#she's trying very hard both as a person and as a mother

[alyimoss]

YES YES YES IVE NOTICED THIS BEFORE!!!! the reverse is also true: chara calls asgore dad, but toriel is just toriel. both have a parent theyre closest with

that does make me think tho like. frisk seems to me like he would either call both parents just by their name or call both mom and dad. not pick one and leave the other. hes shown to be more considerate of the residents of xtale in later timelines than chara, whos grown much more disillusioned, hateful, and violent. chara has way fewer problems treating people more poorly because in his mind the end justifies the means and as long as the goal hes working toward is noble (which. it at first is but later twists into something completely different. but i think he still considers it noble and the "best outcome for everyone" and thats ahat matters most to him) any horrible thing he does is completely fine. hes playing on the same battlefield as xgaster, after all, so he has to adopt his same tactics. frisk, though also shown to have grown more hateful and violent and disillusioned, shows a lot more hesitation in using and/or hurting the residents of xtale.

anyway, all that to say that he just doesnt rlly strike me as the type of guy to just exclude one parent, especially if it hurts/saddens them. like i could be completely wrong and hes just got a preference contrasting charas bc siblings, but. idk.

bc chara not calling toriel mom immediately makes me think of timeline III. the timeline right after the one where chara got the father figure he yearned for. it was the first timeline to use underswap as a base instead of the original timeline. in the episode, we see both frisk and chara sitting in toriels lap. frisk is chatting happily with her, but chara looks livid

i wonder if chara refuses to call toriel mom because she hasnt been the mother he knew for so, so long. she doesn't even know it. and swap toriel taking asgores role and some if not all of his personality (depending on the interpretation), it probably felt to chara like she was trying to replace asgore. a shoddy stand in, smiling at him almost in mockery as he has to mourn the death of his father alone because noone except for him, frisk, xgaster, and alphys even know he died. for all the other residents of xtale, that series of events never happened.

toriel asks him whats wrong and he has to fight the urge to snap at her, to yell at her that she knows. she knows and shes mocking him. that shell never be him. that she shouldnt have ever dared to do something like this so close to his death. and he only barely holds that all in because he knows shes not doing this on purpose. she doesnt know what happened. she didnt ask to be remade in someone else's image. she doesn't even know she has been

the whole situation fuels his hatred of xgaster more, because now more than ever he feels like hes being toyed with. first it was just the world. just seeing what changed. and then one of the most precious things to him was taken from him by the very man who promised him the world, a marionette facsimile dangling by strings from the claws chara couldve sworn he didnt always have.

and again, its not toriels fault. but it leaves such a strong impression on him that she forever changes in his eyes. shes no longer the loving mother. shes someone who doesnt belong, someone he doesnt recognize as his own. she changed from who she was when she WAS his mom, all the way back in timelines I and II, and the mother he loved is dead. gone. erased. irreplaceable. and no matter what xtoriel does, chara can never bring himself to call her mom again

and, on the contrary, he latches to asgore hard. because hes also changed, hes not exactly as he remembers him, but hes back. hes alive. hes still asgore and hes still his father and he missed him so much. he doesnt care about the smaller details, nothing matters except the fact that his father is back. that the man who gave him hope and support and company when he felt so crushingly lonely under the weight of losing his world is back, and that means chara isnt alone anymore. hes not hopeless. and he holds to that tiny hope as tight as he can

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[shadamyheadcanons]

@shadowsfascination showed me this post from the Writing-prompt-s blog:

“Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.”

It gave me two brief ideas. The first one is a little more angsty and strictly involves Amy, while the second is fluffy and Shadamy-centric. They both have happy endings, though.

Angsty version:

Amy learns very early on about her gift, as it’s rare but not unheard of. She’s precocious about it; when she’s five, she’s prone to doing things like seeing happy couples with unconnected strings and bluntly saying, “You’re bad for each other.” Naturally, Amy’s mother is mortified by this behavior and urges her to stop doing it.

At first, this seems like a normal reaction...until one night at dinner when Amy asks, “Mom, Dad, why aren’t your strings attached? Mom is attached to the mailman instead.”

That’s how the truth comes out that her mom is cheating on her dad, which leads to their divorce. Amy blames herself, and her parents don’t do a very good job of convincing her otherwise. The resentment’s there, and she can tell. From then on, she resolves never to share her gift–her curse–with anyone for fear of ruining something else.

This continues until she hears two good friends of hers talking. One is trying to defend her clearly abusive partner, saying he’s “not always like that,” he’s “usually very sweet,” etc. And Amy just can’t hold it in any longer. She blurts out that they’re not meant to be together. The one she belongs with is the best friend who brought her in, the man who’s holding her as she’s speaking. Everyone’s silent for a moment, and Amy immediately regrets it...until six months later, when the two are dating and thank her for stepping in.

Amy embraces her gift at last and uses it to help others, becoming a matchmaker and relationship therapist. However, she spends just as much time “matchbreaking,” carefully working to break up couples who are bad for each other. She learns that sometimes, the best way to spread love is by ending ties that pull in the wrong direction, like pruning a plant of old leaves to allow new ones to thrive. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no one who’s better at it.

Her mother never makes amends, but her father apologizes profusely for how he treated her when she was younger and introduces her to her new stepmom, thanking her for giving him the opportunity to meet her.

--

Now, the happier option:

Amy can see the strings tying people to their soulmates. Aside from aromantics like Sonic, who have little knots/bows on their fingers to show they’re complete on their own, everyone has a string...except for Amy herself. Hurt but determined, she decides to start a matchmaking business to spread love around the world in her own way, even if she can’t be a part of it.

Then, she meets Shadow, the only other person she’s met without a string. He brushes off her concern, as he doesn’t put stock in the concept and has reluctantly resigned himself to being a “dead end,” but Amy insists on trying to match him up with his soulmate all the same, as she feels everyone who wants a soulmate must have one. She finds it’s not so easy without the cheat sheet she’s had all her life. While getting to know Shadow and considering all the wonderful things he could offer as a partner, she can’t help but fall for him herself. Likewise, Shadow sees all the care and effort she’s put into bringing him happiness and fulfillment, the passion and devotion no one else could ever match. He doesn’t stand a chance, either. Amy takes the plunge and gets together with him even without that divine confirmation.

The truth of the matter, one that Shadow suspects, is that someone with the gift simply can’t see their own string, but Amy doesn’t need that validation to know she belongs with him.

[theleavesofwesteros]

love hearts (Loki x F!Reader)

A/N: I'm back already with another oneshot (yay)! This one is shorter and it's a valentine's day one, something fluffy/smutty in honour of me thirsting over loki again (and him being my only valentine this year). anyways, i hope you all enjoy and are doing well!

PS: happy birthday to tom hiddleston! <3

PPS: thank you again to @cafekitsune for the divider and the permission to use it!

AO3 LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62925667

She often wondered how she'd even gotten into this situation. Dating a god wasn't just something that people did. People, human ones, especially. Moreover, dating a god who'd been forced and tortured into trying to destroy New York City was even more of an unusual case. How could she even bring that up to the people in her life? She didn't, actually. She and Loki acted like he was a mortal (much to his amusement) and he simply charmed everyone with a well-timed grin and any possible contradictions about their supposed story were forgotten. However, one bad thing about their romance was how unpredictable his appearances could be. His own habits had to do with that, of course. He liked keeping people (especially her) on their toes. But he was also a royal prince to some kingdom on another planet that she'd not yet seen. He seemed keen not to take her just yet. "Mother would love you," he often insisted, but he didn't say as much about his adoptive father. She didn't think she'd be quite fond of the man either, from what she'd heard. 

Loki had been gone for two weeks now. On Asgard, or maybe even one of the other Realms at this rate. He tried, but communication was somewhat hard to maintain inter-planetarily. She understood, but she missed him. Her life was rather particularly mundane, and especially during the colder months, he was the most exciting thing about her. He always regaled her with stories of his centuries of life, or simply got her to do things she would've never thought to do on her own. 

It was February now, thankfully. After a particularly long January, she found that the second month of the year was going by in a flash. Today of all days, happened to be Valentine's Day, the day of love and friendship. She'd never made a big deal of it, or had big expectations for it, but she'd still opted to wear something of the pink/red variety to work today. She'd gotten in touch with the important people in her life and they'd thanked one another for being in each other's lives. She'd even received a small package of love hearts at work from one of her colleagues (everyone had gotten one). With no warning from her lover, she felt it was safe to assume that his business (whatever it was), had not yet been concluded and that he would not be joining her tonight. She was alright with it. Even if she wasn't, there wasn't much she could very well do about it. 

That's why she found herself making a casual meal for herself, something not too complicated, and then pouring herself a nice drink. It was a day to celebrate, after all, and it had fallen on a Friday, so she felt she could indulge a little and welcome the weekend. Even if she was alone to celebrate it this time, she still had herself, and that was an important person to thank and cherish, indeed. 

What she did not expect, was to hear the telltale woosh of magic, rather, of seiðr, that usually preceded the arrival of someone with a far longer lifespan than hers. She'd just finished washing and putting away the very few dishes she'd used for both the preparation of dinner and the cooking of it, when she turned to see just who had teleported into her apartment. She hoped her guess wasn't wrong. 

