#so curious why they still sell it and how

[chefs-other-corner]

Number 1 Fan

Sense Ao3 is down gotta post my fics some how. So here's Zoey being down bad wc: 812 ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Zoey’s thumbs hovered over her phone screen, the glow illuminating her face in the dark dorm room. Mira and Rumi were both asleep, soft breathing filling the quiet.

Her heart pounded as she typed.

@mirrorumi_slave: I want Mira to step on me so bad 😩 why is she so perfect??

She hit post and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to squeal. She watched the likes tick up.

@mirrorumi_slave: Also Rumi could slam me into a wall and I’d apologize for being in the way 🫠

She wheezed quietly. Her pillow was damp from her tears of secondhand embarrassment.

@mirrorumi_slave: They’re so hot I’d sell my soul just to hear them say good girl once 😫

Zoey rolled onto her back and groaned, stuffing the phone under her blanket.

From the top bunk, Mira stirred. “Zo?”

She froze.

“…You okay?”

Zoey cleared her throat. “Mm-hm. Normal. So normal.”

“’Kay. Night,” Mira mumbled, drifting off again.

Zoey let out a strangled whimper and closed her eyes.

The next morning, Zoey scrolled through her notifications at the kitchen table while Rumi brewed coffee and Mira ate cereal.

@mirrorumi_slave: imagine Mira calling you babygirl I’d actually pass away

She snorted, then choked on it when Mira glanced over.

“You good?”

Zoey slapped the phone face-down. “Yep!”

Mira eyed her suspiciously.

Rumi just grinned. “You’re so weird in the mornings.”

Practice was even worse. They were drilling choreography for hours, Mira barking corrections, Rumi doing aegyo between takes to cheer them up.

Zoey was sweaty and exhausted and borderline feral.

@mirrorumi_slave: Mira yelling at me in practice? Yes ma’am.

She typed it while pretending to check the choreo video.

Rumi bounced over. “Whatcha looking at?”

Zoey shrieked.

Rumi blinked. “Um?”

Zoey hid the screen so fast she almost sprained her wrist. “Nothing. Mind your business.”

Rumi giggled. “You’re so secretive lately.”

Mira’s voice cut in from across the room. “Zoey. Focus.”

Zoey whimpered, cheeks red, and stuffed the phone in her pocket.

Later, in the van, Zoey sat squashed between them, clutching her phone to her chest.

Rumi dozed on her shoulder. Mira scrolled silently next to her.

@mirrorumi_slave: Currently being sat on by Rumi head send prayers. Also Mira is RIGHT HERE she smells so good help.

Zoey typed it with one hand, biting her lip.

@mirrorumi_slave: if Rumi told me to shut up I would bark.

She wheezed.

Mira’s eyes flicked over. “What’s so funny.”

Zoey jumped. “Nothing!”

“Show me.”

“NO.”

Rumi mumbled, still half-asleep. “Zoey’s always laughing at her memes.”

Mira squinted. “It’s memes?”

Zoey nodded way too hard. “YES. MEMES.”

Back at the dorm, Zoey sat on her bed under her blanket, phone screen lighting her face like a campfire.

@mirrorumi_slave: one day they’ll ruin me and I’ll say thank you 😫

@mirrorumi_slave: Mira with those arms? Lift me like I���m nothing please.

@mirrorumi_slave: Rumi’s smile makes me want to be a good girl SO BAD

She posted them all in a flurry, giggling hysterically into her pillow.

Then she heard footsteps.

She froze.

Mira was standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“…What are you doing.”

Zoey shrieked. “Homework!”

“On your phone?”

“Yes!”

Mira raised an eyebrow. “Let me see it.”

Zoey clutched it to her chest. “Nope.”

Rumi peeked over Mira’s shoulder, hair down, eyes sleepy and curious. “Why?”

“Because!”

Mira sighed. “Zoey.”

Zoey’s phone buzzed in her grip.

Notification on the lockscreen.

@mirrorumi_slave: your post “Rumi slam me pls” got 150 likes!

All three of them saw it.

Zoey made a noise like a dying kettle.

Rumi blinked. “...Zoey?”

Zoey hurled the phone across the bed. “IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.”

Mira slowly walked over, picked up the phone.

Zoey dove for it, tackling Mira onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, screaming.

Rumi squealed and tried to help, but they just ended up in a ridiculous pile.

Mira pinned Zoey with one hand and read the screen with a deadpan expression.

“‘Rumi slam me pls’,” she read aloud.

Zoey covered her face with both hands and wailed.

Mira was crying with laughter. “Oh my god Zoey!”

Zoey refused to look at them. “I’m sorry. I’m trash. Burn me.”

Mira’s lip twitched.

“‘Mira’s smile makes me want to be a good girl’,” she continued reading.

Rumi squeaked. Her whole face went red.

“OH MY GOD,” Rumi squealed again, hiding behind her hands.

Mira finally snorted.

Zoey peeked through her fingers. “Please just kill me.”

Mira let out a rare, genuine laugh. “You’re such a perv.”

Zoey let out a broken sob-laugh. “I know.”

Mira peeked over her fingers, still red but smiling. “...That’s kinda cute though.”

Zoey gaped at her.

Rumi shrugged shyly. “Means you really like us, huh?”

Zoey whimpered, nodding.

Mira handed her back the phone.

“Lock the account,” Mira said calmly.

Zoey snatched it like it was a lifeline. “Already on it.”

[artificial-transmutations]

Three days to midsummer: Prologue

A bead of sweat traveled down Jörgen's brow as he carefully looked down the corridor, left and right. He knew he was safe here from the cameras, and the watchman wouldn't make his round for another fifteen minutes, so it was safe to take a quick break and wipe the sweat away. It was a week after the middle of June, and although it was already dark, the summer heat of the day still hung in the corridors of the museum. This was good one hand; everyone was either distracted by the heat, asleep or already in preparation for the upcoming celebration. On the other hand, Jörgen wore tight black clothing from head to toe that damply clung to his body when he moved. Still, it was the ideal opportunity for the heist. The idea to sabotage the AC unit had looked good on paper - and it probably was - to keep the watchman distracted, but it also made his own job harder.

Pulling himself together, he put the ski mask back on - for the off chance he had missed a camera - and stepped into the exhibition room. There it was, the pride of the Stockholm museum for crafts: a pair of silver bracelets forming a complicated, ornate pattern. Valuable enough to sell them for a good amount, but with no historical significance or wider popularity, to cause a lot of trouble afterwards. He stepped forward to the pedestal, took out his glasscutter, and started working on the glass panel. Even though the cameras were off, he still had to be quick about it. As always in his job, the smallest mistake could have dire consequences.

Finally, the glass was cut, with an almost inaudible 'pling', and the treasure was in his grasp. Carefully, he lifted the bracelet and placed it into his pocket. It was a beautiful piece of art, really. Too bad he couldn't keep it for himself.

Suddenly, his professional focus was interrupted by a warm glow on his neck, and he spun around, startled and blinking. Gone was the midnight darkness of the museum, and instead...

Jörgen looked around in utter confusion. He was standing in some kind of garden or park, with flowers and the remnants of some old walls scattered around the place. And it was sunny. This couldn't be! Given, it was close to the summer solstice, and the days were long, but this was high noon sun shining down warmly on him.

"Well. Look at that. How curious."

Jörgen almost jumped at the foreign voice. It was warm and rich like honey, flowing effortlessly in a sing-song melody that belonged to the man behind him. He was tall and muscular, with white hair and an almost perfect body that was only stressed by the thin glittering fabric draped around his hips, accentuating the ample bulge more than hiding it. But that wasn't the most unusual thing about the other guy. Behind his back, flapping idly in the breeze, was a pair of elegant, glittering blue wings. Like a butterfly or...

"It's been in a while since I had visitors. What's your name, mortal?"

"Mortal? What? What the fuck? Where am I? Who are you?!"

The impossible man smirked, uncrossing his arms and walking slowly towards him, licking his lips unnervingly.

"Oh, how rude of you. I like it. Very well. I'm Zephir. Prince Zephir, of the Summer Realm, to be exact. And I believe you," he pointed a finger at Jörgen, and he could have sworn to see colorful light particles dancing around it, "have not only trespassed into my realm, but you also carry something that once belonged to me. Perhaps you have stolen it? Now. Please tell me your name."

A few colorful sparks hit Jörgen's chest and suddenly, he felt his tongue move on its own accord.

"Jör... Jörgen." he muttered. Damn. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't.

"I see... Jörgen."

He didn't like the way the self-proclaimed prince was rolling his name around in his mouth as if tasting it.

"Are you... I mean, are you really a -"

"A fairy?" Zephir sighed theatrically. "Yes. And, as I have mentioned, not just any ordinary fairy, but royalty. But enough of that. Why don't you take out the bracelets you have stolen?"

This time, Jörgen didn't need any magical sparks to compel him, and he took out the silver bracelets, gulping.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know they belonged to you..."

"Oh, I'm sure of that," Zephir interrupted him, "but you were aware they belonged to someone, right? Well, to be quite exact, they don't belong to me either. I gave them to a lover I met so many years ago. It's a melancholic memory. We shared so many wonderful hours, and yet... mortal lives are so... fleeting. It's a tragedy."

Jörgen didn't know how to react. At least the fairy prince didn't seem too... upset?

"I'm sorry. She must have meant a lot to you. Please, you can take them back, as a memento."

Zephir, who had apparently been lost in thoughts looked up, and a rather mischievous smile crept on his face.

"Oh, yes. He was a wonderful lover, but that is history now. You, on the other hand..."

Blue wings idly flapped as Zephir circled around Jörgen.

"You are here now, and I believe you will prove rather... entertaining. Keep them. Better yet, put them on."

When Jörgen didn't react directly, Zephir snapped his fingers impatiently and a small shower of sparks rained onto the man, who quickly slipped the bracelets onto his upper arm, where they fit perfectly.

"Much better. See, we're not so different. You and me, both thieves, in a way. Only while you steal jewelry, I steal hearts. Now, here is my game. You see, in only three days, it's midsummer. And - coincidentally - my birthday. I have enchanted these bracelets so you can't take them off anymore. Over the course of the next three days, they will change you, body and mind, into my perfect birthday gift. A plaything, always ready to provide entertainment, always... horny."

The way he pronounced 'horny' didn't sound good. Jörgen felt a cold shiver run down his back.

"What? No! That's not fair! You can't do that to me!"

Zephir blinked.

"Oh, yes, I can. But you're right, that wouldn't be very fair indeed. So, here is the deal. If you happen to find true love - the man who you can love with all your heart and he loves you - then and only then shall the enchantment be lifted."

This was so absurd, Jörgen had to laugh out.

"What? That's impossible! First of all, I'm not gay. I love women, do you understand? And what the fuck? Three days? That's not possible!"

Zephir chuckled, seemingly amused by his predicament.

"You will have to find a way - or submit to my whims. And as for your preference for women... I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you. In any case. My conditions are clear; the enchantment is sealed. Good luck finding someone who can put up with your... needs. I know I will be watching your struggle with great interest."

With another snap of his fingers, the world turned black again, and Jörgen found himself dreaming.

He was dancing, in a club he recognized, like many times before. But something was different. The dancefloor was crowded, and it was hot and sticky, but when he looked around, he noticed that every single person in the place was male. And they were all moving, gyrating to the music, grinding their half-naked bodies against each other, and against Jörgen, as well! He had never had a dream so intense and for a moment, he wasn't even sure it was a dream at all. He could smell the sweat, he could hear the music, he could see those bulging muscles, those perfect abs and those thick bulges, barely contained behind fabric. To his horror, Jörgen found himself mimicking the movements, grinding his own body against the other guests and...

No! He needed to get out! Now! He pushed his way through the crowd, not without noticing the looks and the whistles he was getting, but he didn't care. He needed to leave, to get out and breathe the cold air. It was just a dream, but his head was spinning and his cock was painfully erect and...

Finally, he found a door and stumbled through, but it only got worse. Behind it was not the saving outside, but a room that was barely lit at all. There were fewer men in here, which was good, but the relief was short-lived. In the darkness, several decidedly male figures were moaning, and moving and...

A pair of hands grabbed his body and pulled him against a wall. Several others joined them, roaming over his chest and his ass and he felt his shirt being torn open and strong fingers entering his pants and...

With a scream, Jörgen woke up, and needed several moments before he realized he was at home, in his bed. His heartbeat slowed as the first light of the morning was pouring into his bedroom. Then, he noticed three things:

First, his bedsheets were tented and wet from his morning wood and a rather intense nocturnal orgasm.

Second, there on his upper arms were the two silver bracelets, glittering innocently in the light of the rising sun.

And third, his body didn't look like it was supposed to. The changes were subtle, but if his eyes didn't play tricks on him, he was just a little more defined, the tent under his sheets slightly bigger, his chest had a bit more hair to it...

Realization dawned on him. The fairy prince, the bracelets, the dream - it had all been real, and he was already changing. Zephir's curse was real. And if he didn't find some imaginary true love in the next three days, that pervert fairy would do God-knows-what with him!

"Fuck!" he muttered.

What was he supposed to do?

I've always wanted to do a poll-style story! Enjoy this 4-parter where you help the fairy prince to spread mayhem by your choices!

[savebylou]

Some items of One Direction sell on the O2 Arena in London (click in each image to see better), [credit: _tpwkells, 30.04.24].

