#that can make people explode and stuff. not to mention they all hope she was someone different & keep forcing their dreams and hopes

[stellarsightz]

“All that I've been taught // And every word I've got // Is foreign to me” — Hozier, Foreigner’s God

Aka "nooo dont grieve the life you spent running away from everything and wish you could go back to that life of uncertainty, where you constantly wonder if you can survive another day, rather than stand in the middle of a civil war which has nothing to do with you, you're so cool and sexy you're literally the mythical hero of a land where everyone detests your kind ahahahh"

A silly drawing of my Bosaltmer Dovahkiin, Baltana :))

I fiddled with her design a little, aka i added a different facial tattoo (which mirrors Lynwallyn's because hehe they're twins)

-> a companion piece to this older drawing of Lynwallyn

(Alternative version under the cut; possible eyestrain warning)

[adventuringblind]

Make Me Yours

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: chaotic smut (I'm a slut for this man)

Summary: Daniel mentions something to Oscar and he takes a shot in the dark.

Warnings: KNIFE PLAY, blood, intensive aftercare, Max and Daniel being big brothers, Oscar is a dork and we love him for it, enemies to lovers if you squint, soft dom Oscar, Reader is a mess for Oscar and he loves it.

Notes: This was an anonymous request! I hope you like it!! Please remember to communicate and take care of yourselves if you engage in a kink like this!! Reader is a Redbull rookie which I know is ridiculous but it's fiction.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

She wouldn't say her sex life is vanilla. Definitely the opposite, actually. Most people would look at Oscar and assume he is the most boring human on the planet.

They are all wrong.

Most the drivers, including herself, teased him about how he knows two positions maximum. He'd gotten fed up with it and showed her exactly why everyone is wrong.

Turns out pent up tension from being rivals from F3 and F2 leads to these situations. The situation being mind-blowing sex with the one guy who you didn't want to admit feelings for.

Formula 1 is an unforgiving world. She didn't need feelings getting in the way. Until Oscar came along and ruined it all.

Until that night, at least. Now they are stuck together like glue. It drives Max and Daniel insane with how much he's around the Redbul garage.

She tried to use the 'best friends' excuse until Daniel caught them in her driver's room.

"It's always the rookies."

That being said, her problem isn't the sex, or Oscar, or her relationship at all. The problem is how to bring up something she would like to try.

Both of them like trying new things and have been very clear on boundaries and keep open communication about the subject. He's never judged her for anything she's brought up. So why can't she just ask him?

"Something on your mind?" Daniel appears from thin air, and she slams her phone down out of view. She prays he didn't see the pictures of the silver blades and thinks she a psycho.

"Nope," she squeaks. A terrible recovery on her end.

"Watching porn? Looking at Mr. Piartri's nudes? Come one, you can tell me!"

Max pokes his head out from around the corner. "Are we talking about sex?" Here she thought the secluded space would be far away enough for them to come bother her. Then again, Daniel could help her out. He's good at talking to people.

"Pretty sure you and Charles talked about it last night." She quips without looking at him.

She's blushing and embarrassed. Her brain is yelling at her to run as far away as possible before she does something stupid-

"Hey Daniel, you know about sex stuff right?" Wow, that doesn't sound awkward at all.

"Yes?" He quirks his eyebrow at her. "But if you're looking for a threesome I'm going to have to decline. For now, at least," he winks.

She chokes at the notion. She's going to explode at this rate. Time to bail out. "Never mind, it's not that, but it's dumb."

Max appears fully in her line of sight. "You can't leave us hanging now! Oscar not performing well anymore?" His expression suddenly goes dark. "Or if he hurt you, I won't hesitate to send him into the barriers."

"No! no, it's not him it's me. I don't know how to ask him about something."

Both the males soften. It eases the anxiety a tiny bit, but she'd still rather not be here.

"Hmm, can I ask what it is?"

"A kink," she whispers away from him.

Daniel hears it anyway. "Yours or his?"

"Mine."

Daniel, now seeing he's not going to get anywhere like this, tries a new approach. "Look, this is a no judgment zone, right? Max talks about Charles and their sex life any chance he gets. I am an open book. No laughing or cringing, okay?"

It still feels weird having this conversation. But Daniel isn't going to let it sit now. Curse her impulsive mouth. "Knives. I want him to use a knife on me."

~~~~~

Oscar is sitting in wait around the Redbull motorhome. His girlfriend had said she'd meet him out here and he hasn't seen her all day, so he came early.

Media days are usually difficult for her. The journalists manage to find some new sexist thing to point out every race weekend. It drives all the drivers insane. They can't just let it go and move on to something new.

"Hiya mate!" Daniel appears around the corner and Oscar manages (just barely) to not jump out of his skin. "You waiting for your girl?"

"Yeah, I'm early though. Do I need to go?"

"Nah, you're fine." Daniel throws him a grin. "I'm curious how you keep the marks on her hidden. Been wondering for a while now."

Oscar blinks. His brain is trying to process the last Statement. "You mean... like a hickey?"

"No! The scars." Daniel looks like he's just said the most obvious thing. Oscar is still trying to remain neutral in what is definitely an odd conversation.

Scars? What scars is he talking about? "I-"

"Don't tell me you don't see it! That girl totally has some kind of knife kink."

Knife kink?! Where is this coming from? He tries to think back to any hint of it on her end. It's not like he's opposed to trying new things and he wouldn't be shocked if she felt weird about bringing it up.

"I'd ask her about it mate." Daniel winks and disappears into the crowd of people.

Oscar tries not to think too hard on it. It's just a weird comment made by Daniel in passing.

At least, that's what it started as.

Oscar then finds himself doing research on it. A deep rabbit hole that now occupies far too much space in his brain.

The idea of her permanently some kind of mark he puts there drives him wild. Which is odd, because it hasn't before. A visible hickey every now and then does the trick. Satisfies him when they go out places.

After the first 'I don't see your boyfriend,' he started putting one on her collar bone. Not visible unless she deems it so amd fresh enough to ward off any suspicious characters.

Curse Daniel for giving him this stupid idea. Something more permanent than a hickey sounds appealing.

If it were up to him, he'd keep her in his pocket. It's funny, really, how she thought he didn't know about her feelings. Oscar had played the game for two years. Then he couldn't take it anymore and he snapped.

Yes, she's snarky and moody, and as picky as Lando, until you get past the hard exterior and see she's all soft and squishy. Most of the time, anyway.

He asks her about it after Silverstone. He's coming down off his high and drunk on the adrenaline paired with a shot of success. The confidence boost is really what he needs to put the idea out there. As outrageous as it seems, Daniel might have a point.

"I was thinking about something." He starts off with. She flops onto her bed. Not his since Lando manages to get into his room at the worst times.

"Something good I hope?"

"Depends." Oscar adjusts their position so he can cradle her. The way she snuggles into him like an affectionate cat makes him melt. "It's kinky."

"The best kind of thoughts to have!" She taps his nose with her index finger to accentuate each word.

Oscar steels himself for the possible outcomes. "What if we tried knives."

There is an unmatched look of pure shock on her face. Oscar is prepared to reassure that she doesn't have to, until he notices the glint.

"Yes! I mean - yeah, we should give it a try."

Huh, so Daniel was right. Oscar will have to thank him later for the tip. "We need to talk about it first. I'm thinking either talk now and do it or we save it for a later date."

"How about we talk now, then see?"

"Sounds lovely."

~~~~~

The more Oscar talks, the more she wants it. It's ridiculous what he does to her with merely his voice. Or maybe it's the constant regard for her wants, needs, and safety.

Yeah, it's true what they say: consent really is sexy.

"Love? Did you hear what I was saying?" His voice has they soft mellowness about it that calms the raging see of her emotions.

"No..."

"Stay with me, yeah? I'll put this off if you aren't coherent enough to truly consent to anything." Yep, sexy. No doubt about it.

"I'm here, promise! Just got distracting... thinking."

"About?"

She waits a beat to see if he's willing g to drop it. He makes no indication he'll be moving on, however, making her forced to answer. "Your voice..."

She is going to combust at this rate. It's embarrassing how wrecked she is already. Oscar hasn't even touched her, but the sight of him with the glinting silver blade in his hands has her going feral. The crazy eyed, drooling kind that makes her seem like she should be locked up.

The fact Oscar spent over two hours in discussion and has research to back up every point her makes drivers her wild. She would happily spend the rest of her life with him even after a measly two years together.

He's ruined her. Oscar has made it so she will never be able to leave. So what if she's dramatic? Can you really blame her when she has Oscar Piastri standing in front of her looking ready to devour her?

Oscar takes his time. It's slow and gentle kisses, nimble fingers finding their way around the canvas he knows so well. "Fucking hell you're gorgeous."

She takes a mental note of the way she's in no clothes and he's got all his own. It's unfair and she tugs at his sleeve to signal she wants it off. Oscar complies and pulls the fabric off.

He goes back to licking his way around the inside of her mouth. Her hands relax around his body, taking comfort in the warmth and closeness of the skin-on-skin contact.

His fingers slip through her folds and like muscle memory locate her clit. It's pathetic the sounds he's getting her to make. Specifically, while holding the pocketknife, unopened, in his free hand.

"So pretty for me love. I would cut you up and put you in my pocket if I could. Carry your cute ass around with me like a good luck charm."

She's so far down the rabbit hole of her favorite headspace. Oscar's words are just swimming around her, until the sound of the black clicking open pulls her back into reality.

He presses the flat part of the blade against her arm. The cold of the metal sends a shiver running down her spine.

Oscar is looking deep in the eyes, mapping out every emotion and physical reaction she's having to the sensation. "Color?"

"Green, very green, the brightest of greens-" Oscar shuts her up with a kiss to her temple. It's gentle and meaningful. Enough to turn her right into a blushing mess.

Oscar checks in frequently every time the blade moves. The masochist is jumping for joy when the tip barely rests against her shoulder blade. "Are you ready? Want me to mark you? Shall I make you bleed for me?"

"Please," She whines.

"Keep your eyes on me yeah? You say red and I stop."

She signals that she understands and would like to continue. Oscar traces the line he wants to make.

She hisses when the knife presses downwards. Oscar panics, but he watches her eyes roll back and knows to continue. "Eyes on me, love. I want to see how pretty you look."

The cold stinging sensation makes her whimper in pain and moan in ecstasy all at the same time. He's still talking to her. Voice still calm and gentle. He's watching her intently, tracking every shift until he's done.

He keeps a hand on her to let her know he's still present as he tucks the, now closed knife, safely onto the bedside table. Despite looking so composed to everyone else, she notices the small thing about Oscar's shift in demeanor. Like how his pupils are staring at her, just the slightest bit tinged with the desire tor take her in the next ten seconds.

He resists and makes sure she is ready for that first. "Color?"

She slurs through an ungodly number of praises and words resembling 'green'. Oscar basks in it. He sits and caresses her skin as he watches the cut to make sure he really did go light enough.

Small beads of red appear at the surface, but not enough that he's concerned with first aid at the Moment. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Osc? Are you still green?"

Oscar softens again. "Yeah, I'm green, just taking in the sight and - happy I didn't stab you." He's breathless and panting. His jeans straining and her hands aching to get her hands on him.

There is so much love and kindness leading up to him finally getting inside of her. The towel underneath her shoulder catches the run-off red. It falls away with every thrust of his hips and rock of her body.

They hit the edge to quickly. Falling over it in white hot pleasure and moans of joy.

"You're such a good girl for me. You did such a good job." Oscar whispers in her ear as he wipes the cut with disinfectant.

Oscar carries her blissed out body to the bathroom and lets her look at the wound before bandaging it. A perfect heart now rests on the peak of her shoulder. Not massive, but enough to be seen without looking to close.

"I love it."

"Yeah? You ready to bandage it?"

"Do we have to?"

She doesn't get her way. Oscar bandages the heart and gets them cleaned up. Then it's water and snacks in bed.

"I never thought you'd be into it."

"I wasn't until Daniel brought it up."

Her entire being stills. Maybe even goes pale and Oscar looks at her in confused worry.

"I might have asked him for advice on how to ask you... about this."

Once again, his face softens. "You know you never have to be afraid of asking me." A gentle smile appears on his face. "I do think we'll have to thank him for this later."

"You're just going to inflate his ego."

"Maybe it's worth it if he keeps giving me advice." Oscar winks at her and smirks.