And it wasn't. He stood there, waiting for her to set eyes on him. When she did, in his (always) dramatic fashion, he spread his arms wide and grinned with pride at himself. 

"I... am back," Loki said dramatically, nearly waiting for applause. 

She approached him and wrapped her arms around him right away, smiling into his chest. 

"I can see that. Welcome back," She says, her entire demeanor seemingly softening in his presence. 

It was impressive how they did that to one another. 

"... Is that all? No tears of relief at my unexpected return? Darling..." He frowns, placing a hand to his chest. "I'm offended. I might just go back to Asgard for a redo."

She shoots a heatless glare in his direction. "Don't." 

He groans and moves to flop somewhat gracefully onto her couch, long legs spreading nearly automatically and giving her a great view of his thick thighs. She moves her eyes away before he can catch her and tease her for it. He was still dressed in his Asgardian leathers. The ones she loved so much, the ones that were black, with some gold and dark green accents and all those clasps and flaps and added (unecessary) parts. No helmet, though. She moved to him, sitting next to him, her thigh touching his. It earned her a nearly rakish grin, his eyes already glinting with a particular kind of mischief she'd come to recognize (and cherish). 

"I wasn't expecting you back just yet," She says in the comfortable silence. "Did you forget to send a message?"

"No. Did you miss me, love?" He asks, reaching out to place his arm on the back of the couch. He was teasing.

He could touch her so easily, move his big hand just a sliver and touch the back of her neck. But he wouldn't, and they both knew it. She wanted it too much. 

"Of course I did. I always do." She reassures him. 

He hums, considering her words and being seemingly pleased. 

"And... am I wrong in recognizing today as a mortal holiday?"

She falters for a beat, surprised that he considered that to be information worthy of being stored in his mind. 

"I... well, no. It's Valentine's Day, yeah." 

"Mm, as I thought, then. Good." He says, before conjuring up a small, green cloud of seiðr, which left only a rose in its wake. 

She seemed openly surprised at that. He grins and cocks his head. 

"What? Did you want twenty instead, my sweet?"

"No... I just didn't think you'd be back today, and I also didn't think we'd be doing this."

"Doing... this?"

"Yeah, you know... celebrating Valentine's together."

He seems offended at that. 

"And why the Hel not? Have we become lifelong enemies in my short absence? Have we had a falling out?" He gasps dramatically, looking at her with wide eyes. "Have you... found another?" He asks, knowing full well she hasn't. His facade of shock was already faltering, his eyes gleaming with mirth, and his lip twitching ever so slightly. 

She groans, rolling her eyes.

"No, Loki."

"Then... whyever shouldn't we celebrate this, pet? We are a couple, yes? And not a couple of friends, either..."

The final few words he says are lost to her, mind getting caught up in what he calls her. He only really calls her that when he has particular intentions with her. It makes something deep inside of her warm up. 

"We are a couple... of course we are. I just didn't think you'd care."

"Well... my lover is a mortal, and I assume that she cares for such a popular holiday in her world. I am trying to be nice, you know..."

"And I appreciate that... but I didn't expect my immortal boyfriend to even pay attention to what day it is on Midgard, much less make the effort to gift me a rose." She says, resting her cheek on his arm resting on the couch in thanks. 

He turns up his nose slightly at her calling him her boyfriend. He didn't much like that term, least of all for himself. He found that lover was better.

"Well, dearest, I am trying to be romantic. And nice... nicer. For you." He declares, still holding that damned rose. 

She smiles, and takes it, inhaling the scent of it. It was addicting, and so very fresh. Clearly magical. His doing, of course. It was the most perfect flower she'd ever seen. Its red petals smelled fresh, like dew and earth, but also of their expected rose scent. However, there was something disctinct at the end of the scent... a sort of aftertaste. An aftersmell? She practically sighed in relief at the smell of it. Loki grinned, her reaction and thoughts surely being obvious. Most of all to him, with his mind reading powers (that he swore he didn't use on her unless explicitly told to).

"That's ambrosia," He says in that low, soft purr that makes her insides feel all hot and molten. 

"Ambrosia? I thought that was only for gods to have." 

"Mm... in food and drink, yes, I suppose so. But no one said anything about smelling it, hmm? A simple enough enchantment, pet. Now..." His hand finally, finally moves, moving to touch the back of her neck ever so gently. "What is it you smell, hm?"

She focuses on that smell, trying to name it for him (he seemed to be after her answer like a cat after the cream). 

"It's... sort of woodsy.. minty, I guess... and leather-y?" She speaks carefully, naming the scents out with careful consideration, her eyes closed to make sure she is smelling it all properly. 

Her eyes open, and she finds him looking all smug and proud, his hand now rubbing her neck softly. 

"It's you. It smells like you. This isn't ambrosia." 

"Oh..." He purrs proudly, leaning in. "But it is, my love... ambrosia tastes, or smells, like ones favourite things. I suppose that just means..." He moves in further, pressing the lightest kiss she's ever felt to her neck. "One of those things for you... is me,"

Her pulse flutters both at his words and at the touch of his lips to her skin. God, she just wanted to absolutely devour him sometimes. Okay, all of the time. He was all long limbs, and he was lean, but he was also so built. He was strong, and those shoulders... and that ass. And all the other, more salacious parts of him, and all they could and had done to her. 

"I've missed you," She says and she finds herself breathless in his presence. 

"Oh, pet... I've missed you, too..." He grins, his voice getting lower, the last few words nearly a groan. 

"I want you to kiss me..." She whispers.

"I'll kiss you... and then I'll kiss you everywhere... and then I shall lick you everywhere." He vows, pressing a kiss to her jaw, this time. 

She groans, hand moving to brace herself onto one of his biceps. 

"I want you to take me... or I can take you..." She says, unable to stop herself from getting closer, from trying to sit in his lap, from simply trying to make herself one with him. 

He laughs softly, even as he pulls her closer, half of her in his lap by now. 

"We've time enough for both, my heart... the night is yet young, and we've a fortnight to make up for, hm?"

"Plus, it is Valentine's Day." She reminds him softly, pressing the first of her kisses to his neck, and then his sharp jaw, and then those damned sharp cheekbones. 

He moans softly at her attentions, holding her closer by the waist. 

"Oh, yes, it is indeed... the day of love, and lust... we must do our best to celebrate it, yes?"

And celebrate it, they do indeed.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

This was supposed to be posted yesterday for Women’s International Day :’D sorry I don’t know how to draw bed sheets 😭

[cute-firelight]

I liked Caitvi in Season 2.

That said, that doesn’t mean I think their development is perfect.

For me what failed and felt kinda underwhelming was how the reuniting was done. It felt like as nothing had happened and they were like: oh! Well, You are here. And also Cait hiting Vi there again was not ok after what had happened. Like, that reuniting would have worked if the separation between them was less dramatic.

But for me, the rest of the development was handled very well and compensated that (the wording here is critical: FOR ME, if for other people is not enough is fine).

I liked the rawness of the impulsivity of what Caitlyn did, because honestly Cait was sooo bad but in general all their interactions after the bombing were really one sided from Caitlyn’s part, things were wrong since the start. The hit was just the culmination of all of it.

She convinced Vi to join the enforcers even with how hard was for her, then Vi begs her not to change, clinging to how Cait used to be when they met; but she now was in a complete another headspace.

You know, in the past I had a pretty bad moment psychologically, where my personality changed a lot. I felt like a genuine monster, I am not kidding. I never hit anyone but my behaviour still was totally not ok with my bf. I went to therapy, my boyfriend supported me and understood me, for my surprise, and now we have a very healthy relationship where I am a very supportive partner and we are both very happy with each other. It was all originated form insecurities and trauma, and because of that experience I can understand that ironically Cait felt powerless at that moment.

My interpretation of it is: she felt that the suit was big for her, but she had to wear it anyway to solve her mistake. In this mindstate she forces Vi to be an enforcer because she thinks is the same she is doing: wearing a suit she doesn’t want, and even if she doesn’t feel like it, because the situation requires to. Her dad did a hideous job at making her feel more guilty and more obligated to answer to it. Ofc I know you will say: but Vi’s trauma with enforcers is different than Cait’s with her mother and yes that is true. But is part of Cait blindness to the situation because of her mental state.

Then, Vi becomes an enforcer because she feels pressured to (this also probably needed a little bit of more showing and justification but I don’t see it unlikely).

They are hunting people with gas and all what it takes to solve everything is Cait to capture Jynx, this is a lot of pressure, she is dealing with the duel and everything at the same time. That moment of weakness and aggression from Cait was framed in a very specific situation when all the things that were pressuring her collapsed in one instant. Yes, her hitting embodied that privilege, and brutality but wasn’t that what they were already doing? I feel that is kinda the point? Cait there was perpetuating the system in where she was in by trying to hunt Jynx and by making all this gassing and stuff, and she felt forced to do it because of duty and guilt, and also that made her feel powered against her pain. Idk I liked that they dared to be so raw and harsh. (Basically, what I want to say here is that what you said about not being just a normal betrayal but a symbolism of their privilege difference and oppression I think that this was intentionally intended, I don’t understand the American lens comment bc I am not from the US)

What I would change of that scene maybe is the way the hit was done, because honestly the first time I watched I thought that she had broken a rib and let Vi injured. Sooo, maybe, not having Cait hit Vi at all and just to push her away and run. Then Vi would try to run after Cait again and in that moment Cait would threaten to hit Vi with the gun, then Vi would froze because that would remind her of her trauma and Cait would tell her about not wanting to see her again or hate her or something and to take the chance and run away (this scene could work both if the hit happens or not).

