#then being tested DIRECTLY after and being expected to pass

[camaro-hargrove]

It happens a few weeks after the fight at the Byers.

Billy’s been on his best behaviour, hasn’t even spoken a word to Max or even looked at her little friends. He does everything that’s expected and more of him at home. But apparently that isn’t enough.

He knows Max hates him, everyone can tell. You’d need to be deaf and blind to not know and even then you’d be able to sense the tension between the two. So yes, Max hates him but he didn’t know she hated him this much.

Dinner at the Hargrove Mayfield house is always tense, Billy keeps his head down and finishes everything on his plate after being the last to be served. Says ‘no thank you, Susan’ when offered leftovers because he is not allowed to eat more than what he’s given. He answers when spoken to, never asks if someone could pass something to him. It’s a quiet ordeal most of the time.

“Billy was supposed to take me to the arcade today but he didn’t," Max says, stabbing a piece of potato with her fork.

“Is that true, Billy?” Neil asks, his gaze feeling like a loaded gun. Billy always has to sit directly across from Neil, always in perfect view to make sure he doesn’t misbehave.

“No, Sir,” Billy replies. He knows there’s no point in lying but it’s going to end the same either way. “I didn’t know Max wanted to go today”

“Yes, I told you this morning” Max is glaring at him from next to him. “Several times”

Billy pauses and fuck, she did mention it except he was distracted this morning because of a maths test he had to take in first period.

“She did mention it,” Billy says slowly. “I was just distracted this morning, I had a test”

“That’s not very kind of you” Neil takes a bite of chicken, chews thoroughly before continuing “Sounds like Max was excited to go”

“I was” Max pipes up “El was going to be there, you know, El? My only friend who’s a girl?”

Billy knows she only brought up El because Neil and Susan hate that she’s a tomboy and hate that she’s friends with boys. That they’d be even more lenient with her for being friends with an actual girl.

“So, Max was forced to not spend time with her friend because you were too distracted to pay attention to her?” Neil has a way of warping words into swords and viciously attacking him with them.

“Yes, Sir” Billy replies on autopilot because what else is he supposed to say? Anything he says will be twisted and used against him either now or in the future.

Neil dabs at his mouth with a napkin and stands up. Billy, frozen in his seat, doesn’t dare look away from his plate as Neil comes to stand behind him. He’s expecting a slap on the back of the head, maybe a hand on his shoulder pulling him up from the seat but instead he feels his dad’s hand in his hair and suddenly his face is full of pain.

He thinks Max screams and wonders why the fuck is she screaming. He gasps and chokes on blood that’s sliding down the back of his throat and brings his hands up to his nose, taking deep shuddery breaths when his fingers brush alongside it.

“My nose!” Billy manages to get out, still in a state of disbelief. There’s blood in his unfinished dinner.

Neil doesn’t say anything, just grabs Billy by the upper arm. Billy braces himself for more abuse but instead he’s led over to the front door and out to the truck. He doesn’t have any shoes on or a jacket and he’s cold. Neil has shoes and a jacket on.

They drive in silence to the hospital, Billy not daring to let out a groan of pain when his head moves along with the bumps in the road. Neil doesn’t turn his head to look at him once but he does catch his eye in the rearview mirror and Billy sees a warning.

The hospital is quiet on a Wednesday evening. There’s a woman coughing into her elbow and a man and a woman sitting with their arms crossed near the entrance. They walk over to the receptionist and she looks up in alarm at all the blood spread around Billy’s face.

“Oh my” she starts

“It’s broken,” Neil interrupts her. “Broke it playing basketball, boy wasn’t paying any attention”

“Yeah” Billy knows better than to tell the truth. He’d made that mistake before and he’s still here.

They clean up his nose and Billy bites his tongue so he doesn’t make loud noises. It’s crooked and they give Billy something to squeeze as they quickly snap it back into place. He does yell then, receiving a glare from his dad but he doesn’t care at that point. They clean up the blood once again that had been dislodged in the relocation and then place a thick wad of gauze from the tip of his nose to his forehead. He closes his eyes and grimaces as they stick it down with a beige bandage, one going across the bottom of his nose and onto his cheeks and the other across his forehead. It’s humiliating and Neil knows it.

The humiliation is an added part of the punishment.

He’s given a prescription for painkillers that will never get filled and they’re driving home. No comments had been made about his lack of footwear.

Max is still awake when he gets home. Looks at him with pity and he tries to glare at her and fails miserably. He walks past her and straight to the bathroom where he looks at himself in the mirror. There’s bruising around his eyes and on the gaps where the gauze isn’t.

Max is standing outside the bathroom, looking like she wants to talk to him but Billy doesn’t want to even look at her right now so he shoves past her and goes to his room. He carefully takes his tee shirt off, stretching the collar so it won’t brush against his nose and then he lies in his bed. He sleeps on his back so the bruises have no contact with his pillow and tries to sleep through the pain.

The next morning, he wakes up and gets dressed before facing the music that is breakfast. Susan is placing a cup of coffee in front of his father who says nothing. He folds it when Billy enters the room and looks at him.

“Max wants to go to school early today” he says calmly “You don’t have time for breakfast today”

“Yes, Sir” he says once again. Voice distorted from the way his nose is blocked and pulled. Max looks up from her bowl of cereal with an expression that this is the first she’s hearing about wanting to go to school early. “I’ll warm up the car”

He grabs his messenger bag from his room and the car keys from the bowl next to the front door and sits in the driver's seat. He pulls down the sun visor and tilts his head to get a better look at what he’s going to be dealing with today. The bruising is way more prominent today, dark under his eyes and purple in colour towards the edges. There’s a bit of dried blood and he grabs a tissue and dampens it with some spit to try and get it off. He hisses at the contact but grits his teeth and keeps going.

Max opens the door to the passenger seat and slides in quietly. Billy pulls out of the driveway and they drive silently to school, not even bothering putting a cassette in to listen to.

“I’m sorry” Max says quietly “I didn’t think he’d do that”

“Bet you’ll think twice now, won’t you” Billy doesn’t look at her. Keeps his eyes on the baron roads in front of him.

“I thought he’d ground you or something, not break your nose” She replies looking over at him. “I didn’t know he was that bad”

“Well, congratulations” Billy says dryly “You’re old enough to experience the real world now”

[domesticated-whores]

haven't felt this stupid since i almost didn't graduate high school <3

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer’s Three Lessons of Touch

・❥ You don’t like to be touched—even handshakes get you sweaty, but can the charming ruler of Hell change that?

x: reader is g/n. no use of y/n.

xx: wowowoow my first inbox request!! i honestly never thought i would do one but i finally had the motivation to write a situation like this so… enjoy!

The first time you met Lucifer, you flinched.

It wasn’t subtle, either. You physically recoiled, reeling back as if. You could still recall the shock in his crimson eyes, then the slight tilt of his head as he regarded you in front of all your friends at the hotel.

“Oh?” he had murmured, withdrawing his hand just before it could make contact with your shoulder. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. “Ah, I see. The rumors have gotten to you, haven’t they? Terrified I’ll smite you where you stand?”

Lucifer’s tone was teasing, but there was a curiosity beneath it, as if he was waiting to see if you’d confirm his suspicion.

Your stomach had twisted at the attention. You’d only been working at the Hazbin Hotel’s front desk for a few weeks, trying to keep your head down and do your job. 

When Charlie had offered you a position, promising you a place that felt safe, you hadn’t expected him—Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell himself—to be so… present.

And touchy.

Lucifer was all casual affection, all warmth and charm wrapped up in a devilishly well-dressed package. A hand at Charlie’s back, a ruffle of Vaggie’s hair, a deliberate jab to Alastor’s side when he stood in the King’s path. He was the kind of person who made contact as naturally as breathing.

Which, unfortunately, didn’t mix well with you.

You weren’t sure why you told him. Maybe it was the way he had pulled back so easily, so quickly, without a hint of offense. Maybe it was because of the curious way he watched you afterward, instead of the disgust or cruel judgment like you would have expected for the ruler of Hell.

“I don’t like being touched,” you had admitted, your fingers curling against the desk. “It’s not—it’s not you, I just—”

Lucifer had held up a hand, stopping you with a disarming smile. “Say no more, darling.” 

And he hadn’t pushed. Not once.

At first, you thought he’d forget, like he did everything. But Lucifer never forgot.

When he spoke to you, he kept an extra bit of space between you. When he passed you one of his famous, hand made rubber duckies, he set it on the desk rather than handing it directly to you. 

Even when he cracked a joke or leaned in conspiratorially, it was always within a distance you could handle.

And then, slowly, softly, after a few months of casual flirtation and shared laughter over pancakes, Lucifer started testing the waters.

The first time, it had been your hand. A particularly stressful morning had left you rubbing at your temples, exhaustion laying heavy in your bones. 

Lucifer had approached the desk, a steaming cup of invigorating tea in hand, and instead of setting it down, he very deliberately extended it toward you.

You hesitated.

“It’s not cursed,” he teased, wiggling the cup.

You huffed, but took it from him—fingers brushing, just barely, against his own. The contact lasted less than a second, but Lucifer’s grin was bright.

After that, it was gradual. The lightest press of his shoulder beside you when he leaned in to peek at your paperwork. A casual touch to your sleeve when he needed your attention. 

Never too much. Never too soon.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but one day, you realized you didn’t flinch anymore.

And then, one quiet evening in the lobby, it happened.

You had been reading, curled up in one of the oversized lounge chairs near the front desk, when Lucifer sauntered in. 

“Hard at work I see,” he mused, sliding his gaze across the empty lobby. “I’m sure everyone is aware the weight of the hotel rests on your shoulders.”

You glanced up from your book with a raised brow, already catching the glint of amusement in his unnatural eyes. “It’s my break.”

“That’s perfect!” He slid onto the cushion beside you. “Then you won’t mind me indulging for a moment.”

Then, slowly, he extended a hand. Open, palm-up, resting on the cushion between you.

An invitation. Nothing more.

Your heart hammered, but… you didn’t move away. 

Instead, cautiously, you let your fingers drift toward his. The moment your fingertips brushed his palm, Lucifer’s expression softened, his own fingers closing just enough to lightly hold yours.

“See?” he murmured, warmth seeping from his touch. “Not so bad, is it?”

You exhaled, and slowly your shoulders sank, and the tension coiled beneath your skin slowly dissipated. His hand was warm—steady, safe. Something you hadn’t felt since before arriving to this dark place.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to pull away.

Lucifer didn’t move either, didn’t tighten his grip or trace circles against your skin—he simply let you be, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Not so bad,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer’s lips curled into something softer than his usual knowing smirk. A smile, real and warm, one that made the space between you feel smaller in a way that wasn’t suffocating, but comforting.

“I’m rather delightful to touch, you know.” Lucifer winked, tilting his black wrists closer to view. “Silky smooth, soft as sin, practically a luxury experience.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh. Of course he’d find a way to make it about himself.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he murmured, his thumb shifting just slightly against your fingers—a feather-light stroke, so brief and careful you barely noticed until it was already gone, “you’re still holding my hand.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t retreat. You could have. Lucifer would have let you. Instead, you turned your hand just a little, aligning your fingers with his.

His thumb ghosted against your knuckles, so light it was more suggestion than touch. Testing. Waiting.

Your heart skipped.

Lucifer didn’t push. He didn’t coax. He simply let you choose.

So you did.

You shifted closer, just slightly, your fingers curling tentatively around his. His expression didn’t change—still soft, still patient—but you swore his grip grew just the slightest bit firmer, just enough to make sure you knew he was there.

A long, quiet moment passed.

“I’ve been thinking…” he finally said, that playful grin twitching back onto his angelic features, “Charlie is going to be very jealous when she finds out I was your first.”

You blinked. “First…?”

“Holding hands, of course.” His smirk widened. “I’m not the only one in the family who’s fond of close contact. Unless dear Charlotte has already had the honor?”

You groaned, nudging his leg with your foot. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“What can I say?” He sighed, dramatically wistful. “I am the Sin of Pride, can’t I indulge in some while I celebrate this tender victory?”

Your lips twitched. He was incorrigible.

But… he had been patient. Gentle. Kind.

You squeezed his hand—just barely, just enough for him to know.

Lucifer stilled for half a second before his thumb traced another light, careful line along your knuckles. A silent thank you.

And, for once, the space between you didn’t feel so wide.

That night hadn’t been the end of Lucifer’s brazen acts, either. 

If anything, it only emboldened him.

The brushes of his fingers became more frequent, the space between you ever-shrinking. A light touch at your elbow when he guided you through a crowded hall, the playful flick of a stray strand of hair when he teased you. Never too much, never unwelcome—but always there. Always him.

And then, one night, he caught you. Quite literally.

The explosion had been unexpected. A misplaced spell—Alastor’s, or maybe even Charlie’s—had sent a shockwave through the lobby, shaking the walls and rattling the grand chandelier overhead. 

You had been moving toward the front desk when it happened, but the force of the blast sent you stumbling back.

Your arms flailed, your body crashed toward the floor. Everything was moving too fast, there was no time to break the fall.

And then—Lucifer appeared at the corner of your vision.

One second, you were falling, and the next, his arms were around you. Not just bracing you—catching you.

The world tilted, a blur of motion and heat, and suddenly, you were against his chest, the scent of him—apple cider and something dark, like aged wine—filling your senses.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

His grip was like steel, an arm locked around your waist, the other bracing your back. Your hands had instinctively grasped at his coat, clutching the fine fabric between your fingers. 

And still, he didn’t let go.

“You know,” Lucifer hummed, a teasing lilt as his lips quirked upward, “for someone who claims to avoid my touch, you do seem rather comfortable in my arms.”

You scoffed, tilting your head up to glare at him—a mistake.

His pretty, i’m-so-charming-it-hurts face was close. Too close.

The smirk of Lucifer’s widened when your cheeks flushed with warmth—like he could practically feel the heat radiating between you—but there was something else beneath it, something softer in the way his crimson eyes lingered on your face.

Your breath caught.

Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly at your waist, his thumb brushing—just barely—against your ribs in a way that sent heat prickling up your spine. 

It wasn’t teasing, not entirely.

There was something else there, something unspoken in the way his grip never softened. 

His usual arrogance had quieted, his smirk tempered by something deeper, something almost hesitant.

Like the King of Hell was savoring the quiet, intimate moment. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“I could let go,” he offered, though his grip didn’t loosen.

You swallowed, pulse thundering. “Then why haven’t you?”

A slow grin. “You haven’t asked me to.”

The worst part?

You didn’t want to, especially when you looked up at Lucifer’s carefully guarded expression. 

As if he was waiting for you to pull away—half-expecting it, maybe. Half-dreading it.

But you didn’t. Your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of his coat.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, the words barely more than breath.

Lucifer’s lips twitched, but the usual smirk didn’t come. Instead, his thumb brushed absently against your side—a touch so light, so fleeting, that you might have imagined it.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, so quiet you had to crane to hear. “This is a rather…captivating angle.”

And your heart skipped three beats.

Lucifer always knew how to make things seem like a game.

It was easier that way, wasn’t it? If he made it into a joke, if he grinned just so, if he teased enough to make you roll your eyes and huff at him, then it was nothing more than harmless fun. It was just another of his indulgent amusements, just another way to pass the time.

But then there were moments like these.

Moments where he didn’t hide behind a smirk.

Moments where he was patient. Where he was watching. Where you realized, belatedly, that it had never been a game to begin with.

“…I don’t want to be bad at it,” you admitted, hating how small your voice sounded as you sat across from him. 

You were painfully aware of how small the space was between the two of you, sitting on one of the lounges in the dead of night—when everyone was to be asleep, you desperately hoped. 

Lucifer’s expression softened—not in pity, never in pity, but something else. Something like understanding, which was an emotion others did not grant you so easily when it came to your adversity to physical interaction.

“There’s no such thing,” he shook his head confidently, tilting it just slightly. “It’s not a skill that needs to be perfected, I assure you. It’s just something to be shared.”

You swallowed. “Easy for you to say.”

His lips quirked. “Oh? Do you think I was born knowing how to kiss?”

The thought made you huff. “You might as well have been. Weren’t you created to be the most beautiful angel in Heaven? Surely that was one of the reasons.”

Lucifer chuckled, his thumb brushing idly against the back of your hand. 

“No,” he murmured, “I had to learn too.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “From who?”

His grin widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You groaned, smacking his arm lightly, and he laughed. But then, after a moment, he let the mirth fade, his voice softening once more.

“I learned the same way I’m offering to teach you now.” His fingers tightened slightly around yours. “With patience. With trust.”

You hesitated, heart beating a little too fast. “And if I do it wrong?”

“There is no wrong.” He lifted his free hand, cupping your jaw gently. “There’s only what you like and what you don’t. And we can stop the moment you want to, understand?”

You nodded.

He smiled. “Then come here.”

You sucked in a quiet breath, then shifted closer, tilting your face up toward his.

Lucifer didn’t rush. He let you take your time, let you hover just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. 

Then, when you finally worked up the nerve to bridge that last inch without shivering at what was to come, he met you there.

The kiss was light at first, just a simple press, the barest brush of lips against lips. He let you test the feeling, let you adjust, let you decide.

And when you, ever so tentatively, kissed him again, he smiled against your mouth.

“See?” he murmured, sweet breath fanning your lips. “You’re already quite good at it.”

You weren’t sure if that was true.

But when he kissed you again—slower, deeper, his fingers cradling your face like something precious—you found that, for once, you didn’t really care.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the quiet, careful press of lips and the soft sighs exchanged between you. But then—

A noise. A clatter, followed by a small gasp.

You broke apart instantly, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned toward the kitchen doors across the lobby. 

And there, standing in the dim light of the hall, barefoot in her pajamas with a bowl of something precariously balanced in her hands, was Charlie.

She blinked, her eyes going comically wide. Your lips parted, and you sputtered on air, desperately searching for something—anything—to use as an excuse. 

‘Sorry, Charlie! Your dad was just checking for something in my teeth!…Rather closely…’ you thought of blurting.

Lucifer didn’t look surprised, but he definitely looked as if he had been caught red-handed with the sheepish smile growing across his face.

Sweat beaded on your brow, your eyes flicked from Lucifer to Charlie’s shocked expression, and when you finally got the courage, you—

“Yes!”

Charlie fist-pumped the air, and you gawked. What?

