#if they cannot figure out how to properly run one

[gabagoulie]

To the asshole who came to lock the gas station: FUCK you

[grotesquevi]

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ I WANNA BE THE TATTOO INK THAT SWIMS ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ DOWN THROUGH THE NEEDLE IN YOUR SKIN.

cw  # 18+ mdni, public sex, use of strap-on (it’s refered as cock/dick too) strap sucking, use of pet names.

side note  # if you recognize this, might be because this is a request from my previous blog vicorices (terminated blog 2025-2025 r.i.p) this is my new account. i'm trying to get all my writing back up slowly and with my whole heart. check out my arcane directory to see the process of re-uploading fics.

to be fair, sevika did want to marry, the thing was organizing a wedding.

you've been running non-stop the last months so she gets you're burnt out. your fianceé can be many things, but her patience it's a golden treat even when she don't have time to properly fuck you lately, she knows you'll be back to your own self after the celebration, and sevika’s not afraid of having to put up with your grumpy side any time of the day.

she can handle you, simple as a summer day with the air conditioner turned on. what she cannot handle instead, was that backstabbing shit you were pulling on her after being so well behaved, playing the part of an understanding wife until one of your friends give her the first photo and she has to look at it twice to be sure she's looking at it right, cause there's no way you're standing in a tiny polaroid picture wearing a purple set of underwear, comfortably laying around in bed — a bed you share with her every night.

it sends her into a spiral. the music is loud in a room full of celebrating guests and still, her mouth is suddenly dry and she feels like it has been a fucking year now without having sex, so dramatic as she's searching for you even when you're already looking at her, raising your champagne glass in a silent toast with a playful smirk.

and she thinks you'll have the decency to be kind to her after all, but your friends kept the photos coming, and each one seemed to be more obscene than the last one as she looked at them a couple of times afraid someone else could see it before tucking it away in the safety of her suit. at first a casual set of purple lingerie that scaled insanely quick to a very close frontal shot of your full lips slightly parted, and sevika can recognize your hands squeezing your tits together for the picture, you fucking tease — the third picture steals the air from her lungs at the sight of you already on your knees, looking up to the camera with nothing on top.

did your friends see them too? do they know how low they are helping you play? you're making her put up a show ‘cause you're laughing at her face, her erratic movements, how she forgot to keep on talking to the guests, show some manners from a zaunite already in the council, but shit she's so weak. you've deprived her for what? a month or two? can you really expect her to behave and not to act up stupid? you're wearing this beautiful white gown and sevika cannot help but wonder, truly wonder, by the look in your face, what are you wearing down all that expensive fabric.

low.

you're looking at her while you talk to your close ones and sevika fights the need to drag you away from everyone as the photos kept appearing randomly, hitting her in the worst moments, cause she thinks she got it figured it out, that she finally collected herself as the minutes pass until another friend appears with a sinful picture and she thinks to herself, she's going to have a word or two with you about that teasing game she didn't agree to be a part on.

how can she be mad at you anyway? when you're so good at taking those photos for her? when you look so beautiful making your underwear to the side to have a look of your soaked pussy you so eagerly show to the camera lens? you're biting down your lip cause you really are enjoying it, showing that nasty side you cannot hide and she just loves to have every single time.

her devotion to you knows no barrier at that point, cause people are laughing loudly, singing and dancing under the changing lights and the bands playing in the background, yet sevika's blatantly stealing you from the rest and there's no point in saying no when she's pulling you to the tiny photobooth you thought it'd be cute to take up pictures for the guests and have a little token of your union to your wife to take home, closing down the red curtain to corner you against the camera wall.

"did you like the photos?" you have the audacity to ask with a smile on your lips — "it's a reward for being so good to me all this time."

"is this your idea of reward, doll?" sevika cannot hide the smirk on her face, not when she’s actually enjoying all the talking for once. "haunt me the whole night until i can finally get you alone?"

"it's fun" you try to defend yourself, but you already lost the whole case as her big hands fall against your figure, tracing your sides as she mocks your words: you have different views of fun clearly. "i was going to make it up to you later, vika. the two of us."

"make up to me you say," she chuckles, almost not believing you "well take care of me now then. i deserve it."

she does it really, so you let her push you around, use force to pin you down against the wall as she takes what she's been anxiously craving, cursing against the complex fabric of your wedding dress until she's able to grip it in one hand, noticing the same purple set she saw before in the pictures.

"fucking slut doin' this on purpose" sevika shakes her head in disbelief as she takes a look of your body in the colorful lingerie "and you were going to be cruel and make me fucking wait to have you? on our own wedding day?"

"vika-"

“you took the photos, fuckin´ deal with it.”

“what if someone comes in?”

“i’ll tell them to fuck off,” she promises quickly like she thought about it all already “it’s our day, our wedding.”

there’s something about the way she’s saying it that makes you oblivious to the rest, makes your head spin cause you forgot about your worrying, the guests, the cake and everything in between. so you're not aware of when you pushed the red button on the screen of the photobooth, nor when it activates it's original purpose when sevika's fully into making out with you, capturing the sight of your figures blending together in the same picture — by the second shot you can notice the smirk on her brown lips and in the third, it's not really visible as she seems to be too close to the camera lens, making the image blurry as she attacks on your neck.

maybe it's the thrill of being discovered, the fact sevika can feel the flash of the photos being taken, but she wishes to be patient again — have it in at least a couple of hours on her actual wedding night for a chance, privately, but the strap she choose willingly to wear in a way of fully teasing you, was now pushing against your leg and you have to stop for a second with your brows furrowed.

"is that-" sevika's nodding and you want to say something, but you find amusing to know your wife is wearing a strap-on to your wedding celebration, one you surely have seen already.

"make up to me," she repeats once again, serious this time "for being cruel. after that you can explain me how you took those pictures."

no one interrupts anyway. the music's too loud, the sweat in the air is too strong and guests already drank a lot so no one gives a shit when you're getting on your knees, when sevika's toying with your hair as you're the one to unbuckle the belt from her pants, the one who kisses the happy trail of her lower belly without protesting, noticing the blue silicone as her pant pools in her ankles and your wife cannot seem to care about anything but the sight of you on your knees.

"get it wet" sevika's less gentle now as she's pointing to her fake cock, licking her lips like she can taste yours in them before adding: "so i can fuck you good, okay?"

to be fair — it's just an excuse, cause she knows you're dripping in your pretty purple panties, that the dildo would split you open yes, stretch you out even without making much effort, but she just wants to see how you do it, how you become a drooling mess, salivating all over the floor, getting your dress wet totally unaware of everything else.

and hell she wishes she could feel it all, cause you look so pretty with your mouth full it's insane, pushing against the rubber to take it in your throat further until you make yourself gag, and your wife takes care of you, so she's pulling away but in all honestly the sight of you debauched already only spurs her on 'cause the amount of saliva coating your lips connecting you to her dick makes her insane, cleaning the corners of your mouth with her thumb.

"easy there, get used to it and take it slow," her voice is rough as she helps you put your hair up in a ponytail vika holds in her mechanic fingers, watching your polished moves as you get to work again, relaxing until the tip of your nose is touching her skin, and your eyes are watering but she can feel your breathing on her, the friction between her legs every time you move to take her deeper, the fabric of the harness consistently rubbing between her legs — "there you go bunny. s'good taking it all, go on keep sucking and don't get distracted."

you want to do good, desperate to please her over and over again, you can take it. that's what she says as her hips involuntarily thrust against your mouth, and it's so slippery the rubber cock slides inside your bucal cavity and she's roughly hitting on the back of your throat until there's this sound you make involuntarily each time the strap invades your mouth and makes you choke, leaving you a mess as you're drooling all over your tits.

her flesh hand does a good job on making you move, fingers tightening in your hair as she sets an steady pace against your mouth, swollen lips that close around the shaft as she pushes it deeper, cleaning up your tears cause she don't want your make up to be ruined, all pretty trying hard for her.

she's going to cum like this, inevitable. you're looking up to her with your big eyes, a damn smirk cause even when you're struggling you're having so much fun you cannot help it, and once again she's needy for more than what she'd like to admit.

the movement of her hips rubs her right in the spot when sevika's already so sensitive soaking her inner thighs, forcing her cock in your mouth — it's so good, you're so damn good.

so she cums around nothing, your sloppy movements as you suck on her strap, that zoned out look you have that only makes her moan hastily, leaning against the photobooth to press that fucking button again that's been randomly taking pictures now capturing the features of your wife as you now disappear from the frame, the pleasure on sevika's face she's unaware before pulling you upwards again, making you stand as she parts your legs with her knee forcing you to turn around to have a good view of your ass.

"my good little cocksleeve, always ready to be stuffed," she praises, leaving wet kisses on the expanse of your shoulders, going down your spine as she don't bother to take your panties off, no, she wants to fully fuck you in them "spread yourself open, help me sink in you."

your hands come up to grip on your asscheeks, pulling them aside to help your wife reach deeper, use you better by all means. the tip of the cold silicone wet with your own saliva kisses your entrance, and you melt away when sevika's finally fucking you until the base of her cock disappears inside your warm cunt, holding you still even in a secluded space.

she's shoving her fingers in your mouth, making you suck on her digits with a hungry look: lame, she's gonna cum again and she's acting up so fucking lame.

"fucking take it," the damn camera flashes again and sevika has lost count of how many pictures are waiting outside the booth of you two, but she's too busy to say something when she's sinking inside your drenched pussy, pulling on your hair as she grips on the curve of your hip, making you move with her as she begins to get rougher, each time more demanding, deeper — "that's it. make space for me, it's not that hard, isn't it?"

she's on a sinking ship either way: slow is now overrated and she would rather dive in headfirst to openly drown in you.

was that so bad? i mean, you're married to her now.

[mobileleprechaun]

The Pea

I'm very hung up on the symbolism of this dish, particularly with how it pertains to Eddie and his episode of severe emotional distress.

Eddie was all alone in his post office when we found him. Although he refused to state this outright, it was clear he was feeling excluded and forgotten by his neighbors. We have often seen him pushed to the margins of the community, only sought out for his utility to the others.

Barnaby openly delights in scaring and tormenting him, Howdy overworks him without sparing a second thought to his needs, Julie only calls upon him when she someone who's easy to drag into a game, Sally refuses to address him by name and treats his attempts at social connection with disdain, Wally and Poppy only have fleeting interactions with him, and Frank hides his burgeoning fondness behind a facade of cordial indifference.

The pea is alone, too, isolated on the stark white backdrop of the plate.

"Take care not to place them too close together." Even if there are more "peas" at this party, Eddie sits alone in Home's chair, denied the basic creature comforts of intimacy as he watches the others mingle.

The pea is also a pittance to Eddie. It is presented to him right after Sally's single, small attempt to show him goodwill, which she only bothers to do because it's a holiday.

She still does not address him by his name. The gesture, the pea, and the seat are all mere crumbs – too little, too late for a neglected outsider who struggles to make sense of the lonely, awful torment of his life in this Neighborhood, one which he cannot properly articulate for fear of sounding ungrateful.

Home stares him down from his lonely seat. Its presence is monolithic and ominous, a towering figure that only makes him feel more small and alone.

Is it intruding on his mind on purpose, trying to hurt him? Personally, I don't think so, though it still remains to be seen. His words to Frank at the end are telling, though. "I want to go home."

Whether it means to or not, Home torments him with its very being. It's both the elephant and the room. Eddie is an outsider. Eddie can't remember where he's from. Eddie sleeps in a post office after thanklessly running himself ragged every day. Home is the very reason for this holiday, and Eddie is homeless. It's staring him down because it's a symbol of everything he aches for, but cannot have.

Eddie is the single pea on Home's plate. Take care not to place him too close to anyone else.

[vitalverstappen]

Cassandra - C. Leclerc

summary: when everyone believes you, what's that like?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x platonic teammate! reader

warnings: Mattia Binotto, swearing, some sexist comments

word count: 3k

a/n: in honor of max winning the WDC, i figured i'd post something. in honor of charles finally losing his shit on the team radio, i figured i'd post this. also it takes place during the 2022 season

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

2022 was supposed to be your year. You broke onto the F1 scene in 2020 with Haas after working your way up through F3 and F2, championing both levels of racing with ease. You proved yourself time and time again by consistently placing within the points in a less than superior car. 

That’s how you got the attention of Ferrari. They offered you a one year deal, and you couldn’t turn it down. You were okay with being the second driver, because you were racing for the most historic team in F1. 

Things started out great. The car was a major upgrade from the tractor you were driving with Haas, and the team actively listened to your input and took having a woman in the car seriously.

You and Charles also clicked instantly, which led to some amazing content for the social teams. 