I wouldn’t rate her dark ark/redemption as perfect. Those are very very difficult to do but is not the worse I have seen. Again, if for you was enough or not is something more personal in my opinion.

Lastly, the ending of their arc makes a lot of sense. Cait said: fuck it. If she releases Jynx I don’t care, is not only Jynx’s fault but also my fault because I also couldn’t handle the situation between us properly. If there are more consequences I will face them.

Ambessa was a bigger threat than Jynx and I made her grow and she made the conflict worse. So basically: we both are the same. Cait trusted Vi’s judgement, something she didn’t do at the beginning by being super patronizing and saying how wrong she was, what was right to choose for her to do etc.. here she acknowledges Vi’s agency and lets her choose, with that Vi sees that the Caitlyn she fell for was still there. Caitlyn in general was very humbled down by the entire situation and she got to really grasp the power behind her privilege and how she affected things for the worse being even worse than Jynx in terms of consequences.

I want to say here, that I think that a lot of people wouldn’t have forgiven Cait, and that is valid. But Vi’s personality is like that. I think she is a person that is forgiving by nature, and she also has done terribly bad mistakes and this is why she forgives her. I know this would be less polemic if they were equals and that the show’s handling of inequality could have been way better. But I still liked it. I think their relationship will always have this inequality element ingrained with it; but the value of it is that they are able to see who each of them are beyond that. Also, I don’t see their relationship perfect after everything ended. I think that they still are going to need a lot of work to build a relationship.

Is sad that they didn’t let the writers of S1 be here as well, because I think that it would have helped to have more opinions of ways that some of the scenes could have been interpreted and dissected, besides the way they intended and I think that very small modifications to all of it would have improved it a lot. Because honestly the base of all of it is pretty solid and I feel that most people grudges about it are for details that feel too much or are out of place.

I feel that fans that defend Cait’s actions are also not ok, because the point of Cait’s arc is that is a dark arc. Characters that make mistakes are the ones that make a good dramatic story about how everyone’s context determine the way they act and how no matter how they try they can’t undo it. This traces back to Season 1 themes as well and is clear it was intended since the start. The execution and delivery are the reasons why it doesn’t work for everyone in my opinion.

for my own sanity, i try to stay away from caitvi discourse, but it’s truly baffling that some people still actively defend caitlyn hitting vi and are "dumbfounded" that it is enough for people to stop shipping them and voice their discontent about their relationship in s2.

one of the most common and dumb defenses i’ve seen is that caitlyn only hit vi once, as if the frequency of the act changes its nature. even a single instance of violence is still violence. highlighting that it happened only once does not negate its significance. it still happened, and it still matters. really, it's simple ...

but the dumbest attempt to defend this moment is comparing caitvi to other ships in arcane, when no other relationship in the series has a similar dynamic. in other pairings that involve physical conflict, both characters fight back or retaliate in some way, whether it’s jinx and ekko, viktor and jayce, or even vander and silco. but caitlyn hitting vi is entirely one-sided. vi does not hit back, and it is not framed as a fight. this moment is not a confrontation between equals but an instance of caitlyn exerting power over vi, someone who has already been through a lot of trauma (years of imprisonment and being beaten by enforcers), which caitlyn is very aware of.

but that’s if you watch arcane as a whole and not just for the relationship, because caitlyn hitting vi is a moment charged with systemic inequality. caitlyn represents the very institution that destroyed vi’s life. when she strikes her, it's not just an individual betrayal, it echoes the violence of an entire system that has oppressed zaunites for generations. it’s impossible to disregard that the historical and social power imbalance makes the scene feel so disturbing if you actually watch the show with your eyes open.

and it’s a major red flag. for caitlyn to hit vi, knowing what she has been through, is not just an act of violence but one that disregards the weight of vi’s suffering. she fails to see vi fully, not just as somebody willing to help her, a potential partner, or a fighter, but as someone wounded by her past.

also, i take back what i said about the dumbest attempt to defend this scene being comparing caitvi to other ships. the dumbest one is when people minimize caitlyn's action by defending the enforcers in general ... because no, the idea that the backlash against caitlyn hitting vi in arcane is simply a matter of an “american lens” is dumb asf. a lot of what's in the show mirrors the kind of systemic violence seen in many parts of the world, not just in the usa. y'all are not exceptional. class struggles, institutionalized oppression, and the abuse of power by those who hold privilege aren't exclusive to america. please wake up. these are themes that transcend national and cultural boundaries. vi’s trauma from imprisonment is not an american experience alone. the psychological and physical toll of being incarcerated is universal. how dumb do you have to be to actually think otherwise?

anyway, even if i don’t like that arcane didn’t frame caitlyn’s action as a serious issue and that it is treated as just another moment in their relationship, the willingness to ignore or rationalize it says more about the fandom’s biases than the actual content of the show imo ...

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

tomorrow is my first day of classes as I go back to school for the first time in eight years and my family has picked today to blow up at each other and drag me into it

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[acekoomboom]

characters that are very me-coded but i can't explain how:

Thanks for tagging me in @outer-edges ;) Gah I wanna explain why they're all me so bad but I can't bc that's not how you play.

@watatsumi-island and @the-portal-rule-book you're next :) if you wanna.

Wendy Darling, Peter Pan (2003)/ Peeta Mellark, The Hunger Games/ Jane Villanueva, Jane The Virgin/ Kara Danvers, Supergirl/ Samwise Gamgee, The Lord of the Rings/ Melissa McCall, Teen Wolf (TV)/ Dawn Summers, Buffy the Vampire Slayer/ Sailor Jupiter, Sailor Moon (1992)/ Angela Montenegro, Bones.

[maxwellhauskaffee]

Thank you! People forget it's the 1830s. What's considered normal and ethical then is different now. Same will happen for our time.

By all accounts, both are mutually providing societally moral-loving gestures and one could argue they're a bit more progressive for their time. They're trying to uphold social roles they believe show love and fidelity.

It's as my mother said, "I've been married to your father for over forty years, and we still will never know everything about each other. You can never fully know someone. Doesn't matter if you date for two or twenty. Marriage is a roll of the dice and a matter of trust. Trust that what this person's shown continues to show. Understanding there are deeper layers to them, good and bad, that you'll never reach, even if they want you to."

She also mentioned the obvious: the real test begins after marriage. Once vowes are exchanged and you live together, you're locked in for the hard game.

Ellen and Thomas have only been married for a few months? The hardest years of marriage tend to be the first three. Both partners REALLY have to work through things. It's why "for better or for worse" is a thing.

Sans Orlok, we'll never truly know how Ellen and Thomas would fare. Yet I think both are trying very hard to make it work.

Thomas wants a good life for Ellen, especially with her mental condition ( that he doesn't know to be otherworldly ). It would be a Victorian death sentence to not strive for financial stability. Especially if he has to medically provide for Ellen.

Even in her fits, Thomas doesn't abhor her. Is he scared? Sure. Who the fuck wouldn't be? I had seizures growing up and they scared people. I get it. Instead, Thomas tries to console Ellen before his trip and many times after.

When seeing her condition upon return, he wants to call a doctor which standard of the time. I don't think it was out of absolute fear, but in desperation to help her. In fact, he keeps her with those he knows she enjoys the company of for her mental well-being.

Of course, this is the early game where most make sincere efforts due to the honeymoon stage. But considering the intense shit they go through in the course of a few weeks, it's clear they're still trying to uphold their vows not out of societal obligation, but love ( with a bucket of trauma bonding ).

I don’t think we talk enough about how despite being married Ellen and Thomas were essentially in the first month of living together stage we would consider a part of dating, because it’s Germany 1838. It’s kind of unfair to judge their relationship as unsalvageable when we only see them at the stage where major problems first start popping up and needing to be worked through.

It’s also unfair to judge them how we would view a relationship at the newly wed stage (usually engagement after at least a few months of living together—usually a few years after), like yeah they’ve written letters and had little supervised dates pre engagement/post engagement, but that’s not the same as living together at all.

Also when major problems did start popping up that they needed to work through they’d both gotten a large serving of trauma (both mental and physical), so they’re not exactly operating at normal capacity then either. So we can’t really judge how’d they’d have worked through problems by that angle either.

[arolesbianism]

I should rly start eternal gales posting again I need to make sure the ppl who follow me know how much Tali and Aris make me to insane so that the isat au can have its full effect but alas I am allergic to drawing the human eg cast like 99% of the time and rn the only thing stopping that from being 100% is that I like fucking around with different art styles sometimes

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[luveline]

I wanted to know how Aaron Hotchner would react to discovering the existence of a daughter (something from college perhaps), she would be his copy both in appearance and personality

—Hotch has a surprise visitor and the world spins on a new axis. daughter!reader, 2.2k

readers physical traits like hair and skin colour are not mentioned, but she is described as looking like her mother (also not described) and as sharing some characteristics with Hotch!<3 I also altered canon so that Hotch and Haley take a break at college 

“There is a kid in your office.” 

