#and no one is winning in this anyway so let’s not allow bitter feelings to sour our place in the community

[pommunist]

Hey! I'm sending this to you since you seems quite attached to pomme, you'll possibly understand a little what I'll say here ^^ (you are not obligated to respond or anything, you can delete if you want!)

I can't help but feel a litter bitter at the ccs and community being sad, saying goodbye to their eggs, and closing theirs character's arc. I'l very happy for them that they could have closure and a real end, but it's bittersweet when some of the eggs disappeared without having the opportunity to say goodbye... I would have love to have just a little reunion or some closure for the French ccs arc

Also seeing the ccs and viewers regret the eggs, while they had the possibility to see them once more, reunite, and even close with peace this chapter, I feel sad and left out that we didn't got that and that a lot of people acted as if nothing changed before... Now that all the eggs are gone, people talk about the "end of qsmp", but I guess it wasn't that important when it was only the French that were left out :(

I still send a lot of confort for everyone struggling right now, I had this feeling in march when we lost the French admins, and I hope everyone will be fine in the end, and continue to follow all the wonderful streamers we met <3

hey anon ! i would be lying if i said i don’t share some of your feelings that you expressed and tbh there was multiple times when i wanted to rant about this but then it hit me like what’s the point ?

misery won’t feel better if more people are miserable with us, we’re all losing something in this anyway, let’s at least be happy in the community we have because there’s not much else left 🥲

i understand people who kept hoping, who kept following the server because they still wanted to enjoy their favorite characters and their stories. i’m glad that those who got to have a somewhat proper ending were able to have it, even if i wish others could have had the same opportunity.

also i feel like a lot of people kept hope because there was still some things that could be saved and rebuilt on if qstudios decided to get their shit together and fix their wrongs, but it feels more final now. even I who stopped watching since lea first spoke up i still wished that things could get better, even if i would stop being a part of it

and hey let’s look at the bright side, a lot of people are sad now but we got a headstart on grieving 😎 catch up everyone ! /j

one thing I’m hoping for is that even if QSMP was to like fully fully end, people would keep holding Qstudios accountable for their treatment of the admins until they rights their wrongs !

also fuck yeah everyone let’s keep watching the wonderful ccs even if they dont play on the server, not only are they great streamers but also it’s an amazing opportunity to learn languages yippeee

[cherienymphe]

Escapism

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: Your brother always stayed up with you whenever you couldn’t sleep and nothing has changed now that his best friend is the reason for your late nights.

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, cheating, toxic relationship, semi-public sex, jealousy, secret relationship, side of Rafe x reader, lots of playing in Rafe's face, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You were a shitty girlfriend.

Perhaps, in some ways, you were being too harsh on yourself because it wasn’t like Rafe would ever win boyfriend of the year. The blond came with a plethora of issues that could only be fixed with therapy—something you probably wouldn’t even be able to pay him to do—and he chose to handle every single one with one horrible coping mechanism after the next. When it was all said and done though, you really only had yourself to blame.

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to the man before you started dating him.

You knew Rafe well—you’d grown up with him—so was it really his fault that you chose to ignore every single thing you knew about him in the hopes that he would mature and change? Was it his fault that you forgave him time and time again with the hopes that he could still change? Was he the asshole for being him or were you the asshole for going into this with the expectation he’d be something he wasn’t?

“Come on,” Topper would say to you in the dead of night. “You and I both know what he’s like—what he’s always been like.”

It was usually after he’d listen to you cry over Rafe and whatever girl he’d kissed or whatever awful thing he’d said to you, pupils blown and alcohol on his breath. He’d pull you to sit back, hands rubbing over your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It was always well into the night when you both should’ve been asleep, but per your routine as of late, you’d be waiting up for Rafe to call or text or walk through the door.

Anything to let you know he wasn’t passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere.

“Rafe can take care of himself just fine.”

Or some variation of that would reach your ears, and you’d press your hands to your face in exhaustion. You’d never miss the bitterness—borderline malice—in Topper’s voice as he said something like that. You knew it wasn’t directed at you, but more so your relationship with the other blond as a whole and his frustration with it. Topper never wanted you to date Rafe, and you knew he took no pleasure in watching Rafe prove him right.

Rafe may have been his best friend…

…but you were ten and Topper was twelve when his mother married your father. He’d been protective of you since day one, having been an only child before that, and you knew that he hated having to let you make your own choices and mistakes with the guy you’d both once called a friend. If you and Rafe came out of this relationship intact, you doubted you’d ever call him ‘friend’ again.

He’d hurt you too much for that.

You weren’t a bad girlfriend for thinking such thoughts. Nor were you a bad girlfriend for trying to break up with him on several occasions, something Rafe would always talk you out of with promises of remorse and change. You didn’t even think you were a bad girlfriend for venting about your frustration and hurt to his best friend—your stepbrother.

You were a shitty girlfriend for allowing something to continue that should’ve ended years ago.