“Anything you need, or feel needs changed, let us know. We’re a family here” Mattia said as he gave you the tour of the Ferrari factory.

You couldn’t have drawn up the first two races any better. Both you and Charles were on the podium and it looked like you two were going to give Max and Red Bull a run for their money in the championship races. 

The downward spiral started in Australia. From the moment you hit the track for the first time, something felt off. The car was sluggish, it took all of your strength to accelerate and brake properly. 

“There’s something wrong with the car.” you told the team, your frustration mounting. “It takes forever to accelerate and then when I do, I can’t break”

“Have you tried leg day?” Mattia asked, a smirk forming on his face, causing you to storm away and find your mechanics. 

The Australian Grand Prix ended up being a disaster. You struggled through the laps, barely able to keep up with the field. The car was just too much of a handful. Thirteen laps in, you hand no choice but to retire from the race. The speed was gone, and your confidence was shot. 

“I cannot believe he looked me in the eyes and said ‘try leg day’” You fumed as you barged into Charles’ driver room. The frustration was evident in every word, your anger still fresh from the weekend’s events. 

Charles looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your entrance. “Well hello to you too” he said with a small chuckle. “What’s going on?” 

You let out a deep sigh and recounted the car troubles and the interaction with Mattia. “He actually said ‘try leg day’ to me, like it’s some kind of joke. What happened to ‘if you need anything, let me know’?”

Charles listened intently, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Hopefully it was just an assembly issue” he said, trying to ease your frustration. ”Imola should go smoothly for the two of us. We both know you’re a hell of a driver.” 

Imola was next, and that was somehow even worse than Australia. Instead of acceleration and braking problems, the new issue was the engine. It had to be replaced between practice 3 and qualifying, only for the new one to fail during the race in Imola. 

“I have the utmost trust in my team.” You said during your press interviews “We’ve tried upgrades, but they’ve fallen flat. Hopefully Miami provides some better results” 

For Miami, the team had reverted your car back to the original set up, the one it had when the season started. The difference was night and day. The car felt responsive, alive in ways it hadn’t in the past few races. As you flew through all three practice sessions and qualifynig, you could feel the weight lift from your shoulders. You had been pushing the limits all weekend, and it had paid off - P2, only behind Charles. Things were looking up. 

The problem now was the strategy. As the number two driver, you knew your strategies were mostly going to be defend defend defend but you didn’t realize how badly Ferrari’s lack of adaptability would come into play 

The race was shaping up to be intense. Charles had led most of it, with Max behind him. You were right behind Max, keeping a steady pace, but always aware of the massive pressure from the drivers behind. Then, when Charles pitted, you thought, for sure, you’d get the green light to battle Max for the lead. After all, you were right there, in prime position.

Instead, the radio crackled to life. 

“Y/n keep defending. Leclerc will be back up there in no time.” Your engineer said

You blinked, incredulous. “I’m sorry what?” You couldn’t believe what you just heard. 

“Defend Max. Charles will be back up there to take over. Hold your position” he repeated as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious?” you barked back, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. “I can overtake him for the lead and you want me to defend?!” 

Before your engineer could respond, Mattia’s voice boomed over your radio “Defend y/n. Team orders.” 

You could feel your irritation building, but there was no choice. Ferrari had spoken. You stayed behind Max, holding position, and waiting for Charles to catch up. Sure enough, Charles had soon found his way back to you, but by that point, Max was far enough ahead that any shot at victory was all but lost. 

Later, in the media pen, you stood with the press surrounding you, microphones, shoved in your face. They asked you the usual questions, but you were still stewing over what had happened. 

“Yeah, I mean the car felt great” You started, trying to keep your tone even. “We reverted back to the original, pre-upgrades and the car showed it’s worth”

The reporter pressed further. “Now even though the car was great, why do you think you couldn’t pull off the win? You were less than a second behind Max, and chose to defend your position instead of attacking.”

A disappointed sigh escaped your lips. You were tired of repeating the same frustrations. “If it was up to me, I would have attacked. I know we would’ve gotten a different result on the podium today. If we had a different strategy, then we would have gotten many more points.” 

“How do you think this result is going to impact the championships?” another reporter asked 

You paused, considering the question. “It could make or break it. There’s a large jump of points between one, two and three, and one thrown away strategy can make or break a shot at either championship. I’m just hoping they don’t mess up Charles’ strategies like they have mine.” 

As you finished your media duties, you made your way back to the garage, expecting to be alone with your thoughts. But to your surprise, Charles was waiting for you.  

“What are you doing here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached

“I, uh, wanted to congratulate you on P3. You had a good race out there” He said sheepishly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

You shrugged, the weight of the day still on you. “I could have won if my strategy wasn’t total shit.” you muttered, your tone flat.

Charles let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it. P1 and P2 would have been great, but strategy isn’t Ferrari’s strong suit” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a shared understanding.

“So I’ve learned.” you replied dryly. “I just hope it isn’t bad enough to fuck up winning either championship” 

He nodded, a look of quiet concern in his eyes. “So do I. I’m terrified my shot at a driver’s championship is gonna slip away” 

Before you knew it, your interview was trending all over social media. Clips of you talking about the strategy missteps were circulating, and the Tifosi and general F1 fans alike were all over it. They didn’t believe you. They thought you were complaining, too bitter about the loss, and some even accused you of undermining the team. The backlash was stiff.

User1: there’s no way they’re going to mess up the golden boy’s strategy. Mattia cares too much about winning to do that

User2: y/n doesn’t know racing. She’s obviously going to get the shit strategy - she’s not charles 

User3: Ferrari needs to get rid of her. She doesn’t belong here #burnthebitch

Before media day in Spain, you got called into Mattia’s office. 

“Thank you for joining me on such quick notice y/n” Mattia said with a smile as you walked in 

You gave him a polite smile as you sat across from his desk “Of course. Why did you call me in?” 

The smile on his face instantly hardened “We need to talk about how you approach the media. You embarrassed myself, along with the rest of the Ferrari staff during Miami.” 

You found yourself fixing your posture and dropping the smile you had previously, prepared to go toe to toe with your principal. “I would say I told the truth on how the race was handled. We could have left Miami with eleven more points, had we gone P1 and P2”

Mattia sighed “That may be true, but we know you couldn’t have battled Max safely. Regardless, that was two weeks ago. We need to focus on Spain now.” 

“Whatever” You mutter “ If we provide sufficient results, I’ll give you praise. If we don’t, I’ll keep mentioning what needs to be done better. Simple as that” 

Spain turned out better for you than it did for Charles. You had finished P4, while Charles was forced to retire. Another blow for Ferrari. 

Both of you managed to score points in Monaco. The car felt good and it seemed like the team was back to how they were at the start of the season. That is until Baku. 

The start of the race seemed like it was going well. The practices and qualifying went well. Charles was on pole and you were not far behind him at P4. But that’s when the good luck ended. Just like the Australian Grand Prix, your brakes were faulty, and this time your clutch wasn’t working. 

“Check the hydraulics - brakes aren’t working again and clutch is out.” You voiced over the radio, concern filling your words 

After a few moments of silence, your engineer’s voice filled your ears. “Seems we have a uh hydraulic problem. You need to retire the car.” 

You muttered a curse as you found a spot to pull your car off. If it wasn’t a strategy issue, it was the car. If it wasn’t the car, it was something else. Something always had to go wrong. 

It was only lap eight and Charles was still driving. You had some hope he could get points for the team and for his championship. 

Throwing on a spare headset in the Ferrari garage, you watched as Charles battled through the streets of Baku. Just as quick as he was driving, the problems with his car also began to show. He had to retire only a handful of laps later with a power problem. 

While Ferrari’s golden boy wouldn’t have a negative thing to say about them during the pressers, you had much less of a filter. 

“You can mark my words that we aren’t winning a championship this year. As much as I want to put faith into our team and our strategies, we’ve shown time and time again we come up short.” 

Instead of your remarks being pushed aside by everyone, you found yourself in the spotlight. All eyes were on you as you walked into the paddock for the British Grand Prix. You acknowledged your team out of respect, and they greeted you back, but you could tell there was tension. 

“Mattia wanted me to tell you that the strategy for today is the same as usual: protect Charles.” Your engineer told you as the two of you sat down for lunch

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why couldn’t Mattia tell me that himself?” 

“He doesn’t think you deserve his time and energy” He said, rolling his eyes 

A scoff left your lips “That’s ridiculous. We’re both adults. He needs to act like it.” 

“You’re telling me” Your engineer muttered 

Before you knew it, it was lights out at Silverstone. The race was a disaster for everyone. While a scary crash had been cleaned up, leading to a restart, another safety car was put out for a stopped car. 

“Y/n box box” Your engineer spoke through your earbuds 

Under the safety car, you were able to pit and get fresh soft tires. When the race resumed, you quickly found yourself behind Charles. 

“Am I defending again?” You asked 

“You are free to overtake, but you must give up the position once Charles gets back up after pitting” 

“You mean Charles didn’t box under the safety car?” 

“Correct.” 

“Fucking idiots” You sighed, but did as you were told. 

Charles easily gave up the front position to you as he headed to the pit lane. You expected him to make a quick comeback in the next few laps, but as the laps ticked by, the gap remained. The radio crackled with instructions from your engineer, and you kept your focus, pushing through. 

And just like that, you crossed the finish line. Your first Grand Prix victory. 

The celebrations were a blur - the podium, the champagne, the flashing cameras. As the trophy was handed to you, you felt a surge of pride, but the weight of the race still hung in the air. Charles had been a force throughout the race, and even though you had won, it felt wrong that he hadn’t been able to capitalize on his pace. 

After the post-race formalities wrapped up, you found yourself in Charles’ room, finally able to breathe. He greeted you with a grin, the kind that only someone who experienced a dramatic race could wear.

“Congratulations! First win!” Charles said, his voice full of enthusiasm 

“You should have fucking won that and we both know it.” You said as you tossed him a Gatorade 

Charles caught the bottle with a small chuckle, cracking it open “You’re fucking telling me.” he said, taking a long swing. “At least Mattia didn’t chastise you on national TV.” 

You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed. “Maybe we’ll both be off speaking terms with him by the end of the season,” you joked, but there was no humor in the situation. “But seriously, what did he say?” 

Charles groaned, clearly not looking forward to recounting the conversation “Basically that I needed to listen to team orders. He was pissed that I was pissed that I didn’t win the thing. Said I needed to trust that the team knows what they’re doing.”

“They know what they’re doing?” You raised an eyebrow “Because the last time I checked, they’ve messed up both of our races this season” 

“Tell me about it” His tone shifted, frustration building, “I need him out.” 

A small grin tugged at the corner of your mouth “Twenty bucks he’s out of his job by the end of the season” 

Charles hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand “Deal” 

The rest of the season trudged along, with highs and lows in the car, the strategy, and the relationship between Mattia and his drivers. There were some days he would be all over their radios encouraging them, while others he would avoid them like the plague. 

And sure enough, once Abu Dhabi came, Charles and Ferrari were so far behind Max and Red Bull that it was impossible to catch up to them in either championship. Mattia announced that he would be stepping down at the end of the season, and you had repaired your rocky relationship with your team, allowing you to renew your contract with Ferrari. 

It was the final time in the media pen this season, and it felt much different. The usual questions about the ups and downs of the season were there, but now they came with a certain respect - respect for the struggles you had endured and for the candidness with which you handled it all. Your honest take on Ferrari’s performance had earned its fair share of criticism, but it had also sparked conversations, both within the paddock and among fans. 

The final question from the reporter hit differently. The interviewer’s tone wasn’t mocking, but rather filled with a certain curiosity. “How does it feel to know that you had called it earlier in the season, that Ferrari weren’t going to win either championship this year?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as you processed it. The emotions of the entire season flashed through your mind: the excitement of the podiums early on, the disappointment after races like Miami and Baku, the frustrations with the strategies, and the battles you fought on and off the track. It had been a rollercoaster, and while it hadn’t turned out the way you had hoped, you were still standing. 

You cracked a smile as you spoke, a mix of pride and exhaustion “Oh, so you guys believe me now?” you said, your voice light but laced with the weight of everything that had happened. “Have a good winter break. I’ll see you in Bahrain” 

It was the moment of closure you needed. The reporter thanked you for your time, before wishing you a good break as well. As you walked away from the media pen with Charles by your side, the season’s tension finally seemed to release, at least for a moment. 

Charles, sensing the mood, nudged you. “That was… honestly, impressive. You know, calling it before anyone else.” 

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I had a feeling.” you said, shrugging. “At least I wasn’t wrong.”

Charles smirked, clearly tired but also relieved that the season was over. “Let’s just hope next year’s a little less… chaotic, yeah?”

“Agreed.”