“Morgan?” 

Hotch pulls his phone away to check. D. Morgan blinks on his phone screen. It’s a slightly absurd sentence. 

“There’s a child in my office?” he asks, returning the phone to his ear. 

“I’m standing with her right now. She won’t tell me who she is. Anderson let her in.” 

“How old?” Hotch asks, scratching his cheek. God forbid he steal two minutes of peace in the bathroom. 

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m twenty two,” a feminine voice says. 

“You said kid,” Hotch says, frowning. 

“Anyone under twenty five is a kid to me. Are you on your way?” 

He sighs. “Yeah,” he says, and hangs up, dropping the small body of his phone into his pocket. Twenty two isn’t a kid, it’s a year younger than Spencer was when he started at the BAU; Hotch doesn’t underestimate the intelligence of young adults. Why you’re in his office is another thing. He can’t have one day without inconvenience. 

Hotch makes his way into the BAU office and up the stairs to the half level where his own office resides. Morgan leans against the door with his arms crossed, standing to attention when Hotch passes. 

“Thanks, Morgan,” Hotch says. 

Morgan nods, sending a curious gaze at you before he leaves. 

You’re dressed very formally for someone your age, but it’s not as though this is different from the norm of the building. You have on a dark shirt with a starched collar and a fitted blazer, a crisp skirt, and leather Mary Jane heels, one pressed flat to the back of the other. 

You stand when he comes in. 

“Mr. Hotchner?” you ask. 

“Yes?” he asks. 

You have a small file in your hand. Paper with worn edges pokes out of one side as though you’d been looking through it and put it hastily away, and the Manila file itself is fresh.

“Do we know one another?” he asks. 

You look familiar. It’s possible he would’ve known your parents —it could make sense. A colleague or acquaintance assumed he could help you with something, and you in your naivety you made your way in. 

“I think you know my mother.” 

“And she was?” he prompts. Not impolite, but needing to move forward. He’s very busy. 

You take a small step back. “Mr. Hotchner,” you say again, something nervous in your eyes as you lift your chin, “I don’t want to waste your time. I’m aware I might sound foolish, or that this… might not be something you want to hear, but. My mother told me you met in college, and that…” 

You bite your lip. 

He’s incredibly confused now. Not one to let a stranger suffer whether in real pain or awkwardness, he opens his hand. “Can I?” 

“Yes, sir,” you say.

You don’t want to pass it over, but you do as he’s asked. 

The photograph is a shock, held with a paperclip to a magnolia sheet of paper. It’s of Hotch, undoubtedly, a much younger Hotch sitting on a bench with a woman he recognises immediately. He only looks at her, and he knows why you’re here, and he knows exactly what you’re thinking. 

“Do you remember her?” you ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer.

“She says you’re the only man that could… possibly be my father.” You hold your hands behind your back. 

He lifts the photograph. There’s not much else to look at, only your photo ID, your birth certificate where he is glaringly not listed, as well as your mother’s birth certificate, and proof of her enrollment at George Washington University. 

You look a little teary. Trying very hard to be sober, as you have been since he laid eyes on you, but clearly getting more and more upset as time goes on. He’s feeling a similar ache, a searing pain in his chest, staring at you from over the Manila folder to really, really look at you. He swears he can see something of himself in your face, though he’s not sure what. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking. 

There’s certainly some of him in your frown. 

“I think you should sit down,” he says softly. 

You sit down immediately in the chair you’d inhabited a few minutes ago. 

He’s not sure what to say. Are you sure it could only be him? Is your mother? But you’re looking at him with an expression he practically trademarked, whether he wanted to or not, and the proof is in his hands: you’re your mother’s daughter, and Hotch would have slept with her almost twenty three years ago. He doesn’t need much time to do the math. 

“I realise my word alone isn’t a lot to go on, sir, so– so if you’d want to, I’ll of course submit for a paternity test. Or if you want nothing to do with me, that’s okay too.” 

“It’s not okay,” he says, closing your folder. 

Your eyes widen just a touch. 

“Can I sit with you?” he asks. 

You push your chair back to make lots of room. He sits in the chair besides yours, cautious that being across a desk from you is insensitive, or cold, at least. 

He looks at you and he’s sure that you’re his. The longer you sit there, the more sure he becomes.

“I do want a paternity test,” he says, watching your tight nod. 

He believes you. And truly, if he was unsure of what you’re saying he’d still give you grace now, because the first time you meet your father should be full of love. He should’ve been there to hold you in one arm twenty two years ago, he should’ve been there for you through everything he’s already missed. 

“But I believe you,” he says.

“You do?” 

“I’m a very good judge of character. I know that you believe what you’re telling me completely,” he says.

“How?”

“When you’re nervous your hand drifts to your chest, but you didn’t move when you suggested I’m your father. You haven’t once checked the door or looked toward the camera in the corner of the room.” And the full truth. “I want to believe you.” 

“Why?” you ask.

“You look like your mother, but…” He lets himself smile. “You sound like me.” 

You laugh under your breath. “Hopefully not so deep.” 

“I’ve had it described to me as mellifluous.” 

“I’ve wanted to hear your voice since I can remember. My mom didn’t talk about you much, but I’ve always wondered. She told me she didn’t know who you were, and…”

“And you believed her. Any child would do the same.” 

“She’s made mistakes.” You look to him with eyebrows gently pinched, asking him to understand. “But I looked you up. When she told me your name, I looked for you online, and… I always thought I never needed you, even if I wanted to know you. I thought you might want to know me. I thought that a man like you would want to know.”

There’s something you’re not saying. Hotch doesn’t mind. “Of course I want to know you.” 

You chance a smile at him. “You really believe me?” 

“You were expecting me to turn you away.” 

“No, just– I’m not a kid, even if your colleague said so. And I’m not an image of you, I don’t have your eyes. All I have is that photograph. There's not much evidence to go on.” 

He sees no reason why a young girl like you would walk into his office and tell him who you are. Self preservation insists on a paternity test, and soon —UnSubs haven’t ever done something so conniving as imitating a family member yet, but there’s no prediction for evil— but Hotch has an inherent sense of the truth.  

“What do you do?” he asks. 

You frown. “Sorry?” 

“What do you do?” he asks again, “You’re dressed like a lawyer.” 

You nod with a smile you’re pushing into a flat line unsuccessfully. “I’m at GWU. For law, like you and my mom.” 

“She only just told you who I am?” He speaks each word carefully. 

“The photo fell out of an old album, and I had a funny feeling. I asked her about it and she said I’m too much like you. She admitted it like the secret had been eating her alive.” You look at your hand on the armrest. “We aren’t getting along right now.” 

“I don’t know why she wouldn’t tell you. Or me,” he says honestly. 

“I don’t know either.” 

Hotch is expecting a lot more awkwardness than he feels as he puts his hand over yours. You stay very still. 

“Thank you for coming here today.” He gives your hand the barest squeeze and stands. “Have you eaten? I could take you out for dinner,” he suggests. 

You stand with him. “Are you serious?” you ask, gentle and pleased at once. 

“I think you have a lot to tell me, and I’d love to listen.” 

“You’re not working?” 

Sometimes, sometimes, there are things that can be worked around or held on the back burner. You and Hotch go for lunch. 

—

Aaron Hotchner knows many important people. Your paternity test takes a day, less than twenty four hours from the time you both submit samples, but you have a class you can’t miss and he’s sure you’re nervous, so you don’t meet again for two days regardless. By then, you both know the results. (And Aaron’s had to have a very strange conversation with his wife, in which she doesn’t believe him, and then has to sit down.) 

He can admit to being far more protective of you once he knows the truth for sure, though he knows it before the results come back. You’re his daughter, and he’s left you without a father for two decades of your life, your formative years, time he can never get back. 

He doesn’t even know what to do. How can he make up for it? Twenty two years of birthday cards? He feels like buying you a diamond necklace with a stone for each year, and then he wants to buy you a house, but mostly he wants to give you a hug. He thinks about it for so long the morning before he’s scheduled to meet you again that it makes him as upset as he’s ever been in his life, desperate to say sorry to you and your mother and furious with her for keeping you a secret. 

He thinks of all those years without an inkling of your existence, and now you’re the only thing he can think about. His remorse makes him sick. 

You’re smiling when you see him. For a millisecond, you look like Jack. 

“Hi, Mr. Hotchner!” you say, standing from the table, your formal dress and cardigan pressed neatly, your hands held behind your back.

‘Mr. Hotchner’ will need to be fixed quickly, though he won’t force you to call him anything else. He can’t help himself, however.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly. 

You pause, and you laugh. “This is weird.” 

He doesn’t mean to make it weirder, but he opens his arms, and he waits for an indication that you might not want a hug before he leans in to hold you. You’re still so young. There’s still time for him to be a good father to you. 

He can’t say everything he needs to in his hug, and at the end of the day he’s a stranger to you; you probably don’t want him to hug you for too long. But he rubs your back, and he promises himself that he won’t let you down twice.

