#would love to plot with you all so bad but i just unfortunately am not at the emotional capacity for ooc chats Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[deoidesign]

Can you make a tutorial on how you world build and make ocs? I can't seem to make any people in my brain, but then when I try to come up with environments jobs, beliefs and little details to slowly come up with someone, I think: well I don't really know how people have influenced the world- it's a weird loop

To be honest, I don't think I can! Writing is an extremely personal process. The way I write is directly related to how I process things, what I find important in stories, years of my own analysis of my and other's writing, etc... The way you write will be unique to you, as well. But I can explain how I personally think of it.

The short answer:

Write. Write anything and everything, it's a tool to explore your ideas. Analyze your own writing, and write more. Then, as you discover which ideas you want to develop, write more to explore them more. You won't know what you want otherwise!

The long answer:

I think this kind of loop is common. It's easy to feel like everything needs to be done "at once," because our job as writers is to make elements logically fit with each other for our readers. But as you've discovered, developing multiple elements simultaneously isn't really possible, or at least is extremely difficult.

Personally, when I think of writing, I break it into three major elements; characters, world, and plot. As much as possible every scene explores one or more of these, and as much as possible these three things tie back into what I personally consider most important: theme.

Everything I do is in service of the themes I want to present. Without them my events feel aimless. It can take a while to discover them, but they're the core of my work. You will have to discover what you feel is the core of yours. Analyzing other media helps with this too.

Concepts in your brain exist in a state of infinite potential. But when you start writing you have to start making choices, which removes potential as you move forward... But you have to move forward anyways. If there's ideas you want to explore later, you can always explore them later.

What this ends up meaning, to answer your question, is that I don't think of my characters as "people in my brain" or my worlds as something people have influenced... Not at their core, at least. They are tools that I use to represent specific ideas. Obviously they're also my blorbos, but mostly they're serving a specific narrative purpose.

So above all else... Write. Write, and discover what you're writing about, and then start over and write with that in mind. Keep doing this. But you have to write!

[bledthrus]

got two more batches of icons done tonight ! only have 10 more muses left in total left to re - icon, but i think tomorrow i'll focus on redoing marcus's icons and then make icons for aristeia since my muse is quite high for her atm, and then i'll FINALLY start writing. ill most likely chip away on other icons during the weekend as i just wanted to focus on redoing icons for who i have the highest muse for atm to start with so i can actually write omg. but for now its my bedtime, i had a very emotionally exhausting day and need sleep BAD. goodnight everyone <3

[kxsagi]

Salutationsss, hiii, I'm the same anon that sent a request, something abt a nerd readerr, I'm sorry for requesting when you weren't taking at the time! I didn't see 😔. But could I req that same trope again?? Thank so much you for your time!

“𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 🤓☝️”

a/n: hiii you’re all good, but unfortunately i don’t have that request anymore so i’m not sure what specifically you requested

bc of that, i turned this into headcanons and i hope you don’t mind! 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, bachira meguru

isagi yoichi

yoichi thought he was smart until he started dating you. like sure, he knows tactics, he’s got game IQ, but you? you’re out here solving riddles on a whiteboard like it’s nothing. 

he once asked if you wanted to watch a documentary with him and you said “only if it’s narrated by joe dispenza or has a plot twist at the 30-minute mark.” 

he genuinely thinks you have a superpower. how else do you know this much random stuff? 

"you know how many stars are in the milky way galaxy?" you ask. "no," he says. "good. neither do scientists. but i will ruin your sleep schedule by explaining dark matter." 

yoichi gets this glazed-over look when you go off, like he’s watching god speak through you. 

“bro, how do you know all this?” he whispers in awe as you explain entropy using a sandwich. 

he’s not even mad when you correct his grammar in front of people. in fact, he gets a little flustered. "did you just… teach me something in public? … hot. whatwhosaidthat." 

itoshi rin

rin fell for you after overhearing you quote dostoevsky and then immediately say “but also, the scooby-doo gang was gay-coded.” 

he will die before admitting how hot he finds your brain. like, he’ll glare at you when you start infodumping about the history of the guillotine, but that glare is just him trying not to fall for you. 

you send him 20-slide powerpoints at 3 AM about why light yagami was right, and he reads every single one. he’s unwell. 

once he saw you organizing your bookshelf by theme, subgenre, and emotional damage, and he just… stood there. watching. blinking. 

“you okay?” you ask. “… can i kiss you right now or is that, like, a breach of the fibonacci sequence or whatever.” 

he has an entire notes app folder full of weird phrases you say. once you said “i want to kiss you under the fluorescent lights of an abandoned lab” and he had to take a walk. 

god help anyone who tries to outsmart you because rin doesn’t even jump in to help. he just steps aside like, “yeah, go ahead. she’s got it.” 

itoshi sae

sae met you once and immediately started saying “shut up, nerd” in the most loving tone imaginable. 

like yeah he acts unbothered, but if you stop talking about your interests for five seconds he’s like “… why’d you stop?” 

you once brought a clipboard and a graph to explain how his sleep schedule is ruining his skin elasticity. he hasn’t eaten sugar since. 

he’s obsessed with how you argue. like, someone will say, “i didn’t really like that movie” and you’ll go, “well actually, the entire point of the cinematography was to mimic isolation, so your brain’s just too small for the themes.” 

and sae’s in the corner nodding proudly like “yeah. eat ‘em alive, baby.” 

he won’t ever admit it out loud, but if you ever stopped being smart? he would simply perish. 

also: he absolutely starts fights on twitter just to screenshot them and send them to you like “babe, look what this idiot said. go ruin him.” 

kaiser michael

oh he lives for this. the way you ramble about history and sprinkle in “violence”? he is down BAD. 

kaiser will interrupt you mid-rant just to be annoying. like you’re explaining molecular structures and he goes “explain it to me like i’m five… and make it sexy.” “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” “well then i am the powerhouse of this relationship.” “please stop talking.” 

if you cosplay? he is fully in character. fake accent. dramatic monologue. he once spent $200 on a fake sword just to match your anime aesthetic. 

calls you “my little google doc” or “professor schatz” in public and refuses to stop. 

he 100% cheats off your notes if you take a class together. 

also once used your obsession with linguistics as an excuse to kiss you mid-sentence: “wait wait, how do you pronounce lo–” smooch “oops. distracted you. guess i win.” 

you're the only person on earth that can out-argue him. and he loves it. even when you humiliate him in a debate club meeting in front of six people. especially then. 

mikage reo

rich. nerd. simp. this man once bought you a whiteboard wall so you could explain conspiracy theories and niche film symbolism uninterrupted. 

he funds your hobbies like it’s a government project. need 72 highlighters in pastel? boom. got ‘em. a limited edition sailor moon notebook with gold foil? already shipped. “i just need this for journaling, reo.” “you mean world domination. say less.” 

he loves pretending he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about just to hear you explain it like a teacher. 

he’ll sit there all wide-eyed like, “woah, tell me more about black holes.” 

you once built a 3D model of the solar system for fun. he walked in, saw saturn, and said, “hey babe. just like saturn, i’ll adorn you with the most beautiful rings in the universe.” 

he once got jealous because you were paying more attention to your manga than him. “you’ve been reading for three hours.” “i’m at the part where they confess their undying love, you can’t interrupt now–” “… i’ll confess my undying love right now if it gets me eye contact.” 

nagi seishiro

nagi doesn’t understand a single thing you’re talking about, but he loves the way you talk. 

you could be explaining the lifecycle of a parasite and he’d just go “cool... say that again but slower. it sounded pretty.” 

he gets very attached to your reading time. you’ll be curled up with a book and he’ll just drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and nap while you whisper lore. 

you tried to teach him a game strategy once using chess pieces and he got bored halfway through and started kissing your neck. “sei, focus.” “i am focused. on the smartest person i know.” 

he secretly loves it when you make schedules, take notes, organize everything – he feels calmer with your brain leading the way. 

you once said, “i’d choose you even in a logic simulation.” and he got so flustered he forgot how to hold his phone for five minutes. 

shidou ryusei

you are the one person on earth who intimidates him. not because you’re loud, but because you’re smart and savage. 

he’ll say something like “gravity’s a myth” and you’ll deadpan, “so is your personality.” 

he flirts with you just to hear what kind of insults you’ll hurl back. 

you’ll be like “actually, that’s a misinterpretation of the theory of relativity” and he’ll be like “wow. you wanna kiss me or correct me harder, nerdzilla?” 

he once called your bookshelf a “nerd shrine” and you kicked him out. he came back with snacks and a post-it that said “i’ll behave if you teach me about the holy trinity”. 

he thinks it’s hilarious when you use big words. starts repeating them wrong on purpose. “you’re being extremely cacophonous right now.” “aw, thanks. i try.” 

he says he doesn’t care about your trivia. but the next week, he quotes you during a fight with a ref. “well actually, statistically speaking, you’re 73% more likely to suck.” 

karasu tabito

karasu walked in on you doing sudoku while eating spicy ramen and watching a documentary and went, “yep. that’s my girl.” 

he teases you constantly but don’t let that fool you – he brags about you to everyone. “yeah, she solved a murder mystery in two minutes. sexy, right?” 

he once found your annotated copy of crime and punishment and was like “damn, she’s not just a menace, she’s an educated menace.” 

he makes fun of your color-coded calendar, but then uses it religiously. 

calls your bookbag your “bat-nerd utility belt.” 

you once said “i organize chaos with knowledge” and he choked on his water because how are you both terrifying and hot at the same time. 

he 100% made you a trivia quiz as a date activity and cried when you got a perfect score. 

“i can’t even spell aesthetic,” he sniffled. “but you… you're a weapon of intellect.” 

bachira meguru

bachira thinks your brain is the eighth wonder of the world. he stares at you when you talk like you’re casting a spell. 

he mimics you when you start nerding out. “so actually, the evolution of language–” 

“babe, are you possessed again? blink twice if you’re still in there.” 

he brings you weird niche books from secondhand stores and is like “i got this because it looks cursed. i knew you’d love it.” 

he once watched you do a sudoku puzzle and got jealous of the numbers. “why are you smiling at that box like that.” 

loves playing study music and drawing you while you read. your “reading face” is his favorite thing ever. 

he doesn’t get half the things you say but if someone else calls you a nerd? he’s biting ankles. no hesitation. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[backinmyphase]

For over three months. You have tried to kill the King of curses Sukuna for over three months.

Four months ago your father sold you to his palace. Sure, it hurt, but you didn't have time to be sad, you had to serve the King, had to live in the small room with the other servants. You had to start to be a good servant, because if you weren't it would mean your death.

And god, did you despise this man. This monster of a man.

You had always heard the gruesome tales of him, how he killed thousands of men, how he could slice kids with a blink of an eye, how he burned down villages just because. And the moment you saw him you knew they were all... True. Yeah, they were definitely true.

On your third day he had a meeting with some men from a nearby village. You had heard them talk about trying to make a contract with the king. How they were hoping to get treasures for some women of their village.

One hour later you were ordered to clean up the leftovers of their corpses.

Of course Sukuna didn't care what servant cleaned up what, he just ordered whoever for whatever. You were sure he didn't know who you were. Still he looked at you like an ant as you sat in that pile of blood cleaning.

You felt rage, rage you had never felt before.

The same evening you decided you wanted to kill the man. You wanted to bring him down, show him his own mortality, he had so obviously forgotten. You wished, you could say it was for a noble reason, but it really wasn't. It wasn't for his victims, for the men you had to clean up.

It was purely because of your pride. Because you couldn't stand the way you had to bow before him.

You spent two weeks drawing a map of the palace, noting the schedule of the king, when he held meetings, when he dined etc. But it wasn't always completely clear, since he loved to go out and most likely terrorize people.

But after all you gathered all the information you could in these two weeks. You used your low place and profile in the palace to plot the death of the King of Curses.

At night you went out on the west side of the palace, the guards there fall as after 2 am, to run into anyone, any warrior who could take advantage of your information. Of course you didn't yell out 'Who can kill the King of Curses for me?', you did value your life. But you did know in which valleys you would find some shady figures who couldn't wait to get the information that you had. The deal was simple.

Your information for the life of the king.

There was a rather shady figure you found. You could never forget his sinister smile as he heard your request, he was no one you liked. But that didn't matter in this business.

So when you returned to the castle you had no other choice but to wait. Wait for Sukuna to fall.

One day passed. Two days passed. Three days passed. Nothing happened.

You thought the assassin had probably gotten cold feet or maybe just dipped with your information. But no that wasn't the case. There was a bad feeling in your chest which just wouldn't leave.

Till the fourth day.

That day Uruame asked for your Name. And as you gave it to them they just told you to go see the Lord.

With shaky legs you made your way to his chambers. And as you stepped in, the big man seemed to look at you for the first time.

"You wished for my presence?" you bowed before him. Unfortunately you had to.

He didn't answer, but you could feel his lingering gaze on you. Could feel him smirk. "Interesting." He only mumbled. "You are way more calm than I expected."

He let you leave after that. On the same morning you had seen other servants clean up a corpse in the garden. A corpse of a man who seemed to have been tortured. A man familiar.

The same day Uraume moved you into a big room.

"Your own chambers." They just said and left.

That was your first attempt to kill him. That was over three months ago.

Since then you had tried various things to get Sukuna to choke, both hypothetically and literally. Hired many sorcerers, tried to sabotage his thron, heck you even tried to poison him. But that bastard lived every time.

And you weren't even pissed because you failed, oh no. You were pissed because he knew you were trying to kill him and he got a kick out of it.

He had made you in charge of bringing him his food as if to challenge you. Smirked at you every time he ate.

And after every single attempt something new spawned inside of your chambers. Jewelry, clothes, a bigger chamber, food. Nothing could surprise you anymore.

You were the only servant with their own chambers, the only one in the whole palace besides Uraume he called by their name.

For other three months you were trying to kill the King of curses Sukuna.

And for over three months he had finally gotten excitement in his palace.

