#the more we see of this game the more I want to play it

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument pt.3

pt.1 pt.2 character: Caleb note: not proofread. haven't played the game since he came out so he might be a little oc

Caleb’s mind is simple: you being away from him means he can’t protect you from any possible danger. He is overprotective to the point it disturbs you and sometimes you think if it was up to him he would tie you to his side so you never leave his sight. Because you’re the safest by his side right?

Considering his possessive nature towards you, you can imagine the intensity of arguments between you two. The problem is, he doesn’t see how he’s wrong. You’re a professional hunter? You’ve lived for years without him? You’re one of the best at your dangerous job? falls on deaf ears and right now you’re so so close to strangling him. Instead, you turn around and go to your bedroom to get a blanket and pillow, because sleeping beside this obstinate asshole is the last thing you want tonight. after a minute you can sense Caleb’s presence. He yawns as he leans against the doorframe

“Whatcha doin’ pipsqueak?” His question is playful

“Oh, I’m pipsqueak again”

Caleb laughs at your sarcastic answer which earns your glare, making him mumble “Still mad I see” under his breath. Silently, you wonder if he is bothered by the argument at all. You gather everything in your arms and walk to the door and as you pass him he grabs your shoulder from behind and drapes himself over you.

“A little bit dramatic don’t you think?”

“You’re heavy, you asshole”

You grumble as you try to shrug him off but he won’t budge. Quite the opposite actually, his arms are wrapped around your shoulders tightly with his face in your neck.

“Can’t handle it? I thought you were a strong girl.”

“Do you, really? Because you act like I’m made of glass”

“Well, not glass. More like-”

You try to smack him but he moves his head to avoid it and laughs, instead catching your wrist and placing a kiss on your pulse point. Even though the gesture makes you blush, you snatch your hand back and accidentally hit his metal arm, causing you to hiss at the pain. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow as if saying ‘See?’ which makes you more furious.

He starts to say something but you interrupt.

“Let me go, Caleb. I’m mad at you and don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you”

“No”

“No?”

“Gotta keep you away from your thoughts, pipsqueak. What if you decide you want to leave me or something because of this stupid argument, hm? What then?”

You fall silent for a moment because you need to get this straight. So, he thinks that after he ‘died’ and you mourned him, thinking about him almost every day, years later you find out that he’s alive and is doing everything to keep you close, you will leave him because of an argument? Now, you doubt his sanity. On the other hand, Caleb takes your silence as a bad sign and starts panicking.

“Pipsqueak? Come to bed, please. And we can do whatever you want tomorrow. I’m yours the whole day- Hey, I’ll make braised chicken wings. You still love them right? Or whatever you want, you name it…” When he gets no answer, he drops his head on your shoulder, giving up “Okay, if you really don’t wanna sleep beside me, I’ll take the couch, just, please sleep in the bedroom.”

Finally, you sigh and lean your head against his chest.

“You won’t drop this, will you?”

He smirks because he knows you. He knows you want to give into him but your pride won’t let you. So you try to blame him. Make it look like, you don’t have a choice, so you don’t feel bad about yourself. But he’ll take it. He’ll take all the blame and allegation if it means you’ll stay with him.

“Not a chance” his voice is muffled against your neck as he pecks it, before removing himself from you and leading you back to your bedroom.

“I don’t think you’re made of glass,” he tells you when you’re both lying down on the bed and you place your head on his chest, in return, he wraps his arms around you.

“Hm?” you’re confused before you remember your earlier statement

“I don’t think you’re weak. The opposite actually, I think you’re very strong I just… I worry about you, I can’t help it. So what if you’re one of the best hunters? you’re not immortal. And when I think that there’s even the slightest chance that I might lose you again… I won’t be able to take it. So all this overprotective act is also for the sake of my sanity.” He laughs humourlessly in the end.

You raise your head to look at him. He’s already watching you with adoration behind his purple eyes. You brush the strands of hair from his forehead and place a kiss on his lips.

“I won’t leave you” You kiss the corner of his mouth “You’re crazy if you think leaving you has even crossed my mind. Now that I have you back? You’re stuck with me as much as I am with you”

There’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes run over your face.

“Goodnight, pipsqueak"

“Goodnight, Caleb”

You both fall silent as you lay back down on his chest. However, the silence is broken by you.

“You’re making braised chicken wings for me, tomorrow”

“Absolutely” he agrees with a silent chuckle.

[moonstruckme]

hi, how are you?

really move your writing, it has def helped me through tough times, so thank you for that so much, I cannot tell you how much appreciation I carry for you

I was wondering, since you are okay with writing about self harm scars (I think, if I understand your list or off-limit request stuff correctly, if not, sorry, then just ignore this) if you would maybe write something with Sirius x reader, where maybe r isn’t feeling all that great abt her scars (preferably on her thighs, but if not also totally fine) and Sirius draws on them and reassures her and all that stuff

Hope you have a great day, sending you lots of love

Sending love back angel <3

cw: past self harm, discussion of scars

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 922 words

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Gorgeous, you can cut the shit. We both know I’m a modern Poussin.” 

You smile, radiant in the sunlight spilling into your sitting room. You came here to read, but Sirius was hellbent on distracting you, and as always he’s succeeded. Your book has been long since closed, the two of you lazing the day away with kisses and go-nowhere conversations while Sirius draws on your skin in black ink. 

“You’ve just said some obscure artist to show off,” you accuse. “You know I don’t know who that is.” 

“Yes, well, two can play at the game of belittlement.” 

Sirius is quite obviously drawing clouds. They live in the crook of your elbow, and they’re perfectly nebulous. You’re only pretending not to know because you enjoy playing with him. Luckily for you, Sirius enjoys letting you. 

“Is there going to be a sun?” you ask after a while. 

“Don’t need one. That’s you already, sunshine.” 

You make a phony groaning sound, clearly delighted. “You’re so cheesy.” 

“I know. See what you’ve done to me?” Sirius grins, tilting his head up for a kiss. 

You indulge him. You’re in an indulgent mood, all sun-warmed and languorous, reclining against the cushions like a goddess. You wouldn’t likely let him doodle all over you otherwise. Sirius is taking advantage of a rare opportunity. 

He goes back to work, adding some raindrops and then stars trailing up your arm. He thinks you’re dozing, but when Sirius turns to look at you again your expression has gone solemn. You’re looking down at your own lap like it’s a piece of gum stuck to your shoe. 

Your scars bother you, sometimes. Sirius can never really predict when those times will be—it depends on your mood, how often you’ve been thinking about them, and a slew of other things inside that lovely head of yours—but here in the sunlight he can see how you got hung up. They’re showier than usual, light and shimmery in the crease of your thighs. Faded, but there. 

Sirius puts his hand over them. Not to cover, but to caress. 

You seem to snap out of your reverie. “Sorry,” you say. 

“What for?” he asks. 

It’s a trick question and you know it. You’re silent for a time. Silence is not usually Sirius’ favorite thing, but he lets it lie, stroking his index finger over your leg. 

“I’m just,” you admit in a soft voice, “not liking them very much lately.” 

“Yeah?” He looks up at you, seeking. “Have you been feeling okay?” 

“Yeah. I have, really.” 

“You’d tell me if not?” 

You nod. Not quite looking at him, but Sirius knows that’s more evidence of shame than dishonesty. You trust him, and he trusts you. 

“I don’t think you have to like them, baby.” He kisses gently beside your chin. “I’d like it if you didn’t hate them, but I know you can’t always help it.” 

“I don’t know if I hate them.” Your eyes seem glued to where Sirius is rubbing your leg. Your voice is small. “I just…sometimes I don’t care if people see them, but other times they feel so embarrassing.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Well, that’s silly.” 

You frown. “Why?” 

“Because,” he says, uncapping his pen again. You don’t stop him when he starts drawing small flowers over and in between your lines. “I—look, you’re allowed to feel any way you want about them, okay? Obviously. But the way I see it, they’re just something that happened to you.”

Admittedly, Sirius didn’t always feel that way. When he first saw them, he’d been angry—at you, at your brain, at anyone and anything that had ever made you feel awful enough to do this to yourself—but it hadn’t taken long for that initial wrath to deliquesce into a wet, formless sorrow. Sirius doesn’t like not having anyone to blame. He likes thinking of the people he loves hurting even less. But it was a reality for you at one time, and there’s nothing either of you can do about it now. All Sirius wants now is to keep enough light in your present that maybe someday it washes out the past. It may never happen, but he can hope. And he can hold your hand no matter what.

He twines the fingers of his free hand loosely with yours, making looping lines for petals on your leg. 

