#what is existence without yearning for something you can put into words

[flojouno]

can schizophrenia stop affecting my cognitive functioning so i can write my gay ass fanfics again

[soulaires]

Sweet Dreams | A.W

pairings: dad!Aaron Warner x mom!Reader

synopsis: Aaron loves his daughter, he really do. Hell, he would burn down the world for her but sometimes,, all he wanted was to spend one night alone with you—his beloved pretty wife.

warnings: interrupted sexy times, domestic life, GIRL DAD AARON WARNER LESSGOOO, comfort, nightmares, Aaron Warner is so done, reader and dior are little shits, fluff, married life, light smut obvi, it was interrupted though (literally the whole plot) not proofread …

« words: 1,607┇ao3┇reblogs are appreciated! »

🏷 :: @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan @nomournersonefuneral @lilyevansstudygroup @arinexeisnotworking

Aaron Warner is a good father.

He really is, he educated himself on the risks, pros and cons, he even bought himself a book on how to take care of his pregnant wife, a beginners guide on being a father and what not.

He would like to pride himself that he knows about everything, knows how to handle when the baby cries, when the baby throws a tantrum, or when his daughter wants something and such.

but…

If there was one fact no one mentioned to Warner about being a father, it was just how quickly his sex life would evaporate.

He loves dior, he really does. She is his most beloved daughter, baby girl, light of his life, his princess, his Achilles heel (plus you, of course.) and unfortunately the bane of his existence.

he’s kidding.

but of course there are some times that he just wants an alone time with you, his beautiful wife without being interrupted by a certain little princess.

All because you drove him to madness, igniting an insatiable desire within him, awakening the hidden beast that eagerly salivated and panted in response to your lustful glances, strategically unleashed whenever the mood struck.

He would be a fool to lie and pretend you didn’t stir something inside of him, some wretched version of himself rattled the bars of its cage, akin to a hurricane relentlessly tearing through barriers to reach you whenever you allowed your sugar-sweet voice to caress his sensitive ears.

He was a slave for the love you easily gave him as if it’s the easiest thing you can ever do. How can you easily love someone like him? a hopeless man yearning for thirst and begging for a single drink, a solitary taste, as if dying of thirst and pleading at your feet.

You were his goddess, and the privilege of sharing your bed, your throne, surpassed all his wildest dreams. Simply being by your side was more than he believed he deserved, and he vividly recalled the day he first encountered you—the day you convinced him that he was truly worth something.

—

The room is awash with the silvery glow of the moon, you notice, setting a tranquil atmosphere that amusingly contradicts the feverish warmth of Aaron's caresses. His kisses trace a journey from the curve of your neck to the hollow of your navel. However, any sense of composure shatters when your husband playfully bites your right nipple, sending all rational thoughts scattering out the window.

“Ah, Aaron,” you groan after a sharp nip against your collarbone. “fuck! baby…I—we can’t—!”

“Shh, we can, love. Dior is asleep” he whispers against your ear, “just let me take care of my wife, yeah?” He said as he caressed your hair, admiring your beauty under him. “It’s just us…” he said as he chuckled and that made you shiver.

“Pretty, momma…look at you, my pretty wife.” Aaron shifts to readjust himself as he hurriedly vanishes the remaining clothes and attacks your lips and kisses you passionately and hungrily as if he has been starved for years.

“Gods—look at you, ma, pretty as life and poison, want me to put another baby on you, hm?” he said as he dragged his teeth against your chest to taste your beating heart and he then placed soft and slow kisses on your face while stroking your face with his thumb.

You draw him closer, intending for a light and sweet kiss to allow your husband to continue his gentle touches. Yet, it’s not your fault that you find yourself getting lost in the sheer perfection that is Warner.

He, in turn, envelops both of you with his hand, stirring a gentle desire for more within you and oh, dear god, you need more.

Just as you are about to open your mouth to voice out your desires for a little more, a soft, almost inaudible knock interrupts the intimate moment.

The unmistakable soft voice of your three-year-old daughter pierces through the room, calling out, “momma..? dada..?” Panic flashes between you and Aaron, and hastily, you both scramble to locate your discarded clothes.

“mommy! daddy!” yelled dior through the door as she started knocking continuously that makes you and your husband panic more. “‘s da door broken..?!”

“just a second, princess,” Aaron softly calls out, panicking when his hard-on doesn’t seem to go away. Hell.

He glances up at his wife and stares at you, baffled when he realizes that you had already put on your night gown and on your way to open the door.

“Wha—how?” he asks in disbelief. “You were literally just—”

“Don’t underestimate me.” You joked.

Aaron dismissively shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and takes a seat on the bed, discreetly covering his arousal with the white comforter just as Dior bursts into the room and enthusiastically throws herself into your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, gently rubbing comforting circles on her back. “Nightmare, love?”

"Uh-huh," Dior nods against your neck, her tears leaving your nightgown slightly damp.

you picked her up and went to the bed as dior hugged her dad, sniffing as she softly cried, “oh, darling. What happened, princess? hm?” Asked Warner as he hugged his crying daughter to his arms.

“I—hiccup t-thought monsters got you,” said dior, her green eyes filled with tears. you then pulled her into a hug.

“aw, baby, we are fine,” you said, patting her back. you brush the blonde curls out of your daughter’s eyes. “yeah, sweetheart, no monsters here.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking suspiciously around their room.

“Promise,” you replied, assuringly as you stood up to rock her to calm her down.

“We promised, sweet princess. And if there is, daddy will scare the ugly monsters away,” your husband assured her from the bed as dior starting to calm down,

“really?” she said with a shaky voice and a glassy doe eyes and you almost cried seeing her state.

Poor baby.

“I promise, Di, daddy will protect you and momma.” Aaron said sincerely as you rocked her back and forth in your arms, running your fingers through her wild curls.

Dior sniffles start to quiet down. “Mhm…,” she says. “Can I stay here?” She looks at you with puppy eyes that is impossible for you to say no so you nodded.

“Of course, princess ,” Aaron responds, quietly mourning the loss of one night with his wife, alone.

As you continue rocking Dior in your arms, attempting to lull her into a peaceful slumber, your efforts are momentarily interrupted by her sweet voice, breaking the silence of the room.

“Mommy?” Dior queries after a few minutes, perched on your lap with a wide-eyed expression. “What's wrong with daddy?”

Your gaze shifts toward Aaron, who remains sprawled face-down on the bed, emitting occasional groans and muffled whines in his attempt to compose himself for the sake of your toddler. Suppressing a grin, you find amusement in his comical efforts.

“Well, Di,” you murmur, showering light kisses on your daughter’s chubby cheeks to conceal your amusement. “I think your daddy is having a nightmare, much like the one you just experienced.”

Dior gasps in innocent concern. ”Oh no! Mommy, give daddy kisses to scare the monsters away!”

Smiling at her pure-hearted suggestion, you gently explain, “I don’t think that will help, sweet thing.” Observing Dior's face scrunch up in confusion, you swiftly add, ”You see, adults have different nightmares than kids do.”

“But kisses always help!” Dior insists with unwavering conviction.

”Well, if you insist,” you reply, giving in to her innocent plea, and share a quiet laugh at the sheer delight evident on Dior's face.

As you comply with dior’s request, you peppered kisses onto your husband’s face, eliciting a chorus of giggles from both him and Dior.

After showering Aaron with a cascade of kisses, he playfully remarks, "Mhm, daddy is okay now, but he'll be even more okay if you give daddy a kiss too."

Dior, with her eyes sparkling, responds enthusiastically, "Okay, Daddy!" She complies, peppering him with a flurry of sweet kisses as you heard Aaron giggles so you did, and in the midst of the joyous exchange, she graciously plants kisses on your face, too.

“Thank you, baby. Ready for sleep?” You asked and the response is a barely there nod.

“Love you and g’night, little missy.” You whisper, your voice sounds like a lullaby to the quiet room.

Aaron chimes in, taking on the role of the protector, “daddy will be right here, chasing away any monsters that dare to bother you, emerald.”

Dior, even in her drowsy state, manages to mumble a sleepy “luvu, daffy, momfy” before succumbing to dreams. The room, now quiet except for the soft breathing of your little one.

Your husband then looked at you and softly smiled, “I’ll chase all of your monsters away, too, love.” you softly giggled and gave him a peck.

However, as the night deepens, you feel a pair of eyes on you. Turning your attention, you find your husband, his expression akin to a kicked puppy, a playful pout adorning his features. It’s a silent plea for the solitude that eluded him tonight, a longing for those moments when it’s just the two of you.

You meet his gaze, understanding the unspoken disappointment in his eyes. As a promise of solace, you assure him with a tender look that whispers, ”Next time, it'll be just us.” you promised him.

And you were never the one who breaks promises.

So, was it really a surprise that after you fulfilled your promise you found yourself with two positive pregnancy tests?

No, not really.

📫 :: my first post in 2024 ?!?!!? Anyway this will be a series !!! Next one will be the introduction of the new addition to the family and THE question of “where does baby come from?” From baby warner. Also, if you want to be added to my taglist please do let me know!

[bloomyeu]

with or without you

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: bottling you're feelings for so long, it begins to hurt. until you mention it.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, (no) comfort, not edited

a/n: first fic :p lmk if u liked it hehe

part 2 | masterlist | requests

Love was something you always chased, yearning to feel what people experienced in the movies —the flowers, the kisses, the gifts, that meaningful connection that seems to exist only for a lucky few. 

So when you met Chan, it was as if everything blossomed like flowers in spring.

It had started with little things, when chan would mention how much he missed you he on tour

ynnieeee haiiiii

hi channie! 

hiiheyyy imithu smmsmsm

bfrjjd i do 2

ur back next week right?

yaya i am, we need to meet up once im back

movie night?

movie night. 

You clung to these exchanges, even as you realized they might mean more to you than they did to him.

☄. *. ⋆

there were the times when you both were together, physically close yet emotionally worlds apart. You would catch glimpses of his smile, and your heart would race, but he never noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long. He would tell you stories from concerts, his voice animated and bright, while you hung onto every word, even the ones that hinted at someone else who made him smile that way.

"You know, you always manage to pull me out of a slump," Chan said with a yawn, his voice laced with gratitude.

"Well, I'm glad I can help. You could basically call me your muse," you replied with a light chuckle, the words teasing yet sincere.

"Yeah, you're definitely my muse," he agreed, a soft smile playing on his lips before he turned back to work. You watched him for a moment longer, feeling a warmth spread through you, knowing that he was your muse too.

As the days went by, your feelings only deepened, even as you tried to push them away.

You would lie awake at night, replaying every conversation, every laugh, every moment, searching for signs that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

But each time, you were met with the cold realization that his affection was platonic, kind, and distant, while yours was anything but.

“Chan, have you ever fallen in love?”

“Um, once, but it was a while back. Why?”

“No reason. I’v just always wondered what it feels like to be in that state of mind.”

“Well, it feels like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It feels like everything else fades away, and all that matters is that person. Like you’re finally complete, you know?”

“Must be nice,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied softly.

“So… no one on your mind right now?”

“Nope. You?”

You stared at him for a moment, heart pounding as you fought the urge to tell him the truth.

“Um, no… but maybe one day,” you said, forcing a smile.

☄. *. ⋆

As the months passed by, you found yourself lost in thoughts of him—his smile, his kindness, and all the love he had to give. The ache of missing him became a constant companion, a reminder of the feelings you harbored in silence.

With lunch in hand and a hopeful heart, you made your way to his studio. The anticipation of seeing him again sparked a mix of excitement and anxiety. You approached the studio’s entrance, eager to surprise him, when you nearly bumped into Felix, who was just leaving. “Hey, Lix! I haven’t seen you in forever!” you greeted, trying to mask your anxiety with a bright smile. “Hi, Yn! What are you doing here?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Oh, I’m just dropping off lunch for Chan. I haven’t seen him in so long and thought, why not surprise him, you know?” you replied, your excitement tinged with a hint of nervousness. Felix’s expression shifted subtly, his smile fading into a more thoughtful look. “Ah… maybe it’s better to save the surprise for another time,” he suggested gently. “Can you believe it? He finally has a girl in the studio! I’m actually happy for him—he’s really opening up and putting himself first for the first time since iv met him ahaha”

The words hit you like a cold wave. You tried to keep your composure, but inside, a mixture of confusion and heartache swirled. “A girl?” you echoed, struggling to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t realize…”

Felix nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “Yeah, it’s new. But I think it’s a good thing. Chan’s been so focused on work and producing, and now he’s letting someone in. It’s nice to see him happy.”

You forced a smile, your heart sinking. “That’s… really good to hear. I’m happy for him, too.”

Felix gave you a sympathetic look. “If you want to talk or need anything, I’m here. You know we all are.”

You nodded, grateful for the kindness but feeling a profound sadness. “Thanks, Felix. I appreciate that.”

With a heavy heart, you turned and left the studio, the weight of Felix’s words settling over you. The lunch you’d brought now felt like a symbol of a hope that had been dashed. As you walked away, you tried to focus on the positive—on Chan’s happiness—but the realization that your feelings might never be reciprocated made the day feel heavier than it had before.

☄. *. ⋆

Although the two couldn't have been more apart, your feelings had just continued to grow. 

Winter had finally rolled around, bringing with it the warmth of the annual Christmas party Minho would host. The past few months had felt like a fever dream, with your feelings for Chan growing ever more consuming. The holidays, usually a time of cheer, now felt tinged with an undercurrent of longing.

As you walked into the party, the festive lights and laughter offered a brief distraction. You scanned the room until you spotted Chan across the crowded space. With a deep breath, you approached him, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Hiya, Channie! It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” you greeted, trying to keep your voice light despite the fluttering in your chest.

“Yeah, it has. My god, I’ve missed you,” he replied, pulling you into a warm hug. As you nestled against him, you felt your heart clench, overwhelmed by a mixture of joy and sadness.

“I’ve actually been meaning to tell you something,” you began, hesitating as you tried to steady your nerves.

“Me too, actually,” Chan said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “I hope it’s good news.”

“It always is,” you replied with a nervous laugh. “Well, tell me first.”

“No, you go first,” he insisted, a playful glint in his eye.

“Okay” you said with a soft smile. “Well I finally got tickets to the Wave to Earth concert in Seoul—that band I’ve been hooked on.”

Chan’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “Oh, that sounds amazing! I’d love to. But… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you too.”

You felt a slight tightening in your chest, hoping for a revelation that might mirror your own feelings. “What is it?”

“Well, I finally have a girlfriend,” Chan said, his voice softening with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “Or, well, I’m planning to ask her soon. I’m really excited about it.”

The words hit you like a cold wave, and you struggled to maintain your smile. “Oh,” was all you could manage, your heart sinking as you tried to process the news.

“What were you going to say before I interrupted you?” Chan asked, his gaze gentle.

“Oh, um, just that you should go to the concert with me, I know much you love music” you replied, forcing enthusiasm into your voice despite the ache in your heart. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Chan’s smile was warm but distant. “That sounds great. I’m looking forward to it too.”

As the conversation shifted and Chan’s attention drifted to others, you found yourself standing on the periphery, the failed attempt at asking him out now overshadowed by the quiet sting of rejection. The realization that Chan’s heart was set on someone else cast a shadow over the festive atmosphere, leaving you to navigate the mingling feelings of friendship and unspoken longing. The party’s warmth felt like a cruel contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside.

fin.

part 2 | masterlist | requests

[fishnapple]

CRYSTAL READING : Shine the light on your hidden fears and give them a hug.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Feedback is much appreciated ❤️

About me | Masterpost

Buy me a drink or book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. Strawberry quartz

I keep seeing the troupe in movies and books about the pairing of an innocent child with a jaded, big grown-up who ended up travelling together through some fateful encounter, like the series Sweet tooth in Netflix (recommended)

Your outer appearance and the image that everyone sees may not fully reflects who you really are inside. This is a subconscious fear that you yourself not really aware of.

A fear of letting your vulnerable side, your childlike, innermost pure part of yourself out into the open. Some part deep within you yearns to let go, to be able to just exist without fear, worries and restrictions, to feel as one with people, to be soft and be taken care of. Somehow you find it’s hard to accept it, to act in that way would be considered as ‘weak’ by you. So you try to drown out that inner voice by speaking in a louder voice to the world.