[sunlight-shunlight]

pondering that falon'din is associated with an owl, and those are also messengers of andruil. and he's referred to as "winged death" which is also mentioned to be something that elgar'nan deploys against enemies. and both falon'din and andruil are referred to as venturing into dark places, where no one else can survive/wanted to go.

and ghilan'nain was not initially an evanuris, but was antagonistic towards them and making a bunch of weird creatures. she was given the offer to join them in return for getting rid of the creatures, and accepted. but with "pride stopping her hand" from destroying a few. and when asked about trusting people to share power, solas says "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

solas also has nothing good at all to say about falon'din, mostly calling him a bloodthirsty tyrant who went so far in encroaching onto other evanuris territory that mythal had to besiege his temple and beat him up to stop him.

but he says nothing about dirthamen at all.

dirthamen is described as having gone missing unexpectedly, scaring all his followers, because they were now unprotected. and caught between their own high priest wanting to lock them into the temple forever like a cask of amontillado, and other forces outside that wanted to take their secrets by force. there is one note that a dirthamen follower defied the evanuris and took on a forbidden (probably a dragon) type of form, and was judged by elgar'nan harshly. he apparently also invented the varterral to protect his town from a high dragon? wack, but also could indicate that he had worked with ghilan'nain on making it, since she's the only one who's otherwise mentioned to be bioengineering stuff.

dirthamen has very very few surviving statues or depictions, and is more associated with falon'din than as his own independent figure in the dalish myths. even his own temple includes mosaics of falon'din. there's a few statues that are probably dirthamen, but the most striking is in mythal's section of the fade behind the eluvian, which is a statue of a hooded figure, doubled over with a giant sword sticking out of his back.

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[this-is-tiny-mia]

Sorry, wrong number (H.S. One Shot)

General Masterlist Summary: A wrong-number text leads to an unexpected connection between a you and a stranger. What starts as a playful exchange quickly becomes the highlight of their days, leaving you curious about the man behind the messages. A/n: I don't really know what i'm doing here, i just got inspired and i was bored, i'm clearly not a professional fanfic writer, but i hope at least someone enjoys it. (ALSO ENGLISH IT'S NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO BARE WITH ME WITH GRAMMAR AND STUFF) Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: Not really, use of y/n, maybe slow burn, cliff hanger cause i don't know if it's good enough to continue it.

Friday, January 10th

"Hi! This is Y/N. I already sent the files you asked for last Friday, but I didn’t get any reply. Could you please confirm you received them? Have a nice day!"

…

Tuesday, January 14th

"Hi! This is Y/N again. I know you might be busy, but I just wanted to confirm if the files were okay. We also still have the last payment pending, so whenever you can, it’s fine! Have a nice day!"

Maybe it was too soon to think the client had run off with the files and didn’t want to pay, or maybe he was in trouble? Maybe he got mad that I texted his personal phone number? Anyway, it wasn’t unusual for clients to disappear, but this time, you were really looking forward to that last payment.

Your mom’s birthday was coming up, and you wanted to buy something nice for her for the first time—maybe even outdo your sister and prove you could buy her something special too. You were eager about it but tried to brush it off and focus on other clients who actually responded to emails and texts.

Then, your phone buzzed.

"Hey, I wasn’t going to answer these texts, but I’m pretty sure someone gave you the wrong number. I’m not waiting for files—sorry!"

"That explains a lot," you said to yourself, staring at your phone. Embarrassment crept in as you double-checked the number the client had sent in an earlier email. And there it was—one single digit off from the number you’d been texting. Still, why wasn’t the client answering their email?

Regardless, you had texted the wrong number and even asked for the final payment.

"Oh my god, I’m really, really sorry! I just double-checked, and yes, I made a mistake with the number. Again, I’m so sorry to bother you."

"It’s fine! Hope you find the real client and get your payment."

You facepalmed in your office and chuckled at yourself. It was embarrassing to think about the stranger receiving your out-of-context texts. Maybe they were busy too, and you’d just interrupted their day. Or maybe you were overthinking it.

After searching for that email again, you dialed the correct number carefully, double-checking each digit. Then you sent another message:

"Hi! This is Y/N. I already sent the files last week, but I didn’t get any reply. Could you please confirm you received them? Have a nice day!"

Minutes later, the client responded. He apologized for falling behind on things, said he’d been busy, but confirmed he had received the files and planned to make the payment the next day.

Thank God.

You were always busy—navigating the challenges of freelancing and the whole "being your own boss" thing. Sometimes it meant being not just the social media marketer but also the accountant, admin team, planner, and much more.

"Everything alright?" Gwen asked, chuckling as she glanced at you. "You look a little stressed."

"It’s been a couple of stressful days," you replied. "But I’ll survive. You know I always do," you added with a smile.

Gwen was the fashion designer you shared the downtown office with. She was more experienced than you and ran her signature shop below the office, filled with beautiful, unique pieces. Thankfully, she was always a helping hand when you got stuck with an Excel sheet or needed advice on balancing work and life.

The next day was more of the same. Mid-month meant analyzing how the brands were doing—were they selling? Were they stagnant? Was there a new trend going viral? Or an upcoming holiday to leverage?

Your phone buzzed, interrupting your focus.

"I hope this isn’t weird, but did you get the right number? Or the payment? It felt like I was left on a cliffhanger."

You smiled at the text from the stranger who had received your initial messages.

"Not weird at all! I’d be curious too. And yes, I got the right number, and I think he’s paying me today!"

"Well, I’m glad! I wasn’t going to sleep without knowing how it ended."

"I’ll update you as soon as the payment comes through! lol."

Maybe it was odd to have a conversation with a stranger, but they didn’t even know who you were, so what did it matter?

"Please do. 🙏🏻"

You thought of that viral story about the grandma who accidentally texted a stranger and ended up inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner. But in your boring life, nothing like that could ever happen. You weren’t particularly chatty or extroverted in real life, but since they didn’t know who you were, what was the harm?

——-

"Update: The payment came in!!"

"Thank God! I’m happy for you, and it’s not even my money."

"Well, thank you for answering. Otherwise, I’d still be texting you about my lost payment."

"My pleasure. Is it okay if I ask what your job is? I’m curious—it’s my first time being a wrong number!"

"Is it weird to be texting a stranger who randomly asks about my job?" you asked Gwen, showing her the texts.

"What does that even mean?" she asked, confused.

"Have a look at this," you said, sliding your phone over. Gwen read the texts and smirked.

"He doesn’t even know who you are. He knows your name, but how many Y/Ns are there in London?" she said, trying to calm your overdramatic thoughts. "Or you could make up a funny, dramatic life and have fun for a few days—tell him you work in a strip club!"

You laughed softly but were tempted by the idea of harmless fun. What real danger could come from simple texts? He was the one who started asking questions, after all.

"I’m a digital marketing specialist."

"Sounds cool. I could never."

"What do you do, then?" you asked boldly.

"I own a small brand."

He technically wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t the full truth either. Maybe it was too soon to reveal his real identity. If he even had contemplated that.

"'I own a small brand?' That’s it?" you muttered to yourself. Your life wasn’t that boring after all—or maybe it was, compared to his.

Recently, you've been haunted by questions about your career. Did you even love marketing? No. Did you know what you wanted to do? No.

Your phone buzzed again, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"My name is Harry, by the way. Seems fair to tell you since I know yours."

"Nice to meet you, Harry."

You smiled at your phone, a soft, involuntary expression that you quickly brushed off. It wasn’t like you were getting attached or anything; it was just amusing. A stranger texting you was definitely the most interesting thing to happen that week. But after that, it went quiet. The conversation stopped, and you figured it was just one of those random, fleeting interactions life throws at you. Something to laugh about later with friends.

Two days later, though, your phone buzzed again. You assumed it was your mom or a group chat notification—certainly not Harry

“How did the week end for you? Any other wrong numbers?”

You blinked at the screen, taken by surprise but also oddly pleased.

“It ended pretty busy, but thank God it’s over. And no, no more wrong numbers, lol.”

“So, any weekend plans?”

How was it that this stranger, Harry, was better at keeping a conversation going than any guy you'd actually dated? It felt natural, like he genuinely wanted to talk to you, and for once, you didn’t feel like retreating into vague one-word answers.

“Nope, a bit of a boring life here. You?”

“Yeah, same.”

Okay, that was definitely a lie.

Your life was painfully average. You worked to pay rent, paid rent to keep a roof over your head, and that was it. Sure, there were good days and bad ones, clients who made you want to tear your hair out, and others who gave you glowing feedback that kept you going. But lately, when anyone asked, “What’s new?” or “What have you been up to?” your mind went blank. The truth felt too dull to say out loud.

Your love life? Also on pause. You’d had a long-term boyfriend once, but when his ambitions veered wildly away from your own, it fell apart. You didn’t hold any hard feelings, but dating apps weren’t exactly your thing, either. Deep down, you clung to the hope that someone would randomly appear in your life, the way they do in rom-coms—chocolates, flowers, and all. But you’d stopped expecting it a long time ago.

So why was a stranger, with nothing more than a name and a few texts, suddenly the most exciting part of your week? Maybe it was the mystery. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because it made you feel like you’d stepped out of your routine.

“Is it weird that I just kept on texting you? I feel like it is,” he texted again.

“A bit, but I’m enjoying it so far. It’s kind of fun, actually.”

“Ok, thank God we’re both weirdos, then. Are you based in London?”

And just like that, the fun felt like it came to a halt. He was asking for your location now. Sure, London was massive—1,572 km² of sprawling city—but your anxiety immediately perked up. Was this crossing a line? Did he want to track you down or something?

But then, the little mischievous devil on your shoulder chimed in. Relax, it’s harmless fun. It’s not like you two are actually going to meet, or like he’s going to know your exact address just because you said you lived in London.

The devil wins.

“Yes, I’m in London. You?”

Your turn, Harry man, you thought. And then, as if on cue, your brain jumped onto a rollercoaster of wild thoughts. Wait, what if he’s a 50-year-old? Or worse—a 15-year-old hormonal teen?! You shook your head. No, no, he’s a brand owner, you reminded yourself.

Was this fear of the unknown creeping in? Or... was it just pure curiosity?

“Yes, around Notting Hill.”

You stared at your phone, a bit shocked. Did he really just tell you his neighborhood? Was this man never taught about the dangers of sharing personal details with strangers?

Says the girl who keeps answering his texts.

“Cool,” you panic-texted back, immediately cringing at how abrupt it sounded.

A second later, another message from him popped up:

“You don’t have to tell me your neighborhood. I know it’s probably TMI. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

You blinked at the screen. 

Wait, was he apologizing? For oversharing?

“It’s fine, but be careful, I might be a stalker. You never know 😉”

An emoji? Oh my god, did I just use an emoji? 

You internally cringed, debating whether deleting the message was still an option. But his reply came quickly:

“I’m used to that.”

You stared at your phone, baffled. What? What does that even mean? Was he used to stalking people? Or being stalked? That didn’t even make sense. Had you missed some new meme or slang? Or was he just trying to sound cocky and mysterious? Either way, your brain was now racing, trying to decode mystery Harry man.

Harry, on the other hand, was staring at his phone, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over him. Shit, did that just give away who I am? He tried to reassure himself. Maybe not. It could pass as just a random response... right? But the doubt crept back in. Then again, if it’s just a random response, does that make me seem really weird? Ugh, why didn’t I think before typing? He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he waited for your reply, wondering if he’d managed to keep things casual—or accidentally made it more suspicious but as you never did he quickly types another thing

“Hey, can you help me with something?”

You stared at the message, your eyebrows furrowing. Whatever this is turning into, it’s really, REALLY weird, you thought. But at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a bit thankful that he’d brushed off the whole stalking comment. Now he wanted help?

“I’m about to launch a new collection next month, and I need to choose four nail polish colors for a kit. Which ones would you pick?”

He sent a picture of a color sample sheet, words scribbled around it like, “Too bright?” “Love this one,” and “OUT.” The paper rested on a dark wood table, and you couldn’t help but notice his right hand in the frame, his nails painted in a sleek shade.

A man wearing nail polish? you thought, biting back a grin. What’s sexier than a guy with zero fragile masculinity?

STOP. Sexier? Seriously?

STOP. He’s a stranger.

“I would go with, the coral one at the top, the navy, the nude and the green” 

“That’s literally what I was thinking. If they sell out it’s on you y/n” 

“So I’ll be expecting a good commission then” 

“Deal and thanks, by the way. For actually helping. I wasn’t sure you’d reply to that one.”

“No worries, it’s kind of nice having someone randomly text me about nail polish drama. Way better than client emails. Didn’t thought your business was about nail polishes though”

“Glad to be of service. Let me know if you ever need a second opinion on, I dunno, which shade of PowerPoint gray to use.”

“My saviour”

“That 's me. A true giver. Anyway, I’ll stop bothering you for now. But seriously, thanks again, Y/N.”

“No problem. Good luck with the collection!”

The conversation ends with more questions than answers about Harry—nail polishes? Why is this conversation flowing so effortlessly? It left you curious but not uneasy. Both of you felt like this wasn’t the last time you’d talk. It was a small, unexpected connection, one that neither of you was quite ready to let go of.