Fed up with talking about Rafe and how badly he’d hurt your feelings earlier in the day, Topper had pressed his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up with a kiss. A kiss that you returned, shoulders sagging and a weight lifting off of your chest as his arms circled around your waist. Rafe had called you a nag hours before, subsequently telling you he wouldn’t be staying over before hanging up without another word.

It had hurt you, but you were sure Topper was just relieved to have you all to himself.

Or at the very least, wouldn’t be tempted to fuck you anyway—Rafe under the same roof be damned.

You both were quiet in the dark living room—your parents asleep upstairs—and the longer you kissed him, the more you just wanted to forget about Rafe. The t-shirt you wore was bunching up under the blonde’s hands, and you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your neck. You could feel how much he wanted you, and any other night you would’ve loved to drag this out, but much like Topper…

You just wanted to feel him inside of you.

You never wore any underwear to bed, both for convenience and just because. It was something Topper had come to appreciate, and when you helped him pull his shorts down, cock springing free, you couldn’t slide down the couch fast enough. He hooked one hand under your thigh, helping you and dragging you closer, the other squeezing his cock with long strokes.

He rubbed the tip of himself against you a few times, coating the head in your essence, unsurprised at how wet and ready for him you already were. The feel made you bite the inside of your cheek, lifting your hips in an attempt to get him to sink into you even if just a little. You didn’t miss the soft chuckle that rang through the air.

“I’m sorry,” he huskily told you, pushing into you with one slow thrust. “Is that better?”

You hated his mocking tone, but not as much as you loved the feel of him stretching you out. You clawed at him, pulling him closer, sighing into his mouth when he finally kissed you again. The movements of his hips were slow, too afraid to do too much and make too much noise. The pace was enough to make your head spin and was definitely enough to make you squirm beneath him. When you started lifting your hips to meet him halfway, he groaned into the kiss.

Rafe was the furthest thing from your mind.

Sliding your hands up Topper’s frame, you threaded your fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging along his scalp. By the way he shuddered against you, you knew that he liked that. Every snap of his hips into yours had you swallowing down every noise that threatened to escape. His cock stroked your walls in a way that made you squeeze your eyes shut.

Shifting, you felt his hand slide down to rest on the inside of your thigh, pushing it and spreading it until your leg hung off of the couch. At that, you did gasp, a choaked sound escaping your lips before you snapped them shut. His free hand was beside your head now, forearm resting on the couch cushion. You both were quiet, but your soft labored breathing could still be heard if you listened hard enough.

When you softly moaned his name, he shushed you.

“I want…” you fought to catch your breath enough to speak. “I want you to come inside of me.”

You felt another shiver travel up his spine, head falling into the crook of your neck at that. You knew he wasn’t close, but you felt like making that known. It wasn’t something you both made a habit of, but you loved the feel of Topper spilling into you, cock twitching as he coated your walls in his release. When you pushed against his hand, he got the hint, and you circled his waist with your legs, ankles hooking at the small of his back.

Topper took his time fucking you.

He often did, feeling no need to rush or no fear that you’d get caught. You didn’t know if he was just that confident in how quickly you could pull yourselves together or that it simply wouldn’t happen. Some part of you wondered if maybe he just didn’t care. You knew that couldn’t be true for several reasons, the most pressing being your boyfriend.

It was funny.

Rafe had probably cheated on you more times than you actually knew of, but the minute some other guy looked at you for even just a second too long, he was gearing up for a fight. You didn’t know if he was performative or just that skilled at compartmentalization, but you hated it. What good did it do for him to act so noble and possessive when way too many people knew how much he’d embarrassed you over the past six months?

You didn’t doubt that he’d try to kill Topper in some coked out rage if he ever knew.

Topper’s hand was cupping your breast under your shirt as he pressed kisses to your neck and jaw. He was whispering in your ear, telling you how good you felt and how wet you were, and how much he wanted to feel you coming around him. He knew what to say to send you over the edge, and at the first sound, he covered your mouth in another kiss to swallow your moans.

You squeezed him tight, walls clenching as he fucked you through your climax, cock plunging into your soaking cunt as he chased his own. His thrusts grew sloppy, and they weren’t as languid, and his blond strands kissed your forehead as they grew messy and awkward with sweat. Your legs had long fallen around him, and you pressed your hand against his lower back.

When he came, he buried his face into where your neck and shoulder met, groaning into the skin. You shuddered at the feel of him spilling into you, still clenching around him as remnants of your orgasm finally started to dissipate. His breathing was heavy against your skin before pulling back just enough to touch his forehead to yours.

You could only hear your efforts to catch your breath.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded, positive he could feel the action against his forehead. You fingered the top of his shorts, and you bit your lip. You didn’t say it back often—something you still had trouble accepting and admitting—but you told him enough so that he’d never doubt it.

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” you quietly asked him. “Rafe probably won’t come over until after noon…if he comes over, at all.”