[bitofanupsidedowner]

GA coming out with genius "st5 predictions"

will: *breathes*

mike: hey will! i know that you never explicitly told me, but i've been picking up on this vibe that you're in love with me, so i just wanted to pause the apocalypse and make sure you know i'm straight. super totally definitely straight. i mean, i know you know, since you never said anything and you spent so much time trying to get me to lie confess to your sister, but i'm just compelled to reiterate this fact to the audience non-suspiciously. this is necessary to because this show actually only exists to make bad stuff happen to you specifically and the plot is just a formality.

will: that's okay. thank you for accepting me as your friend anyway, that's literally the only thing i could possible hope to expect. literally. it would be insane to want anything except a lukewarm acceptance speech as i was cursed to have been born before the 2000s and therefore, i am rightfully doomed to a loveless existence. i can't wait until they finally invent other gay people so my arc can come full circle. in the meantime, please accept this award for being the number one ally in the world.

mike: i wasn't listening to all that, but actually i decided i hate you and i hated you the whole time. can you die now so me and el can live? thank you

will: sure thing :) that's what i'm here for!

mike: oh my god shut up. gay little freak boy. get out of here

will: sorry! right away!

[totally cool original sacrifice and it doesn't at all read like a gay teen committing suicide at all. it is, but we are choosing not to read it that way]

mike and el: wow. maybe the real stranger things was the homosexuals we met along the way. let's have three kids immediately

steve: did you guys hear i'm the mayor now?

nancy: that's hot. let's have six kids immediately.

steve: nice

jonathan: aw man : ( [dies also for some reason]

dustin: [record scratch] wait a minute... did you say you're the mayor?? that's crazy because I'M the mayor. (holds up official mayoral document)

steve: [record scratch x2] oh no! we're both the mayor!

[dustin and steve get a spinoff show where they're co-mayors of hawkins. this, of course, ends in tragedy. unavoidable, unfortunately.]

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘪. (𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦) 🍊

⤷ summary: saudi arabian and australian grands prix happen! y/n starts making vlogs for the races and it reveals more about her and a certain driver's feelings than she hoped, not that she notices. poor oscar's stuck in the middle of it all but he's trying his best!

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liked by f1, landonorris, and 55,007 others

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

mclaren saudi arabia, you were beautiful even if the results weren't! ready for what's to come

12,567 comments

user1 admin not using a single nice photo of the drivers 😭

user2 admin be honest is this your revenge era

mclaren well, yes!

user3 HELP MEEEE

user4 the way lando looks at her 😭

user5 this is a place of business

user6 oscar looks petrified 💀

mclaren dw guys we're still training him!

oscarpiastri wtf why would u say it like that, i'm not a dog

mclaren full-time team mascot, part time driver

user7 admin drop the insta your so pretty 😭😭

user8 no literally, content of her WHERE

mclaren ynusername 🤲🏼

user9 LETS FUCKING GO

user10 HER DISSING HER OWN TEAM 💀 THEY'RE GONNA FIRE YOU GIRL

mclaren they don't pay me to LIE

user11 CRAZYY

user12 LANDO IS NEVER GETTING A GOOD PIC EVER AGAIN 😭

mclaren what can i say, i am no mans peace 🥱

user13 icon

landonorris reporting you to hr

mclaren for what

landonorris idk harrassment or something

mclaren ok keyboard warrior, lets calm down 💀

user14 KEYBOARD WARRIOR HELEPSJSM

user15 i vote admin just takes over and we don't even get driver pictures

user16 real and true

user17 i fear we may have lost the plot

user18 thoughts on today's results

mclaren i'm trying to be positive in general but man

user19 LMAOOOOO

user20 ik the pr department is shaking in their boots after every post notif

mclaren probably! but unfortunately for everyone, i am going to keep doing whatever i want

user21 no more lando beef, mclaren admin?

mclaren i forget but i never forgive. i forgot why we were fighting but i stay hating bitches 🥱

landonorris literally WHAT DID I DO

mclaren IDK BUT IK U PISSED ME OFF 🫵

oscarpiastri diabolical photo choice

oscarpiastri i look like a little kid on picture day

mclaren so basically your everyday look

oscarpiastri yk what you are making this work environment very hostile

mclaren i can make it more hostile if you want 🤨

oscarpiastri nevermind!!!

maxfewtrell most flattering lando picture i've seen in years

mclaren that's saying something isn't it 🤩

user22 i went to haterville and they all knew you admin

mclaren they actually just elected me mayor there!!! 💪🏻

━━━━━━ ༻✩₊⋆☾⋆⁺✧༺ ━━━━━━

liked by bsfusername, landonorris, and 17,800 others

ynusername if my admin duties don't kill me, i promise my caffeine addiction will! (:

3,422 comments

user23 be honest, how many coffees have you had today

ynusername 3!

user24 oh that's not that bad

ynusername +5

user24 JESUS CHRSUT

bsfusername at this point i think meth would be healthier

ynusername honestly yeah

ynusername thanks for the suggestion!!

user25 nooo admin don't do meth ur so sexy aha

ynusername that just made me want to do meth more

landonorris so what i'm hearing is buying you an espresso machine would get me in your good graces 😇

user26 oh brother here he goes

ynusername you must be deaf then

landonorris 😔 2 espresso machines?

ynusername i don't want ur dirty espresso machines 🙄

oscarpiastri now what car is that 🫵

ynusername SHHHHH

oscarpiastri TRAITOR

bsf2username when your not busy being super sexy on a race track, can we go thrifting and get sweetgreen and overpriced coffee 🙏🏼🙏🏼

ynusername this could've been an email, get this out of my comments 💀

ynusername but yeah obviously

user27 admin vlogs when 😔

ynusername SOON!!! very very soon

user28 mother feeding us once again

ynusername brb, adding single mom who works two jobs, loves her kids, and never stops to my resume

danielricciardo coffee recipe where?

ynusername in your dms now ‼️

danielricciardo is this flirting

ynusername no if i was flirting i would've told you to ask me in person, i'm just being charitable

landonorris can i get the coffee recipe too then 🤲🏼

ynusername wdy want next, my mugs? keep on walking charity case

user29 CHARITY CASE IS CRAZYDFHAJ

user30 she's so effortlessly funny and mean i love her

user31 i feel like this is so unprofessional /:

ynusername babe professional where, you are on??? my personal?? account???

user32 maybe she's born with it, maybe it's the fact that she's consumed enough caffeine to tranquelize a horse

user33 oh please the horse would be dead

ynusername call an ambulance, BUT NOT FOR ME ‼️💪🏻🗣️

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ynusername posted to story!

(caption: melbourne vlog out now on youtube, go watch!!)

15,221 replies

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would you like to watch? yes or no

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"This thing better be working," could be heard slightly muffled in between vague shuffling sounds. After a second or two of incoherent noise, the camera footage finally came on. Y/N smiled at herself in the camera as the recording light blinked to life, and raised her hand victoriously. She grabbed the smile microphone in front of her and laughed, "It looks like everything is working. Thank God, I wouldn't have known how to fix it otherwise."

"Alright everybody, welcome to the first race weekend vlog hosted by me! Your favorite McLaren admin and social manager. It took me forever to figure out how I wanted to go about this, but now I think I settled on a format that will work," She explained as she walked around the small, clean kitchen that was within frame of the camera. She pulled a glass jar out of her cabinets and left it on the counter before pulling a jug of cold brew and a cartridge of milk out of her fridge.

"It is currently 7:30 A.M on March 29th, and I have a flight to Melbourne in 3 hours. I'm already packed and ready for this weekend, but I wanted to get an introduction filmed and I wanted to take a shower before I left." Y/N paused for a moment as she poured the coffee into her mason jar until she seemed satisfied and began to add some milk. "I am totally exhausted so this is probably cup one of like," she laughed, "I don't know seven probably. And this is a pretty big jar I won't lie."

"The race weekend doesn't technically start until Friday, so I'll be getting there a bit early, but I wanted to film some content before the race weekend gets really hectic, so McLaren is sending me a little bit earlier. I'm excited though! I love the heat, even if I live in London the antithesis of Australian weather," she taste-tested her coffee and hummed in delight.

"God I really never miss with this stuff," she said contently. "Anyway, it's a bit of an early start today, but I'll have plenty of time to sleep on the fight. I mean can you believe that London to Melbourne is a nearly 22 hours," she scoffed. "I vote that we start making all of the races in one place so I don't have to feel jet lag more painful than the force of 1,000 suns every other weekend. Not that I'm complaining," she chuckled awkwardly, "I love my job McLaren please don't fire me."

Abruptly an orange tabby cat came into the frame of the camera, causing Y/N to abruptly grab her glass jar in the hopes of avoiding a mess. She gasped, but laughed as the cat scampered off as quickly as it had come. She shook her head fondly.

"That, ladies and gentleman, was Cali! My cat. She's literally my baby, and I love her more than anything else on this earth. However, she does have an affinity for hitting things off of counters and breaking them. She also hates men and nearly all other animals, so she's basically the world's biggest hazard to society. She's a good girl, I love her." Y/N explained between sips of coffee as she stared wistfully past the the frame of the camera, where it could be assumed Cali had gone.

Abruptly an alarm went off and Y/N threw her head back with a groan.

"That means I have to get in the shower and get ready so I can leave on time," she said, before taking a few more sips of coffee. "I'm going to go do that, and the next time you'll hear my beautiful voice will be at the Melbourne Airport! Cue the travel montage!"

An assortment of clips follow. Y/N is seen dragging her luggage through Heathrow Airport. Y/N is seen ordering another coffee at the airport, finishing the coffee, and ordering another before her flight. Y/N is seen responding to emails from her airplane seat, editing video footage, and responding to instragram and twitter comments. Footage is shown outside the plane window of a cloudy, blue sky and a time lapse is shown as the sky grows beautiful shades of pink and red before becoming a starry-night sky. Y/N is seen cozy in a throw blanket and a travel pillow, presumably asleep with headphones on. Y/N is shown pulling her luggage through the airport once again, with a brand new coffee cup in hand. She smiles, taking a sip before she is seen settled down in a seat in the bustling airport.

"Twenty-two or so hours later and I have finally landed in Melbourne. I'm waiting for my Uber to get here so I can finally be taken to my hotel to drop my stuff off. I have a meeting with the McLaren drivers in two hours, but luckily I slept really well on the plane. I don't know how else I would be able to deal with Lando Norris. I'm going to finish this coffee in order to maximize my tolerance for the next few hours, but I suspect I'll be getting a new coffee before I reach that meeting. My addiction truly knows no bounds," she laughs, trying to ignore the people vaguely shown within frame that are staring at her speaking to a camera.

The camera cuts abruptly and the waiting screen from SpongeBob flashes on the screen, including the narrator's voice reading "2 hours later."

Y/N is shown once again in new clothes, a new coffee cup in hand, and luggage replaced by a small canvas bag. Her comfortable plane clothes have been swapped out for jean shorts and a plain white tank-top. Her hair is clipped back out of her face, and she is adorned with simple gold jewelry and light makeup.

Y/N smiles at the camera as she walks, bustling and talking heard around her, before whispering into the small microphone, "I have arrived at the McLaren garage. It is now time to meet with Lord Lando and workplace mascot Oscar Piastri," the titles slip off her tongue sarcastically and she doesn't bother suppressing an eye-roll.

In the next clip, Oscar and Lando are seen seated on either side of her as they sit in what seems like a board-room. Lando leans over and whispers something that the camera doesn't pick up and Oscar laughs while Y/N grimaces and reaches forward to readjust the camera. When the camera comes back on, Lando and Oscar are seated together on the left of Y/N as she faces on angle toward both them and the camera.

"Don't just sit there and look pretty, say hello to the camera boys," Y/N says and Oscar cackles at the disgruntled look on Lando's face.

"Is that your way of calling me pretty Y/N," Lando chokes out between laughs, and Y/N scoffs with an eye-roll.

"I was actually talking about Oscar, but whatever floats your little papaya boat Norris," Y/N deadpans and Oscar doubles over from the force of his laughter at the pout on Lando's face.

"That's not nice at all, I hope you know that. I think I am sitting here very prettily, thank you very much," Lando says, leaning into the girl next to him to speak into her microphone.

Y/N draws the microphone back, swatting him away, "Yes, yes quite prettily," Y/N mocks in a British accent.

Oscar, still trying to recover, joins in, "Pretty little Lando Norris," and Y/N laughs jovially, reaching across Lando as if the boy weren't there to high-five the Austrialian driver.

"Bullies, the lot of you," Lando mumbles and Y/N brushes off his comment without response before finally facing the camera.

"Anyway, welcome to the first McLaren race weekend vlog. I'm Y/N L/N, the best media manager in the whole god damn world, and this is Lando Norris, the biggest pain in my ass, and Oscar Piastri, the second biggest pain in my ass. How are you feeling about Melbourne boys?" Y/N questions, transitioning smoothly much to the British driver's chagrin.

"Feeling proud to be the second biggest pain in the ass and not the first. Probably the only time i've been glad to get second actually," Oscar comments and Y/N laughs as Lando shakes his head in disappointment.

"But in all seriousness it is good to be home, this is easily my favorite race of the year seeing as it's my home race and i'm looking forward to, hopefully, good results from our team," Oscar supplies and Y/N nods along to his words.

"Yes, Australia, we are in you and we are happy about it," both boys choked out a laugh at the manager's sexual innuendo and Oscar quickly covered his mouth with his hand so as not to react too much. "What about you Lando what are you feeling," Y/N questioned, leaning the small microphone to the boy.

"Feeling like that was a stupid joke. And also like I am going to be getting P1 this weekend. I can feel it in my bones."

"Leave my jokes alone Lando, you're not being paid to be a critic," she scoffed, "and if I recall, you said the same thing in Saudi Arabia not that long ago. What's changed now?"

Lando rolled his eyes, "What's changed is that we're in Australia now and I'm feeling much more confident."

"Well thank god for that," Y/N supplied unhelpfully as Oscar laughed.

"Now, what we really came here for, it's time to film a video for this channel, it's going to be a fan Q and A, I picked the questions. By the time this vlog is up, the QnA should've already been posted. So feel free to stop watching this and to go watch that or whatever," Y/N commented. "After that we're going to film a TikTok challenge," both and Lando and Oscar grimaced, but Y/N ignored their dismay at the idea of fiming yet another TikTok, so cue the montage! Filming time!" Y/N exclaimed and the screen transitioned to a new series of clips.

In the first clip Oscar and Lando were sitting in two chairs while Y/N sat across from them with a set of notecards.

"Lando, this question from user "ln4mania" asks, "Are you and admin actually friends? Or is the online beef real? The people demand answers!" Y/N reads off with a laugh.

