquisition should have been in charge of the hunt for Solas, hill I will die on. Fine, have Rook, but Inquisitor should have been the other protagonist. The people... who knew Solas best and betrayed by him... who were in an organization to save the world... Why did we have that cunty dagger stabbed into the map of Tevinter cliffhanger to have the Inquisitor reduced to a pyjama wearing husk BIOWAAAAAAAARE

It's this stuff that builds up, and makes me think - does this game hate its fanbase and source material that much? I very obviously need to go touch some grass 🤠

I keep engaging with Reddit, Tumblr, Twitter - all to my detriment because it makes me feel like there's something wrong with me for not loving it, all over again. I also desperately have a fic in me I would love to write, an ode to the story in my head from years of loving the world of Thedas, a love letter to my Lavellan and others - but idk what to do with the post-DATV world atp. I just want to get through Act 2/3, get my Solavellan smooch, ignore the ~secret Illuminati ending, and be grateful I'm not a Mass Effect fan so I don't have to go through this again 🐣

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Fateful Love in Motion

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

2024 General Election (JP)

ღ Prologue

That night, upon arriving at Ōoku.

Mai: "Nngh, come on!"

I was desperately trying to climb the mansion wall.

Kanetsugu: "What are you doing up there? Get down."

Mai: "Kanetsugu? Whoa!"

Kanetsugu caught me as I lost my footing.

Kanetsugu: "If you're going to fall in a panic, don't climb in the first place."

Mai: "S-Sorry."

Kanetsugu: "So, who gave you this idea?"

Mai: "Huh?"

Kanetsugu: "Who helped you?"

Mai: "No one! I just wanted to get out of here."

Kanetsugu: "You mean you were trying to escape without any plan? That's a sloppy move for a princess."

Mai: "But I couldn't stand it! I understand my responsibility to take over the family, but it's only possible with the right partner."

Mai: "It's not okay to get close to someone you don't respect or date multiple people simultaneously!"

Kanetsugu: "You're right. Your point is valid."

Mai: "Really?"

Kanetsugu: "But if you're dissatisfied, don't act impulsively. Plan your moves and outsmart those around you."

Kanetsugu: "If you're that determined, I can at least help you become wiser."

Mai: "You're not going to tell my father?"

Kanetsugu: "Your methods are wrong, but I agree with your stance."

Kanetsugu: "Even if you're a princess, your dignity as a person should come first."

Mai: "………"

(He respects me not just as a princess but as a human being.)

It was from this moment that I started to like him.

The very next day, his lessons began.

Kanetsugu: "Your father has instructed me to educate you through Chinese poetry."

Kanetsugu: "However, the essence of poetry and songs is not merely their beauty; it lies in their spirit and passion."

Kanetsugu: "Understand the thoughts and emotions of the poet, and make them your own."

Mai: "Got it!"

A few days later一

Kanetsugu: "Are you an idiot? You can't even distinguish between Mencius and Confucius."

Mai: "Ugh. Please, one more time!"

Kanetsugu: "You seem to have more guts than I thought."

Mai: "It's because you're serious about teaching me. I want to give it my all in response."

Kanetsugu: "That's the only thing I'll praise you for."

(He smiled for the first time.)

I immersed myself in studying, wanting to see him smile again.

Sometime later一

Father: "Enough is enough. If you have time to read books, choose a husband!"

Mai: "With all due respect, Father, this is for our family's sake."

Mai: "If I lack education, I won't be able to pick a good husband. The quality of the husband directly affects the quality of the heir. It's a serious matter, you know?"

Father: "Kuh. You've become unusually clever!"

I let out a sigh of relief as his footsteps faded away.

Kanetsugu: "I see. That was a good comeback."

Mai: "It's the first time I've outwitted my father! Although, it seems like it'll be the first and last."

Kanetsugu: "Is your escape plan ready?"

Mai: "Yes. I'll leave for the port tonight and set sail."

Mai: "That's why you should escape with me!"

Kanetsugu: "What?"

Mai: "I love you. I've made preparations so we can be together."

Kanetsugu: "What are you saying?"

Mai: "I'll become even smarter to avoid being caught. I'll do anything to live with you."

Mai: "I love you."

Kanetsugu: "........."

Kanetsugu: "I have no right to be with you."

Mai: "Huh?"

Kanetsugu: "If you leave the palace, you will lose everything. Initially, I intended to dissuade you from escaping."

Kanetsugu: "But I grew attracted to you and became selfish, not wanting to give you to another man."

Kanetsugu: "So I taught you how to survive. Someone as insincere as I am doesn't deserve your love. And yet..."

Kanetsugu: "I don't want to give you to anyone else. I want you in my arms."

Mai: "Please, love me!"

Unable to hold back, I hugged him, and a sweet scent filled the air.

Mai: "I don't think you're insincere. The fact that you helped me when I was about to flee without a plan remains unchanged."

Mai: "So please, live with me."

We kissed over and over again, pledging our love to each other.

ღ Collection Events Masterlist

[iikatsukii]

betray, believe.

synopsis: you are beyond pissed off at ao’nung for leaving your twin outside the reefs. how can you trust someone who continues to betray you?

pairings: ao’nung x loak’stwin!reader

warnings: cussin’ thats it. oh and minor violence and one a drop of blood.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: yall i don't know what this is so please don't ask

you had felt stabbed in the back before. it isn't a pleasant feeling when you trust someone and they end up betraying you. but no matter how in love with ao'nung you were. this was the final straw for you. 

you had been crying all day, arguing with and avoiding ao'nung because your twin, lo'ak, was missing. 

"ao'nung, leave me alone!!" you screamed over your shoulder, walking away from the metkayina boy who was trying to walk after you. 

"y/n, please just listen to me. it was a mistake. it was meant to be a harmless prank–" you cut him off, appalled by what he was saying.

"mistake? harmless prank? leaving my twin brother outside the reef was a fucking joke to you, ao'nung? in case you do not fucking remember, WE ARE NOT FROM HERE! we do not know how to get around, and we do not know the outside of the reefs!! so how the fuck did you even think that he would be able to find his way back? let alone defend himself with no weapon! did you even think before you did this? did you think about how i would've felt if he got hurt–?" every curse word was punctuated with a shove to ao'nung's chest, but you couldn't even finish your sentence, getting choked up at the thought of your brother being hurt. more than sad, you were furious. 

you had told ao'nung time and time again that you wanted to give him a chance but that he had to get over the childish beef he had with your twin brother lo'ak and your sister kiri. he would repeatedly promise to leave them alone, and you would foolishly believe him. every single time one of your siblings came back, telling you that ao'nung had messed with them, it felt like you were being stabbed in the back all over again. it didn't feel good, and you ensured that you gave the boy an earful after every incident.

but this time was different. 

ao'nung had left your twin outside the reef, alone, with no weapons and no way home. lo'aks ilu showed up injured earlier, the healers immediately trying to tend to its wounds. however, the imagery of the blood trailing behind the ilu could only bring paranoid thoughts to your head. 

if his ilu barely made it alive. then what happened to your brother. 

the boy who had fallen head over heels for you was conflicted. of course, he wasn't thinking about how you would've felt. he was just thinking about getting back at your brother for the brawl they had earlier. but never in a million years did he think you would've reacted this bad. granted, your reaction was 100% valid. if someone he loved had done this to his sister, he wouldn't have even given them a chance to ask for forgiveness. yet here you were, willingly arguing with him, giving him a chance to explain himself even though he knows all his sorrys and pleas are falling on deaf ears.

"y/n, i am sorry. i will do anything. please just let me explain." ao'nung was desperate. you had been like a breath of fresh air the second he spoke to you. he has never found anything that's made him happier than you. he couldn't lose you because of a stupid mistake. 

before you could say another word, the horns of the clan were blown, indicating the missing person had been found. you couldn't tell if your heart sank or grew warm. 

he's okay

your brother is back, and he's alive. he's okay

you ran to where you noticed villagers gathering, seeing lo'ak thanking the man for returning him to shore. 

"lo'ak," you called, running over to your twin, pulling him into the tightest hug possible before hearing him wince, pulling back just as fast. 

"oh my gosh, are you okay? are you hurt?" right now, you felt more like lo'ak's mom than his twin sister, but it made him happy to see that someone had actually been worried about him being gone. ignoring your question, lo'ak rested a hand on the back of your head, bringing your face to his chest as he pet your head, soothing the sobs you left out. 

"i'm sorry for worrying you, baby sister." lo'ak said, looking down at you. in all honesty, he was just as worried about you as you were about him. all he could think about was if they were messing with you and kiri while he was abandoned out at sea.

you scoffed, pushing your brother back. "i'm not a baby; we're twins." 

your conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the chief, his wife, and his son. you glared at ao'nung, ready to out him for his actions, but your brother, face looking just as mad as you, started walking towards the boy who had faced your rage earlier. your father was quick to get to the scene, though, preventing lo'ak from doing anything stupid.

"woah, woah, let me get a look at you, yeah?" barely briefly looking over his son, jake spoke to the people once more. "he's fine! just a few scratches." your father announced, causing you to roll your eyes. your mother approaches swiftly to see her youngest son standing, alive and safe.

"i pray for the strength that i will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son–" but you cut your mother, startling everyone. 

"lo'ak has done nothing wrong," you said out loud. "this was not his fault, and you will not punish him for something that is someone else's wrongdoing," you said, making eye contact with ao'nung as you spoke. 

"y/n is right. my son knows better than to take him outside the reef." tonowari pushed his son down by his neck, the boy kneeling in apology. "the blame is his."

you sighed, happy that tonowari wasn't making this a bigger issue than it needed to be. you were ready to hear ao'nung's apology until you heard a different voice speak up.

"no. this is not ao'nungs fault. this was my idea. he tried to talk me out of it. really–" your brother spoke up.

"really? lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan do not say lies. he took you there and left you defenseless, knowing you know nothing about the reefs. it is his fault alone, and i will not allow you to take the blame for this." you were stubborn. why was lo'ak trying to take the blame?

"no, y/n. it was me– AH!" jake grabbed lo'ak's arm way harder than necessary. 