Yeah, maybe Daniel's pestering isn't to bad.

~~~~~

Oscar stands waiting for the drivers parade the next race weekend with all the other drivers. He's waiting patiently for his favorite rookie to come and join him.

Instead, he is once again jumping out of his skin because Danile is grabbing his shoulders from out of nowhere. "Could you not, like, scare me? Please?"

"But this is more fun! Certainly not as much fun as you had, I'm sure. I saw the scar." Daniel wiggles his eyebrows.

Oscar is blushing, he can feel it in his face. The words he wants to say are not coming out like he intends. "yep, I - um... thanks."

"Let me know if you need any other advice." Daniel smirks and claps him on the shoulder, Leaving Oscar a mess.

This is why I get teased; he thinks.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Witch /// Part 2

Part 1

The great part about Rhiana the Witch’s cozy cottage outside that small town was the privacy. Not just when her most wriggly meals ran; but because it was purposefully hidden. The faerie circles just outside the town messed with maps and satellites making her little place a safe haven from the enemies and ex-lovers experiments she’d made over her many centuries of being alive. But now that she was leaving to get closer to you, she was uncomfortably exposed. 

“Hey Rhi-Rhi you okay? You’ve looked so nervous since I picked you up.”

“Oh I’m fine it’s just all these people make me so nervous.”

“I guess it is kind of overwhelming.”

“Maybe you can take me somewhere private. Like your place maybe?”

She thinks it’s worth the risk as she’s allowed to use the same excuse to cling to your side. Pretend to be distraught when she gets hit on to have you pretend to be dating to drive off desperate and confident weirdos. She eats that up. Unfortunately though, her open fawning over you leaves her unguarded from soul searches. An old technique lovers of olde used to unite over long periods. Naturally, trouble just happens to be in the 500-meter radius and is well off enough to get in close to foil her plans.

“Hello there. I’m your new neighbor. I wanted to introduce myself to everyone since I’m completely new to the area.”

“Oh hi, nice to meet you! I’m (Y/n) and this is Rhi–”

“(Y/n) you don’t have to introduce me I’m only visiting.”

“That’s such a shame Rhiana. I would’ve hoped we could…get to know each other better.”

Trouble is one of her craziest exes–Narciness. He was a nymph and she was a witch. Back then, it made sense that they were perfect for one another. Both were a gorgeous couple, immortal and with plenty of magic. Not to mention he didn’t even mind that she ate humans for her youthful appearance. But it just wasn’t right for Rhea. Just as his name would suggest there was a deep-seated and well-masked narcissism that showed its ugly head at the worst times. She ultimately took the very mature option that she’s learned over the centuries when it comes to major obstacles. She ran. 

“Nice to see you again Rhiana. It’s always nice to know my girlfriend decided to disappear from me the last few centuries!”

“Quit whining. I left you a note didn’t I?”

“A note cursed to explode with a memory-wipe spell the second I finished it. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to leave me.”

“Oh genius, you’re finally getting it!”

“That can’t be right! You and I…we’re perfect together! And you instead cheat on me with the most imperfect human!”

“Do not ever talk about my (Y/n) like that!”

She’s almost glad he’s crazy enough not to hide his intentions. Had he been cut from the same cloth as she-she would have kept silent until after she devoured her prey. But Narciness is an idiot who so clearly had it out for you that she wouldn’t let him live another day without singing your praises. Unfortunately, the thing about killing a nymph is that it wasn’t easy, a child of the old powers of nature. He’s survived a lot of things and can withstand some of Rhea’s most fatal potions. And especially when she’s far from home spending time with you, she’s a little shorthanded. So she’ll come up with another remedy. 

“Hey Narc, I didn’t know you went shopping here.”

“I think instead of solely getting the organic stuff I figured I’d swing by here every once in a while. The gallery is truly immaculate.”

“Good for you. C’mon (Y/n) we’re going to miss our movie.”

“Oh right! Well, it was nice seeing you, Narc!”

“Oh (Y/n) before you go, there's something I wanted to tell you.”

“What?”

“I just love your smile.”

“Oh, thanks !”

“Let’s go, (Y/n).”

The thing she found that sparked her attraction to him was his smile. It lit up the room like yours and in the end, it’ll be what protects you from his violent protections of ‘their relationship’. Unfortunately, now that she’s used a spell to shift his affection she’ll have to figure out some way to end his life before he turns violent against her. Too bad it’ll be hard to figure out in the span of two days. Now she can miss her plane and extend her stay a little while but it’s just not enough time. Not enough time for her to make sure ‘Narc’ doesn’t try anything, she’ll have to do something drastic. 

“Narciness I was hoping we could find some common ground.”

“With you? Babe, didn’t I tell you I was done? Your old news.”

“For you, I might be but I’m the hottest thing in (Y/n)’s world.”

“...I see. So we’re officially competing then. Would you like to fight this out now?”

“I’d like to try something new. A gesture of peace, if you will.”

“...oven mitts? You plan to make me bake? Why would I concern myself with such a lowly task?”

“Did I tell you (Y/n) has a sweet tooth?”

“...”

Rhea the Witch considers herself lucky her ex considered cooking for himself as a job for ‘someone uglier than him.’ She’s also glad she gets to stay another day due to food poisoning. Who knew nymphs gave witches so much nausea?

“Oh Rhea were you eating that bloody meat again? I keep telling you that rare steak is great but you got to make sure it’s at least cooked a little bit.”

“I know hon. I should really think about maintaining my diet better.”

“Yeah, I’m just glad this is happening now. Instead of on a plane or bus where I wouldn’t be there for you.”

“Yes…(Y/n) what do you think about me staying another week or so. So many things keep happening, it feels as though fate is telling me.”

She may have some serious indigestion but you were hers and the threat was…toast. For Rhea, her reward was being pampered by you. Finally able to rest with her love by her side. Nothing was better and nothing could bother her. Not even the distant thought of the new owner to the place next door. 

“I noticed your plants. I’m not a huge fan of nature but maybe you can show me the ropes. What do you say, neighbor?”

[ben-pincus]

my love is a life taker (ben pincus x darius bowman)

(pre chaos theory season 1)

tags : ben in denial of being a boy kisser, nightmares, trauma from isla nublar, mention of being eaten alive by pteranodons, fluff, a pinch of angst??? maybe ?????, idk i love benrius sobs, theyre so cute

the time was 3:06AM. ben was awoken by his usual nightmares of pteranodons in a cold sweat, disorientated and convinced those winged creatures were coming for him. again.

his breaths were heavy, eyes wide as he sat upright in his bed, the college dorms quiet. he felt light, weak, like he was falling from the monorail again.

he clutched at his chest, willing himself to calm down. his dreams, or nightmares for a better word always end with him dying, either from hitting the ground too hard, or being painfully torn apart by the pteranodons, and the only thoughts going through his head then are;

i wont be able to see darius again.

he doesnt know why darius is the first person to come to mind when he thinks about dying. everytime he thinks about darius, he gets nervous, and giddy.

but hes not gay. or, at least he thinks so. hes been with girls before but.. darius is different. more special.

ben sighs, running his hands down his face as he inhales shakily. he picks up his phone, checking through his messages, unaware that darius was also doing the same.

darius, distracted from late night work from the dpw, texts ben,

"you up?"

bens heart almost explodes out of his chest. but there it is, that feeling again. like his heart is going to explode.

ben texts back in an instant, his fingers fumbling over the screen,

"yeah"

darius takes a minute to respond,

"nightmares again?"

ben mentally curses himself. the fact that darius knew how often his nightmares were made him feel embarrassed.

"yeah, and just thinking about stuff"

that stuff being you, ben thought. but what was he meant to say? hey! you're my best friend and i think im gay for you! hope this doesnt make things awkward!

of course its gonna make things awkward, he tells himself. hes cool with gay people, hell, he even helped yaz and sammy. but why is it so hard to accept that he might like guys too?

he almost forgets hes texting darius. almost.

"what stuff?"

darius responds. ben lowers his phone, resisting the urge to just smash it into pieces, but he also wants to tell darius whats going on.

so he lies.

"college :/"

he doesnt give a shit about college right now. hes been so preoccupied with trying to figure himself out.

he even went to sammy.

they met up for a 'coffee', but ben just wanted to get her advice.

"ben? what's eatin' ya? you're never this quiet.." sammy notices, her eyebrows furrow as she slightly leans over the small table.

ben sighs, running his hand through his hair, "i... its about darius." he says quietly.

"what? he not pickin' up again? because i swear to god i told him!-"

"no! no.. its.. god.." he groans, leaning back in the chair and covering his face with his hands.

"ben.." sammy drags out, wanting to know whats going on. ben suddenly leans forward, looking down at the coffee cup in his hands before looking up at sammy,

"how.. how did you know you were lesbian?" he whispers.

a flash of confusion appears on sammys face, before her eyes widen, the pieces fitting together.

"you.. like darius..?" she asks quietly, to which ben nods.

"i- i know you can like both guys and girls but i.. why cant i accept it as easily as you did?" he whispers, the frustration evident in his voice.

sammy puts her hand over bens,

"i didnt accept it right away." she admits quietly, "nearly no one does."

ben looks at her, his eyes slightly widened.

"you didnt?" he whispers, to which sammy shakes her head.

"it took a while.." she shrugs, "but.. y'know. i got there! and i got the best girlfriend in the world!" she smiles.

ben wants to smile, but he cant.

"sammy, i- i dont know if darius swings that way. what if i tell him and it ruins everything?" he whispers, all these thoughts swirling in his head.

"you wont know unless ya tell him." she says, squeezing bens hand reassuringly.

"how?" ben asks, his voice strained.

"just tell him." sammy nods, "you dont gotta know what ya are right away... jus' know what you're feelin'."

he doesnt know the amount of times hes typed out a paragraph to darius, and then deleted it out of fear of being shunned.

bens fingers hover over the call button. he doesnt wanna do it over text, its too.. sleazy..

bens finger accidentally presses the call button, and before he can cancel it, darius picks up.

"hey, ben. you okay? you dont usually call." darius' voice rings out from the phone.

"yeah- yeah, i'm uh, fine-" ben mentally slaps himself for sounding like he just ran a marathon and back.

"you dont sound it." darius hums.

"i gotta tell you something, d." the words slip out of bens mouth before he can even catch the letters from falling out.

theres a beat before darius responds,

"...what is it?" darius says quietly.

ben doesnt know how to respond, so he rambles. says whatever his heart is telling him.

"d. i love you. and not in like, a-a friend way. i wanna hold your hand, and kiss you, and be seen with you as your boyfriend. i wanna hold you and sleep next to you and take you out on dates and treat you how you deserve to be treated-" he stops himself with a shaky breath.

darius is quiet. too quiet.

fuck. ben thinks.

"really?" darius muses, ben cant read his tone.

"yeah.. really." ben swallows nervously.

ben really is hoping darius swings that way right now, to save him from the embarrassment.

"well.. uh.. yeah, yeah.. so do i." darius says quietly, tripping over his words. bens heart almost stops.

"what?" he asks.

darius laughs, "i feel the same, ben."

"well, uh.. thats um.. great." ben says, unsure on how to react now.

he can hear darius moving around,

"can i drop by tomorrow? figure things out between us?" darius asks.

bens voice catches in his throat, "yes-" he clears his throat,

"yeah. you can. you- you need directions?" ben asks.

"already know where you are. and uh... sammy told me already." darius chuckles,

"sam- oh my god.." bens face burns up, and he hears darius laughing again.

and by god, is it the most beautiful sound ben has ever heard.

[holylulusworld]

The captain at a sex shop

Summary: You’re just doing your job when you catch the eye of a certain captain…

Pairing: PostWS!Steve Rogers x Plussized(short)!Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex toys, incorrect law terms and stuff, fluff, kinda love-struck Steve, size kink

“Do you have a license to sell these,” you huff as the clerk at the sex shop ignores you. “Hello,” you snap your fingers. “You can either show me the papers or take these out of the display.”

“Who do you think you are?” the blonde snaps at you. “You can’t come here and demand shit.” She clicks her tongue and turns to walk away.

“Well, I work for the Avengers initiative, little miss plastic boobs,” you sneer at her when she dips her head to look you up and down. “Captain America for sure didn’t sign shit for you to sell dildos claiming that the trader measured Captain Rogers’ dick himself.”

“Show me your badge, inspector,” she bites back.

“Fine, you want it the hard way then,” you smirk as you get your badge out. “Tony Stark hired me to make sure no one sells illegal shit any longer. Last year, someone sold an Iron Man toaster, and it exploded. It almost killed a kid.”

You put your hands on your hips and size the woman up. She swallows thickly as you impatiently tap your foot.

“I-I…” she stammers while nervously looking around the shop. Customers stopped looking at the products and followed your conversation. “I found them online…”

“Where? Who sold this shit to you? You know, it’s illegal claiming that Captain Rogers let someone measure his dick. I will confiscate them all.”

“All? But—but I paid a thousand bucks for the dildos, miss. Will I get the money back?”

You laugh. “Miss, you’re lucky Captain Rogers doesn’t sue you. Now pack that shit up.”

“I only wanted to make money.”

“Copyright infringement is a crime, lady. You shouldn’t sell stuff you know is not licensed,” you grunt. “If only people would learn, I could have a very relaxed job.”

“Copyright infringement?” she stares at you. Bewildered. “That’s insane!”

“Well, you claim to sell Captain Rogers’ cock. But it belongs only to him, don’t you think? It’s on his body after all,” you grin when she looks a little flustered. You’re bold and downright cocky. 

“I’ll get them all…wait,” she caves in, but gives you a stinky eye. “I hope you’re happy now.”

“No. Why would I? I got to drive around with hundreds of dicks in my trunk and can’t even use one of them,” you snicker when her cheeks turn red. “Now hurry up. I got to check on three more shops. One of them claims to sell the serum turning you into Hulk. I bet it’s a hoax, but you never know…”

While you fight over the dildos Captain America style with the woman, a pair of blue eyes watch you. He grins and chuckles as you try to snatch one of the dildos out of a customer’s hands. 

“Hands off! I just confiscated all of them.”

The woman won’t give up. She presses the dildo to her chest while throwing insults at you. “That’s mine!”

“Listen, lady. If you don’t hand it over, I’ll call the cops,” you purse your lips, “Do you really want me to call them?”

“Ladies,” you stiffen as a familiar voice stops the woman from fighting for the dildo. She pales and drops the sex toy to the ground. “Please don’t fight. She’s only doing her job.

“C-captain America!!! What are you doing here?” the clerk asks. She’s as shocked as you, the customer, and the rest of the people at the shop.

“I was walking past the shop and heard a commotion, “Steve lies. “I thought someone needs help. I was right, I guess.”

“Uh-I’ve got this handled, Sir-I mean Captain. You can leave this to me,” you glance at Steve Rogers, the golden boy. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, nervously looking down at you.

“I can see that,” he smirks when you turn your attention back toward the shelves filled with Captain America dildos.

“Phew, that’s the last one,” you pant as you put the last box filled with the confiscated dildos on the ground. You stored them at your office for the time being, or until one of the people with a higher pay grade decides on the dildos' fate.

You fall into your chair, groaning as your back hurts after carrying all the boxes into your office. All those strong men in the building, and not a single one offered their help.

Of course not. You’re just a little ant, a tiny wheel in the machinery called the Avengers initiative. No one but the colleagues working next door knows your name.

“So…what are you trying to ask me?” Tony rolls his eyes as Steve came to his office only to not say a single word. “Capsicle, I’m not a telepath. If you want to get information, you need to ask questions.”

“The woman working for you, what’s her name?”

“Woman? Which one, Steve? I got a lot of employees,” as Steve tries to describe you, Tony rolls his eyes again. 

“Short, cute, and cocky?” the billionaire chuckles. “That’s the worst description of a person I ever heard. I need more information.”

“She confiscates things for you. Uh-she said something about a toaster,” Steve clears his throat. He doesn’t want to tell Tony what you confiscated today, or that he was at a sex shop. “I don’t know what this means.”

“Oh. This sounds like Y/N Y/L/N. Pepper hired her after the incident with the toaster,” Tony explains. “Someone sold toasters, claiming to be my partner, and that I helped produce them. A kid almost died.”

“Hmm…” Steve nods thoughtfully. “What’s her job? Where’s her office?"

“I don’t know,” Tony shrugs. “Pepper knows more about Y/N’s job.”

“Do you at least know where her office is? I want to thank her for doing a great job,” Steve believes he will go to hell for all the lies he told today. “Tony?”

“Sure…wait…let me check the…” Tony huffs. “I’ll call Pepper. Give me a minute.”

“Hi, can I come in?” someone knocks at your door right when you were about to have a snack. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

“Come on in,” you sigh. You will eat something later then. 

“Hi,” Steve Rogers pokes his head in. He doesn’t enter your office, only glances at you. “Can I come in, or do you have too much to do?”

“You can come in, Captain,” you jump up to open the door wider for Steve. “Hi. Uh-what brings you here? Is it about the incident at the shop?”

“I wanted to thank you,” he hesitantly enters the room. “You defended my…honor…I mean…you know what I mean.”

“Oh-that was nothing,” you play it cool. Steve Rogers makes you nervous. Like really nervous. He’s so tall, bulky, and pretty. You stare up at him, feeling a little lightheaded as he holds your gaze. “I only did my job, Sir.”

“What are you going to do with all of these?” he glances at the dildos in his colors, stored in boxes. Steve licks his lips.

He can’t tell you that the fact you are tiny compared to him makes his size kink go worse, or that he can’t think of anything but you since he saw you at the shop.

“I’m waiting for instructions,” you shrug. “I store them here until my boss tells me what to do with them.”

“What about the serum you mentioned at the store?” his eyes drop to your chest, wandering further down, stopping at your thighs. He inhales sharply as he images your legs wrapped around his waist.

“It was a fake. Someone sold green slushies tasting like spinach,” you drop your eyes to the boxes filled with dildos. “Most of the time they sell dildos or crap, nothing dangerous.”

“How about I invite you for lunch to properly thank you,” Steve offers. He shyly glances at your hand, itching to just grab it. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I was about to have a snack,” you lick your lips. “I could go for lunch, though. I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

He hums as you turn toward your desk to grab your bag and jacket. His eyes glued to your ass he feels his pants grow tighter. Steve bites his lower lip, chewing on it as he imagines putting his hands on you.

“Ready?” you glance over your shoulder, catching him staring. 

“Ready,” he clears his throat, acting as if he didn’t stare at your ass. “I’m glad you want to join me.”

“Me too.”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[scribbly-artist]

Reminisce

Summary: Vi and Jinx are reflecting on their past life, and their potential new life at the commune. Things can’t be the way they were before, but they could at least try to build something new, right?

Author’s Notes: HELLO YES I SAW ALL THE ASKS. This may be the only time I write them together because trying to find a way to write them without them trying to kill each other was harder than it looked. 😶‍🌫️ But hey, once I got started it didn’t take me too long to write it. They might be a little OOC since I haven’t written much for Jinx and haven’t written for Vi at all yet, but I hope you fellas like it. :)

Words: ~900 | AO3 Link