You tried not to let your voice shrink at the thought, but Topper caught it anyway. Pulling out of you and sitting up, he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him. Righting himself, he pulled you to your feet, his other hand pushing his hair away from his face.

“You know you never have to ask,” he told you.

His hands were comfortably on your waist as he followed behind you, guiding you upstairs.

“What…? You got a problem or something?”

You knew it was coming when you were the only one who wasn’t laughing, unamused as he recounted his tale of how he’d cornered Pope. You’d never known the other guy to get into any trouble or bother anyone, and while you knew there would never be anything you could do about whatever petty rivalry your brother and your boyfriend and their friends involved themselves in, Pope just seemed like low hanging fruit.

He wasn’t even the type to fight back.

“I just don’t find it funny,” was all you said, squinting under the harsh rays of the sun. “You know Pope’s not even like that. I might’ve laughed if it were JJ or…I don’t know…someone who would actually put up a fight.”

Rafe’s entire demeanor clouded over at that, and you were prepared for whatever was about to come out of his mouth when Topper spoke.

“Rafe,” the other blond warned. “Chill.”

He seemed to anticipate Rafe’s ire just as much as you did, and Rafe paused, glancing at his best friend before huffing. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with that cold blue gaze of his. The sun shone off of his dirty blond strands, the tresses curtained along his forehead, and you watched him bring his hand up to rest against his lips before finally settling on a better response than what you both knew you almost got.

“So, what are you trying to say?”

Choosing to end this fight before it even began, you sighed, looking away.

“I’m not saying anything, Rafe. You can do whatever you want,” you murmured. “You always do.”

He heard that loud and clear, and the laugh he let out wasn’t humorous in the slightest. You heard him roughly get up from his seat, chair scraping against the wooden floor. You watched him snatch his glass off the table, mumbling something about needing a refill but not before making a comment to Topper that was solely intended for you.

“Get your sister, Top,” your boyfriend drawled, making you cross your arms over your chest.

You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, and you avoided his gaze.

“Sometimes I swear you like fighting with him just as much as he does you.”

At that, you scoffed, looking at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t laugh because he beat up Pope Heyward…and that was apparently a problem,” you pointed out to which Topper merely shrugged, unable to disagree. “I apologize for not finding it funny.”

“Babe,” he softly said, reaching out and touching your arm. “He’s a Pogue, and you know how Rafe is.”

His excuse for Rafe’s behavior only made you roll your eyes, and you heard him sigh as you reached for your stuff. He said your name, trying to get you to sit back down, but you were only more determined to leave once you caught sight of Kelce walking up the steps to the restaurant too. Dealing with all three of them at once was enough to give you a coronary.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer Rafe as you passed him on his way back to the table, ignoring Kelce too when he said hey to you. You hated to take it out on him when he didn’t actually do anything this time, but you knew his mindset was just as bad as Rafe’s, and so you figured it was preemptively deserved. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Rafe was going to talk shit about you the second you were out of sight.

It was one of those days where you really felt emboldened to finally break up with him for good. Rafe hadn’t been good to you nor right for you since the beginning, and you knew that if Topper was a lesser person, he would’ve said ‘I told you so’ a million times by now. You were grateful that he didn’t make you feel worse for being naïve enough to ever believe in Rafe Cameron.

Although, some part of you wondered if having you crawl into his bed night after night was satisfaction enough.

It was hours later when he was softly apologizing for both his and Rafe’s behavior, fingers digging into your waist as you pushed yourself down onto him. Rafe had long fallen asleep, his light snores easing your worry as you’d snuck out of your room. Topper was awake—as you’d hoped—and it was true that you’d only intended to talk. Rafe’s attitude hadn’t been much better when you finally reunited again, something you were sure Topper had overheard.

“You really want to talk about Rafe, right now?” he’d whispered, hand sliding along your thigh.

“Topper,” you’d quietly hissed in warning. “Not…tonight. He’s…”

You didn’t need to finish that sentence, feeling no need to as you gestured towards his door. The blond had fixed you with a look that made your stomach flip, a hint of a smirk dancing along his pink lips as he held your gaze.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

You’d swallowed at that, feeling unsure, but that was a feeling that had never stopped the other man before either. The first time he’d ever kissed you, you’d felt unsure, but Topper hadn’t cared, holding you to him and fingering you on the back deck while his mother threw some grand party downstairs. You still remembered the way you came around his fingers, an admission of insecurities somehow leading to your first ever sexual experience—and with your own stepbrother no less.

“Topper,” you’d quietly warned when he brushed his lips against yours. “Rafe…”

“Do…not…talk about him, right now,” he’d slowly said, fingers grazing along your folds just as slow.

Despite your hand against his shoulder, he’d laid you down, lips finding the skin just under your jaw.

“He’s the last thing I want to talk about, right now.”

…and he’d meant it, curving his fingers into you while pressing open mouthed kisses to your jaw and throat and collarbone. Any protest you had was swallowed down and quickly forgotten at the slick feeling between your legs, Topper’s fingers sinking into your cunt with ease. Your own twisted into the fabric of his shirt, hips lifted towards his hand, fighting to swallow down a whimper each time his thumb circled your clit.