"this was your idea, boy–" jake was cut off by a loud hiss, unsure of where it had come from until he looked towards you. your fangs were bared, and your eyes shot knives into your father's. 

you had never hissed before. never a day in your life. unlike the rest of your family, you always wanted to choose peace over war. but for your brother, you would go to war and back if it meant protecting him. you were tired of how your father treated you like his perfect little princess but then treated your twin like he was nothing but scum to this family. your hiss shocked everyone; it was vicious, cruel, and protective. not many noticed, but you even had your hand near your bone knife, ready to draw it if your dad decided to test your resolve anymore. 

"let him go. you are not about to take him home so you can degrade him like you have done every single day of his life." your voice dripped with malice, 100% directed toward your father. everyone around you remained speechless. "how can you call yourself a father when all you do is give your children orders. this is a fucking family, and until you get that through that thick ass skull of yours, you may not lay another hand on my brother, so i suggest you remove your hand before i do it for you, jake sully," calling your father by his real name is what turned on the lights on jakes brain. he started to realize how orderly he treated his kids, never really allowing them to be kids. 

the target of your rage changed quickly as you grabbed your bone knife, turned, and pounced on ao'nung. the boy lands on his back, his hands up in surrender as you held your knife to his neck. nobody bothered to try to remove you from the boy, deeming you out of control and not wanting you to unnecessarily injure anyone. ronal saw how tonowari was going to remove you from his son but halted his actions.

"–and you, ao'nung, how can you call yourself the future leader of this clan when you put the lives of innocent people who seek refuge in your clan in anger? is this what the metkayina are to expect of their future leader? how could you endanger someone who has no knowledge of life in the water? hm? what would you have done if he died ao'nung? because i sure know what i would've done if he had–" you said, pressing your knife into his neck harder, noticing crimson starting to reach the surface. before you could do any real damage, your mother pulled you off the boy. 

"excuse us." neytiri said as she dragged her twins home into their mauri. she pulled all the curtains, closing all the flaps, so their family could have some privacy. 

"are you crazy!!? holding a knife to the olo'eyktans' son's neck!? are you trying to get us kicked out of this clan?!" your mother scolded, hitting you upside your head. you hissed back at her, pissed that she even had the nerve to question your actions right now. 

"why are you always so concerned with reputation and practice and people. WORRY ABOUT YOUR DAMN KIDS. LO'AK COULDVE DIED," you yelled back. 

"he didn't. he's fine-" your father tried to interject, but you interrupted him.

"and that's exactly your fucking problem, sully. he. could. have. died. and all you can think of is 'well he didn't. he's fine' FUCK THAT. YOU DON'T CARE THAT YOU ALMOST LOST YOUR SON?!" you asked the man before you, who you were beyond pissed off at.

"i do care, y/n. also, i am your father. watch how you speak to me, young lady."

"if you're a father, then fucking act like one instead of acting like quaritch. if you wanna be a man who gives orders and doesn't care about the lives of others, then fine. but i am done. WE are done," you finished your sentence, grabbing your brother's wrist as the two of you called for your ilus. lo'ak said he wanted to show you something, so the two of you swam back out to three brothers rock. 

that night you met payakan, and both you and lo'ak bonded with the tulkun.

the next few days came and went, and you felt like things were starting to change. 

your father apologized to all of you. he called a family meeting, apologizing to each of his kids individually for his wrongdoings as a father. not only did he apologize, though, but he also started being a father. he would go hunting with neteyam, focusing on enjoying time with his son rather than correcting his form and nagging him for missing a shot. he would go with kiri to the spirit tree so she could connect to it just so he could make sure she was safe. he would play on the beach with tuk, splashing around with her, playing any silly games she asked him to play. 

you felt like a family. he had especially been trying to make it up to you and lo'ak, your brother, more than you. it was a bit weird for lo'ak at first, but once he got comfortable, they were inseparable. 

now that all is right with your family, it gives you more time to think about yourself and the empty feeling in your heart. you sat alone on the shore, allowing the tide to brush against your legs as you stared into the sea.

"y/n," the voice was one you hadn't heard in a while. mainly because you had been avoiding the boy, but you knew this intervention was inevitable. 

"what do you want, fish boy." hearing you call him by the old insult you used to call him hurt, but he didn't comment on it because he knew he deserved it. 

"i know my apologies mean nothing to you. but please just hear me out. i promise after this, if you really want, i won't ever speak to you again, just let me make peace with you. please," you could hear how hoarse his voice was, almost as if he had been crying before he got here. you turned to look at him, his red puffy eyes confirming your suspicions. 

"you have sixty seconds to explain yourself," you told the boy, not really in the mood to hear his excuses. when you noticed he hadn't moved from where he stood, you looked over your shoulder. 

"fifty-nine…" you said menacingly, but it got the boy out of whatever trance he was in. he quickly came to sit next to you, clearing his throat as he began to speak. 

"sevin, look, i am so sorry, okay? i know that means nothing to you right now, but i really do mean it." the boy started. his hand came up to the bandage on his neck, bringing him back to that night. he wasn't the slightest bit upset that you had almost killed him. in fact, he was about to accept fate had you dragged the knife across his throat. "i have been thinking about what you said that night, and you are right. to behave like that as someone who is supposed to lead this clan is unacceptable. i made sure my father issued the proper punishments for myself and the guys who helped me." you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his words. so what? he got punished. if it were up to you, you would've taken his ass to the forest and left him there, just like he did your brother, to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

"i have also been training like crazy because i want to be an olo'eyktan worthy of serving and protecting my people and my family. i want to be worthy enough to protect you. so please let me prove myself to you. y/n, you are the light of my life. from the day you got here, i have been drawn to you, so please let me earn your forgiveness." he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. you shrugged him off, shying away, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

and then his hand guided your chin, turning your face so the two of you made eye contact. 

"let me earn you, y/n. i will court you the way an omatikayan man should–"

"you know nothing of the omatikaya ways." you hissed. there was no real bite to it as you processed his words. though you were still upset, you could see how genuine he was being. he really was trying, and you hated how your heart begged you to believe him this one last time.

"i will ask your father and your brothers for help. right after, i ask for their forgiveness and their blessing. i want to do this right, but only you're willing to let me." it felt like falling all over again. you were so internally conflicted, you wanted to hate him, but you wanted to love him. wanted to punch and kiss him. wanted to bury him but also marry him and have his kids. your brain and your heart were at war.

he's only lied to you.

but you're in love with him.

he's not trustworthy.

everyone makes mistakes.

who's to say he isn't lying now?

i can see it in his eyes.

"you're being honest?" you asked him breathlessly. 

you don't know when your body turned to face him or when you placed your hands on his cheeks, but it only helped you look into his eyes.

"i swear my life on it. i want nothing more than to make you happy, sevin. seeing you cry and upset, i never want to see you unhappy ever again. especially if it is my own doing." ao'nung made sure he didn't break eye contact with you so you could read into him, allowing himself to be an open book. 

"how did you know i would forgive you?" you asked, unsure of how he knew you would forgive him before you knew you would forgive him.

"you are wearing the apology gifts i have been sending you. the top, that bracelet, the shells in your hair. you even have the beads in your braids, sevin. i knew that even if you didn't realize, you still harbored a small bit of love for me, so i knew if i tried just one more time, maybe, just maybe, you would realize it too." you held the boy you loved close to you, sighing as your heart once again felt complete. 

"i am so sorry, sevin–"

"ao'nung, if you apologize to me one more time, i swear i will feed you to my ikran for lunch tomorrow," you said as you leaned against him. ao'nung hesitated for a second before allowing himself to relax against your touch. you had forgiven him, so there was no reason to be tense anymore. from here on, he had vowed to himself to never be the reason you wore anything a smile.

[kyouka-supremacy]

hello!

I saw your recent post and you hinted that Atsushi is actually kinda twisted and that yoh don't agree with his morals?

If its alr with you, do you mind elaborating? ❤️

Alright, to be fair, I *am* self aware enough to realize a lot of what I say about Atsushi is probably fairly detached from canon. When push comes to shove, he's just a guy trying to get through. A polite dude. I like to stretch on how a lot of his well-mannered behaviour and his desperate attempt to prove himself good are moved by deeply selfish reasons of validating his own right to live, but that said, that doesn't make him inherently evil, either.

Atsushi's double morality is something that comes up a lot, so please check out these posts!! (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8). But overall... Is a good action that is done for deeply selfish reasons, still good? I'm not sure. But when I watched the anime for the first time, and in episode 8 it turned out that Atsushi was not helping the train passengers out of spontaneous inclination to help people in need, but rather just due to a self-interested aim to validate his own right to live... Idk, it didn't positively impress me? I was even less positively impacted by the later line “people can't live unless someone tells them ‘it's okay to go on’! ” The thing is, both scenes feel like more of the author's underlying worldviews that end up being conveyed through the series' protagonist, and that's a consideration to be made by its own– it's not an issue I have with Atsushi specifically, as much as me fundamentally disagreeing with most of bsd's perspectives on the world, as I've already said before.

But that doesn't change the fact that Atsushi is fundamentally selfish¹, does it? The difference is - I think - that for the author, more or less all people are, while to me no one is born selfish. But that still makes Atsushi not really morally virtuous, and I think that's narratively interesting to explore by its own!!! What if there was a character who only did good because (he thinks) that's the only way he has the right to live? What if there was someone who believed the right to live had to be owned in the first place? After having overcome the admittedly jarring sentiment I felt when first engaged with the character, I must admit those are some compelling concepts to explore, even despite disagreeing with the underlying morals.

At the end of the day, it's just a complex nature of the character? I like to emphasize on Atsushi's uncommendable selfishness especially as opposite to Akutagawa's hidden selflessness; but all said, a man who tries to do good despite it not being his first nature is a better man than any of us, isn't he?

¹ And Atsushi is profoundly selfish. I think that Beast in particular proves that he's ready to commit evil just as much as in canon he is to do good, if it's to pursue the goal of his own survival. The first thing we see him do, at the very start of the series, is, symbolically, contemplating robbing other people for his own survival (though in real life I would never judge someone's morality in life and death situations... But maybe since this is fiction, that can still hold narrative value). He will stop acting good as long as it's no longer required of him (each of his interactions with Akutagawa). Maybe it's a little pessimist way to interpret the manga, but perhaps still a consistent one?