A light breeze passed through causing a disturbance in the grass. Distant noises such as banging at the blacksmith could be heard from the commune, however other than that slight ambience (and Isha climbing on top of pieces of metal a few metres away), it was quiet in this small section of Zaun.

Jinx and Vi were perched up against a piece of metal no taller than up to their torsos, marked with distant memories that felt like a lifetime away.

They were reminiscing. No arguing or physical fighting for the first time in a long while. They were calm, discussing the past with quiet voices.

“What else do you remember about them?” Vi asked, her fingers touching the faded markings left on the metal.

“I remember cooking with mom… the smell of her cooking always got me excited for dinner,” Jinx let out a sad sigh, plucking out the piece of straw that was in her mouth, letting it fall to the ground. “And I remember dad’s hugs. They always made me feel safe.”

“…we could make this a safe place, y’know.” Vi took a step away from the metal post, the ground crunching under her. “A new safe place. We could stay here and help. Wait for Vander to get better. That’s the least we can do for this guy’s community.”

Jinx didn’t give a response.

“We could start over. No more running away. No more blowing stuff up, no more fighting. We can make it better for us. For her,” She motioned to Isha who was playing over in the distance, oblivious to the conversation. “You want the kid to be safe, right?”

Mentioning Isha pulled at Jinx’s heartstrings. She cared a lot about her. Isha just randomly fell into her lap one day trying to run to safety, after all.

Jinx let out a huff of a laugh. “That’s the first good idea you’ve had in a while,” Jinx finally spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m down.”

A small, warm smile made its way to Vi’s face, walking up to Jinx. She held her arms out. “C’mere.”

Jinx didn’t hesitate, going in fast for a hug. She nearly teared up in Vi’s embrace. Finally, maybe they could put everything in their past behind them and truly be sisters again. Vi gave her a tight squeeze, and then let her go. Jinx wiped at the tears budding in her eyes.

“But first, you gotta at least have a smile on your face. Don’t want people to be pushed away from that sad look on your face.” Vi commented with a chuckle, her smile not wavering. Jinx let out a bit of a breathy laugh after she finished wiping her face, a small smile creeping onto it. But that clearly wasn’t enough for Vi.

“You can do better than that. Actually, lemme help.” With lightning fast reflexes that caught Jinx off guard, Vi grabbed onto Jinx’s wrist. Then, she started clawing at Jinx’s side, making the other explode with laughter. Jinx was pulling at her arm, but Vi had a nice, strong grip on her.

“Nohoho, dohohonon’t!!” Jinx nearly shrieked. Isha stopped what she was doing, watching from a distance.

“I remember mom used to tickle us after rough days. Just to see us smile,” Her wiggling fingers climbed up to Jinx’s ribs, turning her laughter into cackles. Vi shook her head and laughed, wanting to tease her sister a bit. “Seems like you’re still as ticklish now as you were when you were little.”

Everything Vi was saying was going in one ear and out the other for Jinx. She could hardly concentrate.

Vi raked her nails gently but precisely up and down Jinx’s ribs. It tickled so bad. Jinx was squirming around so much that she managed to get out of Vi’s vice grip. “OKAHAHAY, OKAY! I’m smiling now!!” Jinx held up open hands in defence and defeat, smiling even bigger than she already was. Though, it wasn’t forced this time. It was genuine.

Vi let out a ‘pfft’, shaking her head once again. Isha came rushing over to them now that the commotion was over. Isha came up to Vi first, the taller one giving her a little pat on her hat.

Jinx let out a huff when her eyes laid on Isha. “And where were you when I needed saving from the Tickle Monster??” She pointed to Isha and then motioned to Vi as she spoke. Isha simply shrugged, a smug smile forming on her face.

“C’mon, let’s go see how Vander’s doing. And try to help out wherever we can to repay the people here.” Vi began to walk off, leaving Jinx and Isha alone for a few paces.

“At least you knew I wasn’t in real danger. Thanks for not runnin’ up to try to bite her this time.” Jinx whispered to Isha, who nodded. They both made a start to follow Vi who was a bit ahead of them walking back to the commune.

Things won’t be like they were before. But at least they could rebuild and start turning over a new leaf to potentially being sisters again.

They can take it one day at a time.

[urfavstonr1]

Unsweetened Lemonade

Series- Delicious In Dungeon

Pairings- Chilchuck Tims/reader

Word Count- 3670

Content Warnings- Trauma, loss of a child, kissing?

“This is where the red dragon has been prowling apparently.” Marcille states, looking around the crumbling city of level 5.

“Do we have a plan to take this thing down?” (Y/N) asks, looking around the city walls, observing their surroundings and hoping to come up with any ideas.

Walking further into the city the party spots an arch, “If we lure the dragon through there, Marcille can use her magic to explode the arch and take down the dragon long enough to kill it.” Laius speaks his thoughts.

“Well, let’s set up camp and get prepared for this then.” (Y/N) nods to her words and looks around to the party for their thoughts, all in agreement. Finding a place to set up, (Y/N) lights a fire and gets to helping Senshi make dinner.

“So (Y/N), what made you become an adventurer?” Marcille asks, looking to the (H/C) bard, “I thought you were training to be a court magician?” “Heh, yeah. That’s always what my mother wanted but… I couldn’t stay there. So here I am, it felt like the best thing I could do with my magic you know?” (Y/N) answers, trying to answer while staying as vague as she could.

“I know how that is.” Marcille smiles at (Y/N), nudging her with her elbow, “I’m sure your husband misses you though.”

(Y/N)’s expression turns sour, “Yeah… I don’t think he does.” she murmurs, looking away from Marcille and back to the task at hand.

Chilchuck’s ear perks at the mention of (Y/N)’s husband, he had assumed she was just a childish bard who came down here for shits and giggles. Was she also running away from something? Shaking the thoughts from his mind he watched over Senshi’s shoulder as he cooked, the delicious aroma flooding the room. He didn't notice how hungry he was till now.

“That smells great Senshi! I can’t wait to eat.” (Y/N) beams at the dwarf, handing him the final ingredients she had prepared. “I’m gonna go fill my water skin, I’ll be back!” She announces to the party before retreating from the room. Walking through the halls to find a water fountain, water spilling from the mouth of a lion and into the basin.

Foot steps behind her made her jump at least a foot into the air, looking over her shoulder to see brown eyes and short chestnut hair she breathes out a sigh of relief, “You scared the shit out of me Chilchuck.”

“You shouldn’t go out by yourself, you don’t know what's out here.” he mutters, positioning himself next to (Y/N) to fill his water skin as well.

“Awe you were worried about me~” (Y/N) teases with a chuckle, “I appreciate it.”

Chilchuck scoffs, “We can’t afford to lose a party member right now, not with the fight that’s coming up..”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes with a smile, “I’ll be fine, I survived by myself to the third level. It’s you I’m worried about.”

His ears burn red with a blush, trying not to look at the mage beside him, “And why is that?”

“You said it yourself that you don’t fight, I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” (Y/N) explains, trying to conceal her own blush as they brush shoulders.

“Just worry about yourself.” He pulls his full waterskin from the basin and seals it. Over the past week the two had somehow ended up awake together during night watch, (Y/N) trying to run from her dreams and Chilchuck finding himself unable to sleep until she would begin practicing on her guitar. Each melody lulling him to sleep as if he never had issues falling asleep.

“Why do you crochet all this stuff, it feels unnecessary.” Chilchuck had asked one night, watching (Y/N) thread the yarn together into another scarf.

“I like to leave these to dead adventurers, they may not know who left them or why but seeing those same people wear them when they are resurrected makes me feel good.” (Y/N) explains, her expression warm with care as she made each stitch.

“Huh..” Chilchuck utters, his eyes flashing from her warm smile back down to the scarf.

“I worry cause I don’t know what I’d do without our nightly chats, I think it’d drive me crazy.” (Y/N) laughs, pulling her own waterskin from the basin, “Let's get back to the party, I’m sure dinner is done and I’m starving.”

Little did she know her words seemed to strike a cord in Chilchucks heart, turning his cheeks red just listening to her laugh, “Yeah.”

(Y/N) tried her hardest not to notice the way her heart beat around him, shaking her head of thoughts of him, his life outside of the dungeon, and the blooming friendship she found herself. Or the blooming feelings she had for him.

Returning to the party they were met with their servings of dinner, and so gratefully did (Y/N) accept hers, always eager and excited to try Senshi’s new dish. Moaning at the taste of tonight's dinner, “This is absolutely amazing!” she said between bites. Scarfing down the meal she couldn’t get enough of.

Each sensual moan from (Y/N) sent a shock down Chilchucks spine, distracting him from his own meal.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Senshi mused, smiling at the (H/C) haired bard who smiled back, her chubby cheeks stuffed with food like a hamster. “Anything to help get a youngin like yourself the proper nutrients for a growing body.”

Her expression soured as she swallowed the food in her mouth, “I’m not a kid!” she fumed, letting out an exasperated groan.

“Just how old are you now?” Marcille asked, trying to remember how old she was during their time at school together.

“I’ll be 28 next month, I feel like you should know this.” (Y/N) sighs with irritation.

“You really are just a kid.” Chilchuck laughs, “For an elf I thought you’d be older.”

“Well I’m not, and I’m not a full elf either, thought you’d pick up on that already.” (Y/N) rolls her eyes, finishing her food and leaning back on her hands.

“You’re not?” Laius ask confused, “I thought you were short for an elf but I figured it was an age thing.”

“Ugh, no. I’m half half-foot. I reached maturity at 14 like any other half-foot.” (Y/N) explains, looking into the fire as her mind wanders.

“Well you sure act like a child.” Chilchuck mumbles.

“Say that again!” (Y/N) growls, glaring at the lock picker beside her.

“I’m just saying, an adult wouldn’t throw a temper tantrum over having to cross a lake.” Chilchuck reiterates, glaring back at (Y/N).

“Oh so adults aren’t allowed to be scared? Senshi literally threw a fit over having water walking cast on him!” (Y/N) nearly yelled, sitting up straight as rage filled her body.

“He’s never experienced magic before! You are a grown adult with an irrational fear of water!” Chilchuck feels his voice turn into a yell as he watches (Y/N) stand and begin to walk away.

“I’m not fucking doing this right now.” (Y/N) growls as she stomps out of the room.

“What did I tell you about leaving on your own!?” He yells after her, scrambling to get off the floor and go after her.

“Fuck you!” (Y/N) yells back, hearing his footsteps behind her, “Can you just leave me alone!?” She turns to glare down at him, only for the half-foot who had run after her to crash into her, knocking them both back onto the ground with a grunt.

(Y/N) groans as she tries to sit back up only to be held down by the weight of Chilchuck who sat silently stunned at their position. In their fall his face had ended right in her boobs, his face a bright red as he tried to think of his next actions. Reaching his hand to stabilize himself only to find his hand on squishy cotton. Wait, squishy cotton? He gave a squeeze only to hear a muffled moan.

He quickly scrambled away from her, panting as he stared at her flushed face with wide eyes. “I-I’m so sorry!” He stutters out. Trying to ignore the growing bulge in his pants. (Y/N) sat in stunned silence, staring back at him in bewilderment. Carefully moving to crawl closer to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to it was an accident!” Chilchuck blurts out apologizes as she crawls closer.

“Shhh shut up.” She mumbles bringing a hand to his cheek, pulling his face to hers in a slow kiss. His cheeks burned brighter as he closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss that soon became more heated. (Y/N) biting at his bottom lip before pulling away panting, a string of saliva connecting their lips.

When she opened her eyes again she was met with familiar dark brown orbs staring back at her.

“W-what was that for?” Chilchuck panted out, trying to sort out his running thoughts.

“I don’t know! I-“ (Y/N) looked away as she tried to bring back her brain from the fog of lust, “something just. Took over me… I couldn’t help myself..” she speaks quietly only for two hands to grab her cheeks and bring her in for another kiss. (Y/N) moans into the kiss as the kiss deepens, his tongue moving past her lips to meet her own.

A voice echoed through the hall that pulled them back to reality and away from each other.

“Chil? (Y/N)?” Marcilles voice rang through the corridor, “You guys have been gone for a while and we got worried.”

“Yeah we’re fine!” (Y/N) called back to her, her eyes never leaving Chilchucks even as she stood and brushed herself off, offering him a hand to stand. “I tripped but it’s all good.”

Chilchuck took her hand to stand and looked to Marcille, “Just making sure she didn’t hurt herself.”

They walked back to camp without another word, (Y/N) once again took first watch while everyone got ready for bed. As the first hour passed (Y/N) found herself digging through her bag, retrieving a bottle of wine she had been storing. Tonight felt like a good night to finally pop it open. Taking the first sip she let out a laugh as a certain half-foot sat next to her.

“You should be sleeping.” she mused, offering him the bottle which he gratefully drank from.

“And you shouldn’t be drinking but here we are.” Chilchuck chuckled as he handed the bottle back.

(Y/N) took another swig before letting out a sigh, “It felt like a good time to crack it out. Cool my nerves before we have to fight that fucking dragon.”

Chilchuck nods, looking at (Y/N) as she stares at the fire. “Alright, spit it out. What's on your mind.”

“What’s that? Chilchuck tims wanting to hear about my personal life?” She laughs again, looking at him with a smile before shaking her head, “Far too much with far too little time to figure it out.”

“Well… maybe I can help you figure it out.” he felt his cheeks heat up again, looking down to the fire.

“Honestly? My son…” She took a much bigger drink this time, taking the bottle from her lips with a pop.

“How old is he?” His voice was quiet, tenderly trying to navigate the conversation.

(Y/N) shook her head, “He uh. He was a week old.” she passed the bottle back to the half-foot beside her, “His name was Gaelin… my sweet little Gaelin…”

“What happened?” Chilchuck asked, looking back to her now melancholic expression.

She shrugs, “We don’t know… they say he passed in his sleep.” She clears her throat, trying to keep her tears from spilling, “And losing a baby is hard on a marriage, not that he truly loved me anyway.” She gives a laugh. He looked at her confused as he handed the bottle of wine back, “It was arranged by my mother. After my father died and school was finished she was quick to have me married. He was a high standing elf in the court, only touched me to conceive our son.”

“That fucking sucks.” the words spilled from his mouth, earning him a laugh from (Y/N).

“That’s life I suppose. He left, my mother despised me for it, so I ran. Came here to finally put my magic to good use.” She explains, wiping a tear from her cheek while pulling her legs into her chest.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Chilchuck hesitantly reaches out to grab her hand, offering her comfort the best he knew how to.

“It’s in the past now, time is an arrow that doesn’t stop for anyone.” (Y/N) smiles at him, squeezing his hand.

The two sat in silence, forgetting the mostly empty bottle of wine. The night drew on as they stared at the fire. Chilchuck opened his mouth to speak before closing it again.

“Can I hear your new song? You still haven’t played for us.” he asks quietly, finally looking to the (H/C) haired mage.

“That song is kinda intense for while the party is sleeping, but I have a lullaby. Maybe it finally put you to sleep.” She laughs, letting go of his hand to dig through her back for her guitar.

As soon as she let go he found himself missing the feeling of her hand in his, what was once warm connection now was cold and lonely, why did she of all people make him feel like this?

Sitting back next to him she began strumming the strings in a soft melody, taking a deep breath before beginning her lullaby, “My sun, my moon, my darling dear,

kind Freya's gift to me.

The disirs dance around you and marvel at your bring.

Hamingja gives you happiness for all the joy you bring,

may Tyr please gift you courage and wisdom Memir brings.

May Loki give you clever wit and Thor to give you strength.

May Odin smile on you and Fenrir at your flank.

As Nott is flying overhead, please wish her a goodnight and let them all watch over you, they gifted you to life."

As she finished she looked up to be met with wide, tired eyes.

“That was amazing…” he mutters, staring at her in amazement as she set her guitar to the side.

(Y/N) smiles, “I sang that song to Gaelin every night… I can't help but wonder what I did wrong to lose him.” She lets out a tsk, glaring down at the floor, “Just another way the gods said fuck you.” picking up the once forgotten bottle and chugging down the rest.

“You did nothing wrong, the first week is always the hardest. Anything could’ve happened.” Chilchuck reassures her, holding out his hand again; he wasn’t great with emotions but he was trying his best. Trying his best for her.

“Thanks Chilchuck..” She took his hand again, sitting closer to him than before.

“Chil. Chilchuck is too formal. Especially now.” he chuckles, feeling her lay her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you Chil… you’re a good friend.” her words were quiet, smiling as he laid his head atop her own. She didn’t know it but those words made his heart flutter and yet hurt at the same time.

“Anytime (Y/N).” he felt his eyes grow heavy as they sat there in silent bliss.

The ground shook, jolting the sleeping party awake. (Y/N) woke with a gasp and shook her sleeping partner awake.

“The dragon..” Laius scrambled out of his sleeping bag as he spoke.

“Fuck…“ (Y/N) sucks in a breath through her teeth as she tries to assemble herself for the upcoming battle.

The party hurriedly got to the positions for the fight, (Y/N) bracing herself with her guitar and dagger, hiding to the side waiting for the dragon to arrive. As the steps got closer the party tensed, feeling the vibrations through the ground, rumbling them to their bones.

Before she could think she heard the explosion of Marcille’s magic, taking down the archway and bringing the dragon down with it, peeking over the rock she had hid herself behind to find the dragon buried under the rubble. Breathing a sigh of relief until it got caught in her throat.

The dragon pulled itself up from the crash and let out a blood curdling roar, aiming its fiery breath at the blondemage above it.

“Shit shit shit!” (Y/N) was running into the pathway before she could realize where her legs were carrying her, aggressively strumming the strings of her guitar, channeling all of her mana into her voice and guitar as she began to sing, hoping to distract the dragon and take it down.

“I’ve got a river running right into you

Ive got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

A taste of the devine

Youve my body flesh bone

Yeah

The sky above me

Earth below

Raise up again

Take me past the edge

I want to see the other side!”

Her efforts were fruitless, while yes distracting the dragon its anger now turned to her, her spell had no effect on the beast. Taking in one more breath to let out a scream, trying her damnedest to bring down the dragon like she once did with the kelpie.

As fire rained down she was scooped out of the way, sliding behind a rock to shield them from the fire. Nodding a thanks to Laius before looking over the rock to the dragon that clambered clumsily through the corridor.

“Don't move” Laius breathes out, looking up as the dragon walked over them, the sword in his hand ready to pierce the inverse scale. Quiet clanking erupted from the sword before it flew from his hand.

The dragon looked down at the sword before looking at the hiding party, clicking its tongue to light another fire. “RUN!” (Y/N) called out, desperation in her voice.

“Under its belly!” Laius instructs, sprinting for his life to hide under the dragon.

“Damn you Laius!” Chilchuck yelled as they ran.

“Look I’m sorry ok!?” Laius’ voice was strained as he came to a stop under the dragon.

“There are not enough curse words in the common language! Ponza! Tornado! Unerma! Poojam!” Chilchuck yelled at the Tall-man, glaring at him while he cursed at him in several language (Y/N) didn’t understand.