The princess practically vibrated in place, clutching her bowl of whatever midnight snack she’d been after. “I knew it! I knew something was going on! Oh my gosh, does this mean you’re together now? Or—wait—was that your first kiss?!”

Your soul nearly left your body (again). “Charlie—”

She gasped dramatically, bouncing on her heels. “It was! Oh, this is so much better than popcorn!”

Lucifer chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much with his chest swelling at the attention, while you were debating if it was possible to melt into the furniture and disappear entirely.

Charlie grinned at your flustered expression before finally stilling with a grin. “Okay, okay, I’ll go—but this is officially my new favorite thing.” 

She spun on her heel, heading for the hallway, but not before shooting you both finger guns. “Carry on, lovebirds!”

And with that, she was gone, leaving behind only the sound of your mortification.

You slumped back into the couch, groaning into your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Lucifer, far too pleased, slowly lifted your hand to his lips, then placed a tender kiss on your knuckle. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

You sighed, the fight leaving you as you let your hand rest in his. “No… never with you.”

Lucifer smirked before he leaned in closer, and your breath hitched. “Good, because this time won't be the last.”

Hell… you hoped he was right.

hi!!! how have you all been doing? i’ve missed you guys!! this was a sweet idea to play around with, and i hope i’ve still got a feel for luci’s characterization while i’ve been away 🫶

let me know your thoughts :)

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @wings-of-sapphire @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco @ivebeenthearchersstuff @indestructeible @otherthoughtsofbu @anonymousewrites @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru

[lilianne-tarot]

How the Universe Has Its Way of Guiding You, and That's Okay

TW: LONG POST

I have always trusted in the universe's plan in every step of my life. When things took an ugly turn for me, when I failed at things I thought I was the best at, when I couldn’t get the things I was desperate for, I questioned the universe, "Whyyy mee?" but We, as humans, tend to run after things that feel out of our reach. A lot of us chase things, even the wrong things sometimes. But the reality is universe gives us what we need, not what we want, and that’s the difference. We often realize this too late in our journey.

A very cliché quote, "Every rejection is a redirection," is what I live by. Another famous quote from a writer says, "If things go according to your wishes, that's good. But if they go according to God's will, that's even better because it is happening the way He wants, and God will never wish anything bad for you." My mom taught me this very early in life and I reminded it to myself every time I hit rock bottom.

I have always been very intuitively blessed, and even when things were about to take a turn for me, I could feel it coming. A perfect example of how the universe gives signals in the most unexpected ways happened 2 months ago ago. I was in an awful situation, really fighting for something, feeling desperate, so I resorted to my love, my tarot cards, for guidance. As I pulled the cards, I did it multiple times because our energy really affects the cards we draw, and I was confused and anxious. But one thing kept happening: the World card kept appearing in my readings, whether through jumper cards, as a shadow card, or just somehow showing up every time.

Even though I know the meanings of my cards well, being human, I needed reassurance. So, I searched through my books, and internet, found the meaning, but left it there and went on with my day. Later that day, I randomly opened this app and saw a post explaining, "What does it mean when the World card shows up multiple times in a reading?" The moment I read that post, I had the biggest breakdown. It was like the universe was speaking directly to me, showing me how miraculously and unexpectedly it sends signals. And last week I passed the test successfully. I am finally eligible for the course I badly wanted to attend. Ultimately, the universe wasn’t lying that day. I was grinning ear to ear when I saw my results. The power the universe holds is beyond our contemplation.

The way I write my readings, I heavily credit my loneliness and ADHD for it. Funny, isn’t it? Personally, even though I have always had really supportive friends, I never had someone I could connect with on a soul level and share my deepest thoughts with. So, I resorted to journaling and talking to myself. I used to take night walks just to let out all of my thoughts to my invisible friend who would never judge me.

Two years ago, I got really serious about my tarot hobby when I was super burdened with my studies and other stuff. I started asking questions about myself and writing my own interpretations in my diary, the way I wished someone would tell me those things. I would reread them later, and that became my little comfort, even if I exaggerated things there but it gave me the happiness I was looking for at that time. Over time, my style evolved. I got better at reading the cards, better at articulating my thoughts, and when I started doing readings for others, I saw the impact it had. When people told me, "This made my heart warm," or "This gave me so much clarity," I felt so proud to be able to do that for others.

One fine day, I stumbled upon this community, completely out of the blue. The funny part is I didn’t even expect this app to have a tarot community, LOL. But when I found it, I binge-read so many posts here. And then an idea struck me: "What if I share my own readings here?" So, I made my blog. Unexpectedly, I received so much love, more than I ever imagined. It might sound like an exaggeration, but I truly feel like I found my soul family here.

None of this was planned. And that’s exactly how the universe works. It guides us in ways we don’t always see at first. Sometimes, we’re too focused on what we think we want that we don’t recognize what we truly need. But the universe has its way of showing us, through signs, through redirections, through moments of clarity that hit us unexpectedly. And when we finally look back, we realize that everything was aligning perfectly all along.

i hope i was able to bring some reassurance and comfort to anyone who might be going thorough a rough time and looking for a signal from the universe. 💗

With love, Lilianne.

Masterlist ⭑ Paid services ⭑ Ko-Fi

[xoln04f1xo]

An alternate F1 world where vampires secretly rule the grid. Some humans work for the teams, unaware of the true nature of their employers... until you arrive.

Pairings: Vampire!Lando x Human!Reader

Warnings: mild blood references, implied biting/claiming, vampires, tension, slightly protective lando, fangs

WC: 0.8k

Divider Credit: @bleedingspiral

The sun was setting when he looked at you.

Not the kind of casual glance you’d expect from someone just getting out of the car after practice. No - Lando looked at you like he’d been expecting you, like he already knew where you’d be standing. His visor was up, brown curls damp against his forehead, jaw tight. His eyes were... wrong in the light. Too bright. Amber where they should’ve been brown. You blinked first. He didn’t look away.

You weren’t supposed to be here this late. Just a media assistant. Just here for a few races before they sent you somewhere else.

And yet here you were, watching a vampire - because you were starting to believe that’s exactly what he was - stalk toward the McLaren garage like night itself had called him home.

By midnight, qualifying was over.

The paddock shimmered under floodlights, echoing with the soft hum of equipment being packed down. Drivers passed through the mixed zone with fake sweat and too-white teeth. But Lando? Lando was different. Lando didn’t pretend to be tired.

He didn’t play up to the cameras or flirt with journalists. He just stood there, still as stone, answering every question with a low voice and a look that made your breath catch in your throat.

You were behind the cameras, pretending to take notes. But mostly you were watching him. Watching the way the light slid over his skin, the way his pupils barely moved when the flash of a phone went off too close.

And then - in the middle of answering a question about tyre degradation - Lando turned his head. And looked directly at you.

Your heart stopped.

Like actually stopped.

(He smiled, just a little. Like he knew.)

“Be careful,” Oscar said later that night. You found him outside the McLaren hospitality unit, leaning against a wall like he was waiting for you.

“Of what?” you asked.

“Not what,” he said. “Who.”

You blinked. Oscar smiled - soft, but sad.

“Lando stares at you like he’s trying to remember something. That never ends well.”

Then he was gone.

(And your phone buzzed with a new message. Unknown number. Two words.)

come outside.

He was waiting by the motorhome, hands in his hoodie pockets, shadow wrapped around him like he belonged in it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lando said. But he didn’t sound like he meant it. In fact, he sounded almost amused.

“I could say the same to you,” you answered.

He smirked. “You want to see the real paddock?”

You shouldn’t have said yes.

You did anyway.

There’s something beneath the Bahrain circuit. Something ancient.

You followed him through tunnels most people didn’t even know existed. Doors opened with words that didn’t belong to any language you knew. The further you went, the colder it got.

And then you saw it.

The underground paddock.

Not for cameras. Not for sponsors. Not for humans.

This place wasn’t about racing. This was about power. Territory. Legacy.

You saw Max and Charles arguing in French over something that didn’t sound like tyre strategy. You saw Lewis, dressed in midnight robes, drinking something dark from a cut crystal glass. You saw Esteban and Pierre standing too still, eyes too sharp. Like predators watching prey that hadn’t realized it yet.

You felt like you’d wandered into a painting that shouldn’t be touched.

And Lando?

Lando never let you out of his sight.

He took you up to a balcony carved into stone. Below you, the track glowed under lights. You could hear a single engine running test laps, a ghost car slicing through the silence.

Lando stood beside you, close enough to feel.

“Speed helps,” he murmured. “It distracts from the hunger.”

You turned your head. He wasn’t smiling. His eyes glowed gold in the dark.

“What are you really?” you asked.

He looked at you like you’d just given him a gift.

“Someone who used to be human,” he said. “A long time ago.”

You swallowed. “Do you miss it?”

His answer was too quiet to catch.

That’s when he saw the marks on your neck.

Two small bruises. You’d noticed them this morning but convinced yourself they were bug bites. Or a trick of the mirror.

“They tried to mark you,” Lando said. His voice was flat, but underneath it... rage.

“Who?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “But I will.”

His fingers almost touched your skin. Almost.

“No one claims what I’ve already taken,” he said.

Your breath caught.

“Taken?” you echoed.

He leaned in, close enough that you could see the fangs before he hid them again.

“You stepped into my world,” he whispered. “You’re mine now.”

(And god help you, you didn’t want to run.)

Later, when he led you back to the surface, neither of you said much.

He stopped just before you left the tunnel.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “don’t let anyone walk you back alone. Especially not Charles.”

You nodded.

He hesitated.

“Sleep well, sun-girl.”

And then he disappeared into the dark.

That night, you dreamed of fangs and fire. Of race tracks that looped endlessly through bloodstained sand.

And when you woke up, your phone buzzed with a new message.

see you tonight. - L

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[verus-veritas]

Taking Down the Jocks

Reworked Interactive Story from CYOC

Part 1: The Set-Up

You were kicking a stone along the footpath, walking after it, and kicking it again when you reached it. It was Thursday afternoon and you were walking back to the dorms after some classes. You, being the relatively unpopular, unassuming, and unattractive nobody. Not that you were actively disliked, just that nobody really paid attention to you, apart from the football jocks at the campus. They loved to make fun of anybody that wasn't in their group, and that was often directed at you. Even though you often tried to avoid them and disliked them for being a clique, you secretly thought most of them were hot.

You kicked the rock again and it bounced off the footpath into a muddy patch that was a consequence of all the recent rain your town had been having. As you passed the mud, you looked down at the rock and noticed a spot of brightness in the brown, a speck of gold. Leaning down to see if it was anything interesting, or just a candy wrapper, you saw it was a small band of gold that was half buried under the dirt. Pulling it out of the mud, you found it was a gold ring, adorned with a circle of a green raw cut gem, or crystal. Rubbing off the mud, you put it on to see if it would fit, and it surprisingly slipped onto your finger with ease. 

A gust of wind blew through the leaves on the trees around you, and the world went dark, the footpath, trees and road all disappearing from your sight. You were about to shit your pants in fear when you heard a voice whisper behind you.

"At the dawn of the universe, 5 gods emerged from the light of the galaxy's formation, and they ruled over the Earth for millions of years, each using their individual and unique powers for the betterment of the Earth."

You turned around in the darkness, but nobody was there. You reached a hand out and grasped at only air. The voice continued, now coming from directly in front of you.

"But 3000 years ago they gradually lost their powers, withering away. Before they eventually died, they all agreed to put the last of their life energy and powers into a stone, and laid the magical stone into a ring. The ring has been found and worn by many hands, but none survived longer than 13 days after they found the ring, betrayed by their own greed.”

And now you have the ring. The possessor of the ring has the ability to harness the powers of the Ancient Gods, and are able to bend reality to their will.

With that last sentence left to linger in the cold air, the light returned and the light and warmth of the sun touched your skin again. The Ancient Gods? That couldn't be true. But what other reason could explain the sudden darkness and cold that passed over you, and the voice with no physical body?

You decided the only way to test it was to try and use the ring's powers. You wished to be back at your college dorm with every ounce in your body, and you were suddenly looking into the dorm’s bedroom mirror. You jumped back in surprise though, as the face staring back at you was that of your jock roommate. You soon smiled. He was obnoxious, he was messy, and he left condoms everywhere, but at least he was hot...

Still, slightly shocked at the fact the ring's power worked, you turned around, and attempted to close your roommate’s bedroom door with a flick of your finger. It took a few tries but it slammed shut with much more vigor than you were expecting on the fourth try. Thinking of what else you could do, you tried to float off the ground. After 5 minutes you figured out the trick was to jump with no intention of falling back to the ground.

After practicing a few other tricks while wearing the ring, you decided it was time to explore. You floated over to his bed, layed down and reached into your roommate’s mind with your powers, giving your borrowed body the best orgasm it had ever had, as you squirted your roommate’s seed all over his room. You swiped some of it off your chest and gave it a taste, clearly enjoying the musky and salty flavor of it. With a couple flicks of your hand, the sperm was cleaned off the walls, and you began to jerk him off all over again.

You woke up in the morning with the sun streaming in through your open blinds, and you rolled over to see your unconscious roommate lying on the floor, completely spent and drenched in his own white seed. You got ready for the day, making sure the ring was firmly planted on your finger, and made your way out the front door. You made sure to leave it slightly open so that someone might find your roommate in that humiliating state. 

You realized you needed more practice using the ring’s powers before you could attempt to change anything major, and the long walk through the campus was a great place to mess with people. Apart from there being nobody in sight at the moment. You used your powers to break a few tree branches, and you started to get the hang of it. It was less like having a giant invisible hand like you expected, and more like using your mind and hands to move the air around the branches.

You were already breaking your twentieth branch when you saw a couple of jocks harassing a bunch of nerds next to a dumpster, and you decided to help the nerds out… by giving them all the jocks’ muscles! You concentrated on their muscles, and the strength within them, and slowly transferred it all from the jocks to the nerds. The two groups quickly noticed and looked startled and confused, as the nerds' clothes ripped apart while the jocks screamed in frail horror. You decided the best thing to do was to walk by pretending you didn't notice anything, as you heard the screams of someone being thrown into the dumpster behind you.

You continued forward, looking at the floor, and when you looked back up you saw you were almost there. You couldn't be bothered to walk so with a quick look around to confirm nobody could see you, you teleported in front of the gates, and walked in. On your way to your lecture hall you saw all the obnoxious jocks goofing around and throwing stuff at others, and you couldn't help but take a second look at their muscular bodies and beautiful faces. Arriving at the lecture hall, you thought about what to do next. You still had some time until your first class, and the ring was pulsating with excitement to be used.

You looked around at the crowds and groups that were all standing in the open campus area. Everyone was either conversing with friends, or studying for their first lessons. You looked around and caught sight of the two people who you've had a huge crush on ever since you enrolled here:

Your eyes glanced over at Jack, who was busy rallying a group of jocks into harassing some studying girls. The heartthrob, the narcissist, and of course the leader of the biggest fraternity of jocks. Anything he said goes, and if you fucked with him you’d be left royally screwed. Not only was his family filthy rich, but they also owned half of the college buildings. Which meant he could get away with literally anything, like the time he almost beat to death a guy behind the bleachers or left a cheerleader pregnant. No one ever heard from those people again…

Still, there was no doubt in your mind that he was one fine specimen. Blue eyes, hot face, amazing jawline, and a fucking amazing plump and firm ass. Although he was slightly shorter than most of the other jocks and clearly wasn’t as talented on the fields, he made up for it with his dashing looks and charisma. He also spent most mornings at the gym, and it showed with his broad shoulders, slim waist, extremely defined muscles, great thighs, and great posture. Looks, money, privilege, he had it all… even if he didn’t truly deserve it.

On the other side of the hallway you caught sight of Shawn, followed by an entourage of admiring football jocks and worshiping cheerleaders. He was the so-called “Starchild”, who made miracle plays every game and had a whole career already planned out in the future. Star quarterback, the pride of the college, and childhood friend of Jack, no one ever dared to mess with him. Although he always carried himself with respect and never specifically bullied anyone, he always looked down on anyone weak, worthless, and not worth his attention. Which was basically anyone not part of his group of jock friends. Those deep glaring eyes and imposing aura of his made that very clear.

As for his appearance, Shawn was a complete adonis, as if sculpted by god himself. An incredibly tall and handsome jock with short brown hair and stubble, who stood at 6’3 feet tall and was made of pure solid muscles. Biggest, strongest, and fastest, his body would glisten and shine with pure sweat as he ran across the football fields. With his amazingly broad shoulders, broad hips, great thighs and calves, and stunning biceps, it wasn’t a surprise then that he apparently had the biggest penis on campus, measuring at around 8 inches. The so-called “Star Piercer”.

The bell rang and you made your way through the halls to your courses. You sat and thought about your powers instead of doing the work set for you, and when the professor called on you, you weren't prepared with an answer, and asked to go to the bathroom instead. When you got to the bathroom you closed and locked the door, and looked in the mirror, deeply considering what you could do with your crushes. Your penis was getting excited at the thought of having full control over those sexy jocks, and you took one final look in the mirror as you realized what you truly wanted: 

To BE one of them.

Part 2: Taking down the Star Quarterback

Your thoughts went back to Shawn for a few minutes, thinking of the big muscular jock as he strutted his body through the hallway. His physique alone had caused the rest of the hallway to part when he carried himself by. Between him and Jack, they commanded a sort of subconscious presence, a dominance that caused everyone around them to both notice them, fall into awe of them, and then either get out of their way or do their bidding. Everyone either respected them or were terrified of them. Whereas Jack was the complete asshole and the leader of the jock clique, Shawn was the pride and star of the town, a confident but quiet man who just told people what to do and they listened.

You envied that seeming feel of authority, of dominance. Shawn didn't even realize that he had it, he just worked to be a great athlete, but with his body and with his talent, he had created a much bigger presence at the college than even he realized.

As you stood there in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror, you thought for a moment about possessing Jack, after all, that jock had humiliated you time and time again simply for being a non-jock, an outsider to his clique. While Shawn had never directly bullied you, he was just so damn intimidating that you had never wanted to cross him. But that lust for his presence was making you want to take him. 

"If only I could be him and live his life, just to feel what it's like to be such a dominant and successful jock," you told yourself.

The ring started to warm up on your finger. Looking down at it, you realized that you could use it to will this very wish into being.