Your arm curls tentatively behind his back. For a second, you press your face to his shoulder and breathe. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away. 

Your lip twitches to one side like his would when presented with such heavy sincerity. “I’m okay. How did, um, Haley take the news?” 

“She just wants to meet you, okay? You’re part of my family now.” 

You give no indication you’ve heard what it is he’s saying to you, or whether you like it as you sit down at the dinner table. He quite likes that some way, somehow, you’ve become like him, but he wonders if he might not love it so much when he asks how your mom is taking this new development and you just smile. 

“We’re going to tell Jack about everything this weekend,” he adds. “He’ll be excited, if no one else.” 

“And Haley doesn’t mind?” 

“She’s not going to ask you to babysit anytime soon, honey, but no, of course she doesn’t. He should meet his sister before she’s too old for legos.” 

You actually laugh. 

Dad humour transcends age, and for that, Hotch is grateful. 

—

only after I finished did I wonder if I misinterpreted the request and this was supposed to be x reader with a shared daughter so if that’s the case I’m sorry original requester!! and I can totally write that if that’s what you meant 🫶❤️

[pha55ed]

Nonsense Christmas || F1/F2

type :: smut!

tw/cw :: smut!, hot women in minimal clothing!!!, sexual jokes,

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: you get offered to do a photoshoot for christmas which is awesome! but the drivers then find out it's a lingerie shoot and lose their minds

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

yourusername : so excited to announce my collab with savage x fenty! this design is so cute and perfect for girlys to surprise their bfs (or gfs) in! which is what im doing rn! hi carlos 👋😊

→ user 01: OH MY GAWWWD??? JAW ON THE FLOOR

⎯→ user 02: Carlos gotta be able to fight or else imma snatch her away

→ carlossainz55: you look lovely! (answer the phone now)

⎯→ yourusername: thank you!! (no, im scared

→ user 03: her face card is so lethal

→ user 04: she's this generations it girl omfg

The second you answered his calls, Carlos was hyperventilating. It was like you could practically hear how feral he was going after seeing your photoshoot. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him going crazy. Your surprise went perfectly!

"I'm coming home now," He says sternly, "Unlock all the doors, I'm running in."

"Well that doesn't sound very safe." You say, trying to joke with him. Thank god he couldn't see you in person or else he would see how wide you were grinning at his words.

"Oh shut up, wait for me on the bed" He says as he hangs up.

You did your job and now all you had to do was wait- Oh my fucking god he's at the door already. You can't even say anything before he's all up on you, getting ready to berate you for looking too good for the world's eyes.

"I missed you" He mumbles as he kisses your neck eagerly. His hands roaming down to your ass, giving it a squeeze which makes you laugh. But he's not smiling at all. You knew what was gonna happen and you didn't care.

Charles Leclerc | 16

yourusername : the victoria secret winter showcase was such a blast! loved seeing all my girls again and esp all you guys! i wouldn't be here without you <3 happy holidays to all

→ user 01: MOTHER IS BACK!!!!

⎯→ user 02: Literally the best walk in the whole show

→ charles_leclerc: i will go to war for you

⎯→ user 03: she awoken his primal instincts

→ user 04: will we see you again??? u were SLAYINGGG

⎯→ yourusername: duh! see you next year <3

→ user 04: she's beautiful, humble, and with a rich boyfriend? when is it my turn

The second you got off stage, Charles was doing his absolute best to compose himself. Seeing you still in your lingerie set, cute little hat and gloves made him pants feel so tight. You kept wanting to say goodbye to all the girls, thanking the staff, being your usual self. This is the one time Charles was wishing you would keep your mouth shut and rush home.

Once you both were out, he rushed you into the car. But not the passenger seat, instead he pushed you into the back seats. He quickly followed you, unbuckling his belt and staring at your body.

"Charles!" You say, shocked at how desperate this man was. "We can't! People are gonna see-"

"And?" He says as he rips his belt off and begins to unbutton his shirt. "My windows are tinted, amor, no one will see."

He's hands are quick, instantly getting your clothes off too. Once he saw the same white lacy set you were wearing earlier, he can't help but grin like crazy. He was worshipping the ground you walked on. Practically licking your footsteps.

"I'm so so lucky," He groans, his hands caresses your body with such care. "So so lucky."

Lando Norris | 04

yourusername : skim's winter collection is out!!! And I'm part of it! So happy to show off these sets to the world ❤️

→ user 01: body is TEAAAA

⎯→ user 02: the body of my dream fr fr

→ landonorris: but when i wear ur bras I'm a slut???

⎯→ yourusername: u got no boobs to deserve a bra

⎯→ landonorris: so ur calling me skinnyyyyyyy?

→ user 03: slayed so hard that dinosaurs r extinct

⎯→ yourusername: don't blame me for that :(

→ user 04: can't believe lando is just... joking around... do u think this is a fucking game? you think this is funny? i will steal your girl and propose and start a family of 5.

⎯→ landonorris: trust me, we're gonna be a family of 5 once i'm home

And he wasn't joking about that comment because you two have been at it for almost an hour at this point. He was flipping you from position to position just to make sure he got every single angle of you in this lingerie set. Doggy, missionary, cowgirl, all sorts of positions that even Sabrina Carpenter hasn't tried.

He already cummed once too, but he was so horny that he was instantly recharged. Thankfully he was sane enough to help clean you up before pounding you once again. But that was the only break you had. You couldn't help but just feel bad for your neighbors for having to hear you two go wild.

But Lando isn't a monster! He knows that it can hurt after going for so long. So while your whining, begging him to slow down or give you a break for minute, he simply just reaches for the bedside drawer. He whips out a fat tube of lube and squirts some onto his dick before quickly getting back to work.

"L-Love you," He mumbles as he keeps thrusting in and out "Love you so much, ahh"

Oscar Piastri | 81

yourusername: let my inner princess out for Victoria Secret's Santa Baby collection! every piece is so precious, just like all the crew members and girls 💋

→ user 01: literally a goddess

⎯→ user 02: blessed by aphrodite herself

⎯→ user 03: she IS aphrodite

⎯→ yourusername: don't curse me girl 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

→ user 04: ur such a ball of sunshine UGHHHH

→ user 05: i pray this doesn't get on my bf's feed

→ user 06: can oscar fight?

⎯→ oscarpiastri: no but i can dox you

You know "Jealous" by Nick Jonas? That's exactly how he's feeling right now. Seeing everyone admire not just your body but how lovely your energy is was making him want to burn the entire building down. He was so supportive of your being a model, how could he gate keep your beauty from the world?

But now, oh god he hates this. He rushes you both home after the shoot and instantly lays you on the bed. His mind is racing yet he's not saying much to you.

"Oscar?" You ask him, looking up at him from the bed. Which instantly makes his dick throb, something you see through his pants. Even just saying his name might drive him to the edge.

"If I cover you in hickies, you can't work anymore, right?" He says, taking off your top and rushing to unbutton your jeans.

"Don't do that," You say trying to sound stern but you did love the idea. "You know I have another shoot soon!"

"You have foundation," He says as he begins to kiss down your neck and pressing harsh circles on your clit "You'll live." He says as he pushes your panties to the side. Your breathing hitches, knowing how good he was with his fingers.

"Unless," He pulls his hands away and looks down at you. "you really don't want to?"

But he knows you want it, he just wanted to hear you say it. To know you were as needy for him that he was for you.

Max Verstappen | 01

yourusername: i WOULD be freezing cold but thank god for the skims fleece bodysuits!! happy holidays to all! may ur pussys be warm and used ⛷️

→ user 01: (Y/N)?!?!?!1 THE CAPTION

⎯→ user 02: i need to know if kim's reaction to this 😭

→ user 03: literally like a barbie doll

→ user 04: looked at myself and sighed

⎯→ yourusername: stalked ur page and found ur facebook, GIRL u go to stanford, have a nice ass house, AND A LETHAL ASS FACECARDDDD hush ur mouth, ur lovely

⎯→ user 04: omg thank you??!?!?!?!! 😭😭

⎯→ user 05: she's the ultimate girls-girls

→ user 06: if max doesn't comment soon i'mma assume she's free for me

→ maxverstappen1: sorry i was drooling, im only commenting to scare user 06 away

⎯→ user 06: im gonna hex you.

You fully unlocked mad max at these photos. Although the shoot was simple and not even super suggestive: he was fuming and needed to get it out. He was joking in the comments, but he’s already jacked off once to the photos.

And once he gets home, it’s over for you. You’re pinned against the wall, his lips going all over your body. Not an inch of you is left unkissed.

“Unbelievable” he said as he sneaks a hand behind your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. He tugs you downwards, you already know that that means.

Instantly you’re on your knees, looking up at him as if you had no idea why he was so angry. That just made him even more angry. Which may or may not have been your intention.

He unbuckled his pants quickly, throwing the belt to the side and letting his pants fall down to his knees. Your hands already know to do and pull his boxers down. And you’re instantly hit with the sight of his hard cock, a veiny and thick one.

You’ve seen it many times before, but you always can’t help but stare in awe of how something that size of a wrist is fitting inside you.