[ducksido]

I love Lilia and I love how you wrote about him (Thank you so much!!!!) 😩 Can I ask for a platonic relationship with Crowley? Someone drops a baby off at the NRC (it could be a fairy or a human), Crowley thinks about what to do, but the baby does something cute and Crowley just says "now this is my baby. THIS IS MY CHICK." I don't know if you have a query limit? количество запросов?

(I do not have a limit)

The baby was unceremoniously left at the gates of Night Raven College.

Crowley had no idea who could have done such a thing—whether it was a desperate fairy seeking a safe haven for their child or an irresponsible human hoping someone else would bear the burden. But as he peered down at the tiny, swaddled figure, he was faced with a pressing question.

What was he supposed to do with it?

He hummed, tapping a gloved finger to his chin. “Now, now, as the esteemed headmage of this prestigious institution, it would be highly improper for me to take care of a—”

The baby gurgled and reached out toward him with the tiniest, chubbiest fingers.

Crowley blinked.

Then the baby cooed and kicked its little legs, making a small, determined squawk.

A gasp. Then, without a shred of hesitation, he scooped the baby up into his arms, cradling it against his chest. “Now this is my baby. This is my chick!” he declared with an emotional flourish. "You shall be Y/n Crowley!"

And just like that, the problem was solved.

He would figure out the logistics later. For now, the baby was his, and that was all that mattered. --------------

Raising a child in a prestigious school for dark magic was not easy, but Crowley was nothing if not resourceful (and dramatic). The students had long since grown used to the sight of their headmage rushing down the halls with a small toddler perched on his shoulders, giggling wildly as Crowley flapped his arms like wings.

The staff, on the other hand, were not so amused.

“Headmage, you cannot let them crawl around the alchemy labs!” Professor Crewel scolded, arms crossed as he glared at the small human attempting to climb a stack of books. “They are a menace.”

“They are a delight!” Crowley countered, swooping in to scoop up his chick before they could tumble. “Besides, my dear Crewel, you must admit, they have a natural curiosity for magic!”

The child beamed up at Crewel, waving their tiny hands. “Magic!”

Crewel sighed heavily. “…You are lucky they are adorable.”

The students adored them too. A small child running around NRC meant chaos, of course, but also entertainment. They quickly learned to copy Crowley’s habits—dramatic entrances, overly poetic speeches, and a strange fascination with shiny objects.

By the time they could walk properly, they were already flouncing around in a tiny version of Crowley’s coat, complete with tiny golden embellishments. If Crowley had a feathered cloak, they had a fluffy one lined with soft black and gold trim.

“My chick, you are the spitting image of your dear father!” Crowley declared proudly, dabbing at imaginary tears.

Y/N struck a proud pose. “Like Papa!”

--------------

The grand hall of Night Raven College was filled with the murmuring of students as Headmage Crowley prepared to give his annual speech.

Among the first-years stood Y/N, dressed in a long, dramatic coat lined with luxurious black and gold feathers, eerily similar to Crowley’s own. A mask dangled lazily from their hip, and their golden accessories caught the candlelight just right. The resemblance to the headmage was undeniable.

“Hmm, hmm! Welcome, my dear students, to another year at Night Raven College!” Crowley boomed, sweeping his arms wide. “I trust that you—”

A loud yowl echoed through the hall.

“Hey! Get back here, you little furball!”

A blue blur dashed between students, knocking over chairs and sending books flying. The creature came to a screeching halt at Y/N’s feet, staring up at them with fiery eyes.

Y/N tilted their head.

“You look… weird,” they murmured.

“I am not weird! I am the Great Grim! And I—ACK!” Grim yelped as several students attempted to grab him, narrowly dodging their grasp.

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ugh, what is that—”

Y/N bent down, plucking Grim up by the scruff. They stared into his round, glowing eyes. Grim squirmed for a second, then went still, tail twitching.

“I like him,” Y/N declared.

Crowley paled. “Oh, dear.”

Grim smirked. “Yeah, yeah! This human’s got good taste! So, what do ya say, huh? Take me as your loyal companion!”

Y/N hummed in thought before nodding. “Okay.”

Crowley let out a dramatic gasp. “My chick, no! One stray in the family is enough!”

Too late. Y/N had already cradled Grim in their arms, patting his head.

“I’m keeping him.”

“Oh, my poor heart,” Crowley whined, placing a hand over his chest. “This is exactly how I felt all those years ago!”

A chuckle came from behind them.

“Man, that’s crazy,” said Ace, watching the interaction with interest. “You really just picked up a talking cat like it’s normal, huh?”

Deuce nodded. “I guess… I guess they take after the headmage?”

Y/N turned, their golden eyes glinting under the candlelight. “Hmmm? And who are you two?”

The duo stiffened.

Ace waved awkwardly. “Uh. Your future best friends, probably?”

Crowley sniffled dramatically in the background. “Look at my little chick… making friends already!”

Y/N rolled their eyes but let a small smile slip.

Welcome to Night Raven College.

[glamourscat]

OKUMURA BROTHERS ANALYSIS

I want to sympathise with Yukio, and in some ways, I do. He grew up in such an erratic way, forced to train at just seven years old and put under a level of stress no kid should ever face. Forced by his father figure to join the exorcists, explicitly for Rin’s sake, because Yukio had to “look out for him.” So, he starts training, becomes one of the youngest exorcists in the order, and develops this perfectionist mindset where mistakes simply can’t exist in his world.

The truth is, both Rin and Yukio were raised by a man who wasn’t even sure how to be a man himself. He had no clue what it really meant to live as a human being. He was raised as a machine by the order and whether he meant it or not, he ended up raising Yukio and Rin to be machines too, because that’s all he knew.

Then everything falls apart. Rin’s a mess, blaming himself for their father’s death and Yukio is emotionally and mentally burnt out after years of acting like a parent to Rin (who lets no forget got a completely different childhood than Yukio) and to himself.

So no, I don’t necessarily blame Yukio. As someone who’s been parentified myself, I get his anger and frustration. Feeling invisible while your sibling gets all the attention. Drowning in your own pain while everyone assumes you’re “strong enough” to handle it.

The difference comes when Rin, unlike Yukio, begins to confront his powers and accept them as part of who he is, Yukio doesn’t. He sees his powers as a flaw, proof of everything he hates about himself. He doesn’t understand them and doesn’t want to.

To Yukio, control equals survival. And his “powers” are nothing but a miscalculation in his perfect equation. Rin is a bursting flame (pun intended) who cannot be tamed. Rin’s carefree nature and willingness to accept their chaotic world, threats the fragile wall Yukio has built around himself. Rin challenges everything he knows and believes in just by existing.

While Rin’s arc is about self-acceptance, Yukio’s is about denial. He can’t reconcile his human (and that hint of a possible demonic side) so he lashes out at the person who reminds him of everything he’s running away from, Rin.

Ultimately, they’re both products of a system that values survival over happiness. Rin fights to break free from it, while Yukio becomes more entrenched, continuing the cycle that hurt him. Because that’s the only thing he knows. And the only thing he is allowing himself to know. So no, I cannot blame someone who was never taught how to deal with their own feelings and thus, explode when everything becomes too much.

What I do blame him for, though, are his calculated actions. What Yukio went through is an explanation on why he acts a certain way, but not a pass to excuse his actions.

Hurting his own brother, even when he knows it’s wrong. Shooting Rin whenever it’s convenient. Cussing him out. I get why he’s like this, I really do. I just can’t ignore, though, how the victim in this situation turned into the one doing the harm. He’s letting the cycle continue. Father Fujimoto trained him to be a soldier and without even realising it, Yukio keep pushing those same ideals onto Rin.

The sad truth about the twins is this: Yukio can keep hurting Rin over and over again and Rin will still forgive him. Because Rin loves his brother with all his heart. And Yukio? It’s not that he hates Rin, he does care, but he doesn’t have enough self respect to know what it means to properly care and show that care to someone he loves.

[niiwa-angel]

Living through a war is tough but it's harder when you also have to raise sparkling. You can't completely let them know what's going on but you ant keep them totally in the dark either. Which leads to some odd chaos at the Autobots base.

~~~

Prowl: Question. Why is your sparkling here? This is a battle preparatory meeting.

Optimus: He's keeping minutes.

Bumblebee, scribbling on a drawing pad: 🙂‍↕️

~~~

Ironhide: Everyone please remember to check containers before sending them to the trash compartment. I just found Sunstreaker napping in one.

~~~

Optimus: Reminder, weapons are to be locked and secured at all times. Putting them on a high shelf doesn't count, Cliffjumper just climbs up to get them. We cannot have a thermal grenade in the hands of someone who still puts everything he finds in his mouth.

Hound: Is that why my thermal grenade was all slimy?

~~~

Ratchet: Alright! I know we're often in a hurry but can bots please watch their freaking feet! This is the third time this deca-cycle I've had to treat a sparkling because they got stepped on!

Hoist: Frags sake guys, they're brightly coloured.

~~~

Jazz: Whoever gave Sunny and Sides a whole bunch of rust sticks right before their bedtime and then sent them back to me: I will find you and payback is a glitch.

~~~

Optimus: If you're going to bring me a sparkling to complain about, can you at least make sure it's one of mine? Wheeljack, you brought me Sideswipe yesterday and were convinced he was Hot Rod.

Wheeljack: We have too many red sparklings. I think we should get rid of whichever one keeps getting into my lab!

~~~

Hoist: Just because the Sparklings like the rust sticks doesn't mean they can eat them for every meal! They need proper nutrition!

~~~

Optimus: I don't disagree with assigning chores to the Sparklings but 'fetch me some high grade' is not an appropriate chore.

Optimus: And rewarding them with a sip is definitely not appropriate.

~~~

Ratchet: I understand tensions are a little high right now, but some of you need to keep your fight or flight protocols in check. Our first reaction upon seeing a little bot running towards you should not be to kick them.

Ironhide: I am so sorry for that, I had just woken up!

~~~

Optimus: Appropriate punishments for the Sparklings do not include welding them to the walls! I don't know who stuck Sideswipe up there but you need to go let him down.

Wheeljack: That oughta teach that little Fragger to stay out of my lab.

~~~

Jazz: I know my two tend to get into the most trouble but can you all please double check before blaming them? Someone sent Sunstreaker to time out because of something Ravage got in here and took.

Prowl: Wish Ravage had taken Sunstreaker.