“I don’t like that they did happen,” he admits, “but I don’t like that I broke my arm in fourth year either.” He senses your eyes going to the scar on his forearm. Once large and long, but now faded. “Nothing we can really do about them, though.” 

You hum. “Yours was an accident.” 

“I know,” Sirius murmurs. He looks at you. “I know they’re not the same thing, baby. But I don’t think you wanted your scars any more than I wanted mine, right?” 

You hold his eyes this time, your gaze tentative but full of love. “No.” 

“Right.” He kisses you. Lingers until you soften into it, your lips parting for him. Sirius pecks the corner of your mouth once he’s done. “So, you just keep talking to me, and I’ll tell you when you have something to be embarrassed about. Okay?” 

Your smile comes almost unwillingly, your eyes slipping from his to look at the blooming garden covering your legs. “Okay,” you say. 

“There’s my girl. Now, do you think it would tickle terribly if I drew a circus on the bottom of your foot?” 

“Yes.” 

“Perfect.”

[astars-things]

for lando x hughes reader au: you take lando to the hughes bowl and he's sitting there completely clueless.

When I told Lando I was taking him to a hockey game, he was excited—until he realized he had absolutely no clue what was going on.

"Wait, so both your brothers are playing against each other?" he asked as we walked into the arena.

"Yep," I grinned. "Jack and Luke on the Devils, Quinn on the Canucks. It’s the Hughes bowl tonight."

As soon as we took our seats, Lando was already confused. “So, uh… what’s the goal here?” he asked, watching as the players skated around in warmups.

I laughed. “Score goals, babe.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that part. But, like, what are the rules? What’s offside? How many guys are on the ice at once?”

Oh boy. I had my work cut out for me.

“Okay,” I started, pointing toward the ice. “Each team has six players on the ice—five skaters and one goalie. The goal is to get the puck into the net. If you cross the blue line before the puck does, that’s offside.”

Lando nodded slowly, like he was trying to process everything. “Right, right… so it’s like track limits in F1?”

I blinked. “Uh… sure? But also no. I’ll explain as we go.”

The game started, and the crowd roared to life. I could see Jack and Luke out there, already chirping Quinn. Lando jumped when a big hit was thrown against the boards in front of us.

“Wait, they can just… do that?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Yep. As long as it’s clean, they can hit each other all they want.”

Lando let out a low whistle. “F1 drivers would cry if we had to deal with that.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, you guys are divas compared to hockey players.”

He shook his head, still baffled. "If I did that in F1, I’d be banned for life."

I laughed as I focused back on the game. Jack had the puck now, weaving his way through defenders, and I elbowed Lando excitedly. "Watch Jack, he's gonna—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Quinn stepped up and stole the puck cleanly, sending Jack stumbling slightly. Lando gasped like he just witnessed a crime.

"That was his own brother!"

"Yeah, well, sibling loyalty doesn’t exist on the ice," I grinned. "Quinn’s the enemy tonight."

Lando let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping back in his seat. "This sport is brutal."

I smirked, knowing he hadn’t seen anything yet.

Midway through the second period, Luke threw a massive hit on one of Quinn’s teammates, and Lando physically jumped in his seat. "Did he just—was that—what the hell?"

"Calm down, babe," I teased. "It's all part of the game."

"And nobody's getting arrested?" he asked, genuinely bewildered.

"Nope."

He ran a hand through his curls and shook his head. "This is insane."

The game continued with Lando throwing out more confused comments. "Why are they fighting?" "Why is that guy going into a tiny penalty box like he's in timeout?" "Wait, they just skate off for a line change? No pit stops?"

I was doing my best to keep up with his endless questions while also enjoying the game, but when Jack finally scored, I grabbed Lando’s arm and yanked him up with me as I cheered.

"Wait, was that Jack?!"

"YES!" I yelled.

Lando laughed at my excitement but still looked slightly overwhelmed by everything happening around him. "I feel like I need a rulebook and a therapist after this."

By the end of the game, the Devils won 4-2, and Jack and Luke had bragging rights over Quinn for the night. After the game, we’re waiting for my brothers when a reporter spots Lando and decides to interview him. The poor guy still looks overwhelmed.

"So, Lando, this was your first NHL game. What did you think?"

Lando exhales dramatically. "Honestly, I have no idea what just happened. I feel like I just watched a war on ice."

The reporter laughs. "Did you have a team you were cheering for?"

Lando glances at me before grinning. "Well, my girlfriend made it pretty clear I had to cheer for Jack and Luke, so I did. But Quinn was insane—I thought he was going to murder someone."

I shake my head as Lando continues rambling about how he still doesn’t understand how half the game is legal. He may be clueless about hockey, but at least now, he’s a fan.

[alasse-irena]

i worked in a public library in a disadvantaged urban area that was open to 9pm every week night. The reality is that there were no more dramas or problems or difficult patrons after 6pm than there were during the day. In fact, the Friday late shift was notorious for being the most boring shift of the week - the only people who come to the library on a Friday night are students looking for a place to study, people looking for somewhere warm to have a nap, and people waiting to meet friends or get picked up by parents.

Yes, we definitely had the kind of problems you described sometimes, mental health crises, drug withdrawal, runaway foster kids, people who just wanted to get in your face because you had the nerve to put up Halloween decorations or and LGBTQ display. And we were lucky enough to have security who came from the local community and had fantastic de-escalation skills. They were always right where I needed them and would follow up with people's families or case workers or put them in touch with community resources when things went wrong. But broadly speaking I think you're wildly overstating how scary and how loud the late evening library users are. None of those things suddenly increase in the evening. The biggest night time problem was invariably students who had got bored of studying getting rowdy with each other (or getting it on in the prayer room).

I also don't really know why you'd see someone posting publicly about their dream of later library opening hours and assume it revealed a lack of interest in and advocacy for libraries. All we can see about this person is that they want to read books after work. Why is it that when we see someone on social media, we assume that what we see on social media makes up the whole of their life? It's just a tiny fraction of most people's lives. We don't know what this person is doing outside of posting online. They could be going to local government meetings. They could be a librarian.

You know what happens when libraries are open till 9pm? You can show up, find a comfy spot and read or study or play videos games for a few hours. That's it. It's no harder or scarier or more dramatic than libraries that are open at 2pm.

This is the DREAM.

[https-lovvers]

hamzah visiting thoughtful sweetheart readers hometown

the summer came around, and as martin and mandy head off to europe, you and your family often went back down to puerto rico, where you had lived for some of your life.

your extended-family still live on a farm that you pretty much grew up on, and you were super excited!

you were excited to ask hamzah if he wanted to come with your family and go meet your grandparents

"hamzah, mama said that you can come down to boricua, did you wanna come and we can pick you up from the airport?" you asked slightly nervously

hamzah was overjoyed and immediately tackled you into a hug, "boi are you kidding, i'd love to come baby oh my god" you giggled slightly.

"i can't wait to meet the rest of your family and all the animals you keep talking about"

you smiled and gave him a kiss. "i'm excited too"

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

you had spent the last few days with your brothers in puerto rico and you were sick of them. you hadn't lived with them all in so long and it was driving you insane. but you looked on the brightside.

hamzah was arriving today!

he had a big flight from turkey and he face-timed you beforehand to let you know he was on his way.

as much as you were excited, nobody was more excited than your grandmother. she had been fussing all day, preparing a big meal, excessively cleaning and nagging you about whether you wanted kids yet or not.

you just giggled at her with your mama as you sat on the couch, keeping your eye on the time.

"are you nervous?" your mama asked.

you smiled, "poor hamzah is probably shaken out of his bones, i'm not nervous mama"

she played with a strand of your hair, "i know he's worried, but i can tell you're nervous too. you have nothing to worry about mi vida. your grandparents will see how much he means to you, and they will like him no matter what."

you smile softly, "thanks mama"

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"hamzah is landing in an hour, can you drive me lo?" you ask your brother lorenzo.

"mmf lets go"

you skip into the car, excited to see your boyfriend again.

your heart drops when you see him. you've been dating him for ages, but no matter how long you'll ever be with him, the swelling of your heart when you see him never stops.

you don't care how cringe it is, you sprint towards him and jump into his arms, and he lets out a little laugh, but you feel him melt into it.

he sets you down, and smiles down at you. "missed you"

you give him a peck and interlock hands, leading him towards your brother's car. "missed you too"

"that was so cringe" your brother says when you get it the car

"you just mad your girlfriend aint here bro" hamzah jokes back

you were happy that your brothers and hamzah got along well, and your brothers sort of adopted him as one of them, making fun of him and joking with him.

when you pull into the driveway of the farm you squeeze hamzah's hand. "you ready?"

he gives you a short nod, and as soon as he steps out of the car he is rushed by your grandmother. she takes one look and says, "oo you've got yourself a looker" and she wraps her hand around his arm, "and he's a strong boy too"

you and hamzah both smile shyly.

