#well you need to know how to make good plays but it’s all strategy based ya know ough I didn’t realize how much I loved these

[cantofworms]

Ace please youre making me miss the among us era 😭 That time was so fun tho, lighthearted but watching them lie their way through imposter rounds or putting on their detective hats was awesome. My fav moments were when Dream tricked everyone as the jester, he did a little jingle one time (and i fully believe he did little dance too) hes so cute

IT WAS SOOOOOO FUN !!! it’s so funny bc it’s impossible for amungus to get legitimately toxic as soon as the round ends everyones friends and super nice OUGH all the lobbies Dream played in were always soooooooo impressed by him WE NEED ANOTBER BIG GAME LIKE AMUNGUS OR CRAB GAME !!! just for ppl to play with and be niceys to dream pls it’s all I want,,, plus he’s just a smart fuckin guy it’s genuinely so entertaining to me to watch him strategize and play the game as imposter or crew even thro other ppls povs

[vettelsvee]

YOU'RE NOT HANNA, AND NEVER WILL BE HER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6588

summary: 2010 german gp post race party has many things in store for seb and y/n, who finally do what they both been willing to do for a long time even they're dating hanna prater and nico rosberg

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words, "cheating", mentions of suicide and cancer

a/n: i'm quite scared and happy at the same time to be posting this fic because it's one of my favourite parts ever on history series, but still has me so worried you might not like it because of all the topics (and because history series was originally posted on wattpad and not many people liked it but don't let anyone know that pls). anyways, let me know your thoughts on this one and request anything you might like if you want pls! i'll probably be posting tomorrow another part since my town is currently on high risk alert of floods and we've been told not to leave home. let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! thank you so much <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2010 Hockenheim   German Grand Prix  

You paused for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as Valentina finished your makeup. You leaned forward to get a better look, but the your woman followed your movements with perfect synchronization and, surprisingly, without messing it all up.

Your own reflection was completely unrecognizable to you. In front of you stood a beautiful, self-assured Y/N, looking like someone who possibly had a life that, while not perfect, seemed enviable.

You feared that a simple layer of makeup could make you feel completely different from reality. It was as if all your problems had suddenly vanished, and instead had in front of you a superwoman admired by everyone, not a twenty-something whose life was falling apart.

Valentina Martínez, the girl standing beside you with whom you’d had the opportunity to become closer, was one of the Mercedes catering managers and, also, exactly the complete opposite of you. Valentina had a beauty that everyone could admire and a confidence that many, including yourself, would love to have. She could lift others' spirits with just a smile and a few words that, while not wise, were good enough to make sense.

The Argentine radiated the kind of magic you felt you lacked.

So, when Valentina’s gaze fell on yours as you continued to admire how beautiful you felt.

“Come on, Y/N!” Valentina shouted, stepping away from you and starting to bounce on her feet. “I know this isn’t your thing, but I swear you look incredibly hot.”

“Valentina…”

“None of that,” she interrupted, “you need a bit more confidence. I don’t know how you don’t have it with Nico already. He’s totally worth it!”

As Valentina’s smile grew wider, you sighed and lowered your head. You thanked her as calmly as you could for trying to transfer some of her positivity, though you knew it was somewhat of a show Valentina put on for everyone and wasn’t doing anything particularly special for you.

That was what you liked least about her: Valentina was so well-liked and appreciated by everyone that, somehow, she always played the same role, regardless of who she was with.

“I don’t know why I’m going to a party I definitely don’t want to go to,” you confessed with honesty.

Today’s race had been quite tough, and although the strategies were solid, they didn’t seem to deliver the expected results when Seb only managed to get bronze in his home race. That’s why all you wanted to do at that moment was order a good room-service dinner and eat it under the bed sheets while watching some low-budget TV show before trying to get some sleep.

"You know that stepping out of our comfort zone is the best thing," Valentina said, moving closer to you and gently taking your hands. "Besides, you're doing this for Nico," she insisted. "Remember: he's your boyfriend, and it's your duty to make him happy."

You smiled shyly even though, deep down, you shivered a bit at the tone Valentina seemed to be using with you. It was as if she wanted those last words, it's your duty to make him happy, to penetrate your mind and stay there. You tried to ignore it, as it was probably your own insecurities taking over. And, in some way, you knew Valentina wasn’t wrong. She was aware that you needed to stop being so perfectionistic and rigid, and maybe start letting yourself go a little bit more.

"You're right, yeah," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

Without saying anything else, you left Valentina’s room to head back to your own, just a couple of doors away, not without first gathering the clothes you had been wearing earlier while your friend continued getting ready.

As you took out your room card from the small purse hanging from your shoulder and swiped it to enter, you started feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. However, the moment Nico Rosberg, your boyfriend, came out to greet you and looked you up and down, hands on his hips, all of it disappeared.

"Are you seriously going out dressed like that?" he asked, completely incredulous, pointing at your dress. "You look like a slut."

You were speechless, though part of you wanted to say everything she was feeling. Once again, fear caused you to shrink back, cautious about your actions and the possible consequences. The tone he had used on you was filled with anger and, above all, disappointment. You knew that nothing good would come from answering, so instead you held back everything you wanted to say to him.

“Nico, it's just a dress…” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, not really knowing how to make him see reason without losing your composure.

He stepped closer, and his eyes filled you with nothing but fear. You could swear that, in his fury, the bluish hue of his eyes had turned an orange-red, like fire; his pupils, fully dilated, were what sent you into internal panic.

“I don’t give a damn fuck if it’s just a dress,” he mocked you. “I don’t want you going out like that. You know there’ll be consequences.”

Be careful how you act with me, he had told you one day when you said you weren't in the mood to go out to have dinner. Since then, though you had realized many things he did to you, you’d also started to act with caution and rationality, knowing that blows could come at any moment.

You’d even considered that there was a remote possibility that you might be the one to end things, especially every time you recalled every single insult he used to hurl at you whenever you misbehaved, which had only increased in frequency in recent weeks, following your father’s death and your trip with Seb to your hometown for the funeral.

But, most especially, when the Red Bull Racing driver stayed a few days with you because he was absolutely worried about your mental health getting worse.

A lump formed in you throat as a few tears began to fall freely down your face, ruining the makeup your friend had taken so much time to apply and had turned out so well.

“If you don’t change your clothes right now and put on something that makes you look like a decent person…” He threatened, moving closer with his hand raised. “Think carefully, Y/N: I don’t want to go crazy, but I think you're forcing me to.”

You couldn’t let fear paralyze you at least, not now, as you felt his hand inching closer to your body. Another physical mark that would eventually fade, but another one that would leave a psychological one permanently.

"Please, Nico, don’t do this…” you begged, completely desperate by this point, but trying not to show it. “You said you loved me just the way I am and…”

“I just can’t believe you’re so stubborn! Don’t you get that I don’t want you going out dressed like some desperate girl who clearly wants to fuck with everyone?!” he yelled, filled with rage.

You backed up as much as you could until your back hit one of the surrounding walls. You had encountered this version of Nico before: no matter how hard you tried to reason with him, he would manipulate you until you ended up thinking it was entirely your own fault.

“Please, Nico, don’t shout. I don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“They’ll hear us if that’s what you deserve for wanting to embarrass me,” he shouted again, even more furious.

You knew the tension had reached its peak and that, from there, things would only worsen. 

Nico kept yelling at you. With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands pressed over your ears, waited for the familiar sensation of one of his limbs landing on any part of your body he fancied at that moment.

“Oh, so now you have the nerve to ignore me?”

When you heard him clearly again and saw his hand raise, you somehow found the courage to turn away and quickly slip into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door in your haste.

“Open up right now!” he screamed.

While he pounded on the door, his yelling relentless, you leaned against the farthest wall, as if he might burst in at any moment. 

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. 

You gasped for air in a place where there seemed to be none, your hand instinctively clutching your chest as if to shield your heart, which felt like it might burst out at any moment. You had learned to live with anxiety and panic, and both emotions had reached a point where they didn’t control each other but had fused, learning to coexist together with you.

“Nico… I’ll change my clothes,” you said, still crying, your voice choking. “I’m sorry, really,” you lied, trying to sound as convincingly as you could. “But please… don’t hurt me.”

Not again.

Your whispers seemed to have reached him because his pounding and labored breathing quieted. You hoped that the situation had calmed, and it seemed like it had.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead giving you enough time to remove the ruined makeup from your face and apply just a little mascara. A few minutes passed, enough time for you to relax and consider the possible outcomes of what might happen next, before he coldly demanded that you open the door.

You emerged and collided with his chest. Forcing yourself to look up at him, all you could see was contempt.

“Once again, you’ve disappointed me,” he stated without a hint of hesitation. “No wonder why lots of shit happens to you and people treat you so poorly. I was wrong to judge Vettel: he was right to treat you that way, and he should’ve done even more to you.”

All you could do was lower your gaze and head toward your suitcase on the floor, trying to pick something that would be ok with Rosberg’s dress code while reminding yourself that Seb did things quite bad, but he seemed to be truly sorry and apologized many times to you. The beautiful red dress, strapless and embellished across the chest, falling just above your knees, had to be replaced by another dress of the same color, but one that reached your ankles, with a much higher neckline and looser fit, so as not to highlight your nearly nonexistent curves.

“Happy now?” you asked, with as much disdain as you dared, even knowing he might match your face to her outfit.

“If you behaved like a responsible adult, yes,” he muttered as he opened the door and took your hand forcefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twenty-two and you have a lot to learn about life.”

Did he really know more about life than you did after all you had to go through?

That thought lingered in your mind throughout the journey, from their floor’s hallway to where the party was held, including the elevator ride where they encountered Mark Webber and a journalist from Sky Sports Germany, Eloise Schimdt. During the conversation between the four of them, though you remained silent, you had to pretend that everything was fine, even as your insides felt like they were shattering further.

As they entered the venue, the music, louder than she liked, started to throb in your ears. Your eyes opened wide to adjust to the dim lights from the spotlights, and, as you always did when in a public place with Nico, you began scanning the scene in detail.

There were more people than the space could comfortably hold. The dance floor was packed with people moving energetically, glasses in hand with the sole mission of keeping the alcohol from spilling. The bar was just as crowded, and in the center, across from shelves stocked with every type of liquor imaginable, she spotted Kimi, Fernando and Jenson with their respective partners, chatting animatedly.

But your eyes didn’t seem to waste any time and ended up settling on the guy standing a bit farther away from the others.

Sebastian was leaning back against the bar, tapping his left hand on it to match the rhythm of the song playing. In his other hand he held a glass of what she assumed was, possibly, a Jägerbomb, his favorite drink and, to him, a must-have for parties like this. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with those Geox trainers he always wore, and his hair was completely tousled.

In that moment, you felt utterly captivated by him, and you were sure you would have dared to talk to him if his eyes hadn’t been fixed on Hanna. The blonde girl was a few steps in front of him, dancing seductively without caring where she was or who might be watching her.

You couldn’t help but wish, at that moment, to be her.

You shook off those conflicting thoughts as soon as Nico grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, snapping you out of your trance, to head toward the bar.

"Give me a Martini," he said abruptly to the bartender, "and some water for her. She’s a bit dizzy," he lied to stop you from drinking, as he often did every time you went out.

"A Jägerbomb if you can, please," you ended up telling the guy behind the bar with your best smile.

You completely ignored the words and looks Nico was giving you. Instead, you just flashed your best smile at the bartender, who kept looking at you with concern, along with the rest of the people who weren’t too intoxicated yet and had overheard your boyfriend’s words.

"I can’t believe you’re drinking again… Can’t you control yourself or what?" he snapped.