"Do you hear that, the people demand answers Lando! Don't keep them waiting!" Oscar and Y/N laugh as Lando shakes his head and tucks his face into his hands.

"There is no beef, guys. Me and admin, or rather me and Y/N are just fine. We hadn't even actually met when that happened," Lando supplied between laughs. Y/N looked at the camera and rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, faux-disagreeing with the boy.

She ignored the simmering pit of disappointment in her stomach. She did in fact have a problem with entitled little Lando Norris who still gave her side-eyed looks and judgmental stares whenever he saw her. If that wasn't humiliating enough, Oscar had clearly noticed it too, which just gave Y/N the feeling that she wasn't being taken seriously at all now that Oscar understood Lando's lack of respect for Y/N. However that didn't matter in the current moment. All that mattered was making this video.

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar sitting at a table with bowls of water in front of them and towels strewn across a chair just within frame of the camera. Y/N stood behind them, hands rested in their hair as she reacted to the prompts being read by someone, an unnamed media intern, off-camera.

"Who is harder to make videos with?" The intern asked and Y/N huffed out a laugh as she let her hands fully grasp Lando's curls and push him into the water quickly. He sputtered, trying to blink the water out of his eyes as Y/N laughed at the wet-puppy dog look he was sporting.

Y/N tried to shake the ridiculous desire to let her hands run through the soft curls underneath her finger tips. Curse Lando and whatever stupidly good, rich-person hair routine he used that made him smell good and look good, and... whatever.

Lando, blinking water out of his eyes, was now undoubtedly certain that being damn-near waterboarded was worth it if it meant that Y/N would laugh like that again. He knew Oscar would harass him again later for being "down-bad" or something along those lines- as he had done every time he caught the man staring-, but as he caught a glimpse of Y/N's bright smile and shaking shoulders, he found he didn't really care.

The next clip showed Oscar, Lando, Y/N, and a laughing media intern as they all dried off- somehow all having become wet through the course of filming. Y/N dried herself off quickly, taking a sip of her newly refilled coffee, not seeing the way that only the camera and Oscar saw Lando stared at her until the driver was nudged back into focus on drying himself off.

A title-card once again came on the screen with white words on a photo collage of Australian grand-prix candids that Y/N had taken, reading "Race montage? More likely than you'd think."

Footage was shown of the free practice sessions. Oscar and Lando getting in and out of their cars. Engineers along the pit wall going over data. The team speaking incoherently, going over the game plan for Sunday's race. Oscar and Lando greeting fans, signing merch, and posing for photos. Y/N smiling and waving at a cheering crowd of people before staring at the camera incredulously with a small caption reading: "Omg she's famous your honor". More clips showed Lando laughing as Oscar tossed grapes and Lando moved to catch them with his mouth. Lando nearly choking as Y/N cackled in the background. Multiple clips showing Y/N with a fresh coffee, and another... and another, as Oscar's face in the background grew with concern. Zak Brown explaining to Y/N the dangers of caffeine overdose, and the need for moderation. Y/N explaining to Zak Brown that without coffee she would simply collapse and die, which the camera showed did nothing to ease her concern. Y/N getting caps signed by the drivers for fans and walking away with intricate friendship bracelets decorating her wrists.

And finally footage of the race. The engineers in the garage. The pit-crew changing tires. The cars racing past as Y/N watched attentively. Footage of the crowd as they cheered when the cars whizzed past. Smiling faces of fans. Y/N's cheers as Oscar and Lando passed. The smiling faces of McLaren employees as Lando and Oscar crossed the checkered flag in P6 and P8 respectively.

Y/N accepting hugs from both drivers, ignoring the burning sensation in her stomach as Lando wrapped his arms around her with a smile and a laugh. Y/N calling Lando smelly and telling him to go wash off if he wants to hug her next time, and him rolling his eyes at her fondly before making a face at the camera. The podium celebration is shown and Y/N smiles as the anthem plays, even though it's not for her own team.

The final clip is shown of Y/N in her hotel room, comfortable in sweats as she sits on the unmade bed.

"Not bad results this week guys! P6 for Lando and P8 for Oscar, which are good points for the team. I'm happy on my end, I think we got some good content filmed, and I am now ready to go to sleep so I can get home to Cali and my own bed quicker. I hope you enjoyed this video, and if you didn't don't tell me because I don't care!" Y/N jokes with a smile.

"Hopefully I will see you all at the next race, if not the race after that! Bye papaya fans, and be sure to follow us on instagram and all of the other social platforms!" Y/N exclaimed, gesturing to the list of the social media handles that appeared on her right hand side.

And with that, the camera cut to black.

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liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 29,145 others

ynusername afraid to report that i fought jetlag and lost 😔 i did sleep for 25 hours straight after melbourne and i had no clue where i was when i woke up! shout out cali for waking me up 🙏🏼 best friend frl

9,547 comments

bsfusername i'm going to try not to be offended by that caption (love you bb cali) but FUCK YOU CAUSE I BOUGHT YOUR ASS BREAKFAST

ynusername my bad! s/o to that bomb ass omlette 🤩

bsfusername never doing shit for you again

user34 that vlog was god tier, how long did that take

ynusername it took 7 hours of editing and years off my life, thanks so much for asking 🥳

maxverstappen1 thanks again for those podium photos! you have a gift for photography 💪🏻

ynusername don't mention it! 👍🏼

ynusername (no seriously, mclaren might behead me)

mclaren beheading is so last year. firing squad. 🗣️

user35 not y/n threatening herself 💀

oscarpiastri suprised your body didn't naturally wake up for coffee

ynusername it did! just 25 hours later

user36 your poor cat was literally starving for a whole day? youre a horrible owner

ynusername let me introduce you to god's greatest creation: the automatic feeder!!! i'm sure they can mail one to whatever fucking rock you live under!

user37 PERIODDDD

user38 me personally? i'd never log on again

user39 she needs a personal channel 🙏🏼🙏🏼 i'd subscribe

user40 her cat is so cute 😭😭😭 gimme that

ynusername 🫵 STAY BACK HEATHEN, NO ONE TOUCHES CALI AND LIVES

user40 my bad fam 🧍🏻‍♀️

user41 i want someone to love me as much as she loves that mean ass cat

landonorris don't you have a job to be doing 💀💀 she slept through a full work day

user42 lando always on her ass and for whattttt

user43 obsessed obsessed obsessed

ynusername i had the day off! but not the guy who was streaming video games coming for me 🥱 talking bout get a job

user44 lando and y/n beefing on insta again? we're so back

user45 at this point instagram comment beef isn't enough, they need to duel or some shit

user46 the caffeine addiction almost got her guys

ynusername i wish it would, then i wouldn't have to work with lando's annoying ass

landonorris I CAN SEE YOUR COMMENTS???

ynusername THAT'S THE POINT

user47 honestly just give her a gun atp, these men test her too damn much

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user48 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S RIGHT HERE

user49 no fr, like let's get back to bed grandma

user50 OP, are you concussed?

user51 no actually cause didn't y/n just say she wanted to khs working with him 💀💀

pastryboy81 that sign can't stop me, because i can't read!

user53 OK I ACTUALLY SEE THE VISION

user54 ARE YOUR EYES CLOSED???!1!1

user55 i fear i totally get it 😔

user56 it's giving enemies to lovers, secret relationship type vibe lowkkkk

user57 no deadass like he hugged her reallll tight

user58 she also hugged oscar 😭😭?? and he has a whole gf

user59 the way she shoved him off and told him he reeked not 5 seconds after 💀 delusion is a disease yall

user60 someone call the f1 gossip pages cause 😗

user61 more like someone call the ward cause somethings real off with yall 🤨

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sorry that this update took forever, i had surgery and recovery has been rougher than i expected! hope you enjoy!!

please leave your thoughts in the comments and feel free to drop a request for your fav in my asks <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

[avengxrz]

fic recs while i rest my brain!

hello friends! just wanted to drop by and give a little update. i’m currently taking a break from writing because work has been keeping me really busy, and life has been a lot lately. i just haven’t had the time or headspace to sit down and focus the way i want to, so i’m letting myself breathe for a bit.

however, i’ve been reading some incredible fics recently that made me laugh, cry, and fully spiral in the best way possible. these writers have seriously gotten me through the week, and i swear their work is just that good.

so while i rest and recharge, here are some fic recommendations from people whose writing made me feel everything all at once:

JAKE SERESIN FICS

three steps behind by @hangmanwrites summary: you wore the dress. he wore a t-shirt. you waited ninety-seven minutes. he smiled like nothing was wrong. and when you said you were tired, he still thought love was enough. side note: the writing in this fic is so good. it feels like the author actually lived through it. everything is written in a way that makes it feel real and honest. the emotions are quiet but heavy, and it really sticks with you.

a hangman-made disaster by @hangmanwrites summary: you swore you hated jake seresin, but one drunk night proved you were also stupid. now you're staring at a very positive pregnancy test in your bathroom, wearing an oversized shirt you stole from him, and wishing this was just a nightmare, but it's not. it's real. and unfortunately, so is the seresin baby currently plotting world domination in your uterus. side note: this was so good i am actually unwell. i need a part two so bad it hurts. the chaos, the tension, the way she’s standing there in his shirt like her whole life didn’t just flip upside down? perfection. and the line about the seresin baby plotting world domination? i laughed way too hard and then immediately felt bad for her. please i just know part two would go feral. give us more i am begging.

through the dark, back to you by @all-my-love-for-harry summary: a former profiler. a fighter pilot. a past that refuses to stay buried. when old ghosts resurface in san diego, the truth becomes the most dangerous thing of all. side note: this one had me hooked right away. the mix of mystery and emotion is so good, and the writing makes it feel like a movie in your head.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys by @tw1sters summary: jake seresin has pushed through the worst of war, but nothing can compare to the fear of you saying i love you. so he runs. side note: this one hurt in a quiet kind of way. jake surviving war but being scared of love feels so real. the fear, the running, the way he pulls back when it matters most. i just know this fic is going to break me in the best way.

BRADLEY BRADSHAW FICS

but it's warmer in your hands by @bodhiscurls summary: a night of domesticity is incomplete without you kissing your clingy husband goodnight. side note: i love me some domestic bradley bradshaw, it’s always so good. i swear it makes my heart melt every time. give me all the clingy husband vibes please.

picture perfect by @sometimesanalice side note: oh goodness this one hurts in the best way. please just make bradley her daddy already, he deserves that so much. the way he loves? the way he holds on? i am on the floor actually. crying. screaming. kicking my feet.

BOB FLOYD FICS

what happens in vegas, stays in vegas by @bodhiscurls summary: robert 'bob' floyd and you have always harboured feelings for each other, hidden in hotel rooms, stolen glances and secret kisses shared across the base. except one night in vegas celebrating the end of a gruelling mission finds you and bob waking up the next day unsure of how you made it to his room, the remenants of tequila pounding in your head and a rock the size of san diego on your ring finger. and what scares him the most is just how is he going to explain this to your brother. side note: oh this one had me grinning like a fool. the slow burn tension? the secret kisses? the vegas chaos?? i ate it all up. and waking up married to bob floyd? please. that is fanfic heaven. but the real kicker? the panic over telling your brother (ha it's rooster). i just know that part is going to be hilarious and stressful and so painfully good. i need to see how bob handles that because he is absolutely sweating bullets and still in love.

these are what i just read recently and i loved every single one of them. i’ll probably add more as i keep reading because i can never get enough of good writing. again, thank you to all the amazing writers for sharing your stories, you have no idea how much joy and comfort your words bring. see you around, happy reading!

[marielle555]

The UA path is my heaviest gaming experience.

I want to say right away, that I'm not trying to belittle anyone else's gaming experience or impose my point of view on anyone else about what's going on in the game. Neither am I trying to criticize the game BG3 as such (after all, in order to love the game, it is not necessary to use in your playthroughs all the opportunities provided by the game, and the fact that some variants of the playthrough may be hard for my perception and I do not want to use them in my main playthroughs, does not diminish my love for the game as long as other options are possible). In this post, I want to share my personal experience of passing on the so-called “good” route of Astarion and do my own analysis of what happens to him in this case.

I love to play RPG games with full immersion, imagining myself in the character's place, and the first playthrough should be blind, without spoilers, so as not to spoil the impression. In the case of BG3, unfortunately, it was not possible to completely protect myself from outside information, because even a banal search for screenshots with Astarion led to the fact that the eye somehow clung to arguments about how bad and scary it will be to help him Ascend and “you will lose him”. The specific torment with Astarion began with a phrase in the diary that appears after completing his personal quest (if you talk him out of the ritual): “Astarion's fate is sealed. He will be a vampire spawn for the rest of his days.” Astarion himself also talks about never seeing the sun again. The desire to play through the game without spoilers no longer mattered after that, and I found detailed descriptions with companions' lines and Tav's behavior, videos of Astarion's “good” ending (without the Ascension). It was during patch 4 and it was the ending, which just nullified the entire game for me, an ending I would never want to see in my playthrough. For me, as a player, who really loved Astarion, who had this character became the center of the entire game world, all the former sincere love and admiration for the world of Baldur at that moment simply changed to hatred for all the others that will enjoy life and see the sun. The rest of the plot was not important, it didn't matter what was going on around, other companions and all these side quests, what difference did it make, what happens next, if it all ends up like this.

And although before that I had accidentally learned about Astarion after reading one of the articles in a game magazine, that he turns down a lot of people at a party, I did not read any guides on principle, I wanted realistic roleplay without hints. And there were no problems with the romance, despite all the initial prickliness and regular disapproval, Astarion suddenly wowed me by asking me for a date even before any party, when I was even totally not expecting it. It was simply amazing. And the sea of tenderness and love that comes over me after the confession scene in the second act is hard to describe. It feels like you're holding his wounded heart in your hands, holding it as gently as you can, and there's nothing more precious in the whole world than that. And I'm going to go drinking with these idiots in a tavern in the finale, celebrating some sort of “victory,” while Astarion burns? Astarion in this ending looked like some kind of outcast, an object to be bullied, he's cheated, he's in pain, and he's forced to flee again, hiding from the sun. Is such a world even worth fighting for? Hardly. Well, of course, I also read all sorts of “horror stories” about Ascension: “Astarion becomes an abuser”, “Astarion will never respect you again” and similar nonsense. Just giving up on the game was hindered by the feeling that by doing so I was still betraying Astarion, leaving him a spawn. I decided, against all the “scaremongering” to Ascend Astarion, bring him to an adequate ending and call it a day. What a wonderful reward I received for that and what a wonderful happy playthrough I had is a separate story, a story that is still ongoing.