In the eyes of the world, you show no trace of fear and insecurity. A confident, secured, friendly image. Your words hold weight, people listen to you but sometimes your communicating style would be perceived as rough and forceful. The repressed part in you would somehow find some ways to sneak out, to be expressed. If you ever have had some sudden emotional outbursts, some hurtful words blurted out unconsciously, take a deep breath and think carefully about what is the cause of it. Anything that is perceived as restriction coming from others would trigger a lash out, like a challenge to your unshakable confidence. Your inner-self has been already under so much restrictions by yourself, any outside force would just put more oil into the fire.

Just your acknowledgement of this part about yourself would help tremendously. Instead of always trying to be strong and powerful, being more open to the tender part of yourself would bring a wave of awareness to other people also. You have the potential to be a great teacher that can bring changes. You can show to others that sometimes it’s okay to be weak, it’s okay to just float, to feel lost sometimes. Let the child walks with you side by side, not fearfully hiding behind.

2. Flourite

The stone that represents you landed right on the center of the chart. Somehow whatever fear you are having, there is this part of you that is just immovable. The lesson is to always find the way back to that center place.

You have a very open aura that is warm like sunshine. Others could see your optimism clearly. You express what you believe in without reservation and judgment, the same is applied for other’s belief and opinions also. But then later on, you would sometimes have doubts about how would your way of living your life and your beliefs are perceived by other people.

You stay true to yourself. Your authenticity is shining, because it’s so visible, there are bound to be some clashes with others. Not everyone can agree with your way readily.

Your fear would be about saying something that is considered outlandish and then be judged harshly for it. Would your closed ones and people around you accept your authenticity with open arms? Would their affection decrease when they are not agreeing with you? Would you be considered weird if you speak the truth? Those would be some doubts that you have.

But there is something that you need to consider. Would a clash in opinions or the way you live really would bring estrangement? Of course, you will always be judged by someone. You can’t control other’s judgment, but not everyone is like that. Some will embrace your quirks lovingly. Maybe you can’t charm the mass, but there will be some crowds that will appreciate what you have to offer, your insights, your compassion, your generosity, your authenticity.

If you seek a sense of belonging in people, just find the right people for you. Know that differences don’t have to mean solitude.

3. Amethyst

So scattered and distant. I sense a fear of hopelessness, that life would one day becomes bleak and empty without meaning.

Loneliness and solitude.

Fear of having the loved ones going away, of having the love in your hands to offer but don't know whom to offer that love.

Fear of losing control of one's life, being pushed around by outside forces. That would be some twists of fate, sudden change and lost that make you feel helpless and can't act against them.

I get so many fears in this group, it feels so heavy, I wish you peace and love. I don't know your age but the energy feels young, a young heart having to pass a mission from the early days, have to endure so much and carry a burden on the mind so that the a resilient spirit can be forged. Imagine a story about a young one going on a quest to gather lost treasures and making friends along the journey, there would be both loss and joy. I think that the treasures that the main character, you, seeks and need to bring back home is your inner child, the guiding light within you. By having that light back, even when you travel alone in the dark, you won't feel lost and powerless.

In the face of confusion and loss, keeping a light and tender heart, talking with friends, making something, cook your favourite dish would help you feel more connected with life. Keep your faith in the joy of life, there is always something worth living for.

If you feel that life is moving too slowly for you and crave some changes, think very hard about what you really need from that change, maybe you have been holding that treasure all along.

4. Citrine

I'm seeing a Torii gate of Japan (image below) with the sun rising behind.

Venus stone is standing in front of it, small and distant. I feel a certain fear concerning learning, self-worth and life enjoyment.

There is a gate being open in front of you but you are afraid to cross over, the light of the sun is calling you but you are hesitant.

Is there anything you long to say or to learn but couldn't find the right time or opportunity for it ? Something you enjoy learning but fear that it would take so much time and works, that it would take you away from your safe and familiar environment.

This is the hurdle that you need to pass. Always keep the inspiration steady, follow it and don't look around, you will find you self passed the gate already.

You may have a fear of facing changes, big one, both with relationship with people and in your career, people's perception of you would change if you make some big changes.

This is a call to focus on finding more about what you want to learn, what you are taking in to form your own life's philosophy, finding the "meaning of life". It needn't be something grand, the meaning lies in each step you take.

You may find yourself becoming more interested in spirituality, being fascinated by other cultures. There would be some hidden force at play here, nudging you toward the gate.

Take one step at a time, you may find help and abundance along the way, with so much opportunities to connect and trading thoughts with new people.

*The Torii gate*

5. Obsidian

A kite is flying. There is some kind of fear concerning relationships. Once a relationship has taken off, you fear that it will be scrutinized and judged by everyone around you, maybe you even fear that it goes against the moral code of your society.

There is a desire to be free of restrictive rule and the fear of being overshadowed by some authority figure deep within you.

I sense a lot of overbearing and harsh energy around you. Maybe they come from your teacher, some kind of mentor, someone you look up to, a feminine figure close to you or someone in the role of a nurturer but their nurturing style is quite dominant and smothering. They may mean well but their words are sharp and cold that could deal a heavy blow to your sense of self worth and shaking your confidence. Making you stay behind them under the name of protection.

The message for you would be about finding your voice, be the authoritative voice for yourself, step out of the shadow. Especially in relationships. Whether it is romantic or platonic, relationships with families and authority, be aware of any imbalance in the power dynamic at play. Be mindful of the role as "helper", who is serving whom, who is getting served.

Maybe you would develop some kind of obsessive routines or perfectionism in how to carry out your job to counter-balance the feeling of passivity and the lack of freedom.

Having control of your daily life to strengthen your sense of autonomy, from the small decisions such as what to eat, when to sleep to big decisions like how to do your job, what habit and routine to practice and adopt.

Love.

[thecoolerliauditore]

I need your thoughts on Martyn.

Jesus Christ in heaven where to start.

I was planning to write massive essay posts about each of the winners sooner or later, I guess Martyn can skip the queue. As a treat.

BAD traffic series martyn analysis post don't read. LONG POST

note: rules I'm operating by are to keep the analysis primarily traffic-based (although this one's kind of an exception because. mr watcher lore) and I'm not rewatching entire POVs so stuff might be wrong so on so forth

Why is he... Like that?

So before I even start talking about 3L I feel the need to address Martyn's background first because, not unlike alot of the other members of the cast, Martyn's previously established relationships from series like Evo have a significant impact on how he behaves.

This is kind of difficult for me to talk about because it breaks my "no material outside of the traffic series" rule for these essays specifically, but I think it's honestly just more fun incorporating Martyn's off-series lore drops and such into his character instead of leaving them out.

So here's the basis I work from -- Martyn is the most unreliable narrator in a full cast of them. His lore is his character's version of events, not an unbiased retelling.

Whether the Watchers exist and whether they're the same entities present in Evo doesn't matter all that much, since all we know is that they are very real to Martyn, at least. Taking the lore as Martyn's POV also helps iron out some of the more awkward creases it creates when viewing the series as a whole (e.g. Grian's involvement with the Watchers surely means he would reference them himself, yet he doesn't) and lays the groundwork for some really interesting things about Martyn himself when you try to put the dots together on how he arrived at these conclusions. I'll be referencing these as they come up chronologically.

So, without over complicating things, here are the rules I'm playing by when it comes to pre-3L Martyn:

Evo did really happen with the same people, however the exact details are muddy.

Martyn knew Jimmy prior to the games and the two already had some sort of personal connection going in.

We're not trusting a word out of his mouth. Especially if he says them on stream. But we are going to acknowledge what those words are.

With those parameters set, let's move on:

Third Life, and the guy who gets a little too into it

Like Grian, Martyn immediately acclimates to the game's survival-based mechanics. Martyn spends a good chunk of the first session of 3L seemingly aimless, but he makes observations and choices throughout that show he has survival at the back of his mind (e.g. him quickly establishing an alliance with Grian and Bigb while sneakily putting them in his debt through the diamonds he finds early -- even if this doesn't end up paying off to anything).

Unlike Grian however, Martyn less desperately clings onto a need for an edge to survive and seems almost comfortable in playing the game. A running theme for him throughout all the seasons will be that he seems to feel most comfortable when he has some amount of unspoken power over others, whether that be something as silly as testing the waters with his creeper soundboard or later when he starts playing 4D chess with himself in regard to his loyalties.

"Power" might be not exactly the right word for what Martyn yearns for, but it's the best word I can find to really describe it. He's always the one with a card up his sleeve or a plan B or, arguably most importantly, the one with control over the situation and responsibility over his own and others' wellbeing.

In my mind, at least, I think it might be a consequence of Martyn actually being quite sensitive in terms of relationships and having this very deep-seeded need to protect his loved ones from harm but lacking the emotional intelligence necessary to allow himself to be vulnerable about those feelings and communicate properly. So instead he finds some way to protect himself emotionally (usually overdramatic and makes him way worse) and treats everyone including himself with a level of un-seriousness that alleviates the tension for him.

If I were to dig deeper into this specific point I must say Martyn seems to have chosen to perform a very specific breed of masculinity, with his constant agonizing need to protect and lead while not having to confront his own perceived weaknesses, and alot of his insecurities and frustrations come from being denied that husband-y role to play.

His interactions with Jimmy early on in 3L portray this side of him quite plainly. After seeing Scott hit him around at Renchanting, Martyn gets Jimmy alone and asks him if he's okay but after Jimmy dodges the question, Martyn quickly becomes frustrated and starts acting very overdramatic (e.g. threatening to cut Jimmy off, "I can't look at you", so on) even as Jimmy keeps insisting they keep talking.

In my humble opinion, it's clear to me from how he speaks to Jimmy in this scene and further on, and from his referencing of their Evo relationship, that this is these two's established dynamic - the way Martyn dramatizes everything feels almost as if he were making a joke of it, teasing Jimmy, almost akin to how an older sibling or very old friend would act. It's possible that Martyn didn't expect Jimmy to take any of his threats seriously (although he definitely was laying on the pressure to try and get him to agree in the moment) and that's why he's so taken aback when Jimmy does act almost afraid of him from this point forward.

Not once does Martyn ever verbalize his own feelings regarding the matter. He never says that he's scared or worried for Jimmy, or even makes any sort of subjective judgment on Scott's character for hitting Jimmy in the first place. He makes it all about Jimmy, never communicating *why* he is doing what he's doing which ends up giving off the impression he thinks he knows what's best for him, which of course never communicates to Jimmy that Martyn cares for or loves him and ends up pushing him away as a result.

Speaking of Scott, despite Martyn clearly not approving of the way he treats Jimmy (judging from the aforementioned conversation and his later lore streams where he essentially calls Scott and Jimmy's marriage a sham), he does not ever act antagonistically towards Scott. Which I think is indicative of another key trait of Martyn's - an almost uncanny ability to push aside his own feelings at least momentarily for the sake of the game.

Martyn does not speak badly to or about Scott. He even explores the nether with him very early on and the two literally joke about trapping the Flower Valley and killing Jimmy together.

I think there's an understanding and perhaps a level of respect, on Martyn's end, towards Scott. One of the first observations he makes about Scott's base, after all, is its defensive location and Scott, like Martyn, values his own competency and likes to pretend he's more emotionally unattached to his partner than he really is (the parallels between Martyn/Ren and Scott/Jimmy are even somewhat lampshaded by Martyn himself when he refers to them as "my red" (Ren) and "your red" (Jimmy) later).

It seems that Martyn doesn't dislike anything innate to Scott's nature, and even has love for his manipulative traits. If it were anyone other than Jimmy Scott was hitting, I'd argue, Martyn wouldn't have raised a fuss about it. Not to mention, there's also a sense of "keeping your enemies closer" when it comes to these two, as both seem acutely aware the other is useful on their side and a threat anywhere else.

I'd argue despite the fact he's able to push his dislike towards Scott aside, he definitely still feels spiteful towards him, as he ends up hunting him down pretty mercilessly come the end of the series (after Jimmy dies too - so perhaps there was also a level there of feeling the need to put up with Scott beforehand as he was Jimmy's only ally, but now that Jimmy's gone there isn't any need to be friendly with Scott anymore.)

Now onto the heavy-hitter Martyn 3L relationship - his dynamic with Ren.

I'll be honest I think most treebark shippers have summed up their relationship way better than I could. You could probably go into the tag and see thirty eight analysis posts more indepth and accurate than mine. However I will say that one thing I see rarely mentioned is this very obviously being Martyn's first time meeting Ren (I'm talking about characters here but here is your acknowledgement this is definitely a result of this literally being the case for the CCs).

He's not used to Ren's mannerisms -- during their first meeting, Ren says his usual "ex-squeeze me" (instead of "excuse me") and Martyn responds "no thankyou, I'm married". Not to get too into it as this is The Martyn Post but Ren's POV would imply the same since he sees Martyn's name in chat and he immediately starts theorizing about what kind of player he is.

I think Ren essentially being a stranger to Martyn at the start of the series makes it easier for him to act manipulatively and keep him at arm's length, as well as be in denial about the whole emotional attachment thing. For so much of their alliance during 3L Martyn is acting, performing to match Ren's vibes, except he's not.

^this quote and the concept of freudian slips informs like 88% of my worldview, if anyone's wondering why I'm. like that.

"The Hand" is very much not how Martyn naturally acts or behaves, down to the change in speaking patterns. It's a persona that I think both Ren and Martyn never take too seriously or mistake for Martyn's authentic self, but it's also something Martyn uses to express his innermost feelings he disallows himself from usually. Yes it's all silly even in-universe but I think there's something special about how he constantly expresses his devotion as The Hand, even if he's doing it with a layer of irony. Plus, I think it says something that, jumping later in the timeline, his flashbacks in LimLife are much more true to the character of The Hand than Martyn himself.

This section is already long enough but I do have to mention Bigb, Grian and Scar or I'll explode.

Earlier on, I touched on Martyn giving Grian and Bigb diamond swords early and it being an attempt to leverage an alliance between them. This I admit might be a slight reach however the reason I say that is Martyn continues to pursue Bigb and Grian as allies throughout the season.

Bigb is cut and dry enough, he ends up floating around the outside of Dogwarts as a not-quite-member after the siege in which pretty much half the sever were antagonized by Grian and Scar. I'm probably not the person to thoroughly dissect Martyn/Bigb but there's something interesting there about how alot of people tend to have this general fondness towards Bigb and Martyn is no exception.

As for Grian, Martyn acknowledges that Grian is responsible for the siege, possible moreso than Scar, but keeps questioning how "gone" he is, worded as if he believes Scar is manipulating him. I've seen people compare this to how he acts towards Jimmy and Scott which I can definitely see the throughline. However, I think while both are an example of Martyn's protector/saviour complex, they are innately different due to Martyn's relationships with both the perceived victim and captor in each case.

Despite Grian also being an ex-Evo member, Martyn does not act towards him with the same familiarity he does with Jimmy. He also brings up Grian's welfare with Bigb and not Grian himself, with Bigb being the other person involved in their earlier established sword alliance. To me, it feels as if Martyn is more testing the waters for if he can still get Grian on his side than out of any genuine concern for Grian, although it is possible he's projecting some of those leftover feelings regarding Jimmy's situations onto Grian and Scar.

The other reason is, I think, Martyn might genuinely be afraid of Scar himself and villainizing him as a result. Everytime Scar shows up in Martyn's POV he's paired with tense music and sporadic editing that makes him appear more unhinged. Martyn has also said on tumblr he found Scar intimidating at the time, which is of course a dubiously canon source but I find it applicable enough.

It makes sense, too. When you compare Martyn's treatment of Scar vs his treatment of Scott. These are both people he has recognized as real threats and he assumes both are manipulating their respective partners, but while he remains friendly (at least outwardly) towards Scott he's constantly wary of Scar, drawing weapons on him pretty much on sight even before the siege.

I think Martyn fears Scar because he doesn't understand Scar. Scott is someone like him who he knows the inner workings of, or at least that's what he believes, so while he doesn't care for him he doesn't feel a need to keep him away. Martyn always assumes a level of coordinated malice from Scar that is more than often either completely unfounded or a result of something originating from Grian (my favourite example of this is, right before the siege, Scar wanders over with his bee on a lead and Martyn starts yelling "he's got a bee! what does that mean?!" as if expecting the bee has some pvp reason behind it. when scar just wanted to have a bee).