“Don’t just stare at it.” He tugs your face directly into his dick, smushing your face against it. “Get to work.”

Oliver Bearman | 87

yourusername: so so so happy to modeling the newest set for my bestie's brand! i'm wearing... nothing... 😉 the real sets come out in a week! stay tuned MWAH

→ user 01: my whole face is PINK omg

⎯→ user 02: my tip is RED

⎯→ user 03: oh...

⎯→ user 02: i'm a girl, dw

→ user 03: ... start an onlyfans... please.... please please please

→ user 04: oh my godddddd, i dropped the keys to my 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO, oh I'm so clumsy! (I'm 6'0 too) (and pretty funny)

⎯→ olliebearman: and i drive for ferrari, at 6'1, whilst cracking jokes

Ollie knows his worth, he knows he's a highly sought after man. But he's never felt more insecure than now, reading your comments filled with not just men but also girls?! He had to fight off both sides, which made him feel even more weary that his girlfriend is so desired.

So the only way for him to stop his insecurities was easy! Just fuck it out of his system, duh! So now, you're stuck bent over in doggy style in the shower. Why the shower? Because he knew he would make an absolute mess out of you.

He's pounding into you, making loud slaps against the walls. It echos throughout the entire bathroom. You're sure your neighbors can hear but there's not much you can do. You're stuck being a moaning mess while he's holding onto your hips for dear life.

As if that wasn't enough, he leaned forward to whisper into your ear. "Never, never again..." He says, breathing heavy from being so tired, yet his body was moving on his own. "No one can see you like this, ever."

Paul Aron | 17

yourusername: "angel?" set is out now! so proud to be part of the process for this🪽 i did, indeed, feel like an angel

→ user 01: mind you this is my first impression of you... and i'm following asap

⎯→ user 02: i was prepared to fight u for a second

→ user 03: LAWWDDD??? I COULD TAKE A BITE OUTTA UR ASS

⎯→ user 04: enough ass to feed a whole family of 5

→ user 05: paul... count your days

⎯→ paularon_: what did i do???

⎯→ user 06: u better worship the ground she walks on

⎯→ paularon_: of course i do, that's my whole purpose

→ user 07: perfect body, gorgeous face, hot ass boyfriend, GOD HAS FAVORITES

Oh he's livid. Not because you did the shoot, how could he blame you for simply looking good? He knew he picked a baddie and was ready to take all the repercussions alongside it. But he was livid because the fans were practically drooling over you. He's a possessive guy, it's basically his middle name.

He won't get off you at all, as if he needs you like air. His comment wasn’t a lie, he was worshipping you just like he should. Leaving hickies all over your neck, sucking on your breast, fingering you until you cummed at least twice. And he's not even done.

It's like he's trying his best to tease himself for as long as possible. You see how huge his dick is, how it's practically drowning in it's own precum. But he refuses to fuck you until he knows you're satisfied.

He's mainly doing this because he knows he's going to cum fast. Just from giving you pleasure makes him want to cum already. Being inside would only make him last one thrust, maybe two if he's lucky.

You're tired, fucked out from his fingers and sore from his hickies. But he simply kisses your cheek before bringing his head down to your cunt.

"N-No," you say, so overstimulated and wanting to see him get pleasure too. "Paul, just... Just f-fuck me already"

"Shhh" He says, not giving a single care for what you have to say. As he licks your cunt. You shiver from the touch, already knowing you're going to stuck in that bed for hours.

Pepe Marti | 21

yourusername: was i cold? 😣 yeah, but it was so worth it! loved working with the crew to take these breath-taking shots, i've never felt prettier 💌

→ user 01: oh. my. GOD??????? THE BODY

⎯→ user 02: seeing her without a 10lbs hoodie hiding her is so weird but SO GOOD

⎯→ user 03: literally thought this was an entirely different girl

→ user 03: i'm putting u in my heart locket

⎯→ user 04: literally going to print this out onto my wall

→ user 05: pepe is so so SO FUCKING lucky

→ pepemartiofficial: my beautiful girl 😘

Although you were much more shy and reserved than others, seeing you do this shoot made him feel so proud of you. Every photo was stared at by him for hours, just loving every detail that makes you you. He can’t help but feel so lucky to have such a beautiful girl but see your confidence grow.

So now he’s fucking you gently, dick pushing against your stomach from how long he is. His head is in your neck while his hands are holding yours. Each thrust is slow and patient, making you feel each centimeter of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans into your neck. “So so, proud” he barely mumbles that. Feeling the strong urge to cum.

Although fucking with him was gentle this time, you still came. He always made sure you were placed first. So now he’s basically just overstimulating you, going at an agonizing slow pace to just fuck with you.

“T-Than’ you.” You say to him, wanting to grab his hair or back. But you can’t, since you’re pinned down by his own hands that are interlocked with yours.

“Gonna cum,” he groans again into your neck also pathetically “Inside?” He begs “That’s okay right??”

[xazse]

Warnings: KittyHybrid!Reader: ears and a tail that’s all + Prince!Satoru + Chubby!Reader + dryhumping + consensual somnophilia + mentions of Prince!Suguru, Nanami, Toji and Sukuna + Fem!Reader + Royalty Au

Imagine Satoru’s parents gifting Prince!Gojo a pet, a different type of pet, you’re a hybrid, a human with ears and a tail. Usually your kind is sought upon to be tested on and even used as maids. Everyone wants their hands on hybrids they go for millions of dollars because of how rare they are.

So when his parents call for him to come to the throne room he’s apprehensive thinking they were gonna introduce him to another princess, one he doesn’t even want. He thinks they’re all the same, so ready to pop out a baby to get that title.

When his parents have the maids bring you in he’s in awe, you’re a pretty thing too, he knows you were so fucking expensive just by the color of your fluffy ears and tail. A chubby thing he can’t keep his eyes off.

The dress you have on brings out your curves nice and plump he’s already obsessed.

“One of those Cathybrid ladies Satoru.” His dad is the first to speak, he beckons you over and you obediently follow to stand at his side.

“All for you my beautiful boy, you’ve been working extremely hard, no more sneaking out or causing trouble. We are very proud of you.” His adoring mother says in a soothing tone.

“She’s yours to do what you want with, she comes from a bad place be wary of that Satoru.”

His parents tell him to leave and become familiar with you.

Satoru doesn’t consider himself to be a shy person but right now he can’t even speak, you’re both sat on his bed sitting in silence, it’s really killing him, he wants to

Tell you just how pretty you are but he needs to be cautious not creepy.

With baby steps and lots of patience Satoru and you are finally comfortable with each other, maybe you’re too comfortable. You won’t leave Satoru alone at all, you constantly whine to be with him at all times.

He needs to go to an important meeting? You’re there right by his side always. His parents have had to reprimand you both for being too touchy in public, no you can’t secretly sneak off just to suck on Satoru’s thick tongue.

Satoru loves when you’re both in his room and in the midst of the cuddling session you start purring it’s so rare but so damn cute, you don’t even seem to recognize you’re doing it, you just look so content laying on him and rubbing all over him secretly purring.

The licking gets him too, he can’t help but slip his hand into his pants when you lick his chest, he fondles his cock till he cums on himself, his loud whines from the pleasure feel way too good.

He fondles your tail and ears to get you going, you’re both too shy to go any further than just dry-humping each other but it does get the job done, by the end of the session your both covered in sweat and underwear ruined with how wet they are.

He loves the extra fat on your body, it drives him insane, Prince!Satoru won’t admit it but he loves dragging his fat cock on your clothed plump ass from time to time when your sleep, you’ve said you don’t mind and that he’s free to do what he pleases but that’s all he’ll do just hump away till he cums again and again in his pants.

Prince Satoru and his cute kitty!hybrid that he just adores to the point where he loves showing you off to the other princes mainly: Suguru, Nanami, Toji and Sukuna.

They’re extremely jealous, they’ve been trying to find something like you but keep coming up empty so all they can do is get crumbs of information Satoru gives.

He’s always bragging about how you won’t leave him alone how they’re so unlucky to not have you.

When they talk to you they find that you’re extremely friendly, so friendly that you don’t mind when they give you tight hugs or maybe small kisses on the cheek. Prince Sukuna has tried and failed to get you to be with him many many times, everytime you give him that confused tilt and say you’re Satoru’s.

Sweet Prince Nanami makes sure to always gives you pretty roses that you just love, Satoru always has to win your affection back by giving you an even bigger bouquet of flowers.

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[pixiepipedreams]

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — distant flickerings, greener scenery // in-ho x reader

♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader, hints of gi-hun x reader ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s) ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 4.2k ♡  ⁄ summary: after losing your mom at 18, you move to south korea with your father for a fresh start. he incurs a lot of debt, and on the verge of losing your student visa, you enter the squid game. quickly adhering to gi-hun's group to increase your chance of survival, you gain the attention of the strange player 001... THIS IS PART ONE OF A SERIES!! (➋) (➌)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Life is a series of bad decisions and dead-ends.