Of course, for the sake of understanding Astarion's character and compiling a complete picture, it's necessary to go through the game both ways, and I later decided to explore the UA path, without roleplay, but with attention to Astarion and his scenes, to understand what he's feeling along this route and how “good” it really is for him.

The scene of the abandonment of the ritual. It is not infrequently written that Astarion experiences “catharsis.” Where do we see catharsis? Yes, the very opportunity to take revenge on his tormentor, when Astarion stabs Cazador multiple times - this is catharsis, but after Astarion realizes that he has to give up the dream of becoming alive again, no purification or liberation occurs as a result. Next we see tears and cries of pain followed by a depressed state.

His tears in the scene of refusing the ritual are the most bitter, a grimace of real pain on his face.

Then there is doom and a kind of detachment, exhaustion…

It's the face of a doomed man. It is the face of a man who is depressed, a man who has resigned himself to the fact that he has nothing more to want and that nothing good awaits him, and he realizes it. There is no more hope. Astarion has cried his tears and now he humbles himself. Humbling himself and adjusting and this “new way” is not what he wanted. Astarion cries if he doesn't ascend, not only when the pain and grief of what has been taken from him hits him, but also the realization that there is nothing to get back, the realization of the future that awaits him. If you fail the persuasion check needed to get him to give up the ritual, Astarion will make it very clear why he doesn't want that life.

It is also interesting to note the moment when Astarion first met the Gur's after the death of Cazador.

“It is noteworthy how Spawn seems to say compassionate things that "saved Ulma from having to kill her children themselves," and then when he realized that his trick had worked, he abruptly changes his face and smiles slyly and says with relief, "You will stop following me, right?" I interpret this as "I'll say anything as long as you stop hunting me."

To me, it's a clear demonstration that he continues to wear a mask and says things to protect himself, not because he really feels for Ulma. And we must not forget that Astarion hates the Gur's, because they almost killed him and because of them he ended up in slavery. Therefore, it is reasonable that he wants to destroy them when he gets the chance.” © channel author AlexKhodja

Depression (or pain, suffering, doom, in general, the morbidly depressive emotional spectrum) is also evident in the scenes that follow.

The scene after the ritual (responding to Tav's line “I'm proud of you…”).

Astarion: “I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure. I just feel numb.”

And the voice and expression in which Astarion says: “I want to feel alive again.”

And how different that is from his “I feel alive, hahaha!”

Time 10.46

Also Astarion's line in the dialogue after: "I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?"

I can't help but think of how Astarion meets the dawn in the Act 1 scene, after a first night with him.

In this interesting video (combining the Astarion Origin version with the Astarion companion version in the meeting scene with Dalyria and Petras in the flophouse)

Time 4.09.

Response to Tav: "You did the right thing, stopping the Black Mass."

“I know. That doesn’t mean it stings any less”.

Tav: “And if it is? Can you live with what?”

"I'll have to. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

When Astarion says: “Someone who could break the cycle of power and terror…” he makes a gesture with his hand, as if trying to find the best words, to think of what to say next, before continuing: “… that started centuries ago.”

It's so artificial, and… When has Astarion ever expressed himself like that once throughout the game?

In response to Tav's line, "I wasn't sure if you'd stop the ritual or not, honestly." Astarion replies more sincerely, "I am - well, not 'happy' with how things turned out. But this does feel right."

The scene in the graveyard is sad, though it touches the heart. It was sad to hear him retort, “You were patient.” It sounds kind of self-deprecating, as if one had to “be patient” with Astarion, as if one couldn't love him unconditionally for what he is, as if one couldn't love all the manifestations of his lively and vivid character and be happy to have him around. And about the “objectively stupid thing to do” is also very sad to hear.

Also for Astarion, Tav has a pretty nasty line in this scene, “Then don't mess it up,” and the bitter part is that if you check it, Astarion will respond:

He accepts it. He accepts that attitude. He will endeavor to please. That kind of captures the whole essence of this “arch of redemption.”

And an even nastier line: “That sounds very sincere. Are you sure the parasite hasn’t chewed through your brain?”

And Astarion just lets him be treated that way:

Well, in this scene at least, not all lines for the player are bad. 1 adequate (“You won't. Whatever comes next. I've got you.”) to 2 bad lines. All-in-all, 1 is much better than 0, there's an opportunity for choice. But Astarion… Astarion thinks he deserves to be treated the way Tav treats him in the other 2, toxic lines. Where do we have “equal relationship” here? If the developers wanted to show AA “toxic” in such a way that the player would believe it, they should have just given him those two lines about “don't mess it up” and “parasite hasn't chewed through your brain” and not had to take away the player's agency, instead keep the agency, allow for the opportunity for loving roleplay and so that AA in that moment, when Tav opened their soul to him, would share an innermost, painful thing, like Astarion before in the graveyard scene, would tell them that or something similar. But that would require rewriting the whole character. But that's how you can treat him in a “healthy” and “equal” relationship.

“I'm still nothing, aren't I? Just an expandable frail spawn who will burn to a crisp soon enough.”

Yes, that line refers to the moment, when Tav betrays him, betrays everything they promised before, Tav wants to use his body, forcing Astarion to take on an astral tadpole, to do what is against his will. But Astarion will never say or think that about himself, when he Ascended and stopped being a “frail spawn” forever. Astarion thinks of himself that way, feels that way, and it's not just in relation to the tadpole. And the “will burn to a crisp soon enough” part - that part has nothing to do with this particular moment, when Tav betrays him, it seems like something he's been thinking about, something that's been eating away at him, and just now, at this particular moment, it came out of his mouth, even if it came out because Tav betrayed him. And sure, Tav's betrayal hurts him, but he's clearly thought about it before this moment. If he hadn't thought about it before, his words would have sounded different, at least they wouldn't have hinted at the bitter ending that would await him.

Left as a frail spawn, Astarion is forever locked into his mask, adjusting and behaving as he is “supposed” to, he keeps on pretending, he doesn't try to show his real self, his insecurity is solidified and expressed by clinging to Tav, as the only person who has been kind to him, and showing himself as Tav wants him to be. “Astarion's spawn is theater (with all the masks, lies and deception still included)” Neil.

When I played with UA, I felt a deep love for him, but with a strong dash of pain. I can't call that kind of relationship “healthy”. “Patience”… It really takes patience to follow this story through to the end. If in reality my loved one suddenly changed behavior from Astarion's playful behavior in Act 2 to UA's behavior, where there is a distinct sense of depression, I would sound the alarm and clearly would not consider it “good” or “normal”. And the way Astarion himself defines this relationship, the only line is, “Nothing special, of course…” Yes, it's a joke, but in that joke you can sense some degree of passive aggression, maybe resentment and doom. And afterward, he only talks about “care,” not love. “Care” is certainly a part of love, but it is only one of the "bricks'" it is less than '“love”, especially eternal love. “How could I say no?” - Okay in Act 2, when Astarion is just starting to trust and open up, but when the relationship seems to be already serious? The hug in the epilogue looks like a friendly hug, not a romantic one, and nowhere near as deep and touching as the hug in the confession scene of Act 2. And overall, compared to Ascended Astarion, there is a certain sense of detachment. Not a fake “glass barrier”, as in the game with AA without mods, when you can see from one look at him how Astarion reaches out to you, but, alas, there are no appropriate lines or actions for Tav, and, unfortunately, there can be a certain annoyance, that you play a game, where there are 'threesomes', brothels, bestiality, different variants of cheating, but there is no opportunity to just hug or kiss normally, or at least say: “I love you” to the dearest person. It's a sense of distance of a different kind - coming from Astarion himself. He has closed himself off. And it's as if he's fading. His other lines and facial expressions are devoid of their former playfulness, and some have overly sweet, unnaturally sweet intonations.

And the kind of roleplay that is possible in this relationship, how do I even play that? Tav concretely doesn't care about Astarion's condition. Not a single attempt to find not that healing, not even some kind of artifact to protect him from the sun. Tav is calmly going about their other, “more important” business and “having fun”. The scene at the docks is the apotheosis and culmination of the epitome of the worst partner behavior example in a relationship. Tav doesn't give a damn about Astarion concretely. The truest neglect. Our character will act as if they're fine with everything. Of course this is not a rebuke to the players, the players have no choice outside of the scenario, I myself have a scene consisting of exclusively negative lines and I'm scripted to be a submissive, if played without mods, the problems with roleplay and violation of player agency are present to some degree in both routes. I just don't know how to play with the UA with roleplay, I can think of a “good ” Tav, who feels sorry for all the spawns and wants to talk him out of it, but I can't think of a character, who agrees to behave the way Tav behaves in the scenario, it's just beyond. Astarion expects Tav to abandon him, he doesn't believe them until the end, he says so in the epilogue. Tav shows complete indifference to Astarion (I don't mean the player, I mean the kind of roleplay the game allows). On Tav's part - neglect, manipulation, ignoring his needs and his pain. Going to “celebrate victory” while he, burned, sits curled up behind crates at the docks.

What happens to him at this point can be seen in more detail in the scene at the docks of Astarion Origins.

Hidden Astarion ending cutscene for origin

In the epilogue without a relationship or after a breakup, he says that he now owns his own destiny, and when he finds a way to walk in the sun, he will not miss it now, nothing and no one will stop him. And these are important words, the ritual was really important to him.

«That being said, I haven't completely given up on returning to the sun. If the opportunity presented itself - well, I wouldn't say no...»

«Every day I yearned for the sun and mourned my curse to live in the shadows”.

«I've been exploring the world, looking for anything that will let me walk in the sun again”.

Also in the non-romantic epilogue we can see how Astarion was truly robbed at the moment of this “collective triumph”: “I felt… ashamed. Like I'd lost everything, just as you claimed your victory. I didn't want you to see me like that.”

And here's the look on his face after Astarion says:

“I did at first, but then I realised - these shadows, this darkness - it's all part of me.”

And just after this line, Astarion continues, “I spent too long defined by what other people did to me. The choices other people made for me - but that's over now.” Choices have been made for him, but now that he is free, he will no longer miss any opportunity, should one present itself to him. I think UA is even better off alone than with Tav, judging by the un-ascended epilogue. Even though it's much more bitter than romantic, in it Astarion says he won't miss his chance again if he ever gets one, and he finds a use for his abilities. And he won't have to endeavor or please anyone else.

This is of course my point of view, based largely on empathy, but I think real acting is precisely about conveying through facial expressions, voice, movements the feelings of the character and letting the viewer/player feel it. Where the authors managed to realistically and genuinely make me feel bad is in the UA route. But I don't see that as a minus - I appreciated the plot, and I can see my own sense in it, though in the future I won't ever choose it and would rather have a happy playthrough with the Ascended Astarion. But it's realistic, the game makes me think about what I'm doing, like in a good DnD with a harsh DM, when you can't just run around, do all the quests, help everyone, be “good” and get bonuses for it. It's necessary to act as one would act as a character, who lives in this world. Ascension is Astarion's path, it's what he wants, it's his only chance. If I didn't let him do it, if I left him as a spawn, didn't help him, why should I feel good about it afterwards? I have nothing against “good” roleplay, when some of ones moral principles are more important, it's just not definitely not my thing. I won't sacrifice a loved one for someone else's principles, “messages”, “narratives” or whatever. I don't play games for the sake of suffering, helplessness and pain. After all, if Tav and Astarion died somewhere along the way, Cazador would ascend and kill all those spawns. Astarion owed nothing to this world. The world has given him nothing but pain, contempt and rejection, why should he owe them all?

Humility - yes, that's how the UA path feels, and I can't imagine my character would give a loved one that rather than love, the joys of life and accepting them for who they are.

[dalliancekay]

On How Aziraphale Protects and Loves Crowley

I'm just tired of all the BS I read about Aziraphale. Again. Because, no, Crowley is not the plot driver and truth holder in GO. Yes, he loves Aziraphale and his actions are lead by the love but Aziraphale is not in the story just for Crowley to love the sweet naïve angel and eventually, hopefully lead him to the right path and then get him as a trophy for all his patience and understanding. Aziraphale also loves Crowley and his own decisions and actions are driven by that. He is not just some negating force to be overcome and Crowley is not the one patiently helping him get there. That's not their story. Aziraphale is not a dumb damsel in distress who Prince Charming has to rescue from a tower where she's asleep and blind to how her family is treating her so he can whisk her away. Aziraphale is his own person with his own truth and desires and goals (and they are valid and reasonable and rational). And he is good and kind. He ALWAYS was. And those goals of his are not in opposition to Crowley even when they are sometimes different to what Crowley wants. He does not need to be changed so Crowley gets what he wants. One is not a BAD and the other a GOOD character. Not in the least. I thought it was blatantly obvious by making them a literal demon and a literal angel. Sure, I love all the HCs about Crowley, but not if they are made at the expense of Aziraphale and unfortunately, they often are. If you care about Aziraphale, perhaps stop sometimes and consider, am I implying something about Aziraphale here that I did not intend? It's Crowley who teaches Aziraphale... it's Crowley who shows Aziraphale... it's Crowley who understands and is waiting for Aziraphale to see... why?? Why keep describing their beautiful relationship in this one sided way? Why so many find fault in Aziraphale in comparison, in opposition to something Crowley does or says or wants or is assumed to think? Please consider how these takes belittle Aziraphale and his person just like Heaven always belittled him; treating him as stupid, clueless and just waiting to be lead down the correct path and how much this would hurt him, HURT CROWLEY and humans that love him and identify with him. If you like Good Omens, try to rewatch it and look at Aziraphale, assume he is smart and good and brave and courageous and in love with Crowley and consider why he is doing what he's doing and saying. Consider how he is doing his very best in an extremely shitty situation. For a LONG time. So here's my rant today on why Aziraphale does what he does.