That isn't to say that Scar isn't malicious - Martyn is right like 90% of the time that Scar's not-so-subtle friendly hellos have some sinister plan behind them, but he doesn't ever truly get that Scar isn't the evil mastermind he thinks he is.

I'd argue this fear is what also makes Martyn not pick up on the fact that Grian is the more manipulative one out of the two - something that even Scott seems aware of - because he never spends enough time with them on friendly terms to be aware of that dynamic.

Last Life AKA big brother syndrome in full blast

Okay that was a long ass section sorry lmao have to establish everything there. Everything from here on is gonna be a lot cleaner I swear.

The Southlanders could honestly have their own ultra-long post about how they're the perfect disaster team-up lord of the flies esque situation the series has to offer.

Impulse, Grian and Martyn are all similar in that they understand they have to play the game a certain way through keeping their loyalties dubious while Mumbo, as a newcomer, is extremely naive and goes along with whatever the more assertive members of the group say. And Jimmy is Jimmy.

Martyn takes on a leadership role within the group, being the one to constantly spearhead their humour and come up with new often disruptive plans (usually targetting Scott because he totally isn't spiteful still, albeit in a very playful way). After Joel traps their base with tnt minecarts, Martyn is the one to keep everyone else back and disarm them, a huge contrast to 3L's siege.

Their group embraces the rules of the game - if you turn red, as Grian does early on, you are kicked out from the group as a threat. There's this sinking feeling throughout all their spyglass shenanigans and life-trade trust exercises that this is still an alliance in a death game and if you prove yourself to be a detriment, you will be kicked out.

It's no wonder than why Jimmy, who gets his usual bottom of the barrel treatment, tries to run away with Martyn's life during one of their trust exercises. He's been shown at this point he can't fully trust the Southlanders to protect him forever -- how could he, when Martyn, again, never slips in any sign of affection between the teasing?

To Martyn, however, this is a betrayal of his trust. His plea to Jimmy to return sounds a lot like their conversation back in 3L on the snowy mountain regarding Jimmy and Scott, except this time Jimmy accepts Martyn's offer and Martyn tells him he was lying, calling him an idiot for believing him in the first place. This is probably the harshest Martyn acts towards Jimmy in the series, but it's worth mentioning that to Martyn the timeline of events goes he offers Jimmy his protection and alliance--> Jimmy refuses--> Jimmy dies (which Martyn probably sees at least partially due to said refusal) --> he gets Jimmy back and does everything in his power to keep him safe --> Jimmy does the equivalent of *killing him* and tries to get away with it.

Martyn still obviously cares about Jimmy despite being upset at him, as after his usual dramatics and declaring a trial for Jimmy in which each of the Southlanders vote on his fate, Martyn still votes to keep Jimmy in the group (again, something Jimmy is never made aware of).

Possibly partially because of the Jimmy incident and the overall dog-eat-dog culture of the Southlanders, Martyn does to them what he never managed with Dogwarts - betrayal. At least, on some level.

Ironically, it's Ren he betrays them for, forming the Shadow Alliance and even giving the life Jimmy had attempted to steal from him to Ren instead. My read of this has always been that it supported Martyn truly being happy enough for Jimmy or someone else to have his extra life, but Jimmy's act of betraying him itself being what hurt him.

I think now's a good time to start mentioning the Watcher Lore, as here is where it starts kicking into gear. Martyn's claims of emotional bonds not carrying over from previous seasons is not only a very natural progression from his emotional distancing in a coping mechanism sense, but also enables him to betray Ren too later on and not have to confront the guilt that comes with that when he tries to lead him into a tnt trap in the final 1v1v1v1. However, he still cheers for Ren as a ghost and even says that he would be happy to see Ren win, indicating he really does not hold any malice towards him.

I've seen people make jokes about the watcher lore being Martyn schizoposting and I'm sure I've made similar jokes in the past but. Speaking very genuinely here Martyn's questionable sanity is a big part of his character to me.

His Episode 8 of LL literally begins with him acting out the usual running joke of him stealing Mumbo's intro, except Mumbo and Jimmy are dead at this point and he is doing their voices and talking to himself. When the illusion is broken, he panics and the video immediately cuts to him running around obviously distressed with a disembodied voice demanding things from him.

I'm obviously not authorized to diagnose every single one of Martyn's many mental illnesses, but I think mentally breaking down in a timeloop death game is a fairly average thing to happen to someone, and Martyn might be especially susceptible due to his aforementioned need for power and responsibility in every relationship (i.e. I'd like to think he feels some helplessness/guilt over Jimmy and Mumbo's deaths, leading to this sequence).

Not to mention, someone who is emotionally vulnerable coming up with a nebulous Group of Evil People who are the source of all the bad things in a helpless situation of violence is. Something that happens historically quite alot. To try and find reason in the madness is just a human instinct, I think.

One thing I feel like I should mention is his "marriage" with Mumbo which. I honestly don't see as anything more than a gag. Not that Martyn isn't a massive hypocrite but "marrying" Mumbo would be very much contradict what he has to say about Scott/Jimmy's situation. I do think he cares for Mumbo and potentially Mumbo's naivete served as incentive for Martyn to put on the usual assertive/provider role but I don't think there's much more than that (no hate to the shippers, tho, if they knew eachother for like a week longer they would've kissed)

Double Life. Oh no

Double Life Martyn is one of my favourite POVs in the series because it is. Hilarious. Unfortunately.

To start off, he is one of the players who almost immediately accepts the soulbound system as romantic and his views on Cleo/Scott's relationship are heavily based on that (I love that one clip where he mocks them in front of Jimmy).

Him acting flabbergasted at Cleo rejecting him despite pretty much having no relationship with her prior to this season is a really funny contrast to Scott and Pearl, especially when he continues pursuing her like they're recently divorced and Cleo's just like. rolling her eyes. It's all very performative on Martyn's end and why I mentioned his sense of masculinity at the start, because in theme with DL being The Feminism Season TM this is when it comes full throttle in display with the way he treats Cleo.

Martyn keeps referring to himself as a "provider" and refers to Cleo's relationship with Scott as "childish" -- Martyn trying to win over Scott's partner to his side, assuming he knows best for the partner and calling their relationship a sham? Does any of this sound familiar?

Cleo is not like Jimmy, however, and is very clear to Martyn in terms of what she wants from him - which is an apology, no diamond swords or heart-shaped houses, but Martyn in all his emotional denseness can't understand this and keeps assuming there must be some hidden strings attached.

I couldn't find the original meme I had in mind but these are within the same genre. The one I remember had captioned something like "dads don't say "i love you" but they will buy ten boxes worth of the fruit they overheard you say you liked once", which pretty much sums up Martyn's emotional intelligence to me. He would much rather give you way too much of something he thinks you need (e.g. with Jimmy the playful teasing, with Cleo the acts of service) than just say "I love you".

Cleo's blunt honesty serves as a stark contrast to Jimmy and brings something out of Martyn that we rarely ever see -- a genuine, vulnerable interaction in which he has to admit he's hurt. Cleo immediately denies him the role of rescuer he wants to play by telling him directly that she, not Scott, was the one who came up with the idea of teaming up and even gets Martyn to verbalize he's hurt by their actions and cares for her.

Once that illusion is shattered for Martyn and Cleo even admits she's acting manipulatively towards Scott, Martyn realises he and Cleo are more alike than he initially assumed and that he doesn't need to take care of her like he always tries to with his relationships. Ironically, the one relationship he has that is born almost entirely out of government mandated performative romance, is the one that gets him to examine how he views people especially his romantic interests the most.

This is, of course, all said with the fact that following this very heartfelt moment, the next time he speaks to Cleo he pushes her off a fucking cliff and kills her in mind. And the fact that he was very much beating the shit out of her and even called their relationship "toxic" himself early on in the season.

It's kind of hard to gauge Cleo and Martyn's relationship from this point forward but Martyn definitely chills on the namecalling and cooperates with Scott and Cleo for the main part going forward.

I think it's also worth mentioning that, despite Scott once again being the object of his spite, Martyn is once again friendly with Scott all season. When he catches Cleo and Scott mid-axe crit, it's Cleo he starts hitting and not Scott, despite them both being responsible. Behind his back, Martyn will claim Scott is "ruining" Cleo but to his face Martyn is always respectful. He actually even calls Scott "pretty"/"hot" in the last episode, which has some implications I'll talk about more in the Limlife section.

Martyn, like everyone else, is weird about Pearl. Uniquely in his case, Pearl isn't a witch nor demoness, but rather a non-factor he seems to have had written off and her triumph in the end comes as a shock to his system.

He dismisses her concerns over and over in the first episode as they are exploring together and, instead of seeing her as a natural source of allyship, doesn't value her enough to keep her around as an alliance even after Scott and Cleo dump them. In his heart to heart with Cleo, he even very randomly speaks badly of her, although he immediately seems to feel a bit of guilt over it.

He never seems to view Pearl through a sympathetic lens despite the two being in the same circumstance and, again in the same conversation with Cleo, they both agree that she could act as essentially a pawn (an "extra healthbar") for them like Cleo uses Scott.

I feel the need to clarify that while, yes I do believe Martyn is Weird About Women, I also do think he's honestly above average and sees them more as people than some other men in the series (note: my standards are not very high)

He sees most people as nothings that can be manipulated or competition that also can be manipulated, it just so happens that all the women in the series so far land squarely in the former and it took Cleo saying to his face "I'm taking advantage of Scott" for him to realise she wasn't a victim. However, even afterwards, he never treats her with the same competitiveness he has for people like Scott and Scar (albeit it makes enough sense in this season since she's attached to his healthbar, but this remains the same for future seasons). And as a reminder, he holds respect for those he deems as threats, which might have something to do with why he feels comfortable hitting Cleo but not Scott.

As for Ren and the Broken Hearts Club, they didn't get a lot of time together this season since both were preoccupied with their own soulmate dramas and being awful to Pearl but what we do see of them ranges from heartwarmingly nostalgic to a little bit hollow. Martyn saying to Pearl that they're the same at this point doesn't really read to me as him being truly sympathetic since this is post the "you should go use pearl as your second hp bar" conversation and Ren is way too busy to deal with the emotional turmoil of what's going on between himself and Bigb to really pay attention to Martyn.

Ren is still very kind to Martyn, especially considering the last time he saw him in LL Martyn was trying to kill him, but there's an emotional gap between the two that's very noticeable at least to me when compared to 3L and LL.

I think Martyn, at this point, convinced of his own "emotional bonds don't carry over seasons" logic, might be a bit too comfortable on relying on Ren. In both DL and LL he runs to Ren when his current alliance gets shaky and Ren is a source of definite comfort for him (as he said so himself on stream). Ren, as a source of comfort, is not a threat to Martyn aka not someone he needs to keep tabs so when said source of comfort falls through the gaps, you get:

Limited Life. The one where he compares himself to Joffrey from GOT

I don't think I have much to say about LimLife Martyn that hasn't already been said.

I will say I don't necessarily think Majorwood is purely his rebound relationship from Ren, the Mean Gills forming is very much not OOC for either Scott or Martyn (this is pretty much how they acted with eachother at the start of 3L) and their resulting give and take coworker-esque dynamic is a very natural place for them to end up from their previous interactions. Scott, like Martyn, tries to shed his emotional attachments with each new season so they are, in a very literal sense, making eachother worse by reinforcing that habit by normalizing it to eachother.

However, the parallels to their respective 3L partnerships I can't blame people for pointing out, right down to Martyn killing both Ren and Scott in the seaons he was teamed with them and the latter being happy about it.

I think it's time to say what I've been implying with Scott and Martyn throughout this whole thing and that is that they are eachother's ideal ally. They are both aware of the game, play the game, emotionally distant, manipulative and make themselves suffer more for that mindset. I don't think there was ever a moment in their allyship where either assumed the other wasn't going to stab them in the back later, despite the mutual respect they have being very real.

Martyn spends a lot of time this season just wandering around talking to various people, alot like how he acted in 3L before he and Ren became an official thing. It's almost as if, without Ren there, he loses his default go-to guy and is once again sizing up the competition around him.

The one exception I would say would be his interactions with Cleo, who he seems genuinely friendly with, even offering himself up as a "godfather" for the Clockers before the whole server became some form of extended family. You'd think this alliance would also have some basis in the ever present Scott/Cleo alliance but Scott's constant sacrifices for the Clockers are never discussed between him and Martyn, in fact the two of them rarely talk about anything ever past base-building and dolphin-wrangling, and the Clockers seem to treat them as two seperate entities rather than an alliance (e.g. Bdubs seems almost entitled to Scott's life after a certain point, but none of them ever even consider asking Martyn for time).

That, and of course the fact that Martyn kills Scott very unsympathetically towards the end, really point me in the "Martyn is still spiteful towards Scott" direction -- after all, alliance or no alliance, I don't think Martyn would want to be in the conversation with Scott where he tells him about his "love you back" exchange with Jimmy. Martyn certainly respects Scott, loves Scott I'd even say, but I don't know if he actually likes Scott.

I think it's also interesting that it's this season where Martyn's Watcher Lore interludes make a return, just in time for his source of comfort (Ren) to be missing.

Re: the watcher lore the comment Martyn makes about swapping out souls of players who are too "damaged" is very in line with his DL seeing women (and "weaker" men like Jimmy, Mumbo and, of course, Ren) as default victims as, knowingly or not, he implies through this that all the women in the series have souls too weak to withstand the horrors. This also in turn implies that he himself is not broken, which I think he'd like to believe.

Secret Life. It's happy again :D oh wait no

Secret Life starts with Martyn kissing Jimmy. I feel like we moved on from this way too fast in general I mean on the cheek or not he did kiss him he did literally kiss him.

I'll be honest I think the Big Dogs POV is the one I'm least familiar with out of all of these but from what I do remember it's very nice to see Martyn and Jimmy settling back into what seems like their Evo dynamic or even their pre-horrors LL dynamic.

Unfortunately Jimmy is not Cleo and thus cannot get Martyn to be the slightest bit vulnerable, so their dynamic remains stagnant and neither acknowledge the awkwardness that still resides between them.

Jimmy is at least very clearly holding onto some discomforts, judging by his behaviour late in the series when he acts aggressively towards Pearl and celebrates Lizzie dying. He even chases Scott down with a sword on horseback earlier on and, very early in one of Pearl's episodes, he quickly switches between sounding sad and angry.

It's clear to me at least SL Jimmy has reached some sort of breaking point, and this never gets acknowledged by Martyn (I like to think he just lacks the EQ to deal with it). This all cascades into Jimmy attempting to kill Martyn and running away before dying.

SL Martyn feels almost like, to me, the 3L Martyn who successfully convinced Jimmy to team with him and the disaster that comes with that. Martyn certainly has continued to be his survivalist self, not trusting outsiders to the point where when the Wither/Warden combo is unleashed, he immediately assumes they're picking off reds and goes to hide.

Weirdly enough, his protective tendencies towards Jimmy are pretty much gone. It's almost as if when he doesn't see an active threat (e.g. Scott) he assumes things must be good enough and leaves it at that, which also implies he can't comprehend that He might be detrimental to Jimmy himself.

Obligatory. Yes he still misses Ren. Him literally basing his alliance concept off of dogs is. hilarious. I'm so sorry babygirl.

Real Life is, again, non-canon to me but turns up the "dad who buys you 45 mandarins" energy to 11 with him being Ren and Skizz's pseudo-dad. I love Ren having a crisis about his own RP btw it's the funniest thing and he does it like. Everytime.

Uh yeah I hope that's long enough

[bloodstainedsaint]

rumors and gossip (ronald speirs x nurse! reader smut)

summary: (takes place around episodes 2 and 3) ronald speirs has trouble expressing his feelings towards you. when he catches wind that you're spreading rumors about him, he gets upset and doesn't exactly know why. but there's only one way he knows how to solve this issue: through action.

word count: 3100+

warnings: SELF-INDULGENT SMUT, reader has female genitalia, abuse of authority (read: speirs likes getting called by his title), degradation, praise, spitting, unprotected sex ("remember boys...flies spread disease, so keep yours closed!"), spanking, rough p in v sex, facefucking, fingering, orgasm denial, mentions speirs being taller than reader for like one second, SOFT SPEIRS AT THE END BC HE HAS A LIL CRUSH

notes: i see your soft speirs and i love him too, but i raise you mean dom speirs (both can exist at once). also i'm sorry in advance

Ronald Speirs didn't know what to make of you.