It's something you've tried not to believe, but your mother's misery had been infused into your bones, the code of your very being. Every day, you tried to bring more light to the world, to love even the little things - to love those little things even more, just for existing. Every shifting cloud in the sky, every gentle breeze, every moment has joy if you know where to look. As much as you love your mother, she only saw the worst in life. When she died, you were only 18, but it gave you a sense of freedom. You applied for a student visa to South Korea, wanting to live somewhere that would remind you the least of what you've lost. Your father moved with you, and things were okay, for a few years.

On the brink of losing your visa, and finding out your father has incurred a huge debt, you felt like you were running out of choices. Until a handsome man in the subways gave you an opportunity. You didn't know the game very well, but you managed to win a few rounds of ddakji, well worth the harsh slaps you received for losing even more. When he gave you a business card, a chance to earn more money, dig yourself out of the pit that threatened to swallow you whole... you hesitated.

Then your father got hospitalized. You couldn't take on his debt alone, let alone cover his hospital fees. So you called him. When you awake in a strange place, the number 132 written on a green tracksuit you don't remember putting on, you get the sinking feeling that you made the wrong choice.

Your mother's voice rings through your head when the first game starts, and player 456 shouts to everyone that these games could cost your life. He sounded insane, but the bundle of dread in your stomach was impossible to ignore. You believed him.

And then the first person died.

You were one of the first to make it past the finish line, ushering as many people as you could through. It wasn't enough. You have to tear your eyes away from the bloody bodies littering the field, feeling sick. But at least there's the sky, above you. Blue and bright and beautiful, like hope itself. The wind moving the sparse clouds makes you feel both small and big, like maybe you could make it. You're only in your early 20s, you still have so much life to live.

The vote gets announced in the dormitories, and when it's your turn at the button, you have no clue what the correct path is. Player 044's words play in your mind - The time and place of each one of your deaths was decided from the instant you were born. There's no changing it now. No matter how hard you try to fight it, you'll never be able to escape your fate. Your hand hovers, then you press 'O'. One more game.

The final player votes the same way as you, ensuring that everyone will play again. The 'X's are groaning, distraught, but some of them have the same fatalistic hope in their eyes that mirror your own. Your eyes find 456, noting his deep disappointment, almost to the point of despair. You feel a hint of guilt, but you know you're one of 183 people who voted the same. It would've been easier to assuage that guilt, though, if it wasn't such a close vote. Just one person could have changed the tides, shifted fate...

You feel compelled to approach him, but you're not the only one. You end up to the right behind player 001, the last person who voted. "You're the reason I ended up voting to stay. It's true. After the first game, I thought I was going to quit. And then I saw you, and I thought, 'One more game. Then I can go.'"

You freeze. Hadn't you thought nearly the same thing? Your mind buzzes, looking at the side profile of 001. He's older than you, like most of the people here, and you get struck by the feeling that you're too young to have ended up in a place like this. But if it wasn't you, maybe that recruiter would have found your father.

Maybe that was his initial plan, until your dad ended up in the hospital.

They're talking about the next game, how 456 played something called Honeycomb last time. The players in the crowd around the previous champion murmur in excitement at having a better chance in the next game. "It probably won't be the same game," you say quietly, almost to yourself. But everyone around you grows quiet, looking at you. You glance from 001 to 456, realizing everyone is waiting for you to continue. You clear your throat. "There's plenty of children's games, are there not? I'm sure they change it every time. They probably only keep Red Light, Green Light because it's easy, universal. It's the perfect way to introduce the true nature of these games. But everything else is probably different."

There's a murmur of agreement, but your eyes stay on 456. There's a hardness to his expression that doesn't match the deep smile lines that have formed over his life. He doesn't look surprised by the idea you'd presented. He must think the same thing, himself.

"You're American, aren't you?" 001 asks, drawing your eyes to him. Something about his gaze is intense, pinning you in place. You swallow, nodding, your spine straightening on instinct. You've been in South Korea for long enough to know their customs, and you know that those older than you are due a certain amount of respect. It's better to overdo it than do too little.

"That's right, sir. I'm here on a student visa," you say, ducking your head slightly, then meet his eyes again. His expression doesn't change, but somehow, you feel like he's looking at you differently. Sharper, somehow. Like he's taking you apart, piece by piece.

What the hell?

In-ho's quiet, for a long moment, but it's not because he has nothing to say. He has too much he wants to say - that you're too young to be in a place like this, that you must be at a disadvantage in this series of Korean children's games, that you're sharp in guessing that the next game will be different. He designed these games, he knows you're right. None of that should matter to him. He's here on a mission, to challenge Gi-hun at every turn, make him rethink his view of the world. Player 132 - he's sure if he thought long enough, he would remember your name, although he'd long since stopped memorizing every name in the files of players that cross his desk. But your eyes hold his in a way that tugs at him, makes him feel something different. He hasn't felt something new in years, not since his wife passed while he was in the games.

"You have a good point," he says with a slight nod. "Still, I hope you're wrong. It'd be nice, to have an advantage."

He finally breaks your gaze, and it feels like your insides have all been flipped around and turned over, like he'd looked over everything that makes you you. You look at the ground as he continues talking to 456. Eventually, the other players disperse, disappointed by what 456 had to say. You linger, though, leaning against the pole of a nearby bunk bed.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question? Why are you here? Why'd you come back again? You said you won the game, made it out. And that would mean you won 45.6 billion won. Did you spend all of it already?" 001 asks, eyes searching 456's expression.

"Did you start betting again?" 456's friend, 390, pipes up.

"That money doesn't belong to me. The ones who died in this place, that's their blood money. And the same goes for everything in there now," 456 says, his expression intense, like he's lived through years and years of this torture instead of 6 days. But that's what PTSD is, isn't it? The trauma persists past the actual event.

You frown, crossing your arms. That's a horrible way to think about it. Those people are already dead, aren't they? It's worse to not spend the money, after all that blood was spilled for it.

"What point is there in thinking about it like that?" 001 points out, surprising you again. "After all, it's not like you killed anyone yourself. And that way of thinking won't help bring any of them back to life."

"If you don't use that money, make a better life for yourself, it's a dishonor to their memory," you say quietly. "It's like they died for nothing."

456 stares at you like he's just been slapped. But 001... he looks at you with a hint of approval, and something else. Something like interest... or fascination. "If even one of you two had pressed 'O' like I told you to, we all could've left here alive!" 456 says harshly, a pot boiling over. "You could've saved everybody!"

"True. I was the last player to press 'O,'" 001 says quietly, drawing 456's attention and ire. "It wasn't just me, though. There's 182 other people who wanted to stay here."

"Yeah, and 182 more of them who wanted to get the hell out of this place!" 456 shoots back.

"If I hadn't pressed 'O'… If I'd hit 'X' and we'd all gone home, you think they'd appreciate what I'd done? If one of these people ran into me, years from now, do you think they'd say they were happy I voted to go? That they ended up with a great life after all?" 456 falls silent, watching him like he's remembering something.

Silently, you agree with 001. You're all here because you're in dire straits, and the winnings from the first game wouldn't have been enough to make a dent in most people's debt.

The conversation continues, and when Dae-ho approaches and introduces himself, you lay down on a nearby bed, lost in thought.

Time passes - you're not sure how much, with no clocks or sun to go by. The scenery of the large dormitories isn't appealing, and doesn't have anything you'd normally focus on to remind yourself of the little joys of life, so you resort to people-watching. The mother and her son, in quiet discussion, a small group talking and laughing about nothing in particular, the annoying guy with the purple hair...

You sit up, eyes going wide as you watch him throw a punch at the MG Coin guy. The scuffle goes on, and you get to your feet, having half a mind to step in and tell them to stop being idiots, but then player 001 is approaching them.

"Hey, kids. What makes you think you can behave like that? Especially while people are eating. And in front of your elders too. It's bad manners, not to mention it's two against one. Shame on you guys." Your eyes are glued to 001, the restrained power in his stance. You can't see his face, but you can picture it - that calm, cold expression, the intensity in his eyes. You know there's more to him than meets the eye, but you can't put a finger on it.

"You're in here just like everyone else. So cut the lecture… Grandad. How about instead of yip-yapping at me, you go back home to your own kids, you yell at them?" the purple-haired guy - Thanos, if you remember right - makes a talking hand gesture at 001, and you find yourself holding your breath.

"What did you say?" 001 replies coldly, but there's a hint of fire beneath it.

"I said, save the lecture for your own kids!" Thanos laughs, but is cut off by 001 putting a hand on the nape of his neck. "Hey, get your fuckin--"

He's cut off by a cry of pain as 001 does something with his grip that makes him fall to his knees. You watch as he takes down the two guys like it's nothing, barely breaking a sweat, and a cold chill runs down your spine even as you feel an electric tingle over your skin. Who is he? There it is again, that hint to something more, some large piece of the puzzle of his character that you're missing. It's compelling, but there's also a hint of danger. You make a mental note not to get on his bad side.

Your mind swirls as everything settles down again, and before it's time to turn the lights out, you walk over to 456, sitting down on a step next to him.

"You've really played these games before?" you ask after a moment of silence, glancing at him. You can feel the rift between you two, the 'O' on your chest and the 'X' on his. 456 is quiet for a moment, then nods. "Why would you come back, then? I know you said you didn't want to spend the money... so you don't need more. There must be a reason."