Let's start in Before the Beginning

Can't count how many times I saw people be angry with Aziraphale for telling Crowley about Earth and the plan to destroy everything about 6000 years after that particular project gets started. It's the reason Crowley fell apparently, it's the reason he's depressed, how could Aziraphale do that, why is he so mean... (not to mention that Crowley apparently also created the whole Universe basically by himself and the giddy sweet angel is also one of the highest Archangels too) I don't know what you wanted Aziraphale to do? Keep quiet so Crowley finds out from someone else? Has the kind of outburst he had in front of others? I think (and I bet Crowley'd agree) that Aziraphale was the best thing that could have happened to him at that moment. The anxious angel was kind and tried to explain and warn him to be careful. Did it work? We don't know. We don't know why Crowley fell. But if he did keep asking questions that were not welcome, that is certainly not Aziraphale's fault.

Do I really need to point out how upset Aziraphale is about the Flood? How he carefully words his statements, hoping Crowley will not do something rash, try something that will get him into trouble? This is not the first war or disaster they experienced. And far from the last. Do you really think Aziraphale didn't care about the kids? After being on Earth since the first kid ever was conceived? Did you miss how they say they can't disobey? (Crowley does not say it in the show, but he does in the book)

Why are people angry at Aziraphale for this? It's one step over - do you come here often? I think so anyway. He was just trying to be friendly to Crowley who was in a foul mood. It was not Aziraphale's fault and anyway, his awkward pick up line or whatever it was, did end up amusing Crowley when the angel tried to tempt him and he did manage to lift Crowley's mood. "Still in sales then?" Is absolutely the kind of stupid question I'd ask at an office party the cool person I wanted to be friends with, knowing full well they are in sales for the past 5 years (and therefore far less awkward than I am).

And perhaps that was the moment that seeded the idea of the Arrangement for Crowley. If the angel can tempt just as well as he can, perhaps they can trade jobs sometimes.

Do you think Aziraphale's fear is unfounded? (And do you see how he can't help but grin that someone sees them as a couple and how unbothered Crowley is by Aziraphale doing his protecting words thing?)

It's SAFEST to deny their friendship out loud.

Heaven WOULD try to hurt them over their friendship/ PARTNERSHIP. He always knew they would.

And so would Hell.

Six thousand years people say, 6000 years Crowley waited and it's too fast for Aziraphale? I MEAN REALLY

The poor heartbroken angel who just had to hand a LETHAL weapon to his beloved and will never forgive himself for this. Especially if something bad would happen. Can you imagine the weight on his heart?

Remember?

This is not an HC. This is how Crowley feels.

(Yes I know people HC that he does not care, that he wanted to Fall, that he chose to Fall, that he Fell doing something he believed in - but those are HCs, what Crowley says is that he didn't mean to Fall, that he hang out with the wrong guys, he tries to talk to God just like Aziraphale does and he does it by himself, he's not pretending for someone, it doesn't seem to be an act. And given the Angel!Crowley we know, that all seems plausible, although S3 might prove me wrong, who knows)

Have you ever been hurt by someone you love? By someone you know loves you? Someone who at the moment wants a different thing than what you do? Doesn't see what you want your way? What did you tell them at the height of an argument? Did you pick the worst thing you know they hate about themselves that would hurt them and throw it in their face? Did Aziraphale shout fine! Go! Damned, unforgiven, forever lost creature! No. He did not.

If that's not an expression of I will love you no matter what than I don't know what is. Well maybe this

You know what Crowley never got from Heaven (nor Hell)?

The feeling of being needed.

Why is understanding your partner and doing things they like a bad thing? Why is Aziraphale stating this a BAD thing? Why is he blamed for doing something they both enjoy? Do you think Crowley doesn't know that he's in love with a powerful ageless being bigger than we can imagine?

How else does Aziraphale protect Crowley?

Maybe the Ball wasn't strictly for Maggie and Nina. Maybe it wasn't just a chance to dance with his beloved. Maybe it was also a way to make sure his demon stays close by after the threats by Shax.

And do you remember that time Aziraphale stopped two thugs in a foggy cemetery to borrow a phone to check on Crowley when he was reminded of how he was taken from him some 200 years prior?

And what about this?

And you know what else does Aziraphale do for Crowley?

Trusts him

Teases him

Makes him laugh

Goes back to his abusers to protect him

And looks at him like this:

I run out of the 30 allowed images

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 8 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 10 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: hi besties… yes. it's been months. i am so sorry this chapter took so long. i've been dealing with a lot of personal stuff behind the scenes and on top of that, i kept spiraling over whether or not this chapter would be good enough. i didn't want to disappoint anyone, which of course led to the classic perfectionism paralysis loop™. but we're here now. mwms lives. and i missed this chaos so much! thank you so much for your patience, love, and support. i say that every time but i really mean it – you guys make writing so worth it! 🖤

It's been a few weeks since the news segment aired, and the café has finally quieted down.

By "quieted," of course, you mean the line no longer wraps around the block like a demonic conga line of true crime podcast listeners eager to witness a live haunting. The daily mob of "I saw the scary coffee shop on TikTok and I want to see it in person!" has finally thinned. The influencer with the ring light surgically attached to her hand has moved on to reviewing haunted Airbnbs. The man who claimed he could "feel the ghosts in the foam" has vanished, possibly into another dimension.

The novelty has worn off. The chaos is subsiding. Customers now trickle in at a pace that almost feels normal – if you ignore the fact that someone recently asked if they could rent Muffin Guy for an art installation. The café's haunted buzz has faded to more of a dull, persistent hum, like tinnitus or Greg's attempts at leadership.

For one shining moment, you genuinely considered quitting. You'd updated your resume, spell checked it three times, and hovered your mouse over apply on a listing for an administrative assistant job that offered dental and said "strong Excel skills preferred," which you interpreted to mean "lie through your teeth and hope for the best," but something stopped you.

Not a sense of duty. Not loyalty.

No, it was Choso.

You were exactly two clicks away from salvation when you made the fatal mistake of mentioning it out loud. That was when Choso, who had been quietly sipping a latte and watching you with his usual intensity, like you were a wounded sparrow he had adopted emotionally if not legally, set his drink down with a startling determination.

"If you abandon this post," he said solemnly, eyes narrowed as if delivering the grim news of an impending apocalypse, "the chaos will consume them all."

You'd laughed. He had not. And for some reason, you believed him.

So here you are. Still underpaid. Still over-caffeinated. Still working in a café that feels more like a cosmic test of patience than a functioning business.

The espresso machine, perhaps sensing your wavering loyalty, was again emitting noises that straddled the line between dying whale and demonic summoning ritual. You, already dead inside, jabbed at the steam wand with a spoon. Predictably, this did nothing except make the machine groan louder, the kind of sound one makes when they realize their card declines at a packed grocery store.

Greg the Manager, appeared from the back, looked at the machine, and nodded sagely. "Just give it some time."

You turned slowly, narrowing your eyes.

"We've been giving it time for months," you pointed out flatly. "I think it's evolving."

Greg clapped you on the shoulder in what was probably meant to be reassuring but mostly just felt like being touched by failure. "No worries. I already fixed the real problem."

"... With the espresso machine?"

Greg waved a hand. "No, not that. I mean, the real problem. We're not getting enough customers anymore."

You stared at him, choosing your words carefully. "Greg. The reason people stopped coming is because they finally realized just how weird this place is. If anything, fewer customers might mean fewer problems."

Greg shook his head vehemently. "We don't want fewer customers. We need to go viral again. We need to be… immersive."

Oh god.

"I hired a mascot," he announced, grinning.

There was a long silence.

"What."

"Check it out," Greg gestured grandly toward the entrance, his smile smug with misplaced pride.

And that was when you saw it.

The first mistake was thinking Greg the Manager was incapable of taking initiative. The second mistake was assuming he would take the right kind of initiative.

Standing near the door was something that absolutely should not exist. A mascot costume, if you could even call it that, shaped like a massive coffee bean with two stubby little arms and two stumpy little legs. But its face… oh god, its face.

Its eyes were glossy, unblinking voids, deep and lifeless, as if it had seen things no coffee bean ever should. Its stitched on smile stretched far too wide, grinning perpetually as if it had just whispered your deepest, darkest fears into your ear and found them hilarious.

"Why," you said, voice hollow, "does it look like it knows my sins?"

The mascot did not respond. It did not move. It simply stood there, radiating an aura of unspeakable horror.

"Behold," Greg announced, sweeping his arms toward the thing like a magician revealing his final trick, "our new marketing strategy."

You stared.

The coffee bean stared back.

Greg patted its velvet head fondly, oblivious to the terror he had unleashed. "The kids love mascots. This is how we go viral once more, baby!"

You glanced at the customers. A child was actively sobbing into his mother's coat. An old man whispered something in Spanish and made the sign of the cross. Even Muffin Guy paused, as if sensing a greater evil had entered the café.

"This is a disaster," you whispered to yourself.

Greg ignored you. "C'mon, I know what you're thinking, but listen. After Nanami showed up and fixed things for, like, an hour, I had an epiphany."  

"That you should finally quit and find a better job?"  

Greg ignored that too. "That I should take this café seriously. I should be a leader." He adjusted his posture to exude confidence. It did not work. "Nanami's whole thing is about efficiency, right? So what's more efficient than hiring an employee who just stands there advertising for us? We're calling him Beanie. He's going to increase foot traffic, boost engagement, and create an immersive brand experience."

"You learned those words from a TikTok, didn't you?"

"... Perhaps."

The mascot – Beanie, apparently – remained motionless. The oppressive weight of its gaze settled onto you like a physical force.

"Does he ever… talk?" you asked, wary.

Greg hesitated. "Not really."

"Not really, or not at all?"

"Not at all."

"Great." You turned back to the looming nightmare in a coffee bean suit. "Welcome to hell."

Beanie said nothing.

Later that day, the bell above the café door chimed with its usual pathetic ding – a sound so lacking in energy it might as well have been a cry for help. You glanced up and braced yourself for the next wave of nonsense.

The man who had just walked in did not look like the kind of person who should be here.

Tall. Immaculate black suit. Sunflower lapel pin. Briefcase. Haunted eyes. His shoes alone probably cost more than your entire paycheck. Everything about him screamed "burned out public defender in the midst of a very existential crisis." The man looked like he had walked straight out of a legal drama.

He paused just inside the door, taking in the room with the clinical detachment of someone mentally cataloging every fire hazard, potential lawsuit, and ethical violation in a five meter radius.

His gaze landed on Greg the Manager.

Greg the Manager was attempting to refill the napkin dispenser by jamming loose tissues into it one by one. It wasn't working.

Then his eyes slid to Muffin Guy, who was, as always, staring at a single muffin like it held the answer to mortality.

And then… they landed on Beanie.

The mascot stood motionless in the corner like a nightmarish, foam suited guardian of unspoken horrors. Its glossy eyes were fixed forward. Its stitched on smile stretched too wide, as if it knew secrets about the universe. Terrible, coffee stained secrets.

"...Welcome in," you said, voice flat. "Don't mind the mascot. It's mostly harmless. I think."

The man's eyes did not leave Beanie.

"That," he said slowly, "looks like it's committed several felonies."

You leaned your elbow on the counter, deadpan. "It probably has."

Beanie tilted its head slightly. No sound. No movement. Just quiet judgment, like it was deciding whether or not your soul was worth harvesting.

Depressed Phoenix Wright finally moved forward, slow and measured, as though worried sudden motion would trigger the thing into lunging. He approached the counter. Looked at the menu with the bored detachment of a man who had once cross-examined someone for three hours straight without blinking. His expression – stoic, bordering on existentially done with everything – didn't change.

You, internally, were already assessing risk.

Still, you kept your face neutral. "Can I help you?"

"Espresso. Medium." he said, tone calm but clipped.

You punched in the order. "That'll be–"

He'd already slid exact change across the counter.

You blinked.

Then looked up again.

Depressed Phoenix Wright was staring directly at you. Not in a weird way. Not like Choso's unblinking hyperfixation or Gojo's unsettling game show host smirk. No, this was different. Calculated. Measured. It felt like being appraised as a witness on the stand.

“Name for the cup?” you asked, already grabbing the marker.

The man blinked, just once. As if the question had caught him genuinely off guard, like you’d asked him for a blood type instead of the bare minimum for drink identification.

Then he answered, voice even, “Higuruma.”

You wrote it down carefully, trying not to butcher it. He definitely looked like the kind of guy who had been correcting teachers since age six. Neat cursive, perfect spacing.

As you moved to prepare the drink, Higuruma stood perfectly still, arms folded behind his back like he was listening for a trapdoor to open. His eyes drifted back to Beanie.

"Has that... always been there?" he asked, voice low, like the mascot might be listening.

"Nope," you said. "The manager hired it two days ago. Called it a 'marketing pivot.'"

"I see."

Greg chose that exact moment to pop up from behind the pastry case with an empty croissant box on his head and announce, "I'm doing inventory!"

Neither you nor Higuruma responded.

Beanie, however, tilted its head again. Just slightly.

You handed over the coffee.

Higuruma accepted the cup with the solemnity of a man receiving final evidence in a trial that would determine the fate of humanity. He took a slow sip, then blinked.

"This isn't bad," he admitted.

"Thanks," you replied. "It tastes better when the machine's not actively trying to kill me."

"I understand," he said, dead serious. "The judicial system does the same."

You blinked. "... You okay?"

"No," he replied, taking another sip. "But I'm trying new things. Like walking into cafés that seem statistically likely to be portals to hell."

Then, just as you thought the moment couldn't get any weirder, Beanie turned its entire body to face Higuruma. It didn't move its legs. It just… swiveled.

Higuruma stared. Slowly, carefully, he took one step back.

"I see," he said, completely composed. "It's trying to establish dominance."

"It does that sometimes," you muttered.

"I will now leave before it attempts to communicate."

And with that, Higuruma turned and walked out of the café with the air of a man who had just solved a murder and also maybe committed one. Beanie watched him go. Silently. Eternally.

Greg popped up behind you again.

"That guy seemed fun," he said.

You didn't respond. You were too busy wondering if you had just served coffee to someone who had definitely prosecuted, defended, and executed a war crime all before lunch.

From that day, things with Beanie only escalated.

At one point, Beanie was standing at the counter, watching you make a drink.

Nothing unusual.

Except when you looked back up, its head had turned 180 degrees.

You dropped the milk steamer.

"Greg," you hissed desperately, pulling him aside, fingers digging into his shoulder. "Fire. It."

"No."

"You've summoned a demon," you informed him flatly. "This is an eldritch horror in a coffee bean costume."