—-

Your mom’s birthday went on as planned. You were able to buy her a beautiful scarf from one of her favorite brands—pricey, yes, but it was your mom, so you didn’t mind splurging. And if you happened to overdo your sister this time? Well, that wasn’t the point, not entirely. But deep down, it felt good to prove to yourself that you could keep up, even if her success with her law firm always felt like a shadow hanging over you.

It had been five days since you and Harry last texted. It felt... normal. No stomach-wrecking nerves like the ones you got when talking to guys you were interested in. No overanalyzing if you’d been annoying, rude, or too eager. With Harry, it was different. Maybe it was because he was still mostly a stranger. Maybe because you weren’t trying to impress him. Or maybe because you knew deep down that, even if he didn’t reply again, it wouldn’t sting. At least for now.

After a few days of sporadic texting, Harry throws out an idea, the text that changed everything.

“Okay, hear me out: since we both don’t want to seem like stalkers, how about a deal? We get to ask one random question a day. Nothing creepy or too revealing. Just normal stuff. What do you think?”

You smirked at the screen. He’s trying to make it less weird? Bold of him to assume this isn’t already weird.

“Alright, but you go first”

“Fine. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

“Somewhere coastal. Like Brighton, maybe? I need the sea to remind me I’m alive.”

“Interesting choice. I’d go somewhere quiet, but still close to a city. Like, Italy?”

You paused for a second, feeling a little silly. He chose a whole other country, and you’d barely ventured two and a half hours away from London. Still, it was a start.

The daily questions continued, evolving from a simple game into something that felt more like a natural rhythm. Each question peeled back another layer of this stranger you were beginning to know better, even without ever seeing his face. You learned that Harry loved tea but hated coffee—how do you even function?—and that his favorite season was autumn. He found out you adored thunderstorms and had an irrational fear of elevators, thanks to a terrifying incident years ago when an elevator you were in nearly dropped two floors.

It wasn’t just the questions, though. There were moments in between: a blurry photo of an office corner from Harry, captioned, “My life in chaos”; a street view of Downtown that you sent, carefully avoiding any landmarks near your home. Then there was the fluffy golden retriever he’d spotted on his way to work—he couldn’t resist sharing it with you.

Before bed each night, you’d find yourself thinking for at least twenty minutes, trying to decide what to ask next. The game didn’t feel like a game anymore. It was something else, something steady and comforting. For now, there was no pressure to meet or cross any lines—just two strangers finding small joys in their shared curiosity. But now it felt refreshing and even exciting whenever his or your question popped up on the phone. 

It was a rare Sunday sunny afternoon in London, and you found yourself strolling down the street. The shops buzzed with life, tourists snapping photos, and locals hurrying along with their errands. You were looking forward to reach that particularly small ice cream shop you loved. That’s when you saw it—a storefront with sleek, funky decor and the words Pleasing printed elegantly across the window. You slowed your pace, curiosity pulling you closer. The display was stunning: a lineup of nail polishes in perfectly curated colors. Coral. Navy. Nude. Green.

Your heart skipped a beat.

No. It couldn’t be. This is just a coincidence.

You even felt silly for considering it. But for a moment, you just stood there, staring at the bottles neatly arranged under soft, flattering light. Your mind raced back to that conversation. Harry when he had asked for your opinion on nail polish colors. Coral, navy, nude, and green. The same exact shades in the window now.

It HAD to be a coincidence.

“Pleasing is huge…Harry is a huge pop star too” you thought to yourself, folding your arms as if to shield your thoughts from prying eyes. “There’s no way. It’s not like that Harry would just randomly text someone asking for nail polish advice. Or just to play a silly game of questions everyday”

But the seed of doubt was planted. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking your trance. For a split second, you expected to see a message from him. But it was just a group chat notification—nothing exciting. You took a deep breath, willing your mind to behave. “Stop being ridiculous” you tought  “He was probably just some regular guy with the same first name, with the same kind of business. Nothing more.”

Still, as you walked away from the shop, the memory of his texts lingered, trailing behind you like the shadow of a question you couldn’t quite answer. Was it possible? Could he have been the Harry all along? The thought was outrageous, yet your heart raced with the tiniest flicker of hope—or was it just pure curiosity? You slipped your phone out of your pocket, scrolling back through weeks of messages. One by one, you opened the pictures he had sent, your eyes scanning every corner, every detail, hoping for something—a slip-up, a clue, anything to confirm or dismiss the wild idea.

There was the photo of the nail polish color samples, laid out on a dark wooden table. You zoomed in on the edge of the frame. The faintest reflection of something metallic—jewelry? A ring? You’d noticed his hand before, polished nails and all, but now you studied it with new intent.

Then, there was the picture of a cat, curled up on a plush couch. The background caught your attention this time: the kind of sleek, minimalist decor that wouldn’t look out of place in a magazine. It could belong to anyone, really…but why did it suddenly seem so…familiar? Your finger hovered over the screen as you stared at his name in your contacts: Harry. Just Harry.

And yet, the thought wouldn’t leave you alone. You zoomed in on one last photo—the corner of his shoe peeking into the frame of a sunset he’d sent you. White Sambas. Completely ordinary. But the tiniest voice in the back of your mind whispered, or maybe not.

You locked your phone and shoved it back into your pocket, your cheeks burning as if someone had caught you red-handed in your amateur sleuthing. “Get a grip,” you thought. “Even if it was him, he’d never admit it. And honestly, why would he have time to text a stranger?”

Still, the idea danced at the edge of your thoughts, impossible to ignore. As you walked away from the Pleasing shop, a small, secret smile tugged at your lips. Even if it was crazy, the idea was kind of…fun.

The easy back-and-forth continued for days, it was like a month by now, his messages feeling less like texts from a stranger and more like snippets of a conversation with someone familiar. You felt lighter, laughing more often, and somehow the world didn’t seem quite as dull as it did a few weeks ago.

Then, one night, came a new question:

“If you could pick one place to meet a stranger for the first time, where would it be?”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Is this what I think it is?

Your heart jumped as you stared at the screen, the words blurring for a second. You thought for a moment, carefully choosing your response before typing: “A café. Casual, safe, easy to leave if they’re weird. Full of people, maybe near a police station if they’re a serial killer. You?”

His response came quicker than you expected.

“But if you could pick an estimated time to meet a stranger, how long would you wait to feel comfortable with it?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Nice try, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Tulip 🌷.”

Oh no. That wasn’t your stomach growling in hunger; those were butterflies. Actual, undeniable butterflies. Was it even possible to feel something for someone you had no idea what they looked like? What if he was totally different in person, the opposite of this charming, thoughtful guy behind the texts?

Harry had started calling you Tulip after you’d mentioned they were your favorite flowers, and somehow, it stuck. Now, every time he used it, it made you smile like a fool.

Maybe his question was just a throwaway comment, harmless banter before he said goodnight. Or... maybe it wasn’t.

----

One Friday morning, you found yourself buried in work at a café you liked to visit when you needed a break from your desk. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of quiet chatter helped you focus on a new project.You were mid-email when your phone buzzed. 

“Today’s question: what’s your go-to coffee order?”

You smiled, grabbed your cup, and snapped a quick picture to attach to your reply. “An iced latte with oat milk. Drinking one right now.”

“Is that a café?”

“Yeah, it didn't feel like an office day today.”

Moments later, your phone buzzed again, and your stomach dropped.

“…I think I see you.”

Your heart stuttered. Wait. What? Your eyes flicked around the café with a mixture of curiosity and panic. Students were typing away on laptops, a few professionals were deep in email mode, and a couple laughed over their pastries at the next table. Everything seemed normal—except now you felt like you were being watched. You straightened in your seat, pretending to be calm while your mind raced. Another buzz.

“I don’t mean to freak you out, but… blue sweater, iced latte, corner seat by the window?”

Your stomach did a flip. That was definitely you. The serial killer theories came roaring back in your brain.

“Okay, very funny. That was just a lucky guess, wasn’t it?” You hit send, not sure if you wanted him to be joking or if you secretly hoped he was serious.

“No joke. I swear.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you set the phone down. You scanned the room more carefully now, eyes darting from one face to another. Was it the guy with the newspaper in the corner? The barista behind the counter? And then, you saw him.

A man near the door, half-hidden behind sunglasses and a black baseball cap, a scarf loosely wrapped around his neck, holding a cup. He was leaning casually against the wall, phone in hand.

Holy fucking shit. No. No way. Your brain scrambled for logic. This was just a dream, right? Some random coincidence. But your phone buzzed again, yanking you back into reality.

“Disappointed?”

Your breath hitched. He’d sent the text just as you watched him tap his phone. And when your screen lit up, he glanced up—right at you.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

It was him. Harry. Your Harry. and Everyone's Harry Styles.

PART 2!!

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[semperamans]

part three of loverboy!oscar is here! get ready for chaos! also!! i deeply apologize for how long it took to get this posted :'(

if you missed part two you can find it here! if you read and enjoy please let me know what you think! your comments keep my days oh so bright! hope you all are well!

xo, clo

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pias_lover_girl commented "what other things oscarpiastri my STOMACH HURTS."

mclaren commented "bring us home a souviner 🥹 we accept refridgerator magnets, snowglobes, and t-shirts."

↳ landonorris replied "i only accept signed CDs 🙂"

↳ pitstop_piastri replied "oh this was CRAZY LANDO SJFHSKDF"

ynsgirly commented "oscarpiastri what are your intentions with my daughter 🤨"

oscarsfearless89 commented "he is just a little boy in a big ole city i-"

tracksidebabe commented "the little smile after he said "other things planned" 🥺 hope he has the best time."

mclarendad72 commented "love this for him honestly, nothing like your first trip to new york city."

f1fanfiles commented "he looks like he’s actually excited for once lol bless"

futureyn_piastri commented "ik he won't be listening to that Shawn Mendes podcast..."

↳ ynforpresident replied "babygirl NO ONE is gonna listen to that."

liked by yourname_source, sc4rlett_44, bestofyn, oscarpiastri, morningwithyn, and others

yn_nation our girl was spotted out and about today! mayas_yn snapped these pics of our cutie gal outside of Bubby's Bakery on Hudson :') maya said yn was picking up some baked goods: a cake for an upcoming birthday and some cupcakes for her nieces who will be visiting her in the next few days :)

thank you for sharing, maya! 💌

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bubbysbarista i served her this morning and she gave me and my coworkers $300 tips 😭😭

↳ sundaywithyn NOT HER OUT HERE CHANGING LIVES BEFORE NOON

↳ ynlover95 she's so sweet :( she's soft spoken :( her pockets deep as hell :( yn save me :(

↳ sc4rlett_44 ugh ☹️ it’s little moments like this that remind me why i’ve been a fan for so long.

piastrigirlies not to be That Person but… any chance she was with someone mayas_yn 👁️👁️

↳ mayas_yn she was alone :)

afterglowing81 honestly just happy to see her out and about, smiling and living her life — not hiding out or spiraling over shawn or any of that mess. growth looks really good on her 🤍

herefordrama i personally think she's just trying to save face and show up randomly doing good deed so we won't watch the Shawn podcast episode lol

↳ f1xynlore girl she bought baked goods for her nieces�� not exactly a strategic media move 😭

↳ starryeyesandbutterflies did you activley seek out a yn fan account to leave a hate comment? YOU HAVE SO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS I- FSHDFJKSDHF

↳ girlshush every time she breathes y’all get suspicious. therapy is calling. pick up.

↳ ynsdefense “doing good deeds” is wild behavior to accuse someone of. sorry she’s a decent human i guess?

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yourusername uploaded a story!

love4yn replied "your nieces are about to get the most emotionally regulated love known to man."

landoe04 replied “can’t wait to see uncle oscar in the next story 😇”

angelicyn replied "i volunteer to be one of your nieces thx"

shawnmendes replied "this made me smile."

papayapressure replied “we get it. you’re soft. you’re sweet. you’re just like us 🙄”

newintown replied "do the nieces know their aunt could sell out Madison Square Garden but is taking them hiking instead??"

shedoesntgohere replied “this gives ‘please think i’m a good person’ energy.”

yourbrother replied "still laughing at Cleo telling me that i don't get the vibe."

ynsgirl222 replied “just curious… are the kids the only ones you’re babysitting this week 👀”

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later...

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shawnmendes uploaded a story!

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liked by hattie_piastri, oscarpiastri, sophie_matteson, mia.reinhart, yourbestfriend, and others

edie_pia kicked off my second decade with cake, watching noodle fall in love with my big brother, expensive dinners (thank u mclaren for writing his checks), and the best vibes. feeling loved, slightly over-caffeinated, and ready to take on my twenties 🧁

view all 2,421 comments

liv.rothman “thank u mclaren for writing his checks” IM CRYINGGGG

hattie_piastri love you so big, baby sister.

kayla.beech ugh i forgot to text you this morning but HAPPY BIRTHDAY you angel 😭🎉

f1butunwell happy birthday, Edie! We love your brother!

mclarenmeg wait this is oscar’s sister?? omg slay happy bday queen

↳ edie_pia no idk who that is sorry

↳ oscarpiastri same

mum.piastri My darling girl, I can hardly believe you're 20! It feels like just yesterday I was holding you in my arms, and yet my gray hairs might tell a different story... (They’re really piling up now!). Love you oodles and oodles. 💖

mclaren happy birthday, edie! 🎈

oscarpiastri happy birthday, ed. thanks for showing me how to jaywalk.