He pulled you aggressively close, and you tried you best to ignore his words, spoken in a threatening tone directly into your ear, while you took your drink from the bar, along with his, and offered it to him.

Surrounded by people, you felt a bit safer than usual. He wouldn’t be able to hurt you, at least not physically, in front of everyone here… His reputation would be ruined, and Nico Rosberg was too proud to allow that.

So you didn’t stay silent.

"Nico, leave me alone for a few hours, please," you replied, ignoring his comments. "I’m here to enjoy the party you were so insistent on coming to, not to get scolded for wanting to have fun with you."

"Damn it, Y/N!" he expressed in frustration. "Do you always have to ruin everything or what?"

You just lifted your glass to avoid spilling your drink and walked towards the dance floor, leaving Rosberg behind, hurling insults you decided to ignore.

As soon as you found yourself among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a friendly smile, you let yourself get carried away by the rhythm of the music. Tonight your shyness seemed nonexistent, and you could only thank the alcohol for giving you the confidence you had lost. You started to lose track of time as you danced, and though you didn’t know how, each move helped free you from the intrusive thoughts of loneliness and worthlessness, of feeling like nothing more than a mere object, which had crowded your mind at a dizzying speed.

You knew that mixing liquor with the energy drink that funded your lifestyle was only a temporary fix and that, once the effects wore off, your life would return to the completely chaotic state you had come to deserve.

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the bodies moving on the dance floor. A spotlight focused on the stage, where Seb stood, microphone in hand and swaying. There was no doubt that he was drunk.

His swaying body made it clear that he had no idea what he was doing and that, at some point, he would end up regretting something.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said into the microphone. "But I feel like making a little pause in this party we’ve got going tonight because I want to sing a song to someone I care about a lot."

You began to feel terrible as Vettel gestured to the DJ for the music he wanted. A few seconds later, the first chords of Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars was the only sound echoing in the room.

"Babe, this song is for you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me!"

You could see Hanna smiling broadly and shrugging. You wanted to leave to cry again at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of you, of which you definitely weren’t the main character.

Was it too soon to say that the boy you were in love with dedicating a song to his girlfriend hurt worse than any blow your current boyfriend had ever given you?

Yes, it was clear. Possibly, the alcohol had already taken too strong a hold, and you could no longer control what you said or thought.

You know I'd never ask you to change  

If perfect's what you're searching for  

Then just stay the same  

So don't even bother asking if you look okay

You felt confused and didn’t know what to do, but Sebastian’s voice, trembling and making his English accent sound more German than usual, had you completely captivated.

So did Prater's reaction when the German shifted his gaze from her to you.

“This is for you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. “I know you know who you are, and I want you to know it’s all for you, and that you deserve the absolute best.”

When I see your face  

There is not a thing that I would change  

'Cause you're amazing  

Just the way you are  

And when you smile  

The whole world stops and stares for a while  

'Cause, girl, you're amazing  

Just the way you are

You noticed Hanna moving to your side, visibly confused and clearly uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t say anything else, nor could you to her. As much as you wished to be Hanna, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the strong possibility that her boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl right in front of her.

Or, at least, that’s what the alcohol led you to believe.

“I want you to know that, from the first moment I saw you, you’ve been in my heart,” Seb admitted, his words drawn out, uncaring about the reactions of those around them, especially his girlfriend’s or yours. “Right now, I can’t have what I want most, but I want you to know that being with you is the only wish I’ve made, and the one I’ll keep making on my birthday, until we can finally be together.”

That was the last straw. As quickly as she could, trying in vain to hold back tears and avoid drawing attention, Hanna left, thoroughly embarrassed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. Seb's voice still echoed in your ears, but you tried to ignore it because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Lost in thoughts, you moved as far away as you could, trying not to stumble. Then, you made your way to the bar to order another drink, as if that might somehow make you forget what had just happened.

Just before you could exchange words with the bartender who had already served you so many drinks that night, you felt someone take your wrist, though this time much more gently. You knew it wouldn’t be Nico; when you turned around and saw Seb, however, you were even more surprised.

Your eyes met, and butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. Once again, you felt at home and safe, though deep down, you were only afraid.

Without saying a word, he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

In that moment, you felt everything fade away. You let yourself go, unafraid of who might be watching or what might happen next. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss… your first kiss. 

Slowly, calmly, and, as you felt, full of affection, you stayed that way until you both needed air.

You felt that you had both been waiting for this moment for so long and, in a way, you deserved it, turning a simple gesture of affection into something unique and special, caring little about your partners or your sobriety.

Seb pulled back, his hands still resting on you, and your gazes shared in complicity about what had just happened. You knew he was happy but confused, just as you were. You didn’t know what to say, and knowing he didn’t either, you simply gave him a shy smile to let him know everything was okay, that he could do that a thousand times more from now on.

“Y/N…”

“What is it, Seb?”

You wanted him to tell you he loved you, that he’d left Hanna, and that he wanted you to be his new girlfriend, the love of his life.

But, instead, Seb looked at you and left you, once again, speechless:

“You’re not Hanna… and never will be her...”

After he said that, you felt nothing but your breath slipping away and the sensation of fainting.

You wanted to tell him everything you felt at that moment, but his words had hit you so hard that they only increased your confusion and pain.

All you could do was stare at him, likely making a fool of yourself with the amount of tears clouding your vision. Silence took over, and when you finally found the strength to speak, trying to hide the pain you knew your voice would show, he turned away without even saying goodbye.

"How the hell could you do that, Y/N?! You have no shame! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Kissing Sebastian like you don't care about your boyfriend... now I see what you're really up to."

You didn't have time to say anything or leave because Rosberg came running towards you, grabbing your arm with a force you'd never seen in him. It hurt, and your scream, which was more of a complaint from the pain than a surprise, was a way of expressing how much you were hurting, not just from the tight grip, but also from the shake he'd just given you.

"Nico, please, calm down..." you tried to calm him, not wanting to embarrass yourself. Some people were already looking at you, and you wished Earth would swallow you up. "It was just..."

"Don't play innocent!" he shouted too loudly. "You thought I wouldn't find out?! I saw you kissing that piece of shit who only wants to fuck you until he's bored of you," he said, referring to Seb. "Now everyone here knows what you really are: a whore! And I'm glad, Y/N… You have no idea how glad I am."

The music suddenly stopped blasting, but your boyfriend's anger didn’t.

"Nico... I love you, really," you tried to speak. "It was just a moment of weakness..."

The moment of weakness was exactly what you were feeling now, making him believe you were truly in love with him when, in fact, you were only staying in the relationship because you were afraid your reputation wouldn’t make it out alive. 

"You say you love me? Don't make me laugh! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t act like this."

You wanted to tell him that you thought the same about him, but you held back, paralyzed again by the fear that your mind was processing all the bad things that could happen.

"Nico, come on. You don’t have to act like this. We can talk about this civilly."

As you saw Edward, Vettel’s personal trainer, appear, and pull Nico a bit away from you, a little peace returned to your body. You gave him a grateful look, to which he just answered by nodding.

"You don’t have to get involved, Eddie!" your boyfriend shouted. "Stay out of our fucking business!"

"You know you don’t have to treat her like this," he said seriously.

"She’s a whore, can't you see it?" Nico spat, pointing at you. "Disgusting little girl..."

"Nico, I understand you're angry," Patterson spoke again, after the German’s words, "but neither of you is in a state to talk about this, and this is not the right place," he said, referring to the curious looks around them.

You could only constantly whisper for them not to fight anymore, while deep down you prayed to take you away from all of this and bring you back to the hotel.

"I don’t care what you say," Eddie started. "I'm taking Y/N. I don’t think being here is the best thing for her."

After saying that, he stood behind you and guided you, putting his hand on your back, toward his car. At that moment, your desperation was so great that you didn’t even think about whether he was in any condition to drive.

The way back to the hotel, less than ten minutes away, felt eternal.You hadn’t drunk much because you didn’t like it, but not being used to it was enough for a couple of curves and a badly taken roundabout to make you gag and feel like vomiting.

Slowly, the shock began to set in, and you started to act on autopilot mode, following the directions of the man accompanying you, except when he told you it would be best for you to sleep in his room that night.

You didn’t know why, but that set off alarms in your confused brain. The last thing you wanted was to add fuel to the fire by sleeping with another man who wasn’t your boyfriend just to protect you.

"Thanks for everything, Eddie, really, but I think it would be best if I went back to my room to sort things out with Nico."

The Brit didn’t seem to agree with you.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but I don’t think it’s best for you to share space with him tonight," he was honest.

"I just want to talk to him and try to put an end to this," you insisted, still knowing you weren't right.

"And I understand you, really, but right now everything is too fresh, and the best thing is for you to rest and let the drunkenness wear off," he said, placing one of your arms over his shoulders. "Come on, I’ll take you to my room."

You decided not to argue anymore because it would be in vain, so you let yourself be guided while he lectured you about how you shouldn’t be intimidated by Nico and how you deserved someone better than him after what had happened at the club that night.

"Edward, Y/N. Good night, guys."

You lifted your gaze and saw another Brit. Jenson was standing in front of you, coming out of the elevator you were about to take. You were greatly surprised that he wasn’t with his girlfriend, but didn’t want to get involved; your alcohol-soaked self, however, wanted to gossip.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the elevator doors so they couldn’t pass.

"I’m... taking Y/N to my room," Eddie revealed, stammering a bit for no clear reason. "She’s had a rough time, and it’s best that she doesn’t see Nico’s face tonight."

"And you think the best thing is that you take her to your room?"

Button’s features went from relaxed to a kind of aggression you had never seen in him. It’s not like you had spent much time or had many conversations together, but you knew the situation you were now involved in wasn’t what you had thought it was.

Edward Patterson stayed completely silent.

"Do you want me to call someone to be with you?" Jenson asked you directly, giving you no other option. "Y/N," he insisted again, "who do you want me to call to stay with you tonight?"

"Britta… please," you said as best as you could despite your discomfort.

To your surprise, while Jenson dialed the phone number of the woman you now considered your friend, Eddie let go of you and reluctantly pushed the driver, still leaning against the elevator frame, to leave. He didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to you, something that seemed to upset Button quite a bit.

"Hello, is this Britta?" Jenson began, speaking into the phone. "Great, yes. It’s Jenson. I’m with Y/N, and she asked if you could help her," he started explaining. "I don’t know much about what happened, except that she’s not feeling well and needs help from someone she really trusts," he clarified.

After exchanging a few more words, Jenson led you back to the lobby, where Britta appeared just a few minutes later in a bathrobe, espadrilles, and her hair tied up in a completely unusual way. You had never seen Roeske like that, and all you could do was laugh.

"Come on, let’s go already," Britta said, linking her arm with yours as if you were two old ladies heading to bingo. "This is how I want to see you: laughing, not crying."

When Britta opened the door to her room, you immediately ran and threw yourself onto the bed. Your whole body hurt, and you weren’t sure if it was from the emotions of the night or because the alcohol was hitting its peak.

Whatever it was, you knew perfectly well that lying completely still, face up, and counting the total number of tiles on the ceiling, pointing at them one by one with one eye closed and your tongue sticking out was what was making your hostess laugh.

"Come on, Y/N, get up," Britta asked gently. "Do you mind if I help you get changed? It’s time to put on your pajamas."

You nodded as you sat up and moved to the foot of the bed.

Next, Britta unzipped the dress, and you noticed how she averted her gaze to give you some privacy while offering a nightgown.

"Right now, I’d love for Seb to be the one undressing me to fuck me. God... how I’d love Seb to make me scream now..."

Had you said that out loud?

"What did you just say?"