“Please don't cuss at me in a language I don't speak Chilchuck.” Laius cried.

“Do you have any plans, genius?” Chilchuck tried to keep his anger to a minimum.

“Guys, it looks really mad.”(Y/N) finally speaks, pointing to the dragon as it looks under at them.

“This way! Lets run out the tail side!” Laius yells over his shoulder as they begin to run, stopping in his tracks as the dragon rams its tail into the building, destroying the wall. “On second thought…”

“We’re so fucked…” (Y/N) sighs, looking behind them at the dragon.

“This is where we live now… under the red dragon's crotch.” Chilchuck says in shock, wondering if this would be how he died.

An explosion caught the dragon’s attention, leaving an opportunity to attack. Senshi swings his axe down on its foot, only to shatter on impact.

“Laius, throw me!” (Y/N) demands, pulling her dagger from her belt, “It’s not much but if i can reach the scale.” She looks up as the dragon moves, kicking them all away. (Y/N) sat in desperate thought, trying to think of anything to take the damn thing down.

Laius runs past her, stabbing the dragon’s foot with Senshi’s knife, “Wow! It really pierced through the scales!”

The dragon let out another roar as it tried to step on it’s attackers, backing the party away with each step.

(Y/N) grunts before readying her guitar once again and running under the dragon, ‘I need to give this one more try.’

“(Y/N) wait!” Chilchuck yells after her.

She took in a labored breath before screaming the lyrics again, ‘this is the rest of my mana, but i have to do this!’

“RAISE ME UP AGAIN

TAKE ME PAST THE EDGE

I WANT TO SEE THE OTHER SIDE!”

Strumming her guitar with all her might

“WONT YOU SHOW ME WHAT ITS LIKE”

As she played, Senshi ran past her, diving for Laius’ sword. The dragon’s foot came down, crushing him to the ground.

“NO” (Y/N) screamed, the dragon stumbled, giving enough time for Chilchuck to grab the knife from its foot and throw it, piercing its eyes and causing a scream like roar to erupt from its throat. The dragon crashed into the wall, tumbling the building down with it.

“LAIUS CATCH!” he screams, trying to lift the sword from the ground, all of his efforts stopped at the sword clung to the cobblestone floor.

Seshi grunts, pulling the sword from the ground and throwing it at Laius. Catching it Laius gets off the ground, running into the hole in the wall to find Marcille. “Senshi get up, we have to move!” (Y/N) cries, trying to lift him off the floor with the help of Chilchuck so they could run.

Laius yells as he’s launched onto the dragon clinging to the side of its head as it slammed him into another wall. The dragon bites down on his leg causing Laius to drop down, taking the opportunity to stab its inverse scale.

The dragon lets out one final roar before crashing to the ground. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief at it’s death. Marcille runs from the building to Laius’ side, looking at his now missing leg. (Y/N) help’s get Senshi off the ground before running to Laius as well.

“Shit ok we can heal this, right Marcille? We can fix this!” (Y/N) looks at his wound with panic.

“(Y/N) you’re out of mana.” Marcille shakes her head.

“I can do it, if I can’t do this then what use am I?” She snaps, looking around for his leg. Lining it together she holds out her hands, taking in labored breaths as she channels the last of her mana to reattach and heal his leg. Watching the skin reconnect was the last thing she saw before the world went black.

[monochromaticbeans]

I've never written an "x reader" before, so at my daughter's suggestion, I decided to give it a whirl. Here's a short bit of fluff featuring our Kazutora. 🧡🐯

***

The clinic was actually quiet for once, the sound of the air conditioning broken only by the occasional rustle of papers or a bark from one of the back kennels. You had just finished up with a particularly wiggly Dachshund when the front door chimed, announcing your next visitor.

And there he was: Kazutora Hanemiya, standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching a battered cat carrier as if it might explode.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat, glancing down at the carrier and then back at you. “Found another one.”

Of course he did.

Kazutora had become a semi-regular at the clinic over the past few months. His name was already written on your unofficial “stray savior” bingo card, right next to the likes of old Mrs. Tanaka, who brought in her tiny army of feral cats, and the delivery man who always spotted injured pigeons.

You smiled as you gestured for him to come in. “Let’s see what we’ve got this time.”

Kazutora set the carrier on the exam table with the sort of care usually reserved for handling priceless artifacts or sleeping dragons. The cat inside responded with a low growl—definutely not the happiest of campers.

As you coaxed the tabby out of the carrier, Kazutora leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. He still looked a bit out of place here, his bell earring and tattoo clashing with the clinic’s sterile walls and the staff’s pastel scrubs.

“Have you been working at the pet shop long?” you asked, glancing at him as you gently restrained the cat.

“A few months,” he replied. “Mostly stocking shelves and cleaning up after the animals. Not exactly glamorous, but it’s… nice.”

You nodded, carefully examining the tabby’s coat. “Bet you’re good at it, though. I’ve seen how patient you are with these guys.”

Kazutora shrugged, looking down at his boots. “It’s not hard. Animals don’t ask for much, you know? Just food, care… a little kindness.” His voice softened. “It’s easier than dealing with people.”

You paused, meeting his gaze. “People aren’t all bad, Kazutora. You just have to find the right ones.”

He didn’t reply, but there was a flicker of hesitation and something—hope, maybe—in his eyes.

Once the tabby was settled, you pulled a flyer from the stack by the desk and handed it to him.

“We’ve got a feral and stray cat program,” you explained. “It’s a trap-neuter-return initiative. Helps control the population and keeps the kitties healthier. You should mention it to the pet shop—maybe they can partner with us.”

Kazutora studied the flyer, his brow furrowing. “You think it’ll help?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said. “Programs like this make a huge difference. Plus, it’d give you guys more resources for the cats you take in. Win-win.”

He nodded slowly, tucking the flyer into his pocket. “I’ll talk to them about it. They're pretty cool about stuff like this.”

Kazutora stepped closer as you took the cat's vitals, watching intently as you checked her eyes, ears, and teeth.

“She’s pretty thin,” you murmured. “Have you been feeding her long?”

“A couple weeks,” he said. “She wouldn’t come near me at first, but… I don’t know. Guess she figured I wasn’t gonna hurt her.”

“That’s a big deal,” you said, glancing at him. “Earning a stray’s trust isn’t always easy.”

He shrugged again, but you caught the faintest hint of pride in his expression.

As you moved to check the cat’s paws, she squirmed, letting out a sharp yowl. Kazutora instinctively reached out to steady her but stopped halfway, looking uncertain.

“Here,” you said, guiding his hands. “Hold her like this—gentle but firm. Don’t let her feel like she’s trapped.”

He followed your instructions, his movements awkward but careful. The cat let out another half-hearted growl but settled in his grasp.

“You’re a natural,” you teased, offering a soft little smile.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

By the time the cat was back in her carrier, Kazutora was leaning against the counter again, watching as you typed notes into her medical chart.

“You’re good at this,” he said suddenly.

“At what?”

“Everything,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “The animals… talking to people… making them feel safe. It’s cool.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks. You’re pretty good at it yourself, you know.”

Kazutora frowned slightly, as if the idea didn’t quite sit well. “I just… don’t want them to feel alone.”

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. “They don’t. Not when they’re with you.”

For a moment, the room felt still, his unspoken thoughts hanging in the air. Then he cleared his throat, looking away.

As he gathered his things, you handed him a bag of food samples and the tabby’s aftercare instructions.

“Take care of her,” you said with a smile.

“I will.”

“And don’t forget about the stray cat program,” you added. “I’m serious—it’ll really help.”

Kazutora nodded, his hand patting the flyer in the pocket of his jacket. Then he hesitated, his hand lingering on the door.

“If… if I ever need help with this stuff,” he said quietly, “can I call you?”

You grinned, pulling a business card from the desk and scribbling your personal phone number on the back before slipping it into his hand. “Anytime.”

Kazutora stared at the card for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, a small, genuine smile breaking through his usual guarded demeanor.

“Thanks,” he said, a flicker of warmth in his golden eyes. “See you around.”

[itstobias149]

Little Macs Sibling Lore dump

Hey guys! Today I bring you a post made up of a collectionon of random lore drops about Marie through the eyes of Little Mac! I had a lot of fun, I'm sorry its such a long post. I hope you all enjoy it though.

This post contains stuff about my oc, if you don't like oc stuff this post may not be for you and that's okay! This is also based on my own Headcanons and ideas! Everyone has their own interpretation of the boxers and their stories and personlives and that's okay!

“Alright, so Marie’s like, my older sister or whatever, but I swear, she’s basically an old lady trapped in a chubby cutman’s body. She’s out here knitting scarves for nobody, like just endless scarves that pile up in her closet. She’s got this thing for baking cookies at 6 AM—6 AM!—like who wakes up thinking, ‘You know what the world needs right now? Snickerdoodles.’

Oh, and don’t get me started on her tea collection. It’s massive. She’s got every flavor you can think of, like she’s preparing for a tea apocalypse or something. You open her cupboard and BAM! It’s like a botanical garden exploded in there. She’s always watching those weird crime shows too—like, if you ask her about “Murder She Wrote,” she could probably write a dissertation on it.

And you know what really gets me? The puzzles. Marie will sit there at the kitchen table doing jigsaw puzzles for HOURS. Like, she’s got all these guys fawning over her, and she’s over here acting like a grandma just waiting for bingo night. It’s weird, but it’s Marie, y’know? Her card game obsession is just the cherry on top. She’s always trying to rope people into playing Gin Rummy or Canasta. If she doesn’t have anyone to play with, she’ll sit there doing solitaire, shuffling the cards like she’s in a Vegas casino. And don’t even think about beating her—she’s ruthless, calling out rules you’ve never heard of, like, ‘Actually, you can’t play that card because it’s Thursday.’

Marie also has these old-school habits that just make her seem even more like an old grandma, and I mean that in the funniest way possible. First off, she’s always trying to feed everyone. Doesn’t matter if you’re hungry or not—she’s like, ‘You’re too skinny, you need to eat.’ She’ll whip out a full meal in five minutes like it’s a magic trick. Fighter? Coach? Cameraman? You mention you are hungry and she just appears with food, where does it come from? Her big beehive?

And the food—oh, the food. Marie’s kitchen always smells like she’s been cooking for a village. She’s making kugel, latkes, stuffed cabbage—you name it. She even learned how to make her own challah, which she insists on braiding perfectly, and don’t even get me started on her chicken soup. It’s practically a cure-all. Got a cold? Soup. Bad day? Soup. Sprained your ankle? Guess what? Soup.

And the guilt trips? Oh, man. Classic Marie. Like if I don’t call her when I’m out late, she hits me with, ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll just sit here and wonder if my little brother is alive or in a ditch somewhere.’ I’m like, ‘Marie, I went to the store for five minutes!’ I get it I'm short and I'm only 17, but I've beaten guys that are three times my age and height.

Then there’s her obsession with coupons and deals. She’s not even strapped for cash, but if she gets something full price, she acts like she’s personally betrayed her ancestors. She’s all about ‘Why pay $5 when you could pay $4.75?’

Oh, and holidays? Forget about it. She goes ALL OUT. Passover, Hanukkah, you name it—she’s dragging me to synagogue, making matzo ball soup, and lecturing me on traditions like I’m in Sunday school again. But honestly, it’s kinda nice. Makes things feel like home.

Marie’s just got this old Jewish lady energy, even though she’s… y’know, Marie. It’s like she’s channeling generations of bubbes, but in her own chaotic, lovable way.”

“Oh man, don’t even get me started on Marie’s house. It’s like stepping into a time capsule. She’s got these old decorations everywhere—like, actual antiques. She’s got menorahs that look like they came straight out of the shtetl, ceramic pomegranates, and a hamsa on every other wall. There’s even this weird old clock that doesn’t work, but she won’t get rid of it because ‘it has character.’

And then there’s the singing. If she’s cleaning, cooking, or just puttering around the house, you know she’s gonna be singing something in Yiddish. It’s like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it half the time. She’ll be scrubbing a pan and humming ‘Tumbalalaika’ or ‘Bei Mir Bistu Shein.’ Sometimes she gets into it and starts belting out like she’s on stage, and I’m just sitting there like, ‘You good, Marie?’

It’s honestly kinda comforting, though. Like, it’s chaotic, but it’s her. I mean, yeah, she’s got this whole grandma vibe, but it just makes the place feel warm and alive. Even if she’s singing so loud the neighbors can hear.”

“Okay, so Marie’s list of grandma activities is endless. Like, she collects random jars and containers. Doesn’t matter if it’s an old pickle jar or a tin from cookies—she’ll clean it out and say something like, ‘You never know when you’ll need a good jar.’ Now her cabinets are full of ‘em, and I swear, half of them are empty.

She’s obsessed with gardening, but not, like, normal plants—she’s growing herbs and weird flowers that I’m convinced nobody’s even heard of. She’ll come in with dirt on her face like, ‘Look, Little Mac, my rosemary’s thriving!’ Meanwhile, I can barely keep a cactus alive.

Oh, and she’s got this thing with handwritten notes. Like, she refuses to use her phone for reminders. Instead, she’ll write down recipes, to-do lists, or random thoughts on little scraps of paper—and they’re everywhere. You’ll find ‘em in her coat pockets, on the fridge, even in the bathroom.

Then there’s her perfume collection, which is wild. She’s got these vintage bottles that look like they came out of a 1920s department store. And the scents? They’re super flowery or musky, like classic grandma fragrances. She’s always dabbing it on her wrists like it’s a ritual, and if you say it’s strong, she’ll just shrug and say, ‘That’s how you know it’s good.’

And her dishes—oh boy. Marie’s got the fanciest plates and bowls, but they’re so old-school they’ve probably been passed down for generations. She’s got these blue and white porcelain plates she only uses for special occasions and some glassware that’s so delicate she practically makes you sign a waiver before touching it. Meanwhile, she’ll serve you cookies on a little tray that looks like it belongs in a museum.

Marie’s collections are a big part of who she is—they tell stories of her past, her culture, and her unique personality. Walking into her apartment is like stepping into a cozy, lived-in museum of sorts. It’s a collection of memories, keepsakes, and things that hold sentimental value. But at the same time, it feels like home, a space that’s warm and inviting despite all the stuff packed into every nook and cranny.

First, there’s her collection of old religious items. You can’t miss them. She’s got candles, menorahs, and even an antique silver kiddush cup that’s been passed down through generations. When she talks about these objects, you can see the reverence in her eyes—they’re not just decorations; they’re links to her family’s past, to the traditions her grandparents carried with them from Europe. She’s got prayer books in Yiddish and Hebrew, their pages yellowed with age, some of them with notes written in the margins. It’s clear that every item in her collection has a story, a memory attached to it.

Then there are her trinkets—lots of small figurines and dolls from different cultures. Some are from her travels, like the little wooden figurines from Slovakia or the hand-painted pottery she bought when she visited Romania. They’re scattered around her living room, on shelves or in glass cabinets, like little time capsules. Each one seems to have a story of where she’s been, who she was with, or something important that happened in her life. Some of the pieces are quirky—like the hand-carved wooden clown from a street market in Prague—but others are so intricate and beautiful, I can’t help but admire the craftsmanship.

Marie also collects vintage cookbooks. Old ones, some of them falling apart from how much she’s used them. She’s got this one cookbook that’s a hundred years old, and she’s used it so much that the pages are stained with grease and food marks. She said it belonged to her grandmother, who taught her how to cook all those old-world recipes. Every time I look at it, I can’t help but think about how much history is packed into those pages. You can tell these aren’t just recipes; they’re part of her family’s identity. Whenever she cooks, she’s connecting with her roots, with the women who came before her. It’s like she’s passing the knowledge down, one meal at a time.

There’s also a whole section of her home that’s dedicated to vintage postcards. She’s been collecting them for years—mostly ones from different places she’s been, but also some old ones she’s found at thrift stores or flea markets. They’re mostly from the early 1900s, showing cities, landmarks, and scenes from long ago. I remember her showing me one of New York from the 1920s, and she told me that her great-grandparents used to live in that exact neighborhood. It’s amazing how these little postcards capture a moment in time—like frozen memories of lives that were lived long before we came along.

And then, of course, there’s the collection of old dishes and teacups. She’s got this collection of mismatched, delicate porcelain teacups—most of them from different countries. There’s one that she’s really fond of, a cup with little roses painted on it that she got from a shop in Vienna. She says it reminds her of when she visited the city with her mother, back when things were simpler. Sometimes, on quiet afternoons, she’ll pull out one of her favorite cups, brew a pot of tea, and we’ll sit and chat, letting the time slip by. It’s like she’s recreating those small, intimate moments of her past, making new memories with each cup.

I’ve noticed how Marie’s collections aren’t just about having stuff; they’re a reflection of her life, her history, and her connection to both her Jewish roots and the cultures she’s grown up around. Sometimes, when she’s showing me her collections, it’s like she’s telling me pieces of her story without saying much at all. It’s in the way she talks about the items, the pride in her voice when she tells me the history behind them. It’s almost like these collections are her way of holding onto the past while moving forward—an acknowledgment of where she’s come from, and a way of keeping it all alive.

The coolest part, though, is how she’s started teaching me about her collections, how she’s opened up about the stories behind each item. I’ve learned so much from her—about her family, her heritage, and her way of seeing the world. She’s passed along some of the old cooking techniques from her family’s recipes, the way they used to stretch a meal and make everything from scratch. And every time we cook together, it feels like I’m adding my own little piece to her collection—like I’m a part of her story now, too.

Marie’s collections have this way of connecting the past and present, of honoring where she’s come from while she builds her life here and now. And even though I’m not really a collector, it’s hard not to get caught up in the magic of it all—the way she looks at each item, the pride she takes in preserving these pieces of her life. It’s not just about the things she owns; it’s about the memories they hold, the people they’ve connected her to, and the legacy she’s continuing. It’s a big part of why being with her feels like being part of something so much bigger than just the two of us.

Marie’s collection of old quilts and handmade clothes is probably one of the most personal and heartfelt parts of her home. Each piece is like a patchwork of memories, not just fabric, but moments in time, stories of hands that sewed them, and the love that went into making them. I’ve always been amazed by the way she talks about her quilts—how each stitch feels like it holds a piece of her family’s history.

The quilts are incredible. Some of them are centuries old, handed down from her great-grandmother and others from her mother. They’re faded now, the colors soft and worn, but they’ve got this warmth to them—almost like they still carry the imprint of the hands that created them. I remember the first time I saw them, spread out across her bed like a tapestry of the past. The designs are intricate, sometimes even abstract, and Marie can tell you exactly where each one came from. Some are made from fabric scraps, leftovers from clothes that her family wore, while others are more meticulously designed patterns that took hours to stitch together.