↳ edie_pia you still don't do it properly...? you apologize every single time 😒

↳ mum.pastri ... What? 🥲

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edie_pia uploaded a story!

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oscarandthegirlies replied "he is NOT back emotionally 💀 look at that GROUCHY FACE yn come get your man."

sector2slump replied "bro said good to be home like he’s trying to convince himself 😭"

ynpapayapress replied "i KNOW a man in emotional limbo when i see one"

markonmediums replied "my daughter said he’s giving abandoned golden retriever energy and i don't know what that means but i hope he chins up. good kid."

piastrisf1wife replied "he looks like someone just told him it’s media day for the third time in one week."

racedaybabe replied "jet lag hitting different huh"

lockuplads replied "he's so polite but you can tell he'd rather be anywhere else"

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liked by sydney_sweeney, rinasonline, chloebailey, phoebebridgers. oscarpiastri, yourbrother, and others

yourusername hello lovers! i was on double-duty this week - auntie yn x tour guide and i adored every minute of it. this was the first time my girls have visited me in the city and suffice to say, they loved it :') we chased down ice cream trucks, rode the carousel until our eyes were cross, bought way too many flowers (kidding, of course, you can never have too many), we made some new friends, ate pizza slices bigger than our heads, and had very serious discussions about what bubble wand color is superior (pink, of course).

these are the kinds of days i want to keep close. bare-faced and barefoot in central park. loud giggles and sticky fingers on sunlit sidewalks. big big smiles on two little faces :) the city feels like magic, again. thankful to these cuties for reminding me of that ♡

p.s. pls refer to the duck chart 🦆

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mclaren we'd like to formally offer you a position on our media team, the vibes are immaculate.

↳ yourusername only if my nieces can come too. they’re very invested in tire strategy now.

↳ yourbrother they are five and three - what about ME?! HELLO? LIFELONG F1 FAN?

↳ yourusername 🤔 mclaren... did you guys hear anything?

↳ mclaren 🙉

↳ ynbaby IM SCREAMING mclaren GIVE HIM A JOB. HE IS THE REASON WE ARE HERE.

futureyn_piastri no oscar pics? i know Lando is going to be disappointed :(

↳ landonorris real

piastri_panic ... duck chart?

↳ imwithnorris no i was about to say what the FUCK IS SHE TALKING ABOUT 😭

dramaqueen01 girl wrap it UP with this soft girl narrative we are tired

↳ oscpresso says the one who came on yn's page to start shit? okay lol

dualipa the hold you have on me is not normal

↳ yourusername text meeeee

orangehearted not to be fucking insane but that is the HAND of a MAN in slide two...

↳ pitstoppiastri 👀

↳ f1butunwell you guys are so fucking weird i hate it here

maggierogers so glad joy found you again 💕

ynupdates this whole post is giving indie movie directed by greta gerwig

piastrisbaby ngl kinda wish oscar was in this dump too 😭

↳ not_lando lets be real, he probably took half these pics

ynsunrise how do i audition to be your niece. i’m 27 and emotionally unavailable but i can love to bake, know every single one of your songs, and like f1

↳ yourusername i'll have my people contact yours

oscarpiastri 🦆

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landonorris uploaded a story!

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[featherspiral]

why Asriel? I mean I really like Asriel too, I am just curious on why you personally like him so much.

I dano ur gonna have to ask 10 yr old me on this one

yeah idk man essentially I just think if the very experience of playing this game and it's major themes were translated into a character study he is the ultimate subject <- (this is why hes my fav but this is also now my thesis for the derailed rambles below)

(this is about to be VERY nonsensical and all over the place)

no but for real. I actually kind of find it difficult to put into words just whyyy it is I like my favorite character (at any given time) so much... it definetly helps a lot that I have that nostalgia from 9 years ago but if I were to play undertale for the very first time today he'd absolutely still be my favorite. I think he's pretty much one of (if not) the best video game villains ever, particularily because his story could not work and exist in other media forms. at least to nowhere NEAR the impact.

obviously you hear a lot about how he acts as a mirror to you as the player, which yes holy peak. my god perfectly done. but the part that REALLYY sells his character to me, and my favorite aspect of this, is how the game essentially baits you into falling down the exact same path he did (and probably even faster than he did) by just.. promising more. its a short game, not so short you don't have to be invested, but not long enough for you to actually feel totally and fully satisfied with just one playthrough.

undertale is completely designed for replayability- it reads you up and down and fully anticipates that you WILL play this more than once. assuming the route of the average blind player is neutral -> pacifist -> genocide, if you were receptive to the game and, in a sense, played along and took this world and the characters seriously, neutral will probably leave you with much to be desired. it let's you get attached to these characters, but ends so unsatisfyingly. makes you wonder what would happen if you chose differently, especially with flowey (the little guy of the hour) coming in and goading you on to a pacifist ending (which you also learn later that this is part of his oh so evil scheme to keep you around forever). and if your receptiveness let you actually find yourself caring about the ending these characters get, you WILL replay the game to see it through and get the good ending.

ultimately in the pacifist ending toby fox decides to spend a solid 20 minutes making you feel really sorry for asriel, only for him to then be the only character you cannot truly give a good ending. and usually, most people (ive seen) are just shocked at how emotional this little game made them feel and how much they realized they cared about these little guys. and even though you did all that to get the good, preferable ending, you boot up the game again because you dont really want to let those emotions you just felt go. and flowey is there to ask you NOT to do it, because, isn't this what you just fought to stop him from doing?? and it's something he no longer wants- he's stopped seeing chara as the only possible vehicle to his own (self defined) redemption, and hes divorced that projection of the "perfect friend" from frisk, choosing instead to see them as not only their own person, but someone else he needs to let go.

your inability to let this world (that you've expressly chosen to take seriously) carry on in its most desirable ending is what will eventually lead you to try and milk all the possible content out of it, to the point of killing everyone you possibly can just to see what will happen. obviously that's wording it pretty dramatically (i literally replay geno all the time for funsies and i like to fight sans LOL) but I'm just trying to ham up the point that this is practically BAR FOR BAR what flowey says as he recounts how he came to be so bored and apathetic.

it was your own love for the game that made it stop feeling "real" to you, as the more you replay the game, the more dialogue you skip through, the less you truly engage with it. it's kind of an endless cycle of ever diminishing returns to try and replicate how it once felt. (does this sound awfully familiar to that little guy still is this sounding like that guy to anyone else)

I also think he's just kind of funny he's such an edgy little 10 year old man. everything flowey says and does is so irrevocably tied to who he is and the relationships he had and the fact that when he died he was a little kid being influenced by the most emo human to ever step foot on mt ebott LOL. also I feel like when people look at my page they'd probably instantly assume I think "asriel > flowey" but that quite literally means nothing to me that is a chai tea moment like I know everybody has their own interpretations but for me personally i feel that flowey cannot exist as his own character without acknowledging that he's asriel and how that constantly affects everything about him (as hes pretty much his own foil on purpose) and asriel without flowey is just not so much an interesting character to me.. I just think (and again!! everyone has their own interpretations!!!) (ik people like 2 argue ab this) that the most (personally!!!) compelling way to read him is as one singular, linear person. because like thats what he is. he didn't come back as a flower and immediately hop on that murder sauce, the game just intentionally simultaneously shows you both the very beginning and the tail end of his villain arc without you even realizing you are seeing two ends of the same person's life. I'm losing track I think hahao

yeah anyway I like him ibguess I dunno

[munsonsmixtapes]

The First One's Always Free

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You go over to Eddie's to buy some weed after not seeing each other since high school. Old feelings arise and after smoking a joint together, you find yourselves tangled up in his sheets.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader and Eddie smoke a joint

You stand on the porch of Eddie’s trailer. You’re a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth on the little piece of wood you’re standing on, looking at your bike every time it comes into view. Why are you even there? It’s not like you’re going to buy. You have the money in your pocket but that doesn’t mean that you’re not scared. You’ve bought weed before, but never from someone you’ve been crushing on. 

You hesitantly bring your hand up to knock and feel your hands shaking as you do so. You’re not so sure why you’re so nervous. Eddie is sweet. And really, the only reason you're here is because you have a little (massive) crush on him. He’s so different from what everyone says he is. He’s always been so kind to you, even going as far as inviting you to sit with him and his friends at lunch when you were in school. 

But you haven’t seen him since high school so you’re not sure if he even sells anymore. You don’t even know why you’re still thinking about him since he probably forgot you even existed. That would make sense since you weren’t popular and only sat at his table a few times. 

The door opens and the man on the other side of the door gasps at the sight of you. You take the time to take in how each of you have changed. Eddie’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’s now sporting a full beard and a nose ring. He’s aged like a fine wine and you can’t stop looking at him. 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” he smiles, opening the door wider to invite you in. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since graduation.” He closes the door to the trailer, still in disbelief that you’re standing in his living room. His dream girl. 

Eddie has been crushing on you since the first day you flashed that bright smile at him. Right then and there, he knew that he was going to fall in love with you. And he did. When you set your copy of the Lord of the Rings on the lunch table he just knew that you were perfect for each other. He wanted to ask you out, but back then, he was Eddie “the freak” Munson and didn’t think he had a shot. He’s hoping that maybe now he does. 

“So, what are you doing here?” His tone is more curious than anything. He just wants to know why the prettiest girl in Hawkins is in his trailer. And you somehow got even prettier since the last time he saw you. 

“Well, I don’t know if you’re still dealing, but I was wanting to buy.”

“Of course I still deal,” he scoffs. “Please. Come on and I’ll show you.” He nods his head towards his room and you hesitantly follow, still feeling shy as you do so.

You watch him go through his belongings in a quick manner. He eventually finds what he needs, a metal lunchbox that he rifles through, on the hunt for the joints he rolled earlier. He was planning on smoking them himself, but you’re a special customer, so he feels like you deserve them. Once he finds them, he sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. 

You hesitantly sit on the bed, your thighs now touching because of your close proximity. You go to reach for the cash in your pocket, but he rests his hand on top of yours, shaking his head in response.

“First one’s always free,” he winks as he puts the bag into your hand, his fingertips brushing your palm. The two of you have never been this close before, your seats in the cafeteria preventing you from doing so. But now that you are, you can finally see just how pretty his brown eyes are. They’re even prettier than you remember. 

“Oh, you don’t-”

“Just let me do something nice for you, alright?” He nudges your shoulder. “Think of it as a reunion gift.” Even if you had bought from him before, he’d still give it to you for free because he would feel bad for charging you. 

“But I didn’t get anything.” You’re still as cute as he can remember and he just knows that you feel bad for not actually getting him anything. You’re so sweet that he swears that you’re going to give him a toothache.

“Then smoke this with me and we’ll call it even.” Oh, there’s no way you’re going to deny him. Especially not when he’s looking at you with those damn Bambi eyes. At this point, you’re sure that you’ll do anything he asks.

“Deal,” you nod and watch Eddie pull one of the joints from the bag. He hands it over to you and you part your lips, silently asking him to put it into your mouth for you. He catches on quickly and brings the joint to your lips, pushing the tip into your mouth and as your lips wrap around it, he wonders what they would look like wrapped around his-

“You got a light?” You ask, interrupting his train of thought. 

“Y-yeah,” he responds and rushes over to his desk and grabs one of the many he’s got in his drawer before hurrying back. He lights up the joint and when you inhale then pull it from your lips to blow out the smoke, he swears that he’s in love. You look so hot and he doesn’t know why he can’t just make a move. 

“Open,” you instruct and he does as you say as you put the joint between his lips, passing it off to him, your fingers brushing as he does so. You immediately wonder what his rough fingers would feel like inside you. You don’t know if it’s because of how attracted to him you still are or if it’s because you haven’t slept with anyone in a while and you’re just desperate. 

The tension changes between the two of you, getting even more intense and sexual as the joint gets smaller. You’re now lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as you talk about everything and nothing. But really, all you want right now is for him to have you in any way he wants. You want him to take you right here and just go to town. 

But he won’t. You know he won’t because he’s nothing but a gentleman. At this point, though, you’ll take what you can get even if it is just a kiss. You just need something from him so badly but you’re too afraid to ask. You haven’t seen him in two years. How crazy is it going to seem if you ask him for a kiss?

You have no idea that Eddie wants the same. He wants you so badly that he’s trying so hard to hide his cock from you. He’s embarrassed by how hard he is because all he can think about is all the positions he wants to have you in. 

He doesn’t know what he's doing, but as soon as the joint is finished as he disposes of it, he takes the chances and hovers over you, his pupils blown wide, a mixture of both how high he is and also how much he wants you. 

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs looking down at you with that adorable smirk. His hand reaches up and his thumb slowly glides across your lips, his eyes watching them part as he does so. He dips it inside and your lips wrap around it, giving it a suck, a gasp falling from his own lips as he watches. 

“Fuck,” he whines and you’re so wet now that you can feel it soaking your panties. You need him and you need him now. But you’re going to let this play out as long as you can, your eyes on his as you continue to suck on his thumb. 

He’s losing his mind over it as he replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, watching you lick them, purposely making just the right noises to make him hard beyond belief. 

Once he can’t take it anymore, he removes them as his mouth covers yours as he places himself on top of you. Your hands wind into his hair, giving it a tug that juxtaposes how gently and chaste the kiss is, your lips moving together slowly. 

It’s awkward as you try to figure it out but you do quickly as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you open up, letting him inside. His hands slide underneath your shirt, rubbing up and down your waist slowly as your tongues move together. 