“Fuck,” he’d cursed into your skin. “I love how wet you get for me.”

It wasn’t long after that that he was hurrying to get inside of you, shirts and shorts discarded as he pulled you on top of him. When you sank down onto him, he’d sighed, throwing his head back and lifting his hips. With your hands on his stomach, you’d lifted yourself until the tip of his cock just barely remained inside of you before sliding back down.

You gently bounced on top of him, hyper aware of who was just in the other room. You could tell that Topper wasn’t a huge fan, feeling that you had to pick one between being on top and being gentle, but it couldn’t be both. When his hands slid up your frame, they rested on the sides of your neck before pulling you down. Your eyes fell closed when you kissed him, and you gasped into his mouth when he lifted his hips, driving himself up into you.

You mentally cursed, realizing you’d been tricked.

With his hands quickly sliding down to snake around your waist, Topper wasted no time in lifting his hips to push his cock up into you. The force of his thrusts had you squeezing him in more ways than one, lips parted and eyes tight as he roughly fucked himself up into you. His bed shook under his movements, and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining into his mouth, the sound of him sinking into you reaching your ears.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he hummed, one hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

When his bed knocked into the wall, he halted his movements, using the moment to both catch his breath and listen. Your own heart stuttered, digging your nails into his chest because you’d literally told Topper so. Once Rafe was knocked out, it was usually pretty hard to wake him up, but it would be just your luck that this night of all nights he’d be a light sleeper.

You really didn’t want to imagine the chaos if he left your room in search of you only to find his best friend balls deep inside of you.

When no worrying sounds reached your ears, Topper took that as a sign to continue, knees bent as he thrust up into you again. You could tell he was close by the way his cock twitched inside of you, and something nagged in the back of your mind about that. When you attempted to pull yourself off of him, he held you tighter.

“Topper,” you gasped, a warning in your tone. “Don’t-.”

Your words were abruptly swallowed when he rolled you both, pinning you beneath him and jerking his hips into yours. The rough and fast pace had you momentarily forgetting your train of thought, weakly pushing against his stomach. You both knew why you didn’t want him to finish inside of you, but he didn’t seem to care about Rafe possibly sinking into you in the early hours of the morning with his best friend’s cum dried along your folds.

You yelped when you came, a roaring sound in your ears as you felt him do the same, filling you up with a grunt. His hips didn’t stop snapping against yours the entire time, fucking you through it and fucking his cum into you. He had you completely caged beneath him, and all you could do was quietly milk his cock, toes curling as you scratched at his back.

When clarity finally hit, the fog lifting, you roughly pushed him away. You didn’t miss his quiet chuckle, and you didn’t spare him a glance as you reached for your oversized t-shirt—his t-shirt.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumbled, pulling it over your head and slapping his hand away when he reached down to slide his fingers between your sticky folds.

You didn’t spare Topper another glance before hurrying out of his room.

You kept your eyes on Rafe as he flew down the road, the loud music making his truck almost vibrate. He was ignoring you, preoccupied with his conversation with Kelce who was in the passenger seat. It was funny because the only one with a right to be mad was you, recalling the fight you’d had on the beach not even an hour ago.

“She was all over you, and you just stood there and let it happen,” you’d yelled at him, feeling humiliated for the umpteenth time.

“I barely remember what that girl even looks like,” was his reply, pupils blown. “It was nothing, baby.”

You had slapped his hand away when he reached for you, unmoved by the way his countenance darkened. The sounds of the party just down the beach only served to remind you how you felt when you walked up on him with his hand on some girl’s waist, her lips trailing kisses along his neck. You could tell she was drunk, and instead of pushing her away, Rafe just entertained it.

Your eyes had only met for half a second before you were turning away.

You didn’t even know why he chased you down the beach, and that was what you’d told him.

“You’re not sorry…you don’t feel bad, and you know what? You’ll probably do worse two weeks from now, so why are you even here?”

You’d shrugged at him, certain your confusion was evident on your face.

“Look, it was nothing,” he’d spat at you. “Once again, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

That had actually made you laugh, tears kissing your eyes.

“If you caught me cozying up to any guy with half the effort that she was with you…you would lose your shit, and you know it,” you’d sneered, watching his jaw tick. “I would love to see the look on your face if I fucked someone else.”

He’d gotten in your face, his finger almost touching your eye.

“I was barely touching her-.”

“That wasn’t the case three months ago,” you threw in his face. “…and I can only imagine what I don’t know about.”

Rafe’s nostrils had flared, and for a split second, you swore you saw some shame pass through his blue gaze. It was gone just as quickly as it came though, anger replacing it instead.

“You wouldn’t dare, you wouldn’t fucking dare,” he bit out, invading your personal space. “I said I was sorry, and you said you forgave me, so don’t think you can use that as an excuse to go fuck some asshole who clearly doesn’t value his life.”