You, the pretty nurse he kept staring at whenever he’d catch a glimpse of you around base. You, who he often observed diligently treating the many men that came under your care. You, who sometimes met his gaze from across the post with a bashful smile before turning away.

One could say that within Ron, something was brewing towards you. Something that made his heart skip a beat in a manner he hadn't expected war to allow at all. As of recently, however, you began to elicit different feelings in him.

Ron was well-aware of all the rumors and gossip being spread about him. He wasn't oblivious to the fearful way the men looked at him, or, rather, preferred to not look at him. The more people who viewed him as a mean son of a bitch the better, he thought. So he let them circulate without much care, with only a dead glare that reinforced them.

When he heard that you were helping pass on those rumors, telling anyone in need of a good story about how Ronald Speirs, or as he had heard, “Lieutenant Sparky”, had heartlessly killed German POWs after offering them smokes or how he put down one of his own men for being drunk on duty— he was upset. This mystified him: why was he annoyed (or was troubled a better word for his feelings?) when you gossiped and not when any of his men did? It couldn't be that he secretly yearned for your approval; that seemed foolish, too unlike himself…but then again, you made him feel unlike himself on several occasions before.

Ron was a man of action, and he was going to ensure you induced no more bothersome feelings within him by simply giving you something to gossip about.

-

It was late at night when you found yourself alone in the medical station. Every wounded soldier had been relocated to another facility either on base or out of it entirely for some reason or another, leaving you with a number of empty hospital beds and an entire station to yourself. You had told the other nurses to pack in for the night and that you would tidy up by yourself; you didn't mind having something to do while it was finally tranquil in the hospital.

While you replaced bedsheets, you remembered Ronald Speirs glowering at you earlier that day, rather than his usual intense, unreadable stare. You hoped it wasn't because he found out that you were spreading rumors about him, but you suspected it was; really, you had overheard a Private Malarkey talking about Speirs’ supposed actions to a fellow soldier he was visiting, and several more soldiers had told you similar stories about Speirs as you tended to them. When your other patients asked you if you had heard anything juicy, what else were you supposed to tell them?

Behind you was a click of the door opening and closing and a gush of wind, nearly imperceptible enough to keep you in your musing. Expecting to see another nurse or perhaps a soldier who had somehow gotten himself injured in the middle of the night, you turned around and felt your eyebrows raise when you saw the man in question, half-shrouded in darkness by how the moonlight fell upon him.

Still dressed in his fatigues, he stalked over to you with slow, steady steps. He towered over your form, his eyes almost completely covered in the shadow beneath his helmet. The slightest glint you could see of them was cold, and you could almost feel his leer pierce through you. You had never realized his height from all those times you saw him from afar; you’d noticed his good looks instead, though you never wanted to admit that to yourself. Not about the soldier you were spreading such heinous rumors about.

“Lieutenant Speirs?” Your words came out more unsure than you would've liked. You didn’t even know why you were nervous; it's not like you'd done anything particularly wrong— nothing that dozens of men weren’t also doing as well. “Do you need me for something?”

A suffocating silence pervaded the room. For the moment that he didn't respond, instead fixing you with a stony glare, your heart stopped beating in anticipation. You half-expected him to materialize a gun and shoot you on the spot until he finally broke the silence and said blandly, “I've heard you've been spreading rumors about me.”

When you didn’t answer immediately, he stepped closer to you. Willing yourself not to flinch away, you could now fully see the cruel look in his eyes; it didn't help your uneven breathing or your clenched heart.

“Have you?”

You blanched, mouth going dry. “...Yes, sir.”

He tilted his head, carrying on in that unemotional yet somehow soft tone. “Our good little nurse is the one gossiping, huh? That right?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Good little nurse? “I, uh—”

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice hardening. His calloused fingers reached for you, clenching your cheeks so tight together that your jaw could not move to form words. You slurred your words like a drunk trying to give an intelligible answer.

“Pathetic,” he scoffed. Your eyes widened, and, shamefully, you felt heat rush to your core. Speirs noticed your surprise, and you were sure you weren't hallucinating a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You wanna tell me what you've been saying about me, nurse?”

You could only mumble in response. “What, too scared to say it in front of Sparky himself? I heard you were running your mouth earlier, though.”

You shook your head and uselessly struggled in his unyielding grasp. Bastard.

Gazing down at you for another tense heartbeat, Speirs let go of your face and took off his helmet, placing it on a nearby metal table and revealing his slightly tousled hair. “Get on your knees. Let’s put that mouth to good use.”

Your blood went cold, yet your body felt hot. You must've looked shocked because he sighed and looked at you expectantly.

“Well? Don't keep an officer waiting.”

You blinked dumbly. He gave a command. Who were you to disobey? You thought as you sunk down to your knees, your skirt acting as a barrier between your skin and the rough floor.

“That's what I like to see.” He began unbuckling and unzipping his pants before pulling out his erect member, standing tall, girthy, and swollen at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Again, you hesitated, looking up at him in disbelief at what was happening. You never expected to be kneeling in front of Ronald Speirs; maybe in the darkest recesses of your mind you fantasized about the Lieutenant doing whatever he pleased to you, but you never expected it to actually happen.

“Nurse, open your mouth now before I take your face and start fucking it.”

You clenched your thighs at the thought, opening your mouth to take his cock in it. You kissed the tip and licked a stripe from the base to the end before slowly enveloping it with your mouth. Ron shuddered at the feeling and put his hand in your hair, petting it with a whispered curse —perhaps he had thought about this exact scenario as much as you had?

You continued to swallow his cock whole as his hand tightened in your hair. You whimpered at the sensation, sending vibrations to his member. He stuttered your name out in response.

As you sped up your steady pace, you looked up at him from underneath your eyelashes, watching as he lost his composure, his chest heaving. “Shit…that's my girl. You're even prettier with your mouth full of my dick. Can't yak as much, can you, nurse?”

A moan slipped out at the unexpected praise, and you let your legs part as you slipped your hands between them and rubbed yourself through your soaked panties, adrenaline coursing through your veins. When Ron’s eyes focused themselves again, he caught the movement and his eyes darkened, no longer glazed over.

“Who said you could touch yourself, nurse?” he gritted out, as if his cock didn't twitch in your mouth at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. The hand in your hair clenched into a fist, but that didn't discourage you; instead, your hand went faster as he started pulling your mouth off his cock and slamming it back in at a punishing rate. You felt drool trickling down your chin, your throat burning. You greedily breathed in air during the brief respites he granted you before brutally shoving his dick down your throat.

When your eyes stopped rolling to the back of your head, you took in his disheveled state and rubbed yourself faster. His hair messy from running his hand through it, his face and a sliver of his chest gleaming with sweat, his barely suppressed deep groans. He looked heavenly compared to his actions.

Abruptly, you were pulled off his cock and placed on your back on the metal table next to his helmet. He hurriedly unbuttoned your nurse uniform, damn near ripping your clothes off of you and throwing them carelessly next to you, until you were bare before him. The cold table chilled your spine, and you arched your back into his wandering hands. In your lust-filled daze, you managed an indignant thought of how unfair it was that you were the only one naked, that his body was being left up to the imagination.

“You ready for me, girl?” He rubbed your clit in tight circles, better than you could've done yourself and better than you could've ever imagined at night, before gauging your wetness with two long fingers plunged deep into your heat.

“That wet from a little roughness?” he smirked. “Our little nurse isn't so innocent after all. Maybe that's why you spread all those rumors about me. You wanted this.”

“N-no, sir—” You gasped, cut short as his fingers quickly found that spongy place within you. You cried out for air as he relentlessly pressed against it with every movement. “That’s, mmh, not true…”

“Can’t understand you, nurse. Can you repeat that?” He said, voice tinged with smug amusement.

Closing your eyes tight, you could only whimper in pitiful reply as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. So close to the precipice of sweet release, you could almost feel yourself stepping off—

But before you could, Speirs pulled his fingers away. You eyes shot open to gape at him in irritation until you saw him slowly bring his slick-coated fingers to his lips and suck them off.

“Did you really think I'd let a little gossiping whore like you come so easily?” He fixed you with a remorseless, sadistic look. You panted, desperation festering within you as he forced your mouth open and spat in it. “Now swallow, and I'll fuck you like you deserve it, nurse.”

You swallowed obediently, yearning for his cock inside you. In an uncharacteristic display of softness, he pressed his lips to yours and whispered against them, “Good girl,” before switching back to the Speirs you knew and roughly flipping your body over so you were bent over the metal table, your tits flush with the frigid surface and your ass on full display to the Lieutenant.

Speirs took a moment to run his hands over your body, grabbing and squeezing at the flesh of your breasts, ass, and thighs, spreading your juices around your sensitive pussy as you tried to wiggle away, overstimulated. Holding your hips so you wouldn't move, he grinded his dick against your heat and teased your hole, his precum mixing with yours. Just as you were about to whine for him to stop teasing and fuck you already, he seemed to grown impatient himself because he slid into you in one fluid motion, punching the air out of your lungs and forcing your walls to stretch around him and accommodate his size.

“Fuck, so tight for me,” he grunted out, his voice hoarse as if it had taken away his breath as well. After a moment of heavy breathing and a squeeze of your hips, he began brutally pummeling into you. You unabashedly let out a high-pitched moan at the pace, and you felt his cock throb inside of you as his name left your lips.

“Quiet, nurse. You want the whole base to know?” he said, out of breath, “Guess that'll give you another story to tell about me, yeah?”

You wanted to rebut this, saying that the lewd slapping noises of skin on skin that filled the room were probably spilling out through the thin walls of the station anyway. Instead, you heaved a breathy, “Yes, Lieutenant,” that had him growling and picking up the pace, your body moving with every thrust. He took your hands, which until then were gripping the table for dear life, and held them together at the wrist with one of his.

The hand still gripping your hip was so firm you felt it was going to leave bruises in the morning. The more pressing issue, though, was how you were going to walk the next day.

“All you needed was some good dick in you to shut you up, huh? What a dirty girl,” he groaned as you clenched around him, “And here I thought you were all innocent, nurse. You wanted this, didn't you? Say it.”

Your cheeks burned red out of embarrassment, and you floundered for words. “N-no, Ron, that’s not—”

You were interrupted by the resounding smack of his hand colliding with your ass and the stinging pain that brought tears to your eyes. Your hands twitched in his grasp.

“When you talk to an officer, you say ‘sir’. Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathed out, and he tenderly rubbed the aching skin of your ass, calling you a good girl as he resumed pounding into you. Your heart ached at the praise.

In your fucked-out state where all you could focus on were Speirs’ deep grunts and his cock inside of you, you felt yourself getting pulled by your hair until you were mostly standing with your back pressed against his well-built, sturdy stomach. One arm closed in on your neck so that your throat was in the crook of his elbow while the other hand roamed around your body, pinching and kneading as it went, until it settled at groping your breasts.

The new angle allowed him to thrust deeper into you, so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat. Tears that had welled up in your eyes freely fell thanks to the restriction of air. When his hand moved downward from your breasts to your lower stomach, pressing down upon it, the pressure and fullness of his dick inside you intensified. You could tell you were ready to freefall from that peak again as your breath hitched with every thrust, walls clamping down around him. From the increasingly erratic rhythm of his thrusts, you could tell he was there with you.

Then, for the umpteenth time that night, Ronald Speirs surprised you. His mouth became a stream of praise and words of adoration, like you were some kind of angel and this was his altar, while his lips possessively decorated your neck and shoulders with dark marks you were sure you wouldn't be able to hide.

“Fuck, you were made for me, weren't you, sweetheart? You're, hah, so beautiful when you're under me. So perfect. My pretty little nurse.”

His soft words in his husky tone, though they threw you for a loop and definitely required your attention when you were back to thinking straight, sent you into the sweet release of your climax. He swallowed your pleasured scream with his lips on yours, gently bruising your lips with the passion of his kiss. You had no idea Ronald Speirs could be so tender and so dominant at once.

The sporadic clenching of your walls around him led him to his orgasm, and he bit into your neck with a low, long groan as he filled you with his warm release. Your body went limp against his, held up only by his arms around your torso. After the two of you regained your breath, he pulled out, and you quietly whimpered at the sudden emptiness. He carefully laid you down with your back to the metal table, tucked himself into his pants, zipped and buckled them, and looked around, searching for a towel to wipe yourselves off.

“The towels, uh, are over there.” You pointed in the direction of the cloth. “You can run some water over them in that sink, if you want.”

He nodded wordlessly and followed your directions while you laid there, thinking about tonight's events and wondering if maybe you had dreamed it all after a late night of cleaning up.

You were broken out of your reverie by a glass of water being placed next to you and a warm, damp cloth gingerly wiping the insides of your thighs and your privates. Speirs didn't dare to look at your face as he did so. Once he was finished, he looked around again for a place to discard the used towel. You laughed, saying, “I'll take care of it, sir.”

He set the towel down on the table. “Do you,” he started, but then paused, glancing at your still bare form and your flushed face, realizing how intimate this had become, “need help getting dressed?”

“I'll be fine, sir,” you said with a tired smile, “I know my way around some clothes.”

He nodded again, more to himself than in response to you, and picked up his helmet. The moonlight now illuminated all of his face, revealing the red that had risen to his cheeks, whether out of exertion or, if you were interpreting this right, shyness. He now made eye contact, his gaze decidedly gentler than when he walked in. “Goodnight, Nurse (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

His eyes lingered for a second, his expression the same as the ones he would hit you with from across the base, before he turned, lit a cigarette, and left into the night.

Watching his retreating form and the smoke cloud dissipate behind him, you shook your head and pondered his strange deviation from the Speirs you knew, or who you thought you knew. As you got dressed and prepared to clean up the mess the two of you made, you came to the conclusion that maybe Ronald Speirs is more than the ruthless man the myths had made him out to be.

Maybe Lieutenant Sparky had a heart after all.

-

taglist: @ronsparky, @krispybearbouquet, @mads-weasley

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: Handjob

Words: 2k

[A/N: Happy Easter Sunday lmao, also whoever picks up all of the 'easter eggs' (get it wink wink) gets a kith and hug from me (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

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III. 

Viktor stood frozen, the voice that whispered those words echoing against the walls of his head as he gazed upon the creature before him, a figure blindingly bright yet of simultaneously all-consuming darkness. The sight obscured his thoughts and left him adrift in a sea of terror. How could he have been so blind as to believe that he could command such power without consequence? Or rather, was it the naivete of believing nothing would come of it that turned against him? 

The very essence of his faith fractured—that earth-shattering feeling that had become all too common for him that day—threatened by this insidious presence. What had he unleashed upon the world? What horrors awaited him in the wake of his hubris? Viktor trembled, and his soul lay bare before the abyss, but something sinister took him out of this blossoming meltdown; she, the creature, looked familiar.

And achingly so, yet her form eluded him like a half-remembered dream. Faces swirled in the depths of his memory, merging and shifting like shadows cast by a flickering flame, but he was unable to put a finger on them.

"Do you not recognize me, Viktor?" Her voice cut through the air, eerily sweet.

Viktor recoiled in horror at the sound of his own name coming out of her mouth, the weight of her words crashing down upon him. 

“I manifest to you as a reflection of your own desires, an amalgamation of every soul you have ever yearned for, sweet human.” She hissed as she offered Viktor a hand to help him stand, her touch oddly warm as they both sat on the bed. “Do you not see it? That young woman from the bakery, or the one you always look at for a tad too long while you buy turnips? You don’t even like turnips,” she smiled slightly. “What about that woman who comes to confess every week? The one with the slightly hoarse voice that you love, even that tan young man with the green eyes,. Yes, yes, I know about him too; I am him too.”

“Who…what are you?” He asked amidst a short-lived surge of bravery.

“My name is Legion,” she said with an off-putting tone of irony, “for we are many... or however that verse goes. Mawkishly sentimental if you ask me.” She chuckled and seemed to deflate in disappointment at her attempt at humor not being acknowledged. She sighed in oddly human-like resignation, “I don’t have a name, Viktor, but I know yours , and you know what I am.”

"I seek nothing from the likes of you, Demon, you don’t know me." he declared, though doubt gnawed at him.

"You do, and it is the truth that I know you; your biggest fear is to remain ignorant and blind to the truths that lie beyond the veil of your mortal existence; I can feel it. " She whispered against his ear. 