He pushes your shirt up and it’s off and tosses to the side. Eddie leans up so he can get a good look at you. You suddenly feel self conscious since you didn’t wear one of your more sexy bras. But you didn’t know that this would happen. 

Eddie’s eyes rake over your body and with him, you feel nothing but safe. You haven’t seen him in years but it’s like your bond is still there, that you’re still as close as you used to be. If only you had stayed in the state for college and hadn’t lost his information. You’re sure that that is your only regret.

He doesn’t seem to have any hard feelings, though as he looks like he wants to absolutely devour you. You’re taking off his shirt as he’s unzipping your skirt, pulling it down your waist as his shirt is discarded. He’s kissing down your waist as your skirt is thrown to the floor, whispering the sweetest word against your skin. 

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs against the spot right above the waistband of your panties. He loops his thumbs through it then pulls them down, letting them fall to the floor before he spreads your legs wide to see what he’s working with. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re really soaked for me, aren’t you?”

“I need you so bad,” you reply with a whine and his pants are off in a second, his underwear following closely behind, his cock coming into view. You’ve always dreamed about this exact moment, but now that it’s here, you’re almost convinced that you’re dreaming. Maybe that’s because you’re high. 

“Relax, babe,” he laughs. “I’m right here.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before lining himself up with you, slowly inserting just the tip. It already hurts because of your inactivity but you don’t dare ask him to stop. You think he’s gonna go further when he pauses. 

“Fuck, I didn’t even ask if you’re on birth control or anything.” He’s panicking now and you want to do anything you can to get him to calm down. You appreciate that he’s being so sweet and caring and hate that he’s working himself up like this. 

“It’s alright,” You place your hands on top of his that are resting on your waist. You force him to look you in the eyes, giving him a smile that eventually helps him relax. “I am on birth control. And if you don’t want to use a condom, that’s fine.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you let out a laugh. “Now please fuck me before I just do it myself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods and adjusts his grip on your waist as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, trying to find a good rhythm. You’re responding just the way he wants you to, moaning when it feels good, bucking your hips against his. 

His nails are digging into your skin as he goes harder, your moans and whines getting even louder as your toes curl in pleasure. Your nails are scratching down his back as he picks up the pace even more, pounding into you over and over again as your pretty sounds fill his ears. This is the best sex he’s ever had and he knows that’s not just because he’s high. 

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he says as his lips find yours again. It’s rough and messy as he’s still thrusting, but he’s just so desperate to have your mouth in his again. You moan into his mouth and he pulls away to let out a moan of his own. “You just feel so good, baby. We just should do this again when the high wears off.”

“I second that,” you breathe. “And again and again.”

“Until the morning and then I'll go to work and when I come back, we’ll do it again.”

“Sounds good to-” your words are cut off by an orgasm, your back arches as you scream out his name, Eddie talking you through the entire thing. 

He keeps going and you’re bucking your hips against his, trying your best to get him there. He’s close, you can see it as he throws his head back. He pulls out quickly, cum leaking out onto your stomach as he’s reaching his own climax. 

Once he’s come down from it, he stands from the bed and grabs hold of your hands, leading you to his bathroom where you two take a much needed shower that’s filled with kisses, washing each other’s bodies, which doesn’t last long before you’re at it again, totally unable to keep your hands off of each other. You then spend the rest of the night and early in the morning getting all tangled up in Eddie’s sheets, deciding that two years really was too long to be apart.

[thinkinonsense]

VELVET ELVIS ❤︎

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fluff! domesticity! soft!logan pregnancy

author's note: this was inspired by the kacey musgraves song! just wanted to write some fluff :)

masterlist

divider credit: @/roseraris

within these cabin walls, time stood still. logan liked his life and the time machine he's built himself. you and him live in a 60's dream home.

during the weekdays, logan went to work at the lumberyard while you stayed at home and worked on your paintings. when the two of you moved in together years ago, logan got you to agree to quit your job and prioritize your talents since he could do triple the amount of work for a normal man, money would never be an issue.

on saturday's, the two of you would go into town and you would bring your art pieces to a shop downtown for them to sell. whatever money you made, you put back towards the supplies you needed because logan covered everything else.

"well, don't 'cha look like a dream" logan compliments as he watches you get ready in the mirror.

"thank you, sugar." you smile as he leans down to kiss your temple then down to your cheek.

"prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen." he mutters against your skin. "is this new?"

both your eyes fall to the satin powder blue slip dress that adorned your frame. he loved how it looked with your pretty white mary jane boots and the small bump blooming underneath the soft material of your dress.

"yeah, picked it up earlier this week." you reply, removing the curlers in your hair and teasing the hair pieces up high.

"love it." logan says, nibbling at your earlobe.

"logan..." you giggle, lightly shoving him away. "go get dressed so we can leave."

"yes, ma'am."

reluctantly, logan gets up and grabs the nice outfit you put together for him earlier. a fresh pair of denim jeans, a white shirt, and his brown leather jacket. as an anniversary present one year, you got logan a silver star-shaped belt buckle that matched the necklace he got for your birthday when you two first met. in the mirror, you watched him put it on.

"whatcha thinkin' about over there, sweetheart?" he smirks, looking up to find your eyes.

"dippin' you in honey."

"dirty. i like it."

"not like that, perv." you giggle. "just wanna be stuck to you forever."

"that's sweet," he says, walking over, bending down, and gently grabbing your chin to kiss you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

once the two of you make it inside the tiny shop, logan brings in your painting while you greet the older ladies who own the building. all of them fawn over logan and your round tummy; telling you how lucky you are. something you never let yourself forget.

"you'll never believe what we picked up at the gala last weekend." one of the grey-haired women tells you.

"what did you two find?" you asked, always curious to their treasures.

"the hell kinda painting is this?" logan asks, looking sideways at one of the paintings on the wall.

the sight makes you laugh. no matter how long you two have been together, logan still struggles to see some of the beauty that you do in certain art pieces.

"i think the handsome lumberjack found it." the other lady winked as they guide you over to where logan stood. hanging upon the wall sat a velvet elvis painting.

"oh my!" you gasp.

ever since you were a little girl, you adored the painting that some would call 'tacky'.

"you like that, sweets?" he questions but you ignore it, stepping closer, running a finger along the golden frame.

"my grandma used to have one in her living room, it was her most prized possession –well, next to my grandpa."

behind you, logan could see the couple smiling to each other. too busy amazed by the painting to notice anything else around you.

“what a lucky find!” you marvel, turning around to face them.

“which is why we want you to have it.” one of them says while the other takes it down from the wall.

in shock, you shake your head insisting that you couldn’t allow them to give it away. they insist on you two taking it home, telling you to hang it somewhere nice. logan wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the painting in the home but he knew you adored it so he would never say a word out loud.

on the way home that night, you raved about the piece. logan loved hearing you talk about the things you were passionate about. he could listen to you explain color theory for hours. his own personal, prettier version of bob ross. when he brought in the painting, you told him exactly where you wanted to hang it in the living room.

“right there, baby.” you instruct him. “be careful.”

the man couldn’t be hurt if he tried but he found your warning cute. once it was hung up, you both step back to admire it. the art work did at least match the aesthetic of the house, logan could admit.

“i mean, its no mona lisa but i don’t mind it.” logan says, pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

“you know, i don’t really care for the mona lisa.” you admit with a shrug.

“really?”

“mhm, don’t like that everyone fawns over it. i want character, creativity, and something unique."

"hm.." he hums, swaying you gently.

"this painting reminds me of you." your voice meek and muffled against his shirt.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at you.

you nod. "i want something no one else has and something no one else will ever understand the way that i do. you're my favorite work of art, lo."

"i'm only a work of art because you carved and molded me with your beautiful mind." he says, trying to allow a tear to fall down his face.

logan couldn't believe the life he'd been gifted after all the shit he's dealt with in his lifetime. he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve you. your kindness, your warmth, your talent, your body that carries the only other human he will ever love as much as you. he would never be able to repay you for this little life and slice of peace that you've gifted him.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 2 forever teen Danny adopts post-JJ Tim. Tim accepts he has a new dad.

[Pt 1: here][pt3: here]

Tim has known Danny a month, and he can say it has had a positive effect on his life. He's super understanding and accepting of all Tim's weird quirks. And when he ran away back to the Bats (which was a train wreck. B and Dick seemed relieved for 2 seconds, then tried to throw him in Arkham. Between him not selling out "Phantom" and still having JJ traits, they found him unacceptable.), Danny let him go, understanding, before accepting Tim back as easy as breathing when he came crawling back. He helps Tim break into Drake Manor directly after, revealing the invisibility and intangibility Tim thought he hallucinated to get clothes, toiletries, his phone (there's 20 missed calls, 5 are Dick, 2 are Bruce, 2 are Barbara, 1 is his parents, and the rest are his school.), his photographs, camera, and the card linked to the allowance his parents send every 2 weeks. Tim took the last thing because he doesn't want Danny to suffer for taking him in and help with expenses, Danny frowns before giving him a lecture about that not being Tim's responsibility when he finds out. Tim still buys groceries and gets them both new laptops when Danny isn't looking.

Danny modifies any electronics to be untraceable, showing Tim the whole process, so that Tim can contact his school with a fake doctor's note, a fake kidnapping story (some thugs heard what Joker tried to do with Robin and tried their own hand at it. Harley squawked about the JJ thing and how a new meta called Phantom killed Mista J, so it's all over the news. (A fake police report magically appears in the GCPD)), and how Tim won't be able to physically be at school for a while and if they could please send his schoolwork over. Tim holds off on contacting his parents, curious to see if they notice anything, and can't find it in himself to be disappointed that they don't (not even when they stopped by the manor a few days ago, they texted him exactly 1 time to scold him about the lack of food in Drake Manor).

When Tim's physical injuries are mostly healed, Danny moves them from the shitty 1 bedroom apartment to an equally shitty 2 bedroom apartment, still in Crime Alley. Tim feels slightly guilty about Danny refusing to let him sleep anywhere other than the bed, taking the floor or couch before he moves a second bed into the new apartment. Tim isn't sure what to do with the level of care Danny showers him with, but he loves it.

Danny, while disapproving and disliking Tim wanting to continue being a vigilante, doesn't actually stop him (something about being a hypocrite if he says no?). Tim designs a new costume since he can't be Robin, and Danny helps create it! Tim isn't sure how Danny got the nearly indestructible materials that need specialized cutting and sewing materials, but it's awesome!

The costume's base is black. Black cargo pants, an armored turtleneck, black domino mask. But he decides that since he unfortunately can't get rid of all his JJ traits (the laughing fits, the scars, his hair is growing green??, the (bipolar depressive/) manic episodes, etc.) and the Bats won't accept him anyways, so why not lean in. Over the black base, he adds a gothic tailcoat vest. It's very dark purple with bright Kelly green lapels and buttons. The lenses on his mask and his combat boots are the same shade of green. He feels like the green ties his new vigilante look to Danny's ghost form. He also finds the whole fit awesome and a giant fuck you to both Papa J and the Bats.

This does lead to his current dilemma. He needs a new name before he debuts his new vigilante identity.

"I refuse to be Joker Junior!" Tim huffs at Danny, who's calmly making dinner.

"Like I've said before, then don't be."

"But what should I call myself? I can't use a bird or bat name either. I've never had to think of a name for if I was an independent before!" Tim flops on the floor. The kitchen and frontroom is basically one room, so Danny can still see him being dramatic without Tim getting underfoot.

"Name yourself a ghostly name."

"Huh?" Tim sits up to look at the slightly blushing man trapped in a child's body.

"I mean, you're already connected to my ghost form, since everyone is going to connect you to your old vigilante identity, so why not pick something ghostly or supernatural." Danny turns to do something Tim can't see, but Tim knows he's just trying to hide how embarrassed he is about sharing the suggestion. "You don't have to. You could pick something more personal, like Shutterbug or Mania or something."

"Huh... That would work. It'd really rub in the Bats' faces that they basically killed 2 Robins." Tim mutters before twisting himself into a pretzel. "Any suggestions?"

"Depends. What do you want people to get from your name? And what annoyed do you want people who know both your IDs to be? Phantom was a literal pun off my lastname."

"How is Phantom a pun off of Kronokori?"

"Kronokori is Jazz's last name, mine's Kronoyios."

"Huh??"

"And those are our lastnames because Clockwork, or I guess Kronos, adopted us. Our original lastname was Fenton."

"You got adopted by a god?"

"Basically, yeah. Don't worry about it. It's probably one of the least weird things to happen during that time, but that's for a different time. What do you want from your name?"

"Uhhh..." Tim takes a moment to really think about it. "It should be something loud and chaotic, but not necessarily good or evil? I don't really care if it would make people eye roll or groan if I share my ID. Maybe something that is angry? I definitely feel angry."

"As you should." Danny affirms and thinks a second. "Wraith? It's a vengeful spirit seen shortly before or after death."

"Mmm... No."

"Sprite? It's a-"

"No way!" Tim pauses and thinks on his violent reaction. "... Sorry.. It just feels childish and like I'm a 2 dimensional game sprite. Not something that can grow with me or demand respect."

"It's fine, Tim." Danny flashes a reassuring smile. "How about Bashee? They scream to warn someone death is near."

"Aren't they all women?"