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 2 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: descriptions of gun violence, mental health issues/suicide ideation (nothing overly graphic IMO)

Unlike some people who work in this building, you know how to take orders. So, instead of dragging your feet and prolonging the inevitable, you go to Bobby’s office the second you get back from the call. Hen tries to say something to you, but you’re so focused on having this conversation behind you that you ignore her. 

Despite the door being cracked open, you knock a few times. 

“Come in,”  Bobby says. 

You step in. He looks up. 

“Ah,” he remarks as if it’s a surprise to see you. “You can close the door behind you.” 

You close the door and lean against it. 

“Have a seat,” Bobby instructs as he files through some random papers. 

You let out a sigh. You were hoping to be in and out, but Bobby clearly has other ideas. Still, you do as you’re told. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Buck.”

As if you’d be in here for anything else. 

“Are you gonna write me up?” You ask instinctually. You’ve never been formally disciplined, so the question is gnawing at you. 

“Buck wants me to.”

You snort. “Buck wants a lot of things; most children do.”

“You’re a year younger than him,” Bobby points out. 

It’s true—Buck is 26, and you’re 25. But in this context especially, age is just a number. You’re a 25-year-old advanced practice paramedic with 3 years of experience who acts their age. Buck is a 26-year-old firefighter in his probationary period who acts like a frat boy.

“Are you going to write me up?” You repeat. 

Bobby gives you a look, then sighs with a crooked smile. “No. But if you do anything like that again, you’ll be hearing from me and Sergeant Grant.” 

“Fair enough,” you cede. 

There are a few silent beats in the conversation. This is why Bobby made you sit—he has more to say. 

“Why does he bother you so much?” Bobby asks.

“Literally everything I told him: he’s wreckless and he’s gonna get someone killed if he doesn’t change.” 

“So why not teach him to do better, to be better?”

“Trust me, Cap, I’ve tried,” you chuckle. “I mean, even earlier today, I taught him how to clear an obstruction in a neonatal airway. And honestly? For a few minutes, when he was running down the stairs with that baby in his arms, I thought, ‘Hey, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.’ And then he yells at Sergeant Grant, and he proves me wrong. Again.” 

“I’m talking to him and Sergeant Grant about how everything went down,” Bobby says. 

“I’m not telling you that to get him in trouble, I just…” You take a deep breath through your nose and let it out as a sigh. “It felt like no one was holding him accountable. And I’ve tried playing nice, and I’ve tried teaching him, and he still had the nerve to pretend that he can play god. And I just… lost it, and thought that maybe if I treat him like a man would, he would finally listen to me.”

Bobby nods, taking in everything you’ve said.  

“You think I don’t hold him accountable?” He eventually asks. 

You let out another sigh. “If Buck worked under any other LAFD Captain, they would have canned his ass about three months ago.”

“But is that the right thing to do?” Bobby counters. “This job is tough, and it isn’t something that can be taught overnight. Buck has potential—he could be an invaluable asset some day.”

“Is firing him the right call? Honestly, Bobby, I have no idea,” you admit. “But if people have to get hurt in order for Buck to be good at his job, then it isn’t worth the price.” 

Bobby ended up firing Buck a few days later. It wasn’t for what happened with Sergeant Grant; it was because, apparently, Bobby caught him having sex with some girl on a roof. He used one of the fire trucks to drive there. The moron didn’t realize they have GPS trackers. You got all of this information in a text from Hen. 

You turn the corner to the locker room, planning to put away your keys and wallet before starting your shift like you always do. You didn’t expect to see Buck sitting on the bench in front of the lockers. 

You plan on opening your locker, throwing your stuff in it, and leaving before Buck can say anything. The second you lift the lever, though, Buck turns his head towards you. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you definitely aren‘t going to break the silence. 

“So you heard, huh?” Buck says. 

You close your locker and spin the lock to scramble it. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” 

“Tough break. Sorry, man,” you say with a shrug. You turn on your heel to leave.

“That’s it?” Buck says with a laugh. “A few days ago, you were slamming me against an ambulance, and now… nothing? Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘I told you so’?”

Buck doesn’t even work at the 118 anymore, and he still has a way of getting under your skin. You close your eyes, hoping you can gain some composure before you say anything.

“I’m sorry for pushing you; that was unprofessional,” you say and make your second attempt at leaving.

“But that’s all you're sorry for,” Buck says, rising to his feet. 

You turn around and eye him from head to toe. His chest isn’t puffed out in that hypermasculine way it normally is. Buck shifts his weight between feet, and when the pressure of your stare becomes too much, he breaks eye contact. 

“It’s like Sergeant Grant said: I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” you eventually reply.

“Then say it: you’re happy to see me go.”

Jesus Christ, he can be such a baby. 

“Okay, fine, you wanna go there?” you retort, taking a step forward. “You wanna know the worst thing about you, Buck?” 

He just looks at you. 

“You. You’re the worst thing about you. Because you could’ve been good. You’ve got decent skills, and you have heart, but you have no discipline. You can’t take orders, and you can’t look at a woman for more than thirty seconds without having sex with her. You’re a 16-year-old boy trapped in a 26-year-old man’s body, and ever since you started, you haven’t done anything to change it. You get in your own way and are too busy flirting or running your mouth to even realize it.”

You take another step towards him to ensure he hears what you’re about to say. “You could’ve been good. And I hope that shit haunts you. Because maybe, it’ll finally make you grow up.”

You start to make your exit again but linger in the doorway. You turn back around; there’s one more thing you want to say.

“I’m not happy to see you go, Evan. In fact, I was really hoping you would prove me wrong.”

And with that, you’re gone. 

You and Hen go out on a ‘shortness of breath’ call that ends up being a STEMI — a heart attack. You get him to the nearest hospital in five minutes, and if they can get him to the cath lab, he has a really good shot at surviving it. The patient’s wife hugs both you and Hen, thanking the two of you for doing such a wonderful job. You savor the feeling; most calls don’t end this way. 

When you pull into the station, there’s an engine missing. At first, you think it’s no big deal: the boys are probably out on a fire call. Then you see Bobby standing where the engine’s supposed to be.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Hen asks as she closes the door to the rig. 

“There’s an engine missing.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you chuckle. 

“There were reports of a residential break-in on Lambert Street in Winnetka,” Bobby continues. 

“Damn,” Hen whistles. 

You both heard something about that over the scanner on your drive back to the station; there was a suspected hostage, a young girl. Last you heard, the subject was trying to flee by motorcycle. 

“All of the 118 firemen are accounted for,” Bobby concludes.

You and Hen share a look. Who has a track record of borrowing engines without permission?

The truck pulls up and slowly backs into the garage. You catch a glimpse of the driver in one of the rearview mirrors. 

“Pretty Boy,” you say simply. 

Buck steps out of the truck, still wearing the jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt you last saw him in. “I know what this looks like.”

“Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes,” Bobby says as he approaches the younger man. 

“I didn't really have time to change,” Buck counters. He doesn’t say it in his normal cocky tone, though. Frankly, he looks nervous. 

“Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are.” Bobby continues. “Told her she was half right.”

Buck frowns. “Are you giving me another chance?” 

“You’ve used all your chances; so have I,” Bobby says, “because somehow I have failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do.”

Bobby starts to walk away, but Buck isn’t letting him get away that easy. 

“You're wrong, Bobby. I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here,” Buck says, “and you know what? You were right to fire me.”

That makes Bobby stop dead in his tracks.

“I was a punk,” Buck continues, “still am one. But I'm a punk who understands what he lost. Just… needed you to know that.”

“I hope you mean that. Now go get dressed.” 

Buck stands cluelessly for a second, then turns to you and Hen. “I think I’m not fired.” 

“Your shift’s not over yet,” Hen points out. 

You go to follow her, but Buck stops you by calling your name. 

“I just wanted to tell you, uh…” Buck says, wringing his hands together. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

Normally, words like that coming out of his mouth would set your skin on fire. Between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, though, something in your gut tells you to hear him out. 

“Yeah?” You ask simply, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Some day, I’ll be good,” he says, “but until then, I’ll be better.”

Buck extends a hand for you to shake. It’s the most chivalrous thing you’ve seen him do since you met him. You look at his hand, then at his eyes. There isn’t a trace of humor in his gaze. You take his hand and shake it. 

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Your first call of the shift is to an amusement park where one of the rides malfunctioned. A rider was thrown from the ride as it was moving, and it sounds like he’ll be DOA. When the operator deployed the emergency breaks, though, it meant the rest of the train stopped at the top of a loop, which one rider is now dangling out of. 

Buck is the first to volunteer to climb the ladder and harness the passenger. You’re not surprised. He’s grown a lot in the last few weeks, but he still jumps at every exciting opportunity, no matter how dangerous it may be. Maybe that’s just how Buck is. 

“Hey, he’s asking about his friend,” Buck radios once he’s at the top. 

“Chimney, how’s the kid on the ground?” Bobby radios. 

You look up and shake your head. 

“We lost him,” Chim radios back. 

“All right, I don't need the people up there seeing that. So, do me a favor... He survived, right? Get him on a gurney. You know the drill,” Bobby instructs.

“Copy that,” Chim replies. 

Once you and Chimney get him on the gurney and out of everyone’s sight, you look up at Buck. 

“Come on,” Chimney mutters encouragingly. “Come on, Buck.” 

After a painfully long minute, you see the man’s grasp on the rollercoaster falter. Then, you watch him let go. You close your eyes before you see him hit the ground, but the sound will echo off of your eardrums for a while. 

You go the rest of the night without seeing Buck; you don’t share another call, and when you’re not out in the field, you’re asleep in the bunks. It’ll probably kill you in the long run, but these days, you learn to sleep whenever and wherever you can. 

When you wake up for morning report and breakfast, Buck is already sitting at the table. You wipe the sleep out of your eyes and get a cup of coffee before sitting across from him. 

Bobby was nice enough to make breakfast; he knows how hard these calls are. No matter how many you get, it’ll never get easier. 