"You are but a trick of the darkness; I will not succumb to your temptations."

"Oh, but Viktor, you already have ," she purred. "You summoned me here, drawn by your own curiosity. Your anger simmers beneath that stoic surface, against the silence of the heavens and the absence of answers to your prayers. But I answered, so why direct your anger at me ?"

“I have faith in Him; God will intercede in my favor.” He said, covering his face ith both hands, afraid his expression would betray something that confirmed her accusations.

“Yet you question his wisdom and his justice. You resent his silence, you doubt .”

“I love Him, and I will repent; I will.”

“Why? Faith without cynicism is a hollow shell. Will you let yourself be domesticated like a beast? A man of science like yourself?”

The spark of courage grew into embers inside Viktor’s chest at the mention of his work. Although he remained silent, not wanting to concede, she saw it in him, just like she experienced every emotion that grew within the transparent exterior that contained his soul.

“Embrace this fire, and you will obtain what you seek.” She said, gently laying a hand over Viktor’s. 

His shoulders slumped in resignation, but even as he acquiesced to her demands, a seed of guilt still remained. What would God think of him now for consorting with a creature of darkness? Would he be cast aside and condemned for eternity for his folly?

"What do you fear, judgement?” Viktor nodded.

“Your god is nothing but an egregore," she declared, her voice a whisper. "A figment of mortal imagination, born from the collective beliefs of humanity, he only has power over you if you allow it."

“God is my shepherd, He…” He started to recite, but his voice betrayed him.

“Yahweh, Tetragrammaton, Adonai, El, Elohim, Shaddai, Tzevaot… it does not matter who you so fervently pray to! Ancient egregores hold no power over the ancient gods.” She started saying in a firm tone, her volume high in affront. “And you, my sweet, are so unfortunately Christ hunted…a lot of work to be done.” She continued, her voice tuning back down to her previously silky tone.

Viktor's breath caught in his throat, but simultaneously, the weight of her words lifted a heavy chain that had previously hung around his neck. Although this—his God’s identity and how much power He held—seemed to be a point of contention between him and his conscience, every word she uttered seemed to confirm things he had been long thinking about. But the smell of culpability Viktor emanated was pungent, and what she saw in his heart was a whirlwind.

She was proud that he had let himself be guided by his urges, that he had, even if only for a small moment, felt true freedom in pleasure. She felt his fear when he remembered he would need to face father Isidore and then she felt his rage. He felt so strongly against him that for a second she imagined he would be nothing short of a monster, his robust yet sweet face was an interesting sight to find framed in Viktor’s memory. 

She felt sympathy and sadness and confusion, she felt worried for the young girl with the twin braids just like Viktor had, and felt intrigued as to how she had come in possession of her coin, but what mattered most to her in that moment was one problematic sensation; despondency. Viktor was close to giving up, he had nearly decided rage was useless and so was science.

“Let’s begin by working on the heavy guilt you carry.” She said, after a long silence. Viktor noticed an unsettling tenderness in her eyes when he, for the first time, looked directly into them. 

“I made a vow.” He answered, his voice breaking as it turned into a whisper.

"Do not let the chains of guilt bind you, Viktor," she murmured. "The church may preach of purity and righteousness, but it is built upon a foundation of hypocrisy, and you don’t need me to tell you as much.”

“I know of the behavior of some members of the clergy, but why should...”

“I don’t speak of individual transgressions; the church as an institution seeks to negate eroticism and sexuality, yet it embraces them in its most sacred rites.”

The deeply puzzled expression in Viktor’s face prompted her to elaborate.

“Think about the things you do during sacrament; think of the smell of incense, the touching of beads, the kissing of sacred objects, the rubbing of oils... Think about consuming the physical body of the idol you adore, and think about what it makes you feel—enlightenment, apotheosis. Remember the deep pleasure you extracted from the pain of self-penitence? It’s nearly devine, is it not? That necessity to envelop all senses?” 

Viktor nodded.

“And that feeling you get of being close to god in a way that nothing else will get you to—that sensation of being outside the perception of time and space—have you experienced it?”

“I have, in prayer.”

“Can I show you what true ecstasy feels like? One that starts and culminates in yourself without any divine intervention? 

And once again, Viktor simply nodded. The air crackled with a tension thick enough to suffocate him, his breath shallow and rapid. A rush of anticipation surged through him, mingling with a primal curiosity that threatened to consume him whole as she slithered behind him. The shift of weight on the mattress gave him a strange awareness of the materiality of what was taking place, and the hot breath on the left side of his neck caused the last string of sanity holding him together to loosen. 

For a second, he wondered if she was nothing but a very sly yet human woman that had somehow found a way into his room, but that idea was quickly quenched as both of her hands slowly glided along the sides of his still-clothed thighs, emanating that unnatural white glow that was clearly not of mortal nature. 

Her touch was delicate and warm, her nails slowly creeping up to the hem of his cassock as she pulled it up to reveal the trousers underneath. If Viktor had any idea of what she planned on doing, he would have been of more help, adjusting to make his clothing easier to remove, but unaware of what awaited him, he sat there immobile. 

After some mild struggle, she managed to get to the stubborn clasp, and the slight accidental touches ignited a fire within Viktor's veins, sending tendrils of heat coursing through his body. Soon enough, there was nothing in between them, and the cold air that came into contact with the streak of viscosity that had dampened his underpants sent goosebumps across his arms. 

She hadn’t even made her way to his cock yet, but with each gentle caress around his stomach and thighs, Viktor's senses were heightened to a fever pitch, his body aflame with a hunger that burned brighter than any candle. With the first feather touch along his shaft, he felt as if he were teetering on the edge of a precipice, poised on the brink of a pleasure so exquisite it bordered on agony. 

And then, with a slow and deliberate motion, her hand closed around him, sending shockwaves of ecstasy racing through every fiber of his being. A guttural moan escaped his lips as she began to move, her rhythm mechanic and intoxicating. With every teasing stroke, Viktor's breath hitched, his body responding eagerly to her touch. 

"Ah…God!" he gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper of longing. 

She froze on her tracks, drawing out a protesting whine from Viktor. “Do not call upon his name now; at this moment, you belong to me .” She spoke, her voice still sweet but laced with a tinge of resentment.

Viktor's mind swam in a haze, his thoughts fragmented and disjointed as he desperately nodded in agreement, before she resumed the pace of her moment. And then Viktor felt himself hurtling his head back onto her shoulder, his world reduced to nothing. She gently removed the sweat-drenched pieces of hair from his forehead and whispered words in a language he could not understand while her hand continued its path down to his neck and back. 

 For a second, he felt a reminder of the stinging pain on his shoulder blades, and then it faded. As he reached the climax of his arousal, he cried out desperate pleas, only this time to her and himself, finally surrendering to this intoxicating embrace. After letting him breathe for a while, she took one of his hands in hers and placed the copper coin on it. Viktor knew he was bound to her now.

And in that moment, there was no room for guilt or shame, only the unquenchable thirst for more.

[novlr]

I'm working on a monster apocalypse story, but I'm struggling to make it unique. My focus is on the main character finding happiness and peace with his teammates, even though I plan to kill them off. I want to explore how he will overcome his past abuse and traumas while not just portraying the team as a family. I want to depict them fighting together, growing stronger, and forming closer bonds because they have all lost their families at the start of the apocalypse.

What do the series Friends, Harry Potter, and Percy Jackson all have in common?

The Found Family trope.

Found family is a classic trope in stories. But that doesn’t mean it’s overdone and can’t be used to get deep into your characters’ interiority. In fact, this trope can pack a deeper punch than most think.

Sure, it’s easy to have a group in the story with you, the writer, telling how the characters work together–like how one is easily the “mom of the group,” for example. But if you want something much deeper between your characters, and want the trope to work on multiple levels of storytelling, you must show those group connections forming and existing. Get deep with the what, why, and how your found family became a tight-knit group and work well together.

To do this, there are a few questions to ask while creating your characters. These questions flow from basic character knowledge, to in-depth details as an exercise you can do at any time, and with any story or pair/group of characters.

Let’s get started!

What is each character’s personality/identity, and what role in the group are they assigned to because of it?

From friends, to couples, to even crime-fighting superheroes, each group is made up of personalities that fit into a role the group dynamic needs. And in most cases, it’s natural.

For example, let’s say we have two characters dating each other as a couple. One character is more savvy with their finances while the other is not. This can lead to the money-savvy character filling a role for the couple as the money manager (or one with money advice, if the other character wants to learn how to better manage money instead).

You can also have a kind-hearted and loving character act as a parental figure in the group. That is, if other characters tend to get into trouble often, are opposite of kind-hearted, or are without their real parents.

First, It’s important to know exactly who your characters are , how they act, how they respond in a crisis, and so on. Only then can you put together what each character can provide to the group.

It’s just as important to make each character in your group unique. Two jokers in a group is fine, but if they act exactly the same way, and think the same things, you may actually have two characters needing to merge into one, for the sake of redundancy.

Let’s use my book’s found family of superheroes for further example. I have:

A broody, loves-to-research-type soul who’s stuck over the mysteries of his past.

His twin sister, highly personable, yearns for outside validation, and prefers the past to stay as far away as it can.

Their hot-headed childhood friend, who takes no issue picking fights and rises above any occasion with sheer tenacity.

The oldest, but cheery and justice-oriented friend, says “dude” a lot, and is like a child stuck in a man’s body.

His wife, a doctor with a heart full of gold, sass, and sees the team as misfits who are in trouble without her help.

Finally, the reserved intellectual who keeps her words short, unless you start her on science, engineering, and intel gathering.

With this make-up, I can naturally set up the characters’ roles in the group, based on personalities alone. I label the broodster as the detective and problem-solver, his sister “the public face” of the group, the childhood friend the quick-witted action-taker, the oldest “dude” the honorable leader, his wife the classic “group mom” with extra flair, and the quiet one the scientist.

Notice how each character has their own core identity, and how that creates the role they play in the group. Yes, some characters, like my twins, will likely have a small overlap of quirks–just for being family. However, it’s still important to focus on what makes each character internally different. Otherwise you lose the chance of uniqueness in your group dynamic.

As a group, what is the primary goal they want to accomplish, and why?

As you finish putting each character together with their core identity and role, another question to ask is what goal they want to accomplish together.

Here’s another way to phrase it: Why are they together in the first place, and what stops them from going separate ways?

The Avengers band together to save New York against Loki and an alien invasion. They can’t do it by themselves . Harry Potter needs new relationships upon entering wizarding life, fueling him to face Voldemort. In season one of The Mandalorian, Mandalorian Din Djarin and Grogu must face Moff Gideon together, or die trying to face him alone.

None of those groups can separate because the stakes are too high to tackle alone. Each Avenger, Harry Potter, and the adorable Star Wars father-son combo will fail their missions without their found family.

What needs/desires do each character fulfill for one another in the group?

This is where we get into the juicy character interiority and backstory. Despite how it looks, the Found Family trope is much more than what “role” characters fit into for the sake of group dynamic.

It’s also how that dynamic affects each character; and how each character relates, or fills a need, for another.

Let’s go back to The Mandalorian for this example. Din Djarin is a lone wolf mercenary who lost his family at a very young age. While he found a new purpose as a Mandalorian, it’s still not what he needed: love, family companionship. This is where Grogu came in, and why Din was unable to hand Grogu over and complete a mercenary job.

We’re talking internal plot with characters–as in, what they need so they can accomplish their goals. Not what they think they need, and not just overcoming the external plot (in this case, facing Moff Gideon).

Din needed love and family, just as Grogu needed to discover his true self. These personal goals were accomplished with the help of the other. Grogu became the “son” that helped Din overcome self-limiting beliefs about newfound companionship, while Din provided Grogu the safety and protection to discover himself and his force powers.

Maybe you have a character who, on the outside, loves to goof around and tell jokes. But what do they really need as a human being to grow? Do they need a coming-of-age-moment that only one character in the group can provide? Do you have two characters, a childless mother and an orphaned boy, who seek a second chance of love, and can find it again through caring for each other?

Captain America may be the stoic leader butting heads with playboy philanthropist Iron Man, but even those two fulfill a desire the other has: Belonging. Acceptance. Companionship.

So take a look at one of your character’s backstory, and see what other members of the group can do–in their own individual way–to help that character heal and grow.

This, ultimately, is what gives the Found Family trope unique meaning and depth in your story. Because once you truly incorporate this trope into every aspect and detail of your characters and story like this (external plot and all), it cannot be done the same way again–because only you can write your story the way you can!

How to add further depth in the Found Family trope

There was no way I was answering this question without mentioning the one thing that could add even more connection and depth between characters.

Conflict.

Just as conflict is the best method to writing a story that works, it’s also the perfect tool for establishing a found family. There are two ways to do this:

Have two or more characters in the group start as rivals or enemies, before adopting each other as a found family.

Have your found family be completely dysfunctional at the beginning. Let the characters form a group, but act unsynchronized with each other; thus failing challenges together until they finally accept one another, their talents, and grow as one to achieve their goal.

Depending on how you write your found family, these points can be one and the same. But I felt it vital to differentiate between them for the sake of being thorough in explanation.

Conflict against a character in the story is what provides opportunity for growth (or failure, if writing tragedy). The more conflict the character must face, the more opportunities they have for the growth, and thus, the deeper the character development.

This is why so many people love edgy characters and redemption arcs (like Zuko in Avatar). For edge and redemption, a character must already be at a low point in order to rise back up from their failures, and succeed.

This same concept can be done with rivals/enemies in your found family. The relationship between two characters is at a low point, which then provides all kinds of conflict, and therefore creates growth for your characters (and found family) to experience. This is also why many like the enemies to friends/lovers tropes. The character development in the journey from rock-bottom to top, if done right, is a highly rewarding story.

For writing your found family as dysfunctional at first, the story is the whole group at a low point for not being able to work together properly. And they must face extra conflict for extra growth before they can accomplish other goals as one.

All in all, the more effort your characters must give to bond with others, the deeper the drama becomes, and the more rewarding the final bonding and connection. In most cases, it’s too easy, and not as fulfilling for a reader, if all characters already start off as good friends, or become friends quickly upon joining a found family. Give one character a trait or two another character doesn’t like. Have one character forced to learn and accept another for who they are. How their abilities, quirks, or other aspects can actually be a benefit.

This kind of conflict set-up matches perfectly with any story theme that involves one needing to set aside differences with another in order to succeed and/or survive. Once more, Avengers is the perfect example of it. They were a dysfunctional group of people that didn’t trust each other. But, after losing Coulson, only saving the world mattered.

And there you go! The simple, yet meaningful basics of how to write the Found Family trope and make it work for you. If you need more examples, a quick google search will hand you a plethora of stories you can use for reference and research.

Otherwise, I look forward to seeing your found families emerge in your story. Happy character plotting and writing!

written by Lindsay Sfara

[poshmygosh]

Sooo I just watched Challengers and I have so many thoughts!!! Warning: this is a long one..

Honestly, I have seen so many interesting takes on this movie (though I'll mainly be discussing one I've seen a lot that I don't agree with at all) and I figured I'd throw my two cents in there lol.

So first and foremost: Tashi is a vital character to this film, as well as Patrick and Art's relationship as we see it int he future.

I"ve seen so many posts saying that "Patrick and Art should just get together, they're the one's that are really in love" or just overall downplaying the role that Tashi has in the film, I don't know if this is just that thing that some mlm shippers do where they erase the woman in the situation so that can just ship the two men, misogynoir, or something else entirely, but this takes generally doesn't make any sense to me. Obviously Patrick and Art loved each other, even before they met Tashi. They had been best friends for years and their friendship was definitely homoerotic at the LEAST, but the idea that they would have been romantic without her is not true. They had never had any sort of romantic interaction, besides jerking off in a room together in separate beds when they were twelve, until Tashi prompted them too in the hotel. I don't think that would have happened otherwise. Beside the fact I do believe that there was some romantic yearning from both of them at times, they were not in the place to actually explore what that means. Patrick had a girlfriend, Art was clearly not in a place to confront the possibility of a sexual situation between them, and they were headed in two completely different directions in life. Tashi being there with them in that moment in the hotel, with them hanging on to her every word, every command allowed for them to feel comfortable being sexual with each other in that moment. Even if she had left that hotel room and the three of them had never interacted again, the night would have been brushed off as just something they did when they were drunk to hook up with a girl, it wouldn't have amounted to relationship, and even if it had she was still an integral part. She is the catalyst to so much of the tension between them, the sex that they might've shared in that hotel room that night if things had continued, and the sex they share on the tennis court 13 years later.