"Not necessarily. Kinda like selkies, there's more myth about the women, but there's men too." Danny starts plating the food he made. "Apparition? They're closer to an after imagine of the dead."

"But are they loud?"

"Not usually...hmmmm" Danny hands Tim his plate while scrunching his face in thought. "Let's see, Dullahan, Kelpie, Sphinx, Shade- Oh! Oh! I know! Poltergeist! They're loud, chaotic, usually malicious, they bite and scratch and slam things! It also doesn't sound childish, so you can keep it for as long as you need."

Tim munches on his dinner while thinking it over. "I think that would work. Hehe! A Poltergeist under the care of a Phantom."

Danny smiles, "Glad to help, kiddo."

Tim sets his mostly empty plate down and launches himself at Danny. Danny used to the behavior, quickly gets his own plate out of the way and catches him in a hug.

"Thank you, Danny." His tone indicates he's thanking him for more than just the name.

"No problem." Danny kisses the top of Tim's head. They stay like that for a moment before Tim pushes himself up.

"I think I should talk to your sister." He grabs his plate and sits near Danny on the couch. "I don't want someone to trigger me with a dumb comment or something."

"I'll tell her tonight." Danny says, "She's been wanting to meet you. Mostly because she wants to know her new nephew, but also because she likes to psychoanalize hero types. She finds us fascinating, but is still usually chill about it. Unlike when we were teens."

"What happened when you were teens?" Tim asks curiously.

"So Jazz has always wanted to be a therapist, and unfortunately, that means she knew a lot on the topic, but had none of the tact in implementing the knowledge." Danny looks absolutely fond. "She'd corner me to try and force me to talk about my feelings. "You can't keep it all bottled up, Danny." "You're hurting yourself and others by not talking." It was very annoying for an angsty teen to hear. She was right, but her methods needed work. And she's definitely put in the work since then."

"Any chance she's going to be anything like Harley?"

"Not a chance. She hates clowns and isn't one for jokes that aren't well thought out. You have to be really clever to even get a chuckle at a pun." Danny explains, taking their empty plates to wash them. "She isn't opposed to dark humor, but only if she knows the reason for it and knows it's not your only coping skill."

"So you got in trouble with her a lot, didn't you?" Tim teases, knowing Danny still uses dark humor as his main coping mechanism.

"All the time, but I started listening to her advice when I was.. 30? 32? Somewhere in my early 30s." Danny admits. "I got really tired of wanting to die all the time. And her advice has definitely helped minimize the want, unfortunately, mental illness doesn't truly go away."

Tim thinks about that. He knows you can't cure the types of mental illness he has, and Danny has been very open about his own issues, but he can't help his disappointment.

"Hey, on the plus side," Danny speaks up as if sensing Tim's thoughts, sometimes Tim is positive the man can. The man isn't facing him currently, so it's definitely not because Tim was making a face or something. "You're legally a person, so Jazz can get you meds. At least for your bipolar. I know you've been struggling with the whiplash between your extreme emotions."

"That's good..." Tim stares at the back of Danny's head. "You're not legally a person?"

"Nah. In the eyes of the government, I'm dead. It's why I've been hiding out in Gotham. The government has no place here, and as much as I hate the guy, Bats keeps the people hunting me down away." Danny pauses. "You know, I wonder if they think I faded? I haven't made an appearance in nearly 20 years. Then again, Harley snitched to everyone in existence, so I might have to start dodging ghost hunters again. At least the Anti-Ecto Control Acts got repealed, so I won't be taken to a secret government lab to be experimented on again. Shout out to Amity Parkers for clawing their way into office."

"The dad lore of your life is extensive." Tim jokes.

Danny chuckles. "Being a lab accident made ghost child vigilante with a portal to the infinite realms in his basement and ghost hunter parents and the government after you and the other ghosts visiting your town will do that. You'll have your own out of pocket stories to tell your kids one day, well, if you want kids. Otherwise, shocking friends is just as fun. Just imagine telling someone about the last 2 months. "Yeah, hi! My name's Tim! I was the 3rd Robin because a furry couldn't get his act together and then the Joker kidnapped me and I got adopted by the dead guy who showed up and killed him!""

Tim giggles. "I don't sound like that!"

"Maybe, maybe not, but it's still something you could say." Danny grins at him, drying his hands. "Do you need any help with your homework?"

"Yeah, there's a chemistry problem I don't understand-"

Tim loves living with Danny. It's everything a Tim pre-Batman would daydream about. Just a dad taking interest in his life and interests and taking care of him.

[fhrlclln]

underneath | qimir

SUMMARY -> ever since you found him and he trained you, he had always concealed his identity to you for his unknown reasons. you were always curious what he looks like underneath the cortosis helm he wears. though, this time the curiosity in you would be sated at last when a particular sparring session turns into an unexpected lesson in trust.

qimir x acolyte!fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> mild nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, sexual tension, mild violence, master/pupil dynamic & smut is at the end : P

WC -> 2.82k

a/n: surprise! another qimir fic cuz i can’t get him out of my head.

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

"have you ever wondered what he looks like underneath that mask?"

you asked your fellow pupil, mae, one day out of the blue. the particular reason for asking that question had always been because of your undying curiosity for the years you started to train under him.

your masked master.

"i don't." mae would answer, saying that she doesn't care what he would look like underneath the mask. saying that as long as he trains her, his identity doesn't matter to her. you understood her with that, she was his acolyte first and it probably dawned upon you that the years of concealing his identity to her she had thrown away the curiosity of what their master looked like.

but on the other hand, you, you somehow couldn't stop wondering.

you had found him or- he had found you when you were escaping your slave captors after your own sister had betrayed you in selling you to them. you were angry, in rage and unaware of the dormant power that had awoken in you with that rage you had felt. and in your fit of rage, you had managed to slaughter two of the captors chasing you, leaving you feeling guilty for your horrendous actions. you decided to escape and flee the planet. that is until by some chance, you had come across the masked stranger in the middle of the night who had told you about the gift you possessed, telling that you shouldn't be ashamed you used it in your self-defense.

and that's when he had took you under his wing, training you as his pupil.

he had taught you what your gift was, what your power is. he trained you, taught you and for the most part, despite him putting this distance between you and mae, he had helped you. and maybe that’s why you’re so curious to know who he is really, you wanted to see the master who had graciously accepted you despite you knowing your connection with the force was not as strong as mae’s.

he was… well, you could not really put a strong opinion on what kind of a man your master was. for the most part, he was always away and in training sessions, he was closed-off and distant. but when he spars with you and mae, that’s when a hint of his personality is peeking through.

rough, aggressive, strict. the way he spared with you had left you with tired sore knees and bruised arms when defending. on the offensive attacks you made he was quick to dodge and maneuver himself with your predictable attacks. he was ruthless in his combat but there was still that fluidity in it. but you knew he still held back with you despite the aggressiveness. you wished he had put more effort in your sparring sessions just like mae’s but you knew he was focusing more on her since she was at the brink of completing her lessons.

“safe travels, mae.” you wish her luck as she nods at you. the master had given her final lesson- to kill a jedi without a weapon. you were proud of your fellow acolyte but it did upset you how much you were falling behind. the waves splash in the background as you watch her walk to her ship. you wave her off as you saw it fly out the cloudy atmosphere then jumped into hyperspace, on the course to euda.

the sea breeze helps you gather your thoughts, and you wonder if the master would train you further today. seeing that mae had to learn this lesson by herself. sensing him, you feel the pull of the force as you turn around to see your master standing a few feet away from you.

the scene makes you remember that night when you found him. for a moment it did frighten you to see him loom over you when you fell to your knees from running. you were injured then and you had momentarily thought he was one of the slave traders that was trying to capture you. it took you a while to get used to him being like this when he appears out of the blue. well, for a random person, it would seem frightening to see a masked stranger dressed in black robes suddenly appear in mid-air. plus the saber tucked in his belt.

“master.” you greet him, anticipation lingering inside you.

“we shall continue your training today, my acolyte.” his modulated voice says. you feel your chest swell with excitement as you nodded. “be prepared.”

“of course, master.” you bowed slightly as he walks off to where the sparring lessons usually are. you smiled to yourself, maybe this time he’d finally put more effort in your training as you walk with a slight spring in your steps.

・゜゜・．

“focus.”

he says as your feet scraped against the rocks at his force push. you huff, your chest heaving, your leather tunic is starting to stick on your glistening sweaty skin, making you feel uncomfortable. you sigh, frustrated how you were not landing a single blow on him. your mind was elsewhere, seeming that you are still focused on wondering what he looks like underneath that mask.

“use that frustration. focus on your emotions.” he commands and you composed yourself, swatting the questions of his unknown face in your head. you ready yourself in a fighting stance, body facing to the side while you wave your arm in front of you. you clenched your fist for a moment as you heed into his words and attack. you use the force to heighten your leap towards him as you land a blow but he dodges again. an uppercut, he doges, a kick you do he dodges again. you feel yourself get even more irritated but in ease that he was finally not holding back when he blocks one of your blows with his arm.

but still, you were still not fighting the way he has to expect you to fight.

“you are too trustful in me, acolyte.” he scolds you, the modulated tone ringing. he backs away from you as you stopped, confused. yes, you indeed trust him, why was it a bad thing?

“i beg your pardon, master?” your breaths are labored and somehow from the close distance, you could hear him sigh underneath the mask.

“you are too trustful.” he says again. “do not trust me that i will not kill you even if i am training you. trust in yourself. we cannot continue this lesson if you do not learn to do that.” a chill runs through your spine at his words. there’s a slight pang of hurt in those words of his that were true. yes, he could kill you. why wouldn’t he if you failed him? you seem to stiffen at his words as he reminds you again, this time he will take the offensive attack.

“trust is a fragile thing. you cannot trust anyone but yourself, my acolyte. even if the person has sworn to trust you, they would eventually betray you. but yourself? you cannot betray yourself.” he explains as you nodded at his words. “when since you had put your whole trust in someone and they betrayed you in the end?”

you look at him, rage starting to boil in you when you remembered your own sister’s betrayal. your chest tightens and your mind is enraged with it. the pain she had put you in, the survival you had to do, the running you had to tire and the people you had to kill just to be free-

“there it is.” he says, proud. feeling your ever glowing rage.

“now, focus.” he suddenly attacks you as you dodged swiftly. both of you move in a tandem, as if it were a dance. the painful realization that even your master, the one who saved you and took you in, would eventually might betray you as well. the rage in you is at its boiling point as you let out a guttural scream when he almost aims for your neck. you push him back with your force then surging to him with heat in your steps as you attacked. he blocks your powerful blow with two of his arms forming an x. you kick him immediately on the stomach and he lurches, caught off guard.

you were too in to your emotions as you attacked and attacked. he tries to doge and block your every hit but he eventually succumbs to your rage when you finally kicked him to the ground. before he could stand, you immediately come on top of him, preventing that. you fist the collar of his robe, clenched hand in the air ready to land a final punch-

“excellent, my acolyte.” he cuts you off as you suddenly blink back into your rational self. you let go of his collar and you let yourself relax but ultimately surprised how close you are to him. you’re on top of him, your legs caging his waist and he seems not to dismiss you to get off. you can see clearly his helmet now, it was full of marks of previous battles. you take your time to admire him beneath you, how his adam’s apple bob and the sheen of sweat covering his bare muscular arms that were bulging with veins.

you blush, realizing you were staring at your master with ill thoughts.

but… the curiosity of what he looks like underneath it makes you wonder. your hand slowly comes up to his helmet and you feel him watch you with every move you make. he observes silently and you hovered your hand above his masked face. but you snap out of it again, realizing you could have offended him. and he could kill you for this. you know he takes great lengths to conceal his identity.

“a-apologies, master, i-“ before you could retract your hand and get off him. his hand suddenly grips your wrist. your eyes widened as he sits up and you adjust, hovering above his lap. he tilts his head to the side inquisitively, as if he was amused to see your curiosity be revealed. you stay quiet, staring at his masked face, waiting for his words. your cheeks are hot and you feel the anticipation grow in you. he places your hand on the side of his mask, the way he brushes your fingers softly makes you feel wobbly now.

“go on.” he merely says. you stutter, not knowing what to say. did he just agreed for you to remove his mask? your thoughts are jumbled but you succumb to your curiosity. you put both of your hands to both sides of his masked face. you slowly remove it inch by inch whilst you stared at the peaking facial features you have longed imagined what he looked like. you remove the helm completely and your heart skips a beat.

your eyes meet with a strangely beautiful dark ones.

his black hair is disheveled, his skin is smooth and his jawline is handsomely well chiseled. your eyes roam his face and it settles to his pink lips. you feel a hum of arousal between your legs when you look into his eyes again. his face is so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath tingle your lips. you put his helmet down to your side as the other brushes the black locks of his concealing his face. his pupils grow dark, your lips are inches to his and you somehow feel in-trance to lock it with yours.

this, this is the face of your master.

he’s beautiful. you think as you let out a noise when his other hand brush against your thigh. the other gently grips your hand that brushed his hair. you wondered why he had hidden his beautiful face from you and mae.

“master…” you plead as he smirks and it makes you blush.

“you did good today.” his low voice with a rasp of approval instead of the modulated one made your stomach churn and your thighs clench. the way his lips are still hovering above yours makes your head dizzy with the anticipation of what he’s doing. his top lip brushes against yours and he leans forward but before you could feel his soft lips lock with yours, you pull back. this is wrong.