Bobby sets a plate in front of Buck. 

“I’m not hungry,” he says almost instantaneously. 

“This is America, Buckaroo,” Chim replies as he sets some silverware on the table. “Eating has nothing to do with being hungry.

“Man, I was right there. You know, all he had to do was reach up and grab my hand,” Buck says instead.

“People do funny things at times like that,” you offer, sipping your drink. “ Sometimes they just freeze up.”

“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Buck says quietly. He looks up at you. “Does it get any easier?” 

Bobby answers for you. “No.” 

“Look, people die, and that’s part of the gig, right?” Chim says as he sits next to you. “See, your problem is, you're looking at every job like it's a long-term relationship. They're one-night stands, man. In that moment, they mean everything to you, but once the morning comes... it's on to the next one.”

“How silly of me to think you’d say something productive,” you roll your eyes.

Chim furrows his brows. “What?”

“You’re such a man,” you say to Chim, then turn to Buck. “Look, dude, we all go through it, and you just have to figure out a way to deal with it,.” You pause. “You know why we wear these uniforms?”

“Sex appeal?” Chim answers, which earns him a quick kick to the shin from you. 

“So people can easily identify us,” Buck responds. 

“That’s true, but… I don’t know, I like to think it’s because when we take it off, we can leave it all behind us. Right now, you’re firefighter Buckley, but when your shift is over, you’re Buck. It just… symbolizes letting go, I guess.”

“I see his face every time I close my eyes,” Buck says. “Does that happen to you?” 

“It’ll pass,” you promise. 

“And if it doesn’t?”

You stare at Buck for a moment. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who mouthed off to a police Sergeant mere weeks ago. 

“Then you talk someone,” you eventually say. “A friend, a therapist, a bartender… you find a way to let it out, and then you let it go.”

 

Once again, you don’t see Buck for hours. You heard on the scanner that the 118 responded to several rescue calls, none requiring an RA unit. You spent the rest of your shift bouncing from call to call and ER to ER, seeing everything from stab wounds to childbirth. It’s shifts like this that remind you why you do what you do. It’s chaotic, stressful, and bloody, but it is fun. After a certain point, you don’t even have to use your brain; the adrenaline in your veins kicks your brain into autopilot, and your pounding heart is just along for the ride. 

You step into the communal locker room, completely exhausted. You still have to change, and considering everything you’ve witnessed, you should probably shower too. Most of all, you want to go home and crawl into your bed. 

Buck is sitting on the bench in the locker room, similar to how he was a few weeks ago after he was ‘fired.’ Just like you, he’s still wearing his uniform. His head is bowed between his shoulders as his elbows rest on his knees. This time, his head doesn’t perk up when you open your locker. 

“I heard you used The Manuever today,” you spark the conversation. “Nice save.”

Buck finally looks up and then chuckles quietly. “Yeah, if only I could’ve done that a few days ago.” 

You take a seat next to him. “Still thinking about Devon, huh?” 

“I’m trying not to, I just…” Buck says, then cuts himself off as he shakes his head. 

“It’s easier said than done,” you conclude. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

Both of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. You open your mouth a few times only to close it. You don’t want to tell this story; you hate even thinking about it. But if you’re going to sit here and tell Buck that he has to let things go, you have to do the same. It’s only fair. 

“The first person I lost… her name was Katherine Vanec. She was 17 years old, wearing a University of Washington shirt, white shorts, and black Converse High Tops. We got a call from her mother, who was at work when she started getting strange texts from Katherine. It was supposed to be a welfare check, and when the cops got there, they found her locked in her bedroom. When fire and rescue broke down the door, she had a .22 caliber revolver pressed to her temple.”

“Jesus,” Buck mutters. 

“Katherine had a history of Borderline Personality Disorder and suicidal ideation. She figured out that her high school sweetheart had been cheating on her for almost a year. They made plans together, I guess — they were gonna go to the same school, find a place off-campus to live together. He pulled the rug right out from under her, and she couldn’t take it.”

“So what happened?”

You smile sadly. “By the time we arrived, a negotiator had been talking to her for almost ten minutes. They thought she was in a good spot that all she had to do was put the gun down, and we would swoop in and 5150 her.”

“Involuntary admission,” Buck says. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. “That didn’t happen. When the negotiator asked her to set the gun down, she lost it. She kept talking about how every time before, she chickened out, and she couldn’t let that happen again. She turned the gun on us.”

“Suicide by cop.”

You nod as a few tears well in your eyes. Even all these years later, that case haunts you. “Her finger wasn’t near the trigger; she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She just didn’t want to be alive anymore, and she couldn’t think of another way out. I can still hear the sound of the bullets tearing through her.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Buck asks softly. 

You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat. “Let it out and let it go,” you answer, then nudge his shoulder with yours. “Your turn.” 

Buck smiles; the expression is bittersweet. “I keep replaying what happened. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else I could’ve done. Maybe I could have grabbed his arm, or maybe there’s something I could’ve said differently.”

“Or maybe, no matter what you did, it was always going to end that way,” you suggest quietly. “Maybe he felt the same way Katherine did—like he had no other way out. We can try to rescue people, but we can’t make them want to be alive. Some people just don’t want to be saved, Buck.” 

“That really sucks.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it does. I guess that’s why we have each other; it makes it suck a little less.” 

“‘Each other’ as in you and me?” Buck asks in a lighthearted tone. 

You roll your eyes, but secretly, you’re thankful for the change of pace. “‘Each other’ as in the 118, which technically includes you and me.” 

“Sounds like a copout.” 

You laugh and clap a hand on Buck’s shoulder before standing. “Have a good night, Buck.”

You make it to the doorway before he says your name. You look back at him. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You bite your lip, but it isn’t enough to conceal your smile. “Anytime.” 

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Twenty-Seven

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, panic attack, stalking, online bullying, serious mental health issues.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

❗❗ author’s note: This chapter includes serious mental health situations in the past of a character, involving in this case voluntary treatment in a mental facility. Treatment for Depression, Anxiety, and Grief Counselling. Please beware of these potential triggers. I am in no way a medical professional writing this.❗❗

an2: finished editing last night, so you are getting this baby EARLY, going to try and be back to my usual schedule! Now.. concerning this part.. *hides*

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

Talia took in a surprised breath when Chris said he’d been committed. She would never in her life say that she thought he was the type, because who in their mind was the type, was she the type? No. No one was a person she could look at and think, oh, that would be someone she for sure thought should end up in an institution at some point in their life. She would absolutely hate herself if she did. Even the people who talked to themselves didn’t deserve to be thought of that way, they were people who were in desperate need of help, not people who needed to be judged like that, it was cruel. Still, at that moment, knowing what she did already, she was lost.

She glanced from Chris to Ricky, unsure of what to think, and saw the concerned expression passed between them, Rick reached for Chris’ hand, and she swallowed slightly, her soulmate tattoo tingling, but it wasn’t upsetting, it was… she wasn’t sure how she’d describe the feeling. When did she start categorising them? Pleased.. Whatever was driving these feelings, it was pleased.. Seeing him comfort his friend, seeing this side of him, was that it, was it pleased, this, the bond between them. She watched, staying quiet as they spoke softly, whispering, not wanting to interfere, but hearing whispered words, knowing they weren’t for her though.

“Are you sure..”

“She’s bound to find out-”

“But-”

“Rick, I know you’re worried, I get it, but I trust her.”

As Chris’ whispered explanation of why he should tell her to Ricky continued, Talia chose to purposely pushed them from her mind. She didn’t want to be unworthy of that trust, unworthy of her friendship with Chris, because with how close they had gotten, he meant the world to her. He had become more important to her than he could possibly know, and it, and the thought that he was willing to trust her with something so personal like this.. Looking down at her hands, trying not to think about the fact that she’d just trusted them with something that she’d not spoken of out-loud about since she’d left the facility, to anyone. Not even Ava.

She should tell her the truth, she should tell all her friends and hope that they won't hate her for hiding it from them for so long. Taking in a deep breath, holding it for a moment to ground herself, before letting it out slowly, just grounding herself for a moment while the boys sorted themselves out. Chris’ voice, clear and no longer whispering, brought her back.

“You okay, JellyBean?”

Chris looked across the table, whispering with Risky, semi-arguing with him about the validity of telling her the whole story about everything that had happened. Rick didn’t understand why he had to tell her, when part of the reason his life was as peaceful as it was from stalkers and shit these days, was that no one outside the immediate band and crew that we trusted implicitly, knew. The thing was, he wasn’t sure he could explain it to Ricky, but even though he’d only known her for a short time, he did trust her, especially after hearing what they’d just heard.

This was a woman who has had her soul bond ripped open by not only her own flesh and blood family, whom she could no longer trust, but strangers that her family put their trust in more than her, and she still came out fighting to keep going. He’d seen her over this past week, sitting in that café, laughing, and smiling, and was the most wonderfully sweet person, even after what she’d been through. Yes, he trusted her, because, above all she was right here, sitting with her soulmate, she didn’t give in, she didn’t give up. Well, some might say she did, but she didn’t do that because of the doctors, she did that because of a fucked up stalker that tipped the scales just a little bit too far, and frankly, Chris got it now. The day Talia had seen Ricky with Grace, had seen them together, and seen what she thought him to be, happy, he more than understood why she took that giant step back and didn’t fight against it. When someone you were destined to love was happy, all you wanted, was that happiness for them.

When Talia’s eyes opened and met his and a soft smile curving across that beautiful face, Chris returned it,

“There she is, are you okay? We don’t have to talk about this if it’s going to be too much?”

And yet it was Chris’ hand that Ricky was squeezing slightly, his fingers tight, he knew how he got about the whole thing, if he only knew lately.. If he only knew.

“I’m okay, Chris, are you?”

He nodded slightly in response to her worry, just keeping his gentle smile.

“Yes, but I should really start from the beginning, it’s a bit of a story, some of which you probably know, but not everything. Are you okay with that?”

Hearing everything, Chris didn’t want to put this all on her, it had been an intense day, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to take the weight of his story on top of it at the same time. However, before he had much time to worry about whether she was going to have a hard time with the situation, she was shifting her chair along the table so she could reach for his other hand, a comfort from both of them, his fingers curving around her delicate ones.