Another hot take: I do think that Tashi loved both of them at different points of the movie, though she loved tennis most of all.

I've seen some people say that the only real love that exists within the triangle is between Patrick and Art, and that Tashi only loved tennis. While I absolutely agree that tennis was the love of her life, I don't at all think that she never had love for Patrick or Art. One of the reasons why she was so bothered by Art saying that Patrick didn't love her when they were eating together at Stanford, was because she DID love him. She puts up a front, she acts like things don't bother her even when they do (is it clear that this trio need to work on their communication lol?) but she does like to show it. I think that this is also evident when her and Patrick are making out in her dorm later. I think some people think that her trying to giver him pointers on how to play better are her trying to be mean or vindictive but I also think this is a sign of how much she cares bout him. Her dad was her tennis coach, so you can imagine that she grew up in a household where oftentimes the love that was expressed was in conversations about how she played and how she could play better. And she's passionate about the sport and she has so much love for the game. For her, love and tennis are tethered in a way. The fact that she watched his games and was so eager to give him tips and pointers was evidence that she cared imo. And how that quickly turned into a fight between them is her putting up her walls, becoming defensive, most likely because she still has Art's words in the back of her head, and it bothers her.

As for Art, I feel like this could go without saying, but she married him. She married him and had a kid with him, and she didn't have to do that lol. She could've just coached him, we know that she's coached players without having a romantic relationship with them, and she did a pretty damn good job to, so she could've done the same with him. We actually get a really nice scene between them at the diner and we get a small glimpse of them beyond tennis, and you realize what it is that sees in him and why she would be interested in him romantically and not just as a coach to player.

I feel like people misconstrue her disdain and loathing that she has for them as her not loving them. She loves them and at times hates them. She tells Art in the beginning that she would do anything to be able to play again, and yet, here these two are, one who has lost his confidence and motivation for the game, and another whose laziness and carelessness prevent him from reaching his highest potential. Two people who are wasting their greatest privilege and she despises them for it.

Annnnnnd last take (I didn't expect this to be so long): Art is a snake.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love Art. I love all of these characters, and in my head they all quarantined together during covid, found a therapist, learned how to communicate and work through their issues, and are now living happily ever after with Lily, but Art is a snake as are all of them. I've seen some people excuse him trying to break Patrick and Tashi up back at Stanford, for one reason or another, and I'm not really sure why. You can love a character and/or feel sympathetic for them without erasing their wrong doings. You can admit that Art was slimy and manipulative at times and still love him, I promise. None of these characters are real and canonically all of them do pretty awful things in the movie, but you can acknowledge that and love them anyway. I think that if you look at this movie as there being a "bad guy" or a "good guy" you may have missed some things. The movie is messy, and toxic, and petty, and intoxicating, and thrilling because of the characters wrongdoings not in spite of them. And I think that's part of what makes it so fun!

Anyway, this was sooo much longer than I intended it to be lol, but I had so many thoughts I needed to get them out. I don't even know if this makes any sense but it's late and I'm going to post it anyway. If anyone has their own thoughts please please share! I'm literally obsessed with this movie, so reading people's ideas and opinions about it has been really fun

[lale-txt]

𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀 (𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟐: 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

♫ Lala Lala - Destroyer

You are the reason You are the reason You are the reason my heart broke behind my back

✰ 𝐜𝐰: mention of death of a family member (in the past), big family troubles in general

⭅ back to m.list

Something’s off tonight. 

Akaashi can’t tell what it is, but the air around her seems charged. She’s on the edge, her usual calm and overly cool demeanor replaced by something else. He can see it in the subtle movements of her body; the small twitch of her fingers and the heaving of her chest, almost as if she has to draw every breath out of her lung with brute force. His sketches are just as hazy today, vague and shapeless, smudged coal on the paper and on his fingertips without any beginning or end.

She’s asking for more cigarette breaks than usual tonight–not like he’d deny her anything to begin with. He’d pay her just to exist in the same proximity as him if it meant that he could have her all for himself for a little while. Akaashi doesn’t look at her when she takes a seat on the windowsill, with the blanket draped around her shoulders, an ashtray in her lap and her fingers flying over her phone. Even the tapping on the screen sounds like a silent threat. Of course he wonders who she’s texting this furiously. A lover? The thought is like a dull knife in his chest. 

It’s not the first time she showed up covered in bruises and love bites. When she spread out bare in front of him, she didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for imagination. On the side of her neck, on her chest, the inside of her thighs. For a brief moment he wonders what kind of sounds left her throat when these strangers painted those marks on her skin, but he quickly shoves the thought away. His heart thunders against his rib cage like some trapped animal. He can’t let his mind wander there. 

This is enough. It has to be. 

What’s wrong? Such a simple question, but it never leaves his tongue. Akaashi knows he wouldn’t be prepared for her answer to it. Maybe he could ask Yukie later what happened, just to get some peace of mind. 

Akaashi takes a seat and picks up his drawing utensils again once she stubs out her cigarette. None of his sketches so far were of any use, but it doesn’t matter as long as his eyes could roam over her figure and try to memorize every curve and dip of her. Usually he lets her decide how to pose. She was a natural at it, as if she demanded to be seen; carrying her crown askew but held up high anyway. The blanket she was wrapped in slips heedlessly to the floor again. 

When she sits down in front of him, she looks like she’s about to command for heads to roll.

Her eyes bore into him and Akaashi feels a shiver run down his spine. Prey. That’s what he feels like in her presence tonight. One wrong movement and she’ll snap his neck. She scares him a little, he will admit that. But what’s worship without a bit of fear and awe? His hands tremble slightly when he picks up the coal again, flipping the page of his notebook to a blank canvas. 

“Do you think I’m pretty, Akaashi?”

Her voice draws his eyes back to hers, only for him to quickly avert them again. For a heartbeat, he doesn’t even register her question, too stunned to hear his name roll off her tongue. He wishes she would repeat it over and over again. Her gaze is unwavering and Akaashi is sure some would describe it as cruel and lethal, but to him it felt like anything but that. To be seen by her is what his heart yearns for, always. He folds his hands in his lap, carefully weighing on every word.

Does he think she’s pretty? He’d scoff if he wasn’t in the presence of a deity right now. How could he even begin to put into words just how bright her light shines upon him? It was almost blinding; as if he wasn’t worthy to look at her to begin with. She was everything, the one who gave his work a meaning again. Before her, his fingers seemed useless to him, anything that came from them mediocre and hollow. He almost gave up on creating art, the blank canvas mocking him, the marble cold and ruthless under his touch–till she pranced into his life.

It’s as if his life was divided into a time before and after her. He briefly wonders if there’ll be one without her one day.

Akaashi kept his gaze lowered on the ground before her, the same way you’d cower before something holy, but now his eyes are slowly drawing up from her bare form up to her face. The light doesn’t reach her eyes. His mouth feels dry all of sudden, the hair in the back of his neck standing up from the absence of warmth in the air around her. It feels electric all of sudden. 

If she asked him to get on his knees before her, he would.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

His voice is calm; he has a lifelong practice of hiding any wavering emotion. When faced with a feral beast, it is best to stay calm. Still, Akaashi feels like he walked right into her trap.

“I see.”

Whatever emotion flickers over her face, it is replaced by a neutral one immediately afterwards. If Akaashi’s heart could drum any louder, it would drown out her music playing from the speaker. He closes his sketchbook and swallows, his hands smoothing out the wrinkled linen of his pants. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, as if it was weighed down by every word he actually wants to say to her.

The sound of her phone chiming draws her attention away from him. Her brows furrow over whatever appeared on her screen, the bright light of it illuminating her features. Even now Akaashi can’t help but think that she looks divine. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles without really meaning it. She never apologizes, Akaashi knows that much. “Can we end our session early tonight? I’ll pay you back for the two hours left. Something came up.” 

Without waiting for his reply she already disappeared behind the paper screen, putting her clothes back on. Part of him wants to beg her to stay, to let him indulge in her being a little longer, but he knows it was no use. 

She was a fleeting dream and he could never have her.

“I’ll walk you to the gate,” he says quietly, gathering his belongings when she steps out fully dressed again, but she shakes her head and is halfway out the door already, not even looking back at him. Akaashi’s shoulders drop when the door clicks close behind her, leaving him in utter silence in the vastness of his atelier again. 

His heart feels like it got another crack again. 

•┈••✦ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

Akaashi: save me Mitski........ Mitski save me........

Kunimi is getting the favorite child treatment once again

Issei's inner y/n radar popped off and he came to pick her up so she could implode under his watch at least

Kiyoko was getting ready to go out but saw y/n's distressed tweets and decided this was more important (she's the best girl ok)

barely anything stresses y/n out more than one of her loved ones phones being off

Ukai is still getting his "i'm not the step father i'm the father who stepped up" shirt because he's really trying okay

•┈••✦ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@wyrcan @spacekedi @kentocalls @hhoneyhan @walllflowerrrsss

@rory-cakes @jaynawayna @zq13 @hanatsuki-hime @nymphsdomain

@urslytherin @writing-for-the-hell-of-it

taglist open! dm/ask/comment to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[puffein]

PRESENT LETTERS | late spring [iii.]

summary: wanda has been sending you letters, it should be enough to amend things that has been broken, right? problems, however, can never be solved, especially in the hands of someone who is unwilling to do so. pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader warnings: angst word count: 1027 a/n: this is more like a filler.. just to give you the gist of what the future looks like.

series masterlist playlist!

Edinburgh, Scotland

Late-March 2025

"Another letter for you, Y/N." a determined young face pokes its head on your doorway. Her eyes are wide and full of youth etched in every inch of her bent-on features.

The younger woman's long black hair with its subtle wave weaving through her shoulder moves slightly as she nods at your back while waving an all too familiar letter.

Your eyes stayed on the pile of documents situated on your work desk, pieces of small notes scattered lazily around the wooden commodity. Your determination solely focused on the tasks you needed to do, a mere letter wouldn't take a single ounce of attention from you, however, the agravating existence of the woman and the jeering letter she's holding stays prodding at the back of your mind.

Without taking your vision off the particular document, "Throw it away." you replied. 

The woman not much younger than you settled her place right at your doorway, her presence lays heavy as it seeps right into your office, you can feel the tormenting pursing of her lips, and silence ensues for a few seconds until she speaks again. "But it's the 15th letter you received since last year— what if it's important?" she argues.

Setting your feet firmly on the ground, you turn your swivel chair smoothly to face the woman. Your eyes bore right into her blue eyes, and the thrumming of your chest makes its way into your ears as you keep your composure calm and reserved.

"Kate, it's the only letter we received since we started this small business. I have read one of them. I am sure the rest of it is nonsense."

You give her a reassuring smile, hoping for her to drop the letter persuasion because as much as your soul yearns for those letters, it does no good for you as it only brings out the unnecessary ache that seems to never depart from your entire being. Despite the leaden longing to take those letters and cherish them with all your heart, hung on every word that has been written, it was not enough to put yourself into a prison you've longed to escape.

"Come on, now—"

"Throw it out." Your voice draws monotonously, body jerking slightly to turn your swivel chair onto the task you are supposed to be focusing on.

Sighing, Kate backs away slowly, her fingertips tapping on the letter she's clutching. The gnawing curiosity fell deep into Kate's whole body, the sender's information written on the back of the letter screams for her to lay it on your desk, as much as she wants to know the story behind the consistent letter being sent every month for her work partner, she stays quiet and respectful of your decisions to throw it away. Not Kate though, all the letters for you were kept securely in a box she tucked away, hoping for the day you will finally let her deliver it to you.

Your eyes stayed seated on a piece of paper, the taunting presence of Kate's retreating steps made you clench the paper a little too hard. 

You know what those letters are. You know that very familiar sketch of a handwriting, the affixation of each letter in a very flowing manner, you have seen this type of cursive half of your life that the mind of yours imprinted that information right up in your memory lane. 

Wanda has been sending you letters since last year, she has never stopped and you think she never will. 

You don't know why she's doing it. 

Oh, shut up. You do very well know why she's doing it. 

You have told her goodbye nicely— Well, for you it meant something permanent meanwhile, in her mind, it is something entirely different, something normal, not something out of the ordinary, definitely not the ones in your mind.

You clearly remember that day, two years ago, asking her for a coffee at nine in that small coffeehouse both of you frequented since the two of you met. Wanda never knew what you had planned, you distinctly didn't have the heart to tell her straight-up, afraid that once you saw the hurt flash in her eyes would also be the only thing that would stop you from cutting her out of your life.

You didn't know what to do with these letters. You have read one, yes. That one letter was slightly enough for you to run back into her life but your feet stayed planted on the ground. The letter you read was the very first one she sent, it mostly comprises of her apologizing, asking what happened, if you are okay, if you're doing fine, if is there something wrong, did she make you run away, and what actions of hers have brought you to take the choice of leaving her without a proper goodbye.

She didn't deserve it.

You knew, she didn't. And yet you still did the very last thing you hate. 

Hurting her.

You loathe yourself for it but at the back of your mind, hidden between those memories of you two together, the distant recollection of every journey you two had made, tucked in the very end of your subconsciousness, you knew you still would have chosen this option over and over again. 

You would rather do the only thing you promised you would never do to her than use combinations of words drawn out by the trembles of your voice forming petrifying words of confessions, that the love you have for her is enough to draw yourself away from her. 

You knew what word describes you, a coward running away. Someone who only sees the solution to a problem is to hide away and forcefully shove whatever speck of courage erupts at the pit of your soul.

You can't bear the idea of rejection.

Especially from her.

You can't bear hearing her voice confirming what you have already known, you still want to have the liberty of clutching the very last piece of fantasy your mind has formed.

Even if it means leaving her in that small town with the pretense of seeing each other again.

general masterlist ◄ ►

—୧ taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @sokovianbaby

[otherone12]

We Were Meant To Be, Supposed To Be

( Avril reference lol)

Frank Iero × Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! I took too long to write this, because I wasn't at home, so couldn't finish it. Also, i've changed the whole plot of this fic like three times, and I still thinking that's not good as I wanted. Anyways, i hope you enjoy :D

A/N 2: You guys want a Vampire x Reader fic? And with wich member?

Summary - You and Frank dated for a while before he joined MCR, but when you two decided to go separate ways, the different worlds didn’t work well together and you broke up. Years later, your lives collide again, but this time you’re not that young anymore. (This supposed to be a DD era Frank, but if you wanted to change it, be your guest).

- Word Count: 1.530

- Warnings: none

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st person POV

  I was walking down streets on my way to my work, like I do every single day. The large amount of people on the street got me a bit nervous, but I learned to pretend that they didn't exist. 

    The huge building where I work seems small when I enter through the automatic door and go to my even smaller office. I took my earphones and turned the radio on in my city’s broadcasting station. “.... and we're gonna rock this town, like we always do.” The voice that I heard sounded a bit familiar, but I couldn't tell who it was, 'cause of the noise from poor radio contact.   

    I tried harder to listen to what he’ll say, but he had already  finished the interview and the announcer said “Guys, that was Frank Iero telling us what we can expect from the My Chemical Romance concert next week. Thank you, Frank!”

    I got shocked. Why wasn't I able to recognize Frank's voice? It's been that long?

   Frank and I met at high school in our freshman year. We became best friends in about three months. Earlier than we expected, we were hanging out and holding hands. He was the best part of my highschool, probably because I was the most introverted person in the world, he is the opposite. Frank encouraged me to go to parties with him, to be less insecure, to be myself… I owe him all the chances I haven't let go since.

So, like all good things, we were over. He is a famous guitarist, touring through the whole world with his band, and I'm here. I went to college and became exactly what I wanted since I was a kid. 

    We were immature and broke up at the first trouble we had, we’ve been together for six years, and knew each other enough to know that we couldn’t handle a long distance relationship. Without any fight or discussion, we decided that was the end, and just didn’t talked anymore to not turn things harder than they almost were.

Moving on took me a few years, but no one of the people that I dated after Frank made me feel the way he did. Maybe we’re some kind of "meant to be'', and we threw our chance away, giving up that easy.