“apologies, master.” you place your hands on his chest as you pulled yourself up to your feet. he seems taken aback for a moment with your rejection but composes himself as he eyes you up with a dark glint in his eyes.

“curiosity is normal. don’t be embarrassed.” he chuckles and that rings through your ears. the way he acts now is dissimilar to when he has his mask on and it baffles you how human he now is. you don’t know what to say, fearing that you have failed him in almost every way. you watch him stand up then grabbed his helmet and he looks at you. something in his gaze shines with hunger.

“we’ll continue our lesson another time.” he walks pass you and the brush of his arm against yours makes your heart jump.

“yes, master.” the initial shock of the situation still hasn’t faded when he’s out of your sight. you gulp, sweat dripping down your forehead. was he not upset that you know his face now? would he kill you for it later perhaps? those questions hang in the air. your heart still beats remembering his lips close to yours. you turn back, walking back to the shore, there’s a feeling you can’t seem to place as you let your thoughts linger on your master’s revealed face.

・゜゜・．

you dry your face with a rag then pulled a fresh tunic and bottoms from your pile of fresh clean robes. the dimness of the light inside your room in the cave made it comforting for your wild thoughts. you put on the brown tight bottoms then the grey tunic. but those thoughts soon come alive when you felt a presence near the entrance of your room.

you turn around swiftly, seeing your master standing right by the concave opening of your room. no mask on but just wearing… perfectly normal clothing. he dawned a white tunic and usual black bottoms, his hair is slicked back, damp from his bath you presumed. you stand awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. you were used to his mysterious persona.

“you did exceptionally well today.” he begins with a praise. “but, i am surprised how focused you are on knowing what i look like.”

“thank you.” you merely say, eyes shying away when he points out your curiosity. “i apologize for that, master.”

“don’t be.” he steps forward and each step he takes has an anticipation behind them. you stay in your place, taking in how comforting he looks. “i’m glad for your curiosity.” he confesses.

“you are?” you are surprised with that.

qimir nods, adoring the way you seemed so surprised. he had his reasons for concealing his identity to you and mae. it was for to create a distance between the master and pupil. he feared attachment might overcome why he took you under his wing. he knows you already saw him as a person who finally cared for you and in truth, he does. you are a gifted woman with the force and over the years despite the distance he placed, you managed to crawl into his cold heart.

“but i fear your curiosity isn’t sated enough.” he points out and the atmosphere in the room changes. you know what he means. when you had almost kissed him but you hesitated, fearing that things might change drastically after that. he was your master after all. he steps closer to you, the distance is just like the one moments ago.

“am i right?” he asks when you stare at his lips. you wondered if mae would be enraged for what you are about to do as your body moved at its own accord.

you surge forward and lock your lips with his.

and that ends up with you sprawled underneath him. your curiosity is sated and he rewards you more with a thrust of his hips with his cock inside you. you clench around him, your hands caressing the width of his broad back. here you are, your naked body pressed against his as you moan in his ear. he groans, suckling the soft flesh of your neck.

“master…” you sigh, legs wrapped around tight on his waist. his hands are holding your thighs in place as he thrusts his cock into your warm heat. he locks eyes with your heavy one and it makes him soar at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he smirks as he kisses you hotly as he grinds his hips down.

your curiosity indeed was successfully sated by him.

[ghstyles]

$5 | Windows Facing

The Sigma boys host a kissing booth

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Main Masterlist

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The crisp autumn air carries the sound of music and laughter across campus as Y/N and her roommate Maya make their way back to their dorm after their afternoon classes. Fallen leaves crunch beneath their boots, and Y/N clutches her psychology textbook to her chest, discussing their upcoming midterms.

"I still don't understand why Professor Jenkins expects us to memorize all forty defense mechanisms," Y/N sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, rationalization and intellectualization are practically the same thing."

Maya, with her dark red hair and perpetually amused expression, nudges Y/N with her elbow. "That's such a rationalization."

"See? You're proving my point," Y/N laughs, adjusting her scarf against the October chill.

As they round the corner onto Greek Row, they're met with an unusual sight: a line of girls, at least twenty deep, snaking from the front porch of Sigma house onto the sidewalk. Above the doorway hangs a large, crudely painted banner that reads "SIGMA KISSING BOOTH - $5 - ALL PROCEEDS TO CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL."

“You’ve got to be kidding me" Y/N mutters, slowing her pace to observe the spectacle.

Maya's face lights up with recognition. "Oh! Louis mentioned they were doing a fundraiser today. Didn't realize it would be so...popular."

"Of course it's popular," Y/N says, rolling her eyes. "They're literally selling the opportunity to kiss frat boys. It's like a petri dish of bad decisions and mononucleosis."

Despite her disdain, she can't help but notice the booth set up on the porch. It's decorated with red and pink streamers, and behind it sits Niall, collecting money with an enthusiasm that suggests he's enjoying this charitable endeavor immensely. Beside the booth is a whiteboard listing the "kissers" on rotation:

HARRY 1-2 PM

ZAYN 2-3 PM

LOUIS 3-4 PM

LIAM 4-5 PM

NIALL 5-6 PM

A note at the bottom reads: "Limited time only! Get 'em while they're hot!"

"We should stop by," Maya suggests with a mischievous grin, checking her watch. "It's almost 3 – Louis is about to start his shift."

"Absolutely not," Y/N says firmly, trying to steer her roommate away from the commotion. "You've already been 'kissing' Louis for free for weeks. Why would you pay for it now?"

Maya shrugs. "It's for charity. Plus, I'm curious how he kisses other girls compared to me."

"That's...a concerning level of curiosity," Y/N remarks, but Maya is already dragging her toward the line.

"Come on! It'll be fun. You could kiss Harry," Maya teases, knowing full well about the antagonistic relationship that had developed between Y/N and Harry 

"I would rather kiss a toilet seat," Y/N retorts, but allows herself to be pulled along, if only to humor her roommate. "Besides, according to that board, Harry's shift is over."

"Pity," Maya says with exaggerated disappointment. "I've heard he's the best kisser in the house."

"From who?" Y/N asks before she can stop herself.

"Everyone," Maya gestures widely to the line of girls. "I bet his line was the longest"

As they approach, they can see the current proceedings. Zayn is seated on a stool, looking impossibly handsome and slightly bored as he gives a quick peck to a giggling sophomore. Behind him, leaning against the porch railing and drinking from a water bottle, is Harry, evidently finished with his shift.

He spots Y/N immediately, his eyes lighting up with that familiar mischievous glint that always precedes him saying something that will irritate her. He pushes off from the railing and makes his way over, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Well, well, well," he drawls, his British accent more pronounced as it always seems to be when he's trying to be charming. "If it isn't psychology girl. Come to make a charitable donation?"

Y/N gives him a saccharine smile. "Just escorting Maya. I prefer my charitable acts to not involve potential communicable diseases."

Harry clutches his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know my lips are pristine. Certified disease-free."

"By whom? The CDC or just your own inflated ego?" she counters.

Harry grins, dimples appearing in full force. "Want to find out for yourself? I could make an exception and extend my shift."

"Hard pass," Y/N says, though she feels an annoying flutter in her stomach at his suggestion. "Besides, I don't have five dollars to waste."

"For you, I'd make it free," he says, leaning closer. "Consider it a scholarship for the academically gifted but romantically challenged."

Before Y/N can formulate a suitably cutting response, Louis emerges from the house, checking his watch.

"Time's up, Zayn!" he calls, then spots Maya in line and breaks into a wide smile. "Well, hello there, Red. Come to support the cause?"

Maya waves, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Just doing my part for the children."

Louis winks at her before turning to Harry. "How'd you do, mate? Beat my record from last year?"

Harry shrugs, his eyes still on Y/N. "Sixty-seven kisses. Not bad for an hour."

"Sixty-seven people willingly put their lips on yours?" Y/N asks, genuinely astonished. "Were they blindfolded first?"

Harry laughs, a rich sound that Y/N reluctantly admits (to herself only) is rather nice. "You know, most girls on campus would consider it a privilege."

"I'm not most girls," she retorts.

"No," he agrees, his tone shifting to something more sincere, "you're definitely not."

The unexpected compliment throws her off balance momentarily.

Louis claps Harry on the shoulder. "My turn to shine. Though I notice you've still got some energy left for verbal sparring with our favorite psychology major."

"Just trying to convince her to contribute to the cause," Harry says innocently.

Louis looks between them with amusement. "Right. The cause."

As Louis takes his position at the booth and Zayn heads inside, the line shuffles forward. Maya moves with it, leaving Y/N standing awkwardly with Harry.

"I should go," she says, gesturing vaguely toward their dorm. "Papers to write, defense mechanisms to memorize."

"Or," Harry suggests, falling into step beside her as she turns to leave, "you could stick around. I'm done with my kissing duties, but I was going to help Niall count the money later."

"Tempting as it is to watch you struggle with basic math, I'll pass," Y/N says dryly.

Harry chuckles. "You know, one day you're going to run out of clever ways to insult me."

"I doubt that very much," she responds, though there's less bite in her tone than usual.

They've reached the sidewalk now, away from the crowd. Harry stops, causing Y/N to pause as well.

"Seriously though," he says, his playful demeanor slipping just slightly, "it is for a good cause. The children's hospital helped my cousin when she was little. It means a lot."

The sincerity in his voice catches Y/N off guard. It's a glimpse of the Harry that exists beneath the confident, flirtatious exterior, the one she occasionally spots in class when he thinks no one is watching, diligently taking notes and asking thoughtful questions.

"That's...actually really nice," she admits. "The fundraiser, I mean. Not the method."

Harry's smile returns, softer this time. "The method works, though. We raised over two thousand dollars last year."

Y/N glances back at the line, which has only grown longer. "I can see why."

A comfortable silence falls between them, perhaps the first they've ever shared that wasn't charged with their usual antagonism.

"I should really go," Y/N says finally, shifting her textbook in her arms. "Good luck with the rest of the fundraiser."

Harry nods, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a five-dollar bill. "Here."

Y/N looks at it, confused. "What's this for?"

"Consider it a donation in your name," he explains. "Since you refused to participate directly."

She hesitates, then takes the bill. "I'll drop it in the collection box on my way out."

"Or," Harry says, that mischievous glint returning to his eyes, "you could just take the kiss you paid for."

Y/N arches an eyebrow. "Technically, you paid."

"Semantics," he shrugs, taking a small step closer. "The money's going to the same place either way."

For a brief, crazy moment, Y/N actually considers it. There's something in Harry's expression, a mix of challenge and genuine interest, that makes her wonder what it would be like. Sixty-seven girls today alone couldn't be completely wrong, could they?

But then she thinks of the line of girls, the public setting, and her own stubborn pride.

"I think I'll just make the donation," she says, stepping back slightly.

If Harry is disappointed, he hides it well, nodding with a small smile. "Your loss, psychology girl."

Y/N turns to walk away, but pauses after a few steps. "Harry?"

He looks up, eyebrows raised expectantly.

She sighs before turning back to him, “you can kiss my cheek” she grumbles

Harry's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his usual cocky demeanor momentarily replaced by genuine shock. He recovers quickly, a slow smile spreading across his face, not the practiced, charming grin he flashes at everyone, but something more genuine that reaches his eyes and makes his dimples appear.

"Well, well," he says softly, taking a step toward her. "Psychology girl full of surprises."

Y/N immediately regrets her impulsive offer, but her pride won't let her take it back. She straightens her shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant despite the warmth creeping up her neck.

"It's for charity," she says primly. "And since you technically paid, I suppose it's only fair you get something for your donation. And I dont think youd want Louis or Niall kissing you"

"How generous of you," Harry murmurs, closing the distance between them.

He moves with a deliberate slowness that makes Y/N's heart beat faster. Standing this close, she can smell his cologne, something expensive and woodsy that she's secretly noticed before in class but would never admit to liking. His eyes, green with flecks of gold in the autumn sunlight, hold hers with unexpected intensity.

"Last chance to back out," he says quietly, giving her an opportunity to retreat that she hadn't expected from him.

Y/N swallows but holds her ground, turning her cheek slightly toward him in silent permission. She's acutely aware of the line of girls still visible on the porch, some of whom have noticed this interaction and are watching with undisguised interest.

Harry leans in, one hand coming up to gently brush her hair back from her face. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture sends an involuntary shiver down her spine. His fingers are warm against her skin, and she finds herself holding her breath as he moves closer.

His lips press against her cheek, soft and warm. It's not the quick peck she was expecting, but something more lingering, respectful of the boundaries she set, yet somehow managing to feel more intimate than a simple courtesy kiss. His stubble grazes her skin lightly, and she catches another hint of his cologne, mixed with something that's just distinctly him.

The kiss lasts only seconds, but when Harry pulls back, Y/N feels oddly disoriented, as if something fundamental has shifted between them.

"Thank you for your contribution," Harry says, his voice lower than usual, a hint of something unreadable in his expression.

Y/N clears her throat, desperately trying to regain her composure. "I expect a tax receipt," she manages, though her attempt at their usual banter falls slightly flat.

Harry laughs softly, still standing closer than their normal conversational distance. "I'll see what I can do."

From the porch, Louis calls out, breaking the moment: "Oi, Harry! Need you back here, we've got a line situation!"