"But how?" you asked yourself.

The ring seemed to understand your desire because right as you asked the question the bathroom door opened and Shawn stepped in. You turned your head and your jaw nearly dropped. Shawn turned his broad shoulders toward you and looked back. At first a glance, and then again with annoyance. "What do you want, shithead?" he asked, before stepping into the bathroom and toward a urinal. He walked with his usual, confident swagger toward the urinals, still 10 feet from them, he unzipped his jeans and pushed his hand into his crotch, already feeling to pull his dick out well before he reached the urinal. As he stepped into it, you could tell that he pulled out his monster cock and aimed toward the urinal. A strong splash of piss hit the ceramic.

Shawn shut his eyes, completely ignoring you, and meditated for a moment. You wanted to listen to his thoughts, so you ordered the ring to help you read his mind. Just as you had suspected, he had already forgotten that you were even in the room, he was thinking about his conditioning after school today, and the fact that he wanted to get to benching 300.

You chuckled to yourself for a moment. Of all the things for anyone to think about, all this jock cared about was getting more swole and showing off to the rest of the team.

You looked back down at the ring on your hand. This single artifact, this one find that you had discovered, it was able to give you whatever you wanted. And you were ready to make your first life-changing wish. To become the incredible jock standing a few feet away from you.

The thought of being Shawn was making you excited, so much so that you could feel your dick starting to push hard against your leg and jeans.

"Yes, I made up my mind. I will possess him completely and live his perfect life!" you told through thoughts to the ring, and as you did so, you noticed your hand started to fade and became more ethereal. You started to become more transparent, like a ghost! But no, it was more than that, you were turning into smoke! "Ahh," you told yourself as you directed the smoke of your hand, causing it to flow towards Shawn. "I can just force my way right into his body!"

The urinal flushed. The distraction caused you to form back into your human body once more.

Shawn walked over to the sink next to yours and started to wash his hands. You turned your head again toward him, then down his stocky arms and toward his hands as they scrubbed the soap between them. He carried a hefty amount of thick, brown hair on them. You figured that he was probably a pretty hairy guy underneath his clothes.

"What are you looking at, Fag?!" Shawn retorted to you. Then he took his left hand and shoved you backward. "I asked you a question, you piece of shit!" he shouted before stepping toward you again.

You smirked, Shawn had no idea what he was getting himself into.

When he went to push you once more, you grabbed his left forearm with your left hand. The powers of the ring allowed you to hold his thick physique in your grasp despite the fact that he was so much bigger than you. "What did you call me?" you asked him.

For the first time Shawn started to get worried. His eyes widened as he realized that he wasn't able to free his arm of your grasp, but also that you were able to hold him in place.

With your right hand you reached out and grabbed his cheeks, puckering up his lips. "What the fuck?" he said as he realized that you had him completely in your grasp. You pulled his face toward yours until he was only a couple of inches away. Despite being over 50 pounds bigger than you, he could barely move away from your grip.

"I can’t believe soon I’ll be Shawn, the Starchild." you tell him through a form of thought-speak. His eyes widened in horror. "In a few minutes, you'll be nothing but a husk, and I'll have complete control over your incredible body."

Thinking for a moment, you figured you would try something you had never done before, to give the jock a taste of you before you took over his life. You leaned your lips toward his and gave him a long, deep kiss, massaging your lips against his for a few moments.

Shawn was disgusted with the act but more terrified that you were continuing to hold him into a grip that you were. "Your body and life is mine now, Shawn. Thank you and goodbye, forever." you said.

It was then that you ordered the ring to give you the power to possess him completely and wholly, and as soon as you released your lips, you felt your body turn into the ethereal, smoke-like form once more. Not just your hand this time, but your entire body. You felt the weight of your physical clothes fall to the floor and you could feel yourself in your new form as a type of weightless, flyable cloud, an amorphous cloud of vapor.

You directed yourself into Shawn, covering his rugged face and feeling yourself pulled in as Shawn took a terrified breath.

As you did you felt yourself quickly get swept into the jock's muscular body. You distilled yourself throughout him, feeling yourself flow into his lungs, then his blood, taking over him from the cellular level outward. After he took the first breath you quickly gained control over his lungs and subsequently pulled yourself into him, further and further integrating yourself into his physical body until your entire being became completely integrated into him. You then continued further, deeper, until you found his inner core, his soul. It was warm and pulsating with life, and you quickly decided to envelop it, absorbing it into yourself.

All of your senses quickly fell into line. You took over his vision, hearing, sense of smell and taste, and you could feel his body become your own as his own blood circulated you throughout him. When you finally nestled yourself into his mind you felt yourself adapt to his entire memories, his personality. You became Shawn, the cocky, confident football jock. "Exactly what I always wanted!" you told yourself as you felt his body and mind become your own. Your sense and feeling of strength was amplified tenfold. The body you now held was a tank of power, of endurance, and you could feel the jock's body as one of pure athleticism.

But it was now your own. Truly and completely.

You took one final deep breath as you opened your new eyes. "Ahh! Fuck yea!" you whispered to yourself. Looking back at the mirror, you noticed the jock still looked the same as only a few moments before. "Only this is me now," you told yourself, smirking.

Looking down at the pile of clothes next to you, what were your old clothes, you took out your old student ID and wallet and picked up the pile and threw them into the trash can. You had no need of them anymore. Looking down at your left finger, you realized that the ring automatically moved with you onto Shawn's body. No, your body. You continued to have possession of and own its powers.

You strutted yourself back to the mirror and pulled back Shawn's t-shirt, revealing a massive bicep. Flexing for a few moments, you pulled up the front of the shirt and admired your new six pack, crunching them and rolling your finger between the brown hairs and valleys on the jock's abs. Relishing into the body that you now owned, you pondered what to do next.

"ARGH!" You shout as you give yourself a big stretch. Every pulsing nerve in Shawn's body felt like so much more life than your old body had. The sheer weight of muscle that encapsulated Shawn's body felt like one pulsing piece of pleasure after another. You smiled again, a wide, cocky, arrogant, proud smile as you looked back in the mirror. You bit your lower lip as your glistening white teeth showed through, cracking another smile and admiring the jock's beautiful and handsome face, deep brown eyes, and intensely masculine muscle on this body, now your body that you held.

You knew everything about Shawn, his history, his personality, his skills. You were in control, in complete possession. After all, Shawn's brain along with his talents now belonged to you, so it wasn’t weird for you to be able to perform as him perfectly.

"First thing's first," you told yourself as you lifted up your arms so your biceps were parallel to the floor. Flexing upward, you watched your muscle bulge against the t-shirt, stretching the fibers as they gave outward. Crossing your arms you flexed again, admiring your new forearms with wisps of brown hair covering them. Your chunky, thick hands had fingers of steel, well cut fingernails and thick, calloused palms.

You couldn't help yourself, you had to see what was underneath. Who the fuck cared if someone walked in. You quickly pulled the t-shirt off as you stepped out of your tennis shoes. Dropping the t-shirt your smile widened as you saw your new, broad shoulders and thick pecs. You traced your hand down your abs, rolling the tips of your fingers over the valleys of muscle as you reached your belly button. There, a thick puff of hair concentrated down to your waist underneath your underwear band. You turned to admire your backside where your lats rippled down your back and your thick shoulders were apparent up against your thick neck.

"This is too fuckin much!" you whispered. Checking yourself out, you couldn't help but notice that your dick was hardening with every second.

You had to see it.

You unbuckled your belt and unzipped your jeans before shoving both the jeans and gray boxer briefs down to your ankles. The breeze of air hitting your loins caused your dick to jump. You looked down and chuckled as your newly-acquired dick hardened to full mast. The stock of meat was massive, a pulsing eight inch hard monster. Your balls were equally huge and despite being pulled up into your body they were like huge eggs waiting, begging to be touched.

You quickly stepped out of your pants as you turned back to the mirror, moving between a full frontal and a profile angle, admiring the massive football bubble butt and bulked quads that Shawn's body owned. As you looked at your ass, you slid your hands down your abs once more and cupped your balls, shuddering as a new wave of orgasmic pleasure rippled through you. "Ugh," you whispered. Shawn's balls were churned full and ready to explode. You weren't sure if it was caused by the ring or if Shawn was always like this.

Sitting nearby the radiator in the bathroom laid a couple of freestanding cinder blocks. You lifted each with one hand and practiced curls and then presses with your arms, staring at the mirror and admiring the fine contours of muscle bulge and twist with each move.

Your dick started to leak pre with each press, and you knew you had to give it the attention it deserved. You sat the blocks down and traced your fingers across your dick and balls, feeling them carefully as they cocked into your body and ready to release your new seed.

One hand around your dick and another cupping your balls, you began to pump, each successive thrust brewing a greater and greater orgasmic ripple, a greater wave of pleasure, a greater feeling not only of masculine sex but one of extreme satisfaction, you were now Shawn, you were now the star quarterback, you were now everything you had wanted to be and you would live the most successful life ever.

But that wasn't all, as you held what you thought was the most powerful ring of eternity, something that could allow you to literally manifest anything and everything you could imagine. What else would you do with it? Who else would you change, who else would you control and influence and seduce. "Umm," you whispered as all these thoughts swirled in your head, you could feel yourself brewing closer and closer, each pump a greater feeling of pleasure than you had ever felt before.

It was time, you knew it was here. Ready to release, you aimed your dick at the mirror in front of you, "ARAGH!" you shouted, a deep guttural moan of pleasure as your dick cocked and exploded. The first shot hit out with such ferocity that it slapped the largest splash of cum you had ever seen, shooting all the way to the mirror in front of you.

Your body rocked in pleasure as a wave of goosebumps and a spasm of pure delight rocked your body, warm cum rolling out of your dick and like a waterfall spilling a puddle in front of you.

"Ummm, fuck yeah!" you groaned as you continued to pump, More and more and more until, finally, it slowed.

You shook your hand to fling off the spooge that had caught onto your hand. Deep, controlled breaths as you reflected on what was the most powerful orgasm of your new life.

"I can do fuckin' anything!" you realized again, smiling at yourself in the mirror. You stretched and turned again to see your dick fading back to its flaccid but extremely impressive state. “But first, let’s find Jack…”

Part 3: Taking down the Top Jock

You entered the locker room and were immediately hit with the stench of pungent jock musk, a smell both foreign yet familiar to you. A sense of familiarity washed over you as you stood within the metal lockers and cold floor tiles, as if you belonged here, as if it was your second home.

A group of rowdy football jocks stood on the other side of the room, obnoxiously laughing and playing around with the equipment. One of them was kicking the ball against a brick wall with their muscular thighs and calves. You had always fantasized about fucking them, and now you had the power of the Fallen Gods on you finger to do so. Fuck it, you thought, you could literally do whatever you wanted now and nobody could stop you.

You walked over to the locker labeled with your name “Shawn”, and subconsciously entered the code for the lock without any effort. Some old worn sports clothes and a jockstrap laid inside, which you couldn’t help yourself but grab and push it close to your face, giving it a deep long inhale. It smelled just like you, and that was euphoric.

You weren’t sure what to do next though, and it was hard to focus with all the loud jocks yelling and screwing around. If only everyone could stay quiet and calm down, you thought as the ring on your finger began to heat up. Sure enough, the ring heard your request and slowly everyone began to slow down until they completely stopped, as if frozen in time. Even the football floated in midair, halfway through its journey towards the brick wall. You had stopped time for everyone else in the locker room except yourself and now had all the time in the world.

Deciding to inspect the scene in front of you, you walked over to the jocks and smiled. Some of them were halfway through a step, others were bending over in awkward positions, and one of them was slightly suspended in the air with his leg raised into a kick. You got closer to him and were able to see his giant thighs on full display. With a devious smirk on your handsome face, you reached out and touched them, the softness and warmth of the supple skin still there. You continued tracing your hands up his meaty legs until you reached into his shorts and felt his underwear, which contained his sizable bulge. Suddenly you caught sight of your true goal; Jack, standing there by his locker completely undressed.

Jack was the top jock on the campus, with his cocky and arrogant attitude, and lack of care for anything or anyone. With an unlimited resource of money, privileges, and the worst personality ever, it wasn’t hard to understand why everyone was terrified of him. Yet, you couldn’t help but salivate from your mouth as you went over and began exploring every inch of his frozen immaculate body.

He had a classic jock body, with broad shoulders that lead down into a smaller waist, creating a perfect V-shape. His biceps were giant and he had meaty pecs that jutted out from his chest. He had some powerful calves right underneath his firm thighs and plump ass, all dusted with light colored hair. You couldn’t resist putting your hand on his ass, and moved it all over his smooth body, fully feeling every inch of his muscles. You left it to rest on his left pec, and looked over his head. He had such striking features on his face, smooth with perfect complexion, almost innocent-looking had it not been for his privileged background and horrible personality.

That gave you the perfect idea, after you’ve had your fun that is…

You stepped back from Jack and looked at the group of frozen jocks horsing around with the football.

"Holy shit," you tell yourself. You willed this. Every one of these jocks who you had lusted after for years are now completely at your, and only at your, disposal.

A smile crept across your handsome face. You looked around the hall and realized just what had become of you. You were no longer beholden to the rules of mortals. A feeling of superiority washed over your mind as you realized just what the ring has enabled you to become. A fucking god!

As you turned your attention to the ring, you noticed the powers that were embedded within it, and that it was completely attached to your will and want. Its powers simply waiting for your mind to command it to give you whatever you desire, at any time or place. You allowed time to restart as you stepped back towards your own locker, smirking at your newfound abilities. You had spent years jerking off to the thought of these buck naked men, not to mention a lust to touch them. Now you had not only touched two of them, but had one such body of your own!

Your attention turned back to Jack. He had gotten away with so much bad shit ever since his father literally bought the school. Whether it was hooking up with every girl in his sight or bribing the professors into passing him, the success had gotten to his head. He was also known for bullying the smaller guys on campus on multiple occasions. You remembered one time last year when you were sitting outside working on your math homework, only to have Jack's goons hold you down while he stuffed his used jockstrap into your mouth. His crotch musk filled your nose as they laughed at you, not realizing that they had satisfied one of your deepest lusts. Despite your humiliation, you remember exactly what the jock smelled like. And you wanted to capture it again.

"But this time," you told yourself, "it's not me who is going to be humiliated." You had lusted after Jack for the last few years, hoping they would introduce you to his jockstrap once more. Now it's you who would be in control.

The bell rang and the gang of jocks began to split up. "Hey bro, don't forget about the party at Mason’s tonight," another jock shouted to Jack as they bumped fists. "I heard Brie’s sister is gonna be there."

"Damn, really? Guess I’ll be fucking both sisters.” Jack responded, "Just imagine the drama… They gonna be so fuckin' mad! Crazy bitches!"

Jack turned around quickly, too fast for you to dart your eyes away from his own. He gave you a somewhat respectful nod, but briefly frowned before stepping away.

"Did he seriously get bigger since last time, the fucks wrong with him? Asswipe. Probably thinks he can look down on me just because he’s better at throwing a stupid ball…" You could read Jack's mind thinking to himself, as his feelings of jealousy and rage washed over you. You had no idea their relationship was this strained, even though they used to be childhood friends.

"Still, thanks for the compliments…" you thought to yourself as you looked down and flexed your beefy biceps. You loved how much power and potential this body had.

You dove into Jack's mind for a moment while he walked out to his Tesla to unload his sports bag. Quickly, you flipped through his whole life like a book. The jock's talents, abundant fortune, shallow friends, heavy partying and reckless sex life. He lost his virginity years ago and was currently active with four girls that went to the same classes as him. He was currently lusting after a cheerleader named Brie, hoping they could get together tonight at his parent's house since apparently they were out of town. Although now he was debating if maybe he should go for the younger sister first.

You shook your head, not wanting to dwell more on the disgusting things he was planning on doing.

"Now, how do I get this guy alone?" you asked yourself.

The bell rang again, a sign that some classes and seminarss were starting soon. The hallway and locker room began to empty out. A devious idea quickly came into your mind.

"You have time, Jack, don't you need to take a piss?"

Jack grabbed some of his books before feeling the need to use the restroom. He turned and quickly started walking toward the nearest bathroom.

"Don't go there, Jack, you should use the locker room," you commanded telepathically.

Looking back into Jack's mind, you could tell that Jack was confused as to why he felt compelled to go to the football team locker room. Never before had he needed to go to the locker room before just to take a piss. But he obeyed his mind and continued down the hall, through the gym, into the athletic center, and into the men's football locker room.

Jack didn't pay any mind to the fact that you were still standing there inside, being too focused on emptying his own bladder. Before the door shut to the restroom area, you slipped in behind him. Using your new powers, you surveyed that the locker room before and the stalls were all empty, with the football coach in a morning meeting upstairs.

Jack quickly set his stuff to the side and proceeded to a long row of undivided urinals. You imagined yourself now being among that row of football jocks, taking pisses and sizing each other up buck naked. With you no doubt having the largest and girthiest equipment of them all. The very thought made you painfully hard.

Jack unzipped and began to pee. "That's better," he whispered.

You took a step, just loud enough to draw up his attention. Jack turned and saw you staring at him with a slight smile across your face. The first time you've ever been able to be smug to a jock like Jack.

“The fuck?!” Jack jumped a bit, surprised there was someone else in there with him. The interrupted stream of piss resumed once he saw who you were. “Oh, it’s just you. What do you want?”

You decided to take a few more steps towards him, hoping to make him more uncomfortable. He turned again, giving you a long thoughtful glare before a smirk emerged on his devilish handsome face. It seemed Jack wasn’t about to be intimidated by you. “I knew something was wrong with you the way you were staring at me earlier…”

“You’re a fag, aren’t you?” he asked demeaningly with a malicious grin on his face, making sure to put extra emphasis on the "fag". Not that it mattered to you. Not anymore.

Jack tugged his dick then turned to flash it openly to you before zipping it back into his jeans. "Just wait till Coach and the other boys hear of this! The team is only for real men, not for homos like you. You’re done, finished. Hah!"

"Oh Jack," you responded with an amused tone. "I don’t think they’re actually going to care, not that you’ll want to tell them anyway."

Jack tightened his right fist. "Yeah, and why wouldn’t I tell them?" He asked, as he slowly took steps toward you and stared you up. "Now get out of my way or I'm gonna lay one on your eye, and knock you out till the New Year. I’m not afraid of you just because you’re bigger, you motherfucker!"