Britta’s muffled shout and the tone in which she asked, while turning her back without caring whether you had already put the garment on, making you realize that yes, you had said that out loud.

Your first time being drunk was going to be, definitely, a night to remember. Now, you just felt like saying those kinds of things, and you didn’t care at all about having a boyfriend… if he could even be called that.

"Oh…" you said, stretching the last syllable. "Didn’t you know it?"

"Know what?"

By the tone of voice, it seemed Britta thought it was related to the sudden thing you had said.

"Seb and I kissed," you told her, starting to laugh like a lovesick teen.

"This is the alcohol on you, I’m sure of it," Britta said, running to get a wet towel and starting to wipe it across your face. "You mean you and Nico kissed," she tried to correct you. "Seb is dating Hanna, and you’re dating Nico, remember?"

You started shaking your head constantly, about to collapse to the floor. A laugh started escaping you as you couldn’t control it.

"No, no, no, no," you denied while also wagging your finger. "Seb and I kissed. Nico’s an asshole."

"Y/N, you really should go to sleep, you’re not..."

"Of course I’m fine!" you said enthusiastically, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Britta.

The truth was that you only felt fine because of the effect alcohol was having on you. If it wasn’t for that, you would be crawling on the floor crying because you knew you had reached a point where you couldn’t pretend your life was perfect anymore.

"Do you really not believe me when I say that not only did Seb kiss me, but it was the best kiss of my life?"

You knew you were putting Britta in a tough spot, especially considering that the woman was probably closer friends with Hanna than with you.

"And Hanna?" Britta demanded to know. "Was she there, or had she left?"

"Oh, she was there?" you tried to pretend the best you could, using expressions that clearly showed otherwise. "I didn’t know..."

Before you could continue speaking, Britta ran to grab her phone and started making calls. You sat back down, crossing your legs and swaying while watching the blonde desperately cursing in German, since none of the contacts she called were answering.

It was possible that Seb and Hanna were busy, probably having sex. Your drunk self only wished she was in Hanna’s place.

"The only ones who tell the truth are kids and drunks, you know?"

Britta stared at you after those words. It seemed like you needed to say that phrase to make her believe you.

"Are you serious...?" Britta asked.

"What, Britta?" you insisted, urging her to speak.

"Did you really kiss Sebastian?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you confirmed. "Well, I mean, he was the one who took my face and kissed me," you corrected yourself. "Do I owe anyone something, like he owes Hanna?"

You were getting a bit defensive, and you knew it was making Britta nervous.

"Yes! You owe Nico, your boyfriend," Britta replied, giving you a harsh dose of reality.

"I don’t want Nico," you confessed. "At least, not in the way I think I should. He... I don’t know, Britta. I think he’s what I deserve. I try to understand why, but I know that his insults and those things he says to me make me a better person somehow."

You could see Britta go pale. Also, you were starting to feel worse; after all, it was the first time you had opened up about your feelings to someone since the journal Seb gifted you for your birthday last didn’t count as a personal therapist.

Britta usually had words for everything, but that day, you seemed to have left her speechless.

"Y/N..." Britta began, carefully choosing her words. "You’re a good person. You’re just scared."

"Maybe," you replied, trying not to make it a big deal. "And you, are you scared?"

"Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something."

"I’m afraid of being alone," you admitted, lowering your head because you were starting to cry again for the umpteenth time that day. "And I’m afraid of losing Nico. I know no one will ever love me, not better or worse, than he does."

Britta didn’t know what to say, and you felt bad for having to be in her room, drunk, sad, while your “friend” was putting up with you, possibly mediating between her client and her client’s partner.

That’s why you made a move to leave. Fortunately, Britta wouldn’t let you.

"Sit down, Y/N, and let it all out," Britta demanded.

And that’s exactly what you did. You told Britta everything, not just about what had happened since you started dating your current boyfriend, but about your entire life. Living with a mentally sick mother after her accident, her subsequent suicide, their move to Barcelona. Her father’s cancer and how it had worsened in less than two years. All the things Rosberg had said and done to you, even forcing you to do certain stuff you were clearly uncomfortable with.

You cried like you never had before when you told Britta about your first time, reluctantly, on a luxury yacht in Monaco’s seas, and how it gave you nightmares almost every night to the point where she was scared to fall asleep.

You could tell that Britta was truly worried when you started biting your lower lip, and a little tic appeared in your right eye.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"Do you know I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her?"

You were fully aware that you had just avoided answering a crucial question, but you didn’t care at all. You were tired of talking about your burdens and your current life; from now on, you would focus entirely on your future and try to solve and finish once and for all all the problems that made your life a mess.

"But what are you saying, Y/N?" Britta asked, desperate.

"That’s exactly what I would have liked to ask Seb, but he left and Nico messed things up," you revealed, stretching your arms out and pointing to the marks, now red, that were the same shape and size as Mercedes’ driver’s fingers. "Great, yeah," you said ironically.

"But..."

"Do you think if I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her, I might have a chance to date Seb?"

Your question left Britta speechless again, unable to find the words. As Britta struggled to speak, you started playing with your fingers. Giving up, you laid on the bed, your back to Britta, clutching a pillow with the clear intention of falling asleep.

"Why are you telling me this?" Britta asked in a whisper, almost with... pity.

"Because I want Seb," you revealed, letting out a sob because, at last, you had been able to confront and reveal your confusing feelings for a guy who didn’t love you, and never would. "I’m in love with Seb, and it hurts knowing he’ll never love me back, and I know I’ll have to move on sooner or later."

Britta was about to speak, but you took the words from her before she could.

"Before you say anything else, take advantage of me and ask me anything you want: I’m a bit drunk because I’m not used to drinking."

You could tell Britta sighed, likely having lost all patience with you.

"You know... you know that Seb...?"

But then Britta stopped talking. You stood there for a while, staring at the red curtains that covered the window, waiting for the woman to continue. When she didn’t, you turned around:

"You know exactly what about Seb, Britta?" you asked, adjusting yourself on the bed, still hugging the pillow.

"Seb and you need to talk," Britta told you, leaving you speechless. "And when you do that, I’m convinced that you’re going to live the life you both deserve."

"But..."

Britta started to lie you down on the bed again, tucking you in under the linen sheets. Your yawns became more frequent, and after she kissed your forehead just like her mother used to do before your life was destroyed, your eyelids grew heavy.

"I know you won’t remember this tomorrow," Britta’s voice flooded your ears as you curled up into yourself. "But, to Seb, it’s more than obvious that you’re not Hanna and you’ll never be… And that’s exactly why that stupid, but incredible guy, has fallen truly, madly, deeply, in love with you."

You couldn’t tell if Britta’s words were already a dream, or if Morpheus was pulling you into his arms. 

"The day you stop doubting your worth, the world will be at your feet, Y/N. Sebastian has been telling me that and his closest people since you two spent the night together the day before his maiden win in Monza."

[ultra-violetra]

the reason why red team wins isn’t because they submit tasks last minute. that isn’t even the biggest part of their strategy, so let me tell you what red is doing to win:

delegating tasks: each member has spent most of their time collecting whatever resource the team needs. they work together to come up with specific goals (eg. enchantment table, mining iron, getting string) and then send specific people out to do that task, usually whoever’s free at the moment

helping each other: they would all drop everything at a moment’s notice to help a teammate in trouble

sharing resources: red team shares literally everything they own. most notably, bings and personal quest items

personal tasks: they all help each other out to finish these, and they make sure everyone active gets them done. i think a good chunk of their points come from this category actually, since the other teams don’t seem to prioritize it as much

not seeking fights: ok sure, they’ve gotten in a decent amount of fights, but usually the fight comes to them. they aren’t spending their time searching for people to kill, rather most of their kills have been from running into others in the wild or at spawn (foolish did spend time looking for tina today, but that was mostly looking for blue base as a strategic point)

using time wisely: to kind of add onto the point above, they aren’t spending all their time walking thousands of blocks to others’ bases. they also are very communicative about how much time they have left and what to use it for. they’ll ask how they can help the team with their last ten minutes, for instance

communicating: red team spends almost their entire time on the server in a vc together. I know this isn’t exactly every creator’s thing, but they could still type in chat if they didn’t want to talk. red team have even been leaving discord messages to their teammates to tell them info when they’re not online!

varying their points: i think this is the most important thing tbh. instead of only focusing on tasks or kills, etc. they do a little bit of every. they make sure to do well in every possible point category

being silly: it’s the best part!! the silliness boosts team morale

seriously though, the red team doesn’t just sweep the win at the last minute. if that was true then they wouldn’t log in until the last ten minutes. all the active members spend their 5 hours (or however long they’re playing that day) working on gathering materials and being useful for the team. the only advantage they have from being online later is they know how many points they need to get to catch up. so they can sort of measure how many kills or resources they’d need, etc. but knowing what they need doesn’t guarantee they’ll get it. the red team puts a lot of hard work into their wins it’s not just a cheap sweep. they are clever, resourceful, and strategic

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo for Think Big Picture:

We’re all still grieving the electoral loss and feeling queasy about the prospect of Trump returning to the White House in January. But in response to the giddy pronouncements from the GOP and the Trump campaign, some have already begun to think about an effective political resistance to Trump and Trumpism. 

Democrats need to make these plans knowing full well that Trump will be backed by a sycophantic GOP Congress and blank check-writing SCOTUS. And this time around, there won’t be any adults in the room, including White House counsel who during his first term would quietly shelve Trump’s most outrageous requests, or chiefs of staff like John Kelly who would struggle to moderate, educate and soften his most extreme positions. No, this time around Trump will be surrounded by people even further to the right of him. They will seek to implement the most dangerous and destructive of policies, many drawn from the Project 2025 blueprint. And they will encourage Trump to issue Executive Orders that could reshape American democracy, insert our armed forces deeply into civil affairs, hurtle our economy into an abyss, and upend the lives of millions of minorities.

This is a thought piece, an early stab (and work in progress) about how Democrats (and the lawyers who are aligned with them) can ready themselves to resist Trump. We’re in very new territory here, but the ideas are based on what we’ve learned about Trump from both his first term and the four years he’s been more or less idle when he wasn’t sitting in courtrooms or stumping on the campaign trail. They play into both his ego and the worst aspects of his character and leadership style. I hope you find this early exploration a good starting point for how the next four years could go if Democrats play their cards smartly, even if the strategy seems highly unorthodox. Note that I won’t be discussing what average citizens might consider doing. This, for now, is the beginning of a political and legal strategy. Others involved in grassroots organizing may have ideas for direct resistance by citizens, but that is for another discussion.

[...]

Hit ‘em with lawfare

One of the most effective weapons against Trump’s policies during his first term was the slew of lawsuits that his executive orders met when they were first announced. Remember the Muslim ban? That bounced up and down the courts for years before it could finally go into effect in a watered-down form. 

Lawyers from every non-profit walk of life should be readying civil complaints today, just as people like Russ Vought are already preparing horrific executive orders for Trump to sign. The minute Trump announces his Day One policy to deport millions of undocumented migrants, for example, lawyers everywhere should file suit. It shouldn’t just be one suit; it should be several. Tie up the White House lawyers and the Trump Justice Department with as many cognizable claims as they can think of. More than the sheer number, they should file these cases before judges in jurisdictions where the appellate courts will be more friendly, such as in the Ninth Circuit. This is the inverse of what MAGA and Christian Nationalist legal counsel have been doing now for years by picking a single court near Amarillo, Texas to ensure their cases are heard before radical judge Matthew Kacsmaryk.