I think what really strikes me about the quilts is the level of care in each one. Marie says her grandmother made them during the tough years when they didn’t have much. They used whatever fabric they could get their hands on—old dresses, scraps from coats, bits of whatever they could salvage—and then she’d sew them all together into something beautiful and functional. It’s not just about making something to keep warm; it’s about creating something from nothing, something that could be passed down, that would be there to tell the family’s story.

Marie’s not only a collector of these quilts—she’s a maker, too. She’s shown me how she still hand-stitches some of the smaller repairs or adds new designs to the older quilts, kind of like preserving them, but also giving them a little life of their own. She told me that it’s part of how she connects with her family, with the women who came before her. Each stitch she adds feels like she’s participating in the same tradition, carrying it on in her own way. I never really understood how something like that could feel so personal, but when you see the care and attention she gives to each piece, it’s hard not to feel the love in it.

And then there are the handmade clothes. Marie’s always been into crafting—knitting, sewing, crocheting. She has this incredible collection of vintage sewing patterns that she’s gotten from all over the world, some dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen her pull out these old patterns with these beautiful, detailed drawings of women’s dresses, coats, and even accessories, and she’ll talk about how she wants to try them out one day. She’s made everything from wool cardigans to hand-sewn dresses, each one unique, each one a work of art. The fabrics she uses are often vintage, too—like old silk from her travels or linen she picked up at a market in Spain—and she’s so particular about every little detail. I’ve watched her sew late into the night, her hands moving over the fabric with this incredible focus, like she’s channeling the spirit of all the seamstresses in her family.

One of the most special things she’s made, though, is a sweater she knitted for me. She gave it to me last winter, and when I first saw it, I couldn’t believe how much care she’d put into every stitch. The yarn was this deep blue, soft and thick, perfect for the cold weather. I don’t know if she meant for it to be anything more than a simple sweater, but when I put it on, I felt like I was wearing a piece of her heart. I wear it all the time now, especially when it gets cold, and it always makes me feel close to her, like I’m wrapped in her warmth.

What I love most about Marie’s quilts and handmade clothes, though, is how they represent her dedication to the people she loves. It’s not just about creating something beautiful—it’s about making something that lasts, that can be passed down through the generations, just like the quilts and clothes from her ancestors. It’s like she’s making her own legacy, stitch by stitch, and with each quilt she adds to her collection, each sweater she knits, she’s making a piece of history for the future. Even though she’s modern, her love for these handmade creations feels timeless, as though she’s carrying a tradition forward that might otherwise be lost. And every time I see her working on one of her projects, I’m reminded of how much of her heart goes into everything she does.

Then there’s her knitting addiction. She’s making blankets, socks, and hats for everyone. And she doesn’t just stop at knitting—she crochets too. Sometimes she’ll call me over and be like, ‘Try this on,’ and it’s some oversized sweater that I’m not even sure fits me.

Oh, and Marie LOVES writing letters. Like, actual letters with envelopes and stamps. She’ll sit at the table for hours with her fancy pens, writing to people who probably won’t even write back. She says it’s ‘more personal.’

I’m telling you, she’s basically 80 years old in a younger body. It’s kinda hilarious, but also weirdly comforting.”

“Okay, so I get it—Marie’s an immigrant from Germany, and her late family was super traditional. She’s told me the stories a million times: how they kept kosher, how her mom would light candles every Friday night, and how her dad used to lecture her about the importance of keeping traditions alive. Like, I know where all her quirks come from.

But sometimes I look at her and think, ‘Marie, we’re not in the old country anymore.’ Like, I’m pretty sure nobody else in the WVBA is sitting down to hand-roll kreplach or yelling at the TV in Yiddish when the news is on. And yet, there she is, making gefilte fish from scratch and humming old folk songs while she does it.

I get that her upbringing made her who she is, and I respect it—I really do. But Marie takes it to a whole new level. She’s out here sewing patches onto my clothes, like it’s 1935 and I can’t just buy a new jacket. Or she’ll tell me things like, ‘In my family, we always did this,’ while setting the table with enough food to feed the entire league.

Okay, so yeah, Marie’s got all these old-school habits, but honestly? She’s been teaching me a ton of stuff that’s actually useful. Like, she’s a master at stretching a dollar. I used to think meal prepping was just for fitness buffs, but nope—Marie’s out here making meals that last a week, and they taste better every day. I’ve learned how to make a mean pot of chicken soup, and now I’m the guy everyone calls when they’re sick.

She’s also big on fixing things instead of throwing them out. My gloves were falling apart, and I was ready to toss them, but she showed me how to sew them up. I know, sewing doesn’t sound tough, but you’d be surprised how handy it is when you’re training and gear gets worn out.

And her cooking? It’s like a crash course in survival. She’s teaching me all these recipes that are cheap, filling, and taste amazing—latkes, kugel, even braided challah. She says it’s about ‘taking care of your people,’ and now I feel like I could feed an army if I had to.

She’s even teaching me some Yiddish phrases, which is great for trash-talking in the ring without anyone knowing. Marie says, ‘If you’re gonna call someone a nudnik, at least do it with flair.’

So yeah, she’s old-fashioned, but it’s like having my own personal life coach. I don’t just get a sister—I get a survival guide, a tailor, and a chef all rolled into one.

It’s like she’s stuck between being this old-world Jewish bubbe and a modern-day cutman, and somehow, it works for her. It’s just… sometimes I have to remind her that we’re in New York, not a little shtetl in Germany. It’s funny how people can look at Marie and think she’s just this old, traditional lady, but they don’t always know the full story. I’ve heard her talk about her parents, and honestly, it’s a bit heartbreaking. Her mom and dad, they were born and raised in Germany, and they had that old-school, strict mindset that a lot of people from their generation carried with them. You know, they had lived through a lot—survived the war, rebuilt their lives—and they were determined to keep their family traditions alive, even if that meant keeping a tight grip on Marie. They weren’t bad people, but they were overbearing in a way that you’d only understand if you were raised in a time and place like that.

She was expected to follow the rules, do things the “right” way, and stick to their ideals. It was all about preserving the family name, the old customs, the way things had been passed down from generation to generation. And I get it—her parents went through things most people can’t even imagine. They lived through the worst of history, and their experiences shaped how they viewed the world. They probably just wanted to protect Marie from the chaos that had torn apart their lives and their home. But that didn’t mean she had to stay trapped in that mindset forever.

Marie’s always been this independent spirit, though. She’s got her own opinions, her own ideas about how things should be, and as much as she respected her parents, she didn’t agree with a lot of the things they pushed on her. She loved them, no doubt, but she needed more than just their way of living. It wasn’t until after they passed that Marie felt like she could truly breathe, like she was finally free to make her own choices and live her life on her terms. I think that’s when she really came into her own. That’s when she left Germany and came here, looking for something different, something that would allow her to be herself.

It wasn’t easy, though. Coming to a new country, starting fresh, and breaking away from the expectations her parents had set for her—it was all a huge challenge. But that’s Marie. She’s never been one to back down, and even though she didn’t agree with the way her parents had raised her, she understood where they were coming from. They’d lived through the worst times in history, and for them, that kind of control was just a way of coping with everything they’d lost. But for Marie, it was suffocating. She wasn’t going to live a life defined by fear or by the shadows of the past. She came to us, to America, for freedom—freedom to be who she truly was, to make her own path, and to define her own future.

It wasn’t like she rejected everything they taught her—she still holds onto parts of her heritage, her culture, and the values that shaped her. But she learned that she didn’t have to live under the weight of their rules, and that’s something she’s always fought for. She believes in embracing the past, but she also believes in moving forward, in creating a life that’s her own. That’s why she’s so willing to learn from others, to hear different perspectives, and to understand people from all walks of life. It’s her way of reclaiming her own identity, and I think that’s what makes her so special.

She doesn’t talk about it much, but I know that leaving Germany wasn’t just about escaping her parents—it was about finding herself, finding a place where she didn’t have to live in anyone’s shadow. And when she came here, she didn’t just step into the world that awaited her; she built her own life, on her own terms. It’s something I admire a lot about her—she took the lessons from her past, the struggles she went through, and used them to shape the woman she is today. She’s proud of her roots, but she knows she can’t be confined by them. That’s Marie—always pushing forward, always staying true to herself, no matter where she came from or who tried to hold her back.

But outside of her old ways her opinions are pretty modern. She is for the people, for the minorities. You know, sometimes Marie comes off as old-fashioned, especially with the way she carries herself. She’s got her routines—like making sure everyone’s got enough to eat, or making time for her old-school traditions, like keeping the house cozy with homemade quilts or sitting down with a good book. People might look at her and think she’s just this sweet, old lady who’s stuck in the past, but they couldn’t be more wrong. She’s actually one of the most forward-thinking people I know, especially when it comes to social justice.

It might not always look that way, but Marie’s got this fire inside her. She doesn’t just sit back and accept things because “that’s how it’s always been.” If she sees something she thinks is wrong, you can bet she’s going to stand up for it—no matter the situation. She might be the one sitting in a quiet corner at a dinner party, but when it comes to speaking out, she doesn’t hesitate for a second.

I’ve seen her go toe-to-toe with people who try to put others down, especially when it comes to injustice. Whether it’s racism, discrimination, or people being treated unfairly, she’s never afraid to call it out. It’s not always dramatic—she doesn’t make a big scene—but you can feel the power of her words when she does speak up. I remember this one time when a few of the boxers were making some off-hand remarks about someone’s culture, and Marie didn’t let it slide. She didn’t lecture them, but she calmly told them how those kinds of comments were hurtful, how important it was to respect every person’s background, no matter where they come from. The room got quiet, and for a moment, I think everyone realized how much they’d been missing—how easy it was to fall into ignorance if you didn’t stop and think.

Marie’s not the kind of person who makes a big deal about it, but when she stands up for what’s right, people listen. She’s never one to shy away from a conversation, especially if it means standing up for the underdog. I’ve seen her defend workers in the stores she shops at, the people who’ve been overlooked by others. It doesn’t matter if it’s someone cleaning the floors or serving food—Marie sees people as people, and if she feels like they’re not being treated right, she’ll speak up. She’s taught me that being kind and respectful isn’t just about showing love to people who are easy to love—it’s about standing up for the ones who might be forgotten or mistreated, too.

I think part of it comes from the way she was raised—growing up in a tough time and learning that you’ve got to fight for what’s right. It’s a different world now, but Marie’s sense of justice hasn’t changed. She was taught that you stand up for the people who don’t have a voice, that you make sure everyone gets a fair chance. She doesn’t just fight for others when it’s convenient or when it’s easy. She does it because she believes it’s the right thing to do.

And even though she’s old-fashioned in some ways, it’s clear that she’s got a modern heart. She understands the struggles people are going through today, and she’s got a strong opinion about how things should change. Whether it’s talking to one of the boxers about their behavior or stepping up for a cause she believes in, Marie is never one to back down. She may be gentle, but she’s got a backbone made of steel.

It’s honestly kind of amazing to see someone so rooted in tradition still push for progress. She reminds me all the time that standing up for others doesn’t have to be loud or flashy—it’s about doing the right thing even when nobody’s looking. That’s the real power she has: making sure people are treated with dignity and respect, no matter who they are or where they come from. And to me, that makes her more modern than a lot of people I know, despite the fact that she’s into old quilts and listening to language tapes. She’s got a wisdom that comes from experience, and I can’t think of a better role model.

“I mean, I’ve always been Catholic, y’know? It’s kind of in my blood. I’m Hispanic, so that whole church thing was a big part of growing up. Sunday mornings meant heading to church with my mom, and then there’d be the whole family afterwards for a big meal, and of course, we’d say grace before we ate. It’s just… tradition. My mom would make me sit still through the whole mass, even when I wanted to run around as a kid, and she’d always say the rosary with me at night before bed, counting the beads like it was a ritual. I’d pray to the Virgin Mary and Jesus, asking for guidance. It was something I didn’t always get, but it was comforting, like it grounded me in a way. Even if I didn’t understand all the words or the history behind everything, there was this peace in it. Church was a space for me to reset, y’know?

Then, there’s Marie. She’s Jewish—born and raised, and her family’s super traditional. I know she grew up with a lot of the same values, just with a different foundation. Every time I stay with her, I learn a little more about her culture and her faith, and she’s always open to hearing about mine too. I don’t think I ever realized how much I didn’t know about her traditions until she started explaining it. For example, she told me about Shabbat, how every Friday night, she lights candles, says a prayer, and makes everything peaceful for the weekend. It’s such a simple but deep thing, right? She said it’s about setting the tone for the rest of the week—something like that. Honestly, I was kind of surprised by how similar it felt to what we do, except ours is on Sundays. She also explained how lighting the candles is a way to honor the Sabbath, and I thought that was powerful. She said the prayer in Hebrew, and I couldn’t really catch all of it, but the way she said it… there was this calmness to it. I wanted to understand it more.

One night, I asked her about some of the prayers she says before meals, and she told me about the bracha, the blessing over bread. That was something I had never heard of. She said, ‘Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth,’ and she explained how it’s this deep connection to what the earth gives us. I liked that. It felt really… connected, you know? Like, appreciating where food comes from, where life comes from. I actually started saying a little prayer in my head after hearing hers, kind of like how we do grace before meals. It wasn’t exactly the same, but the feeling behind it—being thankful, taking a moment to appreciate what we have—it made sense to me. It’s not that different when you really think about it.

She’s even asked me to teach her some of the Catholic traditions, like the rosary. I showed her how we pray with the beads and how the Hail Mary and Our Father are part of our routine. At first, she didn’t really get it—like, ‘Why do you have to repeat so many prayers?’ But as I explained it to her, she seemed to find it interesting. She said something like, ‘It’s kind of like meditating, right? Repeating the words to focus your mind?’ And I guess, in a way, she’s right. It’s not just about the words, but about the mindset. About putting your trust in something bigger than yourself, taking a minute to just breathe and let go.

It’s funny because sometimes we’ll sit together, each of us in our own little world, practicing our faiths in the way we know how, but we never judge each other. Instead, it’s like we’re both learning from one another. I’ll catch her lighting candles, and sometimes, without even thinking, I’ll say a prayer to myself. Or we’ll sit down for a meal, and she’ll say her bracha while I quietly say grace. There’s no conflict, no “this is better than that.” It’s just… respect. We’re different, but there’s a shared understanding that both of our faiths are important parts of who we are.

I remember one day, I was feeling kind of off after training, and Marie noticed. She looked at me and said, ‘Maybe you should say a prayer for strength.’ She didn’t know what I usually do, but I felt like, for once, I didn’t have to explain. I just said, ‘Yeah, I think I will.’ And we both took a moment, in our own ways, to connect with something bigger than us. I said my rosary prayer, and she said one of her own, and it was like, for just a moment, we were both in the same place spiritually.

Honestly, the more we talk about it, the more I realize that faith isn’t just about the specifics of the tradition. It’s about believing in something, having that foundation to stand on when life gets tough. And Marie… she’s shown me that while our religions might look different on the surface, the core of it is the same: love, family, tradition, and a deep appreciation for the life we’ve been given. And, I guess, in that way, we teach each other, without even trying.”

“Man, when I think about how Marie and I have blended our cultures together, it feels like it’s more than just about food or traditions—it’s about a deeper connection. We’re from different worlds, right? Me, with my Hispanic background, raised in a Catholic household, and her, with her Jewish upbringing, coming from a family that holds onto traditions like they’re a lifeline. At first, I didn’t think we’d have that much in common when it came to holidays or meals or anything like that, but as we started sharing more of ourselves with each other, I realized it’s all about finding that space where both of our worlds can exist side by side.

I remember the first time I went with Marie to her family’s Shabbat dinner. It was so different from anything I’d ever experienced. The candles, the prayers, the way everyone gathered around the table to share the bread and wine—it felt intimate, spiritual. I had never been part of anything like that before. And I’ll admit, I didn’t fully understand all the prayers or the Hebrew, but I could feel something deep, like this connection to the past, to her ancestors. It was like they were carrying on something that meant so much, something that had been passed down for generations. There was such a reverence in the room, a respect for tradition. I felt like an outsider at first, but Marie, she didn’t make me feel that way. She just told me to do what felt right, and that was enough.

And then, she started asking me about my own traditions. I remember the first time I talked about Día de los Muertos with her. She didn’t know much about it—how we honor our loved ones, set up altars with candles, marigolds, and pictures, and how the food, like pan de muerto, is a symbol of life and death coexisting. I could tell it really resonated with her. She asked a million questions, like she was trying to understand the whole concept—not just the rituals, but what it meant to me, how it shaped my perspective on life and death. And I think that’s when I realized: it wasn’t about just explaining a holiday; it was about explaining a part of myself. Sharing that with her felt like we were connecting on a deeper level than I ever imagined.