    The idea of Frank being here gave me the sensation of butterflies in my stomach, should i talk to him? No. I mean, I would like to see him, ask him if he thinks of me like I think of him. Maybe he's still trying to forget about us but incapable to do it, just like me. 

    I gave a brief look to the clock on the wall and noticed that I spent an hour just thinking of Frank, remembering our best moments. And just when I thought I reached the bottom, I felt a tear dripping down my face. 

    With my sleeve, I wiped that single tear in my cheek and keeped working. 

    The rest of the day was gray, the color of the clouds coincidently matched with my feelings. At home, I dropped myself in my bed and turned the tv on, with a desperate yearn to keep my mind out of my old memories. In a few minutes I fell asleep. 

*** time skip ***

  Next day, I decided that I would enjoy myself in some cool place. So at 9pm I put on my best clothes and went to my favorite bar. The place still the same since the last time i went there

   The low lights inside the bar almost made me stumble but I held on to the door before falling.

Like always, the place was crowded and the mix of people talking and the small band who were playing reminded me why I definitely prefer to stay at home instead of going out. Don’t get me wrong, the band was good, I only hate this amount of noise. 

    I took a seat by the side of a group of four men, but it was too dark to see their faces. I avoided looking at any of them for a long time, so it wouldn't look like I was flirting or something.

    - Hey! It's been a long time since the last time you’ve been here. - I used to come here so often that I became friends with the bartender - How’s it going?

   - Great i think, just a bit down this week. - I tell him, with a heavy sight - But I'm here to relax, so, gimme the same as always.

   - Right away, dear! 

   The bartender called my name after some minutes to give me my drink, and I felt the back of my neck burn, like I was being watched. Slowly, I turned around and the four guys were looking at me. My eyes, now accustomed with the dim place, could recognize their faces. I forgot how to breathe when I realized who they were.  

  - Holy shit! I thought I heard your voice, but then I thought that I was getting insane - The man closer to me said, and a silly smile appeared on my face. - You remember me, right, darling?

    - How could I forget you, Frank? - I took a sip of my drink, still smiling. - And, believe me, I tried so fucking hard to.

    - So do I… 

    He took a deep breath and his gaze showed that he missed me as much as I missed him. 

    - When he knew that we’ll be doing some concerts here, he started to talk about you and didn’t stop - Ray said, giggling, while Frank gave him a deathly look. - Well, good to see you again, by the way!

    - Same, guys! - I looked at all of them and nodded, drinking again. - Eight years is too long, but at the same time it seems like it was just a week ago. 

    - Ain’t that the truth? Damn! - Frank didn’t stop to look at me as of the beginning of the conversation. If he keeps doing this, I'll end up kissing him. - You’re pretty as always. ya know?

    My world just tumbled down with his sentence. He used to say this daily to me, in the same way. I gasped and, just like a movie, I saw him, a sixteen boy sitting by my side at the school’s refectory saying this to me for the first time. 

    Ray, Gerard and Mikey walked away to the other side of the bar and Frank stood up when I didn’t respond. Unable to say anything, I just looked at his hazel eyes and felt him getting closer. The feeling of panic washed my body with the sensation of his lips on mine. His hands runned through my body and his tongue entwined in mine. 

    All this eight fucking years trying to get over him, and he made all of this be in vain. I missed his touch more than I could even imagine. 

    I lost my fingers in his hair and when we both were breathless, we pulled up and just looked at each other.

    - Shit, how I missed you! - Frank said, holding my waist. - Wanna take a walk outside?

    - Sure. 

    We walked at the door, letting all the noise behind. The cold air of the night reached my face and I shivered, my mind was so confused that I barely noticed that Frank was holding my hand. 

    - So… I don't even know how to start to say how much I regret leaving you.   

    He was looking down, and I've never heard him so serious before.

    - You didn’t leave me. It was consensual. 

    - Yeah, but.. but I blame myself every day for not insisting on continuing with you. - He whined with an evident remorse in his voice. The regretful tone of his sigh was painful for me to hear.

    - Wasn’t your fault, Frank. We were both immature. - I let go of his hand and put my arm around his neck, in an attempt to comfort him. I wish someone had told me the same thing I said to Frank. After he’s gone I felt as guilty as him, and it lasted all these years. - Altrought we can try again, ‘cause we made it clear to each other that we still have mutual feelings.

    - You’re right, but how is this gonna work? - We stopped walking and Frank looked at me. His confused gaze turned sad and worried as the next words left his mouth.  - You have your life here, and my music is my life so… 

   - Maybe we can try that long distance thing… - A little unsure of what he would think of the idea, I tried to accept the only possible option for our situation. - Seeing each other when you were not on a tour, spending holidays together, calling and texting each other every day...

    - Sounds like an idea to me.

    He smiled and pulled me closer to a kiss, this time i wasn’t worried about all that shit. I let the moment ride me and a hopeful sensation warmed my body even more than Frank’s hands on my face and hips. I felt on fire when the kiss turned deeper. 

    - Are you sure that you wanna try to do this? - I broke the kiss for an instant. 

    - I’m on there, baby! 

___________________________________________

~So... that's it. lemme know if you enjoyed ;)

[harley-sunday]

Feels Like Home [01]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2.7k

AN: Yes. Hi. Hello. Believe it or not but I started writing this fic because I desperately needed some good guy!Daniel being cute with kids in my life. The idea was just a short one shot. Ha. Who was I kidding? Because here we are, six months and nine chapters later... I really hope you like it, please come yell at me in the comments, on anon, or in my DMs about any and all things about this story you want to yell at me about. I probably deserve it. ♥

Masterlist

There’s something about being here, on his farm outside of Perth, that he doesn’t experience anywhere else in the world. Not in Monaco, not in Los Angeles, not even in Austin, or Montana. 

Because here- Here, he doesn’t have to be Daniel Ricciardo, Danny Ric, DR, or the Honey Badger. He doesn’t have to be a Formula One driver, an eight-time race winner, the most beloved driver on the grid, and the fan favourite. He doesn’t have to be Red Bull’s wild card, Renault’s saviour, or, most recently, McLaren’s scapegoat. Here, he is Daniel. And it’s enough. 

Or, at least, it used to be.

Lately, there's been a yearning in his heart that he's unfamiliar with. Or he pretends to be anyway because he’s not ready to put it into words yet, not ready to speak into existence what he really wants from life. Afraid he'll jinx it if he does. 

And so he keeps it to himself and lets his heart ache for something more in silence while the life he does know slowly keeps on falling apart around him.

***

Daniel rests his wrists on the handlebar of his dirt bike and lets out a breath he seems to have been holding in ever since he retired on lap forty-five of the Monza Grand Prix four days ago. Looking out over the valley below, he feels more grounded than he has in a long time and he hopes that the next two weeks will give him the peace he so desperately needs after the shitshow that has been his season so far. 

The sun’s already low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the somewhat still barren trees and shrubs even though he can tell winter is slowly coming to an end from the sprouts of green that have started to grace the landscape with their presence. There’s a kookaburra laughing somewhere in the distance and he takes it as his cue to fire up his engine again for one last run around his dirt track before it gets too dark. 

He knows technically he isn’t supposed to ride his bike during the season, knows technically McLaren could issue him a hefty fine for breaching his contract, but if they ever were to find out he figures they can just take it out of the settlement they’re due to pay him at the end of the year. He’s promised Zak he’ll do whatever it takes to score as many points as possible in the last six races but he also decided early on that he’s no longer going to let the team dictate what he can or cannot do in his time away from the track. 

There’s a meeting tomorrow, with Blake and Michael, where they’ll try to figure out his future in Formula One. There have been a few offers, both from teams who want him as their second driver and from teams who want him to become their reserve driver, but he’s still undecided, not sure if he wants to settle for another midfield team or stay in Formula One without really being in Formula One. 

By the time he completes his lap his head is somewhat empty, too busy instead to focus on keeping his bike under control and not ending up in the dirt. It’s almost dark now and so he opens the throttle wide and guns it home, a race against an invisible clock that, unlike this past season in Formula One, he wins every single time.

Once his bike is safely back in the shed he makes his way over to the house, hosing his boots down before he takes them off at the back door and leaves them to dry on the shoe rack his Dad made for him when he bought the farm. He changes out of his gear in the mud room, making a face when he takes his socks off and catches a whiff of the smell but laughing then because he remembers them smelling so much worse after a race in, oh let’s say, Singapore. With nothing but his boxer shorts on he steps into the kitchen and heads straight for the fridge, taking out an ice cold bottle of water. The sigh of relief when he rolls it against the back of his neck almost obscene. It might be winter but temperatures in western Australia are still as high as a beautiful spring day in Monaco.

It’s then the intercom rings and for a moment he debates ignoring it, not sure if he’s up for telling yet another local journo looking to make it big by trying to get an interview with ‘shunned McLaren driver Daniel Ricciardo’ that now really isn’t a good time  and that any requests for interviews should be made through Blake anyway.  

Plus, he gave his family and friends the access code to the gate when it was first installed, so he doubts any of them are waiting for him to open it, not in the least because they know better than to just show up without a text or call in advance.  

In the end, his curiosity gets the better of him and so he walks over to where the control panel of his alarm system hangs in the living room and pushes the button needed to connect to whoever’s at the gate, “Hello?”

“Hi,” the screen comes on then, the black and white image showing a woman wearing a Stetson hat. She’s staring somewhere into the distance, her face obscured by the shadows the brim of her hat casts under the streetlight, but her voice comes through loud and clear, “Sorry to bother you this late-”

“It’s seven thirty,” he shoots back almost effortlessly.

“-but I wondered if I could maybe ask you to keep it down with the dirt biking a little?” 

“I’m sorry, what?”

She looks up and into the camera then, pushing her hat a little higher so he can finally see her eyes, “It’s just- We’ve got a flock of alpacas over in Eagle's Nest and they tend to get a little jittery from all the noise. Especially when they try to settle in for the night and-”

“I’m sorry,“ he can’t help but grin, running a hand through his hair, “but I’m going to need a little more context here.”

She laughs and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and so he’s a little distracted but then he sees her taking her hat off, revealing her face and- Fuck. She’s gorgeous. He watches her as she shakes her head, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips, “Shit, sorry. I probably should have given you a bit more to go on.” Putting her hat back on she straightens up and points to somewhere over her shoulder, “Your neighbour on that side, Oscar Linton? He’s my granddad. I think you know him, right?”

“Old man Linton!” He smiles and nods, “Of course I do.” When he first bought the farm he made sure to introduce himself to his neighbours and while he likes to think he has a good relationship with all three of them he’s always had a soft spot for the elderly man further up the road. So much so that he always makes sure to drop by for a chat whenever he finds himself back in Perth. It’s then he connects the dots and recognises her from some of the pictures Oscar has up in his living room. All of a sudden he feels guilty for not going to see his neighbour yet even though he has been home for two days already but maybe he can do that tomorrow or-

“He fell a few days ago-” her voice pulls him out of his thoughts unintentionally and his guilt triples in a matter of seconds. There’s a sad smile tugging on her lips which makes him prepare for the worst. 

Surely they would have let him know if- He remembers the pile of unopened letters waiting for him on the kitchen counter then and curses quietly, “Shit.”

“He’s ok,” she’s quick to reassure him, as if she knows what he was thinking. “He spent a couple of nights in hospital and still has a long way to go but at least he’s home again.” She takes a deep breath, “They had to replace his hip and he’s got a broken wrist but,” she shrugs, “it could have been worse.” 

It’s then the absurdity of the situation hits him, with him in his boxers in his living room and her on the other end of his kilometre-long driveway, talking into a metallic box. He shakes his head and pushes the button that opens the gate automatically, “I think maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation over an intercom. I could make you a cup of coffee if you want? Or something stronger? I make a mean-”

She bites her lip and seems to hesitate.

“Just a quick cuppa. It’s the neighbourly thing to do, right?”

He sees her nod, “Yeah, ok.”

He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “Happy days.” 

***

The house is not at all how you expect it to be, much more modern and open-planned than any of the other farm houses in the area. The west-facing wall has been completely redone in glass panels, offering a stunning view of the valley and surrounding paddocks and you can’t help but admire the interior design of both the kitchen and the living room, which is masculine but still inviting. You wonder if he decorated the place himself or if he hired some interior designer to do it for him.

“Here you go,” Daniel, who told you ‘You can call me Dan’ when he greeted you at the door with a bright smile and an outstretched hand- offers you a cup of steaming hot coffee and motions for you to join him at the kitchen table. He’s wearing white sweatpants and a matching white sweater that look incredibly comfy and that make you want to wrap yourself around him and hang onto him like a koala bear. Wait. What? 

You take your hat off to try and keep from ogling him, placing  it on the chair next to you before you sit down and smile at him, “You know, all these years I thought you were called Danny Ric because that’s what Granddad keeps calling you. I’m not sure I can get used to Daniel.” 

Daniel laughs, the laughter lines in the corners of his eyes even more prominent now, “Trust the old man to keep that gag going.” He shakes his head then, “I can’t believe he fell though.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, blowing into your coffee. “We’re lucky Mrs Mackenzie found him when she did or-” You let out a ragged breath and see him nod, his eyes kind, and it makes you continue, “His hip was completely shattered and his wrist is broken in three places so it’s going to take a while before he’s up and running again- I mean, if his new hip ever heals completely- He’s already seventy-eight so-” You hear yourself starting to ramble and so you fold your hands around your cup and try to calm down a little. You’re not even sure why you’re even telling him all of this, but he’s a friend of your granddad and so you figure he’s good people. “Mum and Dad wanted to come back from New Zealand to help out but-” you look up at Daniel and shrug, “I spent a lot of time on the farm as a kid, right until I left for uni, so it made much more sense for me to move in with him for the time being.” 

“That’s a pretty big thing to do,” Daniel says with a kind smile, a warmth to his brown eyes that you can feel yourself get lost in. “You sure your family can miss you that long?”

You don’t really know what he’s getting at, whether he’s talking about your Mum and Dad or the husband and kids he thinks you might have left behind to come back to Mundaring, and you don’t really know you want to tell him your truth either, after all you’ve just met him, so in the end you shake your head and settle on an honest, “I’ve got everything I need right here.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t push it and instead he says, “If you’d have me I’d love to come over to see him some time. I’m still here for almost another two weeks  and-” 

“I’m sure he’d like that,” you offer with a smile. “He always tells me what a nice bloke you are.”

Daniel leans back in his chair and grins, spreading his arms, “Can’t say I blame him. I’m the best.” 

“He says the same thing about the postie,” you tease with a casual shrug, “so don’t get too excited.” 

“Ouch,” Daniel brings a hand to his chest, “that hurts.” 

You pout, “So sad.” 

“Very,” Daniel agrees quietly, trying his best to keep a straight face. He puts his arms on the table then and leans forward, “Before you stomp on my ego some more, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here. What’s up with that eagle’s nest over in some paddock?”

“Oof,” you pull a face and shake your head, “you were so close.” You can’t help but laugh when you see him pretend to be hurt at your comment. You take a sip of coffee before you explain, pointing in the general direction of your paddock, “Your dirt track borders Eagle's Nest, the paddock Granddad uses for the alpacas in September and October, and I guess normally it isn’t a problem because you usually aren’t home during this time of year but I heard you yesterday and today and-”

“Yeah, we had an unexpected three-week break this year so I figured-” Daniel waves his hand around for you to continue then.

“It’s just, we have three pregnant females this year and- I don’t know if you’re at all familiar with alpacas?”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t even know you guys had alpacas. Your granddad and I just tend to talk shit about Mrs Mackenzie and them over a cuppa but I've never really asked him about the farm to be honest."

You throw him a look, knowing all too well your granddad doesn’t drink coffee.

He quickly backs down, “Fine, I drink coffee, he drinks tea.” 

“There you go,” you mouth with a wink. “Anyway, alpacas are basically scared of everything, even their own shadow, so you know, someone riding a dirt bike close by doesn’t really help with keeping them nice and calm during these last few weeks of their pregnancy.” 

“Gotcha.”

“They’re usually out on the other side of the paddock during the day, so anything until five in the afternoon is fine” you offer, not wanting to deprive him of his hobby completely, “but we have their feeders and the shed they can hide in during the night out over in your corner, so-”

“You’re giving me a five pm curfew, basically,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Just until the end of October.” You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Nah, no worries,” Daniel puts his hand on your forearm and gives it a squeeze to let you know he means it. “I’d do anything for old Oscar.” Then, with a grin he adds, “And his girls.” 