Once those cases are filed, judges (and their clerks) should slow-walk them. Act like the nun in The Sound Of Music, opening the gate as slowly as she can so the Nazis are delayed. Then, after issuing temporary restraining orders, set the hearings out as far as possible. Have the lawyers demand extensions. File motions that could receive interlocutory appeals, to further gum things up. In short, drag things out as long as possible to prevent his policies from going into effect. Governors in blue border states could also get involved. California and Arizona both have Democratic governors, after all. And they also have Democratic state attorneys general. These states could move to intervene in suits or file them on their own, just as the red states have done to block Biden’s policies like student debt relief. Sure, this will eventually get up to the Supreme Court and get overturned, but the point is delay. Run out the clock, run out the clock, run out the clock. Trump only gets four years, two before the midterms. [...]

These are but a few broad-stroke ideas, but it’s time everyone who will be part of the resistance start thinking about how they can play a vital part in pushing back. Some of these tactics are admittedly unorthodox, others quite petty. Still others are variations on what has worked well before. Together, they could bog down or distract Trump and the White House just long enough for the midterms to give Democrats a chance to regain control of one or both chambers and really turn up the heat.

It may make many quite uncomfortable to consider deploying these kinds of strategies. They make Democrats into obstructionists, even political saboteurs, much as the GOP has been for the few cycles when Democrats have been in charge.  But here there is a difference, though it’s one MAGA Republicans will never acknowledge: When actual fascists have taken control of the government and are trying to destroy democracy, patriotic opponents must use every peaceful means at their disposal to prevent them. Indeed, it is a moral imperative, because millions of lives are on the line. We cannot act as if the world has not changed, and Democrats must grow far more accustomed to acting outside the box and getting creative in their approaches.

It’s time for Democrats to play rough by delaying and gumming up Donald Trump’s tyrannical proposals to run the clock down.

[cerastes]

can i get other examples of gamepress being wrong about arknights? i've been using them as my main source since i started and now i'm worried i'm missing out on some operators i haven't bothered to upgrade 🙃

We could be here literally all day because it's not like they have one or two outliers, Gamepress is just mainly edited by people that live in an echo chamber and that have authority in their own circle so it's just off-the-hip, all too often wrong biased takes based on their own really reductive metrics. Chiefly, Gamepress ranks characters 1) as if they were the sole unit in the battlefield almost exclusively, and 2) using the single most broken units currently live as the barrier of entry. The unit you are looking up can't clear a chunk of map in one tap? Worthless and sub-optimal, according to Gamepress. Their only metric is Mlynar, Ch'ung the Hung, Surtr, that kind of Press To Win philosophy, and if a unit can't do that, Then It's Bad And Not Worth It.

Now, you may be thinking, "goodness me, Dreamer, you are being awfully harsh to call them complete dogshit at every angle of the game in this manner!", well, see, it's not just their Operator "reviews", they have articles sometimes. And they are god awful dogshit as well, such as "What Happened To Blaze?"

You can't see the comments anymore, but the author was getting reamed. I have one screenie at least:

Comments were mainly of this nature. Because, well, the article is straight up awful, especially since it reduces Blaze to "laneholder" and compares her to "competition" like Thorns, Mudrock, and Mountain, who, yes, they all can hold a lane, but Blaze has her own space of "infinite duration, high statline, healable 3-block with 2 tile range" that has historically allowed for Funny Tricks like clearing enemies through "walls" on tiles that could shred Thorns even with a healer, or, you know, in conjunction with any of Mudrock or Mountain, given you have 12 whole slots for you team. Again, Gamepress editors rate characters as if they were your main in a fighting game and not one of 12+1 characters you can throw in at any time. They also tend to shit on non-specialist characters (generalists; more versatile units that can do a bunch of things without really breaking the game in any regard), which is very interesting because those usually will make up a strong backbone of any competent Integrated Strategies team, so the specialists in role can do their thing while the other needs of the map are being met.

"Ebenholz is nothing special." "Goldenglow is nothing special." These are takes they genuinely held until, you know, it turned out that Eben and GG are the most relevant Casters, up there with Eyja. To be fair, it wasn't just them being wrong on Eben, but how do you look at the global blasting of GG with her numbers and don't immediately realize that's an ICBM button? All it takes is having the game installed.

The biased nature of Gamepress is also blatant:

Imagine rating April as "Really Good" while relegating Dorothy as only "Really Fun". Even before her Module3, Dorothy was absolutely devastating, bringing huge damage multipliers, crowd control, one of the single best class autoattacks in the whole game at 6* stat weight, and a Talent that gives her even more Attack for basically using her as intended. I'm not saying April isn't good, mind you, I'm just trying to highlight how biased the hands behind Gamepress are: They can't figure out Trapmasters? Then surely they are merely "really fun". Can't drop and forget them like April or Surtr, after all.

About the only thing Gamepress is good for is objective, in-game info: Dates, mat requirements, what skills do, that kind of stuff. It's got a good interface and is a good place to just quickly look up what you need to know that can otherwise be found in the game. The moment their personal opinions come into play, though? The most absolute dogshit takes. Unless you are a "unga bunga drop Surtr and Mlynar and win instan-- WAIT WHY IS INTEGRATED STRATEGIES AND RISK 23+ KICKING MY DAY 1 PLAYER ASS...!?" kinda player, then you don't really want to follow Gamepress advice.

Because they simply do not give good advice as a whole.

[tmntheadcanons]

tmnt 2003 headcanons: board game night

Raph:

Never wins

He's terrible and will almost always come in last

His problem is that he's impatient so if the game requires any strategy or thinking ahead he just won't

He begrudgingly agrees to play a board game to humor everyone but then he gets too invested

Sometimes he will get too into it and he will unintentionally be so loud. You can hear him yelling from the next room and you're like "omg what are they doing in there?" and they are playing scrabble

He's debating with Donatello if his made-up word counts

Him and Mikey have a near fist fight over who gets to be the car in monopoly every time.

He also pulls risky plays, he will put everything on the line on his first turn

At the end of monopoly night he's left defeated in jail, in shambles with one monopoly dollar left to his name, a shell of the man he once was

He plays as the dog because Mikey threatened to eat the car if he didn't get it

Donnie:

Reads the instructions out loud but no one is actually listening so he has to explain the rules to everyone like five times

He is the board game referee and his word is law. He is the only thing stopping the evening from turning into an all out brawl

Donnie likes boring math games that no one else knows how to play (Mikey's words)

(He's talking about cribbage)

Donnie will put up a good fight, especially if it's a logic based game

But he over thinks and plays too cautiously

And when he isn't playing a round he will hover over someone's shoulder and tell them what to do

And no one likes to play trivia games with Donnie because he's too good

In monopoly he plays as the thimble

Leo:

Leo is dangerous because when they play board games he sits politely and looks like he's just quietly enjoying himself but he's actually watching

He's plotting

He picks up on everyone else's strategy and then destroys them one by one

He gets progressively more unhinged as the game progresses

No mercy

He just will sit there with a polite grin on his face while he bankrupts his own brother (in monopoly)

And then as soon as it's finally over he just sits there and is like "So are we playing another round?"

In monopoly he plays as the top hat

Mikey:

With Mikey it could go either way, he will either be eliminated in 10 seconds or he will do surprisingly well. It really depends on the game. Mikey can be strategic, it just depends on if he's interested in the game.

I feel like Mikey likes games that have a bit of a story to them and if they don't he will make one

In monopoly Mikey will create a narrative and then try to use it to guilt his brother's into not making him pay

He'll be like "Please. I am but a humble commoner. I need this money to feed my family of eight. If you take it my children will surely starve. Do you want their blood on your hands, Leonardo?"

But also he would trade his real-life brothers for 10 monopoly dollars

Like Raph, he's also impatient and tends to just wing it but he has better luck than Raph, and he subconsciously picks up on other player's strategies

If he is giving 100% effort he might be able to give Leo a run for his money

In monopoly he refuses to play as anything other than the car

[f0point5]

People are SO upset with Max knowing the rule book and knowing when and how to push the limits of the rules. They say that his late braking in the turn which left him wide and off track and thus pushing lando off track isn't fair but like it wasn't illegal and maybe if lando hadn't gunned it outside the turn and overtook off the track to gain the advantage and therefore a penalty (WHICH was reduced from 10 to 5 by the FIA) there would be a different conversation being had. Also Max did the exact same thing Lando did to Kimi in 2017 and lost the podium because of it so like he learned from his mistakes. Just because Lando hasn't or isn't able to push the limits of the FIA Rules doesn't mean that Max needs to adapt to Lando's driving style and let him through.

Thing is, it’s fair enough to say the rule needs to be looked at. Because anyone can “get ahead at the apex” by just refusing to brake at all, getting ahead artificially with no idea how to maintain that speed, go off track, and then get a free reset because the other guy can’t make the overtake. You can say that’s not a good rule to have and say the stewards should look at it. But until they change it…you can do that, it’s legal. Is it a high risk strategy? Yeah. But you can do it if you have nothing to lose.

Max knows it’s legal because it happened to him before.

Lando even said himself that he wasn’t as committed as he could have been. He was close enough to make the overtake but it wasn’t 100% and if you’re going to go wheel to wheel with Max you better be able to make it on your own because he won’t help you. For better or worse that’s the way it’s always been and if you don’t like that driving style fair enough but it’s still not illegal.

Max has been playing these loopholes his whole career and people are always reaching for their pearls like “oh he has always done these reckless moves” yes and he’s three time WDC so the sport is telling you this is what racing is. If you don’t agree with the definition you need to go and watch Indy car or something there’s other series.

“He knows the rules very well” is not a burn? Why can’t the other 19 drivers read? Or maybe they do read and they don’t want to take the risks. Regardless…that’s a self own there Jenson.

And again, none of this is directed at Lando because he took the whole thing so well and kudos to him but his fan base inside the paddock was awash with this mock outrage and like???

[lassieposting]

So on the back of my headcanon about the Prototype more or less raising CatNap, I've been watching someone play Project Playtime for the first time, and I'm fucking yelling

If you play as the monster, the Prototype literally teaches you (as Huggy Wuggy) how to hunt. He's the one giving the tutorial instructions.

And honestly? The vibe I got from that "interaction" is that Prototype likes children. More than that: Prototype is good with children.

Project Playtime takes place in the intervening decade between the Hour of Joy massacre and the start of the main game. Based on the fact that Huggy needs the Prototype's guidance, it's probably fairly early in that period - he's not used to hunting for himself yet. So Huggy here is a monster with limited intelligence - he's the most 'animal' experiment we've seen, though he is still able to write - and the soul of a child.

And the Prototype tailors his lessons appropriately. Like, I trained to work with kids, and he uses essentially the same approach I would to teach a young or special needs child a new skill.

Simple Instructions: what Prototype is teaching Huggy here is, at its core, strategy and tactical thinking, and that's a subject he seems to understand well and know a lot about. A more intelligent experiment - like, say, young CatNap - might ask a lot of questions, and Prototype could probably give them long, in-depth explanations of why doing X thing prompts Y response or why Z tactic is useful. But Huggy isn't on that level, so Prototype keeps his instructions and explanations short, concise and easy to understand.

No Guesswork: Huggy, described as having only "sufficient" intelligence post-transformation, likely has limited capacity for complex thought. Where CatNap might be encouraged to think ahead for himself and suggest problems that could arise, Huggy would struggle. So Prototype gives him all the information he needs: here are the ways the humans will try to avoid or harm or mislead you, and here are the ways you can fight back. He even points out little tips that might seem obvious, like listening for the breathing of a hiding worker, because he knows that might not occur independently to Huggy.

Positive Reinforcement: When Huggy successfully incapacitates a human player, Prototype laughs and praises him, treating a potentially upsetting conflict like a fun game. Once Huggy has gotten rid of all the human players and won the match, Prototype tells him he did a good job and that he can rest now.