When we decided to merge our two cultures for Christmas last year, that’s when it really hit me how much we were growing together. I cooked up some tamales, and she made her famous latkes. I swear, she was more excited about my tamales than I was—she was curious about every little detail, asking how I wrapped the masa, what kind of fillings I liked. And when it came time for dinner, we sat down together, and it wasn’t just about eating—it was like a celebration of both our families, both our histories. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that meal was a symbol of us coming together in this space we created—our own little mix of everything.

But it’s not just the meals or the holidays. It’s how we’ve both started weaving bits of each other’s cultures into our everyday lives. Like when Marie would teach me the Yiddish words her grandmother taught her, and I’d throw in some Spanish phrases she didn’t know. Or when we started making room in our lives for both the rosary and the Shabbat candles—one for the end of the week, the other for the beginning. It’s small stuff, but it feels monumental, like we’re building this bridge between us, brick by brick, until the difference between us doesn’t feel so different at all.

And the best part is, we don’t feel like we have to choose one over the other. It’s not about me abandoning my roots or her abandoning hers. It’s about realizing that the beauty of our relationship isn’t in our sameness, but in how we’ve learned to respect and embrace each other’s differences. It’s like each holiday, each meal, each little ritual, is a way to say, ‘I see you. I understand where you come from. And I want to be a part of that.’

We’ve built our own traditions now—ones that mix the old and the new. Like, this past year, we decided to make a whole bunch of different dishes for Thanksgiving. We had the turkey and the stuffing, of course, but we also had marinated brisket, challah bread, and tamales. It was a weird combo at first, but when we sat down to eat, I realized that this—this was the new tradition. It wasn’t just one holiday, one culture, or one history; it was a reflection of both of us, coming together and carving out something that was uniquely ours.

And the deeper I get into all this, the more I realize it’s not about any one meal or prayer—it’s about what those things represent. It’s about learning the sacredness in each other’s customs and realizing that, even though we’re from different backgrounds, we’re both carrying pieces of something bigger. That’s what’s made this whole journey with Marie so special: it’s not just about learning from each other, it’s about creating something new together, something that honors both of our pasts while looking forward to the future we’re building.”

Marie’s always looking for ways to connect with people, even when it’s hard. She’ll invite the other boxers over for dinner or lunch, and it’s not just about feeding them—it’s about sharing something, learning from each other, and seeing if they can break through the barriers that sometimes exist between them. I’ve seen it firsthand. No matter how different the boxers are, or how much tension might be between them, she’ll set a table for everyone. Whether they’re from different parts of the world, speak different languages, or come from different cultures, she’s always trying to create this space where people can connect.

Marie doesn’t expect miracles. She knows she can’t always get along with everyone, and she knows that sometimes, people aren’t going to suddenly become best friends just because there’s food on the table. But she tries anyway. She makes an effort to make sure everyone feels heard, even if it’s not easy. I’ve seen her with Bald Bull and Soda Popinski—those two can barely stand each other, but somehow, at one of Marie’s dinners, the tension fades a little. It’s not like they forget their differences, but it’s like they understand each other a little better. They’ll start talking about their hometowns or their favorite foods, and even if it’s just for that moment, the rivalry takes a backseat.

She’s got this deep need to get to know people, not just as boxers but as individuals. She’s always looking for common ground, always trying to understand where someone’s coming from. It’s not always about speaking the same language; it’s about making the effort, showing respect, and being curious. That’s why you’ll find her listening to language tapes in the car on the way to the gym or before bed. I don’t think she ever stops trying to learn. She’s always listening to lessons in German, Yiddish, Ladino, or Spanish, working on something new to help her communicate better. It’s one of the things I admire most about her—she’s not content just knowing what she knows. She wants to understand more, and she’s willing to put in the work to bridge those gaps.

And even though not everyone gets along, she still believes in the value of that connection. She knows there are going to be days when the boxers clash or when there’s a rough atmosphere in the gym, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to build something different. If she can’t make them all get along, at least she can try to give them the tools to understand each other better. She’s not a miracle worker, but she’s definitely a bridge builder. It’s something small, but it has a big impact. Even if they don’t always see eye to eye, I think they leave her dinners with a little more respect for each other and the cultures they come from.

Sometimes it’s the smallest gestures that mean the most. She doesn’t ask for much in return—she doesn’t expect anyone to suddenly speak fluent Yiddish or learn all about her background in a day. But it’s the effort she puts in, the conversations she sparks, that slowly starts to change things. I think it’s part of who she is—this belief that no matter where someone’s from or how different they seem, there’s always something you can learn from each other. It’s not easy work, and sometimes it feels like it’s not making much of a difference, but she’s always at it, trying to make the world a little smaller, one dinner at a time.

Oh, man, Marie’s definitely had her moments with the language barrier. It’s actually kind of funny how hard she tries, and how sometimes, it just doesn’t go the way she plans.

I remember this one dinner with a few of the boxers—Bald Bull, Soda, and a couple of others. Marie was really excited because she’d been studying a bit of Turkish for a while, trying to connect with Bald Bull more. She had this whole plan to surprise him by speaking a little Turkish when he arrived, and she’d been listening to language tapes for days. So, she’s all pumped, right? The food’s ready, and she says to Bald Bull, “Hoş geldiniz!” (which means “Welcome”), and she’s smiling real big, waiting for his reaction.

Bald Bull just stands there, blinking for a second, and then he says, “What’d you say? Is that a new kind of soup?”

Marie’s face went from excited to totally confused, and we all just started laughing. It turns out she’d gotten one of the phrases wrong. She’d meant to say something welcoming, but it sounded like she was offering him a bowl of something. Bald Bull wasn’t upset, though. He actually laughed, too, and started teasing her about being “fluent in food, not language.”

It was funny, but it also showed just how hard she works to make that connection. She could’ve easily just stuck to speaking English, or German, or whatever she knew best, but no—she’s always pushing herself, trying to speak someone else’s language, even if it doesn’t come out perfectly. And honestly, even though it didn’t go as planned, it meant a lot that she tried. After that, Bald Bull was actually way more open to talking to her, even teaching her some Turkish words. He got a kick out of it, and by the end of the night, everyone was joking around in a mix of languages—English, Yiddish, Turkish, even a little Spanish from me.

Marie’s always learning and pushing herself, but she doesn’t take herself too seriously when things don’t go perfectly. The language barrier’s still there, but she doesn’t let it stop her. That’s just Marie. She’ll stumble, but she’ll keep going, even if it means saying something that makes everyone laugh.

Oh, Marie’s always so thoughtful about these things, so before she gives anyone a hug or that European cheek kiss, she always checks with the management first. She doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable—she’s just naturally affectionate, you know? She’ll ask them, “Is it okay if I greet him this way? I just want to make sure it’s not too much.” She’s got this polite, considerate side that’s honestly kind of funny considering how enthusiastically she greets people.

But sometimes, it doesn’t always go as smoothly as she thinks. I remember one time, Marie had just been told by management that it was fine to greet this new boxer from Eastern Europe with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They’d said it was cool, so Marie went for it—no hesitation. She walks up to the guy, big smile on her face, arms open wide, and as she goes in for the hug, you could see the panic in his eyes. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.

He tries to awkwardly sidestep her, but Marie’s already there, giving him this big warm hug, and then she quickly plants a kiss on his cheek, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But here’s the thing—this guy doesn’t even know how to react. He turns bright red, completely flustered, and backs up a little like he’s trying to get his bearings. At first, he’s just standing there, looking around like he’s trying to figure out if he’s supposed to do something in return. Is he supposed to kiss her cheek back? Hug her again? What was happening?!

Marie, not missing a beat, just smiles at him and says, “There, see? Wasn’t that easy?” as if it’s a casual, everyday greeting.

But this poor guy? His face goes even redder, and he starts mumbling in a mix of broken English and his native language. He’s flustered, trying to explain he’s not used to the whole European cheek-kiss thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her—it was just, well, a cultural shock. He looks over at the other boxers like he’s hoping for some guidance, but everyone else is trying to hold in their laughter, not wanting to make it worse.

Then, just to add to the comedy of the situation, one of the other guys (who’s seen Marie do this a hundred times) leans over and says, “It’s okay, buddy. Just wait until you get the full Marie treatment—you’ll get used to it!”

It wasn’t that the guy didn’t appreciate the greeting, but the suddenness of it caught him totally off guard. After that, he made a point of giving Marie a little wave every time they passed by, but still kept a bit of a distance—like he wasn’t quite ready for the full embrace yet.

Marie, though? She just laughed it off, completely unaware of how flustered he was, and continued to ask management about the next person she’d be meeting. She never wants to make anyone uncomfortable, but she’s definitely got that big, heart-on-her-sleeve attitude that sometimes takes people by surprise.

Man, when I think about Marie, there’s a lot I could say. She’s definitely not perfect—nobody is, right? She’s got her quirks, her old-school habits, and sometimes, she comes off a little… overbearing. But in a lot of ways, that’s what makes her who she is, and honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing.

She’s a hugger(sometimes), always going for those big, warm embraces, and the European kiss on the cheek greeting is so her. I’ve seen her catch people off guard with it—guys who aren’t used to that kind of thing. She’ll greet anyone like they’re family, whether it’s Bald Bull, Soda Popinski, or some new guy we’re training with. Sometimes, they’re flustered or confused at first, but they come to appreciate it. She doesn’t judge people, and she doesn’t care where they come from. She just wants to make sure they feel welcomed. And that includes asking management if it’s okay to greet someone that way, making sure no one’s uncomfortable.

Marie’s got a lot of old traditions—she loves her Yiddish, her German roots, and her ethnic foods. She cooks like you’re at your grandma’s house, and she’ll make sure you know every single ingredient in that dish, even if it’s hard to pronounce. And don’t even get me started on how she’s always trying to learn new languages—she’s listening to tapes in the car, studying words late at night, just so she can connect with the guys better. She knows it’s not always going to work, but she tries anyway. Even when there’s a language barrier, she’s trying to make that bridge. It’s like she believes that communication, no matter how imperfect, is key.

She’ll invite boxers over to dinner, even if they’re from different cultures, just to get to know them. Sometimes it’s awkward, sometimes it’s a little weird, but she makes it work. I’ve seen her do it—making those cultural exchanges happen, finding something in common, and trying to break down those walls. Even when they don’t get along, she’s there, working her hardest to build some kind of understanding. She doesn’t let differences keep her from trying to make people feel at home, even if it’s a battle sometimes.

Now, I’ve seen the way she handles things with her family, too. Her parents were strict, real traditional—especially with her being Jewish and growing up in Germany. They had a way of thinking that didn’t always mesh with Marie’s need for freedom. She didn’t agree with everything they said or did. When they passed, she left for the U.S. She came here for a new life, for more opportunities, and for the chance to live on her own terms. She didn’t let anyone hold her back, and that took a lot of courage.

She’s got a big heart, but she’s also a fighter in her own right. She stands up for social justice, even when it’s not popular. You don’t always see it, but she’s got that fire. She might not be loud about it, but she’s quietly pushing for what’s right, helping people out in the ways she can.

But yeah, she’s not perfect. Sometimes she’s overbearing, sometimes she’s got her own ways that don’t always make sense to everyone, and sometimes she makes things awkward with her affection or language mishaps. But that’s what makes her Marie. She’s real. She’s stubborn, kind-hearted, and she doesn’t stop trying to make the world a little better—whether it’s through food, hugs, or just taking the time to learn about people. And to me? That’s enough. She’s family, and I’m proud to have her as my sister.

P.S. If you ever find yourself at one of her dinners and you see her pull out a dish that looks like it came straight out of a history book, just smile, nod, and eat it. You’ll be fine—unless it’s one of her experimental Yiddish-Slovak fusion dishes… then just pray you survive the taste test.

P.P.S. If you’re ever wondering why Marie insists on giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek every time you walk through the door, just remember: it’s not because she thinks you need it, it’s because she’s convinced that if she doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget that you’re loved and appreciated. She’s like a walking, talking emotional safety net.

P.P.P.S. And if you’re one of those boxers who’s not into hugs or physical touch? Don’t worry—Marie’s got a backup plan. She’ll give you the warmest, most awkward air hug you’ve ever seen, complete with a look like she’s praying it doesn’t freak you out. Or some cheesy joke. It’s her way of saying, “I respect your boundaries, but also… I really want to hug you, just so you know.”

[niki-phoria]

Hey! If it’s alright, may I request a chishiya x gn!reader (established relationship) where it’s their first reaction to the borderlands? Like, Chishiya and reader where going out on a date and then they were suddenly transported to the borderlands and it’s just them reacting to how everyone disappeared, figuring the rules of the place and learning about their new environment and trying to search for food and stuff, and their reaction to their first games and really the games in general. I hope this makes sense!

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff, comfort word count: 1.4k

a/n: thank you for requesting !! your idea makes perfect sense, don't worry. i was gonna make this a lot longer (finding the beach, etc) but this was already long enough i am willing to make a part 02 if anyone wants it tho i hope you like it :)) also his outfit is based on what he was wearing when we saw him before the games in the last ep

warnings: not canon complaint, one mention of blood, slightly ooc chishiya (??)

requests open !! read my rules first

you pull your bag over your shoulder, rushing up the subway station’s steps. you’re able to spot chishiya almost immediately, hands stuffed in his pockets as he crosses the street. his hair is down, wind blowing the locks away from his face. he gives you a small smile, holding his arm out for you. you interlink your arm with his.

“look, there are fireworks!” chishiya leans over your shoulder to see up at the sky. pink and purple sparks explode against the blue sky. 

“ready to go?” chishiya asks. you nod, tugging him along with you. 

“there’s a cafe that just opened that i want to check out.” chishiya hums, following you through the shibuya streets. 

the cafe is quiet when you enter. a teenage girl stands at the counter. her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, glasses set low on her nose. “oh, hello!” she smiles. she lowers her head in a quick bow. you reciprocate, pulling chishiya closer to look up at the menu above her head. 

“you want an iced americano?” chishiya murmurs. 

you nod. “sounds good.” 

“go find a table, i’ll order.” you press a quick kiss against his cheek, venturing further into the cafe to find a table. there’s no one in the building besides you, chishiya, and the girl. the windows are frosted, blurring the people rushing through tokyo on the outside. 

chishiya slides your cup towards you before sitting down across from you. the coffee is sweet against your tongue. “good?” 

“it’s really good.” you hand it out towards him so chishiya can take a sip of it. 

he hums. “it’s a little sweet.” 

the sound of the lights shutting off interrupts your response. the cafe is only illuminated by the sunlight shining through the open windows outside. you glance around curiously. the silence is almost eerie. you can no longer hear the bustle of people outside. the coffee is no longer brewing. you can’t see any movement behind the frosted glass. 

“maybe that girl knows what’s going on,” you say. “the power could be out.” 

chishiya nods, standing from his seat. you follow after him as you make your way back through the cafe. the girl is no longer at the counter. everything looks like it was left perfectly in place. “hello?” he calls. you share a nervous glance when there’s no response. 

hesitantly, you push the door open to the staff room. there’s no one inside. “maybe she’s in the bathroom?” chishiya looks unconvinced but shrugs, watching as you knock on the door. “hello? is anyone in there?” after a few seconds of complete silence, you hesitantly open the door. it’s empty inside. 

“we should go.” you nod, following chishiya out of the cafe. 

outside, the streets are completely empty. cars sit abandoned. the only sound is the light breeze blowing through the leaves. “what the hell is happening?” you murmur. chishiya grabs your hand, leading you through the now empty city. 

“the street lights aren’t working.” he notes. 

“so, maybe it’s a power outage. all of the billboards are out too.” the buildings almost look uncanny without the continuous stream of ads playing on a loop to illuminate the outside. 

“then where is everyone? an entire city couldn’t disappear in a second.” you bite back a sigh, pulling your phone out of your bag. 

“shit,” you curse under your breath. the device is useless in your hand. “i swear my phone wasn’t dead earlier.” chishiya follows your lead, grabbing his own phone out of his back pocket. he presses the power button a few times before holding it down. despite your efforts, they remain completely off. 

“we might be able to find someone if we look around.” 

“yeah, probably.” 

night falls faster than expected. exhausted, you sit down in the middle of the street. despite hours of searching, you still haven’t found anything. any people. 

you shiver, rubbing your hands against your forearms. chishiya sits down next to you, staring at the horizon. “cold?” he asks. 

“a little.” 

chishiya doesn’t say anything, simply shrugging his cardigan off and draping it over your shoulders. “thanks.” he nods, letting you move closer and lean against his chest. his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you even closer. you sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the sunset. 

“you know, the city is kind of nice when it’s all quiet like this,” you whisper. 

“you think so?” 

“yeah.” chishiya rests his head on top of yours, rubbing your back. “i bet we’ll be able to see the stars from here.” 

you startle when a billboard suddenly turns on. bright white light illuminates the surrounding area. 

“game?” you read. an arrow pointing left leads to another billboard, this one pointing right. “should we go?” 

“it doesn’t look like we have a choice,” chishiya says. 

you follow the arrows to a tunnel, illuminated by the lights on the sides of it. a bus is parked sideways at the entrance. you circle around it, looking down into the tunnel. it looks empty inside. 