~~~

Elita-One: Everyone be aware, Cliffjumper figured out how to get into the vents. Please make sure all vent grates are properly secure.

~~~

Optimus: At the risk of sounding unprofessional, I JUST got Bumblebee settled down for a nap, if anybot wakes him, they WILL be sent to play chicken with the Decepticon turrets.

[holdmytesseract]

daryl dixon x fem!reader

🪶 part two

warnings for this chapter: typical twd stuff, walkers, weapons, 'idiots in love', insecure!Daryl? lots of tension? another cliffhanger, swear words, Carol and Daryl being besties

word count: 4k

a/n: i finished writing this sweet mini series - and i absolutely cannot wait to share the other three parts with y'all! i love this so much.

[ 🪶 part one ]

masterlist 🪶 EoH Masterlist

LITRM Masterlist 🪶 Daryl Masterlist

Daryl snorted and shook his head at his best friend's words. "Nah." A reaction the woman had kind of anticipated. "Yes, you are, Daryl. Admit it to yourself." The archer scoffed, "'M not... in love." and continued to dispute it. Carol sighed; letting go of the man's arm and slightly shifted to be able to face him better.

"Okay, where's the problem? What's so bad about being in love?" Daryl scoffed; throwing the stone in his hands away, which caused Dog's ears - who laid snuggled against his dad's leg - to perk up. "Nothin'. 'S just... I've never did this before. Not properly." "And that's okay. I'm sure Y/N understands that as well. There's a first for everything."

Another moment of silence passed, before Carol took the hand of her best friend in hers; causing his head to turn and face her. "You deserve to be happy, Daryl. You deserve a happy end. Especially after all that shit you've been through. You deserve to be loved." The archer's hand gently squeezed the woman's hand as he pressed his lips in a thin line; not saying a word. He simply didn't know what to say.

"Don't you want this?" She asked carefully then, to which Daryl only shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno," he said; voice merely above a whisper.

"Well..." Carol started, and took a deep breath. Her hand let go of his again. "No matter how you decide on this, you have to give Y/N her notebook back." Daryl grunted lowly. "Can't ya give it back to 'er?" The gray haired woman shook her head; "No." a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "I won't let you run away from this, Mr. Crossbow. You'll have to face this - and Y/N."

"You really think I'm gonna find it again?" You questioned Michonne sceptically. The woman smiled and nodded confidently. "Yes. Don't worry. Your notebook will find its way back to you. I'm sure of it." "Okay..." You gave her an uptight smile and went to hug her in order to say goodbye. "If you say so..."

That's what Michonne said... Almost two months ago, right before she (and everyone else) returned to their communities... Slowly, you really started to lose hope... You sighed and clapped your diary shut; hiding it again underneath your mattress. Just as you wanted to blow out the candle and go to bed, you could hear a soft - almost faint knock against the door to the cozy, little hut you lived in. Frowning, you reached for your knife and slowly made your way over. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door - only to see a familiar figure standing in front of it. Well, rather the back of a familiar figure. Your heart skipped a beat.

"Daryl?"

Your voice caused the archer with his signature angel-winged vest to stop dead in his tracks. "What are you doing here?"

The man swallowed hard - unbeknownst to you. He had hoped that you were asleep already. That he arrived too late in Oceanside. That he didn't have to face this, but reassuring his conscience with the fact that he tried.

Well, his plan failed.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face you; arms crossed behind his back to hide your precious notebook. "Been bringin' some stuff for the trade." It wasn't a lie. "O-kay," you gave him a nod, then frowned. "I-I mean, no. What are you doing here?" You vaguely gestured around to refer to your hut; unable to form a different sentence. The presence of your crush totally threw your already tired brain totally off-track.

"Oh, uh," Daryl started and ducked his head, while nervously chewing on the inside of his bottom lip; working hard to form the right words in his head. "I, uh, jus' wanted to give ya somethin' back." Slowly, he brought forward your notebook from behind his back, causing your eyes to widen.

"Belongs to ya, righ'?" You nodded; stunned and wordless. Daryl took a few hesitant steps closer - as if you were a wounded, dangerous animal. "Found it, 'n thought I should give it back to ya." Once he was close enough, he literally shoved the notebook into your arms and chest, before quickly stepping backwards again.

You blinked; looked from him to the notebook and back. "T-Thanks, I-" "'Course, see ya." The archer instantly interrupted you and this time really turned on his heels and vanished into the night; leaving you just standing there. What you didn't see, nor hear, was how the man pinched the bridge of his nose and repeatedly mumbled under his breath: "'M a goddamn idiot."

You stood like frozen to the ground in the doorway, just staring into the distance. Only a chilly breeze, which caused goosebumps to spread all over your skin managed to pull you out of your trance like state. Blinking again, you turned around and went back inside the hut; closing the door behind you. You made your way back into your cozy bedroom and got comfortable underneath the sheets; carefully checking the beloved notebook in your hands if it was okay. Not that you didn't trust Daryl, but...

Skipping through the pages, you discovered that everything was as it should be. No ripped pages, not dog-eared or stained. He had been really attentive. A smile spread on your face. The happiness that you got your most valued possession back finally sinking in - but not lasting long...

You reached the last page you had drawn something onto... Daryl. And suddenly sunk your heart to your boots. What if he knew? What if he had seen the drawing? "Oh gods..." You whispered to yourself. Was it a coincidence that he of all people had found your notebook? Should you confront him? Ask him? You had to, right? Or not?

Your head started to spin; one thought chasing the next. Needless to say, it was a sleepless night.

You couldn't tell yet if fate wanted to help you or kick you repeatedly in the butt. All you wanted the following day was to talk to Cyndie - thinking Daryl had left Oceanside again, but then you saw the two of them having a seemingly important conversation. With your eyes widening, you quickly turned on your heels again and wanted to 'flee'.

But you didn't get far.

"Y/N, wait!" You heard Cyndie call out. Squeezing your eyes shut in a grimace, you took a deep breath and turned to face them with a fake smile. "Good to see you. You're just in time." "O-Oh, yeah? Am I?" Cyndie nodded with a smile, then gestured towards the archer. "Daryl agreed to help us get the new solar panels we need. You know, the ones which got destroyed in that storm a few weeks ago?" "Yeah, I know... How, uh, kind of him." "Indeed," Cyndie agreed. "And you are going to go with him."

Your eyes widened again; cheeks instantly turning red.

"M-Me?"

"Her?"

Both, you and Daryl exclaimed simultaneously.

Cyndie's eyes darted back and forth between you and the archer. A borderline skeptical look was on her face as she nodded. "Yes. You know the area pretty well. Better than anybody. You know where that warehouse is," she explained, then scanned your faces again. "Is this a problem for you two? A conflict or anything else you want to talk about?"

"No."

"Nah."

You and Daryl answered simultaneously once more. The leader of the community gave you both another skeptical look. "Okay. You should gear up and get going then. Better be back before it gets dark. And be careful, yes? Take care." Cyndie received two nods as an answer. "Good," she said and turned to walk away. "Oh, and Daryl?" The archer looked up to face the woman. "Thank you. Your help is highly appreciated." The man nibbled at his bottom lip and gave her another nod; desperately trying to hide the upcoming nervosity inside him.

You inhaled a deep breath in a lousy attempt to calm your rapidly beating heart. It was beyond excited to spend time with the man it secretly yearned for. Your head on the other hand was signaling you the complete opposite. Your head told to run and hide, despite knowing that you couldn't. You agreed to this mission, after all.

"Get yer stuff. Ten minutes at the gate," Daryl's voice urged to your ears, but before you could say something, he was gone.

"Shit, shit, shit," you cursed under your breath. This was going to be a fucking nightmare

Thirty minutes later, you and Daryl were on the road together; making your way to the warehouse with the solar panels. Cyndie had described the way and even handed him a small map. You really didn't know why she nevertheless send you along. Just because you 'knew the area'? You had to suppress a scoff. Despite all that, though, were you certain that your leader had no idea which hell she pushed you through. It was torture. You absolutely didn't know how to act around Daryl anymore. The uncertainty what he knew and if he had seen your drawing of him (including the poem) was positively driving you insane.

Of course, you didn't have the guts to ask him either; too afraid of the outcome. What were you supposed to say anyway?

'Hey, Daryl, have you coincidentally seen the drawing I made of you in my notebook? Why I drew you? Oh, just because I'm totally into you.'

No. Certainly not.

Therefore, you settled on staying quiet and watching him instead. Analyzing his behavior. Daryl was walking ahead in silence; crossbow slung over his back and map haphazardly stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans. He led the way, but looked regularly back over his shoulder to make sure you were still there. It was challenging to lower your gaze in time and avoid his beautiful eyes whenever he did that. No words were exchanged. Sure, Daryl wasn't super talkative. He had never been and you knew that, but... You felt like he was even quieter than before. It was weird. His whole demeanor was weird. He was acting... different - and it gave you chills.

What if he had truly seen the drawing and is now creeped out by me? What if he thinks I'm weird? Or crazy? Or he's disgusted? Angry?

Your thoughts were a mental merry-go-round.

Little did you know that the archer was acting so distant and weird because his romantic feelings for you he had discovered a few weeks back were skyrocketing since he was that close to you for almost two hours now, and he just didn't know what to do with himself. He felt like a teenage boy falling in love for the first time. He just hoped that this was over fast and he could return back home to Alexandria and hide away.

But fate had other plans, of course. It didn't let you and Daryl off the hook that easily. Quite the opposite...

"S-Stay here? Overnight?" You squeaked out in a high-pitched, yet muffled voice; shocked and appalled. "Ain't got no choice," Daryl whisper-shouted as he carefully peeked out of one of the small, dirty windows of the barricaded door. "'S way too dangerous, 'n it's gettin' dark soon. There 'r way too many of 'em out there. We can't take 'em. Not jus' the two 'a us." He referred to the rather big herd of walkers, which had suddenly decided to flood the small town you were in. "If ya wanna go 'n die, go. Ain't gonna hold ya back," he snapped gruffly, but instantly regretted it again. The mere thought of seeing you die caused his heart to shoot an aching pain through his whole body. Oh, how he would hold you back...

You just nodded wordlessly and turned around to somehow make yourself comfortable. "Well, at least we got the solar panels," you whispered and vanished around the corner. He could hear the slight hurt in your voice.

Daryl sighed deeply and squeezed his eyes shut. "Idiot. Yer a damn idiot, Dixon," he muttered to himself and managed to barely hold back his fist from slamming it against the steel door. Attracting a ton of hungry walkers in an already shitty situation wasn't a good idea.

To keep his mind distracted with other things that weren't you - and frankly to give himself an excuse to not face you, he patrolled the whole building; checking every window and door to make sure that nothing dangerous could get in. Dead or alive.

Nevertheless, Daryl knew that he had to face you at some point. He just couldn't stay away. His selfless nature and the attraction he felt towards you literally urging him on to check in on you and protect you if necessary. So, he made his way carefully to the little camp you had set up. Wordlessly, he set his crossbow down, shrugged off his backpack and sat down opposite you with his back resting against the cool wall. He just watched you for a long moment with the pad of his thumb between his teeth; gnawing at the rough skin, as you munched on some bread you had packed.

"Barricaded the doors 'n made sure nothin' can get in," Daryl dared to speak up then. "We should keep watch anyway, though. Ain't takin' the risk." You nodded - and silence settled over the both of you again. It was nowhere near pleasant and rather suffocating. And yet neither of you knew what to say, until...

"Ya mad at me or sum'thin'?"

The archer's sudden, unexpected words cut through the silence like a knife. Daryl himself didn't even know why he said them. They just slipped past his lips. You hadn't given him a glance. Until now. You looked up slowly - almost shyly. Your eyes met his, and he could swear that his heart skipped a beat - just like yours. Then you shook your head. "No. Why should I?" The man opposite you merely shrugged his shoulders. "'Cause yer actin' pissed 'n distant." You scoffed, "Me? Distant and pissed?" and crossed your arms over your chest. "You're the one who's acting weird and distant." Daryl grunted, and shook his head; causing a few wild bangs to fall into his face. "Nah, I ain't. Dunno whatcha mean." "You're a bad liar." Now Daryl scoffed. "Yeah? How do ya know? Ya ain't know shit 'bout me."

You didn't know why, but his words stung.

You said nothing and instead turned away from him to lay down on the hard, uncomfortable underground with your backpack acting as a pillow. "I thought we were friends, but... Apparently I got that wrong," you whispered and closed your eyes. And again Daryl regretted his words. How could he act so stupidly and make the same mistakes again and again?

Another long period of silence passed between the both of you, while it got dark outside. The only source of light were both yours and the archer's flashlights. The faint but always present sounds of familiar groans and snarls reminded you constantly of the danger lurking outside - why you were trapped in this damn building, and keeping you from sleeping. Since you had turned away from the man across you, you had been staring out of the distant window; watching the moon replace the sun through a thick layer of dirt and dust.

"You could've just told me." Your quiet voice ripped Daryl out of his trance like state; deeply sunken in his own thoughts. "Wha'?" He asked; heart speeding up again as his brain registered your words and the possible meanings behind them. Tell you what? That he loved you? Have you managed to see through his façade?