The Bad News Sandwich: One technique I was taught for dealing with young children is that when you have to give them upsetting or disappointing news, sandwiching it between two good things limits the distress it will cause. And Prototype does this twice with Huggy:

[Praises Huggy for catching a player and putting him in the food chute] [warns Huggy that the other players could try to rescue their friend] [offers a way to stop them doing that]

[Praises Huggy for clearing out the factory] [tells Huggy that more humans will return] [reassures Huggy that for now, he can rest and relax]

Anyway. Prototype taught at least one child-aged experiment to fend for itself and defend the factory: confirmed. And so, scenarios I'm now picturing with Prototype and little CatNap: this

I'm also 👀👀👀 at the fact that like. While it's directly stated that while his main motive for having the experiments attack the Project Playtime workers is to stop them making more creatures, he's got a secondary motive in that he's using the Bigger Bodies mascots *to gather food for the smaller toys*. The larger toys may have become hostile towards the smaller, weaker, "prey" toys, but the Prototype seems to be at least trying to provide for them, albeit in the only fucked-up way available to him.

Anyway I just think that's really interesting considering he's been implied to be the game's ultimate Big Bad. I think there's more to him than we've been told

[magicaii]

The fact that when tsukasa tenma experiences something highly traumatic he instantly zeroes in on what he did wrong to end up in that situation, drills into his head how to avoid experiencing something like that again in the future, and immediately tries to forget the event ever happening because it’s not only a reminder of his failure but the memory would also cripple his self value enough to hinder his ability to be the person people expect him to and move forward with a new lesson learned to avoid being traumatized again. The problem with this is that you can’t forget your trauma, because then you’ll never be able to fully process what happened to you and recognize what effect it has on your life and outlook. Tsukasa is never able to do this because he does his damndest best to completely erase the memory. When someone has trauma, it’s a completely normal response to come up with a strategy or solution to deal with the damage you’ve been dealt, whether it’s simply withdrawing from those feelings inwardly or acting outwardly in a way to make sure it can’t hurt or affect you again. The problem is that these aren’t healthy patterns, and you’re supposed to get help so that you can acknowledge what happened and move PAST it. Tsukasa is so adamant to pretend shit never took place that he is stuck in this horribly unhealthy phase with terrible mechanisms to get through it all, and since he never processes his trauma has even taken it to the next level by piling it on and on every time something new happens. Saki forced herself to smile because of me? I can never disappoint someone again. The audience didn’t enjoy our play? I said I wouldn’t disappoint people anymore, so I can’t believe I did it again, I have to double down now. The troupe broke up and it’s my fault? I let them down as a leader, I need to take on every burden by myself so that I’m the one solely responsible for everything and I will make sure nothing goes wrong again. Thing is, all these feelings are valid to a certain extent, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to disappoint people and feeling remorseful when you make them upset. It’s just not good when you’re basing all your worth as a person on how well you live up to peoples standards. He’s so fixated on how well he “performs” that his behaviour becomes EXTREMELY erratic when he is faced with his own failure. Sometimes he straight up lashes out or retracts, both so different from his usual demeanour that people are utterly taken back to the point where even if they are concerned about tsukasa they find it hard to say anything because it’s almost like dealing with an entirely different person. I don’t know how to wrap this up but he’s so mentally ill and I feel that people overlook it a lot because he’s also a comedic character.

[blues824]

Would it be possible to ask for the Housewardens from Twisted Wonderland having an s/o who's a lot like Kozume Kenma from Haikyuu? I didn't see Haikyuu in the fandoms you write for but I saw a request for Hinata Shoyo!Reader so I'm a little confused.

I don’t write for the Fandom Haikyuu!, but I will write about a reader/OC based on a character from that Fandom. This goes for any Fandom not on my Fandom list.

Gender neutral reader who is not Yuu, but is from Yuu’s world.

Riddle Rosehearts 

You were quiet and more reserved, much like the King of Hearts. He didn’t care for the video games that took your attention away from him, but there were worse hobbies (i.e. causing trouble with the ADeuce duo). As long as you showed respect for him and the rules, all is well.

When you told the first years that they didn’t need to show you any formalities as their upperclassman, your boyfriend nearly lost it. In his mind, the first years were of the lowest rank and needed to show their respect, especially if it was his significant other. As his ‘co-ruler’, you needed to be held in the highest regard.

He thought you were very shy at first, and it wasn’t until you played in the Spelldrove tournament where he saw your more competitive side. It threw him in for a loop, to say the least. You later admitted that you didn’t care at all for the sport even though you carried the team. You said that you wanted to win because of your friends, and the young Rosehearts boy thought it was admirable.

If you continued to play volleyball, Riddle would support you to the fullest degree. He would be at each and every practice and game, cheering the loudest. He would force the entire dorm to support you as well, and volleyball has now become a huge sport at NRC thanks to you.

Leona Kingscholar

He hated the fact that you played video games constantly, as it stole your attention all the time. He’s touch starved, don’t you know? Plus, you were his herbivore. He was losing to a freaking device. This jealousy came from a place of insecurity, because how could he compete with a game?

Leona doesn’t really care if you wish to skip formalities with the First Years. Hell, it might actually be a benefit to Savanaclaw, since they would be more comfortable with you. But, now that he thinks more about it, the more he dislikes the idea. Not only were you an unofficial member of royalty by being his significant other, but he doesn’t want you getting close to anyone besides himself.

The first time he saw your more competitive side was in-game. You were definitely fast and agile, and you definitely carried the entire freaking team. Savanaclaw still got 2nd, but y’all lost only by 1 point to Diasomnia. Leona wasn’t even mad about it, he was mad at how his team just relied on you to do everything.

If you decide to introduce volleyball to NRC, the young prince would support you both financially and practically. He might even take up the sport, as long as you were his teacher. He wouldn’t mind some ‘personal lessons’ either~. 

Azul Ashengrotto

He doesn’t care that you play video games until you are pretty far into your relationship with each other. He gets kind of clingy, especially after a rough day, and all he wants is your undivided attention and affection as a reward. How cruel you must be to deny him of a simple request such as this.

Azul doesn’t mind you ditching formalities with the First Years, as it’s very likely that you both have special nicknames for each other. It might be a bit weird for him to get used to at first, though. In addition to that, you are very close to the FY’s, adopting them as your ‘younger brothers’. 

In the Spelldrive tournament, you were on Octavinelle’s team, and you were a beast. Your beloved cecaelia was watching from the bleachers, and he noticed that  you were quick on your feet and good at making quick strategies on the field. One of the other players got a bloody nose because you shoved them face-first into the grass. Needless to say, you were the MVP.

When you voiced your desire to bring volleyball to NRC, he was worried about you getting hurt. However, he’s not going to stop you from playing. He will blackmail Crowley so that he establishes a volleyball club next year, and you start making plans for the next year. Azul helps you, and he becomes a sponsor for your beloved sport.

Kalim Al-Asim

He doesn’t know much about video games, but he’s definitely willing to learn about them! In addition to that, he’s the kind of guy who would get you the newest video game and keep track of when certain updates or sequels come out just so you don’t have to. He puts it all in his calendar that’s shared with you.

Kalim also doesn’t use any formalities with the First Years, so it would be hypocritical of him to judge you for doing the same thing. Any students going into Scarabia are put at ease because of you, and grow excited and eager because of your boyfriend.

You most definitely carried the dorm’s Spelldrive team, and it upset your lover because he was worried that either you or Jamil would get hurt. You did great, and he made sure to tell you that, but he knew that his dorm members would have to train harder so that they didn’t rely on you or his Vice Housewarden.

I think this man remembers small things about you, like how you mentioned that you liked to play volleyball. He had never heard of that sport, so he will ask you a bunch of questions about it. He even wants to learn, and that’s the start of your little club.

Vil Schoenheit

This man simply does not have the time for such frivolous things like video games. He has done some voice acting for some, though, to get some more experience with being a VA. Your obsession with video games is something he doesn’t understand, but he does feel a swell of pride in his chest whenever he hears a character that he voiced.

You not forcing formalities upon the First Years is a very foreign concept to him. He definitely makes them use the proper honorifics when addressing himself, as it is a sign of respect and superiority. However, if you don’t want that, he won’t make them use them for you. 

He had never gotten to experience your competitive side until the Spelldrive tournament. Vil was glad that you were playing for Pomefiore, considering you destroyed almost everyone. You placed the dorm in 3rd place behind Diasomnia and Savanaclaw. You later explained that you had no interest in the sport, and only tried because you loved him. You truly were a flatterer.

If you wanted to bring volleyball into Twisted Wonderland, your best bet is to get Vil into it as well. He has a shit-ton of followers on Magicam, and he will have you make instructional videos with him so that the sport gets tons of popularity. He enjoys it a lot, too.

Idia Shroud

A literal match made in Olympus. You both bond over gaming, and probably met each other online through a lobby. You both simp over the same characters, you main the same characters, you help each other out, and Idia just loves you so much because you understand him.

No one ever really sees him, but when they do they use the proper formalities that come with him being the Ignihyde Housewarden as well as an upperclassman. He might just wear a sign that says that they don’t have to, since the honorifics freak him out. You often have to be there to calm him down and explain to the younger students that you both can be called just by your first names.

The first time he got to see your really fierce side was when you were playing for Ignihyde in the Spelldrive tournament. You carried the team, but your strategy was pristine and your boyfriend definitely noticed. Mans was jotting down notes quicker than Usain Bolt can run.

If you tell him that you wanted to start playing volleyball again, he would build a court simulation that could allow you to get practice in. Then, it could be used to teach other students how to play. Idia tried it once, and found that he absolutely did not like it. The only good thing was how you played with his ponytail as you tried to comfort him.

Malleus Draconia

He does not understand video games at all, nor does he understand your obsession over them. He often finds it frustrating that he has to constantly compete against a device he knows nothing about for your attention. Finally, a worthy adversary.

Malleus wishes to have a close connection with the younger students, but his retainers refuse and say that it could disrupt his image as the Crowned Prince and Rightful Heir to the Throne of Briar Valley. He is often jealous when you tell the First Years that they can throw away the honorifics when talking to and about you. 

When he found out that you made it onto the Diasomnia Spelldrive team, he was angry. You could get hurt was all that was going through his mind. However, he was surprised at how fast you were and how quickly you were able to make decisions on the spot. You both ruled over the field, to say the least. Diasomnia won by a large margin.

The second that you tell him that you want to teach people to play volleyball, he is all in for it. Training for his dorm starts the next day, and he will use his power to make sure that Crowley supports your dream. He is a very quick learner, but he will make sure that he gets something wrong in his stance so that you could touch him in order to fix it.

[totallyunidentified]

Auntie Omega

A/n This is dedicated to my best friend who gave me this idea and let me run with it.

Omega lives to see the fall of the Empire and the rise of the First Order. She joins Leia and helps train pilots for the resistance. 

This is a part one of what I’m hoping to make a longer series

I hope you enjoy!!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Leia, I'm just about done.”

Omega looks at her old friend who she had been fighting alongside since the early days of the Rebellion. In the years between the Empire’s fall and the first order’s rise the two had always been friends. Wrinkles had started to show on her face as much as they did on her own.Growing up and old together. Leia had accompanied Omega to visit Pabu many times, and was with Omega when she returned home the three times when it was the hardest. She had held her as she cried and reminded her that, though her brothers were gone, she was not alone. She would always have her fellow Rebels and she’d always have Leia.

“I don’t know why you would think that, You know as well as I do these pilots aren’t gonna train themselves. I need you here, Mega.”