Greg scoffed. "Nah. It's just a guy in a suit."

"Is it?" you asked, because now that you thought about it – you had never actually seen them outside of the costume.

Every morning, the mascot was already there before you. Every night, it was the last to leave. It never took breaks. It never removed the costume.

And, worst of all, it never said a single word.

"Wait," you said suddenly. "Do we even know who's in there?"

Greg hesitated. "... Well, we already paid for the costume."

"This isn't a costume, Greg, this is an omen."

Greg waved a dismissive hand. "You're overreacting."

The espresso machine made a garbled, death-rattle noise. The mascot's head snapped toward it, and the machine immediately shut up.

You pointed. "Did you see that?"

Greg was already scrolling on his phone. "See what?"

This was your life now.

One night, after finally mentally compartmentalizing the eldritch horror situation as "Not My Problem," you returned to the counter and noticed something out of place.

A letter.

A single, folded letter sat neatly by the register. No envelope, no name. Just paper.

Suspicious.

You reached for the letter cautiously, like it might explode. You hesitated. Then, against every survival instinct screaming at you to leave it alone, you unfolded it.

The handwriting, if it could even be called that, was… something. Jagged, sharp, slightly slanted, the ink looked like it had been scrawled by a creature unfamiliar with the concept of pens. Or perhaps by something ancient. Forbidden. Possibly demonic. The kind of handwriting that looked like it belonged in an exorcism manual.

You squinted and began reading it, already filled with regret.

'You are the moonlight that guides my path. I long for your warmth, yet I am unworthy. You consume my thoughts like an unrelenting curse.'

You blinked.  

Looked around.

Beanie was still in the corner. Watching. Smiling that same too wide stitched on smile.

You turned back to the letter, read it again, and felt your soul leave your body. It was terrifying. Obsessive. Deeply, deeply ominous.

You turned to Gojo, who was leaning against the bar, sipping his sugar loaded nightmare drink. "Hey."

He looked up brightly. "Sup?"

You held up the letter, face expressionless. "I think I just got a message from a stalker. Possibly the creepy mascot."

Gojo did not react with the concern you had hoped for.

Instead, he inhaled his drink wrong and choked violently, then bent over laughing so hard it was unclear whether he was okay or just emotionally unhinged. Still coughing, he fished out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a dull ache forming behind your eyes.

"Submitting this to my favorite true crime podcast," Gojo answered cheerfully.

"Why?"

He was already snapping a photo. "They have a 'Creepy Corner' segment."

Meanwhile, across the café, Choso sat at a corner table. His hands were folded, posture painfully straight. He had been watching you with silent, monk-like devotion.

His chest was tight. His throat dry. His latte sat untouched.

He had spent hours crafting that letter. Choosing the right words. Conveying his feelings. He'd even rewritten it three times after Yuji said his original draft sounded like a death threat. He'd slipped it onto the counter when you weren't looking, then retreated to the shadows to wait.

Would you say something?

Would you acknowledge the words he had so carefully written?

Would you understand?

Surely, you would read his letter and understand his feelings. Surely, you would see the depth of his words, the weight of his affections.

He had imagined you reading it with curiosity. Perhaps confusion. Maybe even a rare smile. He had not accounted for Gojo. He had not anticipated Gojo photographing it. Or Gojo loudly announcing, "Damn, this is definitely serial killer behavior."

Choso's soul left his body.

He stared at his hands. He had no idea why his anonymous love letter was now being used as potential evidence for a future Dateline special.

He had failed.

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: also! if you've been craving more choso content from me during the wait, i actually started a new fic starring him and a very socially anxious reader who's fresh off a breakup. it's more serious than mwms (still has my usual crack moments tho), and it's all about hurt/comfort, healing, and two awkward people slowly figuring each other out. if you like my take on choso, you might really enjoy it 🥹

₊⊹. tag list: @luluminati @inthedarkshadows000 @isomehowexist @not-aya @emochosoluvr @lov3vivian @literallyushiwaka @kodditty @arrozyfrijoles23 @queenmimis @elizarikaallen @iloveyoucaesar @roseberry-jam @matcha-kitty13 @arrozyfrijoles23

[freshbakedbreadstick]

The Physicalities of Grief - Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

Summary (SPOILERS): It's hard to grieve someone when their not really gone.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. HEAVY SPOILERS OF SEASON 2 ACT 1 OF ARCANE!! BE WARNED! Reader is described as having a vagina and uses she/her pronouns. Reader’s backstory is kept vague but is mentioned to be from Zaun (the Undercity), worked with Jayce and Viktor, and was childhood friends with Viktor. Mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, heavy grief, angst (not a breadstick fanfic if there isn’t angst), bad coping with grief and emotions, grief horniness LMAO, spoilers, brief fear that someone broke into your place, slightly improper use of his powers (not really use tho more like hinting at it), brief mention of vomiting but not in detail (!!), this is basically shameless PWLP (porn with little plot) that i'm using to cope ok? 

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Unfortunately i am using Arcane Season 2 as a form of escapism bc i am not ok (context , i live in the US and i am a woman of color , , , , enough said ) anyways i am a Viktor stan and i love him SO SO SO much anyways AS PROMISE HERE IT IS ! LMAO i can't wait for act 2 to come out ! ! ! ! ENJOY ! (awhhh doesnt he look so normal in season 1 ?)

It feels like all you have ever known was this feeling.

This feeling of… swelling and crashing waves of anger and sadness. Of overwhelming crying screams, of bubbling tears that blind you, of aching emptiness that makes your joints feel sore and body retch after every meal.

Mel had to remind you that you were grieving, but you could see the way Jayce looked at her, shaking his head softly when she spoke. 

“He isn’t dead,” he would whisper once Mel would leave, but you could only weakly utter “Then why does it feel like he is?”

He never knew what to say to that, just stepping back, face falling. 

It was ridiculous at this point, the way he looked at you with… almost pity. You were sick of it. Everytime he came to you, updating you on the latest findings while you laid in bed, pathetically. Feeling like a waste as he went from spending hours in the lab, working beside his friend’s body encased in who knows what, to desperately fighting you to get you to eat something, anything.  

You felt like a burden, like a waste of a mind and body that was once so ambitious and passionate, moving around the lab to help with whatever you could get your hands on.

“I’m useless,” you would whisper to yourself in the cover of dark, chest empty and eyes red and dry. 

But his words… his words hurt the most. 

“Please eat something, anything!” He cried, trying to ever so gently pin your arms down as he lifted a small cup of soup to your face. 

“No Jayce, no! Stop it!” You cried, barely able to flail against him. 

“I need you to eat something, please! You can't keep going on like this!” His voice cracked. 

You pushed his hands away, successfully hitting the cup and making it clatter and crash to the floor. 

Both of you flinched, pausing mid movement to hear the sound of the porcelain shattering into millions of pieces. 

Stillness for a few seconds. Peace from him for a few seconds. 

Until his voice brought you back. 

“...Viktor would've wanted you to eat… to keep going…” 

It made your eyes burn, chest tightening, throat closing. It made your heart race, limbs suddenly energized for the first time in days, feeling ready to run marathons. 

Did Viktor feel this way the first time he touched the hexcore?

You shoved him away with surprising strength, making Jayce yell and fall to the ground, his arm moving up to shield himself. 

Leaping from bed, you yanked the sheets around yourself, heavy and dark fabric covering the weakness of your flesh from sight. 

“You have no idea what he would've wanted!” Your throat burned as you screamed, lips twisted into a sneer as you glared at him on the floor.

He couldn't even bear to look at you. Coward.

Paled hands moved to claw at your bedside table, yanking the drawers open. You yanked things out, throwing them to find it. Where is it?

Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?

Then you felt it. Soft beneath your fingertips, the embroidered ‘V' he asked you to add onto it scratching your skin ever so slightly. It made you pause, mind rushing and mouth rushing even faster.

“Better yet, you knew what he wanted and still went against him!” Your voice quivered as you yelled at Jayce.

Jayce gasped softly, head jerking back. 

“W-what friend you are,” You stuttered, tears rushing back into your eyes and making your voice sound watery. You felt stupid. 

Jayce’s breath hitched, his mouth opened to respond but you were too quick. You grasped the red fabric into your hands and rushed off, snatching your shoes on before you ran out the door with a choked sob, Jayce yelling out your name as you did so. 

Your body ached as you ran, running into corners and slamming into walls you didn’t sense as you rounded hallways. Your body feverish, only shivered when you stepped out into the chill of the quiet darkness of the supposed city of progress.

Your lungs ached as you ran, panting and gasping between cries. You ran and ran, stumbling and nearly collapsing as you made your descent.

Down, down, down… to the city you knew too well. 

Back home. 

You tucked the blanket closer as you rounded corners with ease, effortless as you hopped over piles of trash and twisted into darkened alleys, avoiding the sounds of twisted laughs and growls. 

You nearly ran into the door of your little old home, scratching at your neck to yank the necklace into the light of the partially broken street lamps. A trembling hand shoved the key into the lock, tugging yourself to press your cheek against the cold door with a hiss. 

It was hard to tell what you were doing in the darkness of the studio, staggering as you closed the door and moved around, getting bruises as you ran into old furniture and beat up tables. You cried out, howling in pain as you made your way toward your bed, hidden in the back of the room. 

One hand reached out, feeling the end of the furniture with heavy pants, eyes wide and barely able to make it out. But it was there, sturdy and reliable, the scent of comfort, of home, reaching your nose as you collapsed onto it, bursting out in wails.

The bed creaked as your body shook, the utter power of your lament echoing in the darkness of the room, red fabric clutched to your chest. 

You could smell him, smell the mixture of coffee, toast, and the unmistakable scent of the lab. 

You cried louder, rattling the windows with each sound as you held the fabric he used to tie his tie, nose buried into it. But it did nothing to muffle you, nothing to withhold the sounds of your cries. 

It felt like days passed before you passed out, falling unconscious without a second thought. 

But when you finally woke, it was dark again. 

Body aching, you sat up in with a heaved breath, wincing at the pain that echoed throughout your being. It was hardly bearable, making you sigh as you realized that you finally did it, you pushed yourself too much and rendered yourself alone, sleeping the day away.

You felt like a ghost skirting around your home, blanket clutched around your form and hand clutching the red fabric to your chest with paled knuckles. Feet made soft sounds as you stomped, using all your strength to collapse onto the sink, holding onto the ledge as you stretched, one hand opening the tap and lips greedily sucking in the water that came down.

You knew that you would probably regret this later, Zaun’s tap water was not meant to be drunk without extra precautions made to ensure it was clean. Afterall, this wasn’t Piltover, where you could drink fresh water from the tap without worry. 

You remembered the way your mother would have to boil it over the fire as a child, wincing as you drank the warm water after running circles around your childhood best friend, who would laugh and watch with a sad glint in his eyes as you did so. All you wanted was fresh, cold water after sweating, throat scratchy and knees scraped with a wonder only a child could possess. 

It made you want to cry again, as your familiar scratchy throat was soothed by the cool water, if only temporarily. 

Your hand barely had the strength to push the faucet shut, slipping onto your knees soon after. 

The fabric pressed against your nose, darkening under the tears that slipped and hit it on its way down your cheeks. Burnt toast… coffee… metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce, you. 

You crawled back into bed, grunting and groaning as your limbs screamed, desperate for you to stop and give up. ‘Forget it, you're alone now’ they said, desperate for a break. 

“Just… let me get to the bed… please,” you heard your gravely voice whisper out, begging yourself.

“...I’ll quit once I get to bed… please…”

‘Fine,’ you told yourself. 

Crumpled there on the sheets, you encased yourself with the blanket like a body laid to rest among the flowers, eyes closed and breathing getting slower. You could hear chatter from just beyond the walls, the sound of people chattering before rushing off, the occasional argument either followed by commotion or silence. It soothed you like a lullaby, as it soothed all children of the undercity. 

But as a fight breaks out nearby, harsh voices echoing the sounds of punches, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to think of something else. 

Like the day he convinced you to go with him to Piltover.

“Come with me,” he whispered, hand extended out to you, amber eyes glinting with hope for what this opportunity would bring.

“Oh Viktor,” you whispered aloud, voice breaking just like in the memory.

“Please,” he said, brows creasing. 

“But will I fit in? Will they accept me?” you murmured, holding your own hand, looking between his hand to his eyes.

“They accept me,” he breathed.

“That’s because you are a scientist.”

He scoffed, “Do not reduce yourself to utility, regardless of where you come from, you deserve to live amongst them.”

“But they will stare at me like… like I'm trash.”

“Nothing we aren’t used to already… besides… I need you there.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do?” you whispered to yourself, hand clutched to the fabric rising to press it against your nose again. 

Eyelids softened as you thought of the way he smiled, chuckling softly at your bewildered face, smooth voice like melody that made goosebumps spread across your skin as he said, “Of course I need you…”

You didn’t even realize your free hand had inched its way down your torso until your fingertips hit the waistband of your bottoms, making you freeze up, eyes snapping open to stare into the inky darkness.

You panted, chest rising and falling. 

“No…” you whispered, “N-no, no I… I can't.”

“Of course you can,” his voice echoed in your brain, smooth as a ray of sunlight, “Whatever it is you're worried about, I'll help you.”

Finally, your hand fell into his. He pulled you close, so close, that his eyes flickering onto yours felt like it had replaced the sun and the moon, “Come with me.”

Trembling, your hand pushed under the waistband and under your undergarments, fingers tracing over your mound before dipping down to the unabashed wetness of your core. 

You gasped, chest tightening. 

“No,” you whispered into the fabric. 

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Your fingers glided down, hips rising and legs spreading, skin so so hot under your touch. With a smooth swipe, the wetness gathered itself on your fingertip, moving to ever so gently press against your throbbing clit.

It made you whine, voice muffled by the fabric held tight against your hand. 

“No please…” you whispered once more, your resolve slipping as you thought of those amber eyes and how they glistened when he spoke about his work.

“C-can’t…” you just couldn’t bear it.

This was your childhood friend you were imagining, your friend who cared so deeply about you that he was willing to take you with him when he got a new opportunity in Piltover. Your friend who sacrificed his health for the sake of finding new tech to help people like you, who weren’t given a fair chance in the undercity. Your friend whose gaze would transfix on you as he explained what he was doing, voice tinged with an eagerness that made him whine when he thought your mind was straying from his words. 