"That you hate me."

Your words soothed and simultaneously hurt him. Relieved that you hadn't figured him out. Hurt that you were thinking he hated you. "Wha'?" He croaked out again; too stunned to get his mouth to say something different. You shifted and turned to face him once more. The light wasn't bright and your face barely illuminated, and yet he could see the nervosity on your face. Your eyes held fear, regret - and something he couldn't pinpoint. "You... You've seen the page, didn't you? I-In my notebook. That's why you act like that. You hate me now." You didn't know where you took the bravery from to ask him that. Perhaps it was the steady relentless nagging of the voice in your head. Perhaps you just couldn't take the uncertainty any longer.

Daryl was speechless. Way too overwhelmed by what you just said. She knows. She knows. She knows. The words echoed through his mind on repeat. His pulse sped up once more as he stared at you in shock. "I-I-" The man stammered and needed quite a few moments to get himself together. "Nah. I-I mean, yeah. I, uh, saw your drawin'. 'M sorry. I didn't mean to snoop around. I jus' wanted to figure out who the notebook belonged to."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you cursed internally; having a hard time to hide your blush. This was beyond embarrassing. You felt like being stripped butt naked and put in front of a huge crowd of people; judging and laughing at you. Your mind worked at lightning speed to find the right words to say to Daryl. A good explanation. An apology. A white lie-

"But I dun hate ya."

And suddenly it was quiet. All the thoughts and voices in your head suddenly fell silent.

Blinking, and completely in disbelief, you sat up. "What?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders; nervously fumbling with his fingers. "I dun hate ya."

You blinked again. "You... Don't?" "Nah."

Another beat of silence passed, in which your brain just tried to comprehend what your ears just heard. You opened your mouth to say something and answer him, but before a single word could leave your lips, a loud noise could be heard from just outside the building. It caused both your survival instincts to kick in; the conversation forgotten for the moment. "Get over, 'n turn off yer flashlight," the archer whisper-shouted as he got on his feet; extinguishing the light and drawing his knives. You quickly nodded and got over to him. Pressing your back against the wall beside Daryl, you drew your weapon as well and switched off the flashlight. It was entirely dark now in the way too large warehouse - except for the moonlight shining through the high windows. Adrenaline pumped through your body as you stood there besides Daryl; breathing shakily. The noise you had heard a few moments ago didn't repeat itself, but the snarls and growls outside got louder.

The archer stowed his knives away again and switched his flashlight back on, before he made his way over to an old shelf. "Help me get that thing over there," he said; jutting his chin towards the wall ahead and taking the flashlight between his lips. You did the same and hurried over to help him get the shelf as quietly as possible over to stand directly against the wall; not knowing what his intention was. You discovered it soon, though; watching with wide eyes as he started to climb on the damn shelf. "Daryl," you whispered. "What are you doing? This thing is old. What if it breaks?" "Ain't gonna break. 'M jus' takin' a look," he grunted and reached the top; pulling himself up to stand and look out of the window. "What is it? Can you see something?" "Jus' a burnin' car," he stated quietly, then shifted to climb down again. "Be careful," you mumbled; watching his every move.

"A burning car?" You asked as the archer had both feet planted firmly back on the ground again. "Yeah. 'N a hell lotta walkers, of course." You frowned. "Means someone is out there?" Daryl shrugged his shoulder. "Could be anythin', but yeah, looks like someone lit it to distract the walkers." He walked back over to your little camp to grab his crossbow. "Imma check the doors again, 'n take a look around. Stay put, 'kay?" "But..." You watched him disappear into the darkness with wide eyes.

You sighed and sat down again; back against the wall and clutching your flashlight and knife tight. Those haunting sounds of dozens of walkers attracted by that car keeping you brain on high alert. You weren't afraid of the situation. Nervous, perhaps. You were afraid that something happened to Daryl. That someway somehow found something dangerous its way past the barricades inside the building and was now lurking in the shadows to attack. Should I follow him? The thought crossed your mind more than just once - but before you could act on it did you hear some rustling. Quickly snapping your head to the right - ready to defend yourself, you watched with pure relief how Daryl appeared from around the corner. "Daryl..." You sighed; a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "You okay?" He nodded. "'M fine. Doors are still barricaded. Seems like nothin' tried to get in," he reported as he put his crossbow back down. "Wha'ever it was it's gone. Think we are safe. Jus' need to wait out those damn walkers. There's even more now." He sat down beside you with a grunt. "The car..." The archer nodded. "Well, at least we are safe for now... Hopefully," you muttered and took another deep breath; leaning your head against his shoulder. Before you realized what you were doing, was it already too late. Your body craved safety and a feeling of comfort - and the man you loved was right there. Apparently did your control slip for a moment, which was enough for your heart to command your body to act as it desired.

Daryl froze at the sudden, unexpected contact; a blush spreading over his whole face and even coloring the tips of his ears. "If you don't hate me... Why do you act like you do?" Your voice was hushed and soft - almost vulnerable. It tore at the archer's heartstrings.

He swallowed; "'Cause I..." trying to find the right words to say. "I didn't mean ta push ya away, 's jus'... I've never... I..." You slowly lifted your head to look at him. You had never seen the archer struggling like that. "You never...?" You asked quietly; literally able to see the gears turning in his head. Daryl shyly tilted his head a mere few inches to be able to look at you as well - a big mistake. He didn't realize how close you truly were. Until now. He was able to see every inch of your beautiful face. Every dimple. Every dip and curve. Every mole and beauty mark.

Once more he swallowed hard; eyes dropping to your lush lips. They looked so warm, so soft, so inviting - and only a few inches separated them from his. It caused the archer's breath to hitch in his throat.

"You never...?" You repeated, seemingly unaware of the situation you both were in. Daryl couldn't do much than stare. "I-I never..." He tried again, but felt himself lose the battle. He leaned in slowly, causing a small gasp to slip past your lips as you suddenly noticed as well how close you were. "D-Daryl?" Your heart threatened to burst with each inch he bridged, until his lips were hovering just above yours.

He is going to kiss me. It's happening. Daryl Dixon is going to kiss me. Am I dreaming?

You couldn't believe this; were clearly thinking that you were caught in a dream. You would've never imagined that this was going to happen - and yet you could feel his warmth radiating off of him and his unsteady breath against your skin.

Like clockwork slipped your eyes shut; ready to finally feel his lips on yours.

[ 🪶 part three ]

tags: @dixonsdarkelf @angelwings-crossbowstrings @ellasdixon @dixons-sunshine @negansbestie @bigbaldheadname @km-ffluv @loz-3 @whore4romance @dilfdixon @mayday2007 @huntedmusicgardenn @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @stitchintimefan @cakesandtom @ffsjustletmesleep @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @secretsicanthideanymore

[spicyvampire]

Let's talk about Mark & his upbringing, mental illnesses, vampireness and emotions processing, can we talk about Mark & his upbringing, mental illnesses, vampireness and emotions processing, please I've been dying to talk about Mark & his upbringing, mental illnesses, vampireness and emotions processing all day

Putting this under read more cuz it go way longer than I planned, okay So

Part 1 : The only child curse

So last episode we learned that Mark grew up in similar ways to Tong but worst, only child, no mother, there really is only him and his dad (probably the people who occasionally visit the infirmary perhaps?) And Mark has been bedridden for so long no outside people can possibly know him (ep 3)

And this is what is way worst than Tong, cuz even if they stopped Tong from doing literally everything ever, at least he was always surrounded by people his age in the orphanage and at least he does have Tonkla (ep 3)

And while Tong feels betrayed right now, Miss Nuan was probably a warm motherly figure too, where as Mark had no one but his father and when he got turned into a vamp (and his dad died) he had no one but Khun Milf

Part 2 : Maybe the real curse was the depression we got along the way

This means multiple things, first of all, the loneliness and depression Mark is feeling as a vampire probably started way before he got turned aka since he was a sick human, it just was what he was used to, being bedridden for years, and it just got prolonged when his life also got prolonged because he knew nothing else (ep 3) (also lol so Mark was sick & frankly dying until he got turned into a vampire, Edward Cullen getting turned by Carlisle cuz he was dying of the Spanish flu anyone?)

Second of all, Mark was probably never properly socialized as a child or before he became an adult vampire, and I think we can all agree that while Khun Milf is a Mother figure for Mark, she is not exactly the poster person to help someone figure out what the fuck emotional processing is (which okay not her fault, alright, she has an entire vampire empire to run and children to grow for their golden blood 😤, go queen), and as a vamp, as he is basically Khun Milf's personal guard dog he doesn't really have friends either (ep 2)

Like Auntie Wan is there and would probably make for a better teacher for all of this emotion stuff but when you've always been a way, you aren't necessarily aware that something is wrong and u need to change it, and again Khun Milf has no advantage in Mark getting better (she got a bag to get, as is her Vampire Empress God Given Right), so I don't see her pointing him in that direction, except that by making him Tong's main guard, she kinda accidentally did?

Part 3 : The Bodyguard (1992) starring Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner

While since Mark got close to him the changes in Mark have been accelerating (thank you Tong and your fluids we are forever grateful), Guarding Tong has been changing Mark for a while now, emotionally I mean, and how I know this? First of all, the goddamn guitar (ep2)

Like yes it is important you dumbass, like I cannot stress enough how to guard Tong it was not necessary to give him gifts, like this isn't anywhere in the bodyguard handbook, in all those years watching over Tong, Mark genuinely took interests in Tong as a person (which is something Tong craves, because he feels like people consider him as a breakable object needing protection more than a person with an agency), and for someone who has no feeling for anything or anyone, that is a huge goddamn step towards caring for something/someone else, second of all the rose necklace (ep 1)

This fucking necklace, while it was given accidentally at first, is also a genuine gift for multiple reason, like obviously after ep 3 Mark gave that to Tong consciously and permanently, but when it stopped Mark dead in his Golden Blood Lust, it wasn't, and yet that necklace had became of symbol of who he protecting and caring for, so he could not hurt Tong any further

Part 4 : feelings vs vampire senses, unstoppable force vs immovable object (or is it more like hydrogen bomb vs coughing baby?)

So we've established Mark doesn't know how to process emotions or feelings, but the thing is, Mark does know what being a vampire is, he has been that for a while now, so when the emotional changes in Mark started being noticeable by Mark, there was a very huge fucking problem in the way

Tong, being the resident Vampire Tasty Fluids Fountain that he is, a fountain that Mark has sampled multiple times at that, is making it fucking impossible for Mark to differentiate between his feelings for Tong that are slowly growing stronger and the effect of those goddamn fluids on his vampire senses, so when Tong got angry, Mark could not tell why he cared so much about it and immediately blamed it on The Tong Fluids Intakes (ep 3)

But the thing is Mark does genuinely like Tong outside his duty as a vampire bodyguard & the delectable nectar of Tong's various bodily fluids (sweat, as the one that is the most recent), and we know this not only because of the gifts (see part 3), but also because Tong genuinely makes Mark laugh which we only see him do around Tong, and Tong brings out his sense of humor too

He wants to show Tong that he can really take cares of him, and want him to try new things (ep 3)

He also sees how sad Tong is to only be filming a video for Miss Nuan's birthday and immediately decides that he is taking Tong there to see her instead, he let Tong go back to the dorms and to Tonkla, after seeing how restless, bored and lonely Tong is with him and the fight in ep 3, because he thinks that's what Tong would like, even if he thinks Tong would be safer in the house with him

Again Mark doesn't need to be doing all of this, like his job IS to be a bodyguard that's all, but for some unknown reasons (to him at least, my eyes are wide open) he is doing his best so that Tong is comfortable and happy, because he likes seeing Tong comfortable and happy

[goldsainz]

FLOWERS FOR YOU — one shot.

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

2K CELEBRATION. MASTERLIST.

taglist: @lorarri @lpab @whatthefuckerr @noncannonships @lunnix

summary: you miss your boyfriend, and he misses you.

request: “You got me flowers and aw did you miss me for Oscar Piastri please?”

warnings: this is very short… but other than that, none

NOTE: first writing for my 2k celly! actually feels unreal that there are 2k of you here…

[ word count: 627 ]

Oscar was often away from your shared flat. His job was demanding, and you understood why. But sometimes the bed felt too cold, or the kitchen too empty.

In every sense your boyfriend was essential to your home, which was why you were very excited for the summer break. It was almost a whole month with Oscar for yourself (of course, his family and friends too).

You didn’t want to be selfish with his attention, but the urge to have him all for yourself was very strong. Nonetheless, you waited up for him to arrive to your shared flat.

It was around one in the morning, his flight had landed a while ago but it wasn’t a quick drive from the airport to where you lived. So, you did your best to remain awake for his arrival despite having an exhausting day yourself. You couldn’t wait to see him.

The minutes ticked by, but finally the lock on your door clicked, and you knew. You knew Oscar was back to you, back in Australia.