You smiled as you ordered his legs to stop. Jack's expression turned from aggression and anger to surprise. "Woah!" he said, catching his balance, trying to stop himself from falling over.

"Time for a little payback, Jackie Boy," you said, as you ordered his hands up to his hoodie. Jack involuntarily pulled it off, revealing the jock's tanned arms with a thin but noticeable layer of blond hair over them. They were sculpted up to his biceps, thick, meaty arms that he had spent years on in the campus gym.

Jack threw the hoodie to the side. "Oh what was that?" He asked, his breathing intensifying out of his surprise and fear of what his body was doing without his control. "I didn't do that just now, did I?"

He turned to you with a look of pleading. "W-what's going on?" he asked, finally with a look of fear in his eyes.

"You're under my control," you told him, with your smile widening. "I can do whatever the fuck I want now, and what I want is for you to get out of those clothes."

"Huh?!" Jack said, his demeanor quickly turning to a submissive, confused and vulnerable man. "Wait, what is going on?" He kept repeating.

"Kick off those shoes," you commanded, and ordered Jack to cross his feet and kick off his tennis shoes.

"Holy shit," Jack whispered, continuing to pull his socks off. It was the first time in his life that he felt truly without control.

"And the pants, jock boy," you commanded again, Jack quickly unbuttoning as he watched his hands in horror.

He shoved down the sweatpants to his ankles, revealing his dark gray boxer briefs. Sitting squarely between his legs, his six inch, fat, uncircumcised dick resting in front his fat testicles. Your smile widened. You had never seen the top jock this close before, and he was now finally yours.

Jack stepped away from his undergarments, his face still one of complete shock. "Wait wait wait wait, what are you doing, Bro? What the fuck is going on?" his voice was getting louder and more fearful.

"Don't worry," you reassured him. "Just having a little fun before I seal the deal..."

You dropped your backpack behind you and started walking toward Jack. As you did, you willed your clothing off of your body, peering down as your t-shirt, jeans, shoes and socks incinerated off of your jock body. You were left only in your musky jockstrap, that you had decided to wear earlier from the locker. You walked up to Jack and, ordering him to lift his arms, you slid your hands up his chiseled abs, rested them on his pecs for a moment, and then pulled the shirt off of him. "No, no, no" Jack whispered desperately.

"Come on, big man, why don't you just give it a try? You've never lusted after a dude before?" you whispered close to his ear. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it…” you ordered him, as the ring on your finger warmed up.

You reached your hands to his package and stroked his underwear, feeling his engorged rod as it began to stiffen. You stroked it at just the right rhythm to turn the arrogant jock on, pushing right where his sensitive points were. "Ugh," he responded, and somehow started to feel more and more lust for the situation despite being straight all his life. "Umm," he groaned again, his hardening dick approaching the band of his underwear.

"You like that?" you asked, arching your neck down to kiss his neck and cheeks, giving him little taps of kisses as you started to head toward his mouth. Jack had now shut his eyes, completely lost in the most orgasmic build up of his life.

You pushed your hands around to the sides of the jock's toned ass and rolled his underwear down, feeling the peachfuzz of blond hair across the sides of his asscheeks as you did so. You let the band snap over his dick as it bounced to attention, finally free from the underwear. Jack stepped forward to facilitate pushing his underwear down to the floor, and he stepped out of them.

Jack opened his eyes, "don't do it, bro" he pleaded. "Don't do it."

"Do it" you ordered, and with that Jack shoved down your underwear and began to massage your dick.

You began to grapple with Jack and felt his body up as he did to yours, too. You then ordered him to reach his hands to your dick and begin stroking it. He looked down at your incomparably larger dick as tears began to well up in his face. "Why?" he whispered.

"Bend over," You responded, as you shoved the jock back before pushing his head down onto the urinal in front of you. He held on as he bent over. You dragged your rugged hands up his legs to his rear and positioned yourself perfectly.

"No! Don’t you dare-" Jack threatened, but you simply grinned as you thrust your dick into his hole, pushing with as much force as you could muster.

"OH FUCK YEAH!" You groaned as Jack whimpered. As you began pumping, you realized you are fueled just as much by your want to humiliate the school’s most arrogant jock, as much as your want for him to notice and love you.

"You're mine, little man!" You shouted. "Every last inch of your being, you're now under my control, let this act be the mark of my dominance. OH FUCK!" You could feel your hefty balls ready themselves before churning, pumping your thick starchild seed, volley after volley into the spasming jock.

You wished for your body to produce more, to keep going, as you had a second, then a third full on orgasm, each better than the one before. Your seed began to leak out and dribbled down the jock’s athletic legs as he began to cry. "Stop it please, stop it!" he said between sobs.

You kicked his legs and shoved the naked jock onto the floor of the locker room as you stepped back. Your still hard cock bounced up and down as you admired and flexed your own sweaty body. "Oh fuck that felt amazing!" you roared. "I’m Shawn, and I can fuckin do anything now!"

Jack tried to crawl away on the floor for a moment before stopping from exhaustion. You turned back to him. "Hey Jack!" You shouted. “It’s time!"

Jack turned his head from where he sat nude on the floor towards you, fear in his eyes, all traces of the cocky confident jock from ten minutes ago gone. You stepped towards him, reaching out your arm, until you were close enough to rest your hand on his shoulder. You rubbed his shoulder and knelt down until you were at eye level with him.

"Jack, I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do to you so I can witness your reaction before it happens. I'm going to use the same powers I just tested on you to make you fall deeply, and passionately in love with me. In fact, we’ve been together ever since our childhood days, a love between us so strong and persevering through time itself. A true love story of sorts, so secret no one knows but us."

Jack's face turned from showing an expression of fear to one of horror, his mouth and nose contorting to show his obvious disgust at your plan. You leaned in closer and added more things in a low husky voice.

"And you’re going to be a much better person. Kind, compassionate, and supportive of others no matter your differences, but still confident and proud of who you are. You’ll spend more time on your studies to make your parents proud, but also keep going to the gym to stay in perfect athletic shape, for me. You’re going to use your prestige and family’s trust funds to help those in need, while keeping just enough to give us a lavish lifestyle. Such as taking me to your family’s private beach house every weekend so I can fuck that plump ass of yours."

He looked into your eyes, his face still reading disgust, and in a last-ditch effort he spat into your open mouth, and catching you by surprise he launched upwards, grabbing your upper arms with his hands and pushing you to the floor so that he was above you, looking down into your eyes. Your dick sprung upwards at the sight of him above you, excited by the closeness and feeling of his naked thighs on yours.

"You're not doing anything to me you deranged faggot, I'm going to fucking snap your neck and you'll never speak to me again!" he said, recoiling one of his arms in preparation for a punch to your face. You used the opportunity to quickly break free from his grasp, which required barely any effort given your enormous strength, and in one quick move wrestled him stomach-first down onto the cold hard floor. He laid flat against the tile floor as you held your knee on top of him, using your entire weight to keep him from moving anywhere.

“Stay still. This will be over before you know it.” You felt the ring on your finger slowly heat up, and subconsciously tell you it required direct contact to rewrite a subject’s whole life and reality. The heavy wheezing and thrashing underneath you made it apparent that Jack was beginning to panic.

“W-wait! Fuck!! You’re basically turning me into a pussy! A loser! No, no, no!! Please, stop! I-I’ll work under you, I’ll give you all my money, I’ll even make sure no one threatens your career! Just, please anything but that! I can’t possibly live like that! I don’t deserve-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence before you brought your enormous hand against his plump ass and gave it a loud and hard slap. The ring burned hot on your finger as the red imprint of your palm slowly emerged on Jack’s right butt cheek.

The slap was so loud and so hard, it seemed to have completely paralyzed Jack, leaving him slack-jawed and staring forward in utter shock. He remained in that same frozen position for a minute or so, until a tingle seemed to pass through his body. Immediately his shoulders slumped, his whole body relaxed, and facial expression changed - to one of pure lust and ecstasy.

“Oh, sorry. What were we talking about again, babe?” Jack asked, as he turned around with a smirk on his handsome face. His tone of voice seemed softer and more gentle, and his entire demeanor seemed to have changed. “That slap just felt sooo good!”

Seeing the change in his nature, you released him and helped him up, noticing immediately his engorged member poking against your thigh. “Oops, guess I got a bit too carried away…” 

You felt him lean in closer, moving his hands onto your thick and strong back, as his gentle hands rubbed it sensually. You opened your mouth to allow the tongue that was trying to open your lips in, moving your tongue into his breathing hot mouth.

Jack moved his hands down your back, grabbing your asscheeks and squeezing them lightly. You looked into each other's eyes and through what seemed like telepathy, which it easily could've been, you both got into position. You spreading your legs wider and him getting on his knees, with his lips almost but not quite touching the tip of your throbbing dick. You looked down on Jack’s flustered face before pushing your head onto his gaping warm mouth. He expertly wrapped his soft lips around your massive stick and began moving his mouth up and down it, causing you to moan in ecstasy and sending you straight to blowjob heaven.

You sped up, lost in the frenzy, before you finally climaxed down his throat. He kept sucking copious amounts of your salty man seed down into his stomach, as if he hadn’t had a single drop of water all day.

Then, before you even had time to recover Jack suddenly stood up and pushed you back into the locker room, grinning widely as he did. Pushing you down onto one of the benches with a loud thud, he quickly climbed on top of you and aligned his scorching hot hole against your still pulsating monster. “Now stay still, big boy. I’ve been yearning for your “Star Piercer” all day, and I only have half an hour left before my next class. You’re gonna let me milk you dry before then…”

You could only howl and moan in pure pleasure as Jack sat himself down, forcing you deeper and harder into him than you could ever imagine. You never would’ve thought of him as a power bottom, but you’re so glad for it…

An undefined time passed before the locker room door opened and you both peered outside, making sure no one was in sight. You and Jack quickly walked out, acting as if nothing had happened. He suddenly pulled your neck down and gave you a sloppy kiss on the lips, before whispering deeply into your ear. “I love you, my big boy. You know I can’t wait for the weekend.” Jack beamed with joy, as he turned around and disappeared down the hallway.

You were still reeling from the afterglow of the entire encounter. You never expected that you would experience six orgasms within half an hour, and yet that was the reality. A reality given to you thanks to a small ring sitting on your finger. Just a few hours ago you were a nobody, always fantasizing and lusting after the jocks within your life. Now, you were Shawn, the star quarterback, destined to a life of success, with a rich and influential boyfriend to boot. A new body, a new identity, a new life, and a new love. The very thought made you chub up all over again, leaving you walking down the hallway while constantly adjusting your enormous crotch…

Epilogue

A few months had passed since the day you became Shawn and claimed Jack as yours. You were truly living the perfect jock life, with a successful career and loving boyfriend. Everyday you���d still find yourself amazed over the athletic prowess and sports experience your new body had. The feeling of blazing across the football field was exhilarating, and every goal you landed made you feel more and more proud over who you were and what you would become. You were Shawn, the Starchild, and you were planning on staying that way forever.

You and Jack were still deeply in love. There wasn’t a single day when you didn’t long to plow that plump athletic ass of his, and he desperately yearned for your creamy “Star Seed”. It also didn’t take long for you two to finally decide to come out. Though the other jocks were shocked initially, surprisingly many were very accepting of your new sexuality. Not that they had much of a choice anyways. It was either accept it, suddenly turn gay the day after… or be completely replaced. One prime example being Shawn’s dad, a former college jock turned body-builder, who refused to accept his son’s newfound sexuality. Everyone was surprised when the middle-aged man suddenly started talking and acting like one of the college’s openly-gay twink, who had suddenly disappeared the day before…

In the end, you had completely rebuilt the dynamics of the college and town. You had united the different groups of jocks, made your town one of the most gay-friendly neighborhoods, and had Jack and his powerful family spread their influence all over the world. Although you weren’t interested in world domination, with the ring on your finger nothing was impossible.

For now, you were living the life you had always dreamed of, and you were loving every single second of it. You truly believed it would never end.

That is, until a few months later when the old coach finally decided to retire. A younger, more experienced, and quite famous football coach was to replace him. You wouldn’t think much of it then, but you had no idea about the vendetta he carried against the former Shawn, nor that he had a special ring of his own…

For the next few months, the perfect life you had built up would be completely turned upside down...

To Be Continued...

Merry late Christmas and Happy New Year to you all! Hope you enjoyed this present I prepared to end this year with! For those that wonder, I'm doing well health-wise and I just recently got a new job. The future is still somewhat uncertain, so we'll see how much time and energy I'll actually have for writing. Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to another year of great TF stories! /Verus

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Death and the Fool

Chapter 3: The Three of Pentacles--Reversed

Agatha Harkness x Fem!reader

Summary: Where the personification of Life believes she has no chance with Agatha Harkness after Death gets to her first.

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Taglist: @hannah-0730 @loveshineslikethesky

“Three of Pentacles–Reversed: Disorganization, lack of teamwork, group conflict.”

__________

The ground beneath your feet is cold. 

Leaves are littered on the path–the road. The Witches’ Road. The Witches’ Road that shouldn’t exist and has never existed before. But, somehow, now it does.

The rest of the coven walks far ahead. Teen, who seems quite excited, practically bounces up and down as you walk beside Agatha. You can see it in her mannerisms. She’s deep in thought—and you know exactly why.

“Agatha, what the fuck?” you mutter.

She shoots you a dangerous look and flexes her fingers. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re not the only one here with that question.”

“How did this happen?” you ask quietly, completely ignoring the way that word makes you feel. “You don’t think he—”

“Of course I think it was him!” she hisses. 

“You know what this is?” The shrill cry of Sharon rings out, interrupting your conversations. “This is a kidnapping! And I think it is high time we involve the local authorities!”

“Are we gonna ignore the fact that something chased us down here?” Jen asks, looking pointedly towards Agatha. 

Alice’s face grows hard. “Chased Agatha,” she clarifies. 

Agatha rolls her eyes as Sharon raises her phone in the air. “Okay!” she cries. “No cell service!”

Nobody but her seems to be concerned. At least not externally. You hold your emotions quite well as a cosmic being. Internally, however, you were losing it. 

Lilia scoffs. “Well whatever chased Agatha down here, it’s our problem now.”

“Is that because covens share blessings and burdens alike?” Teen, in contrast to the rest of the coven, is bright eyed and excited. 

“Okay someone really needs to call this kid’s parents,” Jen says. 

“Oh I’m 100% positive they’re asleep. Unless…” His head tilts back and examines the surroundings. “Do you think this could be perpetual night? You know…as a vibe?”

Speculations and grievances are thrown around as you stand by with Agatha. Bickering and arguments make it hard to focus and hard to think of a way to get through this. 

“What are we gonna do?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “This has gone completely off the rails. You’ve nev—”

Agatha shushes you instantly. “Let me handle it. Calm down,” she says. “It’ll be fine. They’re not the most gullible bunch I’ve met, but they’re desperate, that’s for sure.”

“What are we even up against?” Jen looks directly at Agatha, clearly expecting an answer.

Instead, Lilia speaks up, her voice breathy, “Tame your fears. That’s what we’re up against—our worst nightmares.”

“But, in what form?” Jen asks. 

“Trials,” Alice says, before turning sheepish. “At least…that’s what the song says.” Her eyes land on Agatha and everyone else follows suit. “What are they like?”

Your eyes meet Agatha’s cautiously, almost as if to warn her. When she looks back at the coven, they’re all anxiously waiting for her answer.

“The Road,” she says grimly, “will test us on our knowledge of the craft…One trial for each skill.”

It’s silent as the coven takes in her words, until Jen speaks up, “How do we pass them without any power?”

“Well,” Teen cuts through, “there’s always analog magic.” There’s an awkward silence before he tries to convince them. “You know, labor intensive, manual acts of magic…Witchcraft! Emphasis on the craft!”

“Again,” Jen sighs, “who are you?”

And there it was again. The sigil. Covering his mouth as he spoke his name. 

Everything about this boy confuses you. 

You’ve made every single soul that walks the Earth. From North America to Asia, from the northern hemisphere to the southern hemisphere, every single soul was a creation of your own. 

But this one does not feel right. 

This one isn’t yours. 

So, if this soul, in which you did not create, is living and breathing, then where is the other soul? Where is the life this soul stole?

“Don’t look at me,” Agatha shrugs, a look of disgust on her face. “I didn’t put that clumsy glamor on him—sigils are beneath me.”

You can see the coven isn’t convinced, and their attention is directed on you now.

“What about you?” Jen says. 

You’re taken aback by her question. “Excuse me?”

“Who even are you?” Jen asks, narrowing her eyes. “Why aren’t you a part of the coven?”

You open your mouth to respond but Agatha’s arm comes to your torso, pushing you aside. “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “I have no idea what’s under that sigil. He could be something special, or he could be a pest that some cranky witch stashed under a rock.” 

Jen gives you a pointed look as Agatha continues, “We can crack him open later. The real value lies at the end of the Road…besides, she’s too good for this coven–if I should even call it that. That’s why she’s not a part of it, Jennifer.”

You can see Jen become visibly aggravated. Just as she opens her mouth to let out her rebuttal, Teen grabs everyone’s attention. “Wait, where’s Mrs. Davis?”

All bickering stops and pandemonium ensues when you’ve realized that Sharon has wandered off. 

“I mean, you take your eyes off of her for two seconds,” Agatha mutters, just as a shriek pierced the air. 

Just up ahead, as you and the coven rush over, Sharon is elbow and knee deep in thick, black mud. 

“Help me!” she screams. “Getting lower, witch people!”

Alice is the first to get to her, wrapping her arms around Sharon’s waist and pulling. Save for Agatha, the rest of you run quicker to help Alice, a domino effect of arms around waists as you all pull Sharon from the mud.

“Really?” you mutter to Agatha. “You couldn’t have helped?” 

She rolls her eyes at you before sighing, “Okay, well, I thought this was pretty obvious, but for the uninitiated…Rule one!” She raises her arms, moving them to mimic the boundaries of the path. “Do not step off the Road!”

Sharon scoffs and Teen’s face lights up, “‘I stray not from the path!’”