His words had only made you angrier, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your face even, recalling the feel of Topper’s cock inside of you just thirty minutes before Rafe came to pick you both up. You and your boyfriend had stared each other down for a few moments more before he spoke again.

“I’d love to see you do that,” he finally said, shrugging. “I would love to see you try when you can’t even stick to staying broken up with me.”

His words had the desired effect, and you’d felt your face fall.

“Now, you’re trying to convince me you’d ever have the nerve to cheat on me?” he’d wondered, fingers grazing his own chest. “Don’t make me laugh.”

He’d left you with a scoff, and you hadn’t been able to stop your tears from spilling over. All you’d ever tried to do was routinely look for and believe in the best in Rafe, and you couldn’t believe that he threw that in your face like some insult. Maybe it was an insult though…because how many times were you going to let him show you exactly who he was? How many times were you going to let him play in your face?

The day after you’d confronted him about sleeping with some girl—only privy to the information because of none other than Topper—you’d cried yourself to sleep. It was always little things before that, but that incident was what broke you, allowing Topper to slip into your room and wrap his arms around you. It was reminiscent of a time where he used to sneak into your room almost every night, your parents none the wiser to what went on underneath their roof. You’d been eighteen then, Topper twenty, and you both mutually agreed to putting a stop to it.

However, that night, his mind had clearly gone to the same place yours had.

When he kissed you, you’d pulled him closer, and two years after you ended your forbidden dalliance, you resumed it again. For a few hours, you’d forgotten all about Rafe and what he did and just basked in the feel of Topper pushing his cock into you, embarrassingly turned on because of how much you’d missed him. You hadn’t paid any mind to the countless phone calls and texts that were blowing up your phone, no one else but Rafe and his vain attempts to fix what he did.

The day you forgave him, you knew you were making a huge mistake.

Rafe throwing the grace you’d shown him in your face had you stomping to his truck. You’d ignored the feel of eyes on you, knowing it wasn’t Rafe, opting to slide in the backseat without acknowledging him. Kelce—ever the standup guy—just pretended not to notice the tension between you and his friend as he slid into the passenger seat. The moment Rafe’s truck was on the road—music blaring through the vehicle—you’d grabbed Topper’s hand.

He didn’t protest at all when you dragged it across your thigh, pushing his fingers between your legs.

…and that was how you found yourself watching Rafe, keeping your eyes on him not because you actually wanted to, but because you didn’t need him looking over his shoulder. Even if he did, it was dark, but still, you weren’t exactly emotionless as Topper slid his fingers in and out of you. Your lips were parted, and your chest was heaving, and even though all that could really be heard was whatever rap song Rafe put on, you were still pulling your lip between your teeth.

You reached out to grip the door handle when Topper added another finger, his hand soaked in you, and you reached down to place your own hand on top of his. You spread your legs a little more, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lifting your hips a bit. You were thankful for the music, certain that if the truck were quieter, they’d be able to hear the wet sounds of his fingers pushing between your folds.

He pulled them in and out of you for the duration of the ride, just slowly stroking you and teasing you. Every time you started to tighten around his fingers, he’d stop, just letting them sit there long enough for you to come down from a high that quite never happened. Like clockwork, he’d start moving his fingers again, and he only fully pulled them out of you—underwear snapping back into place—when Rafe pulled into his driveway.

He'd sucked them clean by the time Rafe and Kelce opened their doors, and when your boyfriend saw that neither of you were moving, he paused. You crossed your arms over your chest when he glanced at you, throwing him a frown.

“I need to talk to Y/N for a minute,” Topper told him, and Rafe only scoffed.

“Please do,” he mockingly said, tone full of arrogance as he wrongly assumed what the conversation would be about. “…because I didn’t do shit, and I’m tired of your sister blowing things out of proportion.”

That last part was aimed at you, and you only coolly met your boyfriend’s gaze before he slammed the door shut.

“He’s such an asshole,” you mumbled, staring at his back as he walked away. “I’m breaking up with him. For good this time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Topper’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, we both know how much you’ll hate having me all to yourself again.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before you turned towards him, reaching to slip your hand down his pants the moment Rafe was inside of his house. Wrapping your fingers around Topper’s cock, you slowly stroked him, uncaring as to how risky that was. You were just angrier than you ever were at the realization that Rafe didn’t appreciate how gracious you’d been, and how many other girls would’ve dumped him months ago for everything he’d pulled. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe respected you less for it.

That realization didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would…because you’d long stopped respecting him in return.

You moved to settle in Topper’s lap, facing away from him as he lifted his hips enough to only just pull his pants down. One hand was pulling at your panties, yanking them aside just in time for you to sink down onto his cock. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he filled you up, throbbing inside of your heat. It was almost too easy, courtesy of his fingers and how wet he’d made you.