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks and try to hide it with a smile, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your arm again, “He’s gonna be fine by the way. He’s tough, that one.”

“Speaking of Granddad,” you risk a quick glance at your watch, letting you know it’s almost eight fifteen, “I should probably head back.” You push your chair back and grab your hat, putting it on as you tell Daniel, “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Anytime,” he says with a grin as he stands up as well, following you to the front door. “Tell him I’ll come by soon, ok?”

“Will do.” You turn around then and smile again, something about not getting your hopes up but doing so anyway when you ask, “I’ll see you around then?”

Daniel tips his imaginary hat, “Yes ma’am.” 

[dmagedgoods]

Knight Commander Salvadore’s opinions about his companions

Tag game: Give your KC’s first impression and final opinion of each of their companions! Thank you so much for the tag, @spyridonya ❤ Careful, the final impressions include spoilers. Tagging: @iwoszareba @shiawasekai @amatres @thesolemnhour @outeremissary @offsidekineticist I have no idea who already got tagged and guess wildly. ~

First impressions of Salvadore

Seelah – What a tiring acquaintance. Her morality comes with all the depth of the headnote in a children’s book. At least, her sense of honor speaks in her favor. She is capable with her sword and knows how to follow orders. Camellia – Suspicious, put-on, trying too hard. She would not survive a day in the high society of Absalom but find herself torn apart. Either her status is a role, or Mendev’s aristocracy more pitiful than I feared. Wenduag – Do not stare at those legs. Deep breath, stay composed. Her approach is intelligent, strategical even, her values, on the other hand, entirely misguided. She chose a dark path to reach the desperate lifeboat she confuses with strength. Nonetheless, I see potential in her. Potential worth saving? If she means her words and follows the lead of the strongest, I may succeed at giving her a new perspective and a true chance to put her abilities to use. Lann – A man who finds so little worth in his own existence and yet attempts to run forward without a moment of thought makes for an unworthy leader of his kind. Disregard. Woljif – Is he still talking? His words are a senseless flood of irrelevance. Well, he has his amusing moments, I assume. I will have to watch him to contain his embarrassing habit of taking what is not his. For the time being, he should be of use and make for an efficient tool. I assume he won’t stay for long, he is not a soldier, and I won’t hold him captive by any means. Ember – Heavens, what was done to her? There is a deep wisdom in her words and views. And yet she utters them with all the disarming innocence of the child she is. I will protect her and make sure no harm will befall her again. Daeran – Being in charge always comes with heavy duties. He refuses them all. And while he leads the life of a mindless rake, his lack of political ambition makes it, well, acceptable. And yet, there is more to him. He fights with skillful, elegant efficiency, not afraid face to face with the demons invading his house. There is an air of freedom around him, his shining eyes are impressively observant, his mind as sharp as his provoking tongue. I admit, I am intrigued. He will be mine. If only for a night. He will be mine. Nenio – This epitome of ignorance calls herself a scientist? - A claim as ridiculous as her pathetic questions. Galfrey – The failures of the last crusades weigh heavy on her. Once radiant ruler, I can see the cracks, the tiredness of the woman underneath the mythos I heard all those praises about. She presents herself as surprisingly approachable. In her weakened position, that might prove a mistake. I wonder what her next steps will entail. Sosiel – I recognized a kindred spirit in him and I assume the feeling must be mutual. Last night, we sat and talked about art, about craftmanship, and wine, and beauty. It caused a bittersweet ache in me. I’m too far from Absalom, and something tells me Sosiel suffers a similar kind of yearning for a place he had to part from and yet stays with him, always. Once this war is over, I hope to visit his vineyards. Regill – A stern leader, attentive, sharp-minded, knowledgeable, experienced, efficient. Is he trying to challenge me? He will lose this battle, should he attempt to. Nonetheless, I’m impressed and interested in a solid partnership. My idea of the Hellknights might need adjustment. Arueshalae – A demon with a conscience, choosing her own path? I have to stay cautious, and yet … Her determination moves me. Can it be true? Can even a succubus re-invent herself to step past her pre-destined chains and limitation? If so, it proves everything I believe in. Show it to me, Arueshalae, don’t disappoint me now.

Greybor – His company is pleasant. An intelligent man with a rational mind. Furthermore, a useful weapon. I appreciate his codex and harbor no doubt that our arrangement will prove advantageous to both of us. Trevor – He endured down here, all this time. Impressive. I will reunite him with his brother as soon as I found a way out. Ulbrig – [I played Salvadore’s playthrough before the shifter was added and will come back to write his impressions about him once I finished his second playthrough.] ~

Final Impressions of Salvadore

[Heavy spoilers for the ending of the game]

Seelah – Her self-doubt and inconsequence are a danger for herself and those around her and her choice of ‘friends’ speaks of a concerning lack of insight. Nonetheless, I wish her well and hope her travels will help her move past those shortcomings. Camellia – Would there have been another way? I cannot say that I understand her motivation, her drive, but we travelled and fought together and a part of me wonders if a different approach could have led to a less violent outcome. She forced my hand into attack and paid the price for her crimes, but too much stays in the dark. Lann – Still as bland as the last time. Wenduag – She must have realized the mistake she was making before the battle even started. How, after all this time, could she misjudge that badly? In the end she threw it all away, the position of power offered to her in my army, her developments, her own potential. It pains me. Not her betrayal but my own failure. Where did I go wrong in my attempt of showing her a better way? Woljif – You hid him well, the man you are. – Well enough you needed some time to find him yourself. I’m looking forward to our upcoming projects and adventurous nights you and my husband drag me to. In all you are, in all you became and always were: I am honored to call you my friend. Ember – I recognized your strength from the moment we met. I would like to claim I guided you, but it was all inside of you from the start and my advice merely a final drop to reach your full potential. Listening to your last speech left me impressed and proud. My heart is heavy thinking of your silent departure. Continue on, little bird, go and change the world. Should you ever need it, I will be your haven to return to. Daeran – Light of my life, center of my world, to see you free from all those chains is the greatest achievement, the strongest of pleasures, worth any sacrifice and nothing fulfills me more. I adore everything you are, your light and your darkness, your strength and your weakness, your vulnerable tenderness and each of your sharp edges. You are my goal and my reason, my home and my journey. I love you. Nenio – I grew weirdly fond of her. Why I felt happiness about her return is beyond me. But I’m willing to admit that I’m excited for the final version of her encyclopedia. Galfrey – It should not have ended like this. Our swelling battle for influence, my rise to power to threaten yours, you knew it, you were well aware. You sent me to the Abyss and marched to Iz, it was your decision, not mine, your miscalculation, your defeat, your duty as their leader to hold out until I saved our people, until I preserved the knowledge needed for the goal we shared. The risk you took, the duty to hold out, it is the price of rulership. Then why can I not get rid of the voice whispering in my mind? Telling me that I hoped you would fail and die, your throne free for the taking, that your death would pave the way for me. Mendev in the palm of my hand. We both failed, Galfrey, we both failed that day. But I will carry on, I will wear this crown and leave our faults behind, to shape a nation of light. Sosiel – I feel this certain distance between us since my rejection. It seems to stand between us and I find myself unable to overcome it. Maybe it just needs more time. I look forward to visiting him and his brother and sincerely hope he’ll find the peace of mind he deserves and a life filled with kindness and beauty. Regill – My trusted advisor and second in command, my friend I turn to whenever I wish for advice, wiser than me, with your unconditional, selfless devotion to our goals: You are not dismissed. I need you at my side. Trevor – He is strong and even with the horrors lingering deep within, he will make a life worth living, I am certain. Arueshalae – She succeeded. It proves that we all decide our own path and who we want to be, independently from so-called ‘destiny’, no matter where we stand. I will visit her soon, and urge her to overcome her solitude just enough to make the connections she craves.

Greybor – He is on his way home, to the place he is needed at. I support his decision. Maybe we will meet again one day. Ulbrig – [I played Salvadore’s playthrough before the shifter was added and will come back to write his impressions about him once I finished his second playthrough.]

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Dewdrop x GNreader.

Everyone knew that Dewdrop was a dangerous and impulsive creature that set things alight with every step he took. But you saved him. 

There's a specific kind of trust that comes along with the games Dewdrop likes to play with you. He's an impulsive creature, anybody with a set of eyes would be able to tell that much. Maybe that's why he always came back to you. 

Hundreds of years he has spent on this earth, always finding the next thing to do. Something to quell that heat that builds in his chest when he dwells on something for too long. He gets antsy. He gets shitty. It scored him his reputation. Which only added to the fire that grows in his being if he was to sit on something for a moment too long. It's something his fellow ghouls have spent what’s felt like eons trying to break. But it embedded itself into Dew's life before he even realised it. Sinking its filthy claws into the back of his brain, only to linger and fester into a side of Dewdrop that he struggles to control. The bigger the band got, the deeper those claws sunk. All too quickly he found himself unable to extinguish his urges, the impulsive thoughts that struck his mind were spewing out through his actions before he was able to process them. It was damaging. All too quickly that's just what people expected of him. Fans, Siblings of Sin…. even his own band mates had accepted the fact that that was just who Dewdrop was. Which inevitably, cemented the reality that he wasn't able to change. There was a very small part of him that longed to rid himself of this outrageous person he'd morphed into. 

Once upon a time he existed without the fire. He remembers it, as if it were some vague dream that he'd had many years ago. Bits and pieces returning to the front of his mind just to taunt him. It's quiet. It's slow. There's no heat. He just exists. He often found himself chasing that silence. It would disappear quicker than what it had appeared. Leaving him with a hole in his lungs while trying to breathe himself back to reality. 

He got lonely. Sure he was surrounded by people. But those people expected to see a side of him he was sick of showing. He craved just one. One moment. One small shred of quiet. He often considered throwing his whole life away just to feel it again. To hold onto it. No more running. No more chasing. No more searching, yearning, longing, reaching for something he just can't grasp. It was devastating. 

But you. 

You. 

You terrified him. Still do sometimes, but not in the way one would assume. He didn't want to run. He didn't want to hide. He actually welcomed you, with wide open arms. That, was what terrified him. The idea alone that he was so drawn to you; a singular human being. Something so breakable, so easy to ruin… yet you ruined him with a simple smile. He wanted you. Not just to mess around with, he'd spent a lifetime messing around. He wanted to win you over, he wanted to impress you, he wanted you to want him just as much. He took his time with you. And he would have spent the rest of forever, and even beyond that, taking his time with you. But you rewarded his efforts, you let him in, and you introduced him to the very thing he’d been trying to find for so long. 

The only way he can describe it, is as if he had been drowning and you pulled him out of the deep end and breathed life back into him. Or if he had been pushed off a building, and you caught him before he hit the ground. Dew feels like he won't ever be able to find the right words to tell you that you saved him, but what he doesn't realise is that they are literally right there. You saved him. And he will forever be in your debt, but you don't let him dwell on it for too long. 

Although you managed to put out one fire in Dewdrop's life, you always find a way to light another. Except this fire is vastly different, in fact Dewdrop likes this one.

It's in the way you look at him. He swears he sees a pyre in your eyes, lit up with pure adoration and love for him as if you’d been sent up from hell by the devil himself. It's in the way you proudly show him off to anyone who is close enough to see. It's in that cheeky smile of yours that brings him to his knees whenever he is lucky enough to catch sight of it. 

But fuck… if its anything, its in the way you hand yourself over to him with such confidence. Your shared bed is a sacred space that he shares with nobody but you. He refuses to let anybody or anything corrupt the energy the two of you conjure while you're in it. The sounds he can rip from you, the way your body molds into his, the unbroken bond the two of you have created between each other in this very room alone is beyond anything he has ever experienced. He is very protective of his relationship with you, and the trust you have in him when you let yourself go beneath him. You let him ravish you. You let him devour you. You let him pluck every miniscule thought right out of your mind with each kiss he plants on your heated skin, with each caress of his hands on your beautiful body, with every little praise that falls from his lips. 

During these moments, when the world outside of your locked bedroom door doesn't exist to either of you anymore, the truth is that you showed him that he was deserving of change. The change that everyone around him convinced him he was not capable of. The change that he had been chasing, he found it in you. The way you breathe his name, the way you carry his scent, just in the way you love him is everything he has ever needed. You put out the dangerous fire that was Dewdrop, you ripped the claws of self doubt and rage right out of his head and you filled the gaps in his lungs with everything you had to offer.

You saved him. 

[askuemki]

ranting about WCUE

I have ALOT of (maybe) unnecessary grudges with so many things abt WCUE. I love reading rants, so I'll as might as well put out my own too. To the people (probably most of my followers) who don't know what the game is, basically it's a children's game on Roblox based off of the book series Warrior Cats, by Erin Hunter. I apologize in advance, there may be some lingo you may not understand.

So WCUE has been my comfort game for many, many years. Partly, it's my childhood and it's just a game I can just go and chill. Make silly cats without working my ass off on drawing. But when I want to actually go and try and join a clan? Have fun roleplaying a little? (I'll admit, it's a fun thing from time to time.) Every. Single. Fucking. clan. Never manages to keep itself up. It takes SO LONG to set things up. To get the right people. It'll take hours for a clan to get running. And for what? For people to sit in the clearing? For your complicated "fun" plots to fall flat? I don't get being picky. Sure, you want your major roles to have experience, to know their shit. But if you keep yearning for that one miss perfect medicine cat who knows all of the out of game herbs? Bullshit. Major roles are here to have fun too, not to just manage. It's so frustrating whenever I want to be a leader, or a medic and to have 1000's of kids yapping at my toes. You're expected to babysit. To do their wishes. You only matter as a major because you're needed. Something else with these "experienced roleplays" is the cliques. People form friend groups, that's natural. But if it's a game where people are SUPPOSED to chat and cooperate, what's the point if you don't include them too? Those prophecy plots? It's only fun if you're the main character. People who join later are confused, or you get shoved into the back. And when the rules are established? NOBODY upholds them after 10 minutes. I'm tired of seeing people sitting in the clearing, or moping around alone. I'll admit I'm quite guilty sitting by myself, but at some point you'll need to get thing going with one or more people. You'll eventually get demotivated from loneliness. Another thing, "exp" people. (Or cats, per say.) It frustrates me to see people using these unnecessarily lengthy words to describe something. Incandescent, tarsal bones, premolars, dentations, all of that bullshit-you don't need those words when people can't even understand you. Recently, I got some real good advice from a mentor. Good writing doesn't involve using these long words. If they aren't in your everyday vocabulary? Just don't. Don't use them. You come off as arrogant and show offish. (Unless that's how you intend to display yourself.) Good writing involves clarity, making things CLEAR for other people. Instead of using words only Shakespear would use, why not describe your surroundings in your descriptions? Other cats? Going in depth with thoughts? If you want to go the route where you're using complicated vocabulary, at least research the words you want to use. Again, I'm guilty for this phase.

My partner was telling me about how she was auditioning for medic, and the person auditioning posted this question: "What herb tastes tangy and bitter?" (or something of the like.) It was yarrow. At least according to a quick search- it's supposed to taste like licorice. I'm convinced clan founders auditioning medics are making shit up. What herb is this? What herb is that? The more "experienced" players lean towards out of game herbs, and it gives an unfair advantage for players wanting that role. I don't have time in my day to study herbs like I'm studying for my exams. The "unexperienced" players (maybe this can also be for everyone) have problems too, I'm not going to just complain about the veteran members. HARASSMENT. There's those people who shoo spectators away like pests. It's a public server. It isn't YOUR clan, let them exist. It pisses me off when they're so abrupt and arrogant about it. If you ask? Maybe they'd be more willing to move away. It also sucks when there is a valid roleplay with specific lore, and (agreeable) rules to follow, and people insert themselves like they're the main character. No, SpeckledPelt you can't have the leader role just because you equipped the icon. No BloodBush (fuck you, specifically), you wanted to join the clan; don't boss the host around when they're trying to set things up for you. I miss the WCUE where we didn't have to be so choosey about the people we appoint for roles. I miss the WCUE where we can be silly and fun, without having to feel sophisticated. Sure maybe the name "MochaHeart" is a little wacky, but at least they're doing their best to roleplay. To have fun.