“I know, I know,” Omega chuckles. “I just want to retire to Pabu, like my brothers did. I’ve had twice as many years as they got, I want to be able to put fresh flowers on their markers and watch Batcher’s great grand pups play on the beach. Wrecker’s kids aren’t getting any younger, I want to see them grow.”

They’d had this conversation before, sitting at this very briefing table. Omega felt done. The First Order was relentless and she didn’t want to lose any more people she loved. She fiddles with the necklace around her neck as Leia speaks.

“How ‘bout this? I’ve got this one kid — huge pain in my ass,you’ll love him — he needs training. He’s already good but you can make him great.”

“You are trying to appeal to my ego,”

“Is it working?”

“….yes,” Omega grumbles as Leia laughs

“Listen Megs, this kid is crazy. You were trained by crazy.”

“Hey!”

“You said that yourself! Crazy knows crazy so I need you to train him. You’ll like him, I promise. You’ve trained all my best pilots. Who was that last girl? Hillary? Holland? Oh, Holly! That’s it. You made her one of our best. She’s just about as good as Luke was, you know.”

Omega sighs, leaning more onto the table.

“Fine. But if he's a little shit then you owe me dinner.”

“Add it to my tab,” Leia laughs and stands up, motioning for Omega to follow her. They walk out of the briefing room and down the hall to the hangar, passing many who either greet or salute them as they pass. Both women smile and salute in return. Everyone on base had almost grown up with Aunt Omega and General Leia. If they hadn’t then they were surprised to find that Omega would adopt them eventually.

If Omega didn’t personally adopt you then she found you others who would be your family. She knew what it felt like to be isolated while surrounded by people. If she saw you sitting by yourself then she made sure to send someone else over and would make you start talking to each other. Omega always had an uncanny ability to bring people together exactly how they needed it.

As they walk into the hangar they squint as the bright sun comes through the open hangar doors.They hear it before they see it. Two figures, one man and one woman, both human,both in flight suits. Pilots. The space between them narrows as their voices get louder.

“You can’t shut off the karking engine mid-flight!” the woman yells up at the man in front of her.

“With enough altitude and, oh I dunno, life and death, then yes! I can!” the man yells back.

The pair is nearly nose-to-nose by the time Omega steps in.

“You two! Holly, you’ve got a cooler head than this.Tell me what's going on.”

“This nerfherder thinks that shutting the engines off would make for an effective escape strategy.”

“In the sky, or out in space?”

“In the sky, Aunt Mega. He’s got a kriffing death wish.”

Omega looks at the young man,standing there with his arms crossed and chest heaving. He’s ready for a fight.

“Well? In the sky would you turn your engine off?”

“He said tha—”

Omega holds up her hand, quietening Holly immediately.

“No. I want to hear this from him. It is his idea after all. So Mr. Trouble-maker…”

“Poe.”

“Gesundheit. Mr. Trouble-maker, care to explain why you think killing your engines in the middle of a battle would help you in any way?” Omega questions.

Poe thinks over his answer before beginning what she knew would be a long-winded speech bloated with chest-puffing and exaggeration. She knew both well.

“Well, as I was saying to my lovely acquaintance — Holly, was it —,if you’re skilled enough, a pilot could kill your engines only halfway and dropped behind enemy fighters and become the one doing the chasing.”

He finishes his explanation with a nod to a glowering Holly and turns his gaze back to the woman in front of him.

Poe had heard of the “Aunt Omega” of base camp. In her eyes there was a sparkle that spoke of wisdom, kindness, and love. Her hair is white as Hoth, held back by a red bandana,her face covered in laugh-lines that were evidence of a good life full of happiness. Everyone said that she was kind, loving, caring, and more. They also said she was hard-headed, extremely quick, and took no bullshit from anyone.

“Your response, Holly?” Omega turns to Holly looking to create a discussion instead of an argument.

“I said bullshit because your engines wouldn’t be able to turn off and then back on quickly enough to escape.”

“Half off,” Poe snaps back.

“Oh yeah well I’m gonna cut half your—“

Holly isn’t able to finish her sentence before Omega stops her once again.

“Thrusters.”

“Pardon?” Poe looks at Omega incredulously

“Not the engine but the thrusters. You have to lower the thrusters and pull back if you even hope to dream of finishing that tight of a turn.Technically, it could be possible if you lowered your thrusters to slow down already but kept the engines primed when you shut them off. And then turned them back on and immediately throttled all the way up.” Omega says, rubbing her chin in thought, though she already knows the answer. Her brother had taught her this years ago.

Poe turns to Holly and very maturely sticks his tongue out. She flips him off in return.

“All right, all right. Since you two have decided to be as immature as possible, why don't you test this out?”

“Mega, I don't know if that's a good idea,” Leia tries to start before Omega shoots her a trust me look.

“Those two x-wings have your names on them. Troublemaker, you get to test your theory and if you’re wrong, Holly you get to take out your frustrations in a game of tag,”

“Tag? What are we, twelve?”

“Did you play tag in x-wings at twelve years old?”

“Wouldn't you like to know, flyboy”

“Real mature.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Leia and Omega watch the two bicker before looking at each other and laughing, grinning at the next generation of youngsters who would be taking their places.

“If you two are done, I want to see what you’re made of. Go.”

The pilots shoot one last glare at each other before racing to their x-wings,throwing on their helmets, each one trying to beat the other to their ship. They carefully race through their pre-flight checks obviously safety is a large concern when playing tag with an X-wing.

“I’ll give you a couple seconds head start, Troublemaker.” Holly can be heard throughout the hangar, Omega turns and sees that there is a group starting to form around a radio connected to the com systems.

“The name’s Poe.”

“Is it?”

“Fifty credits the new kid eats it, Holly’s got this,” one mechanic says as he and another pull up crates for the growing crowd to sit on.

As Holly takes off she makes eye contact with Omega, giving her a two fingered salute.

“See? Crazy needs crazy,” Leia comments as they turn their attention to Poe who had been doing some tricks to warm up.

“You said he could fly, what is it that he's doing now? That's just fancy flippage and twirling.”

“Meh, he's got the foundation. I need you to help build the rest.”

They both practice for several minutes, getting comfortable in their fighters before hearing Omega’s voice through the speakers.

“Alright, I want a nice clean game. The guns are set to simulation so you can shoot as normal without messing up those beautiful paint jobs. Three tags and you're out. Got it?”

“Affirmative Auntie.”

Silence…

“Troublemaker?”

“It's not— ugh! Nevermind, yeah got it,”

The two fighters swing away from each other. The crowd on the ground cheers as Holly spins and hits the accelerator immediately closing in on Poe,

“Tag! You’re it!” Her joyous shout can be heard over the coms. The responding muttered string of curses isn't heard as clearly over the audience’s cheers for their friend.

“That’s one for Holly! Troublemaker, I’m still waiting to see that fancy trick of yours.”

The two fighters round back at each other, playing a game of chicken before they pull away and turn in opposite directions. This time it’s Poe chasing Holly as they zoom through the sky. She manages to evade him for a while as the sun gets lower and lower.

Leia and Omega sit by the radio as more people drop off, leaving to go finish work or rest in their quarters. Finally, after ages of cat and mouse, Holly makes a mistake and Poe lands a tag on her.

“Ha! Tag! How's that feel?

Holly scoffs in frustration as they return to the starting points.

“Alright kids this is taking a while. Next point wins, free for all. Go!”

At first Holly has the upper hand and chases Poe across the sky. Both pilots maneuver their fighters through tight turns and large loops, trying to get the other in their sight.

Eventually Poe gets tired of being chased. It’s time to test his theory.

He makes sure Holly is still behind him before opening a private com channel to her.

“Ready for that special move?”

“Never gonna work, I’m gonna have to fish you out of the jungle after this,” she says confidently as she narrows in on him.

Poe grins under his helmet as he locks the brakes slamming the throttle back, cutting the thrusters off, killing the engine, and spinning around full force before tagging Holly and slamming the thrusters back on and shooting right past her. Spinning around 180 degrees and tagging her before she can even turn her head.

Holly’s frustrated yell can be heard as Poe whoops in celebration.

“Great flying kids, come back in for a landing. We need to talk,” Omega says into the coms.

“That's totally not the scariest phrase in the galaxy.”

“I’m sure you hear it a lot, Troublemaker,.”

“You know what, I'm gonna come up with a name for you and you are not gonna like it.”

“I'd love to see you try.”

The two continue to bicker as they come in for a landing, parking side by side.

Holly jumps out of the x-wing and holds her helmet to her side. She walks towards the two older women still sitting on crates, now the only spectators left.

“Ho-ly shit,” is all she can say as she shakes her hair out and joins Omega and Leia as the sun starts to envelope the room in a golden glow.

“I have to admit Aunt Mega, he is pretty good.You could make him great though,” Holly admits, grinning and giving Omega a hug.

“Not you too! Leia put you up to this didn't she?” Omega realizes she walked straight into a trap as Leia and Holly exchange a knowing look.

“Who, me? Conspire with our favorite General to make sure my Auntie stays here for a little while longer? I would never.” Holly keeps her eyes wide and pouty for Omega who can't help but laugh.

“You little shit, you lost on purpose didn't you?” Omega shakes her head as Poe lands and hops out of his own X-wing. He saunters over, helmet on his hip, winking at Holly as he joins the group.

“Seeing as I won and my nerfherder theory was correct, what’s my prize?”

Holly looks from the General to Poe smirking.

“Lessons with the best.”

“If the lessons are with you, Pretty girl I will never be late to class.”

“Pretty Girl. That's all you got?”

“You don't like it? How about—smart girl?”

“Funny, the lessons are with Auntie Mega. She’s the best around here.” Holly informs Poe who spins to look at a smug Omega who simply waves at him. Holly waves goodbye to the small group as she runs to escape Omega’s glare.

“Alright then, what kind of lessons are we having? You gonna teach me any more tricks? I like that spin, you got a name for it?” Poe questions Omega, rapid fire.

“First you are gonna go get cleaned up, then you are gonna meet me up on that cliff in 15 minutes. I need to destress after dealing with you children.”

With these words Omega turns headed towards the end of the hangar, ready to go to her special place. Her shadow long behind her as the sun continues its descent into the horizon.

[emmettkane]

Nameless Raiders Suck (In RPGS)

You know the ones I’m talking about, the random guys in a game that only exist for you to smash, stab, and shoot. “Raider”, “Marauder”, “Psycho”, “Bandit”. Who are they? Why are they here? What do they want? What do they have to do with the story?

The answer is ‘nothing’ most of the time, but why?

I like video games, particularly role-playing games and, if we want to get specific, CRPGS: Fallout, The Elder Scrolls, Rogue Trader, and other notable inclusions. To start though, I want to hone in on Fallout 3 and 4. I’ve played every entry in the series outside of one (shudders), and there is a specific issue that Bethesda just can’t seem to escape: The Nameless Raider.

The Problem

They just litter the place! Guys with no names and an endless supply of bad Halloween decorations! They shoot on sight and do all sorts of unspecified crimes when you aren't looking, so it's okay if you kill them!

“It’s a first person shooter, you need guys to shoot!” I hear you cry. Of course you do! Radioactive wildlife, feral ghouls, and malfunctioning robots all serve as suitable, ethically unambiguous targets. Other people, though?

The problem isn’t that it’s impossible for people to turn to irrational violence, but that Bethesda’s Fallout assumes that they will, and in massive numbers! It’s myopic: humans are no better than monsters, waiting for the slightest chance to break the shackles of civilization and visit sick torture on anyone stupid enough to step outside. They all do it in exactly the same way too, for some reason. It is a world fundamentally afraid of strangers and one uninterested in exploring what actually causes violence, or how to actually stop it.