You fought the urge to run to him. Too tired to even really muster the thought, but also, he was probably exhausted from the long flight and would not be able to deal with your over excited attitude. And frankly, you didn’t have that much energy left in you.

“Y/N?” His voice was quiet, almost as if he was wary of whether you were awake or not.

“Oscar!” You exclaim, pulling yourself up from the couch to properly greet him.

You went to hug him, but was stopped by the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“You got me flowers?” You asked, grabbing the beautiful set of flowers he had gotten you. The smell made you smile, as you watched his cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink.

“Figured I’d bring something nice,” He says while scratching the back of his neck, “I wasn’t really sure which ones to bring so I—”

“They’re perfect.” You cut him off, placing the flowers on the table closest to you.

Oscar relaxes at your words. He puts down some of his bags, and now that his hands are truly free of anything, he takes a moment to properly hug you.

The moment he hugs you, you momentarily forget how much you missed him. You fit perfectly in his arms, his hoodie is soft against your skin and it makes you snuggle further into him. You don’t want to let him go, but neither does he.

A moment goes by, and while you know your boyfriend must be exhausted from the long flight, you don’t let go of him. You cannot bring yourself to pull away, not even when Oscar makes a move to separate himself.

“Aw, did you miss me?” His voice is a melody to your ears, one that you had been deprived of. Video calls and regular calls don’t do justice to the beauty that his voice is, the utter softness his words have when he speaks to you.

“You bet I did.”

“Yeah? Well, I missed you too.” He whispers, like it’s a secret only meant for you to ever hear, “A lot.”

“A lot lot?”

“So much. You have no idea.”

“In that case, you’re not allowed to leave me for a very long time.” You declare, pushing yourself a little bit off him to look him in the eyes. Your words no longer muffled by his hoodie and the way your pressed against him.

“How long?”

“Until you tire of me.”

Oscar smiles fondly at your words, “I don’t think I ever will.”

“Then you’re not ever leaving.” He huffs out a laugh, and you slightly shake from the rumble in his chest.

“And I’ll be happy not to, darling.”

[littlelionwriting]

Male Companions and Parenting

Here is some headcanons for the male companions (and Zevlor) for Baldur's Gate 3. This is a continuation of the Pregnancy headcanons I wrote previously. If you want to request anything just send me a DM!

Zevlor

His son is a spitting image of him except for his eyes, his eyes are your eyes.

When he holds him for the first time his son's tail wraps around Zevlor's wrist and he feels like his heart will burst.

He's a strict parent but he makes sure that his child knows that they are loved.

He wants to be there for everything, every step, and every word. He wants to be involved.

If his son starts to become interested in weapons or fighting it gives Zevlor a heart attack. He doesn't want that life for his son.

But seeing how important it is to him, seeing how his eyes light up when he is fighting, Zevlor makes sure he is properly trained. Nothing but the best.

He will constantly tell his son how proud he is of him.

"You should have seen him today, Sweetling. He was great. He will be amazing." Zevlor sat on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a grin on his face. "Our family is amazing."

Wyll

When he holds his daughter for the first time, he feels like laughing. His wonderful, beautiful daughter who looks like the perfect mix of the two of you.

He is the dad who has tea parties and helps paint her nails.

Wyll would gladly take her with him when he goes to train, showing her how to properly hold a (dull) blade the moment she is big enough.

He cannot tell her no; she doesn't even bother to ask you for something when she can go to Wyll instead and get what she wants.

The first time he sees his teenage daughter in a proper evening gown for a ball his heart drops cause he knows she isn't his little girl anymore.

He's not the best dancer but he does his best to teach her how to show up everyone on the dance floor.

"Darling, do you see her? Doesn't she look marvelous?" Wyll's eyes go from the dancing figure of your daughter with some noble's son to you as he takes his hand in yours. "Maybe we should take the hint and dance ourselves."

Astarion

His handsome son with his silver hair and red eyes but your skin color.

He is the only one who can get your son to stop crying as a baby. Not even being held by you can quiet the wailing child.

His son may be a troublemaker from the moment he could walk but Astarion would only encourage it. Very much an 'As long as you don't get caught' way of parenting.

Would have no qualms about teaching him how to pick locks or how to use a dagger. One must always be prepared according to Astarion.

He does not like his child being out at night without one of you, even as he gets into his teenage years. If he isn't home by sundown Astarion is ready to go out searching for him.

Astarion makes sure to encourage his son in anything and everything he wants to do. He would gladly buy the world if that is what was asked of him.

"He did well today, Lover. You would have been proud of him." You hummed softly in acknowledgement, not looking up from your book as Astarion walks over to where you sit in front of the first. He smiles before bending over and laying a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Of course, he's your son."

Halsin

When your twins are born Halsin swore they would ask for naught. Holding them both in his large arms to his chest as they slept.

Your son looked like you but had Halsin's hair and eyes while your daughter looked like a clone of Halsin just with your eyes.

Halsin learned early on to keep an eye on them, from the moment they could walk they were running off into the forest. They would often come home covered head to toe in mud.

He makes sure to teach them to respect all creatures, even the gross and icky ones.

It is not uncommon to find one of them on his shoulders. In fact, they often would fight over who got to ride on his shoulders so he had to make them take turns.

His son takes after his father, bringing home random critters much to his father's amusement.

His daughter is on the quiet side, liking to stay by his side and enjoy nature more than the company of people.

Would be over the moon when his daughter felt the call to being a Druid and his son a Ranger.

"You are so proud, Halsin." You walked to his side, taking his large hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand.

"More than you could ever know, my Heart."

Gale

Gale loves his daughter from the moment she is born but he is not a baby or toddler guy.

When he is left alone with her for the first time as a baby you come home to both of them crying.

He does his best which includes taking said daughter with him to any lectures he gives and when she babbles, he acts as if she is answering or giving input.

"Excellent point, Darling! Now, to continue..."

He makes sure she is dressed properly for whatever the weather and makes sure she is always in style.

Tara is her favorite babysitter hands down and Tara is more than happy to follow the young Miss around.

The first time she tells you and Gale she has a crush on someone you have to hold Gale back from threatening the poor soul with a fireball.

Gale makes sure to teach your daughter how to be proper and that includes how to rip someone to shreds with their words.

Gale puts a huge emphasis on education, he will make sure that she has the best tutors and will even tutor her himself if she asked.

"She is doing simply amazing, Dearest. You would never guess she has only been studying for a few years. I say she will soon surpass all the others in her class!" You gave your husband a soft smile as he continued to sing your daughter's praises, happy as can be.

Want to buy me a coffee or commission a short story? Find me here: https://ko-fi.com/littleleonlion

[paranoiastudio]

Lady Strong

pairing: Aemond Targaryen х f!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, angry sex, oral (m for f), reader is Laris Stronge daughter

word count: 1,4k

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

- He's like a snake that's been stepped on. - The doors to the Small Council close and you lean back against them.

Aemond is still sitting at the head of the table, where his brother had been just a few days ago, staring at you.

As always, you feel unsure and nervous under his gaze. That's what attracted you to him; few could make you lose your cool.

- What did you tell him?

- What i had to say. - He evades the question and looks away. An unpleasant chill runs down the back of your neck, a sure sign that something is wrong.

- That's not an answer. - You move around the chamber, the only sound being the rustle of your dress. Aemond says nothing more, only watches you, as if expecting an attack to come.

- I asked him to send for my grandfather. - Aemond lets you take a glass from the table. - I will appoint him Hand again.

- Interesting... - You take a sip. - Dornish wine?

A quiet "uh-huh" was your answer and you take another sip, usually your father did not allow you to drink undiluted wine, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a sober mind.

- And what about my father?

- He is still on the Council... For now.

- And?

- What else do you want to hear? - Targaryen smiles, an insolent smirk twisting his thin lips. - Did you really think that because I fuck you, I would curry favor with your slippery father?

- How dare you speak to me like that?

- I am the prince regent now, it is you who behave inappropriately, barging in here and starting arguments you cannot win.

You spill the contents of the glass, scarlet droplets of wine running down Aemond face and doublet, he closes his good eye. You are not ashamed, it was you who helped him get to where he is now. You deserve respect.

- I am not a mare, my prince! And do not forget about the friends who were with you from the very beginning. Especially since sex...

Aemond pays you with your coin. You knew that you brought him out and were ready, the wine flies past you and ends up on the floor, in the place from which you dodged.

- Missed! - You rejoice like a child, and, leaving the glass on the edge of the table, head for the exit.

You hear footsteps behind you, Aemond can easily catch up with you and press you to the table, you hit the hard edge painfully with your hips and hiss with anger.

- How can such an intelligent woman behave like a little child? - The prince's hand is already entangled in your hair, painfully pulling out the hairpins and hairpins. - Didn't I explain your situation to you well enough? Didn't your father teach you how to behave properly? How can he be a good Hand?

You remain silent, clutching the cold edge of the table with your hands and hissing again when Aemond yanks your hair hard, urging you to raise your head.

- Tell me, sweet girl, is your father worthy of this place? - Gods, he bent you down right next to the place of the Hand, not long ago the smartest men sat at this table, and now...

- Let me explain again. - Targaryen lifts the skirts of your dress and runs his long fingers between your thighs.

- Aemond... - A sharp slap on your ass silenced you. - My prince, please...

No one had ever had power over you, even your father was not perceived as a strong figure. But Aemond Targaryen... He seemed to radiate confidence and authority, everything in his image spoke of it and could not help but attract.

The ladies of the court whispered about the prince's scar and his coldness (he did not court the ladies, never danced), despite his status and royal blood, Aemond was not an enviable groom.

Just as the daughter of Laris Strong was not an enviable bride. Your character and the reputation of your house did not play into your hands and so far you have not received a single worthy proposal of marriage. And, having met Aemond Targaryen, you gave yourself to him without hesitation as soon as he asked. To be under his protection, not to think about anything and just take his beautiful member...

- Now are you behaving well? - Another slap falls on your thigh. - I'm afraid if I forgive you right away, you'll continue to behave like a little naughty girl.

Aemond's hands caress your thighs, spread your buttocks and tease the most intimate parts of your body, the places that were now shamelessly exposed to him.

- My sweet girl... - You hear him kneel behind you, and before you can say anything, the prince's hands are replaced by his tongue.

You cover your mouth with your hand, hoping that the guards outside don't hear you. A warm tongue slides along the wet entrance and flicks the plump and needy clitoris. Aemond's hands spread your buttocks further, forcing your legs wider and penetrates you with his tongue.

The prince's handsome nose rests against your pearl and each of his movements gives off a pleasant tremor in your body. The peak grows quickly and you can't hold back a groan of disappointment when Aemond's mouth leaves you.

Two long fingers replace the prince's tongue and he immediately picks up a fast and rough pace, enjoying your sobs and the quiet squelching of your cunt.

- Aemond, please... - You barely get used to the stretching, when the blond prince deprives you of this pleasure. - My king, please!

You can't hold back a scream, because Aemond fills you with a sweeping movement, and, without giving you a second, begins to move.

You hit the table, your hands slide on the cold tabletop, and the tight corset prevents you from breathing normally, but all this seems insignificant at the moment when the prince regent's cock touches that very place inside you again and again.

- Don't stop! - You breathe heavily, lowering your hot cheek onto the cold table. Your hips rise and Aemond penetrates deeper, hoarsely moaning behind your back.

- You like it, right? To be my dirty little whore... - Your pussy clenches even tighter at the words, the way he talks to you lecherously with his perfect voice stirring something dark inside you. - What would your father say about you?

- Don't you dare. - You slap the prince's hands that are clutching your waist. - Now is not the time!

- I'm fucking Larys Strong's daughter in the Small Council chamber after I failed to appoint him Hand. - Aemond slows down slightly. - Now seems like the time.

You push yourself down on him, pushing your hips back. The tension in your body is unbearable and you feel your pussy tremble and suck on the Targaryen's cock harder.

Aemond continues to whisper something, but you can’t focus, overwhelmed by the orgasm that crashed over you like a tsunami.

You gasp for air, all the muscles in your body relax and you scream from the intense stimulation, because Aemond is not done with you yet.

Holding you with one hand, he finds your clit with the other and continues to caress you, chasing his release. It didn’t take him long, so tightly you squeezed him with your hot and tender walls.

- Fuck! - Targaryen leaves your body and spills onto your thighs, red from his grip.