“As long as you’re comfortable, Chris, I’m not going anywhere.”

His smile growing at the thought, squeezing both of their hands gently,

“Well, you probably know I was in a long-term relationship, we were engaged, wedding planning, had a date set.. Venue booked.. Her dress was picked out and being altered, it was..”

He sighed remembering, looking down at the table, just finding a spot on the wood, barely paying attention to the fact that neither of them had let go of his hands, but at the same time, his fingers were clinging to theirs a bit tightly. Chris needed the touch not to get lost in the memories, for in more ways than one, which he knew she’d understand. 

“It’s common knowledge in the fan base that she wasn’t my soulmate, but neither of us cared, we loved each other, and wanted to be together.. At least that's what I thought, how we felt at the time.”

Chris shook his head slightly, this wasn’t even the hardest part to talk about, but it all lead to why he’d been committed, because if he just said the little bit at the end, it didn’t tell close to the full picture.

“A few weeks before we were meant to be married, a woman claiming to be my soulmate turned up, her tattoo was perfect, a fake, but perfect, so she thought. I knew she wasn’t my soulmate, I proved it easily, I’d laid out false trails for my soulmate tattoo years ago. Where it was, what it was, how big it was, she was not my soulmate.”

He felt Ricky’s hand squeeze his firmly, he knew, Ricky had been through all of this with him, he’d had to deal with the whole debacle as well, and now again with Grace on a whole different level. Chris felt for Rick, because hiding his tattoo was so much worse for him than Chris, at least his could go under his shirt most days, there was a reason that there wasn’t very many shirtless photographs out there of him in the world. Those that there are, he’d covered in paint and makeup usually, so it worked for him.

“My fiancé, however, didn’t take it well, she tried to continue like it didn’t matter, but during the lead up to the wedding my fiancé became, distant. Worried about what she was thinking I tried to reassure her, I tried to help everything go as smoothly as humanly possible, but, nothing helped, nothing worked.. I loved her, and she.. A few days before the wedding she broke it off. She couldn’t handle the possibility my soulmate could turn up, and so publicly try to claim me.”

“The way she fucking said that, as if you were something for your soulmate to own.. Cunt.”

“Ricky!” Chris looked over at him, scolding him, despite the fact this was no the first time he’d heard him speak of her in such a hostile way.

“What? She was! I’m sorry Chris, but what she did was fucking shit, I get it, she was having second thoughts, but she blamed you, and how you were famous, how and your soulmate could turn up at any time. Well funnily enough, her soulmate could have turned up at any fucking time too, but she didn’t think about that, now, did she?”

Chris took in a breath, yea, that was something he’d thought about as well, and Ricky was spot on, but he didn’t want to argue about it, not in front of- oh- he looked over towards Talia as he felt her squeeze his hand again.. Seeing her nod with a small smile, she got it.

“It’s okay, Chris, he’s right.. You both had other soulmates, her putting it on yours turning up, wasn’t fair. Especially if she loved you.”

“Exactly.”

His breath was shaky as Rick agreed with Talia,

“the Story isn’t over, and Ricky knows it, so…”

A half-hearted glare at Ricky which pointedly said a silent shut up, which earned a bit of a giggle from Talia, Chris smiled as he continued. 

“After the wedding was cancelled, I hit a patch of depression, which wasn’t helped when the stalker saw an opening, and started attacking my life since her main obstacle was suddenly gone. She came at me in so many different ways, you don’t want to know, it will keep you up at night, it was, frankly, terrifying thinking about all the different things that did and could have happened, I ended up in the hospital A&E more than once because of her, and it wasn’t pretty.”

Taking in a deep breath, he didn’t want to go into detail, because it was hard enough to talk about as he was, and Ricky being here with him, and knowing he wasn’t going to be home on his own after all of this, was a fucking comfort if he was being honest.

“Eventually they caught her, we were able to keep most of it out of the press, because the stress, the pain,  had me cracking.. But, but um.. About a little over two months after I was supposed to get married.. My soulmate tattoo..”

Chris’ voice cracked, and he felt both hands almost simultaneously grip his so tightly, even if only one of them knew for certain wasn’t coming, the other could fucking guess, there was one thing everyone in the world knew happened to the tattoos without a doubt.

“It turned white.”

The moment it did, he knew his soulmate had died.

“I never even got to meet them. Never knew who they were.. And ah,” Chris heaved a deep sigh, pausing before he continued. “Because of government regulations, everyone that loses a soulmate, whether met or not, bonded or not, I had to go through the mandatory grief counselling within six months. So, I knew that with everything that was happening, there was no way that I was going to be able to handle, ah, I couldn’t handle doing the basic therapy, so, I willingly admitted myself to a private confidential inpatient care, with a NDA twist. Of course, most facilities have those included when it comes to medical patients, but I went into one specifically for those trying to stay out of the press. Not just for grief counselling, either, but also for depression and generalised anxiety.”

Chris glanced at Rick, before looking towards Talia,

“Sort of felt like therapy for the soul for me sometimes.. And Talia, I hate that what you went through was so horrible.. Because it should have never been like that.. JellyBean.. They’re supposed to help you, listen to you.. Not assume, and from the sounds of it, that's all that they did to you.”

They hadn’t helped her, they’d listened to her parents and given in to the money that talked. Taking in a deep breath as he squeezed her hand back slightly, hating that she went through something so horrific when his time in the facility had been so therapeutic in the long run. Now, now, back to the whole point of why he was telling the story in the first place, back to the point of why everything was happening. Their soulmate marks.

“Ever since I finished my treatment, I’ve been kind of fascinated by all the theories and different studies involved with the soulmate phenomenon. It is a phenomenon, because no one can fully prove or explain how or why it even exists. Not one scientist in the world, that I have found in any publication, can scientifically prove a damn thing. For all the studies, and papers, it is all theoretical.. Even what's happening to you was nothing but a proposed theory that I’d read about, until now.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics (roses) and @cafekitsune (trigger)

[im-getting-help]

okay, but what if:

"and then he said 'doesn't this proves how much of a good friend i am?' it was fucking insane!"

"I don't want to tell you I told you so, but..."

"Farleigh shut-"

"I don't think I will Felix. I told you since the beginning that little goblin was dangerous and you didn't listen, so, I don't think I'll shut up ever again."

Felix sighed, his fingers combed through his hair for the hundredth time since he began the story, his signet ring reflected the sunlight every time he fixed his bangs. "He's not... dangerous. He's... he's insane but he's not dangerous."

"Yeah right. You can't be serious." Farleigh shaked his head and chuckled, but Felix wasn't laughing.

"Felix, you can't be serious."

Felix remained silent, he refused to meet his eyes.

"Are you thinking of forgiven him?"

Felix shrugd, a small movement, almost as he didn't want to acknowledge what was being said.

He knew that it wasn't the smartest move on his part, there was no valid justification, no a single thing could explain why he did what he did, but Felix wanted so badly to forgive, to forget. The memories of that night kept repeating, his brain replaying them like a movie and he was unable to look away, no matter how much it scared him. He felt stuck, fixed in a moment. Something about the way Oliver pleaded, the way he cried, the way he hold onto him, he couldn't take the image of Oliver's eyes filled with tears, real sincere tears.

That wasn't an act, he was sure of it, it was nothing that he ever seen Oliver did before, he was desperate. That right there was truly Oliver Quick, and he didn't want to let go, he couldn't.

"I think he needs help? I don't think he's a bad person, and he isn't dangerous. He said that I was his only friend..."

Felix's hands seem to had a mind of his own, playing with loose threads and picking skin.

Farleigh got up from the couch, patting his pockets to feel for the pack of cigarettes, his hands trembled slightly, although he was sure Felix wouldn't notice.

"You can't smoke in here Farls, mommy is going to end you if she finds out."

"I know, i know. I'm going outside." He retrieved the lighter from his right pocket and the cigarettes from his left while he stride to the entrance of the long gallery. He always hated that rule, "it could ruin the old folios and paintings" said uncle James, even though they could smoke in every other room, as if they didn't have relics or expensive paintings in there too. Right now though, he couldn't be more thankful to find an excuse to leave this conversation.

"Farleigh..."

"I need a smoke, Fee. Let's take a break, you can keep telling me about Ollie-dear later, yeah?"

Felix was already behind him. With the rush Farleigh didn't even hear him get up. He felt one of Felix's heavy hands on his shoulder and even though his outfit was making him sweat he shivered. Felix's movements were slow and gentle, he coudn't be furthest form an aggressive person yet Farleigh felt his feet stuck to the floor. He looked at his hands. still shaking.

"Farleigh, I need you to promise me that you're not going to tell anyone about this, about Oliver."

"'Course. I don't think auntie would be to pleased to hear about it anyways."

Felix grip tighten a little as he turned Farleigh around. Being face to face with Felix this way made Farleigh remember his mother. She teach him about boundaries and limits. They used to spent the afternoon sharing a cup of tea, the only british custom she maintained. "If you don't feel comfortable with someone you can put distance, you should, you have to. If you feel uncomfortable or uncertain about a situation or a person you can and should stay away".

"I mean it Farls. I need to know that you won't tell anyone about Oliver. Not mom or Venetia or I don't know India or Jackson, no one. Not one person Farleigh."

"I promise Felix. I don't want anything to do with it anyways. If I can stay away from Oliver Quick believe me, I will."

"You make it sound like he's a serial killer Farls." Felix scoffed.

"Yeah, well, you know me... I like to dramatize."

Felix had his eyes fixed on Farleigh, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Can I go now?"

"You won't tell anyone?"

Farleigh sighed heavily. He was scared for his cousin, he was scared for his family. Oliver wasn't only dangerous, he seemed to be completely demented, passed the point of reason. He was scared that Felix ended up really hurt because of him.

He was no stranger to Oliver's dark side. He seen it that first day of tutorial, something in between his words, something in the way he smiled, the way he looked at him.