"abuela leave him alone."

"nono my dear, come inside i have prepared him some dinner" and she turns to your mama, whispering loud enough for hamzah to hear, "i like him already"

your mama shakes her head with a smile and gives hamzah a hug, "good to see you again hamzah, did you have a good flight?"

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

hamzah takes a seat at the table and he admires all the photos of all family members. he spots a photo of toddler-you sleeping in the barn with the goats and he laughs. "so you grew up sleepy"

"she fell alseep at dinner once, and her face fell into her food" your grandfather says laughing, and the entire household is shaking with, "oh my god i remember that!" and laughter.

you bury your head into hamzahs chest out of mock embarrassment and he giggles.

the rest of the night is filled with embarrassing stories and board games and good food.

"hamzah and are gonna go to bed now" you could tell hamzah was getting tired, and it was no wonder why, jetlag + a long flight.

a chorus of good nights were chanted back as hamzah intertwined his hand with yours.

"thank you for the wonderful meal, and thank you for having me."

"our pleasure"

you guide hamzah up to your bedroom, where the walls were painted pink and your bedsheets were still rainbow. hamzah flops down on your bed and smiles.

"i think they like you" you say as you sit next to him.

"of course they like me" he jokes. you let out a giggle.

after your nightly routine, you and hamzah get under the covers, and face each other. intimately staring at each other, awfully close. "i really love you"

"yeah i love you too or whatever" he jokes "i'm just here for the animals"

"ok goodnight hamzah"

"ok but seriously when can i see all the animals"

you turn away from him, but feel an arm slide around your waist and tickle your sides. you squeal with laughter and try to fight him off. he finally stops after you had nearly knocked the lamp off the nightstand.

you're both out of breath as you close your eyes, curling up to his side. and he whispers, "i really love you too"

ok guys this is really self indulgent and kinda bad but lmk if you want a pt2 (like hamzah visiting the animals and trying to ride a horse or other such things)

ok love you guys!!!

[stopaskingme]

The curious case of Adeyemi's (missing) watch in Conclave (2024)

the longer watch friend and I think on it, the more it blows our minds how intentional the costumers were wrt to the friggin watches in this movie. If you're interested in watch meta for Lawrence, Benitez, Bellini, Tremblay and Tedesco, I have linked the previous posts :D

This post is about Adeyemi's watch and what it means.

To do that, we've to highlight the different shorthands the watches have throughout the movie because despite like 100 close-ups of hands in Conclave, only six characters are depicted with watches.

Only the serious contenders for the papacy.

Before the conclave starts, watches are windows to a Character

they are quick snapshots of who a character is, or their current state of mind.

Tremblay and Tedesco: Watches with black dials, signalling their roles as antagonists;

Bellini and Lawrence: White dials. more on Bellini later.

Benitez: Digital watch face, neutral unknown

Two characters stand out because of how plainly the camera shows us their watches:

Benitez's Casio in his first full-profile shot, and

Lawrence's Orient in the emotionally vulnerable bathroom scene

– and then how completely those watches disappear once the conclave begins, which leads into the second role the watches play once the conclave begins.

x

Watches as Signals of Ambition

Because Benitez and Lawrence lack any desire to be pope, the watches are gone. Even in settings which you'd expect to see them, like the bedroom.

What's the point?

Well, Adeyemi's Watch.

We see glimpses of it when he was still in the running for the papacy.

But that's all we get. Glimpses. His watch cannot be identified.

It can't be an accident, since the movie has been so deliberate about who wears the watches.

Rather, the camera refuses more details on Adeyemi's watch because there's nothing more about him we needed to know.

He didn't need to prove himself. He was the 'natural' successor. He led the votes in the first three ballots. He's the closest thing to a shoo-in candidate.

When Lawrence comes to confront him, he is still wearing his watch. After Adeyemi realises he's lost his chance however, he's stripped of his watch by the next vote.

To hammer the point home, the camera shows us the individual candidates following the results of the next ballot.

Adeyemi sits with his hands tucked under the table.

Tremblay (as the new frontrunner) has a watch, but we don't get to see it fully

Bellini and Tedesco's watches are full-faced, out in the open. They are still actively chasing the papacy

Lawrence, on the other hand, genuinely doesn't want it, so his hands are firmly under the table.

Bellini

The same happens with Tremblay's watch when he's outed for simony. More interesting to note is the one time Bellini loses his watch; when Lawrence shares the report with him.

True, he was in his nightgown. It doesn't make sense for him to be wearing a watch. But he'd also given up on his own candidacy because he'd bought into the idea of a Tremblay papacy.

After Tremblay is out of the running, look who's wearing a watch again!

Lawrence

Most telling of all is Lawrence's watch. The only time it appears after the conclave begins is – you guessed it – WHEN HE VOTES FOR HIMSELF.

And Benitez?

Even during his game-changing monologue, his watch was hidden. We only see it after that in the final voting scene.

Benitez might not have wanted the papacy but he'd grasped the situation. He knew what direction he'd steer the Mother Church if he were elected. His watch is symbolic proof of his conviction and visual proof of his character.

In short, the watches show up when the candidates need to prove themselves worthy of being the next pope.

And they lose their watches when they are no longer eligible.

Going back to Adeyemi, when he realises he's lost his chance, Lawrence places his hand over Adeyemi's wrist when praying for him, covering where his watch would be.

Adeyemi's watch makes its last appearance when Tremblay is outed; his hope rearing its head. But he also realises he doesn't stand a viable chance.

When Benitez is elected, Adeyemi claps in resignation without a watch.

Tremblay's hands are beneath the table. The camera lingers only on the crack in his glasses.

Bellini's Seiko Dolce is there in its full tank face glory. He was never 'disqualified' from the race. Should there be another conclave in his lifetime, he might run again.

Tedesco's Oris out and in even fuller, naked display. He hadn't been 'disqualified' either. He could and would run if he's alive for the next conclave.

x

After the conclave

In the Room of Tears, Benitez holds Lawrence's hands. Benitez wears no watch. There's nothing more we need to know.

We already understand who he is and why he deserves to be Pope.

🐢 Conclave watches part 1 / part 2 / part 3

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

over the last 3 months i have seen myself called (and sometimes blocked for being assumed to be):

a racist/a bigot

homophobic/queerphobic/transphobic

ace/demi-phobic

a fascist

for expressing opinions such as "I found the characters and background stories in Veilguard weaker and less interesting than previous Dragon Age games" and "i miss the amount of tension and conflict that we used to get to explore with the player character depending on their in-game background and life history" and "i did not feel Lucanis' character and romance arc was fully satisfying while I was playing through it".

and since this all started we now have:

seen the entire DA staff laid off from Bioware

heard many now-former bioware devs talking about how toxic the workplace was during the development of DA4

seen allusions to Bioware/EA executives overriding plot/plans that the Dragon Age writers/devs would have preferred

extracted large amounts of cut content from the games that show things like increased emotional response range for Rook, or alternate endings for companion arcs (NOT concept art content, but actual written and even voice-recorded dialogue in the game files), or increased impact from decisions you could make in the game

IN ADDITION to what we ALREADY knew about how many times the game changed direction/leadership changed/the mid-process layoffs, etc.

so can we maybe not keep putting "people who come into the Dragon Age universe from a place of love and were ultimately disappointed with the latest installment" in the same trash bucket as "dudes on twitter who were mad there were trans/nonbinary characters in their AAA game". can we FUCKING as a community acknowledge that there are many reasons someone might not jive with a change in direction other than jumping to "they disagree with me so they must obviously be horrible people, whose opinions shouldn't be counted anyway" (<-if this is your first impulse maybe examine that also).

i am so tired and i am never gonna get an apology for any of it but NOW that a lot of the people who were posting/reblogging these sentiments are hearing/seeing all these other things add up. it's like suddenly now it's "acceptable" to have problems with aspect of Veilguard or want more from it, because the writers/devs have shown they probably did too during it's creation. whereas when I said these things right off the bat (because the only thing we had was the game we got. not the game we can pretend they wanted to make instead) it WASN'T because apparently expressing opinions on my personal tumblr counts as "being mean to/harassing devs who worked hard on the game" or, again, assumed I am a racist/bigot/facist/queerphobic.

you're allowed to still like Veilguard. it's fine i promise. you can love the game if you love it and my not loving it has nothing to do with your own relationship to this piece of media. i am happy there are people who truly can enjoy it without massive Caveats. but i am still seeing like 3-5 posts Per Week express those opinions and it is really destroying my love for the community i once enjoyed.