“Yes,” Agatha says sarcastically, “thank you, Teen!” She turns her attention back to the coven, addressing them almost condescendingly. “So, if we all just follow the instructions of the ballad, we’ll be safe as kittens! Okay?”

You know this won’t end well. The group hasn’t even been on the Road for half an hour and it’s already fallen into mayhem. 

“What is that?”

A golden light slowly creeps onto the blue leaves that are scattered across the path. Everyone’s attention turns to its source, and just beyond the path lies a Cape Cod style beach house. Its blue exterior stands out against the orange sky, looking so perfect it was almost two-dimensional. When your bare feet hit the sand, it’s warm, and dead reeds that have fallen off of the original plant bury themselves in the top layer.

“Was that there before?” “I think we should stop asking that question,” Agatha says.

The walk to the beach house is quick. Bits and pieces of shells, broken down and softened by erosion, mix in with the sand. The feeling is uncomfortable and you try your best to step lightly. 

The porch of the house is large. Coastal style furniture greets guests as a resting place and soft lighting illuminates the blue shingles. The large door is what stands out the most.

“It’s a full moon,” Teen says. “The water phase.”

There are awkward glances exchanged between the coven. 

“So…Do we go in?” Alice asks.

Sharon huffs and rings the doorbell. “Well, we don’t want to surprise anybody!”

A beat passes before Agatha gasps and smiles, “Don’t we?”

When she barges into the house, no one bats an eye. Instead, everyone becomes enthralled by the interior decoration. Large windows look out to the ocean where the sky remains a warm orange, casting light onto the sofa sets and armchairs. 

As for the coven themselves, your clothes have changed. Original clothes have turned into outfits that make you all look straight from a show about housewives. Your hair is now curly and pinned up in an intricate updo while your cardigan, only buttoned at the top, reveals an off-white top tucked into a long skirt.

The coven wanders around the first floor, Alice and Lilia sticking together and talking about how the house has “Big Little Lies all over it”. When Teen calls out from the dining room, everyone rushes over to see that he has a piece of cardstock in his hands.

“What is it? A wedding?” Agatha asks, snatching it from his hands. “Please, God, not a baby shower.”

“Oh, like anyone would ever invite you to one of those,” Jen scoffs.

Everyone takes a turn with the card, scanning over the gold text:

My age has value

I’m no fun alone

I mess with your mind

My tricks are well known

Agatha hums, “Sounds like a witch.”

“Sounds like you,” Jen chides.

With the coven standing in a circle, you all think hard as to what the riddle could mean–and then Sharon gasps.

“Wine!”

“That’s…right,” Alice says, turning around to see five glasses and a bottle of wine. “Ten points to Mrs. Hart!” She immediately stops Sharon when she reaches for the bottle, “Wait, wait, wait! We don’t know what it could do!”

“Sure we do! Something terrible!” Agatha says. “But if we don’t follow these obvious breadcrumbs, we can’t move forward and we won’t get to the big prize, so does anybody have a corkscrew?”

Teen’s face lights up, “There’s a built-in bar!”

“I’ll go with you,” Jen says, hurrying behind him.

You knew immediately why she wanted to go with him, so instead of staying with the rest of the coven, you pipe up, “I’ll go too!”

In the main sitting room, a mini bar filled with expensive glasses and china is built into a corner. When you hurry over you begin to open cabinets and drawers, not paying too much attention to Jen, but just enough for your ears to perk up when she says, “Hey, just a bit of advice…watch your back with Agatha.”

You remain focused on the task at hand, still listening in–that was, until Jen brought up the rumors surrounding Agatha. The rumors that she never once defended, no matter how repulsive they became.

Because it was impossible for her to let them believe that she, Agatha Harkness, the most feared witch in history, did not give up her child, but lost him instead.

She could not let it be known that even her magic wasn’t powerful enough to stop the inevitable.

“Did you know that she traded her own child for the Book of the Damned?” Jen asked.

“That can’t be true,” Teen says.

You have to bite your tongue, but it’s becoming increasingly hard as she continues talking.

“No,” she scoffs. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But that is what people say. They say, no one really knows what happened to him.”

She continues.

“They say he might be dead. Others say he might be a demon…or an agent of Mephisto. But, hey, that’s what happens when you have Agatha Harkness as your mom, right?”

No. That isn’t what happens. 

“I doubt she’d even recognize her own son if he showed up on h–”

You slam the drawer shut. “I found the corkscrew,” you snap. “Teen, go back to the dining room.” When he leaves, you hold the corkscrew up and point it at her, your voice lowering in a deadly manner, “You…don’t know the half of it–not even a quarter of it. And don’t think you will ever be privy to the knowledge of what really happened.”

She’s taken aback and scoffs, “Oh, the glorified babysitter’s got a lip on her. Why should I listen to you?”

The memories of the Agatha-that-was returns. Seeing her in your clean chemise after having Nicky that morning. Seeing her smile as she rocked him to sleep, and how happy she was when he’d smile up at her.

And seeing how desperate she was to keep him alive. How desperate she was to stick to Rio’s deal.

“Because you have no idea who Agatha Harkness really is,” you spit. “And until you do, I don’t want to hear a single damn word come from that mouth of yours.”

Jen doesn’t get a chance to respond when you finish, walking away quickly. 

“Here,” you say bluntly as you enter the dining room. “The corkscrew.”

When you place it on the table–a little more aggressively than you planned–Jen is walking in. She’s clearly affected by your words but says nothing. Agatha’s eyes immediately meet yours and she raises her brows, a curious yet humorous look following.

__________

Sharon is on her second glass of wine when the coven retires to the sitting room. The sofas and chairs are pale, the only color being the lightest of blues–a rich contrast from the wine that sits in the covens’ glasses.

“Ugh, I hate red wine,” Jen says.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Lilia smiles. “Just think about the prize.”

You can see Agatha walking the perimeter of the room, almost sizing it up. And you’ve known her long enough to know what she’s thinking. You divert your eyes to the rest of the room–they’re all distracted by their own conversations, and when you get to the mini bar, Agatha is setting her glass down.

“Already finished?” you utter, a hint of mischief behind your words. “You always did like your reds, Aggie.”

You can see her cheeks start to redden and she flips her hair over her shoulder–something you had always seen her do when she gets flustered or awkward.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” she huffs quietly.

You smile, “Oh, you always liked it when we called you that.”

“Well that was…” She stiffens visibly. “Before.”

“Before?” you reiterate. 

“Before…Events,” she murmurs. 

“Right,” you mutter. “You look great by the way–not something you’d wear at all.”

“I know, I hate it–”

“--But I could get used to it.”

Your words mingle together and you smile softly. “Not sure I like the nails, though…Well, I’m gonna go take a seat, because I don’t think we’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

You take a seat at the opposite end of the sofa that Alice sits on with Teen in between you. Sharon sits across from you in her blue cardigan that the Road gave her, and seems much more relaxed than she was at the start of this. 

“So, a witch is just another name for a bad girl, right?” she asks.

When Lilia responds it’s almost as if a bomb goes off, and your attention shifts to Agatha. She rests on her side on the backrest of the sofa that Sharon sits on.

And you can’t help but eye her up and down–or side-to-side in this case.

The brown blazer and white turtleneck is something you never thought she’d wear–or even touch. And the sensible loafers were even more shocking.

But not in a bad way.

Not in a bad way at all.

Even in something she hates, she looks refined. Almost elegant in a way. And as Lilia rambles on, she can clearly feel your eyes on her. Agatha turns her head with a sly grin, looks directly at you, and winks.

You only have time to feel the heat rush to your cheeks when Alice gasps. Sharon is at the front of the sitting room, rambling on about her wrinkles, and unbeknownst to herself, her face has swelled immensely. It almost looks like she’s had ten too many botox and lip fillers. 

“Okay, Mrs. Hart,” Alice says, approaching her cautiously.

“It’s Sharon!”

“Sharon,” she corrects herself. “You’re…a little swollen.”

The whole room stares at her in shock and Agatha looks at you again, whispering, “I think she looks fantastic.”

“We’ve been poisoned!” Jen exclaims, standing from her chair.

“See, I told you it would be something awful,” Agatha mutters to herself, rolling her eyes.

Quickly, the whole covens’ faces swell to that level. Shrieks of how bad they look, especially from Jen, are endless.

 As Jen talks to Sharon, trying to explain to her what’s happened, your eyes drift to where Agatha should’ve been. Instead, you’re met with empty space, and when you turn your head around just a few seconds more, she’s back in the dining room. She’s frantic, clearly unaware that you’re onto her ploy as she tries to open the doors.

Sharon panics, picking up her wine glass and trying to get the last drops out.

“No, no, no!” Teen says, rushing over. “It’s poison, remember, Sharon?”

“Why don’t you just let her drink it all?” Agatha shouts from across the room, standing close to the door. When she realizes what she’s said, she pulls her hair in front of her face and twirls it, lowering her voice. “I mean, it just serves our best interest is–”

“You didn’t drink,” you say.

She freezes.

“You didn’t drink the wine,” you say again, “did you?” Those feelings clouding your mind just minutes ago have dissipated. 

Teen looks around, finding her glass and grabbing it from the mini bar. “She didn’t drink.”

The glass was suddenly full again and Agatha grows increasingly agitated, raising her voice as she tries to defend herself. “Well, why should I? Not all of us have to suffer! Neither of you drank!”

“I’ll shove it down your gullet, so help me!” Lilia grumbles.

“Well,” you surmise, taking the glass from Teen and handing it to her, “according to you, I’m too good for this coven. And Teen is underaged. I mean…you can’t cheat Agatha. You’ve been on the Road before, you know this.” 

Yeah, well–” She takes the glass and smashes it on the floor.

“We’re wasting time!”

“You have to drink, Agatha!”

“Well, I would, but there’s no more wine,” she says. “So…”

Alice turns around and grabs her empty wine glass. The dark liquid starts from the bottom of the glass and works its way up to a third of it. She glares at Agatha, holding it out to her.

“Drink,” Teen commands, his voice low, almost deadly. When Agatha makes no move to take the glass, he does. “Fine, if you don’t, then I will.”

“No!” Agatha pulls him back and grabs the glass from Alice’s hand. She sighs and then groans, begrudgingly tipping the glass back and gulping it down. “Ugh, it’s so cheap.”

The poison reacts quickly and Agatha’s face begins to swell. Jen’s quick to help identify the poison, asking Sharon various questions.

“Do you feel tingling in the back of your throat?”

“No.”

“Do you taste mulberries?”

“What do mulberries taste like?”

“Do you hear fairies–”

“I love you guys.” Lilia has a blank stare before she blinks it away, clearly unaware of what she just said.

The swelling quickly fades, with Agatha’s just only a couple minutes behind. Sighs of relief and bubbles of comfort are torn down by Jen when she says, “Not ‘yay’. Very much not ‘yay’. The fact that the facial swelling decreased so quickly means it can only be one type of poison, Alewife’s Revenge.” The look of sheer terror only increases as she lists the effects. “Facial swelling is just the beginning. Next is dizziness, delirium, loss of motor function. Tachycardia, hallucinations, and eventually…death.”

The room is quiet as the realization begins to weigh on them–all except Teen, who asks, “How do you spell ‘Alewife’?”

“I’ve gotta get out of here,” Agatha says, darting across the room and picking up a candle holder. She holds it tightly as she tries to break the window, the coven yelling at her and rushing over to stop her.

A large crack has formed when you rip it from her hand and you set it down on a nearby table. “You can’t run from this, Agatha!”

“Why not?” she shouts. 

When you go to answer, you’re stopped. Sharon begins to cry out, “Wanda? Wanda, I’m begging you. Let him breathe. Please!” Her eyes become droopy and she begins to sway before she collapses onto the couch.

You point behind you. “That’s why!”

The kitchen is massive. It’s hard to take in every detail as Jen rushes you through the ingredients of the potion.

“Okay,” she huffs. “I need frankincense and the gut of a eusocial insect.”

“We’ll handle that first part!” Alice says, completely out of breath, but still moving quickly out of the room with Teen hot on the trail.

“Next, I need a corpse that’s been decaying for at least 30 million years.”

Agatha, clearly irritated as she fans herself during a hot flash, huffs. “Is that something readily available? Because I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Jen rolls her eyes and groans. “Do I have to translate everything? It’s zooplankton! It’s in petroleum products!”

“That,” you say, “maybe we can do.”

You rush out with Agatha as Lilia and Jen stay in the kitchen searching for the other ingredients.

Agatha is panting as you go through each hall, searching for the one that leads to the garage. When you open the door, you’re met with an empty concrete room.

“No car,” Agatha huffs.

“And no gas,” you say. “What else could we use?”

“Okay, I’m thinking…umm…petroleum…Jelly!” Agatha exclaims. “Petroleum jelly!”

“This is why I wanted you to stop with the Road shit,” you mutter as you swiftly walk back down the hall.

“No,” Agatha shrugs, giving you a smug look. “You wanted me to stop because I was throwing you and Rio into overtime.”

You wanted to disagree, but in all honesty, that was a huge part of it. You love your job. But it’s exhausting having to help three or more souls at once. You and Rio rarely had to help more than two souls at once, but when Nicky came along it was almost every day.

After Rio’s deal with her, Agatha would usually prepare the week in advance: siphon the powers from three witches on a Sunday, travel to a new village with Nicky, then siphon the powers of four more witches on Monday.

One soul for each day.

One soul for each day Nicky is alive.

One soul to keep the sacred balance.

But, once Nicky was dead, it didn’t stop. It was almost like she was doing it out of spite, even out of desperation to get Nicky back. 

But she never did.

And the Witches’ Road continued.

You stumble upon a bathroom. It’s large, with pillars squaring off an area for the sink and separating it from the shower and toilet. On the shelves, surrounded by powder pink decorations are jars of moisturizers and creams.

“Ugh, of course Jen’s skincare made it to the Road,” Agatha scoffs.

You look at them, taking one in your hands and examining it. “But, it’s all organic, right? There won’t be any petroleum in these.”

Agatha looks over the entire shelf and purses her lips. “Hm…I know a snake oil salesman when I see one.” She eyes you a mischievous grin. “I say we call her bluff.”

The second her fingers touch the jar, she freezes in place.

“Agatha?” 

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns around, completely ignoring your presence and walks slowly to the opposite side of the room. Agatha takes measured steps and it seems almost like she’s in a trance. 

You follow her slowly and when she kneels down she begins to breathe heavily. She reaches out, touching nothing but thin air before smiling. She laughs softly and tears prick her eyes, but the look of happiness soon vanishes. 

She gasps loudly and you fall to your knees beside her as she cries out. When she tries to crawl backwards, you grab hold of her and force her to face you, cupping her cheeks softly.

Her eyes are red as tears stream down her face and pool beneath the skin of your hands. 

“It’s not real,” you reassure her. “Whatever you saw, Agatha, it wasn’t real.”

Her voice is thick and she struggles to speak. “I lost him–I lost him, again–I–”

You know what she’s saying, and you don’t let her continue. Instead, you pull her into your arms as she sobs against your shoulder and clings to you tightly. Your hand goes to her head and threads through her hair. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “It wasn’t real.”

“Jesus, what happened here?” Through the open doorway, Alice stands with Teen behind her. Her eyes look tired and she’s breathing heavily.

Agatha pushes away from you immediately as if the entire situation never happened. She stands up and flips her hair, huffing as she marches over to the shelf of skincare products, wipes her eyes, and takes an armful of them. 

When you stand, she moves past you and pushes through Alice and Teen. You avert your gaze and follow Agatha down the hall and back into the foyer.

Jen and Lilia are there, both equally shaken by whatever they must’ve seen as well. When Alice and Teen return, Jen looks at them, terror evident in her eyes.

“Are you guys okay?” she breathes.

Alice sighs, shaking her head. “Definitely not.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Agatha says. “We’ve got ours, what’s next?”

There’s a cracking sound amidst the heavy breathing of the coven. Heads turn toward the large window in the sitting room where Agatha had tried to break free. 

The orange sky was gone.

There was no warmth remaining outside of the Cape Cod beach house. And the warmth inside had dissipated long ago.

“Are we underwater?” Teen asks.

A steady stream of saltwater trickles from the crack in the window.

“How long until it breaks, do you think?” Alice says.

“Well,” Jen says, looking at the timer, “considering we have less than ten minutes left, I’d say not very long.”

The entire coven carries Sharon to the kitchen, placing her on the table before rushing over to the sink.

“Okay, we have to add the ingredients in a specific order, in a specific time, starting with guts and eye,” Jen explains, struggling to breathe. When she pours in the ingredients her hands can barely function, and she instead has to move her whole body.

Beside you, Agatha struggles to hold the containers of Jen’s skincare and her breathing becomes more labored. You reach out and take the jars from her, letting her relax against the countertop. 

“Where’s the zooplankton?” Jen asks.

Agatha grins as she struggles to keep standing, “Ooh…all natural or not, Jen?”

She clearly weighs the option of admitting she’s a fraud or dying–and she decides it’s not worth it. “Drop it in.”

“I knew it,” Agatha sneers, watching you drop the containers as a whole into the sink.

The timer continues ticking down as Alice struggles to open the frankincense. 

“Take your time, Alice,” Agatha groans. “We have all night, don’t worry.”

When Teen takes over, there’s a visible flash of embarrassment across Alice’s face. The second the last drop of frankincense hits the water, it glows pink.

Jen looks confused. “Any bright ideas on how to set the sink to boil?”

“You didn’t think of that earlier?” Agatha scolds.

“When I was in the middle of a traumatic hallucination?” Jen snaps. “No, Agatha, I did not!”

Teen gasps. “Is there a sous vide?”

“What the fuck is a sous vide?” Agatha mutters as the kitchen erupts into chaos trying to find one.

You, however, stay at the counter, because right now, Agatha’s legs are starting to give out. Teen comes back after finding one and places it in the water. “It’s a super fancy cooking tool,” he says. “It heats water to a specific temperature so you can cook your meat evenly. My dad loves his.”

“Oh, cute!” Agatha says, rolling her eyes.

Jen calls for Teen and tosses him a wooden spoon and comes to his side. “I need you to stir with your dominant hand, counterclockwise.”

He goes to stir and then pauses. “Um–”

“Oh, jeez,” Agatha mutters to you. “The kid doesn’t know his right from his left.”