Some people are evil.

Killing them is the solution.

That doesn’t just open a moral can-of-worms that Bethesda prevents the player from meaningfully interacting with, it also serves as a grand and embarrassing series of missed opportunities!

See, there'd be nothing wrong with this if these games weren't sandbox RPGs, where the goal is to create a believable and interesting world to get lost in.

Why don’t the raiders form proper gangs with names and recognizable cultures? That could really make the setting feel put together! Why don’t they try to rob people through intimidation, rather than jumping straight to murder? What a neat idea for an encounter! Could some of them offer their services as bodyguards or mercenaries? I bet a well-heeled, unscrupulous player character would enjoy having a couple genuine goons at their beck and call.

This problem is persistent in Bethesda titles (Skyrim’s bandits and Starfield’s space pirates), but also in other CRPGs. The Outer Worlds tries to make something of its unnamed marauders in the “Peril on Gorgon” DLC, but even the non-marauder ‘outlaws’ riddling the base game are decidedly lacking in purpose and definition.

The Why

Why do this? If it’s such a great opportunity, why do studios continuously manufacture unnecessarily sentient target dummies?

As simply as I can tell? It’s cheaper, it’s quicker, and it’s what the average player has come to expect. That is to say: most people will ignore it. That’s not good enough for me though, I think they can do better.

The Solution

Bethesda isn’t the only game in town when it comes to sandbox CRPGs, and some studios really work to justify their baddies!

Rogue Trader’s ‘Anver’ gang slots well into the ecosystem of their home station, Footfall, and the chaos cultists you fight throughout the game tend to be involved in larger plots, serving the strategies of your vile enemies (or allies, you filthy heretic).

The Great Khans of Fallout: New Vegas are united by a hatred of the NCR and a kick-ass biker aesthetic. The convicts in Primm are a splinter faction of the better-organized Powder Gangers, and even the small groups in the south, the Jackals and Vipers, are given gang names and spawn within defined territories.

Wasteland 3 delivers a cavalcade of bandit factions of varying sizes and complexities, but they are all named and granted a defined culture: The Dorseys, Los Payasos, The Gippers, The Godfishers, and more.

The How

That's a lot of examples, but how do they do it? There are many factors when it comes to defining a raider faction in a CRPG. Let's examine one in detail:

Fallout New Vegas, The Fiends.

Just to the west of Vegas proper live a group called The Fiends: too poor for the strip, too violent for Freeside, and too wild for The NCR. These dispossessed stragglers have clung together under a small number of tough, cold-hearted, and downright cruel leaders. Strength is power, and the only way for the members of this group to survive is to exercise that power by robbing travelers, stealing what they can, and killing what they can't. This is their uniting purpose, their shared history.

They fashion armor roughly out of whatever they can find, mostly old fabric, scraps of metal, and rubber. The aesthetic is unified by a cow-skull on the helm of each warrior meant to signify their brutality and indicate their belonging in the group. This is their uniting appearance.

Their fortresses are repurposed from the old world and decrepit, ill maintained. you won't find a fiend outside of their stronghold of vault 13 and a handful of outposts, plus the regions surrounding. This is their defined territory.

Combining these factors, (faction purpose, aesthetic, and territory) it becomes clear to a player when they are fighting fiends and when they aren't. Their crimes are known, their sins are tallied. Quests which take aim at The Fiends are unique from quests centered on other outlaw factions, and this clarity makes contact with The Fiends special. Crucially, this attention has been paid to every outlaw faction in the game, and you get a unique encounter no matter who you're fighting.

The end result is a world that lives and breathes. Even if you choose to play as a righteous justiciar who puts down marauder scum on-sight, never interfacing with these groups except at the barrel of a rifle, the subtle differences give weight to that decision. After all, who cares how callous or vengeful your character is when your targets are just that? Targets.

So What?

That's just it! Games like these, sandbox RPGs, thrive on having worlds you can fall into! The bigger story matters, the style is important, but the details are what create that sensation. Raiders can just be targets, most players won't consciously notice the wasted potential, but imagine if they weren't. Imagine getting out-played because you didn't realize you were up against a more elite gang, or winning out because you did your research and came prepared.

Imagine pitting two tougher groups against one another so that you could pick through the wreckage, or joining a weak gang to build it up into a real powerhouse. Imagine softening one group into upstanding mercenaries, or smashing them and driving them from their territory.

Imagine what these groups could be like, and then imagine making them that way.

---

Thank you for reading! If you liked this essay and want to get more of my thoughts, follow me on Tumblr or Ko-fi, or wherever else. and if you want a say in what I talk about next, join up as a Bunker Goblin for just a buck a month!

[jahanmp4]

I don't often talk about RP because I don't think I have anything interesting to bring to the table, but I just had this thought.

cc!Etoiles is always very vocal about HATING (and when I say hate I don't use this lightly I've rarely seen him react that intensely to anything else gameplay wise) PVP log (the act of logging off during a fight to avoid dying/losing damage). He is always about playing fair and square, if anything you need to remember about his mindset as a player, it's fairness.

This fits perfectly with q!Etoiles. He's always about defending people who are vulnerable, fighting for what is right (to him and his moral compass) and overall destroying anything that could be a threat/harmful to his loved ones. This coupled with the hc I saw someone mention on Day 1 of Purgatory of q!Etoiles being raised on UHC and feeling in his natural habitat definitely feeds in the "soldier-child" narrative.

Growing up playing UHC, q!Etoiles is all about following the rules of a duel, he's very much a gentleman in that matter. He knows all the strategies, the numbers and calculations needed to fully understand how to win a fight. He also understands that fighting someone who hasn't spent pretty much their entire life perfectioning their combat skills is unfair, and it's not even fun. He thrives in fighting against people who can potentially kill him, because then, it could potentially mean that they have the same understanding of what's at stake.

He was (wrongfully) painted as this bloodthirsty, merciless fighter by most islanders when he first arrived because they did not understand that the reason why he's so good at PVP was because he has always been meticulous and diligent in his training, but never unfair. Proof is that even when he killed other islanders/raided blue team's base he did not want to destroy anything because it didn't feel right to him.

Just now as I'm typing this he just said that he did not like the idea of destroying other team's bases because it would be too frustrating for them and that with a gameplay like that. Even if cc!Etoiles is very much holding back because of irl things, I find it so interesting how it fits PERFECTLY with q!Etoiles' soldier mindset even if unintentional (yes it makes sense because it's literally his cubito but leave me be okay). Remember how he was holding a q!Roier who was foaming at the mouth (my beloved) on a leash because he knew acting reckless and unprepared would not end well for them ? There's nothing impulsive about the man cucumber, he learned how to stay cool-headed because it's with a clear mind that you actually achieve your goals, very much what you learn in the army. Don't act on an impulse, act carefully but efficiently.

Anyways I think he's cool :D

[old-school-butch]

following the tent massacre, my question is, what should Palestinians do to be safe? What should women and children do to ensure their own survival? If they're told somewhere is safe only to be bombed in their tents, what hope do they have of surviving this war?

Unfortunately, very little. This is why war is so terrible - if only the people who agreed to fight were hurt then I would happily let them go at it. But when you plan for war, you are inherently accepting the deaths of so many innocents. That does not seem to weigh on leaders as heavily as it should.

There have been multiple proposals from Israel about where Gazan civilians can be safeguarded during this war but Hamas doesn't play by any normal rules. Normally, when you set up civilian areas that means that soldiers don't set up combat operations in the middle because that automatically makes it not a safe zone. Israel had proposed creating civilian safe zones in the Sinai peninsula but Egypt rejected the proposal out of fear that a) what if Israel doesn't let them return and they become Egypt's problem and b) Hamas would just follow their civilians into Egypt and start a whole other war since they already cooperate AND fight with IS jihadists based there, so Egypt would end up in a 3 way fight with terrorists and they'd much rather all this be Israel's problem.

So instead camps were setup in Rafah since Hamas' base of operations was further north. However, rockets are being fired at Tel Aviv out of Rafah now, so it's now clear that Hamas has established operations right in the middle of their civilians, putting Israel in a dilemma of how to safeguard their own civilians while removing this threat.

The only thing civilians can do in a war is be as far away as possible from combat. International law regarding combat make this obligation really clear to all combatants involved, which is why Israel is getting blasted for pursuing Hamas into Gaza. But since Hamas isn't a real government, they aren't held to the same standard and that's a problem no one has a good solution to. In the big picture, if using civilians as human shields means you get to win a war, then the terrorists really do win and we will all face non-stop terrorism because they will keep winning with this exact strategy.

But as an individual, if you know Hamas is keeping hostages near you or setting up rocket launchers next to you, your life is in immediate danger. But Hamas is not above terrorizing its own population, and women in Gaza have almost no political power so they are stuck here. Ultimately, Hamas needs to be overthrown and that can happen through Israel but it can also happen when the civilian population has had enough of a leadership that is so thirsty for violence. I mean, ideally, people might also become more wary in the future of voting bloodthirsty leaders into power but those lessons seem a long way off.

Having said all that, I don't agree with Israel's assault on Rafah. Yes Tel Aviv is under missile attack but the Iron dome protects civilians there while some re-grouping can happen to also protect civilian life. While freeing hostages was a clear goal, the theory of victory (i.e. what does it mean to 'win' or meet your objectives) to engage in this war with the goal of regime change is really tenuous. It's really not clear to me how that would happen and even whether Hamas' replacement would be any better.

I think in the face of terrorist and non-state actors, states need to re-think how wars are going to work in the future. You can't have one side that will do ANYTHING to save its civilian hostages facing another actor who appears ruthlessly willing to let their civilians die and not see that concluding this conflict is going to be bloody and prolonged. Israel hasn't really faced this kind of war before and I don't believe they are well prepared for it. For that matter, I don't think the world has a clear, successful strategy to handle terrorists and so far attempts to battle ISIS or al Queda have been similarly bloody and inconclusive. This is, of course, why these groups are spreading so rapidly - because killing civilians (your own an your opponents) until your non-terrorist opponent feels sickened at the slaughter and stops fighting you... works. The fact that Israel gets blamed for it is just icing on the cake.

One of the biggest problems with wars is that once you start them, they are very hard to stop. This is because only one side has to want war to begin it, but both sides have to want to end it. In particular, the loser has to decide they've had enough or the threat they pose to their opponent is ended. I remember watching the celebrations happening in Gaza on October 7th and wondering why these doomed people were cheering the start of war. If Hamas is literally willing to fight to the last civilian, when will they say enough?

[kaiamtt]

What I think they splatoon weapon they would choose(in turf war)

RAGHHH this probably does NOT make any sense at all but I need these thought to go somewhere so…

Tethys

I think she would use the dapple dualies. She likes to be at the front of the line in the heat of battle splatting her opponents. This helps Charis a bunch so she can ink turf. When she is t playing turf war with Charis do not make her ink base she’ll be very angry with you but she’ll still it… kinda

Tethys’s favourite special is either splashdown, kraken, or tentamissles

Charis

Big swig. While Tethys is splatting the enemy team Charis is inking as much turf as possible. She helps Tethys by staying back to ink turf. You can’t have one without the other. If she’s not playing with Tethys she’s probably doing side order or something.

Charis’s favourite special is probably reefslider or tacticooler



Zef

I see him as a REEF-LUX 450 kinda guy. He can paint turf pretty easily and he uses strategy, like using the curling bomb to move through ink and going back to spawn to use the tentamissles.

His favourite special is probably tentamissles or BOOYAH-bomb he definitely presses the booyah button at the start of every match

Sera

He probably uses the E-litre 4K. It’s his main but he’s flexible and doesn’t mind using other weapons. His splat(kill) count is always the highest of every match.