You lifted yourself slightly, moving over him and hanging onto the headrest of the driver’s seat while Topper lifted his hips too. His grunts and labored pants were a little loud, but that was only because you were alone. Rafe nor Kelce was going to hear anything from all the way out here in a closed vehicle. You clung to the seat harder as you thought about Rafe’s haughty tone and that challenging look in his blue eyes, so certain that you’d never do to him what he did to you.

So certain that you’d never have the guts.

Speaking of, it felt like you could feel Topper deep in your stomach as you rode him. His hands were tight on your waist as he bounced you on top of him, cheeks grazing his thighs with every movement. One of those hands slid around you, reaching under your dress and resting on you, fingers rubbing over your cunt.

“You’re doing so good, babe,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet truck. “Just like that.”

You knew that this couldn’t take long—and Topper knew it too—and feeling you come around him always sent him over the edge, so your eyes rolled when he started circling and dragging his fingers across your clit. He lightly pinched it, making you jerk, and the fact that you were fucking him in Rafe’s own backseat had you coming hard.

The broken moans that tumbled out of your mouth should have embarrassed you, but you were too concerned with sliding yourself up and down his cock, squeezing him tight and making him come too. Topper wrapped an arm around your neck, pulling you back against him as you came together. Knowing that you’d stayed out here long enough, he was gently pushing you off of him the second he started to soften.

You could feel him dripping out of you, and you hurried to put your underwear back in place.

“Did you talk some sense into her?” was the first thing Rafe greeted you with the moment you both made it back inside.

You ignored him, hearing the tone of Topper’s voice as he said Rafe’s name. You knew that it would just be another useless talk of him almost begging Rafe to do better. The older blond never listened to his friend though, and you knew it didn’t twist Topper up too much, always happy to make you feel better when your boyfriend fucked up.

He took advantage of it every time.

Like now, for example.

Your hands clung to the railing of the back porch, head bowed as Topper drove into you from behind. Rafe was asleep in his own room—Kelce asleep in a guest room—and you couldn’t help yourself. You needed him again, sneaking into his designated guest room and begging him to fuck you. He was never one to protest, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you against him while murmuring something along the lines of ‘not in here’.

There were too many people in the Cameron household for him to touch you on the same floor as everyone else.

You kept pushing yourself to your tippy toes, thighs squeezing together with every slow stroke of his cock. Rafe’s t-shirt was pushed up your back, and the light slap of skin against skin reached your ears as well as the wet sound every time he slid between your folds. When he leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm curled around your waist.

“You love this,” he murmured, nipping at your ear. “You love fucking me right under his nose…especially when he really pisses you off.”

If you’d tried to deny it, the way you tightened around him would’ve exposed the truth anyway. You did. Rafe underestimated you, and you loved proving him wrong, especially with his best friend of all people. You moaned, pushing back against him at that. Topper only chuckled, twisting a hand at your roots and pushing you back down over the railing again.

After coming around him twice, the insides of your thighs were embarrassingly sticky, and when Topper eventually stilled against you, pumping you full of his cum, that only made your predicament worse. When he pulled out of you, you reached down to wipe away some of the mess, fighting to catch your breath and reminding yourself that you’d have to make a stop to the bathroom before rejoining Rafe.

Topper was silent the entire ride home, and unlike with Rafe, you had no one but yourself to blame in this situation. Whenever you happened to glance over, you’d catch sight of his clenched jaw, cold blue eyes—so much like Rafe’s—focused on the road. His knuckles were white from the strain of his skin pulled taut over them, a death grip on the wheel of his jeep.

You didn’t speak because there wasn’t much you could say.

So fed up with Rafe’s blatant disrespect—and the pitying looks the odd girl threw you at the party as he danced with some stranger—you hadn’t thought of who else you’d be hurting when you grabbed the nearest guy and pressed your lips to his. You were so far gone with the alcohol, and the satisfaction you’d felt only drove you to close your eyes at the feel of his lips moving against yours.

It had also caused you to momentarily forget about your boyfriend, a misstep that was quickly remedied when you found yourself covered in alcohol.

Several of his friends—Kelce included—had been struggling to hold Rafe back as he tried to make his way to you. His angry shouts could be heard over the music, and you suspected that the bloodthirsty glint in his blue eyes was what drove your poor unsuspecting victim to slip away. Watching him get further out of reach only drove Rafe crazy…until his angry gaze landed on you, as if just remembering your presence.

He was screaming at you, calling you every name in the book, and you’d taken a step back as his friends struggled to keep him from getting to you. Only one stood off to the side, and when you remembered Topper’s presence, you hadn’t been able to keep the sheepish look off of your face. Adopting the older brother role, he’d quickly stomped towards you, yanking your arm as he pulled you along and away from your enraged boyfriend.

“I think its time you call it a night,” he’d evenly said.

That was the last thing he’d said to you, holding you as you stumbled to his car.

When his phone rang again, cutting through the silence in the vehicle, he finally answered it.

“Rafe, she’s drunk,” Topper told him the minute he picked it up. “…and you can’t act like you didn’t have this coming a little.”