456 sighs. "These games change you. I can't imagine living a normal life, after everything I went through here... I tried. But I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't try to prevent these games from continuing."

It's your turn to fall silent. "Stopping the games doesn't change much, at the end of the day. Some of these people's debts are so bad that they've waived their bodily rights. At least here, they have a chance to try and pay it off, make an honest life for themselves," you say finally, your voice gentle.

456 looks back at you with a complicated expression. "I know. When I joined these games the first time, I'd done the very same thing."

You stare at him, eyes searching his face. There's traces of a happier man in the sorrow with which he holds himself. The smile lines, the crinkles by his eyes. Winning these games only made him miserable. They changed who he was. You can read it, plain as a book, the man he used to be. "Getting rid of these games doesn't change the way the world works. With that kind of money... the money you won, you could actually try to change things in the real world. So nobody would be desperate enough to end up in a place like this." You shrug. "But maybe that's impossible, too. I hope you do, though. Change things. That's a cause I can get behind."

You stare at each other, like you're coming to a quiet understanding. He nods a little, his lips still a permanent frown. You wonder what his smile used to look like, what his laugh sounded like.

You wonder if winning these games would turn you as miserable, as haunted, as he is now. "(Y/N)," you say quietly. He just blinks. "My name. I want to fight by your side. I think... remembering that we're human is an important step."

There's a flicker of something in his expression, and you can almost see the smile that haunts his face, the joy of a more innocent man. He nods softly. "Gi-hun," he replies, his shoulders loosening slightly. It's a start.

"Gi-hun," you reply, smiling at him. "Try to sleep tonight. We'll all need our strength tomorrow."

You leave the sad man to his ghosts and his thoughts, taking a bed on a higher level, feeling safer with some distance between you and the rest of the players. When the lights go out, you curl up under the thin blanket. There's enough people in the dormitory that it's not cold, but you're not exactly warm either. You manage to fall asleep, but it's light, restless, and you wake up after only an hour at most. You stare up at the ceiling, then turn on your side, counting the tiles on the wall. There's black shapes in the tiles that you can't entirely make out, images that are indecipherable with so many beds in the way.

There's the sound of shoes on metal behind you, and you turn on the bed, looking up to see player 001 standing above you. There's something in his eyes, almost like he'd just been... crying? It doesn't make sense, but neither does a lot of things about him.

"001," you say quietly, relaxing the shoulders you hadn't realized were tense. "Can't sleep?"

He hesitates, then takes a seat on the step by your head, clasping his hands. "Haven't tried, yet. I don't sleep well, anyways."

You nod, stretching your legs under the covers, and sit up, facing him. "Yeah. I fell asleep, but it didn't last. My dad always says I got my insomnia from him," you say with a small laugh. It feels weird, to laugh in a place like this, but it comes naturally to you. Trying to lighten the mood, to find little spots of light in the darkness. Fireflies in the night.

001 gives a small smile, a little crinkle of the eyes revealing that it's a genuine one. "Are you close with your father?" he asks, tilting his head. Curious. You hesitate, then shrug.

"Everyone growing up said I looked just like him. I used to have his attitude problem. Still do, sometimes," you say, brushing your hair behind both ears. "I moved here, to South Korea, with him. But... no, I'm not really close with him anymore." And yet, you came here for him - for his debts, to take care of his hospital bills. You'll always love him, despite the fact that his own actions sent you here, to this hell. He should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. You can feel the injustice, the anger that secretly simmers under the surface, but you take a deep breath, smiling at him.

The man just stares at you, his often emotionless eyes studying you, like he wants to pick apart your mind. "And your mother?"

Emotion threatens to overtake you, a lump in your chest forming, and you swallow, looking away. It feels like a lot, to share with this relative stranger. It's been a few years since your mother passed, but it feels like longer. At the same time, it feels like she could call you at any moment. The silence grows, and he finally murmurs, "I see." You stare out at the room, feeling miles away. Relationships with parents is always complicated, and before she passed, it wasn't perfect between you two. But you'd do anything to have her back. "I only ask because... well. You're just so young. You really shouldn't be here."

You bristle, slightly, though you know he's right. "We all have our reasons," you mutter. You can't blame your father, entirely - although, if he hadn't acquired a pile of debt, he would be able to help you keep your student visa.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to strike a nerve," 001 says gently. "I'm worried, that's all."

You huff a breath, hands fidgeting to pop your fingers. "Thank you for your concern, sir, but I chose to be here, didn't I?" The 'O' on both of our chests is evidence of that.

"Young-il," he says after a beat. "You don't have to call me sir. We're all equals here." You finally look back at him, surprised that he offered up his name. Another piece to the puzzle. "I'm surprised you voted to stay. You're American, you probably won't know most of the games."

You smile humorlessly, shaking your head slightly. "They explain the rules for each one, don't they? And... well, I think I only need one more game to have enough. It won't cover everything, but... it'll get me far enough." You try to believe it. You don't know if you have the stomach to play more than one game. "I'm (Y/N). By the way." A sign of peace, a quiet alliance. Just like with Gi-hun earlier, it eases the air between you.

Another moment of quiet, the only sound the quiet breathing and snores of the hundreds of players in the room. "(Y/N)," he says softly, almost to himself. "Well, you have me, too. I'll help you, if there's a confusing one."

You eye him curiously, then smile, a warm, gentle thing. He doesn't take his eyes off of you, smiling back. Like Gi-hun, he looks like someone who hasn't smiled in years, but more like... he's forgotten how. It warms you to him.

"Thank you. Young-il," you say, reaching over to squeeze his arm. He looks taken aback, surprised, but his smile deepens, settling somewhere in his irises.

You take your hand back, fidgeting with the blanket. "So... what do you do for fun? When you're not playing children's games," you say, a hint of humor in your tone as you try to keep the mood light.

It works - he gives a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "Me? I read... enjoy art. I feel like I don't have a lot of fun these days, though," he says, his tone almost contemplative. Like he hadn't even considered fun in a long time. "And what about you?"

You hum softly, fingers dancing in a pattern as they tap the bed beside you. "I like dancing, and music. I read a lot - fiction, mostly. I do enough learning in university." You list off a couple more things, the silly things you do to occupy your day. "If it's a bad day, I usually take a walk in the park. Try to remember the little things that fill the world with joy."

His expression grows warmer, almost soft with each thing you say. "That sounds lovely," he murmurs, his expression almost wistful. He's hard to read, his expression so detached when he's not smiling, but he seems almost open now. Almost. "And dancing, huh? I'll admit, I haven't danced in a long time. I was never any good at it." He gives a wry chuckle, but you grin, eyes twinkling.

"It's better when you're no good at it. Just as long as you don't let yourself get embarrassed. It's good, to move your body, to just feel." You wonder if you'll ever dance again like that - carefree, uncaring about what anyone thought. "I'm surprised, by the way, that you didn't say you take martial arts classes. That move you pulled earlier, with Thanos... it was impressive, skilled." Your tone is nonchalant, but you analyze him for any possible reaction. Wanting to understand him.

He doesn't give one. "I've taken some. For self-defense, mostly. But not really for fun. I know what you mean, about moving your body. That's what fighting was, for me. But it'd be nice to move in a less... restrained way."

It's an almost disarming answer, and it makes something in you soften. You almost offer to dance with him, when you get out of here, but then you remember that he must be a couple decades older than you. You smile though. "You should try it sometime."

You chat for a little longer, but you can feel a weariness settle inside you, now that you're more relaxed. Something about his company is comforting, familiar. It almost makes you forget where you are. It's only when you notice a matching exhaustion in his eyes that you say something.

"You need to get some rest," you say softly.

"So do you," he points out, eyes tracing over your face once before reaching your eyes again. "You only got a little bit."

You hesitate. You do feel tired again, but the moment you're alone, you know that racing thoughts will prevent you from succumbing to your body's needs. "Would you sit with me?" you blurt out, then feel embarrassed. But it's too late to take it back. "Just... until I fall asleep. It's easier, with someone else here."

You have no reason to trust In-ho so quickly. The bonds formed in these games are as concrete as they are breakable, he knows this. He can tell, already, how full of life you are, and he has to fight to keep the thought away - she shouldn't be here. You were right, everyone chose to be here, including you. You voted to stay. But something in him does care, as much as he doesn't want to. And, very quickly, he finds himself wanting to save you, keep you alive. Keep you by his side. Your request only fuels that ember inside him, stoking it, and soon a flame will be coaxed. He has had nothing to want to protect in so long, so many years, and it dismantles him. Makes him feel like the man he once was, the man he's pretending to be.

"Okay," Young-il says quietly, giving her a soft smile, scooting closer to her on the step he's sitting on. You lay down again, on your side, facing him. On impulse you reach out, placing a hand on his wrist. He hesitates, then rests his hand on the bed, letting you curl our hand around his jacketed wrist.

You ignore the strange feeling in your chest, letting your eyes slip shut, relaxing fully for the first time since you got here. "Thank you," you murmur, and you can already feel the fuzz of sleep creeping up on you. His hand slides into your hair, gently massaging your scalp, and it might be the best thing you've ever felt.

It doesn't take long. And this time, your rest is peaceful.