“Darling, are you listening to me?” he would say as you played with some geared models he set out for you to see.

“Yes Viktor, I swear!” 

He would always chuckle and nod, either continuing to explain or instead staying silent, moving to stand behind you.

Your knees and mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Heavy pants filled the silence of the room. 

You could almost feel the way his hand would slide over yours as you played with the model, long nimble fingers gliding over your skin. 

You would gasp, hand stilling until he began to move it, guiding it with his own.“Here, let me show you… This is how you use it,” he would murmur, warm breath hitting your skin. It was so hard to suppress the shiver he gave you, no longer able to focus on the way he would turn the model the other way, guiding your fingers to press against a gear, turning it in a slow circle to get it working.

Your breathing hitched, hand moving in the way he showed you how. 

His hand would speed up, moving away to let you try it. The gears then began to move on their own, prompting you to move your own hand away, watching the model with an excited smile.

The swelling pleasure in your belly grew, making the smooth movements of your hand become erratic, unable to keep a steady pace. 

“V-Viktor,” you breathed, hips bucking into the air. 

You could imagine it, the way he spoke so smoothly to you, an air of calm to it as if he was speaking to a frightened animal, “Yes, my darling?”

“L-like this?” you croaked, fingers dipping to press against your sopping hole, feeling it drool onto your fingers. 

“Yes, exactly like that… you're doing so good…”

Your breaths grew more and more ragged, shivering as you chased your climax. It was so close, making your head fall back onto the sheets, fabric clutched to your nose, using it to run it up and down your body.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

“S-so… close…” you whispered. 

Then you heard it.

A whisper.

You stilled, eyes snapping open and wide in terror. 

You didn’t breathe, you didn’t move. 

‘Go to her’, it whispered once more, a feminine voice you couldn’t make out, too low for you to distinguish.

But you could hear staggered steps, moving. 

You knew you were hidden from view, allowing you an advantage, but this person was moving toward you, slowly but steadily.

You were frozen in place.

Did they come to rob you? Had you even locked your front door when you came in?

But you had no time to think, you were sitting here unarmed and vulnerable. 

Gathering yourself, you sat up in bed, careful to avoid making noise as you peaked above the furniture that hid you, seeing a cloaked figure moving in the dark. You saw nothing, just them staggering. They didn’t seem to be here to steal, brushing past your things without a second glance. 

You prayed to anyone who could hear you that it was just some weary soul needing to rest.

But right before you looked away, you saw it. 

You saw the glow.

A faint blue-purple glow of footsteps that led toward you. 

You swallowed, curling back and into yourself as your eyes trailed the faint humming glow of these footsteps, the way they led right to the foot of your bed. 

The cloaked and hooded figure approached, moving around what hid you to stand at the edge of your bed, looking right at you. 

Then you smelled it. 

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and… something… more.

Your breath hitched as a bony hand reached up and out, moving toward your face.

You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut as it moved. You didn't see the way it hesitated, pausing right before the warmth of your cheek.

“My darling…” They whispered, voice rumbling in a way that made your eyes snap open and body instantly and unconsciously sag, “Am i that scary?” 

You gasped, shaking as you made out the iridescent eyes that traced over your sunken cheeks and eyes with dark bags underneath. 

“Oh my darling…” he murmured, fingertips finally pressing against your cheeks. 

He was cold, but somehow warmth thrummed through him like… machinery. 

His thumb traced underneath your eye, gently, “Have you been suffering because… of me?” 

You said nothing, pinned to the spot underneath his gaze. 

You tried to say something, but nothing came out. Your mouth only opened and closed, silence emitting from it instead. 

His gaze swept over you, making a shiver go down your spine as you sat there. His gaze stilled, eyes widening ever so slightly as he followed your hands. He paused and, after a beat of silence, he spoke up.

“Here… let me show you.” 

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something indescribable. 

The hand cupping your cheeks trailed down to your jaw, tilting it upward to look at him as he shifted to sit in front of you, the overwhelming scent of Him invading your senses.

His other hand moved, gently wrapping itself around your wrist, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath his own. He then slid in, over and down underneath the waistband of your clothes and to your soaked fingers.

You could only stare into the pools of opal that peered into your soul.

A gasp wormed its way out of your mouth as his fingers pressed against you, index tracing around your throbbing clit to your clenching hole. He moved in circles, teasing you by pressing his longest finger just against your entrance before pulling back, moving to press a tiny bit deeper with every movement.

You felt yourself instantly relax, unable to help yourself as the familiar face of Viktor stared at you, eyes softening as he saw the panic melt away. 

“V-Viktor i…” you breathed, “You… d-” 

“I'm supposed to be dead… I know…” he whispered. 

His finger pressed in, making you groan softly as it moved against your warm walls, carefully pressing to find that spongy bit inside of you. He was always so calculated, even now as his gaze focused on your face, tracking every miniscule movement like the way your pupils dilated when you saw him, the way your breathing picked up when his thumb brushed against your clit, and the way your lips parted when his fingers curled. 

“But I'm here now, my darling… you don't have to worry anymore… I just want you to come back with me.”

His voice made your eyes struggle to keep open, soft moans filling the once empty room. You were drunk off him, drunk off the way his fingers moved so deliciously deliberate, stimulating you in multiple ways and making you melt. 

“Viktor…?” you sighed, barely registering what he said. 

“Yes?” Viktor whispered, leaning to press his forehead against your own. 

It sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, tingling with a purple glow over your skin. 

“I…” gasping for air was all you could do, the overwhelming sensation flowing through your veins as his thumb pressed against your clit, fingers curling in and out of you. You were so close again.

“More?” He murmured, voice soft. 

Your eyes could barely hold his gaze, “N-need you…” 

“Like I always needed you?” 

You moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you shook, the pleasure reaching its peak. 

“Cum for me… come with me.” he murmured, lips brushing against your own. 

He swallowed your moans as you cried out his name, body shaking. His hand on your jaw held you in place, continuing to move his fingers in you and on your clit, your hand wrapped around his wrist as he did so, the other still clutched onto his red tie. 

Pure, white, hot, pleasure stole your vision and voice, making you see visions of a future where you and your people would never have to suffer anymore, not with someone like Viktor to lead them. 

As you came down, body heaving and shaking, he carefully moved his hand off your core before wrapping your weak body with his lapis blue cloak, pressing you against him. Your head lolled, slotting against his neck, smelling the scent of burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something… something otherworldly. 

“Come with me.” He whispered, “I need you.”

“I will.” You whispered, this time not hesitating. 

[nightwngz]

Hi this is my first time requesting! Can you write a Damian Wayne NSFW where it’s my first time meaning the family he is stressed out and needs relaxing. (But the bat fam is home for the holidays) so no noises. I hope this makes sense!! Thank you so much love your writing!!!

— 𝓣𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ✧!! eng.

older!damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… drabble. porn with plot. smut. dirty talk, fingering, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲… I'm so tired with college that I didn't even have time to proofread it properly. An apology for that ;(

For a long time, Wayne Manor was the home of several people who, as they grew up and matured, moved on to other places to perform their duties as vigilantes. As a result, the mansion has had three primary owners: Bruce and Damian Wayne, as well as Alfred Pennyworth, the mansion's butler, now considered part of the family. Meanwhile, the others came and went on the grounds of the mansion. Holidays were one of the most important times when the whole family was finally together.

When Damian explained it to you in a simple way, despite not being a member of the detective clan, you could easily deduce how stressful it would be for your poor boyfriend to have the whole family at home for a week or two; so you offered to go and keep him company. Unfortunately, you never thought he would take you up on your offer.

It was the moment you found yourself on the huge bed in his room that you realized how stressful this situation would be for Damien. His face reflected incredible discomfort as he stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips.

You couldn't help but feel assaulted by the fleeting physical beauty that young Wayne possessed. Aside from the fact that only a towel encircled his waist, leaving the line of defined abs completely exposed, every inch of his body with such masculine features stood out when he showered...and when he was in a bad mood.

In a bad mood as it is now.

He hadn't said a word since he came out of the bathroom. He just walked over to where you were lying and moved in until he was completely on top of you, so close that you could not even move your body without running the risk of brushing an inch of his skin.

Immediately, he moved closer until his lips reached the exposed skin of your neck. You longed for his warmth, but you were still afraid that someone might hear you with so many people in the mansion.

— Damian... someone might hear us — You told him quietly as you tried to pull his lips away from your face.

— That's not a problem... — He said, admiring you with his deep green eyes. — Only if you know how to keep quiet.

The seriousness of his words sent an electric current down your spine. Your heart pounded against your chest and quickened as you felt Damian's breath on your pants and soon the sound of the zipper coming down.

Not long after that, he was so deep inside you that he had to cover your lips with his hand to keep you completely silent.

You knew it was a bad idea. You did it mostly because Damian needed it to relieve his stress, but sooner or later the pleasurable sensation deep in your stomach that prevented you from making a sound would suffocate you.

A finger slipped between your wet lips to give you some kind of incentive. He slid his thumb around your throbbing clit, leaving you stunned and breathing fast, so close to cum that even the gentle touch began to feel sensitive.

Later, he moved the hand that was silencing your sounds away from your face, but when the air hit your lungs again, he came closer and stuck his tongue deep into your mouth and gave you an embracing kiss.

— Shh, it's okay, beloved. You can do this. — He murmured, admiring you with malice reflected in his eyes.

[iluvloganhowlett]

Omg hiii, I just saw your “dating Hugh” hcs and I absolutely loved them... So could you pls write something where paparazzi are just bombarding him with questions about his relationship with the reader since there have been a lot of rumors about them breaking up but him still visiting the reader??? I would just love to see that respectful man handle all the nasty and out of pocket questions paparazzi go for

I LOVE HER ༉‧₊˚.

in which hugh humbles the internet by addressing false rumors

warnings: none, just fluff!

so my dumbass has no self control and i did unfortunately change the plot a little BUT i am planning to write a 2nd imagine on this same plot but differently! hope yall still like it

since working on the x-men movies with hugh, you two have been together ever since. happily, that is.

however somehow, from somewhere, rumors began to circulate that the two of you had broken up after your 23 years together.

and of course, you and hugh took these rumors to the press.

“so we’re aware that the two of you have worked together since the first x-men movie,” the host asks, earning a collection of nods from the two of you. “would you want to go into detail about how you guys began to date and just what the story was behind that?”

“yeah of course,” you began, hugh cutting you off.

he looked directly at the camera now rather than the host, pointing his finger at it in a silly manner, “and as far as i know, we are still together.”

the room erupts into laughter, most of it coming from you as you grab hugh’s other hand, intertwining your fingers in your lap. “yeah, oh my god i don’t know where it came from but for some reason all of twitter and tiktok and whatever else there is thinks we’ve broken up!”

the host smiles, “i saw that, in fact that was actually my next question on my list.”

“so you chose to ask the allegedly broken up couple about how they met and began dating before you ask them if they’re still together?” you joke, causing everyone to laugh once more.

though everyone was focused on your joke, the only thing you could focus on was hugh’s thumb rubbing up and down the back of your hand subconsciously. it was sweet, almost as if he did it without realizing.

“yeah.. yeah i love her so.. we’re not splitting until one of us dies.”

“hugh!” you smack his leg, brows furrowed close to your eyes in a warning manner.

he cocks his head as his eyes go wide, smiling brightly at your concern, “what?!”

“don’t talk about either of us dying, i don’t like that!”

his smile only grows as he chuckles at your rather unreasonable behavior, “alright i’m sorry.”

the host makes eye contact with the camera just as hugh had, “yeah i don’t think they’re breaking up anytime soon, look at them!”

the camera pans to zoom in on you and hugh; you’re still scolding him about how you don’t need to worry about splitting up when you’re perfectly fine while he’s trying to defend himself but is laughing too hard.

“i said im sorry!” he managed to get out, going weak as he brought his head down to your lap, trying to contain his laughter.

you smack the backside of his head gently, leaning to rest on the armrest of your chair as you roll your eyes, “and you’re not even taking me seriously, baby.”

“and they’re still holding hands,” the camera man points out from behind the scenes.

i guess it’s safe to say those rumors shut down, fast.

I HATE THIS WTF i’m sorry the end is so bad

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod @seamlessepiphany @withafoll @lulawantmula

[hitomisuzuya]

Hellloooooooo😖

This is my first time sending a requestttttt-

Before I ask, I hope you're happy and doing greatttttt, I wish you have a great, wonderful, and lovely day tomorrow!! I wish you the best!! I love you and your workkkk, advanced happy birthday to my favorite writer🫶🫶🫶!!

I was wondering if you can do a Yandere Scaramouche with a fem reader where she got kidnapped by him, and when she woke up, he was about to tell her that struggling is useless because she's tied up- but was surprised that she didn't even struggle at all.

He thought that she's only trying to get his trust so that she can escape later on- but when he saw how she seems to reciprocate his actions, and even initiates them sometimes.. He eventually trusted her-

The rest is up to you-!!

(I hope I didn't yap too much😖😖😖

English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if my grammar is bad-.. T-T

And also, to be specific, please make it smut-

Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like writing it<3!!

Again, I hope you're doing great, take care of yourself, love you, bye bye-!!🖤🖤🖤)

Yandere!Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut Kidnapping. Drugging. Bondage. Degradation. Praise. Creampie. Obsessive/possessive behavior.

Porn with plot this time. This might be a bit longer than I anticipated cause I wanna work on dialogue and detail. I enjoy writing Yanderes ❤️ Smut written while sick, so bear with me🥺

You are way too good for this world, and certainly way too good for the likes of Scaramouche. He knew this. However, this was for your own good. You are strong, but that's exactly why you needed him to protect you. He had to get to you before the unfortunate dregs of life broke you down. Sank it's claws into you, and broke you into a bunch of unfamiliar little pieces.

He more than had experience in the regard.

Scaramouche spent months preparing for this. What he didn't expect was what happened when you finally woke up. The confusion was evident in your eyes when they opened, blinking a few times to focus your vision.

"You are awake," His voice sounded like velvet in your ears, your gaze snapping to him, "Before you woke up, it was real treat for me, you know?" He walked over to the bed, "Getting to see what you look like all tied up for me," His fingers brushed one of your wrists, "Though I am starting to wonder if blue would look just as pretty on those delicate little wrists of yours."