[solxamber]

Hi, Sol! I saw an anon asking whether it's possible to send more than one request for the Valentine's event, and I was glad to see you answer that we can send 2, since I also struggled to choose between multiple songs that I like. My second request would be: [Lilia, romantic, song: Carrousel by Amir ft. Indila]

It's a beautiful French love song, and there's an English lyrics video for it that you can watch here

I love Lilia so much, I just can't get enough of that gorgeous bat fae!💘

love the song!! made me so giddy

"Until life's final breath" || Lilia Vanrouge

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Carrousel by Amir (ft. Indila)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 680

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Realisation of feelings

The first time Lilia met you, he thought you were a dream. A fleeting wisp of moonlight, a whisper of laughter on the wind, something too enchanting to be real. The second time he met you, he realized with a start—you were real, and more dangerous than any dream could ever be.

Because you never let him rest.

You met his games, his riddles, his flourishes, and mirrored them back tenfold. When he bowed low and spun charming lies, you danced circles around him with a knowing smile.

When he spoke of fleeting pleasures, you made him yearn for something that would last. He has spent centuries flitting from one amusement to the next, and yet, somehow, you have made him linger.

It is maddening. It is intoxicating.

It is like spinning on a carousel that never stops.

“Another dance?” Lilia purrs, offering his gloved hand with a smirk. The ballroom is empty save for you two, bathed in silver moonlight streaming through towering glass windows. The music has long since stopped, but that has never mattered before. He has no need for an orchestra when he has your laughter.

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” you say, slipping your hand into his. Your grip is warm, steady. Dangerous.

The world tilts as he pulls you into the first step, guiding you into a waltz that belongs only to the two of you. There is no one watching, no audience to perform for, and yet Lilia still plays the role of the roguish prince. He twirls you, eyes glinting with mischief, feeling the rush of the dance, the rush of you.

He has spent lifetimes on countless stages, spinning stories and weaving illusions. But when you look at him like this, with eyes that see through all his artifice, he wonders if he is the one who has been enchanted.

“Are you truly enchanted by me,” he murmurs, voice teasing, playful—because it must be, because if it isn’t, then he might have to admit he is afraid of the answer. “Or do you just love the fantasy?”

Your step does not falter. You meet his gaze, unshaken, unblinking, as if you have known the answer all along. And when you smile—soft, knowing, devastating—he feels his entire world slow to a halt.

“Does it matter?” you whisper. “I love you either way.”

Lilia stills.

For the first time in this never-ending carousel, his heart misses a beat.

He dips you low, hands steady even as his mind races. And when he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, he tastes every moment of longing he never dared name. Every stolen glance, every teasing word, every heartbeat that was never meant to quicken so traitorously in your presence.

You have bewitched him. And he has let you.

The world spins on. The carousel does not stop.

But for the first time in centuries, Lilia does not want to get off.

He finds you later that night, perched on the edge of a balcony, gazing at the stars as if they are whispering secrets just for you. The wind ruffles your clothes, catching in your hair, and for a moment, Lilia is struck silent.

Resplendent.

The word does not do you justice. Nothing could.

“You look troubled,” you say, tilting your head. “Regretting that kiss already?”

Lilia huffs, stepping beside you, resting his arms against the railing. “Regret? I’ve lived far too long to waste time on such things.”

“Oh?” You smirk. “Then what is it?”

He watches you, feeling the carousel turn once more, faster and faster, dizzying and endless and terrifying. His answer comes so easily that it almost startles him.

“I wish to stay with you forever.”

You blink, but your surprise is brief. Then you smile, eyes bright, as if you had been waiting for him to say it all along.

“Then stay.”

And he will.

He will spin with you for as long as you let him, forever caught in the dazzling, breathless waltz of your love.

He does not mind the dizziness anymore.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[thankyouforholding]

me playing SSH in 2009, young and innocent: wow this is so cool :) i love how detailed the museum is, it feels like it could be a real exhibit

me playing SSH in 2017, having worked in actual museums and knowing a little something about How Tourists Do: oh my god. what the FUCK. why is half of your exhibit locked behind doors that require playing games to complete. who the fuck is going to want to do that. crowd control?? hello?? everyone bunching around the games, fighting for a turn, then bunching around the itty-bitty doors, swiping their cards one at a time, to go down narrow rickety stairs?? all while fighting the people going back UP the narrow rickety stairs to find more answers in the exhibit??DISASTER. DISGRACE. and the fucking TEMPLE STAIRS??? henrik's not going to be the only one in the hospital after your first school group tears through there. we're very sorry, mrs. johnson, timmy took a swan dive after his classmates got a little too hype about the whole "human sacrifice" thing. no we didn't have any railings or barriers why do you ask. ACCESSIBILITY??? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT??? EVERYONE CAN DO STAIRS AND NAVIGATE NARROW CORRIDORS, NO PROBSIES. OH YOU CAN'T?? GUESS YOU'LL MISS HALF OF THE EXHIBIT YOU PAID TO SEE, BUMMER. WAIT WHY ARE YOU MAD AT US. beech hill is fucking screwed, y'all. i would not be on that staff on opening day if you paid me a million fucking dollars. pandemonium. anarchy. angry sweaty tourists. rascal rebellion, indeed.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY MONTHLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

The fics I’ve read and enjoyed for the month of January. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines by SilverSkiesAtMidnight

He has never argued with a punishment, not since he was a toddler, if then. Surely she’ll listen, surely she’ll see this is too harsh, that he wouldn’t be disrespecting her like this if he was simply sulking over not getting his way. He needs that food, needs to be able to eat enough if he wants to be Robin.

He’s been hungry before, but back then, it never mattered if he was a little weak or dizzy. It never risked his life or the life of his partner when he was a kid.

She turns, sighing softly and pursing her lips. She reaches out to pat his cheek, and for a moment his heart soars hopefully, and he barely restrains himself from leaning into the rare bit of contact and soaking up his mother’s touch. “Oh, Timothy,” she tuts. “This is for the best. And honestly, I think it’s wise for you to cut down a bit on the snacks. I’d hate to have to listen to anyone tittering at the next gala that you’re getting chubby.”

And without another backwards glance, she turns and heads upstairs, leaving Tim alone and frozen at the bottom of the steps.

Day 6 - TOUCH AND GO bruises | touch starved | hunger

Screaming In The Dark (While We All Play Our Part) by WakingNightmares

The boy makes a choked off noise, but slowly, with trembling hands, he pulls the hood of his hoodie down. “I… I… I’m… Robin.”

Immediately, Oliver steps back, pulling the knife out of his bathrobe pocket.

Robin. There’s no way this boy is Robin. Logically, Oliver knows that ‘Robin’, protege to the greatest serial killer in American history, is young, but there’s been sightings of the boy for over a decade. The young man standing in front of him is Roy’s age. Robin, with over thirty suspected kills of his own, can’t be this scared, frightened looking thing standing in front of him.

Dick's kept his promise, and finally escaped with his brothers. Now he just has to figure out what comes next.

Cats and Communication by InkpotSprite

Damian wants to befriend Tim, but after their difficult start, Tim is more guarded than ever.

Then Dick says something that changes everything.

"Treat him like an abused cat."

And Damian does.

Clone Wars

one step back and to the left by sithlordbinks

Cody’s mouth is dry, words stuck in his mind. Which perhaps is a good thing considering in response to I think I may have you, all Cody’s brain is providing him is please do.

And it’s then, Cody realizes, that with the most inconvenient, embarrassing, unprofessional timing ever, he’s hard.

Kriff. Fucking kriff.

or: cody thinks he's doing Real Great at the friends with benefits thing with his general. spoiler: he is not…and somehow this saves the entire galaxy

The Hunger Games

17 Last Words from Hunger Games Tributes That Are STILL Echoing In Our Heads. Yes, Still. by ghostwriterofthemachine

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! We can’t wait until we can say Happy Hunger Games in earnest (only another month!), but in the meantime, we are celebrating the best moment of Games from years past. Make sure you also check out our list of the most iconic final showdowns and our favorite post-victory moments. What’s on the plate for today? Glad you asked! The Games are all about triumph, but they’re also all about tragedy (which makes those victories even sweeter). Today, we’re looking at 17 final moments from Tributes that we are still thinking about. To make it harder for ourselves, we could only pick one from each Games (so if your favorite didn’t make the cut, that could be why!). Some made us scream, some made us cry, and a few even made us laugh (you’ll see!). Read on! 

A listicle from Capitol Buzzfeed.