He was also very, very tired. He'd been tired of cleaning Felix's messes for a long time. Since Venetia chose to take a leap year that became two years and then four years he suddenly became Felix new adiviser and bodyguard. He was tired of dealing with every Felix fuck up. Dealing with Felix's ex-friends and ex-girlfriends and ex-whatevers, dealing people who got hurt by Felix's carelessness, by his indifference. He used to scold Felix, telling him to be more careful with his relationships. How funny it is that he found the worst person in all England to take interest in? Farleigh wanted scream, he wanted to slap some reason into him but he knew that no matter what he did or what he said Felix had already made up his mind. He was a big boy now anyways, he could take care of himself.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Felix. I don't think I know an Oliver Quick. Now, can you please let go?"

Felix hand fell to his side, his lips curled up in an attempt at smiling. Farleigh could see the purple colors under his eyes, he hadn't been sleeping well since the party.

"Thank you Farls, I knew you would understand"

Farleigh bit his cheek and nodded before quickly exiting the room, he strode towards the stairs that led to the rooftop.

Mid walk he realized he had to walk pass Oliver's room on the way to the stairs. He was surprised to find an open door when it finally reached the area, he had no intention to cross it of course, but he stood there, observing.

The interior showed a man profoundly asleep, snoring softly, black hair a mess. Farleigh lit his cigarette and observed Oliver, the open curtains let the midday sun in, the room was warm. Oliver looked so innocent wrapped under the covers like this, like a little boy. The antiseptic smell that lingered in the room and was the only thing that reminded him of the reality of who was the person behind the sleeping beauty facade.

Farleigh snickered and walked away, Oliver Quick wasn't his problem anymore.

[boobabietch]

Like I Would | Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Warnings: I could say mdni but they are going to do it anyways so just be mindful that this is +18 and I’m not responsible of the things you watch on this godforsaken site. SMUT, Sub!abby, thigh riding, oral sex (Abby receiving), afab!reader, teasing and I think that’s it but tell me if I missed something

A/N: oh my fucking god this took ages to writeeee, but anyways, hi there!! This is the first time I write for Abby so please excuse me if this is bad (hopefully not because I really liked the result) and also I haven’t wrote smut in ages so excuse that too. I’m not an English native speaker so any mistakes I’m not aware of please tell me so I can change them asap. If you like this you would help me a lot with a like, comment or reblog. Love Sof :)

Word count: 2.1k

"So... are you telling me that he went in dry?" You said this in clear distress to your best friend, Abby.

 "Yes?" she said with a little hesitation in her voice.

 "And you're still seeing that guy? No wait, let me rephrase that, you're still letting that guy fuck you?" You were astonished by the information Abby just shared. She was so damn perfect, yet somehow she was never properly satisfied in her many experiences with sex.

 

Why am I not the one in your bed every night?

 

"I mean, he had a nice time, and that was definitely hot." Oh, fuck no, she did not just say that.

 "Shut up, Abby; that's fucked up, dude."

 "I mean, what can I say? I take pleasure in seeing people get pleased by me."

 "I mean, that's valid! Of course, but that is very different from just letting a guy use you as a sex doll without even making you cum! That's just bad sex, Bibi." You know it; you know that if you just had a chance, you could show her how fucking good she can feel.

 "Ok, stop bothering me. Owen is like that. He's rough. It's fine. I can take it." Of course Owen is like that; he’s an idiot.

 "Abbyyyy, that's not the issue, and you know it."  

Come on, a chance, just one single chance, Abigail, please.

 

Let me fuck his name away, please

 

You begged, you literally begged in your mind, to be the one to show Abby that release she was desperately looking for.

 "Well, miss know-it-all, if you're going to roast the shit out of me, at least tell me what I'm doing wrong."

 "Abby, you're choosing the wrong guys. They can't please you."

 

They are not me.

 

"They can't?" The cockiness in her voice could be heard a mile away.

 

Shit, what game are we playing?

 "Of course they can’t, I'm telling you! They just don't know what to do with you. They don't know how to properly treat you, Bibi."

They don’t know, but I do and you know it

 "Oh, lord, then who knows? Who knows how to treat me? You?" That fucking giggle she let out after voicing the question...

You were taken aback by it. You had the thought before, every damn night, of Abby all over you, kissing her hungrily like you were starved, your lips biting and sucking every inch of her body, marking her as yours, screaming your name like it was a fucking prayer, like she wanted God to be a witness of the sin happening between you two. Of course you had the thought before...

 

Fuck it, I’m fucking you.

 

"Yes."

 "Yes?"

 "I said yes; I'm pretty sure I can do it."

 "Then do it; make me fucking cum."

There was something in Abby’s eyes that told you how much she wanted you, how much she craved you, and how much she needed you.

With little to no hesitation, you aggressively pulled her lips into yours, the couch creaking with the sudden movement of your body towering over her. Straddling her hips, her hand traveled to your neck while yours got entangled in her hair, pushing her face impossibly closer to yours.

Her scent makes you dizzy even to remember; your whole senses were full of her; you were breathing her, touching her, and hearing her; she was being engraved in your mind like stone; her body warmth was surrounding your body, making you feel hot and heavy.

Your lips left the comfort of hers to travel to her neck. "Please, just, fuck, just..." she mumbled.

Abby’s head was empty; your body was caging her between the couch, and the way your lips were kissing her soft, velvet skin made her sigh dreamily and made your core ache in agony.

But this wasn’t about you; it was about her.

You started spreading little bites that made her whimper, just so you could smooth out the ache on her red and burning skin afterwards with your tongue, licking on the spots where a mark would be noticeable tomorrow.

 You guided Abby to your bed, stumbling into the furniture of your little apartment, and then kicking open the door of your bedroom. Abby sat on your bed, her lips only leaving yours just to tear her shirt and pants away, leaving her only in her fucking black boxers.

 The thing is, you’ve been fantasizing about that slutty piece of clothing since the first time you saw her waistband peeking over her jeans, just there, resting and calling you to tear them apart and make her yours there and then.

 She lays on your pillows, watching you discard your shirt on the floor. Your nipples perked up because of the sudden cold air that hit them.

 "You are so fucking beautiful," she said with her hands traveling to your hips, guiding you to rest on top of her again, now being her the one pressing kisses all over your chest and toying with the hem of your pajama shorts.

 "I know pretty one, but let’s focus on you, shall we?" And with a sudden move, you made Abby straddle you while you rested with your back on the headboard.

 You kissed her, and a long whine came out of Abby’s lips. Ready to give her some relief, you grabbed her hips, guiding her to grind her clothed cunt on your bare thigh.

 "Holy fuck!" It was sparkling; it literally felt like the sparks that come out of a lighter before the flame comes out to burn everything on its path.

 "You like that, huh? You desperate little thing, you love this." Abby never felt more turned on by someone; it was like heaven—like a perverted, hot, and burning heaven—shit that sounded more like hell, but if hell felt this good, she would be the biggest sinner of all just so she could feel you again.

 Her movements started to become erratic; she moved faster and harsher; her mouth started to let out little moans and profanities; and your skin was now soaked and dripping just from Abby’s fluids.

 "You want to cum pretty one? You deserve this one bibi come on," and with that, a long moan came out of her mouth, your hands guiding her to ride her high.

 "Shit, shit, shit, you are so fucking hot," she said, leaning for more kisses, but you dodged her face.

 "No uh, lay for me, Abs. Be a good girl." She watched you with doe eyes as she complied, slowly laying in your mattress below you once again. You swear that you have never seen her like this, so compliant and at your mercy. You swore that if you struck a knife on her stomach right now mercilessly, she would accept it and thank you for it. She was in awe of you.

 Her mind cleared again when the cold air hit her soaking cunt, and she became aware that you had just removed her boxers and were now staring at that pretty and glistening pussy she had.

 "Is this okay?" you asked, seeing how she looked at you like a deer in headlights.

 "Yes, just do it, please." The agony in her voice became visible when she stuttered the confirmation. You came closer to her face, leaving some soft and slow kisses all over her face

 "Okay, Abs, what do you want me to do?" You said it with the most innocent and indecent tone of yours.

 "Wha- what?" She stumbled over the words because, holy fuck, you were unreal.

 "Yes, Abby, what do you want me to do?" You said slowly parting her legs with your knee, pressing it in her cunt, and start grinding it slowly just to tease the whiny mess you had underneath.

 "Your mouth, your fingers, I want you; please, I want you in me," she finally said, rushing the words out of her mouth.

 "Your wish is my command, pretty girl." With that, you kissed your way down, sucking a little bit her nipples and leaving hickeys all over her chest. You made it to her cunt, slowly kissing the inside of her legs.

 "Fuck, please y/n, please just do something." God, she was so needy.

 You licked a line from her entrance all the way to her clit. She was squirming, so you grabbed her hips aggressively, pinning her to the bed. A loud moan coming from her mouth was your cue to start devouring her cunt like a starved woman, your hands applying bruising strength to her hips to keep her steady while you ate her out in the most ungodly way you knew.

 Feeling how wet she was, you slipped two fingers into her, knocking the air out of her lungs. You began curling them at her spongy spot, playing with the pace, and then you added your mouth to the equation.

 It was too much, but also not enough, and also perfect. Abby’s hand found its way to your hair, gripping it tightly as the other one covered her mouth to muffle her loud moans.

 "Hey no, I want to hear your beautiful sounds, ok? So loose the hand or I’ll have to tie it to the headboard" you said, not liking a little bit how hard she was trying to not make a sound. It was your fucking apartment; if your neighbors had any complaints, they could shove it up their asses. Hell, even if it was God and Satan themselves, they could religiously go suck a dick if they were bothered.

 Your unholy pace kept going alongside your delirious way to eat cunt, and hearing Abby moan your name like she was trying to carve it in the walls was a fucking dream come true

 And then she felt it—the knot forming in her stomach, begging to be untied. The sweat made loose strands of her hair stick to her forehead, the reflex of her hips buckling upwards towards the stimuli, begging for more. The primal instinct to let out the most beautiful whines and moans you'd ever heard, and the urge to bury your face deeper into her cunt just so she could let all that pressure in her core out in that sweet and strong release she was hoping for.

 Your eyes traveled upwards, and you saw Abby's face, eyes completely shut down with tears threatening to fall out, all her face contorted with her brows furrowed, and you knew she was there.