Harry glances over his shoulder and waves acknowledgment, then turns back to Y/N. "Duty calls."

"Can't keep your admirers waiting," she says, finding her footing again.

Harry studies her for a moment longer, as if trying to solve a puzzle. "You know," he says thoughtfully, "for someone who claims to find me insufferable, you blush very prettily when I'm near."

Before Y/N can formulate a suitably cutting response, Harry takes a step backward, his usual confident smirk returning.

"See you in class tomorrow, psychology girl," he says with a wink, then turns and jogs back toward the house, where the line has indeed become somewhat chaotic.

Y/N stands rooted to the spot, her hand unconsciously touching the place on her cheek where his lips had been. She's annoyed to find that her heart is still beating faster than normal, and even more annoyed that Harry was right, her cheeks are warm with a blush she can't seem to control.

"Ridiculous," she mutters to herself, clutching her textbook tighter and turning resolutely toward her dorm.

As she walks away, she realizes she's still holding the five-dollar bill. After a moment's hesitation, she changes direction and heads back to the porch, where she wordlessly drops the money into the collection box before Harry can notice her return.

Maya, now at the front of the line and witnessing this entire interaction, gives her a knowing look that Y/N pointedly ignores. She'll have enough explaining to do when her roommate returns to their dorm later, no need to give her more ammunition by acknowledging what just happened.

As Y/N finally makes her way back to her building, she can't help glancing over her shoulder one last time. Through the crowd, she catches Harry's eye, he's been watching her leave. Instead of his usual teasing expression, there's something different in his gaze, something that makes her stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with annoyance.

She turns away quickly, but not before seeing the small, genuine smile that crosses his face, one that suggests their dynamic might be shifting in ways neither of them had anticipated when the day began.

Taglist: @hisparentsgallery @toosarcastic03 @practistyles @sstylezzz @sassamanda77 @wheredidmyeyesgo @pbandnutella @triski73 @angeldavis777 @ivegotthecinemaa @bethiegurl19 @spinninc @spargelhund

[micahulrichdraws]

I come in peace! I don’t wanna try to convince you to take commissions! But I am curious about why you’re so strongly against them, did you have a bad experience working on one? Anyway, love your stuff, your tarot designs go so hard

Thanks for the love!! The reason isn't a bad experience or some such, it's 19 years of being a professional artist and knowing the field!

TLDR: I'm a traditional pen and ink illustrator, so it's not financially viable or creatively fulfilling.

I'm always down to talk art business, so here's a brief breakdown wall of text:

On the financial side, commission designs are almost always done at a net loss/break even for the artist, and I'm no exception. They're alright for starting out, or if you're looking to incorporate them into your marketing (IE: doing a poster design for a band to gain exposure), but typically they're roughly half the cash-per-hour for any established artist VS making an original design, and creating a print run of it.

Example: while tons of folks would look at someone charging $1k USD for a commission and think that it would be crazy cash, once you break down the math, it's pretty bad. An average design for me takes on average 30-40 hours, and that's because I don't have to communicate with anyone else. I'm just drawin' my idea. Assuming this is a dream client who has the mind-meld with me, wire transfers the $1k straight into my bank account the second it's done, that's roughly $25/hr. Once again - this looks *great*, that's around $50k/yr from drawing custom stuff! But that's not how it works. First of all, most folks would lose their *minds* at paying $1k for a commission - over the years I graphed it out, and back when I was a less-established artist, most folks would start with a budget of $100, have their limits pushed at $300, and outright refuse $500. You have to sift through all of those folks in order to get that reasonable commission. That includes folks who aren't willing to commit to a commission, don't want to say no to the price, but will still take up your time. Roughly, for me at least, 10 hours a week of it. You'll also have to run collections on roughly 20% of your customers - they may pay the deposit, but you'll have to chase them for the final payment. Even if you take the payment *in advance* you'll end up having to chase them down/get ghosted. So, realistically: you end up taking the $500, for *at least* 50 hours of work. On average, it clocked in closer to 65-70. $7.14 an hour. That's less than a third living wage and less than minimum wage. You cannot grow an art practice while actively starving. It's easier to make a design, sell it/license it/etc. to make more cash without losing your mind.

That said - After 2020, I reached a point in my career that when I take on custom work, it's typically from a larger brand with a larger scope and larger budget, ranging anywhere from $5k-$30k. That said - these businesses are typically ones that understand the industry and are far less of a headache to work with than individuals, and will give several months worth of work at a time at a living wage.

On the creative side, I enjoy making my own designs and work as opposed to other folks. I have a ton of drawings and projects I'd rather work on and share with folks of my own that are infinitely more fun than the 200th identical commission request (a biblically accurate angel that also is the grim reaper that is also Baldur's Gate 3 thirstraps/Dark Souls fan art/primarchs because Y'ALL AIN'T CREATIVE BUT MY ASTARION X SANGUINIUS SHIP CAME FIRST.) Also, most of the fun of my career is knowing as many folks as possible get to enjoy my art junk. I'd rather go through a few extra hoops and have thousands of folks see my stuff vs something only one other person gets to see.

If you made it this far, congrats, here is my favorite image I have saved in my camera roll:

[mortalityplays]

Forgive me if I'm mistaking you for another person, but I remember you speaking at multiple points on the unsustainability of free social media services (I think especially in response to the cohost collapse?), and I'm curious on what your thoughts on bluesky are so far. I'm not an expert on the subject, but from what I've read previously it seemed like they were on track to be financially sustainable, but I don't know if the recent floods of users has thrown those projections off. Sorry if I'm mixing you up with someone else on my timeline, in that case just ignore me.

bluesky will almost certainly follow the same trajectory of monetisation => bloat => enshittification => decline as every other major platform built on venture capital and user hoarding. it's a terrible model that only works in the short term as a mirage for attracting funding and making founders look good for a year or two before they sell.

you can see the same effect in the decline of all the subscription box services that came into vogue just before covid: they feel great to use for as long as the initial injection of venture funding lasts, because the purpose of that funding at that stage is to attract users and impress the next round of funders with how pleasant/intuitive/efficient/ethical/good value the service is. that's the stage where they're handing out freebies and bowling over influencers, and every ingredient in the box is fresh and high quality and locally sourced. wow what a good deal, what a great system!!! why hasn't anyone done this before? the answer is because it's unsustainable by design. they rack up good reviews, sign on a billion new users, attract new funding from a bunch of much more credulous investors, and then gut all of the expensive parts. portions get smaller, ingredients get worse, packaging gets flimsier, prices go up, freebies turn into "5% off your first 9 boxes when you invite 3 friends", and customer service vanishes.

with social media (and platforms like discord) the logic is the same, it's just a little less glaringly obvious to the end user because they're not coming home to leaking packages of rancid chicken on the doorstep. bluesky has an advantage over tiny operations like cohost because it was founded by a billionaire making a point for the sake of his own image. it got a really significant chunk of startup funding, and the owner had existing connections and rep in the space to attract more. That's why it has survived the goldrush period, why it still feels good to use, and why users who have been burned so many times before are finally accepting it as a stable, reliable option. It's still in its venture capital honeymoon phase where the only thing worth spending money on is making the service attractive to users.

What I expect we will see next, with another mass influx of users from twitter and new funding from a rogue's gallery of tech venture sickos led by Blockchain Capital is a strong ramp up into monetising that userbase. They've already been pretty forthright about how they plan to do this, and I think it's a solid roadmap of how Bluesky will bloat and decay over the next few years:

this is a huge lol. don't worry, we're not going to hyperfinancialize the social experience through NFTs. the thing even crypto freaks started feigning amnesia about a year ago. real "our health conscious sodas are 100% arsenic free" messaging here. They know perfectly well that rubes users are suspicious of their typical 5 dimensional tech finance chess games and are patting our hands about last week's bogeymen so nobody worries too hard about whatever 'decentralised developer ecosystem' just happens to be helmed by a bunch of crypto guys. this definitely means something good and based and not a google-like single sign on user data harvesting operation.

This is the same shit that's currently rotting the floorboards of discord. Bluntly, there is no way to run a platform on this scale without gating functionality behind paid services. Discord has been squeezing free-tier file uploads and call quality etc. down steadily and cranking up subscription costs over the last year or two, throwing in chaff like animated avatar frames to try and justify the user cost. They're also doing the same misdirection thing again here, pointing to Thing We All Hate to deflect from thing we might not like very much when they do it. Booo elon booo we all hate elon!!! wait how do we feel about subscription models again,

watch out for this to kill porn on bsky like it has killed porn on every other social platform 👍 boooo we hate elon boooo stupid idiot and his 'everything app' booooo wait why do you need my tax information, what's that about mastercard,

Look, we are all aware social media is a money pit. Let's not forget dorsey was looking to sell twitter in the first place, long before elon's very public plunge into total online derangement. Subscription services are not going to plug the hole, so we are gradually going to see more and more spaghetti thrown at the wall while early funders shuffle cards and do their pyramid scheme bit bringing in stupider and stupider investments. this is the window in which bluesky will be temporarily worth using for us, for the idiot public, the poorly rendered crowd jpegs in the background of their venture capital MOBA. it's in their interests to slow and pad the decline as much as possible, because that is how they get maximally paid.

Given the scale of the money involved, and dorsey's weird ego investment, I think bluesky will probably manage a controlled drift for a good few years before it gets really bloated and painful. and by then we will all be so used to the *checks notes* decentralised developer ecosystem that we'll just be posting through it, watching another generation of columnists call another collapsing platform 'their beloved hellsite' and passing around that meme about not getting out of our chairs no sir until idk we all get on a fediverse neurolink alternative to stick it to the elongated muskrat and our brains pop peacefully in our sleep. which I guess is the closest thing to viability any social media platform can achieve.

anyway diogenes the cynic is also on bluesky

[hexhomos]

Kiss on the check accepted! :3c

And your response reminded me of a detail I always pick up on rewatches but hadn't fully untangled yet—in the flashback of her childhood, Mel steps into that broken throne room with blood still drying on it. At Ambessa's prompting, Mel goes right into talking about how to renovate the place. "Paint the walls gold"...like gilding over the horrors of conquest that got that power in the first place.

And when she describes the regent they should have, she finishes with, "she should be pliant, so we can mold her." That IS what she was doing with Jayce, slowly, over a decade, and then quickly through Acts 2 and 3.

And then in the scene, after Mel finishes describing a "pliant" regent who can be molded, her mother suggests MEL could be that regent. Young Mel is excited at the idea, entirely missing the implication that she too would be an asset of her mother's reign.

That's why she takes off her Medarda ring right before casting her vote for Zaun's independence. She's finally realized she's just as subject to her mother's games as anyone else and Chooses to stop working in the interests of her family's power.

And augh, I wish her s2 plotline hadn't taken her out of Piltover so we could have seen more of the spycraft against Ambessa she was up to in Arc 1. I can't help but think of how much stronger her confrontation with Ambessa would have been if we had a full season of "daughter works against mother" instead of just a few scenes and a lot of getting kidnapped. More ambiguity with Leblanc would've been great too instead of her killing Elora to say hello.

[continued from here]

EXACTLY the way they shafted the politics in s2 (specifically so they wouldn't need to have hard conversations) genuinely had a negative impact in the ENTIRE story. The systematic horrors were downplayed and plotlines were dropped with very short acknowledgements - this is why we get people complaining about the jayce/mel breakup scene "coming out of nowhere" despite the fact that it made perfect sense for these characters!!!!!! It was just too short and they changed the subject too quickly, so we don't have TIME to think about the economic issues again.

It's so clear to me that jayce, viktor, ekko, mel (each representing a diff political facet. curious!) etc were carefully removed from the actual real world so we never have to analyze or push back against the notion that cait/ambessa are doing a hostile military coup and HAVE gotten people killed, imprisoned, and tortured en masse. So they can neatly resolve all of the plot with an avengers-style montage and never talk about the stuff with real world implications. There is no war in piltover and zaun. Just a cartoony last second villain. We just need to unite to protect... piltover...? And now viktor is randomly forgetting his proud zaunite commie stance and teaming up with the imperial invaders that were plaguing the earth moments ago........? We never talk about the class inequality ever again? Forget everything. Nothing ever matters.

The end result was that we spent far less time with these characters and they ended up being pretty underdeveloped. I know this happened for marketing reasons, its so incredibly clear aspects of the story were dumbed down so they could sell more ingame skins or pitch new champions, and that was seen as more valuable and desirable for the company than politicking - because at heart riot don't care about the political stuff anyway. But it still makes me throw my hands up in the air. such an asspull

In a reality where we had enough time and investment to touch on this, Mel could have actually gotten to push back against ambessa/cait and directly deal with the consequences of her actions. SEVIKA could have gotten a proper payoff for her underground character arc, instead of vanishing halfway through and then randomly accepting a diversity hire seat on the council (insanity. that was insanity) Ekko and the firelights would have obviously played a key role in rallying people against ambessa and helping Jinx recover from her displacement crisis (sorry isha, but even you could have been better used as part of the firelights dilemma) Jayce's mounting disillusionment with piltover and his loyalty to Viktor would be much better explored if they were still in conversation about the cities, the world they wanted to help, and the chaotic blurry lines of personhood/citizenship that decide who is an 'acceptable' target under the fist of the state. Vi could have built a self-reliant identity for herself, something better to fight for that isnt 'being a cop'. This show could've been awesome. I wish it existed