SVSSS

FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: On My Time as a Student Under Shen Qingqiu by Margo_Kim

On the desk in between Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu was a printout of the email. Shen Qingqiu refused to look at it. If he tried very hard, he could pretend it wasn’t there. When the email had hit his inbox this morning, Shen Qingqiu had read it and reread enough to have it memorized, as he tried to comprehend the meaning of these words arranged in this order. The second that comprehension dawned upon him, he’d deleted the email then promptly tried to forget everything about it.

He wasn’t being very successful on that front.

The message, written with the extraordinary eloquence that Shen Qingqiu knew Luo Binghe was capable of, had been sent en masse to the entire faculty and student body. It stated two main points. Firstly, that Luo Binghe attested that Shen Qingqiu had never slept with, assaulted, molested, groomed, or was in any way inappropriate to him during his time at Cang Qiong Academy (thanks for the endorsement, Binghe!!). Secondly, that Luo Binghe was announcing this because he intended to marry Shen Qingqiu and did not want even the whisper of false impropriety to stain his Shizun’s name. 

Original Works

Inheritance by Juna_R

Rulin discovers the house his cousin had left him came with three magical “dependants”. And they haven’t been fed since the day of the funeral.

[thesweetnessofspring]

Writing this because @lasthaysileeshipper brought up that there is a connection with how fandom views of Mrs. Everdeen and her mental illness coincide with misogyny and I have thoughts.

First I want to say that this is a topic that often gets personalized. Many people experienced their own childhood neglect/abuse and as we carry ourselves into fiction, that leads to intense feelings when seeing it played out. However, there is also a lot that gets said about Mrs. Everdeen (even by well-intentioned people who don't hate her) that carries an implicit bias against women, mothers, and those with mental illness. I hope that this leads to reflection rather than blame, and if you have anything to say I'm open to respectful discussion.

Katniss's Mother: The One the Fandom Made into Medea

You've heard about the Madonna/Whore complex, now I propose Mary/Medea: a fictional mother must be an absolute perfect selfless saint whose identity revolves solely around her children, or else be a selfish abusive demon with no redeeming qualities whatsoever

tumblr post by @gingerpolyglot

If you've been in the Hunger Games fandom for a minute, you've seen the hate and criticism directed at Mrs. Everdeen. She's been called a bad mother, weak, neglectful, incapable, the "worst" character in the series, and more. If you've read the series then you know why: after the death of her husband, Mrs. Everdeen "didn't do anything but sit propped up in a chair or, more often, huddled under the blankets on her bed, eyes fixed on some point in the distance." And while she did "slowly" return to a state where she was able to complete activities of daily living, it was "months" of "neglect," where Katniss was feeding her family; foraging and hunting in the woods; and trading at the Hob. Anyone can see how this, following the death of their father, is incredibly traumatizing for Katniss and Prim. It's a position that no child should be in, which is why we have families, communities, and social services to protect children when their parent is unable to care for them and hopefully, get help for the parent, too. For the Everdeens in Panem, however, none of these existed. At least none that would truly help them, as Katniss fears going to The Home where children are physically abused. All of this left a deep wound on Katniss and we can assume Prim as well.

But, rather than critiquing Panem for dangerous work conditions that killed Mr. Everdeen, or the scarcity of food, or the social divides which isolated Mrs. Everdeen after her marriage to Mr. Everdeen, or the lack of social services, the blame has often been laid directly at the feet of Mrs. Everdeen who exhibits symptoms of catatonia. This is a feature that can be part of other disorders (rather than a diagnosis itself) and can be found in schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, brief psychotic disorder, and depression (and though not in the DSM-5, there's also some evidence of it also appearing in those with PTSD). From the DSM-5, Mrs. Everdeen meets criteria to have catatonia specified with another disorder (likely depression) by having three of the following symptoms:

Stupor: "she didn't do anything but sit propped up in a chair, more often, huddled under the blankets of her bed, eyes fixed on some point in the distance."

Mutism-same quote as above: she didn't do anything. No speech and Katniss doesn't report her making any noise. While not the books, the movies portrayed this as Katniss begging her mother to "say something" while she does not.

Negativism ("opposition or no response to instructions or external stimuli"). "No amount of pleading from Prim seemed to affect her."

Catatonia is a serious condition that requires hospitalization, psycho-pharmaceuticals, and once the catatonia is passed, therapy, to prevent a relapse. If left untreated, catatonia can lead to death or injury.

Here is the first point where misogyny comes into play of how the fandom responds to Mrs. Everdeen. I have seen her condition described as "grief" or "depression" but not what the text indicates it is: depression with catatonic features. The list above has links to the URMC's Department of Psychology with training videos on catatonia symptoms. I'd encourage you to watch it, because that is the level of mental illness Mrs. Everdeen was stuck in. It was not regular grief or a moderate depression. Katniss, who has no diagnostic language, says her mother was "locked in some dark world" during this time.

Women's symptoms are downplayed in the medical field because they're "emotional," "dramatic," and "hysterical." Here, we often see the fandom do the same. Even those who don't express outright hatred for her character will soften the truth of what she was facing with her catatonia. Again, it's "when her husband died" and "grief" and "depression." All of those are certainly hard, but they often retain some amount of functioning when given enough motivation and coping skills. But Mrs. Everdeen did not have any functioning. It was literally impossible for her to do anything in that period of time because of her catatonia. She says "I couldn't help...I was ill" and a large portion of the fandom simply doesn't believe her.

And on the more hostile side, I have seen people say they "don't care" about Mrs. Everdeen's mental illness. Apparently, being a mother means that Mrs. Everdeen should have fought through this catatonic depression. That the power of love or the innate protectiveness that all good mothers have would make Mrs. Everdeen's brain chemicals start working and snap her out of this catatonia. However, despite what you see in the movies, that's not how serious mental illness works, especially without support. It's not a matter of love or will power. Mothers can and do experience serious mental illness that make them unable, for various periods of time, to care for their children. Sometimes, motherhood even causes this or exacerbates it. Motherhood does not give anyone the ability to turn off mental illness.

This was (as far as we know) Mrs. Everdeen's first experience with serious mental illness in a place where there are no social services, no therapists, no psychiatrists, no spiritual leaders. Additionally, no family, friends, or neighbors came to support the family, either. No one thought to check in on them or cared about any signs of their condition. Doing anything for the first time leads to mistakes and this first experience was by all definition a crisis of which she hadn't been prepared nor given any support beyond what her two children could offer. A position that Katniss and Prim shouldn't have had to deal with.

This also leads into the other time that people look at and say, "I can forgive Mrs. Everdeen when her husband died, but when she didn't go back to Twelve with Katniss, that was it. She became unforgivable."

Let's back up: Mrs. Everdeen has lost her husband, seen her oldest daughter enter two Hunger Games, watched her home be bombed and burned, survived another bombing, was a nurse during a war, and then her youngest daughter was blown up at the age of 13. Rather than going into a catatonic depression, she "buries her grief in her work." When Katniss is taken back to District 12, she's given a letter from her mother, which she doesn't read initially and never says what was in. Haymitch says, "You know why she can't come back" to which Katniss's narration says "Because between my father and Prim and the ashes, the place is too painful to bear."

Mrs. Everdeen has a history of catatonic depression. This means that she is at a higher risk of relapsing. She knows that her husband's death triggered this mental illness and that she is once again experiencing the loss of one of the people she loves most, her young daughter. She also knows that when she was in a catatonic depression, she traumatized her surviving daughter. Additionally, Panem has just finished a war. Therapists are rare in Panem, even more to find a surviving one and let's be honest—how many of them are good? Katniss and Peeta are prioritized for treatment due to their fame and their history of violence toward others. While Mrs. Everdeen has connections, it's unlikely she would be prioritized for treatment and additionally, there are likely many people with acute mental health needs after the war.

If Mrs. Everdeen returned to District 12, she would be likely to do extremely poorly mentally and emotionally, perhaps to the point of becoming catatonic again. People will blame her, calling her weak and neglectful again. But I think what we have to consider is: did Mrs. Everdeen think that staying away would help Katniss? That she identified what would trigger her, and so rather than Katniss having to see her mother in that state again and traumatizing her again, she made the choice to stay away, in hopes that her absence would be the better choice for them.

In the end, we don't know for sure all of her reasoning. This is my hypothesis that this is why she stayed away. But I find that most people don't take Mrs. Everdeen's assessment of herself seriously. They again downplay just how terrible her mental health could become, and by extension, further traumatize Katniss. And maybe you think that her presence, no matter the state, is better than her absence. But you have to admit, Mrs. Everdeen is stuck with no good answer. Either way, she loses.