The prince never cum inside, not wanting to burden you both with unwanted children. You took moon tea, but you appreciated this caution in your lover’s behavior.

- I hope we will not return to this conversation anymore. - Aemond kisses your nape and inhales the scent of your long hair.

- I suppose so. - You lean against the man's broad chest. - Is this from your bride?

There was a scroll on the table with the seal of House Baratheon. You knew that Aemond was bound by duty and his flight to Storm's End was no fun, but it was one thing to know about it, and quite another to welcome a daughter of House Baratheon here in the castle.

- Do we have to discuss this now? - Aemond dresses and carefully adjusts your dress.

- Will your future wife not mind that you have me? - You couldn't bring yourself to say "mistress."

- Frankly, I don't care. - Aemond's grip regains its former strength. - If you wish to discuss this matter, I think we will be more comfortable in my chambers.

You may not have been able to improve your father's position, but you seem to have found a cozy place for yourself.

[neiptune]

i got nothing to believe unless you're choosing me

cw: 2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, hurt no comfort (ish), something is wrong and tobio can't quite put his finger on it, excuse the angst i promise i like him

Kageyama Tobio has never been particularly skilled at picking up on social cues but he’s certainly learned how to read your cues. It doesn’t mean he knows how to properly voice his concerns.

Your shoulders are tense when he describes how the training is going in agonizingly specific detail over dinner, the inflection clothing your good morning and have a good day hasn’t been particularly warm or affectionate lately, even when his body felt heavy from muscle fatigue, as if he was trying to move through mud, but he still suggested a comfortable movie night on the couch, you refused and went to bed early because you were tired. What could be possibly tiring you?

Tobio doesn’t mean to be an asshole but knows he can easily come off as one, so he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t get annoyed when you anticipate his usual goodbye kisses by briefly pressing your lips to his cheek, doesn’t investigate further when you start suspiciously timing your morning showers just perfectly to miss the exact moment he usually heads out. You still make him breakfast and pack his lunch and reply to his texts and pick up when he calls.

But you barely touch him anymore and it’s with a heavy heart that Tobio realizes that it’s almost never him that initiates physical contact anyway. It’s easy to melt in your hands and nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck and tighten his arms around your frame once you climb on top of him or gently cradle his face or start running your fingers through his hair.

You ask questions and reply when he asks about your day, friends, family, but you don’t smile as often and when you do it doesn’t even reach your eyes. He doesn’t remember the last time he heard your laugh.

There’s a weird feeling infiltrating his heart and it sucks that Tobio only realizes something is wrong when focusing becomes increasingly hard. He doesn’t see the ball or the court just as clearly, can’t think of how to run his team’s offense, suddenly forgets all the Italian vocabulary he’s worked so hard to master.

There’s an odd emotion that clutches his chest, it’s cold and it scares him because he knows that, whatever it may be, it’s his fault. Somehow, he has disappointed you. You, of all people. The person who moved across the freaking globe to support his career, who accepted to leave family and friends and life behind out of nothing but love. Fuck. What did he do? How did he do it?

Tobio wants to ask but he doesn’t know how. And suddenly his world seems on the edge of shattering, so much that he thinks leaving you alone and giving you time to figure it out on your own isn’t exactly proving to be a successful strategy. You’re drifting away and Tobio isn’t sure you aren’t already where he cannot reach you.

The apartment you share is significantly close to the gym and it came fully furnished. Yet you insisted on adding some little personal touches, dragging him to ikea over the weekend and asking him opinions on napkins, bath mats, duvet covers, dish towels. You’ve never been one of those people who ask for someone else’s thoughts only to follow your own taste in the end and that is why he actually felt invested enough to pick things he actually liked, albeit hesitating, hyper aware of just how differently you would’ve picked. But you never once faltered as he pointed towards the less exciting, not really colorful options.

“You’re back early” is the soft greeting Tobio gets as he takes his shoes off, leaves the gym bag by the door because he knows if he’s a second too late the courage will melt away and leave him a sweaty, timid, confused coward.

“I’m not very hungry but we have some leftovers you can heat up” your eyes have only shortly darted to him before settling on the show you’re watching on tv once more.

“I was hoping we could talk” he feels a weird lump in his throat and suddenly swallowing seems hard. Is his voice coming out weird too? It feels weird. Like he’s watching the whole scene from the outside, you turning to look at him as he mechanically makes his way to the couch, sits reasonably afar from you.

You look at him with what feels a weird mix of apprehension and distress. Are you anticipating the topic? Would you have preferred to be the one to bring this all up? But just how much longer did you want him to wait, exactly?

The tv is turned off.

“Yeah. Yes, we should talk”

Tobio recalls feeling nervous a couple of times in his life, maybe the worst anxiety he’s ever felt was the one creeping onto him the night before the 2021 Tokyo olympics. But this? This feels so much worse. It’s dreadful. There’s no outcome he can predict, only one he can pray against.

“Something is wrong and I want to know what it is” he knows he’s picked the wrong words, the wrong tone, from the sigh you heave. “I mean, I feel that something isn’t right. Please tell me how to fix it” and then, much more quietly, “I miss you”.

Your eyes soften at that but, much to his horror, also fill with fresh tears.

He’s made you cry before. Out of anger, frustration, petty arguments, sharp edged comebacks. But right in this moment Tobio feels you’re about to tell him there’s nothing to fix anymore, that it’s too late. Those are the kind of tears he’s never made you shed.

“What did I do?” his uniform sticks uncomfortably to his sweaty back, he didn’t shower in order to get home as fast as he could.

“You didn’t do anything, Tobio”

Well, that’s not exactly the truth, but he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Nothing you haven’t been used to throughout the years spent together.

“Please. I really want to understand” it scares me he wants to add.

“This is nothing I can hold you accountable for. It’s always been like this, after all”

“What has always been like this?”

“My place in your life” you smile sadly with a slight shrug of the shoulders “I always come second. It’s fine, I know I do, really. I guess it has just been weighing extra heavy lately”

Tobio blinks once, twice, genuinely surprised and even more confused. “I love you” he articulates slowly, as if to express what should be the most obvious thing on earth “the only person I love as much as you is my sister. But it’s different, she’s family”

“I would never expect you to love me more than it” you carry on as if he never interrupted “volleyball was there first, I get it. Please know I actually get it. But it’s just… not always easy”

Tobio gets that feeling he sometimes gets when trying to fall asleep, the oh-no-I’m-plummeting-from-a-fucking-skyscraper one. His body jerks the same way, an involuntary contraction to the last words he was expecting to hear. “I don’t understand” because volleyball is different too. It’s a comparison his brain can’t process the right way. You’re the person he’s in love with, volleyball is the one thing he has dedicated his entire life to. He doesn’t dare put you both on a scale.

“I know you don’t” you reply softly, cheeks now stained with tears that put a knife through his heart “and maybe it’s on me because what else did I expect?”

“I love you” Tobio scoots closer now, takes your hands in his “I will be better at proving you how much I love you” it sounds desperate and pathetic even to him as you shake your head.

“And I love you, Tobio. But you’re just… never here. You’re either training or staying for extra trainings or on the road or playing, always playing. You forgot my birthday, which is no big deal because I know how tired you were and it’s not like it hasn’t happened before. But then you forgot our anniversary. You forget the promises you make. You don’t come home for dinner or meet me at the restaurant or pick up the groceries. You can barely keep your eyes open while I tell you about my day” he watches you choke up on your words and it’s like someone is toppling a bucket of iced water over his head. So he was right. It is his fault. But he did worse than disappointing you, he hurt you.

“I just think… I need to go home for a while. I miss my family, I miss my friends. And, well…”

“I promised we’d travel home for our anniversary” he murmurs, realization hurting his chest and twisting his insides. He tightens his hold over your hands.

“Yeah” you offer another grim smile “yeah, you did”

Tobio has no idea how to fix any of this. He just knows he might lose you forever if you step on that plane without him and the thought alone is enough to make his eyes fill with tears too. “Don’t go. Please, I’ll make arrangements, take some time off, and we can go together. I promise-” he shuts his eyes the second the word leaves his mouth, disgusted. This is what he has sounded like for the past months. He feels sick.

“I have my ticket ready. I need to go alone, I think it will do me good” your thumb travels over his uncharacteristically chapped knuckles “I might even surprise Suga at his school”

But all Tobio hears is that you’re leaving. Without him. “Don’t do this. I need you” he flinches when you free one of your hands to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t think that’s true, Tobio. I think you have one priority in your life and that it’s unfair to ask everyone else to be okay with being eternal seconds”

“I don’t love it more than I love you” he bites “it’s a fucking stupid comparison. It’s a sport and you’re a person”

“Would you stop playing if I asked you to?”

He stays silent, petrified. That question also feels unfair and so unlike you. “You would never do such thing”

You chuckle but there’s no actual humor in your laugh. It’s empty and so exhausted. “You’re right, I’d never. But that still isn’t the answer I would’ve hoped to get”

“So what, if I don’t give up on my entire life it means I don’t love you enough? Is this the yardstick by which you’ll decide if you’ll break up with me or not?” he hopes he seems angry because he’s desperate more than anything else. He feels inadeguate and, for the first time, wrong for you. Like you’re a perfect match but a one-sided one. Could he ever be a match for anyone, honestly?

“But I did give up on my entire life, didn’t I?” you lean forward, press your forehead to his shoulder because looking into his pained eyes is torture “for something that now feels like the shell of what we once had. You say you miss me but I’ve been missing you for far longer, Tobio”

He aches for the way your body shakes as you try to muffle your sobs, his arms around you don’t feel nearly enough. Tobio wishes he could rip his chest cavity open and tuck you inside, right next to what’s sure is a bruised heart. Maybe then you’d believe how deeply sorry he is. Maybe then you’d feel loved once more, you’d be safe from his selfishness.

“Don’t leave me” Tobio whispers it into your neck, lips grazing your skin. He wants to be better, knows he can be better. “I wouldn’t be who I am without you”

“I don’t want to stay and end up hating this, or you. I want to shield the love I have for you and I can’t do that if I stay here. It's like I'm... fading” your voice isn’t but a murmur “you understand, right, Tobio?”

He shuts his eyes, time and space and his house and the room you’re both in cease to exist. He doesn't. But he thinks the least he can offer, at this point, is understanding.

“Yes. I do”

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

🤡 Silly & Embarrassing William Afton Headcanons 🤡

(A mix of work-life chaos at Freddy’s, moments of pure foolishness, and things he’d rather die than admit.)

He’s overly theatrical, stubbornly refuses to admit mistakes, and gets himself into ridiculous situations constantly. Most of these moments are immediately buried and never spoken of again—except by Henry, who will never forget.

💀 1. THE TIME HE ALMOST GOT HIS HEAD STUCK IN A SPRINGLOCK SUIT (BUT HENRY SAVED HIM)

He was showing off—being all theatrical about how "perfectly safe" the springlock mechanism was.

Decided to demonstrate it himself to some employees.

Didn’t secure something properly and suddenly felt the suit start to shift.

Panic set in immediately. You know how smug he is? It was gone. He went stiff as a board.

Henry, who was just sipping his coffee, looked up, sighed, and had to calmly walk over and fix the latch before William died in the stupidest way possible.

William, sweating bullets, just brushed it off with a “See? No problem whatsoever.”

The employees were not convinced.

🎤 2. HE CHALLENGED A KID TO A SINGING COMPETITION—AND LOST HORRIBLY

One of the kids at Freddy’s kept mocking his accent and saying he sounded "like an old-timey vampire."

William, offended beyond belief, decided to challenge them to a sing-off.

He cannot sing. Like, at all.

This was a mistake.

The kid destroyed him with a performance of some cheesy 80s song.

He literally just walked off mid-song to pretend it never happened.

🛠️ 3. HE SPENT THREE HOURS TRYING TO FIX A MACHINE, ONLY FOR HENRY TO SOLVE IT IN 10 SECONDS

One time, the prize counter’s ticket dispenser broke.

William, too stubborn to call Henry, decided he would fix it himself.

Three hours later, covered in grease and seething, he still hadn’t figured it out.

Henry walks in, presses a single button, and the machine starts working again.

William stood there in silence.

Henry just patted his shoulder and walked away.

🐰 4. HE TRIED TO WEAR THE SPRINGBONNIE SUIT TO “SCARE” HENRY—BUT HE TRIPPED AND FELL IN IT

Thought it would be hilarious to sneak up behind Henry in the Springbonnie suit and make him jump.

Miscalculated his step and completely wiped out.

Full-body faceplant.

Got stuck in the suit. Henry had to pull him out.

“Not a word of this leaves the room.”

Henry was laughing too hard to respond.

💀 5. HE ONCE MISTOOK A RANDOM EMPLOYEE FOR HENRY AND WENT ON A RANT FOR TEN MINUTES

Stormed into the office, not even looking up, and started going off.

“Henry, I swear, if you installed one more bloody safety protocol, I’m going to—”

Looked up.

Not Henry. Just some poor new employee.

The guy was terrified.

William just cleared his throat, turned around, and walked out.

Never spoke of it again.

🍕 6. HE HAS HORRIBLE LUCK WITH THE PIZZA OVEN—ALMOST SET THE PLACE ON FIRE

Refuses to admit he can’t cook.

Decided to “help out” in the kitchen.