You shifted in your seat, thinking to yourself that you’d gotten back at Rafe many times over. You didn’t hear what your boyfriend—possibly ex-boyfriend—said on the other line, but it was loud, and you could pick up on his tone. Topper chuckled to himself, and if you hadn’t been looking at his face, you might’ve thought it was genuine. His frustration with both Rafe and you—mostly you at the moment—was all over his face.

“There’s a whole list of shit you’ve done while drunk or high. You can talk to her tomorrow,” he told his best friend, meeting your gaze. “I’m handling it, so if you come over, I’m telling you now I’m not answering the door.”

You looked out the window at that, swallowing at the venom in both his voice and his gaze.

Your parents weren’t home, out of town for the weekend, and you were never more grateful, certain you’d never been this drunk in your life. Topper was still ignoring you as he helped you inside, and when you stumbled away from him, leaning against the table by the entrance, you gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Before you could do it, he was dropping to his knees, angrily taking off your shoes. You flinched at the way he threw them across the room, slowly rising and staring you down. The house was quiet—too quiet for comfort—and you licked your lips.

“Topper-.”

“It’s already bad enough seeing you kiss him and be with him and fuck him,” he spat at you, pointing outside. “Even worse when he treats you like shit, and you just won’t leave.”

You frowned at him, tears kissing your eyes.

“I’m…sorry for just hoping he’ll do better…”

“He won’t!”

Topper’s voice bounced off of the walls, and you shrunk away from him as he got in your face.

“How many times does he have to show you that? Why do you still expect better from him, so much so to the point where you’re kissing random guys, now?” he wondered, rearing back away from you with a frown. “Yeah, you wanted to make Rafe angry, but we both know the truth.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together when Topper stepped closer. You could feel his breath on your cheek as he exhaled through his nose, the atmosphere tense.

“Rafe’s mad because you dared to play his own game,” he slowly whispered. “I love you, and we both know it’s me you’re really with, not him, and I’m fucking pissed.”

You swallowed with one look into his eyes, finally finding the strength to face him, and your heart skipped a beat at what you saw there.

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours, fingers digging into your arms. The sequence of events happened too fast for your drunk brain to catch up with, only gasping when he reached down to press his hand into the small of your back, yanking you closer. If it wasn’t for him holding you, you would’ve tripped over your own feet as he forced you into the living room.

Topper’s teeth nipped at your throat while he pulled at your dress, something Rafe had bought.

“I fucking hate this dress,” he quietly confessed as if reading your mind.

The sound of tearing fabric reached your ears as he forced you to bend back, his arm around you keeping you from collapsing. He kept you against him as he laid you down on the floor, in a hurry to get you at least half naked. His other hand reached behind his head to yank off his shirt, and you only had the sense to hold onto his arms while he kissed along your chest. When his pants were pushed down just enough, he pushed into you with a grunt.

You scratched at his skin at the rough entry, but it took no time for each thrust to become as smooth as they always were whenever he got his hands on you. One of your hands clawed at the rug, and you moaned—loud—when he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck. You suspected that Top had done a line or two tonight, gasping at his uncharacteristically tight grip.

He was fucking you so good that you almost missed the sound of a vehicle in the yard. When you did, your eyes flew open, and you attempted to look around towards the window. You guys were too close to the couch to see over it, and when you whined, pushing against him, Topper only grabbed your hands and pinned them down beside your head.

“Topper, I think…”

You couldn’t get it out, groaning as he curved his hips against yours.

“Fuck him,” he breathed, pounding into you.

The harsh knocks on the door didn’t faze him, and Topper only let one of your hands go to reach down and reach under your thigh. He rested that leg over his shoulder, pushing it towards you as his nose brushed yours, lips parted as he thrust into you. You were dripping around him, teeth sinking into your lip as Rafe knocked on the door again, trying the locked handle. Somewhere, you could hear your phone vibrating…and then Topper’s after a while.

The man on top of you didn’t care, stretching you out, pushing his cock into your tight hole.

“Break up with him, or don’t,” he whispered to you, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your nose. “…but what you pulled tonight is not happening again.”

You drunkenly nodded at him, mewling as he slowed down his thrusts, the sucking sound of his cock plunging into you reaching your ears. You heard your phone vibrate again.

“You know where to find me when he pisses you off.”

[coff33andb00ks]

45 + lando caus i need some angst in my life rn

"Lies. Just lies."

driver + number = drabble <3

angst and lando go together like me and red flag men tbh

warnings: angst, mentions of mental health struggles, accusations of cheating, lando's not a good bf

He hasn't looked right lately. He hasn't looked right since...

Miami, really. Once the exuberance of his first win wore off he's been... Different.

At first you could ignore it. Lando prefers it that way - just ignore it until he's ready to talk about it. He'll always struggle with his mental health, you're aware of that, and over the course of your relationship you've grown accustomed to how he handles it. You may not always agree with how he does, but you can only stand by his side and offer support.