And so, Mrs. Everdeen is "a bad mother."

Perhaps because Katniss does it herself in CF, people will compare Gale's mother to Katniss's. Hazelle lost her husband in the same mining accident and was pregnant at the time. Yet she went to work as a laundress, she pulled her family together, she is a strong one. And, though the book is not out yet, there have already been many comparisons to how Haymitch's Ma is another one of the "good" mothers after her husband died, because she went to work, not like Mrs. Everdeen. Isn't it tragic that Mrs. Abernathy, one of the good mothers, will be dead by the end of the book she appears in?

And so, the fandom has given its crowns to Hazelle and Mrs. Abernathy. They are "The Good" mothers who have done no wrong toward their children. They are Marys. But Mrs. Everdeen, dirty with mental illness, is "The Bad" mother. She is Medea, the source and cause of Katniss's trauma. Nevermind that Hazelle is such a minor character she only appears in three scenes of the books and that she relied on Gale as much as or more than Mrs. Everdeen relied on Katniss, or that everything we know so far about Mrs. Abernathy is from one released excerpt and one sentence from Haymitch in the original trilogy. But from what we do know, she also relies on her sons to keep their family from starvation, not unlike Mrs. Everdeen with Katniss.

And nevermind that this take also actively negates many good things we do know about Mrs. Everdeen. Like the fact that she did work and earn money/items: she was a healer (and possibly did this even before Mr. Everdeen died). And, by all accounts, that she was an excellent healer, knowing how to treat all kinds of injuries and illnesses and kept a cool head while doing it. And that nearly all interactions we see between herself and Katniss, she is caring for her daughter: drawing and heating her bath, braiding her hair, giving her an excuse to be less affectionate with Peeta, treating her foot, putting her on a diet to build muscle before the Quell, treating her whenever she was in the hospital. Mrs. Everdeen is also the one that Prim wanted to sleep with the night before her first reaping, showing that her younger daughter still saw her as a protective figure. Also, after an entire nation has come to know Katniss and her circle has expanded, Mrs. Everdeen is one of three people Katniss believes truly loves her at that point in time.

And yet, how often is any of this discussed about her? Hardly ever. What is mostly discussed is her neglect, the places she failed and stumbled, pointing the finger and laying the blame, while rarely providing any context around the fact that at the time, she was mentally ill to the point that today she would have been hospitalized. The adjectives given to her are things like weak, frail, useless, and neglectful which are completely based on the worst episode of her life. I wonder how all of us would like the same treatment, for our most shameful period of time to be how people describe us.

Mrs. Everdeen is far from the only character in the series with mental illness. This mostly comes in the form of PTSD and substance use disorder. Characters with the most prominent symptoms include: Katniss, Haymitch, Finnick, Johanna, and Annie (the latter also having some kind of diagnosis that would fall under or feature psychosis). Peeta also has PTSD and his hijacking to contend with, and Coriolanus Snow has traits that align with narcissistic personality disorder.

And yet...why is Mrs. Everdeen's mental illness the most maligned out of all of these characters? Some may say because hers almost lead to Katniss and Prim dying. But President Snow is responsible for the deaths of thousands of children, and Haymitch was also willing to gamble with Katniss's and Peeta's life for the rebellion, two kids who became his family. All of these other characters have actually killed somebody, and Peeta's hijacking also directly led to him strangling Katniss and trying again to kill her in the Capitol.

So why is it that Mrs. Everdeen is the most hated? Possibly Snow is the exception, but since TBOSAS, he has equal number of admirers both in terms of his looks and general interest of his character, while Mrs. Everdeen is dismissed at best and hated at worst.

I think this also links back to an implicit bias against the feminine. Haymitch, Finnick, Peeta, Snow—they're all men. Even Peeta, the most feminine of these four, is masculine. Katniss has both masculine and feminine traits, but oftentimes, people see her masculine traits more. Johanna is the same: her brash attitude is more masculine than feminine. Annie is presented as feminine, with Finnick's insistence on protecting her and her fragility and youth and long wavy dark hair. She is presented as the "good" feminine, the kind that must be guarded and coddled. The "good" kind of weakness (this, too, is misogyny).

Mrs. Everdeen, however, is the "bad" feminine. Blond, middle-aged, polite, and entirely lacking power. She is the opposite of Katniss's wild hunter side as the quiet healer, working with plants and seemingly not doing the "dirty" work outdoors, even though she's probably come in contact with every type of bodily fluid as a result of her work. And of course, she's been blemished by the label of "bad mother" nor is she young to garner sympathy and protection.

Mrs. Everdeen's trauma that kickstarted her depression is different than the others. Snow was traumatized by war. The rest are all victors, who had to see and do horrible things to survive. Mrs. Everdeen.....lost her husband. The fact that this is what kicked off her mental illness makes it feminine and flimsy compared to those that came from the Games. It wasn't a metaphor for a soldier that caused her mental illness, but weakening at the loss of a man. Surely a strong woman, another "good" feminine, wouldn't have gotten mentally ill at the loss of her husband (look at Hazelle and Mrs. Abernathy).

Everyone else, even feminine Annie, has masculine trauma. Mrs. Everdeen has feminine trauma. What a crime. How pathetic. She shouldn't have even been mentally ill in the first place.

And so she's been stuck in fandom discussion for fifteen years. The bad mother, the Medea, who not only wasn't strong enough to fight against her mental illness, she did it as a weak, pathetic woman.

I'm going against this call and I will say that I consider Mrs. Everdeen a good mother. Her story is laced with tragedy that challenged her and brought great strain in her relationship with Katniss. But we know that she loved her daughters and always cared for them at the greatest capacity she was able to at any time. She was calm, level-headed, and even rebellious, which was eventually challenged because she became a mother and wanted to protect her children. Even those who sympathize with her rarely say it, so I'll end this with my final conclusion:

Mrs. Everdeen was a good mother. Not a Mary, and not a Medea, but simply a good mother.

More discussion from me because I know it will come up:

Katniss, as the victim of her mother's neglect, is allowed to feel any type of way she wants about what happened to her. However we see through the series that she is able to sympathize with her mother and even forgives her and becomes closer to her through the three books. Katniss's relationship with her mother is complicated (as it should be). There is also a lot of room for growth and healing that I hope happened after the war.

[voxslays]

IT’LL BE OKAY — HWANG IN-HO

SUMMARY: During the second vote, you cant help but break down, begging the other players not to vote X (hurt/comfort). A/N: This is based off that one scene in episode five, when young-mi starts crying during the vote, saying “I don’t wanna die here.”

The vote had started. You watched as people walked up and cast their votes. When one person voted X, the next voted O. The votes were scarily even, and you didn’t know what you’d do if you weren’t able to leave. You didn’t know how much longer you could last in such a place. You didn’t want to die.

When player 126 stepped to vote, he was interrupted by Gi-hun. “Everyone!” He shouts, before Young-il steps in. “Are you all out of your minds?” There’s a murmur among the crowd. What’s he doing? “You still want to keep going after watching all those people die?” He pauses. “Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game!? We have to stop.”

“Come to your senses, and leave with that money. You’ve got to survive first, or there won’t be a next step.” Murmurs of agreement surround you. Maybe you really did have a chance at getting out of here. You lock eyes with Young-il, giving him a small smile. “There’s no next step for us! That money won’t change anything!” A small man steps out of the O crowd. “With that amount of money, I won’t last long.”

“After one game, the amount more than tripled!” Player 100 adds. “If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!” It was all too much. You felt the walls closing around you as the blue and red lights on the floor illuminated the large, dark dormitory. “I can’t do this anymore!” You sob. The crowd goes quiet. “Please let me out of here.” You pause, choking on your own tears. “I don’t wanna die here.”

“Young lady.” You look up as a man approaches from the O crowd. “You’re young, so you’d probably have another chance.” He places his hands on your shoulders. “Please.” From the corner of your eye, you see Young-il’s jaw twitch as he approaches. “My family and I have no future-” and then, BAM! Young-il’s fist connects with the mans jaw. You gasp.

“If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’d be the end for you and your family!” He yells. Yet, it’s all in vain as player 100 riles up the crowd, chanting ‘one more game!’ You know it’s useless to cry, but you can’t help it—you let it all out. You cry and cry as the votes are counted up and the O’s win once again. Why was the world so cruel to you?

After the vote, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up into the warm, crinkled eyes of Young-il as he sits beside you, pulling you close. “I’ll get you out of here.” He sighs. “I promise.” You sniffle, wiping your tears. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” The older man gently grabs your jaw and tilts it upwards, so your eyes meet his. “I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry. Next round we’ll win the vote.” He pauses.