 "It's okay, pretty one. You can just let go; it's fine," you said. Abby gasped at the sudden loss of contact while you spoke, but then this sudden feeling of pleasure traveled from her body to her core, making her legs shake and the grip she had in your hair become even harsher. "It's okay, Abby. You can let go," and with this came the orgasm she was begging God to have.

 Her cum dripping all over your chin, you helped her ride her high, slowly decreasing the pace your fingers had at her now-abused hole until you saw her visibly relax all the muscles in her body, flopping onto the mattress.

 With a last kiss on her puffy clit, you made your way up her body, scanning all the marks you left in her hips from the strength you were using to hold her down and the purplish hickeys forming all over her breasts, proving how good you made her feel.

 You kissed away all those tears, showering her face with kisses while whispering sweet nothings and compliments. And then, finally, you kissed her lips with such tenderness, as if she were made of porcelain and you were afraid of breaking her, a complete contrast to your first kiss of the night.

 Abby's hand traveled to cup your cheek, while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. She had just experienced her first orgasm during sex, and the entire time, she felt loved and cared for by you, making her weak in the knees.

 You pulled away, looking expectantly into her eyes. "So, how was it?" you asked, a little grin forming on your lips.

 Abby was so enamored with the view of you on top of her, breathing heavily, blushing cheeks, all sweaty and perfect, that she couldn't speak. She tried your lips just today, and just as quickly as it sounds, she became obsessed with how perfectly your entire existence fit with hers, making her feel complete and incredibly good.

 After cleaning up, you lay facing upwards with Abby nestled beside you, burying her face in your neck. Abby was a big, intimidating, and dominant woman most of the time, but sometimes she just wanted someone to take care of her, just as she took care of everyone else. And you were that someone. Tonight, with her whole body pressed into you and your digits tracing shapes on her bare back, you thought while pressing your lips to her forehead.

 

Hell yeah, I could get used to this.

Tags: @cvqii @akinui

Requests are: open!

Masterlist

[grandmother-goblin]

Okay, I swear I'll be done talking about how I miss EA Wyll for a while after this (not to say I don't love Full Release Wyll! I love him too! I just grew attached to certain aspects of EA Wyll)

One thing that I found really interesting about EA Wyll was his relationship with Mizora. In Early Access, we do not meet Mizora, but it's heavily implied that Wyll and Mizora had an entirely different relationship than the do in the Full Release version of the game. A relationship that I personally thought was really interesting!

Now, I'm drawing from knowledge from MONTHS ago since I don't have EA in front of me, but I did have 500 hours in EA so I like to think I'm not completely misremembering stuff lol (if I am, please kindly let me know!)

Here is what we knew (or was implied) about Wyll's relationship with Mizora in Early Access.

Mizora originally came to Wyll as a human, seemingly seduced him as a human, and it was only after he took her deal did she reveal that she was a devil (which pissed him off).

Mizora was kidnapped and imprisoned on the Mind Flayer ship too! In EA, Wyll wasn't looking for Karlach, he was desperately trying to find Mizora! (In EA, you could find Mizora's pod beneath the bridge leading to the Blighted Village and Wyll would comment on it. The pod is still there in Full Release, but there isn't any interaction with it.)

Wyll was actively in negotiations with Mizora to end his pact! Wyll seemed decently convinced that she was going to wilingly end the pact too!

Mizora actually uses Wyll's Sending Stone eye! This one was easy to miss; you had to have Wyll in the party as you were approaching the Goblin Camp for the first time. As you were walking, you suddenly heard Wyll say something like "Wait... hello??" and then he'd a ! over his head. When you spoke to him (I can't remember the first line exactly, but I believe he just tells you that it was Mizora reaching out) and then the interaction ends with a desperate cry from Wyll saying "Mizora! Where are you?!"

When Wyll calls out to Mizora, it's not angry; it's fearful and desperate. Like he's actually worried about her. I think this points to Wyll and Mizora having a more amicable relationship (but, of course, there are different and equally valid interpretations of this such as Wyll fearing for what might happen to him if something happens to Mizora, etc)

Wyll could potentially torture an innocent man to get information on Mizora's whereabouts. If I remember right, he will do this if you don't step in yourself and let him make the choice.

Lastly, Wyll also says the goblins would be doing him a "great favor" if they killed Mizora, "or so [he] thought on his darkest days" (quotes are approximations, again, I don't have EA in front of me).

I guess I miss the potential complexity of Wyll's relationship with Mizora from EA! In Full Release, it is very clear that Mizora is wicked and Wyll pretty much hates her, but that didn't seem to be the case in EA. There seemed to be a fascinating push and pull to their relationship that I was dying to learn more about!

[waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle]

Over my head (Miguel ‘o’ Hara x Reader)

Chapter 5

Pairing: Miguel x reader

Summary: y/n is a kind hearted nurse who’s life gets turned upside down as she get fired from one the most prestigious hospitals in NYC , desperate , she start filing job applications wherever. Coincidentally a stressed Miguel is looking for a nurse due to a big amount of spider people getting injured due to the surprisingly large amount of anomalies happening in the spider verse. What could go wrong is these two meet?

Themes: ✎slow burn ( I think)

Mutual pining

✎office romance (¿)

Hidden romance

✎Smut available as story progresses.

Dom Miguel x sub/bratty reader

✎Stubborn, Ill tempered Miguel.

✎ Angelic reader .

It girl reader.

✎I try to be as accurate as possible.

English is not my first language so bare with me.

✎badass stoic x sweet empath.

Og spanish speaker so be prepared for steamy dialogue :3

Content :Fluff

See master list for previous or future chapters

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

In a blink of an eye Miguel throws you into the air and with the help of a few faux webs your quickly taped down to the ceiling ,your hair falls straight down blurring your vision as you feel your back ache after suddenly being slammed into the roof.

-“¡Mierda Peter!”- Exclaimed Miguel as he watched Peter Parker walking in drunkenly still with his baby’s kangaroo on.

-“Where’s y/n?”- asked the joyful man with a can of Heineken in his hand.

-“she…”- Miguel lengths his sentence trying to compose a valid excuse but the worry that he didn’t stick you properly to the ceiling resulting in you falling down and possibly hurting yourself was all that could occupy his mind.-“Just left actually.”-He says with a fake smile.

Miguel was too busy trying to not break a sweat from his sudden acting role to notice that even though Peter was drunk his spider senses still worked perfectly and that he could sense your exhilarating heart beat from miles.

-“Well I just wanted to tell you that y/n told me about your injury so I could help out with the spiders , and as a friend I want you to take care of yourself, Mayday and I care deeply about you , we don’t want you to martyrize yourself for the sake of the association. For you information we perfectly run smoothly without your help for a few days. So as long as I find a babysitter for may I’ll replace you on your missions ,how does that sound ?”- Even though Peter was inebriated he pulled together the last night of eloquence he had so he could show his dear friend he cares about him.

The corner of Miguel’s lip raised for a millisecond before returning to his normal serious facade.

-“Thank you Peter but I won’t let you take over my responsibilities over a little injury. Plus with the recent raise of anomalies i don’t want to take extra risks. Do you want me to ask spider noir to take you home , you seem wasted.”- He ends the conversation with a small chuckle.

-“He’s even more wasted than I am! I’m too drunk to discuss this with you right now but just know the conversation is not over.”- Peter hasn’t gone out in a while since having mayday so he enjoys all the fun he could get.

And with some heavy unbalanced steps he quickly left the room leaving you too alone.

-“Miguel, I feel all the blood in my body in the front of my face. Please get my down.”- You groaned as you stayed still.

-“Coming.”- He said as he jumped about 13 feet in the air, With one hand he grabbed you by the waist and with the other he used his claws to rip the webs , he swiftly landed on the ground while you sorta struggled to climb off him to place yourself on the floor.

After letting you down you noticed that Miguel winced and started to rub the area that you just injected.

-“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You should take peters offer , it’ll be for his own good too. He needs those missions to get in shape so he’ll be able to keep up with mayday.”- You giggled as you started to put away the supplies.

-“Too dangerous.”

-“Oh Please Miguel, I know you think you’re the shit but i know they’ll get by perfectly without you.”- You sometime liked to provoke men by hurting their ego this way it’ll leave them flustered or confused, this lets you convince them easier it may seem Machiavellian but it’s for his own good.

Miguel’s brows tightened into a knot while he glared at you.

-“It’s not that, I’m just Really good at my job I guess.”- He murmured trying not to flatter himself too much when in reality he likes to think that the success of the spider society is due to his strict , hard handed leadership.

-“Whatever you say, i hope you’ll be able to climb walls as your ribs start pinching your lungs.”- you struggled to avoid letting out a laugh while watching the terror mirror in his face.

You quickly put away everything in their respective rooms and commanded the bots to sanitize the room before your arrival.

You grabbed your purse and walked back to the main room thinking migue would have left already but to your surprise his big figured continued to loom over the poor stool.

-“Goodnight Miguel.”- You smiled as you grabbed the door handle , before you knew it you felt a calloused warm hand grab your wrist.

-“Let me take you home.”

-“What for?”-You questioned.

-“To thank you for your services ,even though they were forced on to me.”-Miguel insisted as his hand refused to leave your small wrist

-“Be my guest.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Miguel drove a Ford raptor 150, A real vintage model but you could say it went well with his personality. The car smelled of smoker rosewood and was surprisingly spotless.

As you were driven to your home you couldn’t help but notice Miguel’s fixed gaze on the road or the way his rough hands grabbed the staring wheel firmly, you tried to not let your eyes wonder but they automatically traveled up to his arms that were decorated with bulging veins and a beautiful tan, your glare finally ended up on his face, his cheekbones and jawline were as sharp as his attitude , but what really caught your attention was his eyes ; they were cold and opaque like they were dull buttons glued on to his face. You concluded that he was strangely too handsome to be Spider-Man , he should be an old spice model or something.

-“Got something on my face?”- He murmured looking at you through the corner of his vision.

-“Yeah you got a little bit of blood; you better clean that up before they think you’ve killed someone.”- You responded as fast as lightning refusing to let him catch you off guard.