Rather, you would, if he'd let you.

"You don't have to come this weekend," he's saying as he packs up for the trip to Austria.

You blink,freezing in front of the closet. You know that most of the other girlfriends and wives don't go to that race - darling there's literally nothing to do? - but it's one of your favorite tracks. The scenery, the atmosphere... You love going there.

Lando knows this. And he doesn't want you to go.

"Heading straight home after the race, spend a couple days with the family," he continues, either not noticing or not caring that you're looking at him with annoyance and worry. Zipping up his suitcase, he pushes it to the floor and rolls his shoulders. "So I'll see you at mum's?"

Don't say it don't say it don't say it–

"Oh am I allowed to go there?" you ask, surprised at the bitter coldness in your tone. You can remember when snapping like that would have Lando overflowing with apologies and reassurances. Now, he barely flinches, and you feel dread chilling your heart.

"Go. Don't. It's whatever," he says, his jaw tense.

"Lando–"

"I get it, alright?" He grabs the hoodie lying on the bed and pulls it on. "You don't like my family anyway."

"What are you talking about? I love them," you insist.

He snorts, running his fingers through his hair. "Sure."

And you finally snap. Fuck waiting around for him to be ready to talk. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lando isn't meeting your eyes. "Nothing," he says, gathering his wallet and phones. "Just tired."

"For almost two months?" you ask, trying to keep your voice calm. "You've been like this since Miami–"

"Like what?" he asks, and you notice he's growing more tense.

You gesture aimlessly. "This," you whisper. "What happened?"

He opens his mouth and you hear his slow inhale. But instead of speaking, he snaps his mouth closed and shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm just stressed, okay?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Did you cheat on me?"

"Babe no, of course not. I'm just... Tired."

"Not too tired to go out every weekend."

"So I can't have any fun?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"Lando, we–" You stop when you see him grabbing the handle of his suitcase. "Lan–"

"I gotta go. I'll see you in England. Or not."

"We promised we'd talk about problems, Lando," you say, following him from the bedroom. "You said–"

"Lies. Just lies." He slaps a cap onto his head. "Because neither of us wants the truth do we?"

And with that, he leaves, the slam of the door echoing in the apartment.

[xcherryerim]

What You Deserve

Vanessa Shelly x gn!reader

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | 18+ ONLY

Warning: this so short that it’s literally oral sex (to vanessa) , reader is into Vanessa AND Mike. More plot than porn tbh sorryyyy

So, I had this idea FOR A WHILE before i even started writing and i was waiting for someone to ask me to write for vanessa but no one did ☹️ so I wrote it anyways. It’s not my best writing that is because I wrote it in one go to get it out of the way bc i’m overwhelmed with other ideas and requests for jhutch characters. I might re write this in the future we’ll see.

Summary: Engaged in a situationship with Mike, you can’t help but let your insecurity drive you the conclusion that Mike and Vanessa are into each other, that’s until Vanessa proves you wrong.

“Let’s go!” You excitedly cheer as you win the bowling game, only to realize that Mike, your not-so-boyfriend, was too caught up staring at Vanessa to notice that he even lost.

You tell yourself that you’re not allowed to be jealous, since Mike is technically not your boyfriend. Despite the lack of official labels, you and Mike act as if you’re a couple without one. However, there’s no denying that something is going on between Mike and Vanessa, and you don’t particularly like it.

“Oh, good job!” Vanessa said to you, with a cheerful smile on her face that she would manage to fake, just to hide the bitter truth. She was likely looking you up and down, trying to find an advantage to exploit, so she could feel superior to you.

You could instantly tell that her attitude wasn't genuine, so all you could manage was a quick "thanks."

“Actually…” Vanessa said, turning towards Mike, the person she was more interested in, “Why don’t you get a reward for the winner?”

“Huh, yeah, alright,” Mike responded, before walking off and leaving you alone with Vanessa.

“So,” Vanessa said, as she leaned in close to you while still staying just out of reach. “You and Mike are together or something?”

You tried to stay composed and avoid stuttering, even though you knew that she could likely see right through your lie. “I—we—“

“Friends with benefits?” Vanessa asked with a mocking tone, daring you to say otherwise, as she smirked at you.

“You’re better than some situationship,” Vanessa stated, this time with a surprisingly genuine tone. It seemed to leave you speechless for a moment before you struggled to conjure up a response.

So?” you asked, “We’re grown adults. I don’t need your permission to be with whoever I want.”

“Come on,” Vanessa said as she moved forward, pressing her body against yours, taking your breath away. “You need someone mature, someone that takes you seriously.” she continued, smirking at you, obviously knowing how the conversation was making you feel.

“You need someone to please you, to make you happy. I doubt you’re getting any of that.” Vanessa finished, clearly playing into your insecurities, but in a strangely flirty way.

As she stood back from you, looking directly into your eyes, her words weighed heavily upon you. Venessa’s words were both provocative and challenging, yet they aroused an unexpected curiosity inside you. