#so if you reference something after that point

[drunkinyourbenz]

some billie smut with strap pleaseee 😩

felt like writing something soft w praise and bils talking r through it <3 very unedited i wrote this in 20 minutes lmao. also i'm back from the dead <3 sorry this is so short (600 words), trying to get back into writing again! ty for the request anon i hope this is okay, have some soft gf billie <3

billie thrusted slowly into you, the early morning sunlight streaming through the windows and onto the sheets where the two of you lay tangled together.

the two of you had woken up to one of your very rare mornings with nothing to do, nothing on billie’s normally hectic schedule. so you’d taken the morning slow, waking up ever so slowly with cuddles and lazy kisses. at some point, one of those kisses had escalated, and that was how you ended up here: billie thrusting into you slowly, almost lazily, with her lips trailing soft open-mouthed kisses and bites down your neck, collarbone, and cleavage. one of her fingers traced small circles on your clit, in time with her thrusts.

“you’re doing so good for me…” her voice had that soft rasp to it that it always had when she just woke up, and god it was hot. every few words, she would place another soft kiss along  your collarbones.

“if only you could see how pretty you look—how pretty you sound…” 

that was referring to the soft and sleepy moans falling from your lips, and the slightly glazed over look in your eyes from sleep. your eyelids were fluttering, your lips parted slightly. saying that billie was obsessed with you was an understatement, she could quite happily spend hours on end worshipping you and making sure you knew just how much she adored you. 

her thoughts during early morning photoshoots and interviews were always taken over by you, the sleeping figure she’d always had to leave behind in bed in the morning, despite wanting nothing more than to just keep her body tangled with yours until shark got too hungry to ignore. slow mornings like this were truly blessings for the two of you, where you could spend all the time you wanted in bed together before slowly migrating to the kitchen to make breakfast together. 

“mm, just like that.” she murmured as you moved your hips against the strap. each word was slightly drawn out, with that same raspy tone. “such a good girl.”

the finger on your clit sped up slightly, although it was still pretty slow—after all, the two of you had the whole day free. you moaned softly at her praise, and the mere sound of your moan made her let out a moan that was muffled by the skin of your neck. 

you could feel yourself clench around her strap, and moans spilled from your lips as you spoke, “billie-”

“i know, baby. you’re so close. you can cum, you’re doing so well. so pretty for me…” 

it didn’t take long for you to cum around her strap, her soft praises pushing you over the edge. billie continued her slow thrusts, working you through your high, trailing soft kisses along your neck and whispering sweet nothings into your ears. 

after a moment, your hand drifted down to touch her, but she made a soft sound of disapproval, a soft smile gracing her lips. “we have all day, love. i’m not finished with you yet, need to show my girl how much i adore her.” 

a soft smile spread over your lips and you felt your heart flutter in response to her words, and you leant up to press a sweet kiss to her lips. “i love you.”

billie was already moving down to settle between your legs so she could make you unravel all over again, and she looked up at you with that cheeky grin, “i love you more.”

[sinofwriting]

Karma - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,396 Summary: Charles and her had plans. 2025 would start with her fully moving in with him and then at the Monaco Grand Prix, they’d become public. A certain rapper ruins that in Vegas. Note(s): Lamar!Reader, Reader has the nickname ‘Butterfly’, slight smau, changed results of Abu Dhabi, also yes the title is referring to the Taylor Swift song, lol. Thank you @burningcupcakefire for encouraging me to write this when I mentioned the idea!!!

Masterlist | Support Me!

Charles could privately admit that when all the diss tracks started to come out, he more than paid attention to them. He had always appreciated Kendrick’s music but in the past year had gained a new perspective of him as both an artist and a person. All because he had started seeing the artist’s younger sister.

They hadn’t gone public yet, were still unsure of when they wanted to. He had reservations about putting more eyes on her and considering how his fans, how motorsport fans were, he could only imagine the baseless claims they’d made, the attacks they’d lay at her feet and Y/N, or Butterfly as she had been nicknamed by her brother’s fans, a nickname that had quickly caught to everyone in her life, had her own reasons.

She didn’t care about what fans would say, they were behind a keyboard, she could be perfect, and to Charles she was, and they would still find something to pick at, there was no winning. It was the attention he brought. She was already sometimes followed around by paparazzi just because of her brother, she knew that as soon as the news broke, she really would never be able to get her groceries in peace without some divorced thirty-year-old shouting questions as he took photos of her.

So they both had agreed that after the new year, when she was finally fully living with him in Monaco, and then at the Monaco Grand Prix, they would reveal their relationship, that of course didn’t go to plan because of one Instagram story.

—

—

Butterfly is fuming when he gets back to his hotel room, the curtains drawn back and letting the lights of Vegas spill into it, onto her. She’s nearly as stunning here as she is on his balcony in Monaco that faces the coast. A gorgeous backdrop that can’t even come close to her beauty no matter how much it tries.

Her fury makes arousal simmer in the pit of his stomach and his lips twitch upwards when she leans into the kiss he presses to the corner of her lips.

“You're nearly as mad as when he mentioned Whitney.”

She scowls at the verbal reminder of that shit. “He’s lucky I’m a civil adult.”

“Very civil.” Charles agrees.

“I mean, honestly what the fuck does he think he’s doing. Acting like he got an interest in F1.”

Charles listens as she starts to rant, having clearly waited for him, and he listens as undresses. Gathering his clothes up as her voice increases in volume and he gently tugs her with him into the bathroom, turning on the shower before easily lifting her onto the bathroom counter, her hands pausing their gesturing to run over his arms in thanks before she continues.

She rants through his brief shower, nearly slipping when she begins to read out texts between her and her brother.

“He is pissed?” His voice is nearly high, head poking out of the shower to look at her with wide eyes.

Butterfly looks at him in confusion, head cocked to the side. “Baby, of course. Your family. We don’t stand for shit like this against family.”

Charles can’t even point out that said shit is just an insta story of Drake saying he’s betting on him to win the grand prix, because he knows it feels deeper than that, especially with Drake’s history of betting. His mind is far too focused on the word family.

“I’m family?”

She lets out a laugh, tongue running over her teeth. “Baby, you got with me right before one of the worst times for our family and stuck through it. You never had to prove yourself, but that did it. You're stuck with all of us now.”

He feels warm all over at the words and he ducks his back into the shower, quickly rinsing off before climbing out, barely remembering to put a towel around his waist before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Her hands eagerly run over his back, legs opening to pull him closer and he tries to keep his upper body away from her, not wanting to get her shirt wet, but she pulls him closer and he can’t resist her, has never been able to.

“You’ve made me all wet.” She teases when they break apart.

He tries to apologize, but then she’s taking his hand and pressing it between them, against her leggings, and the feeling of wetness pulls a moan from the back of his throat.

“You are very lucky that I don’t listen to Andrea.”

“Very lucky.” She agrees.

—

“K said you had an idea.”

Charles lets out a hum, fingers trailing over her ribs.

“He wouldn’t tell me what.”

His fingers pause. “I was thinking instead of staying in Vegas tomorrow we go and see him.”

“We leave for Qatar on Monday.”

“We can make it back to Vegas in time for our flight. It’s barely a two-hour flight from there to here.”

This time she hums.

“Can we go public?”

He nearly chokes. “What?”

“Public, I want to go public. We had kind of talked about doing it before Monaco next season, but things have changed a bit.”

“Because I’m family.”

She laughs, “Yeah, baby, because your family.”

“What if we do a uh soft launch?”

“A soft launch?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a picture with your brother for my insta stories, start following you, you follow me back.” Excitement starts to build as he speaks.

“I post a little something about being in Qatar.”

“We do a little date night in Abu Dhabi.”

She hums, “You kiss me after you win Abu Dhabi.”

“You think I’m going to win?”

“Fuck yeah, baby. First Ferrari driver to win there and you’ll overtake Norris in the standings and maybe Ferrari will finish P2 in the constructors.”

“I like this plan.”

She smiles. “I like it too.”

—

—

—

—

“Yes Charles!”

“Yes!” He screams over the radio. “Where did Carlos finish? Where did Norris, Oscar?” He wants to celebrate the win, but the constructors and drivers are far more important.

“Carlos P6, Norris P3, Oscar P10. You are second in the drivers. And we are second in constructors, 2 points between you and Norris, four points between us and McLaren.”

“Fuck.” The excitement in him is simmered with resentment. Four points was all it came down to and of course it wasn’t in their favor.

“Charles, Charles,” Fred’s voice is thick over the radio. “You did fantastic, another win for you and an amazing drive!”

He smiles, taking his hands off to wave at fans as he slowly moves around the track. Italian easily spilling from his lips as he thanks Fred, Bryan, the mechanics, engineers and the whole team.

It’s satisfying to pull his car to the number one spot as Lando takes off his helmet, jaw twitching. Charles wants to shake him because how can he be this focused on second in the drivers when him and his team won the constructors. He stares at him for a second before getting out of the car and throwing himself into his teams arms.

They easily catch him, hands patting all over, his name spilling off lips over and over again. They grip him tighter before letting him go to take off his helmet and balaclava.

The air is refreshing against his face and normally he's taking a drink of water, starting to put back on jewelry, but today he’s searching through the crowd of red, heart thumping when he finally notices her.

She’s to the side, beaming at him as Bryan stands on her left while his mom and brothers stand to her right. And he goes to her.

His hands easily going to her face, holding it gently before kissing her.

She’s mumbling something against his lips and he wants to know what, but he can’t stop kissing her. Not when she’s clutching at his arms, pressing closer to him. But a nudge to the ribs makes him pull away, breathless, and his tongue runs over his swollen lips.

“So proud of you, baby! So fucking proud!” She yells at him as he’s pulled away for a post race interview and he can’t help but blow her a kiss, happy to have won in front of her for the first time and in front of his family again.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER FIVE

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur wc: 6.3k notes: masterlist ahead? uh yeah i sure hope it does! decided last minute i didn't really care about any real plot action this chapter outside of tess and paige so if you are disappointed by that, sorry but it's better this way, tess and paige are the plot now🤞 accidentally made this chapter kinda important, it lowk got away from me, but i hope you all enjoy 🫶

‘This Month in Review - The Cutest Sports Couple Since Megan and Sue’

Whether you’re a sports fanatic or a casual watcher, there is no denying that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy have taken the sports scene by storm. They are a topic of conversation in every room – and for good reason. Bueckers and Kennedy were top recruiting prospects out of high school, with Bueckers leading the pack as the #1 recruit and Kennedy following close behind as the #2. They are the current leaders of two superstar programs and despite not having played their full collegiate careers, Bueckers and Kennedy have already cemented themselves as players that will go down in history as the greatest to play college basketball at their institutions.

Bueckers and Kennedy are a power couple through and through, and while neither of them have made anything official, it is clear that they have spent this entire offseason together – even several hundred miles apart. Fans have pointed out that their recent TikTok reposts make references to missing a long distance lover or are largely relationship focused. Their Instagram stories often feature each other. From Kennedy’s Instagram, a recent story showcased a short clip of Bueckers holding a LEGO rose, winking as she blew a kiss to the camera. From Bueckers’s Instagram, a recent story included a FaceTime screenshot of Kennedy, grinning as she threw a thumbs up for the photo, and it was affectionately captioned, “My duo 🎮.”

Additionally, they have been noticeably active in each other’s Instagram comment section:

[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: MAY 30, 2023 | BUECKERS IS PHOTOGRAPHED WEARING A LEG SLEEVE, BLUE AND WHITE PATTERNED BASKETBALL SHORTS, AND A BLACK LONG SLEEVED SHIRT ROLLED UP TO HER ELBOWS. SHE IS MID-JUMPER, LEFT ARM EXTENDED AND RIGHT WRIST BENT. USER PAIGEBUECKERS: “TUNNEL VISION ON A MISSION ⏳” | USER TESSKENNEDY25: “I AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY 👁️” END TRANSCRIPTION.]

Their galavanting didn’t end there. They made their relationship known through TikTok live one night, featuring Bueckers, Kennedy, and some of Buecker’s UConn teammates including Aaliyah Edwards and Nika Muhl. The TikTok live was a source of endless laughter, jokes, and games. Again, nothing was officially confirmed, although many viewers posted various screen recordings the morning after, and all fans can agree on is that Bueckers and Kennedy are not slick.

Many are comparing their relationship to Sue Bird and Megan Rapinoe, and we have to admit, the similarity is there. Bueckers and Kennedy are both standout athletes and leaders on dynasty teams. Fans are eagerly awaiting the hard-launch, if only just to confirm what we all know is true.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

JUNE 20, 2023

“Do you have everything, piccola? Brace, heating pad, charger?”

Making a conscious effort to fix her face, Tess resists a sigh and responds, “Yes, mamma, I have everything.” She knows that her mother is just looking out for her, but she’s been through all of her belongings three times now and she knows for a fact that she has everything. If something was missing, she’s certain Paige would have an extra or she’d be able to buy a new one in Massachusetts. 

She got the call from Amaya only a few days ago. To no one’s surprise at all, the media was eating up her and Paige’s fake relationship. Their brand deals were feeling secure in their investments once more and the tabloids were far more concerned about Tess & Paige than they were about Tess’s month-long crash out. With everything aligning once more, Bose actually wanted to sign a joint deal with her and Paige and get them to advertise a new product – standard NIL endorsement stuff, but the icing on the cake was Amaya’s cheerful, “You’re married now!” that nearly made Tess’s heart fall out of her ass.

Tess doesn’t make a habit of being a gullible person, but she genuinely thought Amaya was going to make her and Paige scrap the whole “soft-launch” idea and just come out at the altar with wedding rings. Amaya was quick to clarify it wasn’t actually like that (Thank God), but the Bose representatives wanted to do something corny, monopolize on their traction as a duo, and Tess and Paige would henceforth be named Mrs. and Mrs. Bose.

It was pretty stupid, but a little funny, and as soon as Tess saw her payout, she couldn’t really complain.

“And Paige is getting you from the airport? No Uber?” her father asks for the second time, mostly to clarify.

Tess can’t stop the flush from spreading across her cheeks like she’d been caught red-handed. Truthfully, her parents weren’t haters by any means. They were oddly invested in her and Paige’s ruse – which made lying to them about it so much more difficult, but the both of them seemed to genuinely like Paige despite never speaking to her. They’d been begging for weeks straight for Tess to bring her home so they could meet her since it’s “getting serious,” although they were pleased to know she’d probably be around by Christmas. She and Paige had this commercial to film, then Paige would have to return to Storrs for summer practices (Tess wouldn’t be returning until the semester officially started – she wants to work as much as she could with Terri, no hate to Craig), then Paige was set to spend early August in Europe with her teammates. Both of them would be extremely busy in the coming months, especially once the season started, so they weren’t expecting to see each other all too much outside of FaceTime.

“Yes, Paige will pick me up,” Tess confirms, zipping up her backpack one last time. “She flew in this morning.” Tess tactfully leaves out the part where Paige had completely rearranged her flight schedule for her. Paige argued that it “wasn’t safe” to put her safety in the hands of a random Uber driver given her knee and that she hated late flights anyways. Tess knows that Paige truthfully doesn’t give a fuck about flight times, but arguing with her was near impossible.

Her father gives an approving nod, and much to Tess’s well-hidden anxiety induced annoyance, the three of them do one last check of her belongings before they load up in the car to drop her off at the airport. Tess tries her best to tune into the conversation, although part of her is still nervous about flying. She’s been cleared to travel for a week or two now. Despite that, she can’t help but anticipate the worst going wrong. Amaya splurged on first class so she’d have plenty of leg room and she’s flying on a very reputable airline. She has to remind herself that realistically, she’ll be perfectly fine.

It’s a quiet morning at the airport as her father pulls into the drop off lane, putting the car in park. “Text us as soon as you land, okay, piccola?” her mother tells her.

Tess flashes the both of them a comforting smile, leaning forward to give them quick hugs. “Of course.” And with that, she grabs her suitcase and her backpack, says her goodbyes, and waits for her parents to pull off before she walks through the airport in search of her gate. She’s only stopped a few times by fans asking for photos, which she dutifully poses for, then she makes her way to the counter to check in. She only has to wait a few more moments to board the plane. Amaya set her up with a secluded seat in the back. She snags a quick photo of the tarmac and sends it to Paige, whose response comes quickly.

Tell your pilot to take a shortcut or sum I miss you

you use that line on all the girls back home?

Is it working?

maybe a little

Then no All my lines are for Tess Kennedy and Tess Kennedy only

good

🤔 Are you forgetting something?

miss you too pb 👎

I know 😁

so modest gtg we’re about to take off

I’ll be waiting 🫶

Tess simply reacts to Paige’s last message with a heart, unable to wipe the smile off her face. She shuts her phone off and settles in for the hour long flight.

When the plane touches down in Framingham, Massachusetts, Tess is full of restless energy. It’s equal parts relief and excitement; however, after spending the morning traveling, she’s ready to get back to the hotel and get a nap in before she has to be productive. She hauls her bag over her shoulder and exits the plane with the other passengers as she waits for her phone to power back on. When it does, she sees that a text from Paige is already waiting for her.

I got your suitcase I’m like right in front of the gate

Tess sends back a thumbs up, something she’s sure Paige is annoyed by, and slides her phone back into her pocket. She follows the crowd out. Her heart thrums with anticipation, even as she tries to shove down those complicated feelings. Friends are allowed to miss each other, but her longing feels different somehow. She and Paige were practically inseparable for the month they were apart. Knowing that they’re about to reunite in person leaves her giddy with anticipation.

The crowd clears. Paige stands tall and proud in the center of the boarding area, an easy smile on her face and her arms hiding something behind her back. When Paige finally spots her, her smile widens and she begins taking swift steps towards her. Tess matches her strides, falling into her embrace with a soft laugh and overwhelming relief. One of Paige’s arms loop around her waist, squeezing her gently. “Missed you,” Paige murmurs, her cheek pressed to her head, and Tess doesn’t bother fighting the flush or the enamored upward curve of her lips.

“Missed you too, P,” she confesses. Paige’s arm tightens around her waist and she can feel the smile the blonde presses to the crown of her head. She pulls back, uncaring of the way the crowd clamors or the phones pointed at them, fully focused on Paige. Her hair is pulled back into a wavy ponytail, her face bare (yet she’s still undeniably beautiful), and she’s dressed in a UConn hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants. Simple, but Paige is good at pulling just about anything off. With a mischievous grin, Paige displays the bouquet of flowers she’d been hiding behind her back, and Tess can’t quite hide the surprise on her features. “Paige – what?”

Paige carefully pushes them into Tess’s hands. They’re roses and in shockingly good quality, as if they’d been plucked directly from a garden rather than purchased from a grocery store. “Saw ‘em and had to get ‘em for you. Figured you deserved a little better than that LEGO flower after these past two months, yeah?”

Tess is speechless, her mouth opening and closing much like a fish’s. No one has ever gotten her flowers before, high school graduation aside. Paige did this completely on her own whims, and that thought alone makes a fresh blush creep up her neck. She glances at Paige, a soft smile spreading across her face. “These are beautiful, P. Thank you.”

Paige’s grin turns tender, her face clearly pleased as she pulls Tess in by her waist once more, careful to not squash the flowers. “‘Course, ma,” she says like it’s the easiest thing in the world, which, for a girl like Paige, it probably is. That thought alone is sobering and Tess remembers where they are, adrenaline rushing into her mouth as Paige releases her. “Ready to go, Mrs. Bose?”

“So fucking corny,” Tess groans, but Paige’s joke is enough for the tension to melt away, for Tess to forget all about the sudden sadness she’d felt as Paige hugged her. “Lead the way, Mrs. Bose.” Paige cocks a wry smirk at her and does just that, her left hand reaching for the handle of Tess’s suitcase. Her free hand brushes against Tess’s, a silent question in her eyes. One glance at the crowd makes her heart race, but Paige’s eyes are soft, understanding, and all the convincing she needs. She links her fingers together with Paige’s, relishing in the squeeze Paige gives her in reassurance. Tess tries not to think too hard about how well their hands fit together – the blonde’s are just slightly larger, enveloping her own in a way that should not be as comforting as it is, and her thumb mindlessly brushes against her knuckle.

Paige leads them through the busy airport, the crowd parting for them, and Tess hardly pays it any attention as she gets lost in her racing thoughts. They’re just friends. Sure, no one in her life is as close to her in the way Paige is right now, but they just have their own thing going on right now. Pretending to be each other’s girlfriend requires a lot of commitment that neither of them have otherwise experienced. Tess was never one for romance – it wasn’t in the cards for someone like her. Growing up, she was taller than most other girls – and boys – her age. A lot of people weren’t into that. Then she realized she didn’t even like boys, which never bothered her, but she felt as though she was missing out on some crucial part of girlhood because she wasn’t desired or yearned for. She’ll be the first to admit it sounds stupid. There’s many people out there with issues far more serious than whether or not they were somebody’s crush in high school. She’s out of her element in so many ways, and she can’t help but think back to that initial burst of anxiety she felt as soon as the severity of the situation finally hit her. She’s in way over her head, she’s realizing it now, and she fears that it won’t be long until people realize she has no idea what she’s doing.

But Paige? One glance at her, at the easy expression on her face, the slight furrow of her brow as she scans the airport signs for the exit, and Tess can tell she’s not freaking the fuck out like she is. Paige is vastly more experienced in this situation than Tess is and they both know it. Paige said she could do casual. This is essentially what this was, right? All of the romance without the intimacy. Tess should have told her right then and there that she was not built for casual. It always spins out of control, and Tess is probably living proof of that.

This is all physical, she tells herself, unsure of if she even believes it. You don’t actually like her. She’s attractive – that’s all there is to it. And for now, that explanation is good enough for her. She’s going to do these commercials with Paige, hard-launch their fake relationship, and then they’re going to be far too busy to see each other until the holidays when they visit each other’s families to, again, hard-launch their fake relationship and tell the biggest lie to the people closest to them. That time apart will be enough for Tess to get her head back on straight and realize there's absolutely nothing going on between her and Paige that should be of any (reasonable) concern.

She almost believes that. At least until Paige smiles at her as she loads her suitcase into the trunk of her rental, opening the passenger door for her. Tess’s heart swells and she realizes just how unfathomably fucked she is.

JUNE 21, 2023

After a calm night spent watching Grey’s Anatomy – Paige’s request, obviously – Tess and Paige were up bright and early Wednesday morning to drive out to the Bose main office for filming. Paige entrusted her with the aux and promised to not complain about her music choices as long as Tess bought breakfast, which was a deal Tess was all too happy to make as she directed Paige to the nearest Dunkin. She made sure to snag plenty of pictures for the Instagram hard launch they planned to post before they went their separate ways. Her personal favorite was the one of Paige sitting in the driver’s seat, legs wide and pressed against the door and the center console, sunglasses perched over the bridge of her nose as she held both of their coffees. The blonde sported an easy smile with her hair in her game-day braids and her thin, black fleece jacket was unzipped, showcasing the UConn shirt she was wearing under it. Paige made sure to get one of her, too, but it was less presentable and far too candid – Paige had swiped whipped cream across her nose and photographed her mid-gasp. Tess begged her to delete it, but Paige’s infectious laughter caused all of the indignation to drain from her body.

With breakfast and coffee secured, Paige drives the rest of the way to their filming location as Tess hums along to Omar Apollo. The silence in the car is calm, both of them comfortable in simply sitting next to each other as the music plays. Paige shifts, her elbow resting on the center console as she drives with her left hand. Her fingers mindlessly twirl the straw in her cup. The movement catches Tess’s eye and she’s suddenly overcome with the urge to grab her hand.

It’s domestic, in a sense – sitting next to Paige in the car as they drive down the road with the windows down. The weather holds a gentle bite, not overbearingly cold, but chilly enough that it makes Tess feel a little more tethered, that she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

In her last session with Yvette, the psychologist recommended she just let go. As obvious as the advice is, and despite it being easier said than done, Tess is interested in giving it an honest shot. For years, she’s carried so much anxiety with her, worried about whether or not she’s doing something right or worried about how she’s being perceived. Sometimes, it takes a little bit of discomfort to move forward.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Tess props her arm up on the center console. Paige is close enough that she can feel her jacket sleeve brushing against her arm. She can feel Paige’s gaze on her, the gentle curiosity, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead, watching as the trees pass by in green blurs. Then she feels her move, feels her knuckles brush against her hand; and with her heart thrumming in her chest, Tess wordlessly unclenches her fist in invitation. Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s linking their fingers together, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Tess spots her smile from the corner of her eye, and knowing that Paige is watching her, too, she allows a smile of her own to grace her features. Nothing has ever felt as right as Paige’s hand in hers in a long time. As she continues driving, Tess can’t help herself from feeling at peace.

When the two of them finally make it back to their hotel room after spending the day filming, Tess collapses onto her bed with a dramatic groan, immediately reaching for her pillow and wrapping both arms around it, pressing her chin into the cushion. She hears Paige snort from somewhere in the room, followed by rustling as she shrugs her jacket off her shoulders and throws it haphazardly on her bed. “Tired?” Paige asks teasingly.

Tess hums in confirmation. Tired doesn’t even begin to cover it. She was up early, was on her feet for most of the day, and all of the reshoots and retakes weren’t doing her any favors. She knows she’s crashing out for no reason – this is literally her job – but she’s equal parts tired and hangry and she honestly just wants a hot shower.

“Want me to DoorDash somethin’?” Paige asks, as if reading her mind. She kicks off her shoes and falls into bed next to Tess, already pulling out her phone.

Tess cracks one eye open as the mattress dips under their shared weight, glancing at Paige, who crosses one leg over the other as she gets comfortable. “Chick-fil-A?” she requests. “Nuggets and fries? My card’s in my wallet.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “Hell no. You got breakfast.”

Tess rolls her eyes. “Breakfast and the aux.”

“All you played was sad, break-up R&B,” Paige grumbles. “I really should make you cover dinner after that bullshit. Feels like there’s something you’re tryna tell me.”

“Pretty sure I’m not contractually allowed to break up with you,” Tess retorts. “So don’t worry.”

The blonde hums, unconvinced, before she turns off her phone and throws it in between the two of them. “Dasher’s gonna be here in 15,” she says, gazing down at her. “You good? Your knee okay?”

Figuring her current position probably isn’t the greatest for said knee, Tess rolls onto her back and stretches her leg out with a sigh. Her elbow brushes against Paige’s stomach and Tess shifts again, not realizing how little space she’d left between them after she moved. “‘M good,” she says. “Should probably get an ice pack just in case.”

Paige is rolling off the bed before Tess even registers what’s going on. She watches her pull the lid off of the ice box on the desk, scooping up a handful and depositing it in a plastic bag. She tests the seal, and once she’s satisfied, she wraps the makeshift pack in a towel, plucks a pillow off of her bed, and holds the ice pack in between her teeth as she gently lifts Tess’s leg, sliding the pillow underneath. Tess’s breath hitches at the slightest contact, and despite the chill of the ice pack, Paige’s hands are inexplicably warm on her skin.

“Is this the Dr. Bueckers the ladies told me about?” Tess asks with a coy smile, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. The way Paige was gazing at her left too much for her to want, eyes soft and attentive, and for Tess, it was easier to hide the longing with humor.

“You play too much,” Paige says, but her words lack any real heat as she rounds the bed once more and crawls back in, reclining against the pile of pillows. She’s closer than she was before she left. Tess can smell her perfume, the shampoo she’d used the night before. Paige is magnetic, that much Tess knew to be true – she’d felt it the very moment Paige stopped her outside of the conference room to inform her that she’d be tagging along for PT. It’s only now that she realizes how strong her pull was as she unconsciously leans into Paige’s space, the blonde’s arm raising to wrap around her, fingers splayed against her shoulder.

“Do I?” she asks, if only to fill the silence. Paige’s thumb begins to trace soft patterns on her skin. It’s difficult for her to focus on anything but that, but she cranes her neck, finding that Paige is already staring at her. Tess flushes under her gaze, though she refuses to break eye contact.

Paige’s lips quirk as she responds, “Yeah. You do.” She seems as though she’s content to leave it at that, but a couple beats pass before she’s speaking again. “You want a lot of things you think you can’t have.” Tess’s brow raises at her words, but she remains quiet. “I see it in film. You’re an insane three-point shooter but you rarely take middies or layups unless it’s absolutely free. And you do this thing – it’s like you’re faking the drive, and I can tell you really want to do it, but you just…don’t. You’re not faking. You’re just scared to get out of your comfort zone and go for it. Scared to get close.”

Tess doesn’t think they’re talking about basketball anymore. Despite the sharpness of her words, Paige’s tone is gentle, and the smile on her face is both confusing and frustrating. Frustrating because Tess knows she’s right; confusing because Paige knows she’s right, but it seems like she’s not completely confident in Tess taking that leap. Honestly, part of Tess is tempted to prove her right. She knows they could drop this topic right now and Paige wouldn’t press her. The other part of her knows they’ve come this far together, that she’s come this far. Doesn’t she owe it to herself, to Paige, to be vulnerable? To take the drive into the paint, risk getting fouled, instead of hovering at the perimeter to take the same shot she’s taken thousands of times already?

She thinks she does. Tess is tired of wanting, of yearning for the things well within her reach if only she had the confidence to go after them. But perhaps there is a thin line between confidence and bravery, between knowing and trying. So she shifts, feeling a little braver, angling her body towards Paige’s, fists the collar of her UConn t-shirt, and pulls her closer and closer until their lips finally meet.

Paige gasps against her, surprised, before her good sense returns and she melts into Tess. The hand on her shoulder skims across her skin to rest on the nape of her neck, her right hand reaching up to hold her face. As Paige guides her jaw to get better access, her kiss deep and consuming, she takes full advantage of Tess’s jilted sigh. Her hands fall from Paige’s collar, finding purchase on her stomach and her waist in search of stabilization. Paige leaves her breathless and woozy, and if she didn’t feel secure in the way she was holding her, then Tess would be afraid of floating away completely.

They break away, chests heaving, flushes down to their collarbones. Tess’s eyes open with a flutter of her eyelashes. Paige is already staring at her, her eyes wide in some sort of awe, pupils dilated. Her lips are swollen, shiny, and Tess can’t help the feeling of smug satisfaction that comes with knowing she did that. Paige Bueckers looks like a mess and it’s all because of her. “Still think I’m scared?” she asks, voice hoarse, her fingers gripping the fabric of Paige’s shirt.

The smile that spreads across Paige’s face is raw, real, visibly affectionate despite her next words. “Yeah.” Tess almost rolls her eyes, but Paige’s hand drops to the base of her throat, her middle finger brushing against her pulse point. She doesn’t apply any sort of pressure, but the weight of her hand makes her head spin anyways. “But s’okay.”

Tess chuckles. “To be scared?”

Paige hums an affirmative, shifting again, and she presses her lips against Tess’s. It’s different this time; firm, lingering, and insistent, almost as though she’s trying to take everything she possibly could. The weight of Paige’s body against hers is exhilarating and it makes her heart race. She can feel Paige’s smirk against her lips. Tess is instantly reminded of the fact that Paige can feel the thrumming of her pulse. She pushes her back with a hand to her chest, smiling at the rumble of laughter that reverberates through her body. “S’okay to be scared,” Paige says seriously, her thumb wiping away the smear of gloss on Tess’s lip. “But you don’t gotta be. Not with me.”

Tess meets her gaze, studying her features, the sheer honesty in her expression. Paige releases her jaw, her hands reaching down to untangle Tess’s fingers from where they’re still clenched in her shirt, fitting their hands together. “Don’t overthink it,” Paige whispers, understanding Tess’s mannerisms by heart now.

But the peace is always short-lived. Tess frowns, her voice almost a murmur when she asks, “What are we doing?” Paige’s eyes widen slightly. Tess wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been so fine-tuned to Paige’s every move for the past month. “The rules, Paige, we agreed–”

“We haven’t broken any of the rules,” Paige states firmly. She squeezes Tess’s hands, her throat bobbing as she swallows. “We communicate. We don’t see other people. We don’t tell other people. And we…” Paige struggles to find the words. “We don’t have to label this. It’s just us.” Tess’s face softens, the furrow in her brow relaxing. “‘M just…glad it was here. You and me, no cameras. And... we can just say we practiced for the public, right?” Paige’s thumb brushes against her hand as she stares at her imploringly, almost as though she’s pleading for Tess to agree, to stop thinking and just do it.

Practice. That word fills her with simultaneous relief and dread, but she remembers Paige’s words. Don’t overthink it. Tess understands that they’re walking a very thin line right now. Why should she let her brain ruin it? They don’t have to complicate what they have right now. And for now, that’s good enough for her. “Practicing is fine,” she confirms, feeling a little more confident.

When Paige’s eyes light up, her lips quirking into a smile, Tess believes that she’s made the right decision. “Yeah?”

Tess nods, flashing a smile that’s unexpectedly genuine. “Yeah.” She pulls Paige in closer by her hands, their lips brushing again, but before she can melt into her completely, Paige’s phone rings and the two of them snap apart.

“Fuck,” Paige groans, her brows drawn tight in annoyance. She hardly looks twice at her phone as she picks it up and answers it. “Hello?” Tess can barely make out what the person on the other end is saying, but the tension leaves Paige’s body. “Okay, I’ll be down. Thank you.” Tess looks at her curiously as she hangs up the phone. “Cockblocked by the dasher,” she says solemnly, unable to hide her pout. “Gimme five minutes, I have to go meet him.”

Tess can’t wipe the smile off her face as Paige rolls off the bed again, slipping on her shoes and rummaging around in her bag for her wallet. Before she leaves, Tess catches her by her wrist, pulling her down to her level and planting a chaste kiss to her lips – a far cry from the one they’d been cheated out of. “Hurry back,” she says. “I’m hangry.”

“Two minutes,” Paige breathes out, grinning stupidly, pushing Tess’s hair out of her face. Then she’s gone, and Tess is left alone in the silence of their room. If any of this had happened a week prior, Tess would probably be spiraling, but she’s committed to turning over a new leaf. She’s not going to overthink it, she’s not going to crash out, and most of all, she’s going to accept this new development in her and Paige’s friendship for what it is without trying to second guess whatever it could mean. They can just be friends who kiss now. That’s a thing. They don’t have to label anything. They can just be them, and as far as Tess is concerned, she’s okay with that.

Paige makes it back in record time, Chick-fil-A bag and drink carrier in hand and slightly out of breath. At Tess’s brow raise, Paige shrugs cheekily, handing over a milkshake. “You said you were hangry,” she teases, sliding back into bed next to her. “I’m too young to die.”

Tess rolls her eyes as Paige begins dividing out their food, passing the sauce and napkins. “You’re such an asshole,” she says good-naturedly.

“You kissed me,” Paige reminds her, as if Tess could ever forget about that. “What does that say about you?”

“I’m a very charitable person,” Tess supplies modestly. Paige snorts like she doesn’t believe that, but Tess smiles regardless.

They continue chatting throughout dinner. Paige pretends like she doesn’t notice Tess stealing her fries, although Paige ends up using most of Tess’s sauce, so they call it even at the end. Paige throws their trash away while Tess scrolls on her phone, only glancing up when Paige returns, hooking her chin over her shoulder and throwing a casual arm over Tess’s waist. “Time to break the internet?”

“You better not post anything embarrassing,” Tess grumbles, enjoying the weight of Paige’s body on hers.

Paige hides her laugh in the fabric of her shirt. “I couldn’t if I tried.” She pulls out her phone, opening Instagram and begins drafting a new post. Tess’s eyes catch on some of Paige’s photos as she scrolls through them. There’s random screenshots of Bible quotes, a concerning amount of selfies, a lot of basketball related things, and pictures of Tess have somehow become a new trend in her gallery. From the photo of Tess with cream on her nose, FaceTime candids, to photos from their shoot today that Tess wasn’t even aware Paige had taken. Tess softens. Most of the pictures were nice. “Could get a new one,” Paige suggests, opening her camera and pointing it at the mirror on the opposite wall, displaying the two of them pressed close together. Tess rolls her eyes, chuckling, but Paige takes the photo before she can react.

“Paige Madison,” Tess sighs. She can feel Paige smile against her.

“C’mon,” she goads. “We look good.” Tess can’t really argue with that one, so she leans her head against Paige’s and begins drafting her own Instagram post. They work in silence as they select the best photos for the hard launch. It’s only been a month and a half, but Tess feels both fondness and nostalgia as she scrolls through their photos and their memories. She has a couple of photos from PT with Paige, FaceTime screenshots, the photo of Paige holding their coffees, and photos of Paige trying to style the Mrs. Bose earbuds they were promoting. She knows there was a reason why Paige came into her life, but she can’t help feeling like she showed up at the right time; it could have been anyone else – college athletics has an endless amount of controversial athletes who are in need of image repair – yet being paired with Paige feels like a stroke of fate.

Tess selects only a few photos, not wanting to go overboard. She includes their first picture at PT – Paige holding the ice pack over her knee, the FaceTime screenshot of Paige showcasing the LEGO rose, Paige and their coffees, and a mirror selfie they’d taken after stylists did their hair and makeup for the shoot. She captions it “here’s to tess kennedy’s worst kept secret. thank you for coming into my life when you did,” and while this hard launch is not real, the sentiment is.

Paige finishes at around the same time she does, a soft smile on her face as they swap phones to look at each other’s work. True to her word, Paige kept the embarrassment to a minimum, although the first photo she selected was the one with whipped cream on her nose. Tess shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it’s quickly growing on her. The rest of the photos consist of the mirror selfie Paige just took, a screenshot of Tess modeling the gold dress for her, a bible quote – 1 Corinthians 16:14 – and, shockingly enough, an older photo of them from their freshman year, shaking hands after the first game they’d played against one another. They’re both cheesing. Tess remembers that loss vividly. The media called it The Battle of the Freshmen, mostly because it was the long awaited match-up between Tess and Paige, who’d been hailed as freshmen phenoms, two top recruits. In that game, they both accounted for the majority of their team’s points. Paige was responsible for 31 of UConn’s 63 while Tess led South Carolina with 30 of their 59.

Tess couldn’t even be upset at the loss. She and Paige played their hearts out, and honestly, playing against Paige was the highlight of the game. From their expressions alone, you would have thought they both walked home with trophies that night. Tess could argue that she did. Playing with Paige makes you a better player, sure, but playing against her? Tess learned so much from her game, although she would never admit that to Paige; her ego is too overinflated and Tess will not contribute to growing it.

“Where’d you find the last one?” Tess asks curiously, handing Paige’s phone back.

Paige does the same, her face lighting up with a soft smile. “Got tagged in it a couple times,” she says. “Felt right.” Tess can’t argue against that, smiling too. “At the same time?” Tess hums in confirmation, her thumb hovering over the post button, and simultaneously, they both share the hard launch to their pages. There is a very brief period of stillness before the notifications and comments begin pouring in. Tess swipes over to Paige’s post and only then does she read the caption, “And her pink skies will keep me warm.”

“Cheesy ass Frank lyric!” Tess exclaims with a laugh.

Paige looks inexplicably smug, pleased with herself. “Full circle,” she says.

“Full circle,” Tess agrees, her smile turning tender.

It’s at that moment that everything finally clicks. The lyrics filter through her brain. And a new day will bring about the dawn. And her pink skies will keep me warm. She can hear it perfectly, Frank’s voice singing to her, “Abandon mission, you must be kiddin’, this shit feelin’ different, shit feelin’ different to me.” All of the thoughts she’d been ignoring, the uncomfortable conversation with herself she’d been avoiding. She tried to push it down, but the realization came into focus with stunning clarity. Tess liked Paige. Tess likes her.

That was the entire reason why everything has felt so different. It wasn’t because she and Paige were spending so much time together, why Paige has become nearly synonymous with Tess’s recovery. It wasn’t because their friendship was just different. It was because it wasn’t friendship at all. It was always something more, even from the start.

Tess feels as though the floor beneath her could splinter, a giant crack down the middle that would send her tumbling to the ground below. She likes Paige. She has feelings for Paige. Calling it by any other name wouldn’t do her any good. She broke their rules and it’s taken her this long to realize.

“You good?” Paige asks her, her brows drawn into a furrow, concern etched onto her face as her hand reaches for Tess’s. She hadn’t realized she was shaking.

Tess clears her throat, nodding. “Yeah,” she lies, hoping that it sounds believable. Bree’s words come back to her. You’re lying to Paige, which is why you’re fumbling the bag. She was right all along. Tess could laugh at the absurdity of it all if Paige wasn’t sitting next to her. “Just need a shower, I think.”

She decides right then and there that Paige can’t know. She can’t know that she’s close to ruining it all, close to undoing all of the work they’d done to restore their reputations. That she’d broken their rule after all. That she let this get out of hand, and if Paige knew, their friendship would be destroyed for sure, and Tess isn’t sure if she could handle not having Paige around.

Paige hums, seemingly convinced, but all Tess can think about is what she’s done.

[perkeleen-lavellan]

I have my complaints about Taash's writing but none of them sure as fuck was ever 'they talk weird'

Anyone remember Sera? Anyone remember the heavily stylised way Sera spoke in which both indicated her being streetwise and her impatient nature, what with her using slang and speaking in a way that was also quite to the point. Characters are meant to have their own voice.

If we're talking about inserting distinctly modern words into the writing, then we can talk.

I would now like to remind people about something Sebastian says in everyone's beloved DA2:

(In banter between him and Anders after completing Dissent)

"So your 'Tranquil Solution' was hardly the holocaust you imagined."

This was an immersion breaking use of modern words so egregious that I still remember it fondly after all these years. A reference to historical events from our real world history so directly tied to those events you simply cannot use them in your fantasy world without implying that... Thedas apparently had a Nazi Germany in the past? Yeah, that line needed some further work.

And before anyone says DA2 was written in like 2 weeks, I am aware. I am also aware that Veilguard has gone through a dev cycle just as tumultuous, and frankly I do not care. This is still a mistake in the writing, something you might have caught in editing if there was time to do more of it. My point here is that using modern terms in fantasy writing can be genuinely a grating mistake that seems highly amateurish. It is amateurish when it isn't cleaned in editing. I can understand the complaints about modernity in the writing of Veilguard. I will not however entertain complaints about Taash's speaking tone because if we take the modernity away it fits inside Thedas just fine and has a characterisation purpose. Also I just wanted to remind people that even this is not a new issue with BioWare, nor an issue exclusive to Trick Weekes.

This is why I can't take this fandom seriously.

Taash is in their very early 20's. They are not a “thousands of years old being who speaks in iambs” or whatever the fuck it is that Solavellans gush on about. Not a goddamn thing they say is “crap” - it's short, it's to the point, it's very often funny as fuck because it pulls no punches. It serves as comedic punctuation very often simply because they don't have the patience for other people's bullshit.

I never see specifics as to what people find cringey and I suspect it's because people are uncomfortable with Taash's identity, or CONSTANTLY forget they are 20-23. And holy shit the cringe things everyone says at that age.

Taash is remarkable and mature for their age, an expert in their favorite subject, and recognized as such by people much older than them, who literally put their lives in Taash's hands regularly. I think Taash is allowed a few moments to be weird and 20 once in a fucking while without people coming for Trick and gurgling on about inconsistent writing.

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt1. here | pt.2 here | pt.3

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,494.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all that you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Welcome to the neighborhood

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22

Prompt: Santa

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Single Dad Steve; Single Dad Eddie; Steve is Dustin’s dad; Eddie is Max's dad; Neighbors; Christmas

Steve presses the doorbell for the third time, secretly wishing he'd put on his coat - or his outdoor shoes at least. Nobody has bothered removing the snow from the walkway leading up to the door, and it's seeping into his slippers and socks. 

“Maybe they aren't home,” Dustin says, voice slightly muffled from under his scarf. 

Steve scoffs, mentally cursing Carol for talking him into this. “I saw the car pull into the garage, they're here.” 

He's just trying to decide if he should rap his freezing knuckles against the milk glass pane or tell Carol to go fuck herself when the door swings open, revealing a girl around Dustin’s age. She's sporting a vicious scowl and a shock of violently orange hair. 

“Oh hi,” Steve says. “Are your parents home?” 

She gives them a long, pointed once over. Steve in his slippers and too-thin shirt and Dustin in his knitted Minecraft hat. 

Then, without turning, she hollers, “Dad! It's the hottie from across the street.” 

Somewhere in the house, somebody drops something. There's a barrage of swear words that makes Steve wanna cover Dustin’s ears, and then a whirlwind of black clothes and frizzy curls descends down the stairs and almost barrels into the stack of half unpacked boxes in the hallway. 

“Jesus Christ, Maxine! Sorry about that, I dunno what she's on about.” 

The girl rolls her eyes.

“You said it. Own it.” 

The man glares at her. She grins. 

“Hi,” Steve says again, bravely ignoring the heat rising under his collar. “Nice to meet you. I live-” 

“Across the street. She just said it,” Dustin provides helpfully. “Hi, I'm Dustin, this is my dad.” 

The girl gives him a lazy wave. “So, what do you do for fun around here, Dustin?” 

He shrugs. “I was about meet some friends, throw snowballs at cars. You wanna come?” 

“Ew, lame,” she says, grabbing her coat off another box. “Let's go.” 

Steve watches them disappear down the street, already deep in conversation about something or other.

“Well, then.” The other man extends his hand. It's adorned in clunky rings and covered in paint stains. “Do I get a proper introduction, or are we doing that thing where we refer to each other as Max's and Dustin’s Dad until it gets awkward, but by then we're too embarrassed to ask so we just skirt around it and say ‘hey, you’ for several years?” 

Steve is snorting a laugh before he remembers he's supposed to be mad. 

“Steve,” he says, taking the offered hand. It's pleasantly warm after the frosty air. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” 

“Steve,” the man repeats, and something about the way it rolls off his tongue makes a different kind of warmth settle in Steve’s chest. “Hi, I'm Eddie. What brings you here on this fine- oh shit, should I ask you to come inside? My kitchen is still very much a work in progress, but I got the coffee maker running yesterday, so I could fix us-” 

“It's fine,” Steve lies. He's starting to lose the feeling in his toes. “I just wanted to- … I'm here on behalf of the Home Owners’ Community.” 

Eddie tilts his head at him. “There's a Home Owners’ Community?” 

“Um, yes,” Steve says, raking a hand through snow-soaked hair. “Didn't you get our welcome pamphlet? It has this chees- … um, cheery picture on it. Happy family in their yard with their dog?” 

“Oh, that!” Eddie’s mouth goes round. “Yes, I got that. Threw it out. Looked culty to me.” 

Steve gawks at him. He smiles.

“Culty,” Steve repeats. He fucking told Carol the fucking photo was too much, but did she fucking listen to him? 

“Yup,” Eddie confirms cheerfully. “Why?” 

Steve laughs weakly. “Nothing, just- … I think that's pretty damn bold, coming from someone whose idea of a Christmas decoration is this!” 

Eddie follows his sweeping hand gesture to take in his own front lawn, like he's seeing it for the first time. The giant, inflatable Santa swaying cheerily in the snowy breeze. The grinning crowd of plastic skeletons dancing by its feet. Some have pitchforks. 

The whole spectacle is rounded off by a wooden sign, hand-painted in bright red letters. 

It reads HAIL SANTA. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You see, we didn’t get around to doing anything for Halloween this year, what with the move, and it's Max's favorite holiday, so-” 

“Yeah, great,” Steve says. “But the Homeowners’ Community has rules, and they clearly state that Christmas decorations must be-” 

Eddie pats his cheek. His hand is even warmer on Steve’s face than it was against his fingers. 

“But I'm not part of your little club, unfortunately.” His tone is all honest regret, but the quirk of his mouth and the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes tell a different story. “And I'm not gonna join, so there's nothing you can do to stop me. And if she has an issue with that, I suggest chairwoman Carol Hagan come over and say it to my face, instead of hiding behind your back. Not that I blame her. It's a nice back.” 

“But you said-” Steve sputters. “So you did read it!” 

“You should go home now,” Eddie says, not unkindly. “Don't wanna be seen getting friendly with the likes of me. Plus, you might lose a toe if you stay like that.” 

He nods down at Steve's soaked slippers - they may be unsalvageable by now - then starts to close the door in his face. 

“Wait,” Steve says. Eddie does, peering out from behind the door with large, hopeful eyes. “Does that offer for coffee still stand?” 

Eddie’s eyes light up. So do the led flames surrounding Santa's ghastly entourage. 

Carol can mind her own business, Steve decides. He'll get friendly with whoever the hell he pleases. 

More holiday drabbles

[niqhtlord01]

Interviews with the Mythical

Human Reporter: What do you mean you invented Christmas?

Vampire: I mean just that, we invented the entire thing up.

Human Reporter: But we have documents, records of-

Vampire: All fabricated during the 3rd century as you call it.

Human Reporter: But why would you do that?

Vampire: Long term plan to subvert the day Christ was born.

Vampire: We gathered and felt that if we could slowly subvert the holiday with something less Christian we could dilute the faithful.

Vampire: Eventually we took a step back and you humans corporatized the holiday all by yourself to the point many associate it with our “Saint Nic” over that zombie boy Jesus.

Human Reporter: How would you say that has played out?

Vampire: I watched a woman throw a child like a football all to get the last Christmas day sale Toaster.

Vampire: It’s going swimmingly. ------------------------

Shape shifter: Oh yes I knew him.

Human Reporter: You knew Vincent Van Gogh?

Shape Shifter: This will be a short interview if you continue to question everything I say.

Human Reporter: I was just surprised since you look so young.

Shape Shifter: Such things as aging function differently for us.

Shape Shifter:  We appear old because we wish to feel the ravages of time.

Shaper Shifter: We appear young because we wish to bask in the depravities of youth.

Human Reporter: So are you immortal like vampires?

Shaper Shifter: *scoffs

Shape Shifter: I wish they would stop referring to themselves like that; the arrogant bastards.

Shaper Shifter: Vampires age slowly, but they age all the same; and I’ve yet to meet one that didn’t find a stake through the heart a grievous inconvenience.

Human Reporter: You are dodging the question.

Shape Shifter: Because I don’t have an answer.

Shape Shifter: The only way I imagine I can die is if I change into something dead, but I have no idea what that feels like so in the back of my mind there will always be a part of me alive meaning I am never really dead.

Human Reporter: Sounds like a maddening state.

Shape Shifter: Gogh said the same thing before he asked to paint me in my natural state.

Human Reporter: Really? What was it like being in one of his paintings?

Shape Shifter: Let’s just say he wasn’t always paranoid. ---------------------------

Human Reporter: So you take being a wolf seriously.

Werewolf: So?

Human Reporter: I mean, really seriously.

Werewolf: What kind of stupid question is that?

Werewolf: You take being human pretty seriously for being a human.

Human Reporter: But that’s just it, you are half wolf and half human; but your more animalistic side seems to take more precedent.

Werewolf: *Snarls

Human Reporter: I mean from what we do know you still form packs and groups with other werewolves even when in human form, you organize yourself like a pack being led by an alpha, etc.

Werewolf: I see what you’re getting at.

Werewolf: The animal tendencies are more…overpowering than human ones.

Human Reporter: Aren’t they the same?

Werewolf: No, they’re not.

Human Reporter: Could you elaborate?

Werewolf: Do you want to leave with your head?

Human Reporter: Yes.

Werewolf: Than this interview is over. ----------------

 Human Reporter: Do you have a moment for an interview?

Sphinx: Only if you answer my riddle.

Sphinx: What walks on-

Human Reporter: The answer is man.

Sphinx: ……

Sphinx: I haven’t even finished.

Human Reporter: I mean…..it’s not exactly a secret riddle.

Sphinx: But how can you possibly know it?

Human Reporter: Oedipus recorded the answer after he solved it.

Sphinx: *Defeated sigh

Sphinx: I knew I should have just killed that little man.

Sphinx: What else did he write?

Human Reporter: That after he solved the riddle you were so distraught you flung yourself into the sea to commit suicide.

Sphinx: That lying sack of shit! --------------------

Human Reporter: So does your pumpkin rot and you need to collect new ones or is it just eternally ripe?

Headless Horseman: Through the pumpkin That is what you are opening with?

Human Reporter: Well I just wonder how that thing could be still fresh after almost 300 years.

Headless Horseman: *Tilts neck down to show severed neck muscles and spine

Headless Horseman: None of this is freaking you out?

Human Reporter: If I’m being truthful I did interview a zombie before meeting you and they also were missing a substantial amount of flesh.

Headless Horseman: Did you just fucking compare me to a zombie!?!

Human Report: You technically are undead in a sense.

Headless Horseman: They made a bloody movie about me! It had Johnny Depp and I was played by Christopher Walken!

Headless Horseman: They made a tv show about me!

Human Reporter: With respect they’ve made more shows about zombies.

Headless Horseman: *Storms off and kicks over a stack of boxes while swearing in german ----------------

Human Reporter: Thank you for your time.

Leprechaun:  Pay my fee, lest I shall flee.

Human Reporter: *Reaches into pocket and tosses three gold coins.

Leprechaun: *Catches coins, takes a bite on each, then pockets them.

Human Reporter: You’re the only creature I’ve met that’s actually charged for an interview.

Leprechaun: Fools and half-wits waste fortunes with words said free, but I’m neither lest I’m paid handsomely.

Human Reporter:  Bit of a rhyming theme going on I see; very poetic.

Leprechaun: Words and songs are my crafts by trade, but none still finer than my cobbler days.

Human Reporter: What makes Leprechaun gold more special than normal gold?

Leprechaun: A simple question gets a simple answer.

Leprechaun: No gold is finer than the ones I gather.

Leprechaun: Through trade and trick I make my wealth, and by deceit and death I keep it still.

Human Reporter: You’re saying you’ve had to kill to protect your gold?

Leprechaun: The penance is clear, there’s no debate.

Leprechaun: You take my gold, I take your life. ------------

Human Reporter: What is it like to be the neck tie for a god?

Nag Vasuki: You would mock an immortal being?

Human Reporter: Do you not coil yourself around the neck of the literal god of destruction?

Nag Vasuki: I do.

Human Report: Then that makes you a neck tie.

Nag Vasuki: *Lunges across table and bites reporter in the neck, delivering a lethal amount of poison before storming off to get a bagel. ---------------

Human Reporter: Why do you eat children?

Baba Yaga: Why does a raging river drown those lost within its grasp?

Human Reporter: Because a river is part of nature.

Baba Yaga: As am I.

Baba Yaga: There is nothing more unforgiving and unrelenting than that of nature, and in their youthful bliss many young find themselves lost within its tangled woods of thorn and wood.

Baba Yaga: I, like nature, stand at the gates of great change that children must face; be it for great joy or misery.

Human Reporter: Are you saying you eat children because they refused to adapt?

Baba Yaga: *chuckles

Baba Yaga: Only the unlucky ones. -------------------

Human Reporter: in hazmat suit Thank you for the interview.

Nuckelavee: Through the hanging mouth of a horse and its rider man Save your false gratitude.

Nuckelavee: I seek neither your accolades nor your ponderous questioning.

Human Reporter: Then why did you come at all?

Nuckelavee: For all of humanity to know that their end will soon be at hand, and it will be by my machinations shall you fall.

Human Reporter: Forgive me but you remind me of the four horseman.

Nuckelavee:  *laughs

Nuckelavee:  Ah yes, the fear of the southerners was so rich when they first laid eyes on me.

Nuckelavee: They had come to preach the word of their god, so it was only fitting I made them scream out to their savior as I peeled the flesh from their bones. The look of abandonment they gave was so amusing I allowed the last of them passage back to their stone temples.

Nuckelavee: So wrought with horror they were that when they scampered back their minds could not conceive such malevolence as a singular being.

Human Reporter: So you are claiming to be the inspiration for the four horsemen?

Nuckelavee: There can be no other.

Human Reporter: If that was the case are you not upset you were depicted as such?

Nuckelavee: In the end I shall feast on you all; what mind have I to care for such trivialities?

[demon-country]

I agree wholeheartedly with the vast majority of all of this, but I do have two small points of contention. 

1) I do think Stolas could have learned about the gravity of his classism if Blitz (or someone else he knew, like Millie or Moxxie) had sat him down and explained it calmly to him. He wants to learn, he's willing to learn, and he's been trying to learn, he just doesn't know how or where to even start looking for answers. He wasn't in a good state of mind to listen to it the three times it was brought up - first while being tortured by Striker, then while being yelled at by Blitz after getting triggered twice in quick succession, and then by Blitz again the very next morning when Stolas was still feeling raw and didn't want to talk yet in the first place. But you can tell from All 2 U that he understands that Blitz wouldn't keep bringing it up for no reason and there's something Stolas has been missing that genuinely hurt Blitz.

If, at that point, he had someone willing to actually teach him, I really do think he'd be receptive to it. Sure, he wouldn't be able to empathize with it, having never experienced it himself, but as long as someone is willing to truly put in the work of learning then they can be taught to understand the different facets of systemic oppression and unlearn their own biases and behaviors that contribute to it. Of course, you're right that that wouldn't be nearly as entertaining, and in any case Stolas did need to get out from the Goetia's clutches because they definitely make him worse on pretty much every level.

2) I'm really unsure where you got the idea that Stolas somehow doesn't know Moxxie and Millie, but there's only a 50% chance that Stolas was even taking about the rescue (or at least, was primarily talking about the rescue) anyway. It's equally as likely that he was instead referring to the aftermath. He said "you couldn't be bothered to come help me", not "you couldn't be bothered to come save me", and that's much broader. After all, Stolas did need help in the form of support after being tortured, and extended an invitation for Blitz to come see him during his extended hospital stay. Which was ignored without any contact at all afterward. Like, we know why Blitz didn't come (shame, guilt, then-unresolved trauma related to Fizz supposedly refusing to see him, etc), but since Stolas has no idea about any of that his feelings of abandonment are clear even at the end of Western Energy and they would've only grown the longer that Blitz ghosted him.

And even if he was talking about the rescue, I really don't think Stolas is ungrateful that Moxxie and Millie came to save him and stopped him from being mutilated just because they're not Blitz??? There was no reason for Stolas to bring them up in the garden. If he was just upset with Blitz about Blitz not coming to his rescue, then of course he's only going to address what he feels Blitz didn't do. He can be extremely thankful for what M&M did for him while still being upset with Blitz, they're not mutually exclusive by any means. Plus, he heard Moxxie on the phone, and there's really nothing that says Blitz was the one to send them when they just as easily could have them sent themselves.

In either case, Stolas was upset at a lot of different things - both old and new - by that point in the conversation, and lots of people say things they don't necessarily believe or phrase their words in a way that doesn't convey their full depth of feelings when they're upset. Like we can agree that what Blitz yelled at Stolas in The Full Moon was him lashing out with something he probably knows isn't entirely true but is still very hurt by anyway, right? It's the exact same thing Stolas did with that line. It was him lashing out, because he was upset and Blitz wouldn't stop pushing, and to Stolas' very recently traumatized mind what Blitz yelled at him the night before sounded too close what Striker had said so all his feelings surrounding his kidnapping were close to the surface.

Does Stolas deserve to lose everything?

The answer is a simple: No! Of course not!

What happened to Stolas in Mastermind was horrible, he essentially lost everything he ever knew in a very cruel and unusual way, and the real kicker is the fact that the punishment is rather light in comparison to the punishment Blitz would have gotten if he hadn't stepped in.

But why did it happen? Simple.

It happened for the sake of Stolas' future character development.

It didn't happen to "punish" Stolas when the man really only has the best of intentions.

Surprise! Surprise!

I want to highlight this specific statement Apology Tour's description states: Stolas still not being quite self aware enough at times.

Stolas genuinely does not know what is wrong between them, he genuinely can not understand the issues

If there is one thing Stolas has always wanted to know, it's the why...

Why is Blitz so guarded with me? Why does Blitz accuse me of looking down on him? Why does Blitz always mention my Princely status when talking about our relationship?

And here's the thing, even if Blitz were to sit Stolas down calmly and explain the why, Stolas will never get it. He will never understand it.

Stolas will never understand the struggles Blitz went through and still goes through just by living as an imp.

Blitz is an asshole, but you can't say he isn't determined.

When Blitz wants something so fucking bad, he'll get it, it doesn't matter who he needs to steal from, who he needs to fuck, who he needs to kill, lie, and cheat with... He's going to get it.

Blitz wants to be his own boss, he doesn't want to be like any other imp who works for someone else, so he'll do whatever it takes to make that dream a reality.

And the thing is Stolas wants to do better and understand Blitz's point of view... he states it time and time again.

Unless it's me And no matter what in this world I could give It's not enough To get through the walls you've conjured up to live

But maybe it's all on me For missin' every sign and every glance And every turn

Maybe there's somethin' here for us to glean For you to teach, and me to try to learn

~~~

The sad part is that Stolas is just going to have to learn it the hard way because where's the fun in just giving Stolas a book to read...

[ghastlyfilters]

random lost boys headcanons that i constantly think about!!

pairing(s): none!

warning(s): mentions of weed, religion, paul being a dirty little shit when it comes down to magazines

(here’s some random headcanons no one asked for but i literally think about these all the time and can’t get them out of my head. and yes, i know some bands and music artists mentioned in this were in their prime after the lost boys was set. but fuck it there’s no need to put dates on things when it’s all just for the sake of fictional writing. ALSO BONUS POINTS TO ANYONE WHO GETS THE OG BRANDON ROGERS REFERENCE IN THIS)

gifs not mine!! (if you know the original owner please tag them!!)

DAVID

• This man smokes like ten packs of cigarettes per day.

Think of a mukbang video but instead it’s just David smoking a shit ton of cigarettes packs.

Max has came to the conclusion that if David were not a vampire, he would in fact be a cancer patient.

• Him bullying someone is just his poor attempts at flirting.

• Makes multiple attempts at destroying Christmas decorations in every store he goes to during winter. When an employee looks in his direction upon hearing the crashing sound of tree baubles, he stares at them with that icy glare, looking personally offended that the employee is giving him the “Did you just do that..” look.

He’s a dumb shit that couldn’t care less what anyone else sees him doing. The employee could literally catch him smacking a glittery bauble off their mini Christmas tree with the back of his hand and he’ll glance over at them, blinking repeatedly.

“It was an accident.”

He’ll even turn to his mind control, allowing the employee to believe it was either Paul or Marko. It usually ends up being Marko, and he’s standing there biting the cuff of his jacket whilst getting the shittiest lecture from the store manager. Turns out poor Marko actually loves the place’s Christmas decorations.. despite being a bloodsucker that should resent anything to do with Christ. He just likes sparkly things.. ☹️

• David is so blunt to anyone who calls him self centred. He ain’t phased in the slightest bit by it. Marko’s said it on multiple occasions after an argument broke out between them all in the cave, and everyone was throwing digs. But the boys know David’s the most brutally honest being they’ve ever encountered.

“Who else am I supposed to be centred on?”

• He’s always dreamed of owning a black cat named Salem, but he knows the cat either won’t take to him being a vampire or the boys might accidentally forget it’s around and do something stupid.

(He really just wants one to sit on his lap whilst he’s in his wheelchair acting like Don fucking Corleone)

• Went through an identity crisis and forced himself to try and look like Billy Idol for a week. (That week turned into years)

• Dwayne’s still trying to convince him that bleaching his hair was a bad decision after a clump of it FELL OUT.

• If there’s ever a child crying on the boardwalk, David’s usually the reason they’re crying.

PAUL

• Is always the “C’mon everybody!!” person at the function. Yet when he runs off excitedly, no one follows.

• Never knows what to do in a chaotic situation because he’s that used to BEING the chaos.

• Cannot sit still for shit. He has to be fiddling with something or bouncing around the place like the madman he is.

• Paul’s a ride or die Mötley Crüe fan. He’s even lured some chicks on the boardwalk by playing Mötley on his boombox for them, feeding afterwards of course. (He’s the sneakiest little shit you’ll ever meet)

If he ever met a girl whom he fell for and eventually turned, his ideal date idea would be going on his motorcycle in the moonlit night and blasting “Kickstart My Heart” with his new partner riding along with him. He’s dreamt of it for years.

(Marko’s bound to third wheel though duh)

• He’s also got a thing for Alice In Chains, and he’s spent many drunk nights screaming the lyrics to “Bleed The Freak” outside the cave whilst meanwhile inside the boys sit in silence and are forced to listen to him.

• Paul barely sees girls with lip piercings but when he does holy fuck.

Just any kind of person who can pull off facial piercings is magical to him. Whether it be a few or a lot, he’s mesmerised by whatever kind of metal is in your face.

• Says “Pspsps..” to every kitty he sees on the boardwalk then screams the biggest “FUCK YOU!” if he witnesses the cat either pad over to someone else or look at him and run away.

• He’s always got a fucking rootbeer in his hand when he’s in the cave with the boys. Aside from blood, him and Marko live off of rootbeer. Ice. Cold. Rootbeer.

• Cherry Pie by Warrant is this man’s national anthem.

• Continuously has to find new weed dealers because if he has a bad argument with one of the boys, they’ll purposely hunt down his current dealer and drain every drop of blood from their body. This causes Paul to go apeshit because when he’s not out looking for prey or pissing people off on the boardwalk, you can bet his ass is in the cave stoned.

• On the topic of his severe weed habit, he’s not much of an edibles guy. He’d rather be sat on his ass smoking the fattest joint of his immortal existence and enjoying every minute of it. He’s occasionally gotten edibles for Marko, but Marko and gummies do not mix after the Frog Brothers started creeping around again.

• Has the biggest Playboy magazine stash that he hides underneath a pile of old denim and leather jackets in the cave. No one apart from Marko knows about them. Plus they’ve always been for.. special.. occasions..

Marko can’t help himself though and starts singing “In The Heat Of The Night” by Sandra when anyone innocently mentions magazines around Paul. This causes Paul to send his boot into Marko’s stomach whenever the boys are all assing around on the bridge, and he’s the first to fall.

“….. I’m telling David about your WET DREAMSSSSS.” Marko usually screams before disappearing into the fog below.

• Him and Marko don’t celebrate holidays unless it’s Halloween or Easter. They don’t give a fuck about the religious part when it comes down to Easter though. And if they wanted to, they couldn’t. They’re just there for the chocolate. They miss the taste of it. Paul will literally start fighting children during an Easter egg hunt on the boardwalk so he can get more for himself and Laddie.

(God help the children who push Laddie out of the way)

MARKO

• Goes into Claire’s Accessories and proceeds to tell the child who’s about to get their ears pierced how bad it should hurt.

(Also steals drip for himself because hello yes he does indeed fw a Sanrio earring set)

• He’s always the one who’ll make the most guttural moaning sounds if you’re on the phone to someone.

• Him and Paul are always found in the naughty section of Max’s video store.

• Whenever a fight breaks out on the boardwalk (that isn’t started by David or Paul for once) he doesn’t know what the fuck to do so he just starts screaming.

• Whenever one of the boys is hurt or sick (yes vampires get sick), Marko’s always the one who tends to them. He’s a massive over-thinker. David came down with something one time, and it was bad. Real bad. It was extremely rare, but it hit David like a freight train. Marko thought he walked in and found him in a state where he’d never wake up, so Max and the boys were left to deal with him bawling for the rest of the evening. Even David was confused when he awoke from his slumber.

• He has a bat plushie named Boris that Paul stole for him years ago. He gets caught chewing on the wings a lot but all in all he loves his Boris.

• Paul once traveled to LA and took him to one of those haunted house events for Halloween. They got kicked out and almost left their motorcycles because Marko starting punching multiple actors. It ended up in this big ass arguement because Paul swore for a moment he saw a glimpse of Marko’s fangs in the light and his eyes momentarily changed.

• The pigeons that flap around in the cave are like his pets. He’s down for just chilling with them and petting them if they let him.

Marko lowkey loves animals.

• He likes embracing his golden, curly locks. Aside from his fashion sense, he thinks his curls are really what gives him his image. He isn’t vain, but he does truly adore his little curls.

• Marko has such a soft spot for trad goths and their way of dressing. Whenever he sees one on the boardwalk, (which he hopes he will), he’s always fascinated by whatever outfit they have on. If they walk past him and the boys, he offers a shy smile. He wishes he could go start a conversation with them, but he thinks it’d be pretty dumb considering what his.. needs are. He doesn’t wanna kill people he thinks are cool.

DWAYNE

• Has the og resting bitch face.

• He wishes he could just stay silent and wonders why it’s not enough to just show up somewhere and have giant eyes.

• Dwayne used to get so many random people come up to him on the boardwalk and tell him how good he’d suit a black or brown eyeliner.

Since that day Dwayne has never forgotten those people and he always wears eyeliner inside and outside the cave.

• Major black coffee addict despite not even needing it.

• Whenever the likes of Paul and Marko actually try to engage in activities whilst on the boardwalk, some female will waltz up to Dwayne. Their approach and characteristics through their energy will allow him to of course decide what his next move is, but if it’s some yappy person who clearly has a horrible energy, Dwayne can be just as blunt as David is.

“How can I get to know you?”

…

“I don’t want to be known.”

And then he’ll walk away.

• This man is dedicated to leopard print. DEDICATED. In his mind him and the boys are living in some lavish mansion in 70s LA with leopard print plush sofas, leopard print pillows, leopard print bed sheets, literally everything leopard print.

If he had free rein to design the places he wanted to, he’d be ecstatic. (Literally all he wants is to turn Max’s house into a leopard print and cherry red museum.)

• When Dwayne actually smiles around people, it’s the sort of smile that can heal a thousand wounds. Like him coming out of his shell is the sweetest thing to witness.

• If the boys are off irritating the fuck out of people on the boardwalk instead of trying to find a good feed, Dwayne will occasionally sneak away and visit any sort of music store he can find. He could sit and yap to the people in there for days, and that’s really where he feels the most comfy around strangers. He loves talking to others about bands and artists like Judas Priest, Type O Negative, Rob Zombie, Pantera, Sisters of Mercy, Monster Magnet and Rammstein.

• The film The Crow ended up having a really special place in Dwayne’s heart. He loves playing little bits and pieces on his guitar for Laddie from Graeme Revell’s music from the soundtrack.

HII! if you have any lost boys requests send them in!! as you can tell, i really enjoy writing for all of them!! (i’ll write for honestly any lost boys character atp) <33

[rxmxa]

The Leo-Aquarius Axis Redefined pt. 2 ⚡ 🧪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Part One on the Leo-Aquarius Axis (Good to Read for Reference)

I was watching some intense video footage with my friend after something really brutal and chaotic happened in my neighborhood. Watching it alone was overwhelming because there was so much violence and chaos happening back to back. But then I re-watched it with my Aquarius stellium friend. And when I say stellium, I mean stellium. This girl is an Aquarius Sun, Mercury, Mars, Venus, Rising, with a Capricorn Moon and Uranus in the 10th house. She is genuinely the smartest person I know.

What I didn’t fully realize until that moment was just how good Aquarius energy is at processing information. Aquarius is an air sign, which means it thrives on mental challenges and intellectual stimulation. But it’s also fixed, which gives it a steady and sustained focus that doesn’t waver. Symbolically, Aquarius is the Water Bearer. It pours out knowledge, deep and distilled, offering it to the world. In moments of chaos, it feels like Aquarius processes everything at light speed, distills the important parts, and hands you the answers in such a breezy and nonchalant manner all like, “Oh, you didn’t notice that incredibly specific detail?”

While we were watching the footage, she kept pausing to point things out. She would say, “Look here, see his hand? Notice how he flinched.” Then she would rewind and say, “Listen again, did you hear what he said? He said ‘xyz.’” By the end of the night, mostly thanks to her, we had pieced together the timeline of what happened.

It was a heavy experience, but it also got me thinking about something I had written before about the Leo-Aquarius axis.

In that post, I said:

“If you are struggling to shine and develop your self-expression (Leo), look at the opposite of that (Aquarius), where you might need to release and let go of pressure. Especially internal pressure, since air sign energy is so connected to our thoughts and intellect. This sets the stage for success that feels aligned with your most genuine self.”

At the time, I was so focused on this idea of detachment leading to success that I wrote:

“The 11th house (Aquarius) rules your profits from your career, while the 5th house (Leo) rules your creativity and hobbies. Think about how many people have created art (5th house) without worrying about success or money, only to find widespread acclaim and rewards (11th house). In interviews, they always say, ‘I never imagined this would happen. I never imagined I would reach so many people.’ Why? Because they had detached. And that mindset can take you far.”

While that’s absolutely true, I realized I hadn’t fully considered the depth of this axis.

Aquarius isn’t just about letting go and hoping for the best. You don’t magically detach and suddenly see success show up in your Leo house.

Yes, you need to release expectations in your Aquarius house. But Aquarius isn’t about not caring. It’s about caring deeply for the process itself. It’s about learning for the sake of learning. Aquarius is the mad scientist energy, the inventor, the one who experiments and explores because it’s fascinating and because it feeds them.

Wherever Aquarius is in your chart, that’s where you need to step into that energy. It’s where you become the mad scientist, endlessly curious and driven to learn and discover. You absorb information, try new things, and gather knowledge for the sake of it. That process becomes the fuel that allows your Leo house to shine.

Aquarius prepares and strategizes, and Leo performs and shines. Success aligns when both energies are flowing together.

Aquarius builds the blueprint. It is the blueprint. Then Leo distributes it to the world. That’s where success or even monetization comes in. But it’s always at your pace, and always through doing what you love.

How I Applied This in My Own Life

This realization hit me on such a personal level because I have struggled with 6th house themes my entire life. My weight, my routines, building habits, staying consistent. etc. No matter how hard I tried to force structure into my day-to-day life, it just never clicked. I would start strong, burn out, and then spiral into frustration.

But when I stopped trying to force myself into systems that didn’t fit me and leaned into my Aquarius 12th house energy, everything shifted. I stopped seeing my habits as rigid checklists and started treating them like little experiments. I became curious, open to trial and error, and focused on the process instead of the outcome.

Suddenly, my 6th house started to thrive. My health (gut health, mental health, lost 15 pounds) improved, my daily routines felt sustainable (set boundaries at work), and consistency became something I didn’t have to force anymore. It became second nature to be this new version of me.

The Leo-Aquarius Axis Guide

Your Lab. Your Blueprint. Your Strategy.

This guide isn’t just theory to me. it’s something I’ve lived, tested, and refined. It breaks down the Leo-Aquarius axis house by house, with specific and detailed examples, actionable steps, and practical tips you can actually use.

If you’ve ever felt torn between wanting to shine like Leo and strategize like Aquarius, this guide will show you how to:

Identify your Aquarius Lab and your Leo Stage

Create a sustainable cycle of preparation (aqua) and performance (leo)

Use both energies to create confidence, clarity, and success

get the guide here: ✨ [Mastering the Leo-Aquarius Axis] ⚡ 🧪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I’ll be keeping it at 30% off for this week, and then on Sunday, December 29th, the price goes up! 💖

Tuning into this axis with my own chart was a game changer for me. I feel so much more secure in my body and mental health, all because I took that leap of faith and used my chart to uncover answers.

I poured so much care and detail into this guide, and I’m genuinely so excited to share it with you.

Con mucho amor, Ramona 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

[atoriv-art]

what are your thoughts on the hyuga siblings and their relationship

OOF now thats one of my favorite naruto dynamics lmao. i think neji and hinata have a very interesting relationship and i say that as someone who really didn't (and tbh still doesn't) love how that relationship developed in canon

i really like the hyuga fight in the chunin exams because the way it's perceived is sooo interesting to me.. neji comes off as an outright bully and i don't even blame the kids for calling him an asshole after all of that, but from reader's perspective it's really obvious that his animosity only exists because of a larger issue...

neji shouldn't treat hinata the way he does, but he does so because of her unique position as a scorned heir. she still benefits from everything that makes his life awful - her life is still valued more than his - but hiashi hates her enough that he won't care if neji dishes out verbal abuse on her. it's an awful dynamic and definitely contributes to hinata's terrible self-worth, but it's a symptom of the life they have been forced into by the man who the manga is intent on letting escape all of the blame for this situation lmao

(hiashi himself can be a really fascinating case honestly. i think he fully means everything he says, which is what makes him so grating but fun to me LOL. his apology to neji is entirely sincere AND it completely misses the point of all of the issues, but neji is young and deprived of acknowledgement enough that he accepts it wholeheartedly. hiashi thinks he's the best uncle of all time.)

hinata herself has so little belief in her own worth that she just sits there and takes whatever abuse people throw at her... i don't actually think neji's anger towards her was a constant - i think some people interpret it that way - rather i feel like it was something that came up whenever he was pushed too far. in more normal circumstances where he's not being made to fight her directly, he was likely more detached than anything. he wanted nothing to do with her.

in one of the filler mini arcs ive mentioned before (i think. the one that focuses on hanabi and hinata) there's a scene that rang very true to me (and im gonna recount this without rewatching it atm so sorry if i get details wrong,): neji was being made to train with hinata, asked to be allowed to leave because he felt his time was being wasted and correctly noted that it doesn't have to be him here, was told no by hiashi and then he started getting vicious and violent. towards hinata, of course, not hiashi. he then got horribly punished for it LOL i think that's the general dynamic they were living in, neji reaches a limit of disrespect that he can take and explodes on the nearest most acceptable target (we loove a boy with no emotional regulation <3), goes too far and suffers the consequence of it while nothing else changes. to him interacting with hinata at all is just asking for pain, either emotional or straight up physical

But, for hinata, she saw herself and neji as similar (the black sheep of the family i suppose), and would have liked to bond over that fact; theyve known each other since they were very little and she outright refers to him as a brother. it's clear to me she's always cared a lot about neji and imo feels responsible for what happened to his father (something that hiashi doesn't help with. Dad of the year), so she saw their match in the exams as a chance to close the distance between them and get neji to see her as a person, an equal instead of a symbol to lash out on.

but, you know, she was 12 LMAO so she ended up pressing all of his buttons instead and it led to his famous outburst, which led to the famous moment of Every Single Jonin (other than asuma.) coming to stop him and further cementing his belief that her life is seen as special. i think (and this is a mix of Shit I Made up, and Me trying to make sense of the manga's insane mishandling of their plotline) that despite her trying her hardest to reach neji she didn't really grasp the horror of his situation. that's the tragedy of neji's life really LMAO, no one really tries to grapple with the severity of what having that curse mark does to a person. she thought of his fatalism as more of a psychological, metaphorical way of dealing with hurt and not like... "my life literally does not belong to me no matter how much i try to fight it"

this is loooooong take this readmore.

i think hiashi-hizashi were hoping that the cousins could have had a better relationship than they did... letting them hang out often and stuff, introducing them early, hizashi not discouraging neji from being friendly with her, to me it all reads as very "ok well this didn't work for Us, but what if it works out for them... even though literally nothing has changed". they were proper family once and hizashi wanted to die for his brother, not his leader, so that just makes sense to me.

i do nautttt like the naruto vs neji fight so to keep the post positive i will gloss over it <3 but hinata and neji's relationship post-chunin exams to me is peak like. God i wish this was done better because it could have been soooo good

neji realizes that his anger is consuming him and adjusts his behavior accordingly, getting a lot of his kindness back, and he becomes intent on fixing his relationship with hinata... i don't hate that premise at all, it's just the way it's executed that bothers me!

the impression i got (and i could be mistaken im in the process of rewatching the anime + rereading the manga) is that their relationship getting better is done exclusively through like. neji repenting for being mean to her. which, don't get me wrong, he SHOULD apologize (AND THAT WOULDVE BEEN A COOL THING TO SEE ONSCREEN, BTW) but you CANNOT divorce his behavior from the hyuga system in general. from the way they act after the exams you would think their issues were born solely from neji being a bully for no reason, and not, like... him lashing out on her because his uncle is literally the devil.

i don't think hinata has the power to change a lot in her clan on short notice (she did get disowned. did that un-happen offscreen? we will never know. Hiashi gets to be a grandfather to her children btw.) but i certainly would have liked to see her standing up for branch members and in the stuff i draw that's the story i have in mind LMAO. like, her gaining a deeper understanding of neji's situation and trying to work against her father trying to make her cousin's life better? i think that would have been really sweet and even show her gaining more confidence in herself and her beliefs. you can still have neji fussing over her and being protective because he feels bad for how they used to be, i actually really like that because neji IS a very sweet person, i just reject the idea that it's his sole Moral Obligation to put everything aside and make things better by the power of I Will Die For You Now, But This Time, For The Right Reasons

as for hanabi i wish she had more screentime soooo bad because i'm obsessed with how she gives off Haunted Child vibes lmfao. talking abt her requires me to expose myself a little bit and have to admit hiashi is kind of a blorbo to me because of how much he sucks ass, but like. Essentially his insane resentment of hinata was born when hizashi died, it doesnt matter it wasn't really her fault, he needed someone to blame and he would never blame himself, at least not outwardly lol. hiashi did genuinely love his brother, it just didn't stop him from being a monster to him, and he is certainly not gonna grapple with that now that he's dead!

(and, you know, the whole "sorry we sent a guy to kidnap an heir. you do need to die for killing him though" thing is really dumb but if we stop at every single stupid thing in naruto we will be here all day.)

with all that being said i think hiashi tries his best to make hanabi everything hinata isn't, and he has very little interest in having her and hinata have any bond at all. he just left neji and hinata to fester in that god-awful dynamic with no supervising, and took hanabi as the best direction for the clan to head towards. but, you know, father of the year is very demanding and doesn't seem to be very fatherly to her at all from the little we see of them. she's just like. a good soldier, and that's what he needs.

i think hanabi growing to resent her sister for the situation she's been put into (if hinata weren't 'weak' she wouldn't have so much responsibility) is very interesting! by the time we meet her i think she's learned that the best thing to do wrt her sister is to just ignore that she exists. as for neji he barely registers as a presence to her; neji has no reason to interact with her and hiashi has no reason to incentivize it. it's very fun to me!

in general i really like all of their dynamics can be used to explore how hurt and trauma drive people apart, i could talk about them for hourssss LMAO i love the suna family for the same reason!

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

So, obviously, everyone has their own opinion and experience. How much Andrastianism in Veilguard is to your personal taste I couldn’t say. But based on your statements, I feel like we’ve played not just one but possibly several different games despite them having the same names.

Andrastianism isn’t “absent everywhere,” whether in plot, imagery, or even audio. As you yourself said, we go to the Temple of Andraste in Minrathous where people are both milling about and praying both inside and outside. So we see the Andrastianism happening, visually. And there is, contrary to your experience, ambient dialogue from NPCs we pass that reference the Maker (Andraste I believe as well, but I’d have to double-check that, and less reference to her would be expected as a schism over her importance is part of why the Northern and Southern Chantries split) both near the Temple and in other parts of Dock Town.

We also, in Minrathous with Neve, visit the Wall of Light, the city’s memorial for the dead and an explicit reference to the Chant of Light. Something of enough significance to Neve that she feels the need to go there before the end of her quest line. A Shadow Dragon Rook can even speak the traditional words of remembrance at that point. It’s fairly explicit Andrastianism. Different than it would look and be done in Ferelden, but that’s because we aren’t in Ferelden we’re in Tevinter.

I’m not entirely sure what the mixture of Northern to Southern Wardens would be at Weisshaupt, and I’m less certain than you are that Southerners would have a significant presence. Orlais’ Wardens were decimated at Adamant and may have even been disbanded at that time (dependent on player choice). Their numbers suffered regardless, and would have been hard to build back up since it has apparently gotten around that they tried to build a demon army (which is why in Veilguard the First Warden is so quick to throw them under the bus). Ferelden didn’t have any wardens to speak of until a cup of coffee before the Fifth Blight, as we see in Origins. And at the end of that blight had one or two. After Awakening maybe six? But there’s a bunch of conditional stuff to even hit that number, if I remember correctly. They’ve had some time to build up since then, but we don’t know how many went down from Ferelden at Adamant and Ferelden’s Wardens also don’t have spotless reputations due to the whole coup thing.

In any case, I agree that there probably are some devout Andrastians in the Wardens. But I think devout Southern Andrastian wardens - those whose Andrastianism we would recognize - are probably a very, very small minority. Not only for the reasons I already gave, but because they are competing with religious military orders that can recruit soldiers as children while generally only recruiting adults. I’m not surprised, since based on what we know their numbers are fairly small, we don’t personally run across a bunch of vocal devout Andrastian Southerners at Weisshaupt.

The people of the Anderfels are devoutly Andrastian, you’re absolutely right. But we don’t meet nearly any of them. Our only exposure to the region is through working with the Wardens in a fortress that is Wardens Only tm and in a town that has been so overrun with blight that nearly all of its inhabitants are gone. I’d be more inclined to agree with you, solely vis-a-vis the people of the Anderfels, if we interacted with more than a handful. But we don’t, we pretty much just interact with the Wardens which I already discussed above.

What you didn’t mention were Treviso and the Necropolis. We do get ambient dialogue in Treviso explicitly referencing both the Maker and Andraste (sometimes to blaspheme, but that was probably more than half the Andrastianism we got in DA2, too). Lucanis references them, and talks about having lost his faith while imprisoned and tortured (and reaching a state of hopeful agnosticism by later in the game which he is also open about). He has statues of Andraste in his house. It’s part of his character arc, even if it’s not the main focus.

The Mourn Watch is an Andrastian religious order. Their whole deal, different though it is to what we see in the South, is them being devoutly Andrastian. Just Nevarra mortalitasi-style. And we go through and attend to religious rites in that style with Emmrich.

We witness the results of slaughter by the Southern Chantry in a quest in Rivain.

Harding at one point straight up asks if we just disproved the Chant of Light.

Religion is discussed, where relevant, multiple times. (See, e.g., all of the above.)

Is it enough Andrastianism for you, or any individual player, personally? Maybe not. That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel that way. Everyone is entitled to their opinion.

Is it not there or in someway incorrect based on the lore of the game? I have a hard time understanding that argument.

I really don’t understand the criticism that Veilguard doesn’t include enough open, devout Andrastianism. Like, it just perplexes me?

Unlike the first three games, which take place in Southern Thedas (the purview of the Orlesian Chantry, the Sunburst throne), Veilguard takes place almost entirely in Northern Thedas. And it’s clear the Chantry’s role there is very different than in the South.

In Southern Thedas, the Chantry is a power unto itself. The Southern Divine, holder of the Sunburst Throne, occupies a place of real significance and power. She has her own militarized forces (the Templar and Seeker Orders). She politically has to interface with the rulers of the various places in Southern Thedas (Orlais, Ferelden, the Free Marches, etc.), but is not formally associated with or dependent on them. The South is comparatively poorer than the North, and we see a majority of services (taking care of orphans, medical care, the Circles, and very significantly education) being taken care of by the Chantry without necessarily much assistance from the relevant countries.

The Southern Chantry is an ever present figure in Southern Thedas, even for those that aren’t devout. And that is reflected in those stories and the cultures we learn about there.

The Tevinter Imperium is not like that. And that’s not terribly surprising. First, the Imperium pre-dates Andrastianism. They have another, older religion that helped form some of their cultural touchpoints. The Imperium did adopt Andrastianism, but did so as a consolidation of empire (which tracks with the Imperium being, in no small part, a reflection of the real life Roman Empire). As such, the Chantry is folded into and subordinate to the Imperium’s government. The real power in Tevinter, and control over the incidents of daily life that we see the Southern Chantry involved in, is the Magisterium and the Archon.

The Imperial Divine doesn’t control the Templars, the Magisterium and Archon do. He doesn’t control the Circles/education. That’s the Magisterium and Archon again. He is, in practical terms, less powerful than Dorian. He can’t make any real change as the Imperial Divine, so he dons a mask and runs a vigilante group to free slaves and make change that way.

The Northern Chantry simply isn’t as omnipresent as the Southern Chantry in the areas it exists, and it competes with a preexisting cultural backbone in a way the Southern Chantry doesn’t (because it largely stamped that out, though some of the Avvar and Chasind are still around).

I think a lot of people are comparing the impact of Andrastianism in Veilguard to that in Inquisition, because it’s the most recent, and the criticism spawns from that. But that…doesn’t make sense. The Inquisitor is leading a religious organization, ultimately affiliated with the Southern Chantry itself and founded by the left and right hands of the former Divine. It claims its legitimacy from Andraste herself (even if the Inquisitor doesn’t believe a single bit of it). The people who join the Inquisition are all okay enough with Andrastianism to affiliate themselves openly with it (Solas aside, but of course he has other reasons), and many are devout.

The Veilguard are just…random people. Skilled, powerful, talented people, but not people with any real affiliation with any Chantry. Davrin and Bellara have complicated relationships with the Dalish religion they grew up with, for obvious reasons, but they weren’t raised in Andrastianism or an Andrastian culture. Neve, per her, “barely keeps the holidays.” Her relationship to Andrastianism seems closer to the average non-church-attending American who celebrates Christmas and Easter, but isn’t particularly Christian beyond that. Lucanis does seem open to belief in the Maker and Andraste, but isn’t kind of ambivalent to it. More agnostic than anything else. Taash wasn’t raised Andrastian, their mom largely still embraces much of the Qun even if she left, and Rivain was always kind of religiously funky anyway. Only Emmrich and Harding are particularly Andrastian, and even then Emmrich is from Nevarra which although deeply Andrastian is unique. Harding is the only companion whose Andrastianism we’d recognize from the prior games.

So in a game set in a region where Andrastianism is culturally less of an influence, where the Chantry holds far less power, and that has companions that aren’t devout Andrastians…how is it a failure of the game that it isn’t brought up more. That makes sense. It’s consistent with the world building that came before it and the continued reveal of that world in game.

I don’t get it.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

So, apparently my crush on James reached the stage when just reading stories isn’t enough, I have to start requesting them)))

Black album James x ballerina reader (pretty please smut), where he’s just obsessed with their size difference and the fact that she’s very flexible? Like she pretty much drowns in his shirts, her hands are fragile compared to his, etc? one day, he comes to hotel after sound check and sees her doing her stretches in his shirt and her pointe shoes and that’s too much for him? He just has to make love to her? Maybe he is making references to Beaty and the beast ballet? Like James, the beast (metal band, rough guy, always grumpy) finally captured his beauty and will not let her go?

Thank you))

I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: Explicit Content,Adult Themes, Sexual Content light Possessiveness, Physical Intimacy

___________

In the Arms of the Beast

I didn’t hear the door open—I was too lost in my stretches, the slow pull of muscles and the grounding rhythm of my breath keeping me focused. The air in the hotel room was still, save for the faint rustle of fabric as I moved. James’s shirt, massive on me, slipped over one shoulder as I bent forward, palms flat against the floor.

The shirt smelled like him—leather, a touch of smoke, and something warm I could never quite name. It made me feel wrapped in him, even when he wasn’t here.

I was midway through a stretch, my legs extended in a perfect split, when a familiar growl broke the silence.

“You trying to kill me, darlin’?”

I jerked upright, my heart skipping a beat. Turning my head, I found him standing there, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His boots were still on, his hair slightly mussed from the day’s soundcheck, and his eyes… Oh, God, his eyes. They were locked on me like a predator that had found its prey.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He didn’t move, just stood there, drinking me in. His gaze traveled slowly, lingering on my legs, then the shirt that barely reached the tops of my thighs. His expression darkened, his lips curling into a crooked grin that sent a shiver down my spine. “Hell of a sight to walk into.”

Heat flooded my face, and I tried to play it off, standing and brushing down the oversized shirt. “I was just stretching.”

“Stretching,” he repeated, his voice low and rough, like gravel under heavy boots. He finally moved, stepping closer, and my pulse quickened. “You look like you’re dancing for me.”

I laughed nervously, though his intensity made it hard to breathe. “It’s not like that.”

But he was already closing the distance, his big hands finding my waist. His palms were rough against my skin, but his touch was gentle, reverent even. “You’re drowning in this shirt,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over the fabric. “Look at you. So damn tiny.”

My hands instinctively rested on his forearms, the contrast between us impossible to ignore. His arms were solid, his muscles thick and corded under my fingers. Next to his, my hands looked fragile, almost doll-like. He noticed it too, his gaze dropping to where I touched him, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but loaded with something raw. “Like somethin’ out of a story. Beauty and the Beast.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, his hand slid up, tilting my chin so I was looking right into those piercing eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, warm and commanding. The kiss stole my breath, every bit of him consuming me in the best way.

His hands moved, gripping my hips as he pulled me against him. “Mine,” he growled against my lips. The word sent a thrill down my spine. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

My heart pounded as I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed like I weighed nothing at all. His shirt rode up as he laid me down, exposing my bare legs and the ribbons of my pointe shoes.

He paused, hovering over me, his eyes dark with hunger. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“James…” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desire.

His hands were everywhere—exploring, testing. He bent my leg, his touch slow and deliberate, as though marveling at my flexibility. His grin turned wicked as I arched beneath him, a soft gasp slipping from my lips.

“Shh, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, sending a jolt of heat through me, and then his tongue followed, soothing the spot. “Let me take care of you.”

James’s hands slid under the oversized shirt I wore, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His eyes darkened as he glanced up at me, a low growl escaping his throat.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good in this shirt. But it’s in the way,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I need to see you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I lifted my arms as he tugged the shirt up and over my head, throwing it to the side without a second thought. I was left exposed before him, my skin flushed and my breath shallow as he took in the sight of me, his gaze almost possessive.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands traced down my arms, over my shoulders, and to the curve of my waist. His touch was like fire, leaving me aching for more.

His lips trailed along my neck, his breath hot against my skin, before moving lower, over my collarbone. As his hands gently cupped my breasts, I gasped at the feeling of his thumbs brushing over my nipples, hardening at his touch.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his mouth descending further, kissing along the top of my chest before moving to one nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hardened peak, sending a shiver through me.

I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on me, his beard brushing against my skin in a way that made my entire body hum with pleasure. The sensation was both tender and intense, and I couldn't help but moan softly, feeling my body come alive under his touch.

But it was the way his hands moved, the way his fingers lightly traced the curve of my hips, that drove me wild. The gentleness with which he treated me, as though I were something precious, only added to the fire building inside.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling. It was a plea, though I didn’t know for what exactly, only that I needed him to make me feel.

With a soft chuckle, he pulled away for a moment, eyes dark with desire. "You’re so eager, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere. Just need to take my time with you."

His words, those quiet promises of patience, set my heart racing. Slowly, he lowered his body, kissing his way down my chest, over my stomach, and further still, until he hovered between my legs.

His eyes locked with mine, filled with a heat that made my breath catch. "Let me taste you, baby," he whispered, his voice hushed, reverent.

The words, the way he said them, stirred something deep within me. I parted my legs slightly, giving him the space he needed, feeling my pulse quicken with every inch closer he came.

 Suddenly, he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the cool wall, enveloping me with his warmth. I  felt my heart beating faster, his strong frame looming over me in a possessive yet gentle way. The heat of his body radiated against mine, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a thrill through me. "I couldn’t resist. You’re just too tempting right now."

“Maybe I wanted you to,” I whispered back, feeling bold, excitement dancing in my chest.

Before I could respond further, he leaned in, capturing my mouth with his. His kiss was electrifying—hunger mixed with tenderness—as he poured his desires into the moment. I melted into him, my hands instinctively sliding into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to explore.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jawline and down to my neck, where he lingered, his breath hot against my skin. I gasped, tilting my head back, giving him better access. “God, you taste so good,” he breathed against my collarbone.

“Then don’t stop,” I urged, shivering at his words.

As if sensing my need, he slowly sank to his knees in front of me, his eyes smoldering with intensity. I felt vulnerable yet safe under his gaze, my body aching for him.

“Please, James,” I begged softly, my voice barely above a whisper, my fingers curling tighter in his hair, a mixture of desperation and exhilaration coursing through me.

With a smirk, he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against my core. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. And then he buried his face between my thighs.

The sensation was overwhelming—his tongue skillfully teasing me as he explored every inch of my softness. I gasped, the pleasure sending jolts of electricity coursing through me. I couldn’t help but rock my hips closer, urging him on, craving every pleasurable flick.

“James,” I moaned, the sound of his name spilling from my lips like a sweet invitation. His smirk against me made my heart race even faster.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmured, pausing briefly. The wicked look in his eyes only fueled my desire.

“More than you can imagine,” I breathed, arching my back, desperate for more. “Don’t stop, please…”

As he continued, I felt myself teetering on the edge, every flick of his tongue driving me closer. “You’re so good at this,” I panted, lost in the moment. “You know how much I crave this.”

“Only the best for you,” he replied between teasing kisses, his voice low and sultry. He paused and gave me a look filled with heat. “You deserve to be spoiled, babe.”

With my hands gripping his hair tighter, I pulled him closer. “Then spoil me.”

He was relentless, his mouth devouring me in a way that sent shockwaves through my body. “You’re delicious,” he said, a hint of possessiveness lacing his words. “I could stay here all night.”

“God, James,” I gasped, feeling another wave of pleasure building inside me. “I’m—”

He cut me off with a hard, swift move, pushing me over the edge, and I cried out in ecstasy. Colors exploded behind my eyelids as waves of bliss washed over me.

When I finally came down from my high, he stood, brushing his lips against mine with a possessive smirk. “You okay?” he asked, concern mingling with the raw desire in his eyes.

“Better than okay,” I whispered, feeling electric currents still dancing through my body. “Now I want you.”

His brow arched playfully, desires swirling like a tempest in his eyes. “You think you can handle me?” he teased, leaning closer.

I smirked back, feeling daring. “I’ve handled you before, haven’t I?”

“Touché,” he said with a chuckle, but his expression turned serious. “You ready for this?”

“Always,” I assured him, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

With a single motion, he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around him as he pressed me against the wall. I could feel him, hard and ready, throbbing against my core, and the intensity made my breath quicken. “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice thick with need.

“Only for you,” I breathed. “Always for you.”

He grinned wickedly, his breath ghosting across my ear. “Then let’s see how much you can take.” With that, he sank into me in one smooth motion, and I gasped as he filled me completely.

“God, yes,” I breathed, losing myself in the sensation. “You feel incredible.”

“Damn right I do,” he growled, driving deeper. “And you’re mine.”

The rhythm of our bodies colliding filled the air, the sound a symphony of passion and urgency. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demanded, his eyes locked onto mine. I nodded, surrendering completely to him, my heart racing as I matched his intensity.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he urged, his breath ragged.

“James, it feels—oh god, it feels amazing,” I moaned, my body arching against his. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That's right, baby. I want to hear you say it. I want you to remember how good I make you feel,” he said, his voice low and dark, sending shivers up my spine.