It took a few moments for everything to catch up with you. Your breath hitched in your throat, a shy embarrassed blush that he often craved to see coated your cheeks, your eyes glancing up. Your wrists were tied together and to the headboard with purple ribbons of silk. "What's happening?" You asked a little weakly.

Scaramouche was surprised at the blush. He cleared his throat. "A valid question. I kidnapped you. You dropped like a brick after I drugged you. I may have used a bit more than I needed, but you haven't been sleeping well lately," He replied, matter of fact.

You sighed softly. "Okay," You nodded, adjusting yourself on the bed a little.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow. What was with you? What was up with that blush on your cheeks? Why were you being so calm? Why didn't you flinch away from the touch of someone who'd just drugged and kidnapped you?

Did he dare think you'd thought about being tied up for him?

"There is no use in struggling," He added, to which you only looked calm. He put his hand on your cheek, waiting for you to shriek and shy away from him.

Looking into his electric eyes always made your heart shake. "But, I'm not," His breath hitched in his throat as you turned your cheek into his hand.

"Yeah, you aren't. Now," You were no doubt trying to lure him into a false sense of security. That was usually the go to strategy for anyone who got kidnapped.

Perhaps he would keep you quiet with the few extra doses of sedatives for the first few days.

"Fine, leave me tied up for awhile. When you feel comfortable, untie me. I'll prove I won't run away," You said, giving him a soft smile that made him grit his teeth, "I promise."

Scaramouche flinched hearing the words I promise. So, he tested you. Boy did he test you. He would leave little traps to see if you would leave. He left the door unlocked. The windows open. He even left the damn door wide open. And yet when he returned, there you were, waiting for him.

Was this what love and loyalty looked like in another person? Did he finally understand what those things met?

The more he pushed his boundaries to see if you would break, the more you seemed to accept him. He got handsy and grabby with you, holding you down while he pressed lustful, harsh kisses to your lips. His teeth biting at your lower lip, his fingers brushing over all the intimate places he wanted to sink his teeth into.

Scaramouche was drowning both you and him in the obsessive passion he felt for you. And you accepted every bit of it. Even felt comforted by it. And when you said, "I want you to touch me. I want you," crawling to straddle his lap and nuzzling your cheek into his neck, every last bit of control he had shattered like glass.

"Say it," He hissed, his hand gripping the headboard tighter as he drove his cock into your sweet spot, "Tell me you want me while I make you cum on my cock, slut," He groaned, trembling as he felt your gummy walls clench on his cock.

If you could touch him, you would've. Your hands were tied above your head to the headboard, one wrist wrapped in purple silk, the other wrapped in blue (he couldn't make up his mind). "I want you, Scaramouche," You moaned, rocking your hips up to help push his cock deeper inside of you, "I want you so badly. I always have."

Fuck, your moans sounded so fucking sweet. It sent him reeling that someone like him could make someone like you, the purest thing in this world to him, moan so lewdly. Your weeping, abused pussy sucking his cock in. It was all so fucking addicting.

He drank in the sight of you, twitching and writhing underneath him, ribbons rubbing against your wrists from the force of his thrusts. Your eyes half lidded, and drool pooling from the corner of your mouth. Would you touch yourself if he untied you right here and now from how good he was making you feel? Your fingers skating over your clit, making your walls tighter on his cock?

There wasn't one intimate part of your body that didn't have dark, blossoming bruises of passion bitten into it. He'd had his fingers inside of you while he marked you up, feeling you soak his hand as he sucked and bite your skin.

"I fucking hope you know I am cumming inside," He growled, hovering his other hand over your throat. He didn't wrap his hand around it and squeeze. He just left it there to exert his dominance over you. Cum nearly spilled inside of you seeing how much it aroused you.

Seeing your eyes light up hearing that he planned to cum inside. The intimacy made your orgasm curl tighter. "Y-You promise?" You managed, moving your head back, and exposing your throat submissively to him for him to squeeze if he wanted.

Scaramouche couldn't hold back his moans anymore, especially not after that and so sweetly said. "Fuck, I'll pump you so fucking full. What a whore," He groaned. He would pump you so full like he imagined all those nights he jacked himself off to thoughts of you.

He knew he would never get enough of the shy, adoring blush that coated your cheeks when he degraded you.

"You are mine. All mine," His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as his cock pulsed inside of you. "Do you underneath me, slut? Or are you too fucked dumb?"

"I'm all yours, Scara. I always was," Your words were said with such tender truth to them. He couldn't detect one single hint of deception in your voice, even as your words broke apart into moans and whimpers.

You couldn't help it. You are in so love with him that it hurt. You'd just been too scared to tell him. Afraid of rejection. He could see it in your eyes. But, he understood that completely. "Shh, it's okay now, kitten," He started to babble, shuddering in pleasure as he pushed one of your knees up towards your chest, "I have you now. Everything will be okay. This horrible world won't ever hurt you," His hips snapped into yours with twice the vigor, "I'll see to that."

Only he alone could taint and corrupt you. Only he could break you down and put you back together as he saw fit. It was all the better for him that you accepted it without hesitation.

"You are close, fuck I can feel it," Your walls were squeezing so deliciously tight on his cock. He placed a rough, passionate kiss on your lips, devouring your mouth for a few long minutes. "And you are crying to," He pulled away, brushing the tears of pleasure falling from your eyes away with his thumb, "Cum on my cock like a good girl. You want me to cum inside, don't you?" He cooed.

You could barely manage a nod, crying out for him as your orgasm hit you. Your cum flooded around his cock, the feeling of your walls craving to milk his cock made cum pulse inside of you.

His fingers relentlessly rubbed your clit, further making you twitch and mewl in bliss as he fucked you through your climax.

"Good fucking girl," Scaramouche said, panting as he pulled out of you. Cum dripped out of your weeping hole. He didn't give you time to catch your breath, however. He was already working his way down between your legs to lick and suck your pussy clean.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Hidden Heir

Next ->

The Duke's family had very distinct eyes. It was genetic. An aggressively dominant trait at that, though it tended to die off, after a few generations out of the family. Supposedly a "blessing of the Gods". Spring to be exact. Bounty and luck. And the family certainly WAS bountiful.

In all the best and worst ways.

Wealth, corruption, children and bastards. It was a family so aggressively ALIVE, it could only be Spring's blessing that made them so. Pouring mania and madness into their veins like sweet sunlight. Whispering glory and riches, into power addled ears. They burst with life. Even as they endlessly destroyed themselves.

They were fictional.

Fascinating set dressings, for the stage play of someone else's story. Unimportant beyond their role in world building. As the origin story and power base of a character lead.

The Story ITSELF didn't even occur here. But rather, in the capital. Where the players of significance had gathered.

And I? Oh I was some minor antagonist, so insignificant to the plot, I genuinely could not remember which of seven different women I actually WAS. It had been an ongoing series. Otome Isekai. Reverse harem.

And I was either in the ORIGINAL original novel, the isekai'd plot novel, the anime adaption, OR a horrifying fever dream. My memory was largely useless. But? I did remember the characters. The archetypes.

And the fact, that the author had clearly been going though a Yandere phase.

My region of the Reverse Harem collect-o-thon? Horrifying! Red flags everywhere! No one here should date, leave room for fantasy Jesus, have we considered the joys of being a NUN? Yes. Yes I HAVE thought about it.

I was pretty sure I'd never make it. End up dead or captured by some sort of Nun Yandere. Or God Yandere. Possibly both. Assuming the bandit yanderes don't get me first. It... it was very stressful, living here.

Luckily? I knew when I could leave.

Or so I thought.

Because my house? The Dukedom? Had the "yandere butler who is secretly an heir." Who starts out with loyal dog behavior. A little highly possesive master and servant play. Then rises to become a Duke. Presumably? That is when I die. Or am disowned.

Death is most likely. Since my role was "minor antagonist" and I was to be mean to the sweet, earnest, Harem possessing Protagonist. Don't see WHY I would. Live and let live. Good for her etc etc. But regardless? Best to avoid, just in case.

The problem? Who do you think Mr Illegitimate Heir serves before she gets here? The OTHER possible heirs? Of course not! They'd "oops! Hunting accident~☆" him in a heart beat. Father isn't stupid. And my sisters? Issues. Violent, violent, issues.

He ends up with ME.

Father, WHY.

Obviously, I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. There is no war in Ba Sing Se. Mmmmm, tea. Good book. Ignore his creepy staring. His creepy, creepy staring.

Thankfully? I never really ran out of Totally Legitimate reasons to send him away to learn or do something. Proper tea making. Door maintenance. Eastern embroidery. Something, anything, and off you go! Bye bye~☆!

Unfortunately. He got faster. Better and better at learning. Mastering skills. Coming BACK. Showing up to stand in the corner, silent and looming, like an omen of death. Those damn eyes. The fucking family eyes!

I don't have them. And NOT as, my Father would have me believe, because I "take after my Mother". But because I am not genetically related to the Duke. I have GOLD eyes. When I wear the right shade of green? I pass. So I am condemned to forever wear green. Don't even really like it much. But?

I am pretty damn sure? I was just... pretty.

A lovely, orphaned, golden eyed child that COULD pass as his. So why not? It was a whim that payed off. Unlike in the original stories, I imagine. Since I am by FAR the best behaved child in this entire house. Ha! Suck it, bio-kids, the adopted one's the favorite! Maybe should have been less lil bitchs.

....I carefully do not say.

Those are INSIDE thoughts.

Fuck. He's still LOOMING. Isn't he? Go awaaaaaay. Where is Protag-chan? Come be doe eyed and busty! Trip adorably! Go "kyaaa~" or something! I feel body heat and freeze. He's leaning over my shoulder to pick up the teapot, pour me another cup. I can FEEL the barest graze of his knuckles against my back, from where he's gripped my chair. The smell of his aftershave almost hauntingly pleasant.

Like he KNEW exactly what smells I liked most. Went out of his way to find one that best suited my preference. Coincidence. Please, PLEASE be a coincidence! I do not turn my head. Keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Barely breathing.

He steps back.

The new pot is sharp and herbal. Almost bitter. I force myself to drink. Can't see a sugar dish, and REFUSE to turn around and ask for one. Ignore. IGNORE. My pounding heart calms. My muscles slowly start to relax.

It... it IS weird, though, now that I think about it? That Protag-chan hasn't reached the Dukedom yet. She should have. God only knows I sent Creepy to the capital enough times, with enough highly specific instructions, that he should've had his meet cute's and dates by the dozen. Been half way in love. So... why...?

Huh.

Dizzy.

The taste of tea sits wrong on my tounge. I stop drinking as the world sways. Letting the cup fall from my hand. Splatter, roll, and shatter. I try desperately to stand. A gentle gloved hand catches my elbow, supporting me. I turn. Giddy eyes. Triumphant, wide, spring green eyes. Too green to be gold, too gold to be green.

An almost cruel, mocking, yet loving grin.

Another hand slides around my waist, braces me against his side. Gleeful little murmurs, too pleased to be reassuring. You. You did this! You DRUGGED ME!

I can barely move, body relaxing against my command, going limp, as he draws me close. Presses his face against the side of my head, against my temple. A deep, shuddering breathe, that he savors like wine. I try to pull free but can not. Feel his lips pull into a vicious grin against my skin. Hands begin to run in gentle, claiming, exploration.

And at last the drugs kick in... the wo..rld..

G..oes..

Dar..k........

[waaaffle]

Dumping my thoughts here about something I have noticed because why not (a few spoilers for anime-onlys):

Shipping / headcanons are not an issue, but it's not lost on me that some of the people who ship Shisui/Loulan with Maomao are always hoping Jinshi — who is clearly the deuteragonist — dies or is written out of the story in some other way because he is considered an "obstacle" for the ship. I am not claiming that it is all or even most, but it is enough to where it's noticeable imo. This is a bummer because I think he is an interesting and well-written character in general (not just for his devotion for Maomao) but he is often reduced to some one-dimensional evil. Also, any Jinmao fans hating unprovoked are wrong as well, but I have already seen posts about that side of things, so I don't need to say much else.

I have seen people insinuate that the author should "fix" her story (disrespectful) or that she intended to write yuri between them but was forced in the other direction (flat out misinformation).

I saw a take recently where someone said that "Shisui is the closest maomao has come to feel affection for someone" which is a poor analysis of Maomao's character (this person said they are on LN 7 btw; such a take makes no sense if you are an anime-only imo, but is much worse coming from a supposed LN reader). She cares deeply for Luomen, Xiaolan, her sisters, etc. so this take is odd. The attempts to downplay Maomao's care and romantic love for him in the story (the tired take of "Maomao clearly hates him") to make their ship appear more "legitimate" (???) are just unserious 😭 why can't people just enjoy something without spreading misinformation. I don't think anyone should feel the need to prove why their ship is more legitimate and / or minimize what is written to enjoy it.

Side note: Someone else was mad that Jinshi came to save her + stop the rebellion because he was putting Loulan in danger by doing so, and that he should have left Maomao with the Shi clan. Just ridiculous. 😵‍💫

Unfortunately, blocking and muting does not fully help when this kind of stuff is even under posts and in spaces that like Jinshi and / or Jinmao. Imagine trying to find a space to talk about your favorite character, and instead you find people constantly bashing them, primarily for romance that was set up early on in the LNs. I think most people would be annoyed after a while — especially considering the particularly visceral hatred for and rampant mischaracterization of Jinshi that seems to run deep in the western fandom. I know the hate for him won't change and that's fine, but I think it's weird to go into spaces where people like him just to argue.

The author decided that Jinshi was going to be the deuteragonist very early on in the development of this story because he was already inseparable from the plot by LN 2 at latest.

She didn't have to (and no, she was not forced to) but she did.

Shisui was introduced for the Shi clan plotline and her character arc concluded nicely with its end (even died in the web novel). Definitely an important character for various reasons (the Shi clan rebellion and her actions lead to events that mark a key turning point in the series, an important role in Maomao making friends / opening up, etc.). However, based on the writing, there were likely no plans to make her role much different from what it was.

The author recently stated that she rarely makes big changes to the plot, so making Jinshi integral to the story as a whole (as in the plot would be completely different without him) and making their romance integral to the plot was a very deliberate decision on her part.

You definitely don't have to like him or their romance at all, we all have our personal tastes, but the story isn't bad for not going in a direction that it never intended to go in (or for taking a direction that you don't like).