“To the left!” Jen snaps. “Everyone poisoned, pull a strand of hair out of your head now. A single strand only.” She pauses and the coven waits for her signal to drop it in. “Wait…Okay, now. Stop stirring.” 

Jen grabs your hand and Teen’s. “We need to clasp hands and clear your minds. Once our intentions are aligned, it will glow bright cerulean.”

“What are our intentions, again?” Agatha asks you.

“To not die,” you sigh.

There’s a bubbling sound from the potion as it swirls in the sink. When your eyes open, the potion is far from blue.

“I must’ve missed an ingredient,” Jen mutters to herself.

“We have one minute left!” Agatha says. “What did you forget?”

“I don’t know!” Jen shouts defensively. “I’ve never made this potion before! I make retinol serums, for Christ’s sake! And they’re not even organic!” As the timer beeps down to the last fifty seconds, Jen begins to panic. “There was once a time where I could solve this with a wave of my hand…But now? I’m bound. He took my magic, and we’re going to die. We’re going to die, and it’s going to be my fault!”

Despite struggling, Agatha limps over to Jen and holds her in place. “I have always hated you,” she seethes. 

“Agatha if this–”

“But I left you alone,” she continues. “Unlike many other witches, I left you alone, because you were doing something important. Not this Kale Care crap. You were doing legitimate work. You weren’t powerful because of your magic. You have knowledge beyond many people’s comprehension, so fuck whatever that doctor did!” She takes a deep breath, steadying herself as much as possible. “Pick through that stuck-up, pretty little head of yours and find what you need to finish the potion.”

“Blood,” she blurts out. “Blood of the unpoisoned.”

There’s no hesitation from you. Your fingers fly to your hair and retrieve one of the silver pins holding your hair in place. You reach over and take Teen’s hand, pricking his finger quickly and yours after. Drops of your blood mix with his in the potion, turning it bright blue.

Cups are dispersed to the coven and despite everyone having taken a drink of the potion, the timer is still counting down with ten seconds left.

While the rest of the coven rush to get a cup of the antidote to Sharon, you know it’s futile. A hazy glow surrounds her relaxed form, and even as they pour the potion into her mouth, you watch her soul lift into the air.

Amidst the chaos, no one seems to notice that you’ve disappeared. You simply watch from the kitchen counter as they carry her lifeless form through the waves of water and send her down the trial’s exit. 

It’s quiet as the water drains and it’s not long after that Rio appears.

“I can’t believe you left me to take all those souls by myself,” she teases. “Not surprised to find you here, though. I knew you’d visit Agatha when I told you about her.”

She’s in her black cloak, vines sprawled across her shoulders and creeping down her legs. She’s light on her feet as her natural curiosity gets the better of her and she looks around. “Hm…I have to say he’s really proven himself. I’m impressed. Not to the level his mother’s done. But for being sixteen, it’s pretty good.”

“How are we gonna do this, Rio?” you ask.

“Well,” she huffs. “He has a sigil on him, so until it’s broken, there’s not much we can do.”

“And if he dies? If he doesn’t sacrifice himself to you…he’ll reincarnate again, Rio.” You lean against the counter as she continues looking through drawers. “Wanda was so irresponsible doing this. Two spare souls–we don’t even know where the other one could be, or if it’s even entered into another vessel.” You let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s hard enough to keep track of natural born souls, but artificial ones? I–”

“Hello?”

Your words are cut off by a voice behind you. It’s Sharon. 

“What happened?” she asks. “Where is everyone?”

Rio joins you in front of Sharon, her presence looming over her. It’s obvious she doesn’t know what to feel–confusion, mostly, maybe even fear.

“You’re dead,” Rio states bluntly. 

“Rio…” you mutter. She’s never once been good at breaking the news to the newly passed soul. “Sharon,” you continue, “you’ve passed away.”

“What? It was only supposed to be a party…”

“It’s a lot to process,” you say. “However, your soul is fairly new, so you have some options.”

“Options?” she repeats, still reeling from the realization. 

You nod. “If you feel that you have some sort of unfinished business, you’re more than welcome to stay as a spirit and try to complete it. If you’d rather, though, you move on to a new life, or retire your soul. I do, however, try to encourage relatively young souls to move on rather than retire…but it’s your choice.”

Sharon looks at you both, nodding lightly as she takes the information in and processes it. “What happened to my husband’s soul?” she asks finally.

“He retired his soul,” Rio answers.

“Okay,” Sharon whispers. “If I retire my soul…can I bring it out of retirement if I want to?”

You smile softly. “Yes,” you say. “If you wish to, you can retire your soul for as long as you please, and then take form in a new life.”

“Okay,” she says again. She’s quiet as she mulls the choices over, weighing them all before she says, “I’d like to retire my soul for now, if that’s okay. I want to see my husband again.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Follow us.”

[warframestuff]

Hotfixing will be paused while we work towards our next major Update: Isleweaver, coming this month! 

One important note: during this downtime, the iOS team may continue to Hotfix to tackle performance improvements exclusive to the Mobile platform!

Like always, our next Cert Update includes further code fixes. Code describes changes made directly to the engine, which requires Certification from each Console platform to pass its checks, such as ensuring an Update doesn’t crash the machine itself. 

We also need to ensure Cross Platform Play parity so all Tenno can continue to play together! 

You can find further details on the “Code” and “Cert” processes here!  

With Isleweaver coming in hot, we’ve got quite a few goodies for you to enjoy with the Update, including:

Our 61st Warframe, Oraxia!

Rusalka is in Duviri, and you’ll take her and the Murmur on with a Warframe in the classic Duviri loop.

Isleweaver will be accompanied by a Clan Event: Operation: Eight Claw, where you can earn rewards such as a new evolving Signa and Incarnon Heavy Scythe!

Kullervo, Caliban, Citrine, and Jade are receiving an Augment!

New Operator hairstyles from Flare, Minerva, Velimir and Kaya.

Further Quality of Life changes, such as:

Rotating Incarnon Shop with Cavalero.

Plant Resource Acquisition is now being a pick-up.

Junction changes.

Dojo Quality of Life.

Curious about a few of the resolved issues from our ‘Known Issues’  list, in addition to any other issues? You can expect to see the following issues resolved*:

Turning off screenshake removes weapon recoil. 

Players can be stuck spamming Void Blast if they hold down the Quick Time Event input too long in a section of The New War Quest if their input setting is set to "Hold".

Player Companions equipped with Balanced Posture or Sharpened Claws still attack Wild Kubrows.

Warframes affected by the Exalted Weapon rework (i.e., Ash, Atlas, Khora and Gara) used the incorrect Melee Finisher animations.

Certain transmissions are missing in the Natah Quest due to the shortened Defense mission.

The Punch Through stat is locked on weapon eligible for Punch Through, notably the Cantare.

Players could have The New War Quest progression halted early on by an End of Mission screen.

You’ll be able to separately customize Charge reticle colors via the HUD Customization screen. 

We added this setting for Reload / Charge with Yareli Prime, but separated them out further after community feedback. Players can now customize Reload and Charge colors separately. 

Fixed being caught by a Narmer Deacon in The New War quest sometimes resulting in function loss on a black screen.

Improved performance when Volumetric Fog is set to high.

* The bounty of issues on our Known Issues list is still a priority, but some aren’t in a state to confirm as 100% “fixed.” Additionally, we’ll continue to test the above fixes to ensure they are fully resolved on all platforms should any outlying issues arise. 

Like always, we’ll be present in our usual spots! Whether we’re hunting bugs, gathering feedback, or talking directly with you, we’ll be here:

Our Devstreams are wrapped until TennoCon 2025. We’re excited to see you there, whether in-person or online!

TennoCon 2025 is on July 18th to 19th, with TennoLive on July 19th, streaming at 4:30 p.m. ET!

You can find the full TennoCon schedule here!

TennoConcert tickets are still available! 

Prime Time, Warframe International and Devshorts!

Thank you for your patience and understanding, Tenno! 

[baby-blue-skyy]

Too Sweet // R. Grimes (TWD) Part 2

Second part of: Too Sweet

I’m still getting familiar with writing on Tumblr, it’s going to take time to get used to, but I am determined to keep up this little series. Feel free to give me suggestions, ideas and feedback! Once I get a little more experience on here I will definitely be taking requests!

Warning: age gap, smoking

Summary: After arriving in Alexandria, Rick is still on high alert, uncertainty about the people who live within the walls of his new, unfamiliar home. But one person has caught his attention.

•••

It had been a few days since Rick's awkward encounter with Daisy. Days filled with constant vigilance and a haunting undercurrent of thoughts he couldn't quite shake. It wasn't that he wanted to dwell on her—he had more important things on his mind. His group needed him. He had a job to do. But every time he tried to focus on something else, her smile, the way her presence had thrown him off balance, was all he could think about.

The only thing that had given him some relief was that he hadn't seen her again. Maybe she was just a distraction. Maybe she was a complication he didn't need in his life. Rick didn't know, but he was trying not to care.

Then, Josh showed up—the next day as promised.

Rick hadn’t expected to meet him so early in the morning, and honestly, he didn't care to. The second Rick opened the door to find Josh standing there with a bag of clothes for Judith, his first instinct was to size him up—and Josh didn't pass the test.

The guy was a walking contradiction. Tall, built like a man who thought he could outfight anything—if only he wasn't too busy looking at himself in every reflective surface. His eyes were too sharp, his smile too wide, his words too loud. Every word that came out of his mouth was like a hammer, like he was so sure of his own importance that he couldn't help but drag the conversation on longer than necessary.

Josh talked about everything: his old life, his job (before the world ended, of course), the way he used to pick up chicks in the old world. Rick didn't care about any of it, but Josh didn't seem to notice Rick's lack of interest. Rick's gaze kept flicking to the side, his thoughts constantly returning to the discomfort of being this close to someone so... self-absorbed.

Josh made a big show of how "lucky" Rick was to be living in Alexandria. Of course, he didn't know Rick's situation, didn't understand the kind of weight he carried. Josh was the kind of guy who had probably always gotten what he wanted, with little effort. And Rick hated it. He hated the way Josh assumed everything was easy, the way his words filled the room like noise that had no purpose.

But Rick smiled thinly and nodded, trying to keep it together. He didn't trust Josh. And if he were being honest, he didn't trust anyone in Alexandria.

The day had drifted into the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky, but Rick couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him. The police uniform felt wrong against his skin. It was new, crisp, and clean, and he hadn't worn a uniform in a long time. It was a reminder of who he used to be. But it didn't make him feel any more like the man he once was.

He was supposed to patrol, to keep the streets secure. But instead, his eyes darted everywhere, scanning for any sign of trouble, any sign that this place wasn't as perfect as it seemed. Alexandria was a different world, but that didn't mean it was safe. Not yet. Not until he figured out exactly what was going on here.

Rick walked the streets, his steps heavy, his mind preoccupied with a thousand things—his group, the community, the job he had to do. He found himself circling back—his steps falling directly infront of his home. But something caught his eye. Something, or rather someone.

It was her.

She sat on her front porch, casually holding a cigarette between her fingers, exhaling thin streams of smoke into the air. She sat in a white wicker chair—her legs pressed to her chest—her eyes were fixed on something beyond him, but when Rick's gaze met hers, it felt like a jolt of electricity shot through him.

The moment dragged out, and Rick stood still for a few beats, watching her. He hadn't expected to see her again, regardless of the close proximity of living courters they shared. She wasn't like anyone else in Alexandria. She didn't belong to this world in the way the others did. Her beauty was like an ache he didn't know how to place, and every time he let himself think about it, it made him feel exposed, vulnerable.

She had a toddler with her, a little girl playing on the steps with chalk, oblivious to the world around her, drawing swirls and shapes on the pavement with innocent joy.

Rick swallowed, trying to calm the sudden rush of adrenaline that coursed through him. His mind screamed at him to keep walking, to focus on his patrol. But before he could stop himself, his feet were moving toward her. There was no logical reason for it—no good reason at all.

His legs felt heavy as he approached the porch, the quiet creak of the boards beneath his boots amplifying in the otherwise still air.

He wasn't sure why he'd walked over there. It wasn't like him. He didn't go looking for distractions. But her presence—her softness—had drawn him in, like a magnet.

"Thank you," He rasped, his fingers flexing at his sides. "For the clothes," he said, the words coming out without thought.

Daisy's eyes snapped to him, quick and sharp, like she hadn't expected him to be standing there. She inhaled deeply, the smoke from her cigarette curling around her in thin, lazy spirals. She studied him for a moment, her lips parting slightly as if deciding how to respond.

"No problem at all," she said, her voice lighter than he remembered, a hint of something playful in her tone. "How're you settling in?"

Rick nodded, trying to shake the odd feeling crawling up his spine. "Good," he muttered, his eyes drifting involuntarily to the toddler, still absorbed in her drawings. The little girl's chubby fingers worked furiously at the colorful chalk, oblivious to the world around her. Rick felt something stir in him—some quiet ache that had nothing to do with the apocalypse and everything to do with the future.

But his thoughts were immediately pulled back to Daisy as she untangled herself from the chair with a fluidity that was too easy, too graceful for the world they now lived in. It shouldn't have been so disorienting, but it was. She stood a couple steps above him, her proximity—so close to him—it should not have made him feel so... nervous.

He forced his eyes back to her face, but his focus wavered when the faint scent of vanilla and stale cigarette smoke wrapped around him like a blanket, invading his senses and pulling him deeper into the haze of her presence.

It was strange. The smell. He hadn't thought about it in so long—vanilla, perfume, something soft. It hit him in waves, disorienting him. He hadn't smelled something that normal in a long time. A sharp rush of dizziness caught him, and for a moment, he didn't know whether it was the world shifting beneath his feet or just the effect of her.

She moved down another step, the faintest rustle of fabric—the oversized t-shirt she accompanied brushing her thighs. It shouldn't have made him as anxious as it did, shouldn't have made his pulse pick up, but it did.

He had to get control of this. He couldn't let her get under his skin.

"So, this your job?" Daisy asked, her voice lighter now that she was standing directly in front of him, just a step above him. not that far away at all. "What are you, a cop or something?"

Rick swallowed, his breath caught in his throat for a second as he stared up at her, trying to keep his expression even, trying to keep everything in check. "Just helping out," he said, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

She smiled at him, but it wasn't the playful, easy smile from before. There was something softer in it now, something that tugged at him in ways he wasn't ready to deal with. "I see," she said. "Well, the uniform suits you...I think you look real professional.”

Rick's breath hitched, but he forced himself to look away.

His chest grew tight at her words, even though they fell mindlessly from her lips. The way she spoke, the subtle playfulness in her voice—she was so casual, so effortlessly confident, it felt like she was holding some secret that Rick couldn’t quite figure out. His pulse quickened as he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself.

“So, Deanna’s throwing a party?” he asked, the words feeling like a lifeline to something that wasn’t this strange tension between them.

Daisy hummed, leaning back against the porch railing as she took a long drag from her cigarette. She flicked the ash, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then her tongue darted out, dragging across her bottom lip. Rick tried not to notice.

“That’s what I hear,” she said, voice low, teasing, like she wasn’t fully invested in the conversation, but was enjoying his company nonetheless.

Rick looked down momentarily, shifting on his boots, trying to steady himself. His eyes darted up, catching her delicate form again. The soft curve of her neck, the way her fingers grazed her shirt. His gaze lingered before he spoke, unable to keep the question from escaping.

“Are you gonna be there?”

She pulled the hem of her oversized t-shirt down, her movements graceful, as if she had all the time in the world. She glanced briefly at the child still scribbling on the pavement with chalk, a moment of soft focus before she turned briskly, walking a few paces onto the porch, her fingers gently stubbing the cigarette into the ash tray. Her movements were like something Rick couldn’t quite place—effortless and fluid, like a dance he hadn’t been invited to.

“Josh,” she said, her tone casual, “he really doesn’t like those sorts of things.”

Rick stiffened at her words. It wasn’t the content of her statement, but the way it made him feel. The sudden, cold undercurrent that seemed to leak into her tone. There was something there. He could feel it, even if she wasn’t saying it outright. But he decided not to press. Not his business. She was none of his business.

He nodded slowly, the unease settling in his gut.

Daisy shifted on her feet, but her smile was soft now, a different sort of warmth to it, one that made his chest tighten. Her hands wrapped around herself, and she leaned against the railing, eyes on the horizon for a moment, as if contemplating something, before she turned back to him.

“For you,” she said, her voice warm, light, and playful, “I might make an exception.”

Rick’s heart skipped a beat. The words sounded innocent, but the way she said them made him shudder. There was a subtle shift in the air around them, like the temperature had gone up by a degree or two. Her voice, the soft smile—Rick’s body was already betraying him, responding to the unspoken invitation in her tone. But she wasn’t looking at him like that.

“And I have to meet your little one. I’ve been dying to get ahold of her.”

Rick’s chest tightened even more. His breath caught, and he stepped back instinctively, feeling the weight of the sudden pull in his stomach, that hot, unfamiliar pressure. It was like his mind and body were at war, his gut screaming at him to stay focused, to turn away, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

“Well,” he rasped, forcing a smile, “I should get back to it.”

He could feel the heat of her still lingering, the weight of the conversation heavy in the air between them. His feet moved almost reluctantly, but his eyes stayed fixed on her for a fraction longer than necessary.

A quiet moment passed before Daisy spoke again, her tone a little lighter, almost teasing as she gave him a soft smile. “Right! Well, stay safe out there, officer.”

Rick let out an amused chuckle. He couldn’t tell if the chuckle was more for himself, trying to ease the tension that had wrapped itself around him, or because she had said it in that way, with a wink of playfulness that made his chest tighten all over again.

But Daisy couldn’t help it. She let out a soft laugh, almost like an afterthought, before she caught herself, shaking her head.

Rick felt the strange flutter in his stomach, the sensation unsettling, like the world around him had shifted. He felt exposed—like she’d somehow managed to see something inside him he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

“Stay safe, Rick,” she said, her voice still light, but the faintest trace of something deeper lingered beneath the words. She turned back toward her child, but the unspoken tension hung between them like a thread pulled too tight.

Rick walked away, each step feeling like a battle against something he didn’t understand, something he couldn’t control. His mind was a mess, and every inch of his body screamed at him to forget the moment, to forget Daisy.

But her words, her presence—they weren’t something he could easily shake off.