“It’ll be okay.”

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 22 (Alt 1): Major Character Death

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n_gossip

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 231,445 others

tagged: y/n_rb, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris

y/n_gossip: during this small break in the schedule, y/n spent some of that time with Lando, Charles, and Max! They streamed together quite a bit and went through a handful of games.

What were your favorite moments?

view all comments

user1: them playing among us!

↳user2: oh I loved that!!

↳user1: they made it extremely fun to watch!

user3: personally I liked Minecraft — very soothing

↳user4: y/n kept pushing Lando off cliffs??

↳user3: well that was just funny

↳y/n_rb: see you get it!

user5: personally i liked watching y/n kill off lando in every version of the game she could

↳user5: like even in Minecraft sandbox, she was pushing him off cliffs, building him into the buildings, laying tnt all around him

↳user6: gotta respect that hater grind!

user7: i liked when they raced…

↳user8: those were funny! Cause they kept changing the rules on themselves and running each other if track

↳use7: they forgot they needed to win. They just tried to get the others to lose!

alex_albon: what??? Have I been erased from this group?

↳georgerussell63: I know what you mean…

↳y/n_rb: sorry only those of us who hadn’t driven for Williams were allowed to play

landonorris: stop cheering her on! SHE JEPT KILLING ME OFK!!

↳user9: yeah that’s what made it so funny

↳landonorris: bullying me?? On my own comment thread?

↳y/n_rb: more likely then you think!

Private Messages, the Grid (Unserious)

y/n_rb

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 1,753,964 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, alex_albon

y/n_rb: join us tonight! Because there’s an imposter among us

view all comments

user10: Hell yeah!!

user11: oh I’m so glad I’m free to watch this

landonorris: it’s you. You’re the imposter

↳y/n_rb: ok why the attack? We haven’t even started yet

↳landonorris: you’re just gonna go after me the entire time

↳y/n_rb: again I was only the imposter once last time!!

↳landonorris: and yet…

↳charles_leclerc: see! We’re already having fun

oscarpiastri: wow…no invitations for us?

↳logansargeant: she’s forgotten us

↳liamlawson30: becomes a big shot racer and forgets where she came from…

↳y/n_rb: when I asked if you guys wanted to play, you acted like I asked you to travel the 9 circles of hell

↳user12: that bad huh?

↳y/n_rb: yes! They were very dramatic

↳user12: I actually meant you tbh liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, liamlawson30

↳y/n_rb: rude!

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67 @Americanvenom13 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @yawn-zi

[caeslxys]

Your tags...you're right and you should say it, honestly. Saying C3 deserved a few more episodes could sound like your average "I wish my show never ended" take, except...what was everything for, if BH don't get to exist in the aftermath? Their endgame choice, everything they've been working towards, was informed by them having been on the moon and met its people. Final episodes aside, if the Ruidus plot is The BH Thing, I really wish the first trip could've had them less in a rush to report back. I wish they had the opportunity to connect even more with Ruidians and, yeah, I wish they had fought the Weavemind. I'm also rambling, sorry! I just can't believe it's controversial or made to sound like hate to say we shouldn't be begging for Moon x BH crumbs in the Moon x BH campaign.

Prefacing this with reinforcing that I truly, deeply adore those final bells hells episodes and what they contain. They’re fantastic critical role episodes in general but more importantly to me they are fantastic bells hells episodes. In a vacuum, i’m extremely happy with what we got.

That said, yeah, c3’s ending on the grander scale of its narrative structure in totality was unbelievably (and, frankly, unnecessarily) rushed. Everything since episode 91 has been in a spiral towards a finish they simply could have chosen not to spiral into so quickly. And this is seen in several things: from how Delilah was “handled” with next to no actual processing or difficulty, to the nein’s inclusion not bearing any narrative weight beyond the vague feeling of having some “avengers assemble” moment i simply did not care for and think ultimately took from bells hell’s story rather than added to it (which, were it not all rushed, is something it could have been given to them and their inclusion in the way that vox machina’s inclusion did), to the hells not even actually being able to participate in what their own campaign was ultimately about beyond quick epilogue scenes and one political discussion that they didn’t even all need to participate in.

I think the decision to have c3 be “the end of an era” irt to critical role’s ten years deeply hurt both its structure and its narrative intent. I still remember them marketing this campaign as a good jumping in point for new critters, and yet the finale doesn’t even end with bells hells. It ends on vox machina. That, to me—and in addition to the vox machina and mighty nein solo episodes—showcases a clear shift in intent that happened way, way too late to feel at all fulfilling as an audience member looking in. I’m sure as players it rocked, which I point out because obviously the fun factor matters substantially as well, but that has no bearing on criticism of the narrative it produces.

All that said: it’s truly incredible to me how much of this would have been fixed very simply by just…having more episodes. You could say this of anything but I feel it’s extremely noticeable in this story—the one thing it needed to make the constant rushing pace of its forward plot land was a denouement that allowed the characters and story to breathe for more than one eight hour episode. Bells Hells needed to learn about the culture on Ruidus. They needed to spend more time with the volition—more time even with Liliana, I would argue. They should have had their story structured in such a way that they fought the weavemind and ludinus both (especially if matt knew ludinus would ultimately make it out). They should have actually had to delve into what the story had set them up to delve into.

I adore, to pieces, campaign 3 and bells hells. I think much of the ire thrown towards it is unwarranted at best and often misplaced. But I will likely also always be at least a little mad that their final act was so clearly rushed.

[nameless-jamie]

Hiii, saw your pole and I'm obsessed with mutual pining!!! Can you write about AFC Richmond playing in a different city and after the match they have no curfew, but Roy takes Jamie for an all night training session and it just Jamie and PA missing each other throughout the night? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺

Match Away

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to post, I had a rough few days…

TW: cursing, suggestive language/scenes

Jamie was sulking.

Not in an obvious, pouting like a child way—at least, not in public—but Y/N knew him too well to miss the little signs. The way his responses had been shorter than usual when she told him she wasn’t coming on the away game. The dramatic sighs. The way he had muttered, ‘S’not even worth goin’ then,’ under his breath, like he wasn’t literally contractually obligated to be there.

“Babe, you know I’d come if I could,” she had said, smoothing her hands over his chest, knowing exactly how to coax a real response from him.

“Don’t see why you can’t,” Jamie grumbled, dropping his forehead against hers.

“Because somebody has a schedule so packed it needs a miracle worker,” she teased. “And somebody also has sponsorship paperwork that needs finalizing before the deadline.”

Jamie exhaled heavily. “Sounds like a lot.”

“It is,” she said pointedly.

“So,” he murmured, nudging her nose with his, “couldn’t you just... not do it?”

Y/N huffed a laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Oh, yeah, great plan. Let’s just see what happens when you don’t show up for your next big Nike campaign because I didn’t confirm your shoot.”

Jamie groaned, leaning back on the couch dramatically. “Babe. I need you there.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Will I?” He gave her the biggest, most tragic eyes she’d ever seen.

“You will,” she laughed.

“I won’t,” he said immediately.

But he had, of course. Barely.

The match had been a success—AFC Richmond clinching a narrow but well-earned victory in an away game that had everyone riding high on adrenaline. The team was in a different city, the air electric with post-match energy, and for the first time in ages, there was no curfew. No early morning drills. No scheduled meetings. Just freedom to celebrate.

Jamie had been looking forward to it—spending time with the team, sneaking away for a quiet moment alone to call Y/N. After everything—the missed voicemails, the confession, the stolen touches and whispered I love yous—he wanted to just be with her. He missed her.

But, of course, Roy fucking Kent had other plans.

Just as the team was heading out to celebrate, Roy had grabbed Jamie by the back of his training jacket and grunted, “You. Extra training. Now.”

Jamie had groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Oh, come on, Coach. We won. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No,” Roy had answered, completely unmoved.

So Jamie had sighed heavily, and trudged off behind Roy, muttering about “cruel and unusual punishment” as he disappeared into the night.

Y/N hadn’t intended to surprise him.

At first, she had genuinely needed to stay behind, sorting out his brand deals and upcoming events, because as much as Jamie complained about the responsibilities that came with being him, Y/N was the one who made sure it all actually happened.

But by the time she had checked off the last task, hours earlier than expected, she had started to regret not going.

Because Jamie had been relentless.

Jamie: I miss you. Jamie: I miss you more. Jamie: Why aren’t you texting me back? Have you replaced me? Jamie: Who is he?? Y/N: Jesus Christ, Jamie. It’s been 15 minutes. Jamie: That’s 15 minutes too long.