-“You always got a comeback huh?”- He sighed as he looked through your side mirror so he could take a turn.

-“Actually it comes out pretty naturally. It’s a gift you could say.”- You started to enjoy the conversations you two have while alone, this moment is not the exception. He was actually a pretty nice guy when he’s not throwing tables at unsuspecting people.

-“You live in a nice area of the city, I’ve never been here;must be a pretty safe spot.”

Miguel changed the subject while looking at the surroundings of your street , you choose this area because there were a lot of parks , trees and most importantly beautiful flowers to gaze at while taking a run.

-“want to know an unconventional reason why I choose this street.”

-“Enlighten me.”-He said as he swiftly parked in front of your building while turning his body to you so he could pay attention to you fully.

-“My parents immigrated from another country and where I’m from we lived in small town surrounded by a lot of nature, so you can imagine the shock when we moved here with concrete everywhere and all the pollution. So I picked this street cause the smell and ambiance sort of reminds me of home you know?”

-“It’s funny how everyone tries to make their reality one where they were most happy, even if it doesn’t exist anymore.”- He noted with a somber look in his eyes.

As you noticed the tensed up environment you decided to call it a night.

-“Thanks for the ride Miguel.”

-“Wait let me walk you to your door.”- He said grabbing the handle of his door.

-“There’s no need.”- You said with an earnest smile. -“Don’t want the door man to get the wrong idea.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Miguel locked the door to his penthouse and took his shoes of at the entrance , the Interior of his home was inspired by rustic minimalism.

The low glow of the lights made the house seem lonelier that it already was.

The bronzed man made his way to the shower turning on the cold water before taking off his clothes. He looked into the mirror to stare at the injuries staining his body, he was used to looking at open wounds and sometimes cuts that never healed properly due to his negligence, but then he stared at the little dots pertaining from your syringe, it’s the first time someone cared enough to tend to his injuries. He knows it’s your job and that he shouldn’t feel giddy over this, but after today he couldn’t help but feel a little appreciation towards you.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

The next day In the spider society hungover Peter Parker had a very important mission, he wanted to convince Lyla to suspend Miguel’s watch for at least a day so he could heal properly; he already informed the closest spider people so they could all be on their A game on todays mission for the sake of Miguel’s health.

-“Lyla I know it’s too much to ask but please keep it a secret from him!”- Pleaded out Peter almost on his knees.

-“There’s 5 anomalies roaming around the multiverse, how do you expect me to stay quiet”.- Groaned the ai.-“It’s Miguel’s choice if he decided to go out and bust his back, plus if I do decide to follow up on your plan he’ll be forced to stay here in HQ and bitch at me.”

-“Just trust me I have a plan.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

After a rainy morning you arrived at HQ , after some greeting you noticed two spiders who were particularly hung over so you decided to prepare some iv bags and fluffen some pillows in case they wanted to come by and take a nap.

But as soon as you unlocked the door you noticed a sandwich from an artisan deli from the nice part of the city along with a warm latte.

You tilted your head in confusion wondering who could have left it here, on closer inspection you noticed a mint green note the top of the sandwich that read.

(Here’s last nights over time fee.

-M)

[a/n: sorry for the long wait but I enjoyed writing the

chapter and that’s all that matters to me🫶🏻 I’ll update from now on once a week :3]

[fan-a-tink]

Young Royals S3 thoughts

EP5

Even just hearing this scene’s echo was horrific. It must have been so much worse to actually go through it. 

It must be so hard for Wille to reconcile how he knows Erik which what he now knows about him. And he is not here anymore to defend himself. Uuuurgghhhhh!

Please talk to Simon. Please talk to him. Shutting him out will not make anything better.

Sara and Felice doing desserts together, that’s the best idea anyone has ever had :) A chance for them to talk, yay!

This Micke is starting to be a dad too good to be true. This is sketchy behaviour. He is too happy, this is going to spiral out of his control. Oh Sara I am worried for you….

Ok, I am just going to say it (even 2021 me would judge me so hard for this) but August „redemption arc“ is working. Like I honestly believe that he is trying to be a little bit better as a person. I want him to be alright. And yes, I am shocked that I think this. 

Whose locker is number 60? Is that Sara’s? 

Wille once more calling his parents because he needs support. And his dad once more not stepping up. Nobody is perfect, not even Kronprins Erik….!

Edvin Ryding, the actor you are…

This episode it’s Wille’s turn to look as if his soul has left him. 

Oh shit this will be the music room fight. I am not ready. I am not ready. No no no no no noooooooo.

RIP Wille in the choir. Those scenes in episode two were worth it though :)) 

It is so typical for Simon to think that he has done something wrong. Simon, my love, you are not ‚difficult‘ for asking questions!! You are wonderful. 

Wille, those are your thoughts, not Simons. They are your fears, your doubts, your anxieties. And they are completely valid. But please don’t put words in Simon’s mouth and push him away like that. „Maybe he gave in to peer pressure. What do you know?“ Like, Simon is trying to help you here, he’s trying to talk it through with you and help you out. Nooo, don’t walk out on him?!!!

Simon being left behind in the music room is just as devastating as Wille being in there after their fight last season. I am done with this music room. 

The 36 on Simon’s locker is now always going to remind me of that fan exam :)) I was sooo unsure about that question haha

So she takes the letter, but is she reading it? Should we assume she read it? Or is she just not going to read it? I am confused…

Oh no. Micke has forgotten. The hope and desperation in her voice that she’s trying to conceal while leaving these voice messages for her dad is killing me. Also, ruuuuuun! You can still make it :) 

Why is Wille only ever with Felice when he’s had a fight or something with Simon? Like, when they’re good, he never hangs out with her. 

I also do believe he would have accepted and embraced Wille’s queerness. But I guess it’s the fact that we’ll never know that is so hard to deal with.

Purple nail polish ✨ slay :)

Sara made it :) But also, it’s stressing me out that she just puts her id back into her bag and doesn’t close it properly. It could fall out!

That is so heartbreaking seeing that Micke is falling back into the habit of drinking with his friends. And the worst possible moment for Sara to find out, mid-driving test, in the middle of the road. 

Linda giving Simon the long overdue hug and telling him he’s not doing anything wrong. YES!

„Love shouldn’t be this difficult“ - Linda, I trusted you!!! Don’t give Simon ideas.. 

Sara turning up at the house, breaking down. Simon hugging her. Forgiving her. I am in actual tears now. Can’t handle it. I’m sooo glad he is forgiving her. This was soooo necessary. Finally some healing…. 

That’s a decent apology text, Wille, I’m proud of you :)

The nail polish looks sooo good!!

And its off 😂 That was shorter than Wille’s career in the choir..

The Happy Birthday Song Scene will forever be my favourite Wilson scene. I am crying my eyes out because I know it’s all going to go wrong soon, and this might be one of the last moments of happiness. And it is SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!! 

Also I am sooo glad the ‚Is everything ok between us?‘ line happened here and now was immediately answered with a ‚yes‘ - that takes away one of my biggest fears from the trailer… 

Also, he made him a sandwich? Asjdnä oajbef lskdfb .sjdnfsldnf lsdn 💜

I like Farima. Also her green suit is gorgeous :) 

They are holding hands in the car !!!!

„Maybe it was stupid to tell you that thing about Erik. I get that it must’ve been tough to hear.“ Yeah, no shit, August.

Simon is just chilling, living his best life eating cake :) 

„Cause there’s a risk of poisoning.“ Oooff. Simon’s expression is golden :))

I think Simon will never get used to having staff to take care of everything. And to Wille being absolutely ok with that and not even noticing it. 

Spotted Lisa Ambjörn, hihiiiii :))

Please make Simon feel welcome. Please. 

Why are they all pretending like everyone’s happy and fine? 

August is just so happy to be near Sara, it is actually adorable. 

Felice and Sara working side by side. I have so much hope that they can find their friendship again. Like, they are both loving being in each other’s company..! And Felice wanting to be a chef? I am here for it!!!! That whole little scene was beautiful :))

That is the most awkward dinner conversation ever. Poor Simon. Poor Wille. And they really don’t make it easy for anyone just bringing everything back to Erik. Like, that just adds so much pressure on Wille, and also this is such a vulnerable topic for him right now… 

Class Bad Boy. Lol

I love that he hates the title. Like, season 1 August would have loved it! That is GROWTH, ladies and gentlemen!

„It’s not very long. I’ll read it to you“ - dude, she can read, she just didn’t want to! 

His voice breaking up a little while he reads the letter. Malte is really on the next level this season…

The way he leans his head into that hug…! I have so much hope for them…. Please, please, please!

Yes, I can see that from Frederike’s point of view this looks bad. But you don’t know anything about the situation. And you’re just going to cause problems. But of corse she runs straight to Felice. Uuughhh, and things were just starting to look like they could be friends again someday. 

Wille playing a bit of the school song. Is that the only thing he remembers how to play, because he taught it to Simon? 

Wille, you’re being unfair. Yes, it’s hard for you. But Simon is also allowed to find it hard. And he is only trying to support you.

I’m sorry, but Wille’s parents could not be more useless right now. I am so glad Wille is finally speaking his mind. Maybe the delivery is not the most productive, constructive, diplomatic, but a child should not have to beg for his parents to be there for him. And they should not just leave the room when he does. Like, I understand that you are ill and struggling and that it must be absolutely terrible to deal with your eldest son dying tragically in a car crash, but Wille is right, you still have a son, and he needs you!!! 

The way Simon looks horrified and genuinely scared when Wille smashes the gifts. Like, he looks kind of scared of Wille. I bet he witnessed these kind of violent outbursts from his dad when he was younger. Oh Simon….

There it is: „Love shouldn’t be this hard.“ And it hurts just as much as I thought it would. 

Wille’s cheek is so wet, he must have been crying a lot already. 

Simon’s voice cracking when he says „Maybe it just can’t work.“ - he is breaking his own heart admitting this. 

The lyrics just before the cut „I got addicted to a losing game“ - KILL ME NOW!

I am in tears. Like, I knew they were going to come to a point like this, but that doesn’t mean it’s ok!!!