“James, you make me feel so good,” I whimpered, desperate for him. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, igniting flames of pleasure that threatened to consume me. The heat between us crackled, the world beyond us fading to nothing as we lost ourselves in each other.

“C’mon, babe. Let it go for me,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he picked up the pace, the need pushing both of us toward the brink.

“James, I’m so close,” I gasped, urgency flooding my voice.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded, thrusting harder, each movement focused solely on driving me to that sweet release. I could feel myself slipping, my breath hitching.

With one final deep thrust, I came undone, a wave of pleasure crashing over me, drawing out a desperate cry that echoed in the room. I felt him surge with me, his grip tightening as he lost himself inside me, his own moans harmonizing with mine.

In the aftermath, as our breaths mingled, he cradled my face in his hands, his touch gentle amidst the overwhelming intensity. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his eyes softening as they bore into mine.

I smiled, relishing the aftermath of our passion. “So are you,” I replied, my fingers trailing along his jaw. “You always know how to make me feel amazing.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “And I’ll keep making you feel that way, because you deserve it.”

With a warmth filling my chest, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his once more, feeling grateful for this moment and the man who held me so tenderly yet fiercely. In James’ arms, I knew I had found something extraordinary.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Rip And Tear - Xilonen & Chasca x Male!Doom!Reader

A/N: Alright, here's something inspired by Doom. It doesn't include specific references, and is based on the human version of Doomguy (pre DOOM 2016). If you like it and want to see more of this idea, the asks are open. Enjoy! CW: Violence, established relationship, some made up lore to flesh out the Reader. I'm honestly not sure what genre this is.

“They are rage, brutal, without mercy. But you… You will be worse. Rip and tear, until it is done.” - Xbalanque, The First Pyro Archon

“In the first age, in the first battle, when the shadows first lengthened, one stood. Burned by the embers of war, his soul blistered by the fires of Abyss and tainted beyond ascension, he chose the path of perpetual torment. In his ravenous hatred he found no peace; and with boiling blood he scoured the Abyssal Void seeking vengeance against the dark lords who had wronged him. He bore the ancient name of Natlan, and those that tasted the bite of his sword named him Askari. Though his body fell, consumed by the eternal fires of conflict, he rages on through each that bears his name.” - Tablet of Tona, Third Cycle, Passage CLXXIV

Xilonen

Every time the nation of Pyro goes to war, a new Askari is selected from the tribes by the unified will of all six Wayob. The legends say that this man, worthy of carrying the name, will not seek it or desire it, but will bear it until his role is done. He shall never grow old, they say, as he will meet a glorious death. Then, his successor will be selected should the need arise. 

As for Xilonen? She is not happy with it, by any meaning of the word. Of course it is her husband that happens to be the tormented, death-destined slayer. That’s just how life is going to treat her, huh?

First it was the massive abyssal invasion, one unlike any other in the previous century. She was one of the first to be evacuated from the Children of the Echoes, as her skills - no matter her combat prowess - were too valuable to put on the line. As such, she spent most of the conflict in the Stadium’s forge, crafting weapons at inhuman speeds for the ever dwindling defenders. The moments when she was allowed to leave its safety were anything but a break, as were her nights. She tossed and turned restlessly in the empty bed, worrying about you. Her family was safe, but you were not. There was no news of your fate. But Xilonen never assumed you were dead - you were strong, yes, you couldn’t have died so easily. If she only wasn’t so crucial to everything! She swore, looking out the window towards her overran home, that she would turn the world upside down to find you when it was all over. But fate had other plans. 

The war wasn’t over yet when she was taking a breather near the entrance, subconsciously scanning for any familiar faces amongst the constant inwards flow of ragged, scared refugees. At some point, the crowd started parting to make way for someone. Curious, Xilonen peeked out - only to see you. You, her beloved, her second half, covered in black blood and corrupted goo. Head to toe in armor unfamiliar to her, in one hand you carried your helmet and in the other, much to her horror… the obsidian shard with ASKR inscribed in runes. 

She froze. This was not happening. It took an entire day and a terrible hangover afterwards to come to terms with what just occurred. In one moment, you were fine. You were back. In the very next second, you were dead. Your fate was sealed by the name you were given. No matter how hard she would try, you wouldn’t be able to grow old with her. Before a single hair grayed on your head, you would scamper off to some dank hole and throw yourself at some gross monster just to die and leave her a broken-hearted widow, and your children fatherless orphans. For the first time in a long while, Xilonen was at a loss for words. The only things she could do, after countless rounds and hours of anger at the gods, she could only curl up and cry. 

Once the emotions passed, and alongside with them the war, the mood was bittersweet when she embraced you. You were alright. You wouldn’t die just yet. Then, she promised that no matter what the world was to throw at you, you wouldn’t shed a drop of blood until the prophecy demanded it of you. And she intends to hold that word to this very day. 

Now that the war is over, Xilonen is your primary arms dealer. No matter how tired she is, she puts even a little work into a new weapon or a new equipment piece for you every day. She has the freedom to do so, as Mauvika is obliged to foot the bill for the Warrior’s needs. Xilonen made sure to analyse your armor, finding that it was the same exact set worn by one of the ancient Askari - his spirit led you to it, no doubt about that. Though it’s mostly alien to her, a remnant of draconic technology of old, she does try to not only fix it, but improve it as well. So far, she is quite successful. Whenever you go out, expect to have your equipment fixed up, cleaned, sharpened and polished to perfection. 

Even if you find that too much, Xilonen will turn your refusal down. It’s not only her job as the Name Forger to care for the Askari’s gear, but she is also obliged to look out for you as your wife. It’s the least she can do for you. 

She can’t help you on your quest, as most of it is secretly planned by Mauvika so the information remains clandestine, and she absolutely cannot match you in combat. Xilonen is a good fighter, as every name bearer in Natlan, but you are several grades above her. Hell, you could even go head to head with Mauvika should the need arise - after all, one of the Askaris is famous for killing a Pyro Archon when he turned malevolent and embarked on a path of oppression. She saw you wield both blade and gun with repulsive efficiency…

Repulsive, as Xilonen dislikes gore. Yes, she is aware that it lies amongst the methods of Askari, and yes, she knows that it is very efficient at routing monsters, but it’s so spine chilling to watch you rip your enemies apart. She read about the terrible strength of your predecessors, she saw the murals, but nothing could compare to the sight and the sheer brutal efficiency of your massacres. Because that is the only word to describe most of your encounters with both monsters and humans. After a few brief moments, all that is left of them is a pile of mangled bodies and the sickening stench of iron in the air. 

Luckily, she sees it quite rarely. Nobody sane in Natlan dares to stand in your way - after all, no man or woman would like to have their head skewered with their broken radius, so it's clueless and arrogant Fatui that end up on the wrong end of your weapon. Hilichurls, especially stronger ones, are often too limited in their minds to appreciate just what will happen to them if they come too close to you.

Xilonen thanks Xbalanque each day that your Ancient Name does not corrupt your mind. With just how coldly ruthless you are in combat, you would think an Askari unable to feel or love. But you are still the same man she fell for - just with a tougher look and more blood on his hands. 

Your wife feels incredibly safe in your arms. She knows that you would never raise a hand on somebody undeserving of retribution. Your divine muscles, gained thanks to the supernatural power of the Name, makes you a perfect pillow. Be ready to be her headrest - Xilonen has limited time with you, and she aims to make the most of it. She already started preparing a children’s room for your heirs. It’s best to start as soon as possible so they get many fond memories with their father before he inevitably gives his life for her, them and all of Natlan. 

Chasca

Her role as a peacekeeper didn’t really exist as a separate profession in the ancient times. Most of it was done by the chiefs and their loyal entourage of warriors, but when the population grew and the tribes expanded into more complex structures, that wasn’t sufficient. In recent years, it has been even harder to maintain order as a long period of peace, and the absence of an Askari to be wary of, brough the people of Natlan further apart from each other. But not anymore.

It happened in the middle of the invasion. Buildings of the Flower Feather Clan were burning with unnatural, purple flames. Dark ooze was leaking from several Abyss portals, constantly spewing new monsters. Her fellow defenders were fighting bravely, but at that point corrosion and simple, human exhaustion started to set it. She watched as they dwindled in number, falling to blows of clubs and axes, others being torn to pieces by jagged, corrupted fangs of Rifthounds. You have long vanished from her sight, and in the midst of combat, she assumed you died as well, and realized that she was soon to follow. In her mind, it was the end. The end of her tribe, her family and herself. Her human parents, Chuychu, you, maybe even Chimpu and Coya.

Her ammunition ran out, and it was down to just her Vision. Exhaustion was slowly robbing her of strength to fight on. A lapse in concentration and she found herself knocked to the ground by a corroded Mitachurl. It raised its axe, ready to kill her. But then, a roar - no, a battle cry, coming from the skies. Both she and the monster looked up, its last sight being the underside of your boot. Chasca watched as it came crashing down, its head splattering against the wooden platform under the force of your attack. You were bleeding, wounded, wielding the remnants of your weapon like a short knife. But on your face was an expression of hate. Rage. Combat fury that she hasn’t seen either in a human or a saurian. Hilichurls approached you, only to be met with a barrage of cuts, fists and knees. You broke one’s arm like it was a twig, breaking its face alongside its mask on your fist. Another was cut open, the broken blade passing through muscle and bone as if it was butter. One was unfortunate to stumble after a kick; you stomped on its leg and, holding onto the monster’s shoulder, pulled the head alongside the spine out of its body like it was a weed. Chasca could only watch as the foes were killed, one by one in a torrent of blood and guts. Eventually, they just… broke. They fled, leaving you standing alone amidst the bodies of your comrades and whatever was left of theirs.

Before she could even speak a word, you hoisted her by her collar and, without a word, carried her to the chief’s hut where survivors were gathered. When she came to her senses, she didn’t ask any questions - it wasn’t the time for that. Both of you led whatever was left of the tribe to the Stadium. Only on the way back did Chasca notice that it wasn’t a broken sword you were wielding. It was an obsidian sigil mounted on a handle. A sigil with nothing else but the letters ASKR carved into the obsidian. Once you got to your destination, you wandered off and she saw you again only after the invasion

You weren’t there to comfort her when Chuychu succumbed to corrosion. She knew, however, that you couldn’t. Your new name, just like hers, came with duties that had to be attended to.   

Who would have thought that Chasca would be the one to witness the cursed name, the mark of the beast, be granted to a chosen Warrior? And her husband no less? That was one of the only two good things to come out of the invasion. The latter being that, even if it’s a bit cynical to admit, only one of her loved ones died. There were many among the tribe who lost everyone they held dear. But you were still here, stronger and… cooler than ever. 

Every Askari has similar traits of character, you being no exception. Calm, laconic in speech and dutiful… How could she have not expected you to be this generation’s Warrior? Perhaps it was the part of her that hoped you wouldn’t be marked for death. But alas, the will of the Wayob comes from their wisdom and strives for the good of all Natlan - it would be selfish to try and resist it. 

On top of that, you didn’t seem opposed to your new destiny. You wore the armor and wielded the weapons with a grim determination and hatred boiling in your veins as you tore your enemies into pieces. While you weren’t eager to voluntarily put yourself in danger before, now you were the first to go in, and soon your given name became a synonym for victory. The remaining nests of the Abyss and the monsters lurking around dark corners were stomped into the mud, the survivors too scared of you to come out and threaten the people ever again. Then, riding on your Qucusaurus, you took to the ruins of Ochkanatlan to clean the corrosion. Although the Traveler got to the dragon first, you still had lots of things to kill. 

And when all was said and done, you looked around at all the bodies and scoffed, for there were no more monster necks to snap, no more skulls to pulverise under your boots. So you returned home. 

Chasca was with you all the way. Temporarily, there was a smaller need to keep the peace since everybody was still united and wary of a possible counterattack. She observed as you purged the monsters, and couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. The way an Askari fought was described in legends, but the retellings were nothing when compared to seeing you in the flesh. You were fearless. You brushed off any injury they could inflict on you, your body quickly regenerating as soon as you wet your blade with another monster’s blood. Your newly enhanced size and musculature let you snap necks and crush heads with spine-chilling ease. She is more than perfectly aware of why you fight this way - fear is the only way to get through to the primal minds of the monstrosities you fight. And it is effective, for they fear only one thing - you. 

While she was very intimidating before, it’s an entirely different matter now. Just a mention of her getting involved creates an instant link to you in the minds of the troublemakers. If they pull her into this, she could definitely ask you for a hand and render them into nothing but ground meat. And although you don’t usually fight humans, she saw you drive back Fatui and similar criminals before. And the rest of Natlan has heard about it too. Now very few dare to rob caravans or poach saurians, fearing that they might land in the center of your attention. And nobody wants that. 

Even if you made her role a bit less necessary, you do make up for it by being an absolute piece of cinema. Chasca could watch you train and fight for hours on end, seeing every muscle flex as you deliver well-earned retribution.

And when there are no monsters in urgent need of a proper beatdown, she can… enjoy your strength in greater detail, so to speak. But you don’t mind that, do you?

Thanks for reading!

[mad-hatter-memes]

FunkyFrogBait Starters

A collection of dialogue prompts from the videos by FunkyFrogBait. Feel free to edit quotes as necessary.

TW: Swearing, threats, and suggestive references

"My fellow Caucasians astound us with their ingenuity yet again..."

"This is just an evil, evil thing to do with pasta..."

"No spaghetti for you, sir."

"I could be doing any number of things with my life, but I've chosen to share this moment with you...Don't you feel so special?"

"This feels very forbidden..."

"I don't know what this is but it's not fettucine!"

"I just scalded myself! That was uncomfortable..."

"To be clear...I would not feed this to a dog..."

"This esophagus is rated E for everything!"

"Aren't I a lucky little boy? Only 40% of these are broken!"

"Is this a complaint that I'm hearing? Spitters are quitters, [Name]."

"It's just you and me, [Name]. So...who's gonna union with you?"

"If there is a god, he has abandoned us for celestial milk and cigarettes."

"That looks like something that would leak out of an infected wound!"

"This looks like porridge was spilled on the floor of a gym locker room and left to ferment for forty days and forty nights!"

"Trying to boil Pringles to make mashed potatoes is like trying to send her flowers after she's already taken the kids."

"Hahahaha, that's really cute, how about you go fuck yourself?!"

"Being a dad seems pretty fun; All you have to do is sometimes remember their names and forget to pick them up from soccer practice. "

"Now, now, don't be hysterical, dear. This is a nearly painless procedure...For me anyways!"

"I have not been allowed around a glue gun since...The incident..."

"The caveman method usually works in my experience."

"Aw babe, your texture makes me wanna barf."

"Now the nice thing about turkey bacon is that you can eat it raw! I think..."

"This says says it serves twenty four people...They haven't met me."

"Hello, Mr. [Last Name]. I'm here to pick up your daughter."

"Please don't call the police...I know this a weird use of my free time but it's technically not illegal."

"I'm about to give myself an accidental haircut..."

"Can I just call up a priest and have him waterboard me...?"

"Whoookay...This makes me want to join a nunnery."

"Who up praying with they rosary right now?"

"STOP FINGERING EVERYTHING! I AM A CHILD OF GOD!"

"Girl, what foundation is that?! Not a pore in sight!"

"[Name], honey. You're already slaying, you don't need to slay innocent civilians."

"Where did they find this child? The Victorian Era?!"

"ASAB: Assigned Sidekick at Birth. How unfortunate..."

"Who is giving these children access to deadly weapons?! Hello?!"

"The kids like thirteen. Just throw a Roblox gift card as hard as you can and run in the opposite direction."

"[Character Name] is dead, [Muse Name]! And you're worried about the fidelity of this game to it's source material?!"

"Paint a picture for us, [Name]! Don't hold back!"

"I would've bully the fuck outta this kid. And I did musical theater!"

"Where are people getting all this Tannerite?! I want some!"

"Is the cockroach infestation required or optional?"

"I'm being manipulated by a gothic aesthetic and common sense!"

"Yikes! Don't show that to your grandma!"

"That's my heart after the hot girl in my Com Sci class tells me that our star signs are incompatible!"

"I really wouldn't talk how other people look if your eyebrows can't agree on what timezone they're in."

"Is god really rockin' with you? Sinner..."

"Let me eat my oreos in peace goddamnit!"

"I'M GONNA START POWERWASHING THE CEILING!"

"You know what crybaby fumblefingers? At this point you owe me money. Hand over twenty, pretty boy!

"Why is she beckoning me ominously...?"

"That's because you've been selected for ritual sacrifice, [Name]. You know how they are this time of the month..."

"Do you have family, [Name]? Anyone you'd be particularly devastated to lose in a violent and sudden way?"

"You know what, [Name]? I'd probably punch you over a Hot Wheels too!"

"I see god's law not as a restriction...but a challenge!"

"I am deeply dissatisfied with my life choices and I am NOT afraid to make that your problem at five o' clock in the morning!"

"I hope one of your family members is in a car accident this week!"

"It's fucking terrible and I'm overcome by a desire to kill James Corden for some reason!"

"I'm sorry...Do you think mother earth is just lactating blue raspberry surprise, bitch?!"

[cepheusgalaxy]

We need more trans and gnc whumpees!

Trans whumpees that are post-everything before they are even captured, yes, but not just that!

Whumpee that didn't even realize she was trans and was captured as a "boy" and then after she was rescued and started to heal and feel safe after so long she started figuring out things about herself. Does she have a caretaker? Does she tell them? Does she not, in fear of their reaction? So many options!

Perhaps whumpee even figured themself out during captivity. Did they let whumper know? Did whumper care? Did whumper pretend to care?

Maybe whumpee isn't trans, but he is gnc. He always dressed fem and then he was captured and whumper used him as a dress up doll for the dresses and laces they wanted and that made whumpee sick. In recovery, is caretaker perhaps expecting whumpee to be a little more conforming after those experiences? What happens when instead, Whumpee goes back to their loved fem style or perhaps a new one altogether, but this time on their terms, way different than what whumper forced them into. Does whumpee perhaps even figure out he likes dressing fem in recovery after trying to find his style after enduring captivity

Or maybe slavery setting! Slave or bbu/pet whumpee who is transgender and as they realize that they have a moreso nice handler that lets them slowly transition. "Hey did you hear 20391 is a she now" "Dude idk that one is Dave's trainee but he knows what he's doing—have you seen his reviews? I'm not gonna be the one doubting his methods" and "Hey did you grow out your slave's hair" "Nah, found out they handed me a girl and thought it was a boy. She asked me to grow it out and it's pretty easy to yank now, ya know, why would I deny it" or something like that

Whumpees who had their "silly trans thoughts" beaten out of them in captivity and are afraid of being themselves during recovery!

Mad scientist who blackmails whumpee with affirming care as a way to ensure they'll stay in line?

Agender whumpee who's had a gender imposed onto it during its whole life and after a stranger, caretaker, rescues it, she doesn't want it to be anything and when they ask its gender at some point (it was not like she knew it before) it just sighs and asks if they can go back to pretend that thing didn’t exist, before caretaker got to ask. Caretaker chuckles and says it can be genderless, if it wants. So many possibilities!

Male whumpee dehumanized for a long time and after a while getting the guts to ask Caretaker—who's been so kind as to never call whumpee anything but a "he" or a "they" when they weren't sure—if they can start using it/its. Caretaker is confused, why would you want to go back to that? And whumpee's face is red with embarassment, but they feel a twitch in their gut everytime someone calls it sir, or lady, when it was confused by a girl at the grocery store once. It doesn't know why, it just—Caretaker doesn't understand, but they want whumpee to feel comfortable. They ignore the guilt on their tongue when they refer to whumpee by that, which instantly vanished the second they catch its surprised smile.

Anyways I just—TRANS AND GNC WHUMPEES YALL