And then later—

Jamie: Team’s going out. Can’t even be arsed. Y/N: Go. Have fun. Jamie: Not fun without you.

By then, she had already made her decision.

She had booked the next available flight, packed a small bag, and by the time the team was getting ready for their match, she was already on her way.

He had no idea.

Which was why it was so fucking annoying that, after a full day of traveling just to surprise him, she was the one left waiting for him.

Because Jamie Tartt wasn’t in his hotel room.

No, Jamie Tartt was off suffering under Roy Kent’s iron fist, training in the middle of the fucking night while Y/N sat on the edge of his bed.

It wasn’t like she had planned it—she hadn’t flown across the country just to seduce him—but after all their pining, all their stolen kisses, all their missed moments, she wanted him to walk into his hotel room and see her looking like something out of one of his dreams.

And she knew Jamie.

He would lose his fucking mind.

If he ever actually got here...

Now, hours later, Y/N decided to go to the hotel bar with the rest of the team, nursing a drink she barely cared about, distracted and restless as she scrolled through her phone. She and Jamie had been texting the whole time. She was tired of sitting in the room all night.

Jamie: Roy is a demon. Jamie: Been runnin’ for hours. Might die. Jamie: If I do, tell everyone I loved you the most.

She had smiled at that, typing back:

Y/N: Dramatic. You literally do this for a living. Y/N: I miss you.

His reply had been immediate.

Jamie: I miss you more. Like, physically hurts how much I miss you. Jamie: Think I’m love sick. Jamie: Probably the worst case in history.

She had rolled her eyes, but her stomach had fluttered all the same.

It continued like that for hours—little messages, him sneaking a text when Roy wasn’t looking, her checking her phone between conversations with Sam and Isaac, neither of them quite able to focus on anything else.

But the celebration started winding down. The team, exhausted from the match (and the drinking), started retreating to their hotel rooms. She had lingered in the lobby for a while, hoping Jamie would be done soon, but after a final text—

Jamie: Roy says one more hour. Kill me.

—she had given up, heading to Jamie's room alone. Trying to make the best out of the situation and surprise him.

She had barely gotten comfortable in bed, wearing the most ridiculous excuse for sleepwear, when her phone buzzed.

Jamie: Done. Finally. Jamie: My legs are fucked. Jamie: Callin' you soon. Got to get to my room.

Y/N had barely processed the text when she heard the key card being inserted into the door.

By the time Jamie dragged himself through the door, he was exhausted, half-delirious, and so sore he was considering never forgiving Roy Kent. His shirt was damp with sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead, and his usual cocky smirk was slightly loopy with exhaustion.

But when he lifted his head and saw her—actually her—sitting on his bed, legs tucked underneath her, looking like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen—every single complaint disappeared from his mind.

He froze in the doorway.

“Babe?”

Y/N grinned, leaning back against the pillows. “Hey, Jamie.”

His eyes raked over her—lingering on the thin straps of her nightdress, the soft fabric clinging to her skin. He blinked slowly. “Am I hallucinating?”

She tilted her head. “I don’t know. Did Roy run you into the ground?”

“Yes. But—” He shook his head like he was clearing it. “No, this is real. You’re real.”

Y/N bit her lip, nodding. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Jamie inhaled sharply, taking a slow step forward, then another. “Babe. You can’t just—fuck—you can’t just show up lookin’ like that.”

She smirked. “Like what?”

“Like—” His hands gestured wildly. “Like that.”

“I mean, it is my sleepwear.”

Jamie let out a strangled noise. “Babe, be fucking serious. That’s straight up lingerie.”

She laughed, and God, he had missed that sound.

He was in front of her in seconds, dropping onto the bed, immediately pulling her into his arms, his face buried against her shoulder.

“Pretty girl,” he sighed dramatically, immediately cuddling into her space, arms winding around her waist. “Missed you so much.”

Her fingers tangled in his hair. “I know.” Y/N laughed softly, letting him press his face against her shoulder. “You smell terrible.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “Been sufferin’. Roy had me doin’ sprints while he sat there and ate a protein bar. It was psychological warfare.”

She ran a hand over his damp hair, trying to fight a smile. “Poor baby.”

Jamie lifted his head, his eyes dark and hazy, still dazed from exhaustion. “You know how many times I texted you?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“Roy kept yellin’ at me for checkin’ my phone. Didn’t even care. Kept checkin’ anyway.”

Y/N smoothed her hand over his jaw. “I missed you too, Jamie.”

His lips brushed against her shoulder, trailing upward. “You should’ve been there, takin’ care of me and yelling at Roy.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Taking care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, fingers trailing along her waist lazily. “Like, y’know, run me a bath. Massage my legs. Kiss me better.” His grin turned cheeky

“I am here now.” She snorted.

Jamie sighed happily. “Yeah, but I wasted hours when I could’ve been doin’ this.”

She raised an eyebrow. “This?”

Jamie hummed, dragging her closer. “This,” he confirmed, kissing her softly, slowly, like he was making up for lost time.

She melted against him, letting herself sink into his warmth, the feeling of his lips, the way his hands mapped out her back.

Jamie pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his fingers tracing the thin straps of her dress.

“You know,” he murmured, “I’d be sayin’ all sorts of things right now—if I wasn’t so fuckin’ tired.”

Y/N smirked. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sighed dramatically. “Worst fuckin’ timing. Honestly, Roy should be arrested.”

She laughed, her fingers smoothing over his tired muscles. “It's a pity, really.”

Jamie groaned. “Need you to take care of me. Ok how about I lay down and you do whatever you want to me.”

“You’re literally about to pass out.” Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “How about we start with sleep?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but pulled him onto his pillow and under the blanket. He collapsed onto it with a satisfied groan, dragging her down the blanket with him and nuzzling against her immediately.

Jamie hummed. “If I go to sleep, will you stay with me?”

She kissed his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. Didn't even book another room. I have to bunk with you, pretty boy.”

“Best night ever,” he mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder.

She smiled, running her fingers through his hair as he melted against her.

“Go to sleep, Jamie.”

His breath was already slowing, his body heavy and warm against hers.

Jamie sighed, utterly content, already half-asleep as he mumbled, “Love you, babe.”

Y/N smiled against him.

“Love you too, Jamie.”

[emmyrosee]

Can you do kenma fluff please???? Dying to read kenma fluff. Thank you if you do itttt.

“I'm back, chat. Just was talking to the better half.”

Kenma brags about you to his fan base all the time. It doesn’t matter what game he’s playing or what videos he’s watching, somehow and someway you always come up in conversation, be it naturally or just because he likes to yap about you.

His fanbase poke fun at him for his blatant adoration for you, but the way they clip those moments from his stream tell him that most of his fans are more than okay with the constant discussion of your presence.

Hell, if they weren't, he still wouldn't care.

"'What were we talking about?'" He reads from one of the chat messages, "uh, they asked me if I wanted McDonalds, then they pinned me to the fridge and we made out passionately- best part of that story is you'll never know if I'm lying or not."

xxxbannedxxx chat 50 gifted subs hes lying

ieatmen better half is cooler than you kodzuken

""Better half is cooler than me,' shit you're right."

In the monitor, Kenma sees the door of his recording room open and your presence lightens up the entire space. Kenma's shoulders relax, his face curls into a smile, and he lets his eyes close as you approach and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Hey stink,” you purr, and there’s a smile that eases over his cheeks like butter. “You never told me if you actually wanted food or not.”

“Sorry, baby,” he says, turning his head to look at you as you lean on top of the chair. “Uhm… get me a 10 piece and a lemonade, please.”

“You got it, babe,” you hum.

His head jerks back as you cup his jaw and pull him back, pressing a kiss to his lips. He lets his neck go limp, allowing you to move him and relish in your affection, only feeling a surge of pride flow through him as you show your romance off.

iwannadance dads in love

baconbiteater ew

ilikefeet 18+ content banned on twitch

Thank you kuroosassscheeks for the 5 gifted subs kenma i bet ur lips are chapped

"Choke, Kuroo," Kenma teases, but there's a snicker in his words as you giggle against his lips, pressing one final peck before pulling back, snickering as he whines at your departure.

You ruffle his hair and he bats your hands away, "gonna go grab the food, keep an ear out for our rabid animals."

"Sounds good, babe," he hums, watching you leave his space with a soft "I love you." He licks his lips before turning back to chat, which has exploded with orange hearts- a common emoji associated with you. "Sorry guy, I'm a simp, had to indulge for a minute. Where were we?"

notemmyrosee we know ken

hiddensecrettreasure we know kodzuken

lasagnalover we know kozume

kuroosassscheek we know kenma