[fruityfluter]

Welcome to Bulldog Babble! A networking space for all current Yale students. Go Bulldogs!

*Warning, yapping below the cut*

Pinned 📌 DanTheBulldog @Lux_et_Veritas After last night's incident, security will increase around campus. Student wellness resources are available for those who may need them. Click to view 30+ replies

Trending Topic Selected! -> Constance W. @constantlywinning Does anyone know that couple was fighting on campus yesterday? They’re my new source of entertainment 🍿😭

-> Catherine T. @chattycathywithac That’s Tiffany Villarreal and Cédric Lacroix; they’re callous, the farthest thing from a couple. My cousin went to school with them, said it was a war zone

-> Timothy S. @TIMMAAYY Are they aware that they're a couple??

-> Taylor P. @notthattaylor They were dancing with each other at dinner- didn’t look callous to me! 👀 *image attached*

Click here to view 5+ more replies

-> Tiff @tiffanyevillarreall What the fuck? [Warning! Profanity is not permitted on Bulldog Forums! Please reevaluate your language choices.]

Born 20XX, meet Tiffany Emiliana Villarreal, the only daughter of Elias Villarreal, the business magnate. Majoring in psychology, Tiff (as known by her friends), has always looked into meaning. Even if that meant overanalyzing every interaction and word until it hurt her brain, meaning meant something. Why can two people read the same thing and see two different meanings?

Tiffany has always done "too much". She learned Spanish and Italian from her parents, took French and German lessons ever since she was 8, and took voice lessons, while throwing herself into lyrical, waltz, and ballet classes from 7, 10, and 4, respectively. And that isn't to forget the etiquette classes her tutors recommended after a certain incident* at a party when she was younger. But she needed that. Drowning in work kept her busy, and after her mother passed, she did so much to not only try to make her mother proud, but to distract her father from the hole at the dinner table.

She's kind to almost everyone she meets. While for some reason, she doesn't understand how lower-class people live, she acts kindly simply because she can. Expect well-meaning ignorance and the type of person who expects every cent to be paid back (even though she won't confront you).

She had slowly learned to blend into the elite world, taking etiquette classes and learning to be the absolute best. Yale is a test. Can she make it without the guiding hands of her father and tutors, and can she survive the elite long enough to fool them, to make them believe she belongs there. Old money is old for a reason, and Tiffany needs to learn how to handle it.

Relationships:

Maxwell: She can almost swear that she’s seen his face somewhere, in a headline or an Instagram feed she scrolled by months ago. But here, as the RA who seems nice enough to reassure her of any concerns if needed, Tiff sees a friend. A figure to help now that her father isn’t around, even if that means it’s also another pair of eyes watching. Her paranoia wins a little with this one.

Vanessa: She seems good-natured, and Tiff is trying to let bygones be bygones (keyword trying). She always dreamed of her college roommate being her best friend, so she expects to start putting in the work. Even if their first encounter wasn't... ideal.

Cédric: Tiff always saw Cédric as a rival in school. Her dream to be the best fueled a less-than-positive relationship between the two. (She hated his guts.) But the line between love and hate is so thin, Tiff barely sees it anymore. She developed feelings somewhere between junior year and graduation, and didn’t realize until they both had diplomas in their hands and heads full of dreams. She hoped to set it aside now that they go to school together again, but unfortunately, they still somehow seem to get on each other’s nerves. But hey, at least they aren’t directly competing anymore?

Dumitra: Tiff is a little confused as to how Dumitra functions. How does one actively want to skip such an important event? For a frat party? But she seems close to Cedric, so perhaps she isn't all that bad. (Lord, Tiffany is whipped)

Wilhelm: Who?

Favorite Drink: Monster Assault. Coffee isn’t necessarily her favorite, but something needs to keep her awake. Monster Energy may as well hire her as a consultant, at the rate she consumes these things.

Aesthetic: Light academia Hamartia: Overreach (if that isn't obvious) (Idealism would be a close second.)

Other Fun Facts:

Her favorite ballet is Romeo and Juliet (Juliet is her dream role- she knows all the choreo). It made her realize her feelings for Cédric the summer before college- she saw a production and the man playing Romeo looked similar to Cédric. (She had an existential crisis during intermission.)

With 'Emiliana' meaning rival, sometimes she wonders if she and Cédric were meant to be rivals- even if she wants to drop that title now.

She'd drop psychology and her father's business for ballet. But she didn't work this hard to let her father's legacy go to a random cousin.

She almost majored in classics, but she thought psychology might help her more in the future. (AP Psychology was also the only one of her AP classes where she wasn't extraordinary)

**The incident happened when Tiff was 6, when she took a glass out of a champagne tower at one of her family's business conferences. Allegedly, when questioned about the incident, Tiffany would tell anyone who asked, "Buzz off, I'm tired!" And would dramatically pretend to sip from the glass. It gave her parents a heart attack with that one, although Elias found it quite funny.

Tiff was the first mood board I had ever created. She started this journey lol. She's my baby, and I love her to bits and pieces.

One of the few college IFs out there! (Please, I need more school-centered IFs... there's a void and I cannot code.)

Academic rivals to lovers is genuinely my drug of choice. I find it so rarely in fics; thank you so much omg.

Bulldog Babble was entirely a creation of my imagination. I don't know how. I've just been obsessed with smaus as of late. I had fun with the usernames, though.

Credit to: - @cafekitsune for the wonderful dividers!! - @childrenofcain-if for the stunning IF bro - Pinterest is for all photos/art on the mood board! (If any photographers/the artist for the middle photo want me to put credit for their photos/art, let me know!)

[mikedfaist]

When Mike goes to famous!reader’s shows, does he film her? Does he sing along? Does he just watch with his jaw on the floor the entire time?

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS QUESTION, also featuring in this ask are the songs tejano blue by cigarettes after sex; sex by the 1975; wake me by bleachers

Here are a few fan testimonies from previous shows:

Tell me how the fuck did I just see Mike Faist backstage at her DC show tonight? Babe is getting the groupie treatment.

Mike being at her show tonight isn’t helping the dating rumors and quite frankly knowing all of the words to Tejano Blue isn’t helping either.

Homegirl is really dodging all of the dating rumors but then brings the man in question on tour with her and expects me to act normal about it?

Nobody seems to be talking about Mike Faist backstage at [reader’s] show and recording the entirety of Sex on his little red iPhone. DROP THE FOOTAGE, MICHAEL.

Mike singing the lyrics to Tejano Blue so proudly like, “Yes, we have fucked. This song is about me. Thank you for wondering.”

On most occasions, he will be backstage watching, but if it’s a Columbus show, he’ll probably be in the audience with his family. (She puts them in VIP). He knows all the words to all her songs; his camera roll is full of pictures and videos he’s taken at her shows. He even brings his Nikon to take photos of her. He’s always smiling and laughing at her crowd banter. And of course he always looked the most concerned when she takes a fall – whether that be from spilled water or purely her clumsiness. The most notable moment happened at a Columbus show, of all places, and her foot got tangled in her microphone wire and she fell hard.

“Just leave me here… Don’t worry about me—I’ll finish the rest of the show down here… Anyone who recorded that, I will sue you if you post it anywhere, I fucking swear. Don’t test me.”

And it’s quite funny when she performs the more sexual songs at the Columbus shows, because she gets so shy and embarrassed and will skip over entire lyrics because there is no way she is about to sing about fucking her man in her car, with his mother in attendance. She’ll pass. She even mouths “I’m sorry” into the camera at the more explicit lyrics.

And if you’re one of the few lucky ones who have stood near Mike at the Columbus shows, you’re always in for a treat.

Me @ Mike Faist after every song: honey do you know this song is about you?

[reader] trying to be on her best behavior tonight because her mother-in-law is here

Does Mike know he’s dating [reader] or should I tell him?

SOUND THE ALARMS SHE SAID TONIGHT IS A SPECIAL NIGHT AND BEFORE SHE PLAYED WAKE ME SHE SAID IT WAS FOR ALL THE LOVERS OUT THERE AND SHE POINTED TO HERSELF AND MOUTHED “MY LOVER” AND MIKE’S MOM (presumably) SMILED AT HIM AND HUGGED HIM

[reader] really said “that is my man” and let us go ballistic

[reader] singing the words “I can’t believe I captured your heart” and staring directly at Mike Faist wasn’t on my BINGO card but

[dropoutconfessions]

this is for the owner of this blog. why tf did you reblog plaidos. do you even know who she is and the kind of damage she's had on the trans community? she answered an anon about someone clearly pretending to be a trans woman working for dropout (because they use the language "members" (proven that dropout cast doesn't refer to themselves as that) and mentions a "dropout show" (... dropout is not a show. it's a host of multiple shows)) who had 0 proof. she's so reactionary and her logic is easily dismantled, she contradicts herself all the time (the post you reblogged she goes on about how "trans women aren't marketable" which is why they're not in dropout. there are so many other trans people in dropout, but in the comments of another plaidos post she said "persephone was so popular when she was in d20". literally took me 2 minutes to find the contradiction. not to mention the graph she reblogs with an elusive "tme vs tma rep in dropout" with no stats and no classification of what tme and tma means, no clear answer on where the many appearances and shows specifically made for and by drag queens, and then complained that lumping every genderqueer person who likely came out after being hired equaled to more than one subset of trans people.

i'm so disappointed. so much for this being a safe, apolitical space. plaidos has done irreperable harm to me and my transmasc brothers and to see a DROPOUT GIMMICK BLOG reblogging her baseless and clearly incorrect accusations proven by literally just KNOWING about dropout. but instead, you've made your blog an unsafe place for anyone who isn't a white transfem by showing you're in agreeance with plaidos.

you want links to posts? go to her blog and search the #dropout tag. there's your links.

Okay so I just would like to say a few things in response to this. first, I reblogged like, one post, and not even directly from her. I do not do an insane amount of research into people I reblog from to check if everything is kosher, which I assume no one else does.

If y'all expect me to check that much, stop sending me asks about how I haven't posted your asks yet. I know everyone assumes its because I dislike their post personally. It's not. It's cause i have a really really busy life rn. I mean this with all the kindness in my heart, I do not give enough of a fuck to block most of your opinions from making the stage short of you using slurs or straight up lying.

Regardless, she passes the tests. She's not anti-trans mascs and I feel like this is the result of bad faith readings and people assuming trans women are the enemy. Also taking any mention of oppression that doesn't apply to you as a personal attack.

I looked her up and the first thing i saw complaining about her called her a slur, so not a great start gotta say. If any of y'all use this word as an insult, stop, it's categorically not okay.

Also, there can be a lack of trans women, and also you can like persephone valentine. 3 trans women on a network with like a fuck ton of other queer people is also not very many, when you take into the fact that twice as many TME trans people have been on multiple episodes of dropout shows, that's not a contradiction. You can be popular and also unmarketable, that's like every remotely famous TMA, and honestly trans people in general have a harder time. That's not contradiction, that's us going "yippee a single fucking crumb of transfem rep" in 2021 and then being drip fed with game changer, um actually, and dirty laundry occasional appearances for the next 3 years.

If you want a definition for TMA and TME, like a formal one, not just what the acronyms mean, do your research on it. You wanna know how I learned about the fact that they refer to specifically institutional transmisogyny? FROM PLAIDOS'S BLOG. Do you actually, like, look at her posts? or just the ones cherrypicked to make her seem anti-transmasc because of bad faith interpretations? She's very clearly aware of the oppression trans mascs face, it's called transphobia. Transmisogyny is specifically the oppression trans women face given the fact we are seen as a subhuman third gender on an institutional level.

so much for this being a safe apolitical space

I never said it would be apolitical. In fact, safe and apolitical are contradictory. We're trans. Our very existence and identity and lives have been made political, and will be political for the entirety of our lifespans. I'm not going to lie down and pretend otherwise for the comfort of the world and I am honestly disappointed that you, as a fellow trans person, are encouraging that behavior in any way.

The entire "not an ask" tag, is for me to talk. It's mine. My space. You cannot divorce this blog from my influence because it's my goddamn blog. I am not a jukebox or a puppet for you to get your fandom stuff. I am a woman with her own damn opinions and a large enough follower count for my push for trans rights to largely get slightly less ignored than they do on main.

I have been following dropout / collegehumor since the All Nighters. The only subject I am more knowledgeable about is probably Alpharad or Paper Mario. I know dropout. I know statistics, I'm majoring in it. I've known about this issue for years now. But until this blog, until very recently, I didn't have a platform for it, so I just shut the fuck up. I'm not doing that this time. I'm going to be a very jaded women because some of the men who are supposed to be my brothers are acting like this. Like we need to shut up and not complain. No. Fuck that.

I do not think Dropout is the bad guy here. As of now, I'm holding out hope. I personally, am not boycotting them (yet). I am holding out hope that they respond, and then I'll wait a few months because I know things are recorded in advance and hiring and vetting processes take time. But I would like a change. Because outside of a spike in 2021 (when the seven was released), transfem appearances on dropout hasn't really changed for the better, at all.

but instead, you've made your blog an unsafe place for anyone who isn't a white transfem

Oh damn I guess I gotta leave, since my blog isn't safe for me. Since yk. I'm not white. I'm a stone cold desi bitch and I will live and die that way. Thanks for assuming I'm white tho, really showing that "white people are the default" world view you've got going there.

Do you want to know why, everyone assumes only white transfems have this take? Because so few of you, actually listen to transfems, ofc you don't notice, that transfems of color, have the same fucking opinion.

I want it to be clear. I love trans mascs. My partner is transmasc. Some of my best friends are transmascs. I don't hate trans mascs. I don't even hate you. I just kinda hate talking to you. And everyone, regardless of gender, like you. The type of people who heard, that transfems are oppressed in a way transmascs aren't, a way cis women aren't, and somehow turned that into a personal attack. You took a single fucking critic against Dropout, and decided to be guided by hatred.

This is my problem with the fandom. Transfems bring up one little thing: they'd like to be more represented. Nothing about Dropout being evil, nothing against Sam Reich or Brennan Lee Mulligan, just the fact that they are cis white men in positions of power being a valid part of the data. And you started attacking us. We're receiving death threats because people are whiteknighting a comedy company that is visibly entirely unaffected by our actions.

I have one question for all of you. Why aren't you in the comments and reblogs of all the confessions tagged negative dropout post? You want to defend this company, I better see an uptick in notes on those posts. Otherwise shut the fuck and let us beg for a bit more representation in peace.

If you have a problem with that. Leave. I don't want you following my blog if you so desperately need me to be silent on the matters that affect me and the people I love. And that includes you. The day the world comes for your throat, I'll be there. I have come to accept that I won't get that same treatment. But don't you fucking tell me not to stand up for myself. Cause I'm standing up for the both of us when any of us need it.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Legal Limit

When Danny starts acting weird during school—drunk, to be specific—Sam and Tucker are tasked with figuring out what's wrong with him.

For the Prompts: Danny gets a ghost illness that causes his ectoplasm to ferment, resulting in him being mildly to extremely drunk constantly. {from @phantomphangphucker} and Nobody ever told Danny that dying and coming back would stop him from growing up. He discovers this (either on accident, from another ghost, or when he realizes he's stopped aging after a few years) and has a bad time. {from @kawaiijohn}

Read Also on AO3

[Warnings for illness and underage intoxication]

"Hic." Danny hiccuped. He'd been getting the hiccups off and on all day, but that was alright. He felt alllllllllll right.

"Hiccups again, Danny?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"'M fiiinne," Danny told her, blinking sluggishly at her like he was trying to communicate in very slow Morse code.

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

"Mr. Falluca thought so in second period, but the principal made him take a breathalyzer test, and it came back clean," Tucker told her.

"Y—hic! Yeah. Ca-leeeeeee-nuh."

"Okay, well something's obviously wrong with him," Sam said. "Is he sick?"

"Feel fiiiiine," Danny insisted. "'n fact, I feel good." 

"Yeah, I'll bet you do." Sam frowned at him. "He really passed a breathalyzer test?"

Tucker shrugged. "Maybe it's a ghost thing. If it was, I doubt a breathalyzer would notice."

"We should test him at his parent's lab after school."

A puff of missed escaped Danny's mouth, indicating that a ghost was nearby.

"If you'll 'scuse me," Danny said, standing up with a lurch and clumsily maneuvering himself off the bench at their lunch table. "Seems I gotta ghost ta fight."

"Or we could go now," Tucker suggested as the pair of them watched Danny stumble directly into the middle of the cafeteria and raise his fists into the air, about to transform in front of everyone.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Now is good."

"I'm goin—!"

"Home!" Tucker shouted. "He's going home. He is clearly in no condition for classes, so we're gonna get him outta here."

He and Sam each grabbed one of Danny's arms and started to drag him forcibly out of the cafeteria. Luckily, he was too out of it to put up much of a struggle.

"Yeah, nothin' to see here, just a kid who should have stayed in bed this morning."

"Wha—guyssss!" Danny complained. "What about the Ghooooost?"

"I'm sure Valerie will handle it," Tucker said.

"Valerie? She's so preeeettyyyyy."

"Ugh, gag!" Sam rolled her eyes.

As expected, when they dragged Danny out of the school building, there was Valerie on her hoverboard, already engaged with the Box Ghost who wasn't much of a threat anyway, thankfully.

Danny's house wasn't far, but given his condition, Sam opted to call a cab rather than try to drag him the whole way.

"Isn't you're friend a little young to get that drunk?" the cabbie asked as the three of them loaded into his backseat a block away from the school.

"I'll tip you a fifty if you mind your own business," Sam said.

"He looked twenty-one to me, officer," the cabbie said, and drove them to Fenton Works without another word.

Danny's parents were out on a ghost hunt, so the trio had the lab to themselves to run some tests. After an hour or so, they finally figured out what the problem was.

"Uh... Danny, according to this chart," Sam looked back and forth between the  color wheel and the stick in her hand, "when the stick turns purple like this, it indicates the ectoplasm has fermented and should not be used in any further experiments."

"Ectoplasm can ferment?" Tucker asked.

"Evidently."

"So I guess Danny really is drunk."

"Nooooo!" Danny refuted. "'M not drunk!"

"What are you then?" asked Tucker.

Danny scowled at him, until that scowl melted into a dopey smile. "'M happyyyy."

"So what causes ectoplasm to ferment?"

"On a shelf? Age," Sam replied. "In a ghost that's still up and walking around? No idea. Well... stumbling around anyway."