“are you here for the game?” you jump at the man’s voice. chishiya steps back, reaching behind himself to grab your arm. the man limps closer to the bus. “i won’t hurt ya,” he says, using the sides of the bus doors to support himself. “don’t need to.” 

you nervously follow after him into the bus. a table sits with a few phones laid out. a sign reading ‘one per person’ is behind them. 

you reach over to grab one, jumping a little when it turns on. chishiya grabs one after you do, looking down at the phone. the device immediately lights up. there are only a few options available. “visa?” you read.

“you two must be new here,” a woman says from her seat. her hair is greasy. her shirt is wrinkled and her eyes look tired. 

“what’s going on?” chishiya asks. 

“you have to play the games,” she sighs. “to earn visa days. if you run out, you die.” you blink at her in disbelief. dread crawls through your body, tightening around your lungs. fear presses against your throat, constricting your voice and preventing you from speaking. chishiya’s grip on your hand tightens. 

“die?” he repeats.

“the lasers!” the woman sobs, burying her head into her hands. “they kill them!” 

your phone chimes in your hand, stealing your attention. “registration closed. game: runaway. difficulty: four of clubs. rules: find the goal in two hours.” 

“four of clubs?” you repeat. 

“the games are ranked by specialty,” a man says. he’s sitting at the back of the bus. he’s dirty - blue jeans and white t-shirt stained with blood. “spades are physical. diamonds are about wits. clubs are team games. and hearts,” he laughs. it’s hollow, echoing in the bus. the sight sends chills down your spine. “they make you play with people’s hearts.” 

“the game will begin in five minutes.” your phone chimes. 

“come on,” the bloody man stands, making his way out of the bus. he smirks when he passes you, looking down at your hand, still clutching chishiya’s. his breath reeks of cigarettes as he leans in close to you before chishiya pushes him back. “let’s play.” 

the limping man pats the woman’s shoulder, coaxing her to stand and follow him out of the bus.

“should we follow them?” you whisper. 

“no,” chishiya leads you to the back of the bus. “the rules said to find the goal. there’s graffiti on the side of the bus. GOAL.” 

“are you sure?” he nods. “okay.” 

“hey,” chishiya wipes a tear you hadn’t realized fallen from your cheek. “breathe, baby, we’ll be okay.” you nod, taking a shaky breath. the air doesn’t feel like it reaches your lungs but you try anyway. chishiya coaxes you to lean in, forehead pressed against yours. “i’ll protect you.” 

“promise?” the world feels juvenile. you’re almost embarrassed but chishiya’s thumb stroking against your cheek distracts you. 

“i promise.” 

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hay...... Do you think you could do tadc characters with a reader who has super bad depth perception (due to an eye injury) and as a result often ends up walking into things because they didn't realise it was right in front of them?? :3 (aka me)

TADC cast x reader who has very bad depth perception!

fuck it we balling!! (admin is now on a small time crunch, theyre not going to explode if they fail to finish this before they timer is up, but they are weird about time stuff) rolls around ehehehhehe i hope you enjoy!! i must admit, admin was a little stumped on this so this might be a little..... meh </3

CAINE:

i think he blows it out way out of proportion... though im not sure thats the right word... i mean, if you manage to get close to caine (which is quite a feat considering before he didnt really. build genuine connections with circus members as well as being busy with... whatever it is he does...) he doesnt quite.. understand... so i think he insists on being your eyes, utilizing his... thousands of all seeing eyes. he can get overbearing at times so youre going to need to set the record straight and explain things to him... hes a little confused but hes got the spirit.... takes you to his room whenever things get hard (migraine, nausea, ect ect ect) and pampers you... so.. maybe him taking things too far/seriously isnt that bad...

POMNI:

has probably tossed you something before remembering your depth perception... the regret on her face is immediate, spreading over it before you even have the chance to react to whats going on... quick and long stream of apologies as she picks up the thing; it wasnt even likely anything important or fragile

eventually builds the habit to not toss things to people when they ask for something.. offers to read things out for you if you have trouble with it, as well as guiding you to dark places if you have trouble with migraines as well (while admin doesnt have depth perception he does have something funky with his eyes that make them sometimes roll and cross and it suuuucks)

RAGATHA:

oh she is so so so empathetic with you. as mentioned above in pomnis part, if youre prone to nausea or migraines, shes going to do all that she can to help you... usually lets you lay in her bed to collect yourself... helps you judge the distance things are, especially if its in a chaotic situation such as an in house adventure. if you open up to her about the reason behind your bad vision, her heart is going to hurt for you. if you need comfort, she will provide it; if you just need some ears, she will provide. generally very good about accommodating you

JAX:

has probably asked why your eyes look off, assuming they cross or otherwise arent "standard". doesnt really say it to be rude, well.. actually no this is jax hes likely just scoping to see what the deal is, though its more of a curiosity thing. gives a soft "oh" when you briefly explain why. honestly i think he has a habit of tossing things to people when they ask him for something, and i think this would carry over to you.... does sometimes feel bad, but hey! hes not trying to be mean (kinda...)

does not stoop low enough to use your poor depth perception to his advantage for pranks, though. hes an asshole but i dont think he would be that evil tbh...

KINGER:

honestly? same. like i dont think that he has bad eyes thanks to an injury, no rather i think its just because hes OLD!!! so theres times where you guys fail to be each others eyes. you have terrible depth perception, he is shortsighted... uh oh... good news is that hes always keeping an eye on you (no shitty pun intended) due to him constantly worrying about you, so the chance of you somehow being in the way of danger is fairly low.... probably.... if you tend to attract it, though, or are on the clumsier side, rest assured that hes keeping you in the pillow fort!/lh

ZOOBLE:

probably doesnt even notice it at first until you bring it up in passing, and honestly i dont think their view on you would change. sure they would try to be more accommodating for you since theyre not totally apathetic, especially since youre a friend and/or partner... but theyre not too... emotional, so unlike ragatha they wouldnt outwardly give you an excessive amount of.... pity? care? im struggling to find the right word, im afraid... will let you vent about it, though, if the issues that come with it cause any stress.. otherwise doesnt bring it up too much unless you bring it up, both because they dont think its too much of a big deal as well as not wanting to pry

GANGLE:

very sad very empathetic if you ever open up to her about the events leading up to your injury (assuming you remember/it was something that happened in the real world that carried into the digital world), and perhaps sheds a tear for you. helps you read and write things if you struggle with it, as well as even wrapping her ribbon around your eyes should any random bouts of nausea roll in. generally very sweet about it but is very careful about not stepping over any lines, tends to ask before doing something (especially with the blindfolding/nausea thing)

[likeadevils]

what songs from TTPD and TA are now yours? Which ones have spoken to you the most?

songs that are genuinely MINE

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: i cried myself to sleep listening to this song on repeat on release night and for the life of me i cant tell you why. i think it’s a great example of her being older really deepening her writing— just that old scarred over longing of a possible life, a possible love, too far away to reach but close enough to brush past. also, the double edged sword of “if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say’ i loved you the way that you were’”— you loved me before i’d twisted myself into the shape i am now in order to keep my current partner, but also, you loved me the way i was, not the way i am now

i look in peoples windows: i wrote a poem with the line “im afflicted by the not knowing” in it!! inspired by the outside!! and by spending so much of my childhood reading by moonlight and spying on my neighbors through their windows!!! it was called where midnight lives!!! what the fuck!!!

robin: another song i sobbed hysterically to. i was a strange little violent child obsessed with dinosaurs it feels like a lullaby someone made specifically about 3 year old me.

songs that i’m obsessed with:

but daddy i love him: the bridge is just so fun to scream along to. everytime ive been in a car since the album came out ive played this at least two times just cause

fresh out the slammer: it’s just. the first verse??? the way the song stutters apart for the last verse??? this song takes the blurry muse conceit of the album and uses it to its fullest. also just the diminishing returns from “but its gonna be alright, i did my time”

i can do it with a broken heart: my first listen favorite

the smallest man who ever lived: the bridge????? the bridge???? the bridge???? a few of the negative reviews specifically mentioned this song as boring and for a millisecond i was so angry i could’ve exploded

the black dog: this is like, the platonic ideal of a taylor swift song to me. just that old quiet tragedy she can build out of little moments of hoping your ex will remember you when they hear your favorite song or not having known your last kiss was your last kiss or your ex still sharing their location with you. like, it’s just her at her best, but with the maturity to sing “and you jump up, but she’s too young to know this song”

i hate it here: people have talked about seeing reputation in the anthology but i think you can also see so much debut and it makes me feel so tender. also i genuinely don’t understand why people don’t like “if chose the 1830s but without all the racists” like?? it’s supposed to be a bit clunky?? the songs about the limits of escapism?? the line enhances both of those themes?? also “i’m there most of the year” is such a funny devastating relatable lyric to say about a daydream

thank you aimee: it’s not every day a song inspires you to send this message about something a child did to you (fuck you madeline!!! fuck you jessie!!!)

the bolter: avoidant attachment representation!!! i love that it takes the stuff she hated about herself in the archer and just accepts and loves them and appreciates what they’ve given her. i especially love it because bolt can mean like, crossbow bolts, so it’s a flip on the archer. also “bolt” is one of my favorite words i love all the different meanings

“the only thing that’s left is the manuscript, one less souvenir from my trip to your shores, now and then i re-read the manuscript, but the story isnt mine anymore” also just had me sobbing. there’s just. wtf!!!!!!

[roadkillremi]

Glances Exchanged

Tatum Riley X F!Reader

^Picture above does not dictate readers appearance^

MasterList

Summary : after a long painful crush on Tatum. The truth comes out in front of her and her boyfriend.

Warnings: language, underaged drinking, mentions drunk dad, being outted. A corny truth or dare. I know just read it.

There was something about her pink lipgloss. The way she slid it on perfectly and licked her lips. You wondered if it tasted like bubblegum or strawberry. The wind blew lightly moving her bangs in her face. She smiled as Stu fixed her hair, you looked away trying to hide the realization.

"You're staring again." Randy whispered holding his sad brown bag of lunch. You looked down and stared walking towards the fountain.

"I didn't mean too-" you muttered. He chuckled, "Uh-huh. Like how you didn't mean to stare at her tits last week?". You glared at him wanting him to shut up. You sat in your usual spot, "Y/N! Finally you can save me from all this... testosterone" she cringed. You smiled, "Sure.". Stu kissed her cheek, "Yeah like you don't enjoy it.".

Your stomach knotted even more. Twisting in new directions, you wanted to puke and hide. More of hide and then puke.

"Anyway." She rolled her eyes looking at you. You took a bite of a pretzel, "Stus having a small party, you in?".

"Uh, the last "Small Party" was around 100 people.." you corrected. She smirked, "it's just gonna be me, Stu, Sydney, Billy, and.. Randy.".

Tatum had this sick thought of you and Randy together. Which wouldn't work due to you not liking Randy, or men. You blinked, "Uh..".

"She'll come." Randy chimed in. You gave him a look hoping it'd explode his head. You turned back towards Tatum, "I have homework..".

"Aw.. come on! Don't be a buzz kill!" Stu shouted. He gently hit your shoulder. You inhaled deeply, "Okay. But only us? Got it?" You pointed at the two of them.

"Sure thing, Mary Poppins." Stu scoffed.

Mary Poppins was the oh so glorious nickname you were given. Stu decided this because you were quoted, "the caring mom friend.". You cringed at the name, "Stop calling her that." Tatum snapped. Your face formed a shade of pink you smiled to yourself and looked down.

"What time tonight.. I'll bring some beer." You offered.

"I don't think your old man would like that" Billy jabbed. He didn't talk this whole time, you scanned his body language.

"He's too drunk to notice." You purse your lips together. You go quiet, Tatum sighed "How about you come over after school to get ready with me?". You gaze over in her direction, your eyes lit up.

"Sure." You hesitantly answered. She smiled sweetly at you, Randy playfully elbowed your side. You continued to eat your food feeling all giddy inside.

2 hours later

You waited by Tatum's locker, you gripped your bag tightly. You spotted her prancing down the hall with a lollipop in her mouth. She smiled jogging over to you, "I'm so excited. I'm gonna make you hotter!". Her face dropped realizing what she said.

"Not that you're not hot. Im just excited to do your makeup and stuff. I mean I'm youre beautiful without makeup-"

"Tatum." You interrupted. She glanced up at you going silent, "I get it, you're good.". She smiled in relief, "Anyway. Let's pick out clothes from your house and then go to mine.". She looped her arm through yours before walking towards the front door of the school.

"I'm thinking of that cute white skirt and a baby tee." She suggested. She pushed open the doors walking straight ahead. People scurried out of the way for her, she sucked on her lollipop pulling it out with a loud pop.

"And I can do your hair!" She gushed. You smiled, "Sure.". She swayed hips slightly bumping them into yours. Randy made eye contact with you on the way to his house. He shook his head with a toothy smile. You rolled your eyes towards him going back to listening to Tatum ramble.

The short walk to your house ended, you pulled out your keys to open the door. You invited Tatum in, "My rooms down the hall.." you instructed. She nodded observing your house, you walked to your room with her close behind you. You opened the door to your room, the lacey curtains let the light in.

"Your rooms are so cozy!" She cooed. You shrugged, "Eh, some of this shit is from when I was 5.". She looked in your closet pulling out some clothes.

"I think it's adorable. You listen to The Hole?" She asked looking at the poster. You nod, "Yeah she's so ho- er.. cool!" You corrected. She smiled, "Yeah. I'm more of a.. Madonna girl.".

"I mean she did change music culture." You smiled. She smiled back, "Exactly. She like.. told people AIDS aren't bad. And just... she's so cool.". You nodded, "Totally.". She grabbed a pair of jeans, "These are so cute on you.".

You had to admit, the jeans hugged your figure just right and were slightly baggy on your calves. She then pulled out a cropped tanked and put it out in front of you.

"With this!" She shoved the pieces of clothing towards you. You took them and started to change, her eyes widen. She watched you for a moment before looking away. She cleared her throat, "So.. where's that beer?".

"Uh, the kitchen cabinet near the pantry." You slid your jeans on with a hop. You finished getting dressed and grabbed your tote. You glanced at Tatum, "Ready?". She nodded practically slipping out the door. She went to grab some beer slipping them in your bag. You looked in the living room to see your dad passed out.

"Okay, let's go." You gently nudged her shoulder. She grinned walking towards the door. Once you locked the door behind you the both of you giggled.

"God, I can't believe he didn't wake up." She exclaimed. You watched the cars go by as you walked down the sidewalk.

"Yeah, he was knocked out." You added. She ran to her front door opening it for you. She ran upstairs to her room, she grabbed your arm pulling you to her vanity.

"let's get this party started." She smiled. She grabbed some of her mascara and lip gloss. You close your eyes trying to relax, you'd jump whenever she touches you without warning.

"Purse your lips out.." she calmly instructed. You did as told, you felt the wand glide against your lips. The same lip gloss that touched her lips. You felt like a preschooler gushing over this.

"Wow.. you look.. sexy-" she admired her work moving some strands of your hair. You fluttered your eyes open, you immediately looked at her. She grinned down at you, "Yeah.. really gorgeous.." you whispered.

"Are.. you and Randy dating?" She questioned. She went to her closet looking through clothes.

"Uh, no. He's not my type." You laughed a bit in the end. You watched her undress her self revealing her back to you. Your mouth went dry, "I uh... hows things with Stu?".

"Good I guess.." she muttered putting a different shirt on.

"Do you like Randy?" She turned back towards you.

"No. Not a chance." You smiled. She nodded, "I mean you're too good for him anyway." She sighed.

"Now let's go! I'll drive you!" She grabbed your hand pulling up. She sprinted downstairs only to be stopped by her mom.

"Tatum. Where are you going?" She placed her hands on her hips firmly. You glanced in between the two ladies, "Out with Y/N Sydney joining us!". Her mom slowly nodded, "Alright... be safe. I love you!".

"I love you too, Mom." She smiled leaving the house. She walked towards her yellow bug.

The drive there was filled with music. She sang along to almost every song. She tapped the stirring wheel to the beat. When Stus driveway was close by she whipped her car in.

"Ah, we're fashionably late!" She unbuckled getting out of the car. You followed behind her, Stu opened the door on cue.

"About time!" He called out embracing Tatum. You walked in unloading the beer from your bag. Randy grabbed a beer leaning back into the couch.

"How'd it go?" He opened the beer against the coffee table. You leaned back exhaling, "She took off her shirt in front of me..". Randy almost choked, "What!".

"Oh keep your dick in your pants. I only saw her back.". Billy strolled in holding chips, "Y/N.".

"Billy." You mocked. He placed the chips on the table. He gave you a look, a mocking smirk.

"So.. you're little crush..".

"Is Randy! Haha caught me." You panicked. Randy's eyes widened, "Mhm!". You two had a pact if anyone found out without you telling them. You'd fake date each other, sadly it was now .

"Wait. So you and Randy are?" Billy scoffed. Tatum glanced over, "Wait... you said you two weren't dating..".

"We aren't! I mean.. we are?" You looked at Randy for guidance. He looked at Tatum, "Uh. We're not dating. We are thinking about dating." He pointed. She leaned on her leg, "Uh-huh..". Sydney walked through the door frame.

"What'd I miss?" She smiled. You sunk into the couch, you felt nauseous.

"Nothing..." you muttered. Billy glared down at you, "Y/N and Randy might date.". You wanted to sink more, "Wow. How cute!" She smiled.

"Yeah. Hey I have a brilliant idea. Let's play truth or dare!" Billy clasped his hands together. Tatum rolled her eyes sitting in an arm chair.

"How old are you?" She judged. He grinned, "Just go with it...". He opened a beer bottle handing it to you. You quickly gulped the beer down, "Randy truth or dare?".

"Uh tr-"

"Don't be a pussy man!" Stu cheered. Randy exhaled, "Dare.". You shook your head, "This is stupid Billy. Let's just watch TV.".

"I dare you to kiss, Y/N..." Billy smiled widen. It frightened you a bit, "Sure.". Randy scooted closer to you giving you a peck. You stayed still and left slammed your eyes shut. Billy scoffed, "God that was pathetic..".

"Stu your turn." Billy kept his eyes on you. You stiffened and sat up, "That's not how this works!". Randy also sat up, Stu out his hands on top his head stretching.

"Stu-" Randy warned.

"Hmm. Is it true you have a crush on my girlfriend?.."

"Randy? I known him since first grade-" Tatum cringed. Stu laughed, "No not Randy..". Tatum face went red, she gazed over to you. Your eyes hurt due to tears poking through. Your chest felt like it was gonna explode.

She wouldn't want to be near you anymore. You probably freaked her out, she'll likely will tell everyone. You shook lightly wanting to run, "So?..".

"I uh..". Randy fidgeted, "Shut up, Billy! Like you aren't gay for Stu!" He shouted. You glanced over at Randy, "leave her alone. She should come out on her own terms.". A small tear fell and you looked down at the floor.