His favourite special is definitely ink vac.

Bodie

He hasn’t figured out how to go to the weapon shop and use the licenses 😭 so he just uses the default weapon you get from the tutorial. He really likes it tho he grown to be every good with it.

His favourite special is ink armour.

Marco

Octo brush is his main that’s all I wanna say maybe the splatana wiper depends on the game mode. He is also 100% X-rank just casually.

Rain is probably his favourite special.

Timmy

The tri-stringer. He uses the tri-stringer. It’s arguably not a good weapon but knows how to use it pretty well.

His favourite special is reefslider.

Bonus!

Mitch

Sploosh-o-matic. He loves when his other teammates all have the same weapon its actually kinda funny when that happens because of how much turf this weapon inks.

His favourite special is definitely crab tank maybe.

Tethys and Charis and Bodie belong to @capitalmaudios

Zef, Timmy, and sera belong to @obsidian-lantern

Marco belongs to @dayspriteofficial

Mitch belongs to @magebunkshelf

[ronearoundblindly]

The Dignity of His Choice (abridged ending)

Speedy version of Reflections Part II & III (see previous or series) Steve Rogers x wife!Reader

Alright, this may not be conventional, but I'm crippled by guilt over this story. There are so many elements that hit brutally close to home based on a personal experience this past year (arguably this past decade but whatevs), and so I have sifted through 28 A4-sized pages, front-to back, and 17 smaller pages, front-to back (save one sheet), as well as a typed-up 7k, in hopes of grasping this magical redemption arc that exists in my mind and falls flat everywhere else. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of loving this story so much that nothing is good enough, and I'm sick of hoping to offer a conclusion that never f***ing comes. Welp, today you can know the conclusion--or the gist of it at least--because that is my Christmas gift to myself. I'm washing myself of the guilt. -> What follows is an extremely unedited and maybe slightly poetic summary of the finale. God, I hope you enjoy it, but really, I just want to feel like I *can* finish something. Sorry if that's dramatic; that's just...the situation of 2023.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, and I hope this serves up some sort of holiday cheer! (No real warnings because smut is reserved for the full-length version. This tale, as always, is 18+ due to very heavy themes.)

The thing is Steve doesn't regret his choice. How can he regret anything that ensured you were here, alive and happy, by his side? That's not an achievement he'll ever be ashamed of; there's no guarantee in the multiverse that he could have done better.

You spoke of being lucky. You felt guilt that of all the servicemen and women to lose their lives, yours came home in the end.

Steve doesn't see it that way. Yes, you and he are very, very lucky, but overall, Steve won.

In every war, there are battles. In battles, there are fights. In fights, there are shots taken, punches thrown. You don't need to land every punch to win a war. There are always losses.

Steve Rogers tends to win because he understands this.

He knows the value of strategy. He knows the value of hope. He especially knows the value of planning for the worst.

And so he's surprised--as he often is with you--that he hasn't lost more.

You accept the loss as well as the win. You endure more gracefully than he ever imagined possible during those long months alone and away.

His sacrifice may have played a factor in your safety, but in the end, it just came down to you. You fought for yourself. You battled for your beliefs. You warred for your convictions.

Steve can understand that. He admires it.

He plans to make this dreadful mess up to you, he hopes for the time to do so, but before he can strategize how, your bubble of isolation is burst by a knock at the door.

"Open up, Rogers. Please," Sam Wilson requests anxiously over F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s speaker.

He could simply mean you since you are a Rogers and neither of you have heard the okay that the world knows Steve's alive. Although, Steve still doesn't have a phone again, and you haven't exactly been checking yours during recent...activities... (Not to put too fine a point on it, but Bucky's little gifts aren't going to miraculously last eight days and nights.)

Steve stays in the corner of the kitchen, drying his hands from the dishes you two were washing together, while you answer the door.

It swings open in the direction that still hides Steve.

"Hey--" Steve hears the soft pause in Wilson's voice "--I think...I may be out of line here, but Stark ordered personnel to vacate the compound."

You cross your arms over your chest, nervous. "Do we need to leave? I--As in, you and I? Are we included in that?"

"No," Sam says flatly. "It's just...suspicious--look, can I come in?"

"Sam, wait!" You push to make a wall in the doorway, meaning Steve can no longer see you or what's happening while a silence, an extremely pregnant pause, stretches.

Afterward, there's a whisper.

"Is he here?"

Your reply is only a stutter of unfinished words, but that's enough. Sam's stepped past and halted a few feet inside before his scanning gaze lands on Steve.

Steve's not sure what he expects his friend to do. He's misjudging reactions left and right these days, so he can't presume that--

"Gym?" Sam ticks his arm, thumb pointing back out to the hall. "I'm going for a run."

He has to convince you and Steve that the whole place really has been cleared before Steve changes clothes.

The string-light and garland-lined corridors remind Steve that his apartment remains devoid of any festive touches. You two have been too distracted to realize it's the day before Christmas Eve, so the 'evacuation' will likely draw no attention from the average employee.

Stark is just adamant they have the holiday for family. That's all. The only people who live there are Avengers.

The smell of the rubber floor when they walk onto the track spikes nostalgia in the back of Steve's brain, and in his utter joy to be there again, he starts sprinting like old times.

His blood pumps and his lungs stretch, but it's too hard, too fast. His blood thunders in his ears and makes his head swim. His lungs burn fiercely and seize. He collapses, gasping through his weakest asthma attack yet, but it still happens.

Things are almost, almost the same. Things are still different.

Without taking the opportunity to gloat (too much), Sam uses his powers, skills he's had all along, to divine Steve's real fear:

Steve changed things, and he may have changed things so much that it's all ruined. He can't go back to being Cap because he showed his colors: he chose you over everything else. What if you can't go back to being his wife because of that same choice?

Sam helps Steve off the floor.

"You walked the same circle for a long time, buddy. Instead of getting off the track entirely, try one lane over. Baby steps."

Steve snorts. "Ya know, she said something similar."

"Yeah, well, some of us filled in the stoic charm while you were gone."

"Comes naturally to you, doesn't it?"

Wilson turns to walk backwards, flashing pearly whites. "The outfit is growing on me, and I think the press were just about to stop calling me Black Cap." He playfully punches Steve's shoulder. "We'll see how far this sets me back, huh?"

After realizing he has to take it easy, Steve enjoys a long, mostly quiet run beside his friend, never once passing him. Though Steve asks about returning tomorrow, Sam has to decline. Christmas Eve is for Sarah and her boys, and Sam's sister will raise hell if crossed.

Just before leaving the gym, Sam hugs Steve, the length and intensity of the embrace telling Steve all he needs to know. Sam--like everyone else who knows so far--is happier than he is hurt, and that stifles Steve in a torrent of humility.

He doesn't deserve the strength of this family built around him, but he is grateful.

Steve also doesn't expect to find Natasha and Bucky in his apartment when he returns. He was hoping to put up some decorations with you, bring a touch of joyous spirit to that place you've been emotionally entombed for months, but he outright frowns when seeing the box they brought.

Between you and Nat sits the bin of intel the Keepers gathered on you and left behind at a raided facility. You're pouring over the dirty details of horrible intrusion to your private life, both you and Steve's, and he can't help but watch your face closely.

You do look horrified. You look furious for minutes on end, file after file, until you finally ask, "who's had stuff like this on you guys?"

That's the thing. That's the part eating away at Steve's shame. It's why he can't be beyond a superficial level of sorry for what he's done.

"The Red Room," Nat replies softly.

Buck shrugs. "Hydra...among others."

Steve knows what that intel could have been a precursor to; they could manipulate more than just him. You could have been used, you could have been changed, and it would have been his fault. Extremes are most of his life, so Steve goes to extreme measures to keep his life separate from all of that.

Blurring those lines--bringing you closer to the fray of this scary and violent world feels irresponsible.

You continue to ask candid questions about what Nat and Bucky were doing this whole time. The response is grueling, a complex web of taking out targets without signaling an ulterior motive, every interaction carefully executed to seem natural, all the while knowing that Steve waited to come home and you waited for...well, the truth.

The way Natasha describes it makes Steve sick to his stomach.

He never wanted this, but he has to live with the consequences.

You thumb over a few stalking photographs in your hand and simply say, "that was quite a commitment."

Something triggers in Steve, and suddenly, his next move is crystal clear.

"I'll--I'll be right back," he blurts.

All three of you startle in confusion, sat around the coffee table like it's the most normal thing in the world to share so much. You've had top clearance for twenty-four hours. You're already a pro, and that makes Steve's idea that much more perfect.

He races through the building, glad he doesn't have to hide, and pounds on Tony's door.

As soon as Tony opens up though, Morgan rushes past his legs and lets out a blood-curdling cry that ends in a sobbing, "you're alive."

The little girl flings herself into Steve's arms, refusing to let go the entire time he asks Stark--all the Starks--for a favor.

You wake up the next morning to find a note from Steve and a dress of yours hung by the tree you put up after a long meal with Nat and Bucky.

Important errand, the note reads. Expect Tony to come by at 11. Wear this, please. I love you.

It's the dress you chose for your first date with Steve, the date that kinda never happened because the compound was invaded and you had to kill a guy. Odd memory to resurrect, but you do adore that dress.

You're not surprised when Tony arrives in one of his signature suits, nor when he makes a show of walking you through the halls on his arm. He has the uncanny ability to chat about nothing using the maximum number of words. He's delightful that way.

Your first real clue is Morgan, standing outside some double doors to one of the flex rooms, like the ones changed for training different abilities, like the ones used for therapy circles. In fact, it's the same room, the exact same double doors as years ago.

The girl looks fit to burst, clearly told to keep her cheers to a minimum as she clutches a wicker Easter basket in her hands, crouching as if ready to spring into action.

Pepper stands close by. Nat and Bucky whisper conspiratorially a ways down the hall.

Then you notice.

Tony has on a black suit with red pin-stripes, Pepper a blue dress with a white belt, Natasha a red dress with a white belt, and Bucky a navy suit with a black-shirt underneath.

"We did our best on short notice," Tony rambles off, guiding you to a stop in front of the party.

"This is for you," Morgan squeaks, ripping a colorful bundle of pipe cleaners out of the basket. There are buttons woven to the tops of each 'stem.'

Pepper quickly adds, "wild flowers were...a bit scarce, as you can imagine."

You brave a single question.

"What's going on?"

Everyone just beams at you, falling into a pattern of pairs behind Morgan before Tony winks and tells you to follow his lead.

The doors open, and there, at the end of the aisle, stands Steve--your Steve--in his old Captain America outfit minus the cowl. His hair is still long and darker, but his beard is properly trimmed.

All you can think is how you'll tease him about that.

You pinch at the leather sleeve in curiosity, and Steve leans over.

"This is the last thing I'll ever do in it," he says before kissing your cheek. "Promise."

"Says the guy who's stolen it twice," Tony mutters from his place on the other side of Bucky.

"He has a point," Nat chimes in.

The poor priest clears his throat and bellows, "dearly beloved..."

He keeps his promise.

At a press conference just before New Year's, Steve is announced as one of those rescued from "an enemy base" in an undisclosed location.

The crowd of reporters erupts in a chaos of inquisition, but all Steve will give them, standing there in a simple sweater and slacks, is his official resignation of the title Cap.

"What do we call you then?" someone shouts from the back.

"Just Steve. I am Steve Rogers, that's all." He looks to his left for the comfort of your face. "And this--" he grabs your hand "--is Mrs. Rogers, my soulmate."

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @claireelizabeth85 @patzammit @supraveng @1950schick @jamneuromain @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts

A/N: and yes, the full-version will be written eventually.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]