Turned the oven up to max temperature because “it’ll cook faster.”

It did not. It caught fire.

Henry had to come running in with a fire extinguisher.

William just stood there, hands on his hips, looking at the disaster like it wasn’t his fault.

“Perhaps the oven is simply poorly designed.”

🎭 7. HE TRIED TO BE “MYSTERIOUS” AND FELL OFF A CHAIR INSTEAD

Thought it would be dramatic and cool to lean back in a chair while talking.

Overdid it. Chair slipped. Full backflip onto the floor.

Lay there in silence for a minute, contemplating every decision in his life.

Henry just watched. No reaction. Just sipped his coffee.

📣 8. BONUS: THINGS HE’D RATHER DIE THAN ADMIT

He once got a Freddy mask stuck on his head. Had to have an employee pull it off.

He accidentally called Henry “darling” once. Henry never let him live it down.

A kid once beat him at chess in five moves. He was furious.

He walked into a glass door once because he was distracted talking. Pretended like it never happened.

He secretly finds some of the animatronic jingles catchy but refuses to admit it.

He tried to moonwalk once. It didn’t go well.

He once dropped an animatronic endoskeleton on his foot. Spent the whole day limping but refused to acknowledge it.

He has mistaken an animatronic for a person at least once and said “Excuse me” before realizing.

💀 When William Tries (And Fails) to Impress You 💀

(A collection of moments where he attempts to be charming, impressive, or dignified around you… and completely fails.)

🎩 1. THE TIME HE TRIED TO BE SMOOTH AND WALKED INTO A DOOR

William loves making grand entrances.

He was mid-sentence, giving you one of his classic smug little monologues, when—

BAM. Right into the glass door.

He froze.

You stared.

Henry, in the distance, choked on his coffee.

William just slowly turned back to you, completely deadpan.

"…As I was saying."

🍷 2. HE TRIED TO DO THE "COOL WINE SWIRL"—AND SPILLED IT ALL OVER HIMSELF

Took you out to some fancy restaurant, all dressed up, acting like the most refined gentleman alive.

Picked up his wine glass, swirled it dramatically—

And immediately flung red wine all over his own white dress shirt.

Just sat there for a second, blinking.

"…Well. This is an unfortunate turn of events."

You were dying trying not to laugh.

💡 3. HE TRIED TO FIX SOMETHING IN FRONT OF YOU—AND MADE IT WORSE

The lights at Freddy’s flickered weirdly, so he decided to show off his “engineering skills.”

Got up on a chair, started fiddling with wires.

"No need to call a professional, dear, I know exactly what I’m—"

Sparks. Smoke. Entire building loses power.

Silence.

You: "…So should I call Henry now?"

William: "Don’t you dare."

🕶️ 4. HE TRIED TO WINK AT YOU—BUT DID IT SO BADLY IT LOOKED LIKE A TWITCH

This man thinks he’s in some 1950s noir film.

Tried to give you a slow, charming wink.

Failed miserably. One eye shut too hard, and the other didn’t close at all.

You thought he was having a stroke.

"…Are you okay???"

He immediately changed the subject.

🐰 5. HE TRIED TO GIVE YOU A "PET NAME"—BUT IT CAME OUT ALL WRONG

He’s not the type to say cute things easily, so he was testing something out.

"Come here, my little… honey… muffin… sugar…"

He paused. Realized what he just said.

"Forget that just happened."

You immediately latched onto it and started calling him “Muffin” just to torture him.

🎭 6. HE TRIED TO SHOW OFF HIS "ACTING SKILLS"—AND OVERDID IT

Thought it would be romantic to recite poetry to you.

But instead of a charming, smooth delivery, he went full Shakespearean actor mode.

Overly dramatic hand gestures, deep booming voice, the works.

Half the restaurant turned to look.

You were equal parts flattered and horrified.

Henry just sighed from across the room.

🔥 7. HE TRIED TO COOK FOR YOU—AND IT WAS A DISASTER

He wanted to do something “nice” for you.

Decided to cook dinner.

Overestimated his skills.

Pan caught fire.

You walked in on him standing in complete silence, staring at the flames.

"…I can explain."

You took the fire extinguisher.

🔪 8. HE TRIED TO CARVE SOMETHING NICE FOR YOU—AND ALMOST CUT HIS HAND OFF

He has a habit of carving things from wood (because knives = ✨ dramatic ✨).

Thought he’d make something for you—a little rabbit figurine or something.

Misjudged the knife angle.

Almost took off his own fingers.

You: "You good??"

William: "Absolutely. No issues whatsoever. This is fine." (While holding back blood.)

[karasukarei]

Wind Breaker DVD/BR Vol. 6 bonus content – Boufuurin Vs Shishitoren Maruhi ㊙ Talk and Battle - Part 1

This is the translation of the vol. 6 bonus with the DVD/Bluray! I did not buy it for the bonus. I did buy it because Umemiya is featured on the cover. I have my priorities right.

There's 3 (4?) main parts to this - (1) Boufuurin x Shishitoren talk, (2) Hiiragi x Sako talk + (3) battle, (4) Boufuurin x Shishitoren battle. The battles are kinda hard to understand without the video, so I'll leave that aside for now and focus on just the talks.

As these are more like talk shows, there's quite a few areas where multiple people are talking over each other; in such instances, I will be omitting some of the stuff being said if it's repetitions or if they do not add on to the main stuff being spoken.

Important: A lot of what NakaYuu says will seem very cold/ indifferent on paper, and unfortunately this is one of those things that get lost in translation. In context, he's actually playing the deadpan fool like his pal Sugitan.

For the rest of my translations, see this post!

Boufuurin x Shishitoren talk

Sakura (CV: Uchida Yuuma - Yuuma)

Umemiya (CV: Nakamura Yuuichi - NakaYuu)

Choji (CV: Totani Toya Kikunosuke - Toya) (t/n: there's this running gag that has an origin I'm unaware of, apparently some people read his name wrongly and called him Totani instead and I admit that for the longest time I really thought it was read as Totani. The 谷 in 戸谷 can be read as either "ya" or "tani", and both are pretty common readings, hence the confusion)

(if anyone wants to hear me ramble about multiple readings for names please DM me I will be so happy to go on this long shpiel about meeting 3 people with 3 different readings of the same character before)

Togame (CV: Umehara Yuuichirou - Umechan) (t/n: yes I'm here to confuse the heck out of you)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuuma: Hello everyone! I'm the voice actor of Sakura Haruka for the television anime Wind Breaker, Uchida Yuuma!

NakaYuu: Umemiya Hajime's Nakamura Yuuichi! (t/n: he was drawling a lot here wwww)

Toya: Tomiyama Choji's Toya Kikunosuke! (t/n: he is really so cute I want to protecc) (I also cannot emphasise enough just how talented he is; he sounds NOTHING like Choji irl)

Umechan: Togame Jo's Umehara Yuuichiro, thanks for having me.

Everyone: Thanks for having us! (t/n: it's the usual yoroshiku onegaishimasu greeting and I can never figure out how to properly translate it)

Yuuma: Speaking of, to everyone who bought the anime package (i.e. the DVD or blu-ray), will be receiving this special bonus, ehhh. ~It's Wind Breaker~ (comes with sparkles too) everyone.

NakaYuu: That's right.

(everyone chuckles)

Toya: We've even worn these jackets!

NakaYuu: Why are you doing it? (t/n: LMAO)

*everyone laughs*

Umechan: On the other hand, *points at Yuuma and NakaYuu* you're here like this?

Toya: It feels different there. (t/n: this is not an entirely accurate translation, but i'm pretty tired today and don't feel like explaining now. What he said was 気合違いますよ which has a bit more nuance; I'll explain in an edit next time.)

Yuuma: This is my regular...

Umechan: Gakuran? (t/n: this is the style of school uniforms worn by Boufuurin)

NakaYuu: It's not that. *very seriously*

Toya: Yuuma-san's clothes actually of give off a bit of the feel of gakurans...

Yuuma: It's not a gakuran ^_^

***

Yuuma: With that, the four of us from Wind Breaker, Shishitouren and Boufuurin will have a talk with each other.

Everyone (i think): Yes!

Yuuma: It's been a while since we've recorded our lines, and I think there'll be lots of memories we'll be reminiscing upon, but in Wind Breaker, there's often talk of speaking with our fists; Nakamura-san and I first joined from the PV, it's been a while, hasn't it? (t/n: They're referring to a special video they recorded for an event in Shibuya in 2021)

NakaYuu: It's a while back, isn't it?

Yuuma: Around 2021, yes.

NakaYuu: About two years before the anime, I think.

Umechan: It's from before the anime?

NakaYuu: Yes yes yes, when you get to our level it's like that. (t/n: this is absolutely dripping in sarcasm fyi; NakaYuu can only get away with a joke like this cos he's the oldest here) You start getting involved even before the anime is announced.

Yuuma: As for the two of you (Shishitoren), you guys auditioned?

Umechan: Yes...

Toya: We auditioned and received our roles.

Yuuma: You two make a great combo, how was it like performing together?

Umechan: It's my first time working with Toya-kun.

Toya: Yes it is.

Umechan: It was really refreshing. The other cast members, I've met them quite often at other places, so I sort of know how things will turn out with them. It's only Toya-kun I don't know anything about.

Toya: For me, it's my first time meeting most of the cast members, I remember that during the first recording I was really really nervous.

Umechan: I didn't know how it would turn out, but he was very Tomiyama-ish.

Yuuma: That's the matching being done (t/n: this might be a mistranslation; he literally uses "matching" in katakana, I'm not sure if there's an alternative meaning I'm missing out.)

NakaYuu: There's difficulty in reading him. (i.e. in reading his character)

***

Yuuma: Next is the visual commentary part, where we watch the anime while giving comments on it. First up, is this match!

T/N: I'm going to skip some parts and summarise some parts, as it's going to be pretty much impossible to match the dialogue and scene one on one without video

Sakura vs Togame

When Umechan first recorded for Togame, he spoke so slowly he was surprised, and in the end that take was used for the anime. It got easier to speak slowly as he practiced more, but at first he had to make a conscious effort to go slow.

Togame's script also had a lot of markings at the end of words (e.g. dashes), to indicate that the words should be drawn out / spoken slowly.

While filming the fight scenes, they thought quite a lot about what to ad lib and how to draw breaths in between lines. They were told it wasn't necessary to do it for everything, but on the day of recording they decided that they did want to include the ad libs and breaths for the whole thing.

NakaYuu, at the point when Sakura is kicked by Togame with his geta on: Getting kicked by the geta looks bad. (t/n: NO SHIT SHERLOCK)

Umechan: I would've preferred him to wear sneakers, it can absorb the impact a bit.

Yuuma: The geta is really hard.

NakaYuu: Of course it is.

NakaYuu, at the point when Sakura's head is stomped on by Togame with his Geta: That looks bad.

Yuuma: He's a real beast!

Umechan: Everyone, this is fiction.

Yuuma: Please don't try the same thing at home.

Umechan, at the point when Togame took off his geta: If he hadn't taken off his geta, I think he would have won. (t/n: LMAO)

NakaYuu: This is a power down event.

Umechan: His reach is now one geta shorter.

NakaYuui: His reach and power have both dropped. But his grip is stronger now

Umechan: It would've been fine if he hadn't taken it off.

NakaYuu: It's probably cos it feels strange using a weapon when he wants to fight fair and square.

t/n: WHY ARE THEY FEEDING INTO EACH OTHER'S CHAOS

Everyone in turn, when Sakura and Togame kicked each other in the face: The geta. the geta!

Yuuma: It's a good thing he's not wearing the geta.

NakaYuu: If he was wearing the geta he would've won.

Yuuma: Togame is a really great guy, fighting for Choji's sake. Thanks for the great battle! Next is this battle!

TO BE CONTINUED

[only-omo]

i know this has been said before but can we really go in depth on this

characters who are so incredibly skilled at pretending they dont have to pee that no one has any idea until they are suddenly wetting

characters who are actually almost painfully perceptive, but even they are shocked into silence as their friend just randomly starts peeing like its cool

and of course its only sudden to everyone else, poor victim themself has actually spent the past hour at least, if not more, doing everything they can to not flood themselves on the spot, but not anything that could give them away even slightly, so the desperation felt would be crazy extreme

they would probably start slowly leaking at some point, as they arent doing anything (except for mostly futile muscle clenching) physical to help them hold at all, and at that point theyll probably switch from trying to properly hold it, to just trying to be discreet about it. trying to hide any growing wet spots, trying not to go despondent and stay engaged so that people dont catch on, literally holding conversations as urine slowly runs down their legs and not really doing anything to stop it, but just trying to keep it slow and quiet, and above anything else, keep any clues of whats happening out of their expression and body language.

maybe they manage to be discreet the whole time, and no one ever even finds out what happened right in front of them.

or they manage to wet discreetly, but completely throw everyone off at a slightly later point, when someone suddenly notices their soaked pants, and cannot recall the last time any of them interacted with any liquids that could have potentially spilled, so they inquire. and now the victim can either come up with some poor excuse that maybe people probably dont believe, or they just come clean, rather sheepishly despite their nonchalant demeanor about it, that they did, in fact, piss themself, and it was actually a few minutes ago that it even happened

or they manage to kinda hold on despite leaking, enough to stretch their bladder to its proper limit, leading them to have a very noticeable, rather loud accident. maybe for some reason everyones attention was already on them, for something simple, like being asked if they want to order a drink or stuff like that, but they can no longer keep up the act, starting with just a long nervous pause, no one else able to figure out why the question asked poses such a conundrum to them.

after a long-ish moment, the victim would mutter out something, maybe an apology, maybe just weak noises of defeat, as the floodgates finally break, and they start wetting forcefully and messily.

theres something about more public wettings, especially if not even slightly anticipated, that is just the most thrilling. it can get to be so humiliating that it makes even me, as an omo enthusiast, cringe with embarrassment. but its the fact that, no matter how much anybody cringes, there is nothing that that person can do to stop what is happening. it is their reality and they have to deal with it as it is, even when its so humiliating it feels stupid

and you know that this kind of accident would be at the peak of max embarrassment, it doesnt matter if the people around them are understanding or mocking or what, the sudden attention on the one thing theyd been trying to avoid will send their brain over the edge of functioning, and the best they can do is just hide their face and wait for someone else to do something