"I like girls.. okay? I just so happen to like Tatum.. but I never did anything." You defended. Tatum sat up, Stu shook his head. Billy raised his eyebrow and moved back against the couch. The criticism radiated, you hugged your torso.

"I can't believe you, Stuart! We're over!" She stood up getting in his face. He looked confused, "What?".

"God, you moron.. I'm bisexual! Madonna is a icon for the gays." She sighed. Randy looked at you, "I told you so! I knew it was weird she liked Madonna so much!".

"Randy shut up!" You and Tatum fussed in unison. Tatum looked at you sweetly, she grabbed your hand leading you out the house. You panicked looking back at Randy. He shrugged, she went out into the chilly night air.

"You should've told me sooner.."

You blankly stared at her, "Hello? Earth to Y/N!" She laughed. You smiled, "Sorry I just... You didn't have to break up with Stu.." you mumbled. She smirked, "He sucks anyways.".

She looked into your eyes, she leaned closer kissing you. Your heart melted, "WOOHOO!" Randy cheered. You rolled your eyes at him and cupped her face. She grinned, "are you gonna ask me on a proper date?". You blinked and then jerked your hand away.

"Oh! Yeah, do you wanna get dinner?.." you asked softly. She smiled, "Sure. And then we're going to the zoo." She added. You smiled, "Of course.".

She smiled and kissed you again, you melted into her touch. Her lipgloss, the lipgloss, tasted like warm vanilla cake. You pressed against her more holding her waist. When she separated from the kiss she giggled slightly.

"My lip gloss got on your lips.." she tried to take it off your lips. You grinned, "It's alright..".

[thebindingofpillo]

when it comes to characters such as lazarus, do you think anyone could trust him with any sort of firearm? or like, does any character know how to use weapons? Esau, Lazarus, Samson, Judas, Eve, (and maybe Eden) look like they know how.

Oh boy now this is an interesting question mhmmm… First we need to keep in mind that my story doesn’t really take place in America. I didn’t really want my AU to take place in a *real* country, I intentionally kept it vague, so that people could fill in the blanks themselves. Reincarnation can take place wherever you want! But since I’m more familiar with Italian legislation, some of it might seep into my setting. Which means: guns are rare and difficult to obtain.

Funnily enough, I have an inside joke with my friend that Isaac owns at least one gun. The boy got tired of all the supernatural bullshit so now he’s fighting back.

With that being said: realistically, I think the only one with some expertise with guns would be Cain. He’s very old, he’s seen a lot of stuff, went through a lot of shit, and knowing how to protect oneself when faced with adversity is really important. He’s probably more used to older stuff tho, I can’t really see him with a high-tech automatic rifle. Maybe a tommy gun lmao. I don’t think he killed anyone else besides Abel tho, he doesn’t really want to go through that again.

As for the others you mentioned… Lazarus and guns seems like a terrible combination, knowing his chronic bad luck that thing would go off on him all the time. And while he can’t really die, accidentally shooting himself isn’t really something I’d wish upon him lol.

Judas would not trust himself with guns. At all. He’s already got some pretty strong self-destructive tendencies and Azazel would never allow a gun in their house. Judas has a problem with offing himself in every life, and Azazel always tries his damn best for it not to happen. He’s failed every single time, but that doesn’t deter him. He’s already pretty on edge with Judas living in a normal house with normal dangerous things (like knives) adding a gun to the equation would make Azazel explode immediately so that’s a big no no.

Esau strikes me as the type of guy who would know about weapons/guns but wouldn’t own them? Idk he doesn’t really seems like the type… Jacob might have an interest in Medieval weapons tho, he’s enough of a nerd for that. He probably tried to rope Esau into some historical reenactments but his brother wasn’t really having it. I can see Jacob taking on something like medieval fencing if he wasn’t disabled. Also Lazarus would make fun of him lol.

Samson wouldn’t really know his way around a gun or any other weapon, so he would be a danger to himself and others. Big no no.

Eve might know something about guns? Maybe her father was a cop, or a hunter. I could see that… tbf I didn’t really think about Eve’s parents, maybe this could be interesting! I can definitely see baby Eve looking at her dad cleaning and assembling his guns. The only gun she uses is the tattoo gun in her shop lol.

Maggy strikes me as a blunt force trauma girlie, she should have a warhammer. Or a crowbar, as a treat.

Lilith can’t see, so she wouldn’t even get close to a gun, or any type of weapon. Too risky.

Bethany is a wee baby, her defense mechanism is just curling up in a ball and hoping for the best.

OKAY now onto Eden and Azazel. They do absolutely know how to use weapons. Every angel has a weapon (usually a sword, Azazel and Eden both had swords) every angel is a warrior of God, and fighting demons is part of their purpose. So yeah, both Eden and Azazel (who used to be an angel) know their way around weapons, Azazel was quite the skilled warrior, and even used to create his own! When he first started living amongst humans he learned how to be a blacksmith and goldsmith, and he was really good at it. Azazel’s weapon is currently under archangel Michael’s care, and Eden lost theirs lol. As for guns, Azazel isn’t too fond of them and Eden wouldn’t really need them anyway even if they technically know how to fire one (they’re a Cherub, and Cherubim are omniscient).

Apollyon, being an angel, also knows how to fight but never ever had to in the billions and billions of years he existed. His main weapon is a spear that doubles as the Key for the Abyss.

[nnnn99999]

I have been thinking a lot about peaceful property the past few days. One of the things I couldn't understand was why I was not bothered by Pangpang not being that mad at Home. After all, Home was the reason she almost lost her only family member, the reason her beloved brother's career was ruined. Home is responsible for pushing her and Peach to the dire circumstances they are in currently. So why is it that she was not as upset as Peach when they found out the truth about Home? And why did I not feel weird about her reaction? Because normally, I would feel a little ? pop up in my head about stuff like this. So I thought about it, and I realized, it kinda makes sense.

Pangpang and Home are similar in the way they use their loud and boisterous exterior to mask all their vulnerabilities hidden inside, desperately hoping that people will be too distracted by their eccentricities to notice their true emotions. I don't mean to say that Pangpang or Home are not weird and energetic and all that by nature, because they are. It's just that often they use their eccentric nature to hide their insecurities and discomfort. Because Home and Pangpang are so similar in this aspect, they truly get each other. Not just in a superficial "we match each other's freak" kind of way, but also in a "I see you and I kinda get why you're doing what you're doing" kind of way. Without rewatching the entire show, I can think of two instances when this bond between Pangpang and Home was shown very clearly.

The first one is when Home tells Peach about Pangpang trying to overcompensate in episode 4. It might be because I was too distracted by PeachHome being domestic when I first watched it that I breezed past this moment. But the more I think about it, the more I am fascinated by the fact that Home, a random guy that has only known Pangpang for a short time, and who has a very limited capacity for empathy, is the one who notices her behavior and goes "yeah something's up here". While her own brother, the one who is closest to her, and who should supposedly know her best, didn't think anything was off with Pangpang's behavior until Home explained it to him. And even then, Peach was not so sure about it until Pangpang finally exploded later in the episode. I have to mention again, Home does not have much empathy, even for the people he genuinely cares about. He doesn't really understand anyone, including Peach, who he is the closest to in this ragtag family. It is very difficult for Home to look at things from others' perspectives. That leads me to believe that Home relates to Pangpang a lot because he is very similar.

The second one is when Home tells Pangpang to let Peach face Chef Hong's ghost alone in episode 5. Clearly, Pangpang is not comfortable with the idea of leaving Peach alone. She experienced firsthand the trauma and guilt Peach has lived with for the past 3 years. She knows better than anyone how much Peach has suffered. And she knows how terrified Peach is in that moment. As his sister, of course she can't bear to let him face this alone. She wants to support him, she wants to be there for him. And yet, one sentence from Home is enough for her to suppress all her discomfort and leave Peach alone to deal with the whole thing by himself. The amount of trust she puts in Home, a guy she hasn't known for long, in this moment is huge. She really has no reason to put so much trust in Home, especially when it comes to her brother, unless she truly believes Home genuinely cares about Peach and wants the best for him. Let's not forget that Home is their employer, and he threatened Peach to come to this place he is clearly uncomfortable with. Yet Pangpang trusts Home enough to go along with his plan despite being uncomfortable with it.

About the part where Peach and then Pangpang find out that Home was the one who hit Peach, the focus of their conversation was off from the start. The first thing Peach said was "How could he hide this from us? Was anything he did for us even real?" (I haven't rewatched the scene, just citing from memory so this may not be his exact words but it should be close.) So Peach is upset not because Home hit him with a car and left him there, but because Home did not tell him about it. Which is crazy. This man is more concerned about the fact that Home has been hanging out with him and being nice to him not because Home actually likes Peach, but because he is compensating for his past actions out of guilt. (Peach is blinded by love that is the only explanation thank you.) And Pangpang does not see anything wrong with this direction of conversation. (She knows they are in love that is the only explanation thank you.) Her mind doesn't think for even a moment that Home is horrible person for doing what he did. Which is crazy, again. Rather she is more concerned about hearing Home's explanation before jumping to any sort of conclusion. Because she gets Home. She knows Home is not the kind of person who would randomly hit a man and leave him to die. He must have his reasons and Pangpang wants to hear them. I swear Kan is the only person who does not have a love filter on for Home. Home is a shitty person for driving irresponsibly. This should be the focus in this situation first. Then then focus can shift to maybe he is redemable but he is also shitty for hiding it from the siblings. Peach and Pangpang, my dearies, why in world would you totally skip the first part? Love truly does make you blind I guess.

Anyway, this is why I think Pangpang is not that upset with Home. She gets him, she loves him, she trusts him, and she just wants mom and dad to stop fighting and get back together. Maybe the reason I was not bothered was that the siblings themselves were not bothered 🤔.

[melissa-titanium]

wrghfhf OKAY UHMM

where does trout live? and does she have any family living with or near her? or in general

ive seen the dragonss big dragon world where does she fit in there. like what is she. what is their society like if they have one. would she interact with other animals or would her society be kept to others like her?

i sawww something mentioned about her being a past life to. uh. i forgot their names i know mel is there but how did she die if she does and also if its not the same where did she get the scar?

also not technically a question and also not about trout but kinda do u have a picture of mel's sister i saw u mention her and i was interested. u know me. u know how i feel abt siblings.

whos her fishy familiar whatre they like. are they more like a pet or a friend or both?

ive been using periods as question marks whoops. also uhm what is her relationship with all the other ppl and. their lives and whatever

whats her favorite food? color? animal? what is she interested in? what are her hobbies? yknow the basics

i know shes. trout. and those are freshwater. but does she like whales? like whale whales. im just curious. actually how does she feel about whales, sharks, even orcas. stuff like that.

OMG. OMG. OMG. WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK. WAIT. WAIT WAIT. IM FUCKING C;RAZY THANKUOU SO SO SO OSOS M UCH I LOVE ANS;WERING SHIT ABOUT MY STUPID OCS *CRIESSSSSSSSSSHGIJGFKGSERIJ*

where does trout live? and does she have any family living with or near her? or in general

OK SO FUNNY THING ABOUT REPRODUCTION IN MY WORLD. there doesnt actually need to be Two parents to Make A Child Exist. there can be one. three. twelve. billions. doesnt matter. because the source of life in this world are called lovebugs that essentially incubate souls that are ready to be recycled... the only motive they need to initiate the incubation process is some form of desire from an outside source to have that thing Exist, and boom, it will.

so basically, she doesn't have any "biological" family. lovebugs didn't incubate her soul because anyone wanted them to, it was basically like. okay. you know jesus? from the bible? yeah. that's basically what happened to trout. except whats different about her is that she was born from... like... the will of the god of the universe herself (cadie, cici. yeah the god of my universe is my cat) and somewhat from the people of that world at the time.

basically the desire of the masses to have the return of magic culminated so much hope and "desire" into existence that trout just... boom. became real.

to ACTUALLY answer your question though, trout doesn't actually have parents. she hopped across orphanages and foster homes until she was able to bind her soul to an object (long story) and then, seeing her power, the higher status seaskimrs kind of adopted her like "hey she would make a great personal guard to the royal family"

the closest thing to family though? oryx. he's her anxious deranged ghost uncle who projects his existence onto her through time bullshit soul magic.

ive seen the dragonss big dragon world where does she fit in there. like what is she. what is their society like if they have one. would she interact with other animals or would her society be kept to others like her?

OMG OK WAIT SO . FUNNU THING ABOUT THIS. TROUT'S ERA HAPPENS AT THE V E R Y END OF MEL'S SOUL THREAD... MEANING MOST OF THE DRAGONS ARE GONE BY THIS POINT. but AHAAAAAA WAIT !!!! since the world exploded, set on fire, exploded again, and then Flooded (thats why seaskimrs, creatures like trout, are the most populous intelligent species on the planet) tasreradian society managed to sustain some of their society, but alot of it was still lost (the current tasrerads don't even know that the shore dwelling tasrerads existed)

to the seaskimr society, tasrerads are something of lorekeepers. now having to go deeper into the ocean, they've become long-living megafauna. not a SINGLE tasrerad is left from mel's time, but a good ass portion of their history is written in ye olde dragon runes. seaskimrs don't interact a whole lot since tasrerads dwell very very deep in the ocean and rarely come up... but they're chill when they do! trout was born during the period of time where tasrerads come up for their routine (every decade? not sure!) transaction of knowledge. the tasreradian elder take great interest in telling stories to seaskimr younglings, and trout never forgot a single tale.

i sawww something mentioned about her being a past life to. uh. i forgot their names i know mel is there but how did she die if she does and also if its not the same where did she get the scar?

OMG OMG SHES !!! SHES ATUALLY MEL'S FUTURE LIFE iamsosorry if iworded that wrong somewhere i know i always say mel's past lives when in reality mel has One past life. everyone else comes after. help me. i need to finish the loredoc ohhhh my god

SHE !!! well. kind of dies? more like gets punted into purgatory after literally becoming god at some point for a reason i havent really worked out yet. we'll get to that *smiles*

AS FOR HER SCAR..... equally a little vague. in her old story, she got mauled by. this sounds insane but also all of the aquatic creatures from the past eras got like dangerously bigger. she got mauled by a HUGE FUCKING TROUT which earned trout her name!!! (yeah i think in her old lore getting mauled made her transition . ? help)

in her new lore tho. i think it would make the most sense for malibu to be the one to dismember & scar her? or maybe mel. tho i think malibu makes more sense. malibu being burned on accident and being like I NEED TO GET BACK AT THIS BITCH. because to trout, malibu is a reminder of her terrible curse & to malibu, trout is a reminder of a terrible experience that basically lead to the death of her grandmother (a whole other story so i'll just leave it at that)

regardless. unlike mel, she never gets a prosthetic :)

also not technically a question and also not about trout but kinda do u have a picture of mel's sister i saw u mention her and i was interested. u know me. u know how i feel abt siblings.

HELL YEAH I DO!!!!!!!!!!!! i havent finished her ref yet Sigh but.... the queen <3 epic spoilers! she's the one who kills mel :)

whos her fishy familiar whatre they like. are they more like a pet or a friend or both?

IM GONNA BE HONEST I HAVENT TOTALLY WORKED THIS OUT YET !!!

it acts as something of a... puppet. an entity that can pass through time to act as a gateway, HER gateway, to the past. which is where she meets oryx! the soulless remnants act as entities outside of time, so when she befriends one (this funny little fish who i dont have a name for yet LOL) she's able to puppeteer it's body and project herself and some of the world around it (including her voice!) into the past. which is how she's able to hear, see, and communicate with oryx. does that make sense? LOL

BUT TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION. it's both :) trout is a "roll with the punches" kinda gal so she didn't really question the presence of half-existing entities that only she could see and just interacted with them as she would with a normal not dead person.

ive been using periods as question marks whoops. also uhm what is her relationship with all the other ppl and. their lives and whatever

HM HM HMMM. okay let me think.

mel - she feels pity for him at first. imagine existing for that long, literal eons stewing in your hate, refusing to let go of a grudge for people that have long forgotten about you? she essentially manages to talk him down from the ledge, something mira failed to do all those eras ago.

the reason trout came in the very last thread of mel's soul is because of how similar the two are. mel surpressed the "trout" part of himself so ferociously that she literally could not exist until oryx BLOCKED HIM from influencing her time in any way shape or form. mel hated, HATED, HATED trout, more than he hated his mom, those who looked down on him, the world, more than he hated himself. which is why his reconciliation with her is such a crucial part of both their character arcs, because truly trout is just mel in a less gristly, bloody font. he's like her deranged grandpa in some way.

when she resets the timeline he's glad to be the only one to remember her.

whats her favorite food? color? animal? what is she interested in? what are her hobbies? yknow the basics

food? she really likes spicy stuff. is eating tilapia cannibalism? maybe, but she doesn't really have a reason to care, all of her past lives were cannibals.

she REALLY likes green. like a soft, gentle sage. salmon pink is a close second.

she likes pufferfish and hammerhead sharks... she thinks theyre funny :)

BIG FAN OF MECHANICS AND BOMBS. bombs especially. it sometimes concerns her peers how excited she gets about stuff like the discovery of remains from those nuclear explosions several eons ago. she loooves pulling things apart and seeing what new stuff she can make with them. guns are a big second fave too! thats why her soulbound object (which can shapeshift. yeah she's a special one) is usually some kind of big impossible gun. she likes to try and dissect it and see how much of it is magic and how much of it is mechanics.

i know shes. trout. and those are freshwater. but does she like whales? like whale whales. im just curious. actually how does she feel about whales, sharks, even orcas. stuff like that.

SHE LOVES WILDLIFE. she's not like, crazy obsessed with animals but if you asked her if she wanted to go to the aquarium she would never say no. she likes predatory animals the most, i don't know if she would have ever seen an orca before but whales are a tasreradian delicacy so she's definitely eaten whales before, and likes to watch sharks sometimes.

ALSO WAIT FUNNY DETAIL. she's actually anadromous, which means she's both freshwater AND saltwater which is why she lives in the sea :)