Danny bumped into a workbench and apologized.

"I think we're gonna have to take him to an expert," she said. "Grab a coat, Tucker, 'cause we're heading to the Far Frozen."

Danny gasped in excitement. "Yaayyyy! Frossssbite makes the Beeeessssst hot cocoalate!"

It took nearly an hour to get to the Far Frozen in the Specter Speeder. It probably would have taken half the time if Danny hadn't kept trying to take over driving.

It was a struggle not to crash land outside of frostbite's cave, but with Sam distracting Danny, Tucker managed to touch down the speeder safely.

"Frostbite, there's something wrong with Danny!" Tucker shouted as he and Sam corralled their drunken friend inside with promises of hot 'cocoalate'.

"Please tell us you know how to fix it," Sam all but begged.

"Oh, my," Frostbite commented, taking in the state Danny was in. "Come in. I'll make some cocoa."

"Yayyyy!" Danny cheered.

Sam and Tucker groaned.

While they were sipping cocoa, Frostbite took an ectoplasm sample from Danny and took it to his study. Only a few minutes later, he returned, looking relieved.

"Good news," he said. "His ectoplasm has begun to ferment as the result of a relatively common ghostly virus, and I know how to make a cure. The even better news is that, once cured, he should be inoculated against ever getting the virus again."

Sam and Tucker sighed in relief.

"Hear that, Danny," Tucker said. "After this we will never have to deal with you drunk again."

"At least until he turns twenty-one," Sam amended.

Frostbite laughed heartily. "Ohh hahaha! It's funny because he won't be turning twenty-one! Haha! Good one, child!"

"Uhhh... care to clue us in?" Sam asked. "I didn't realize I was making a joke."

"Yeah, what do you mean he won't turn twenty-one?"

"Yeahhh! Waddya mean I woon turn twenny-onnne?" Danny echoed, looking up wide-eyed at Frostbite. "Also, canneye have more hot cocoalate?"

Now, frostbite just looked confused. "Well, obviously he will in a chronological sense—time still passes after death—but as a ghost, even a half-ghost, his physical age will remain unchanged. Physically, he will always be fourteen."

Danny's mouth fell open as he continued to stare up at Frostbite. Sam and Tucker didn't dare to say anything, hoping that Danny was too intoxicated to understand what was going on.

"Y... you mean... I'm neverrr gonna grow uuup?" Danny said, tears welling up in his eyes. "'M gonna beee fourrrteen forreverrr! And therre's noddeven anymore h-hot cocoalate?!" 

He began to openly bawl, and no one really knew what to do about it.

"Oh no! No, great one!" Frostbite attempted to reassure him. "Of course there's more hot chocolate! I'll make some now. Would that make you feel better? More hot chocolate?"

"NOooo!" Danny wailed, and his friends reeled back a bit as they realized that his powers were affecting his cries now and if they didn't cheer him up fast his ghostly wail might come out and bring down the whole cavern. "There's no more hot cocoalate for meee! Neverrr everrrrr!"

"You'd better get him that cocoa fast, Frostbite," Tucker suggested.

Frostbite nodded frantically and hurried off to oblige.

"No, Danny, that's not what he said," Sam tried to calm him down. "You can have all the hot 'cocoalate' you want, you just won't be able to drink alcohol."

Danny sniffed, his tears subsiding. "Alcoholl? Hic. I can't have alcoholl?"

"That's right," she continued, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "And alcohol is nasty stuff anyway, and it makes you feel all weird, so you wouldn't want to drink it anyway."

"Donn wanna?" Danny repeated. "But... Frossbite is bringing more hot cocoalate though?"

"That's right," Tucker said. "He should be back any minute."

Suddenly, Danny's tears returned full force and he was bawling again. "He'll be back in a minnud, but I wonn even be ONE minnud olderrr!"

Sam and Tucker looked at each other with matching grimaces, both of them silently hoping Frostbite's cure was the fast-acting kind.

Danny calmed down a little when he had some cocoa in his hands again, and Frostbite hurriedly excused himself to make the cure while Danny burned his tongue and blew bubbles in his drink, seemingly having already forgotten the reason he was crying, or that he had been crying at all.

When Frostbite eventually came back with a glass filled halfway with a thick, green liquid, Sam and Tucker were ready for all this to be over.

"Here you go, Great One," Frostbite said, holding out the cure. "Drink this and you'll feel all better."

Danny leaned forward, sniffed it, and pulled a face. It seemed even just getting the cure into him would be a whole ordeal.

"Stinky!" Danny said, sticking his tongue out.

"Oh, don't be fooled by the smell," Frostbite said, sounding calm. "This is a brand new hot chocolate recipe I'm trying out. It may smell funny, but it tastes better than any hot chocolate you've ever had. You have to drink it all, though."

Danny's eyes widened and he quickly snatched the drink and gulped it down.

"I've treated many ghosts for this," he muttered to Sam and Tucker with a wink. "No one can resist my hot chocolate."

When the cure was gone, Danny pulled that same disgusted face again. "Ugh, Frostbite, I think you should abandon this cocoa recipe and stick with what works."

"He didn't say 'cocoalate'," Tucker observed. "Danny, you back with us?"

"What d'ya mean? I never left—hic!"

"It starts kicking in right away, but he won't be fully back to normal for about an hour," Frostbite said, "and he'll have to pee like crazy to expel the fermented ectoplasm. You should get him home quickly."

"And then once he's fully sober, we're gonna have to have a talk with him about the whole 'not aging' thing, aren't we?" Tucker guessed.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "That's really not something we should just let sit until it becomes a serious problem."

Tucker sighed. "Of course we can't," he grumbled. "You know, just once I wish there'd be a problem where ignoring it until it goes away actually works."

"You and me both, Tuck," Danny groaned, rubbing his head. "Lessss jusss go home."

"Promise you won't try to take the wheel this time?" Sam asked.

"The onlllyyy thing I'm takin' is a nap," Danny replied, and the moment he was inside the Specter Speeder he laid down on the ground and was out like a light.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Meghan is doing better after getting pilloried for her show, but this is the same pattern as always. She does something ridiculous and then she gets hate, then a bit of sympathy while her PR tries to smooth over the incident. 

I think her detractors often overestimate her influence because they are frustrated she won’t just immediately go away. They feel a sense of injustice that she’s been allowed to get away with all her antics, but I think we underestimate how many celebrities are terrible behind the scenes. Hollywood naturally attracts narcissists and people willing to do whatever it takes for some cut of the fame and fortune. Meghan is just less talented and her fame stems from being connected to royalty which means she will always get more scrutiny and she will always see herself as too special to do all the things she would really have to do to compensate for her lack of talent. She’s never going to go full Kardashian or real housewives, for example.

She’s a foil for the royal family, and people who hate the royal family are always going to extend her some grace because they want to continue to use her for their own purposes. Unless this charity scandal engulfs them (or similar scale event implicates Meghan directly) it is going to be a slow decline into irrelevance. Meghan’s brand will probably pop up occasionally in the media for the next year or so, but so many celebrities have brands now. I come across new ones all the time on social media that I had no idea about. Some star that was relevant over a decade ago starts a dog food brand or whatever. She gave up aristocratic life to be yet another celebrity hustling for their next paycheck. 

No, I think it's an expectations issue.

Meghan has always had high expectations and high standards, of herself and of the people around her and of the things she does. That's completely fine and not the issue. The issue is that she also talks a lot about having high expectations and she makes a ton of PR about having high expectations and high standards. The result is that a lot of royal watchers, whether they be haters or fans or casual passers-by, also have come to have high expectations and standards of Meghan and what she does -- after all, why shouldn't we take her at her word? As she kept/keeps telling us, she's amazing, she's a hard worker, she's up at 5am every day, she has all these great contacts in fashion, she knows all these fantastic people.

But then Meghan puts out the products/projects she has - The Bench, 40x40, Archetypes, Archewell, ARO/As Ever, the GOTV commercial, the Netflix docuseries, the Hubb Kitchen cookbook, the wedding dress, the tours (real and fauxyal), her speeches, her panel appearances, the Instagram/social media. And by any ordinary yardstick, they would be good, solid, successful projects.

But remember: Meghan's been telling us since 2016 how amazing she is, how high her expectations are, how high her standards are. We do not have an ordinary yardstick to measure Meghan's accomplishments with. She did not allow us to have an ordinary yardstick for measuring her achievements because her expectations and her standards are so stratospherically high. And when we measure her work to that standard of high expectations...it doesn't pass muster. It doesn't pass the smell test.

That's where all the parodies come from. That's where all the criticism is. It's everyone saying "hey, you said this was going to be amazing. But it's not. It's really basic, mid, beige, half-baked." So then we all lower our expectations to that mid, basic, half-baked level and that's when she finds success.

So there's really no one to blame for this but Meghan. It's not royal-watchers, haters, detractors, whatever. It's Meghan. She sets the bar so high for herself because she wants to be competitive with a group of people who surpass her in every way. If she had not set the bar so high, if she had not done PR after PR after PR about having high expectations, if she had not given us a yardstick of extraordinary, then she would be a very successful socialite - someone who's still A-list adjacent. Not an influencer. Not a hustler.

[marcelloshdz]

celebrity crush

summary: while giving an interview with your best friend, you admit to having a celebrity crush. requested by anonymous. marcello x f singer!reader

“y/n, thank you for doing this with us today.” one of the producers said to you as you arrived on set. you were filming an interview with buzzfeed, partaking in their “BFF test” with your best friend, sabrina carpenter.

you and sabrina had been friends for years, and had been by each other’s sides throughout putting out music and finding your way in the industry. you were thankful that you had her in your life, because she was one person that you could truly count on and someone that always understood your qualms when it came to issues with the industry.

“of course! thank you for having us.” you said to the producer just as sabrina was joining you on set. you took your seats and began answering questions, having a good time, laughing and spending time with each other. you’d both been doing pretty well, getting most of the questions right.

“alright, my turn again.” you said with a smile as you picked shuffled your cards to the next question. “who is my celebrity crush?” you read aloud.

“oh, this is so easy.” sabrina said with a laugh. you both wrote your answers on your white boards, revealing them at the same time.

“marcello hernández” you said in unison, flipping your boards towards the camera. the chimes sounded around you, signaling another correct answer.

“she hasn’t watched snl live in years, but as soon as marcello started as a cast member, we were watching it every week.” sabrina teased.

“has she introduced you to him yet?” the producer asked you, referring to sabrina.

“no! she’s met him like, four times, but i’ve been too nervous to ask her to introduce us.” you said awkwardly.

“and, for what it’s worth, i’ve offered to introduce them.” sabrina laughed. “so, marcello, if you’re watching this!” sabrina said directly to the camera. you hid your face behind your white board, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. 

you finished the interview, answering the rest of the questions, and making jokes with each other. once you were done, you wrapped up the video, and headed out of the studio. you and sabrina grabbed a bite to eat at a nearby restaurant, before going your separate ways for the evening.

a few weeks passed since your interview, and today was the day it was finally being posted. once it was finally posted, you watched through it, your heart fluttering at the remembrance of you admitting to your crush on marcello. a few hours after it was posted, you were starting to get tagged in clips online, mostly fan accounts of yours and sabrina’s posting clips of the two of you and saying kind words about how much they loved your friendship. you were then tagged in another one, that was a clip of your admitting to your crush. you noticed that the caption of the clip also mentioned marcello. you felt your face flush, immediately nervous at the thought that he may see it. you decided to stay off your phone for a while, as your nerves were taking over, and you needed to refocus on work.

you were in your apartment, strumming on your guitar, trying to come up with some new melodies, when your phone started vibrating on your coffee table in front of you. you watched as numerous text messages came in back to back. you took a closer look at your screen, sabrina’s name flashing on your screen.

“Y/N” “Y/N” “Y/N” “HE SAW IT” “HE SAW OUR INTERVIEW”

“WHAT???? ARE YOU SERIOUS???”

“YES!” sabrina replied, attaching a screenshot of the texts marcello sent to her. 

his first text was a nice exchange, him telling her that the interview came up in his recommendations on youtube, and he thought it was a good interview.

“Your friend is cute, by the way.” his second text read.

“OH WHAT THE FUCK” you replied, fully forgetting how to form sentences. “this is not what i was expecting to come of this.” 

you and sabrina text back and forth for a bit longer before you both had to tend to some work.

about a month later, you were hanging out with sabrina when she got a call from one of the producers of saturday night live inviting her to take part of the big 50th anniversary special. she immediately accepted, and you celebrated together. you accompanied sabrina to the studio while she was rehearsing for what would eventually become the opening performance of the show, as well as a sketch appearance.

you sat in the studio chairs, watching them run through the sketch. you were giddy, watching some of your favorite cast members do their thing on the stage. you couldn’t believe that you were watching them work, but you couldn’t wait to see the final product. your glance flashed to the side of the stage, marcello getting ready to make is grand entrance as domingo. as he stood with sabrina, running through their lines, you began to zone out. marcello looked so cute, and you couldn’t believe that you were finally in the same room as him. 

once they finished the run through of the sketch sabrina came and sat with you while they were taking a break. 

“you’re doing so good! you’re so funny in this sketch.” you said, clapping for her.

“thank you! i’m having so much fun.”

“i can tell.” you laughed. just then, marcello came over to you and sabrina.

“marcello, hey! i don’t think you two have officially met yet.” sabrina said, motioning between you and marcello.

“no, not yet. hi, i’m marcello.” he said with a shy smile.

“y/n.” you said with an awkward wave. marcello sat with you while sabrina was rehearsing another part of the sketch that he wasn’t in. “i can’t believe they’ve got you doing domingo again.” you laughed.

“not a fan?” he asked with a laugh. “i’m not not a fan, but i just think you’re funnier than this one character.” you admitted to him. “but, for what it’s worth, even though these are just rehearsals, i do think this is my favorite of the domingo sketches.”

“that’s fair.” he laughed. “wait, you’re sabrina’s friend that she did that video with buzzfeed, right?” he asked, and you nodded. his words replayed in your head, and you felt your eyes widened. 

“uh, yeah. that was me.” you laughed awkwardly.

“hmm, good to know.” marcello said quietly before getting back up to rejoin rehearsals. you sat there dumfounded, barely registering what had happened. sabrina’s eyes landed on you, a confused look on her face.

“what happened?” she mouthed to you. you just shrugged and shook your head.

“nothing.” you mouthed back. you sat there alone while you watched the rest of rehearsal, laughing at the end of the sketch as pedro pascal and bad bunny also made appearances in the sketch. you were doubled over, laughing harder and harder as the sketch ended. 

once they were done with rehearsals, you stood with sabrina while she gathered her things and got ready to go.

“hey, y/n. can i talk to you real quick?” you heard a voice call. you turned in the direction of the voice, finding marcello walking towards you.

“i’ll wait for you outside.” sabrina said, squeezing your shoulder as she walked off.

“what’s up?” you asked him.

“sorry i just left you hanging earlier, i didn’t mean that.” 

“it’s okay. you were working.”

“anyway, i thought i recognized you from that video with sabrina, and i wanted to talk to you about it. but when you confirmed it, i got scared.” 

“oh, really?” you said with a smirk, crossing your arms over your chest.

“admittedly, you’ve become a bit of a celebrity crush of mine as well. i’ve seen you online, and i think you’re so talented, and funny, and very pretty.” marcello said, a light pink color rising to his cheeks. “that being said, would you wanna go out sometime, grab a drink or something?” he asked.

“i’d like that.” you said, nodding with a smile. you swapped phones, exchanging phone numbers. the two of you walked outside together, and met up with sabrina outside of 30 rock. 

“sabrina, it’s always so good to see you.” marcello said, hugging her. he then turned around, smiling at you. “y/n, i will text you later, and we can set something up.” he said, hugging you as well.

“i’ll be looking forward to it.” you said, waving as he walked off.

“oh my god, are you going out?” sabrina asked, and you nodded.

“yes! we exchanged numbers, and we’re gonna set something up this week.” you said excitedly. just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. “oh my god, he’s texting me already.” you said, opening his messages. he was sending you a few restaurant and date options for when you wanted to go out. you picked a place, and set a date, excitedly texting marcello back.

“oh i’m so excited for you! you’re welcome, by the way, for finally introducing you.” she teased.

“i owe you for life.” you said, wrapping your arm around her shoulders and resting your head on hers. once you got home later that evening, your phone was ringing on the couch next to you. you looked down, marcello’s name flashing on the screen as he was facetiming you. you fixed your hair before answering. “hey there.” you said with a smile.

“hi! i hope you don’t mind my calling. i just enjoy talking on facetime than i do through text.” 

“no, i don’t mind. i actually prefer facetime as well.” you said with a smile.

you and marcello were on facetime for most of the afternoon and into the evening. you loved talking to him so much, as he made you laugh so hard, and you loved getting to know him. you were already hitting it off so well, and you couldn’t wait for your first official date.

[silvermasquerade]

The Golden Raven Spoilers,

I’m talking last couple pages of the book type spoilers.

Do not pass go, do not collect $100 if you’re not there

There’s something so wonderful about

Rex, Latin for King being called a stupid name by Jean. Does Jean know that it’s what it means ? No, definitely not. Do the floozies ? Some of them maybe, who knows. (Laila & Jeremy could. But it doesn’t matter at the end of the day)

(Notably: Jeremy if he listened to his parents and he studied Latin again instead of French, he could. Which, is directly referenced by Willam as something his mom would prefer. So that’s fun. Didn’t even realize that until writing this post)

( and!!! It’s diminished by everyone else as ’ like the dinosaur’. So even if they did know? They do not care. No hate on T-Rex’s— but know Riko would be fuming and rolling in his grave.)

Then Rex is renamed Jabberwocky, after the poem:

A poem that while silly is regarded as a literary classic for a REASON. and has staying power.

Yes I could do a literally analysis of the nonsense poem but I’m currently lazy.

Either way, Here’s the full poem if you’re curious.

from a king to something that’s silly but loved & stands the test of time. I like that, I like that a lot. Feels like the ravens to the Trojans. Especially with how old the Dog is (six years), it’s not exact but close enough that jeans “ your parents threw you away too”was a gut punch.

More importantly I’d die for this fictional dog.

Was not expecting to do analysis on dog names today… I should be though as irl my family is getting a puppy this week.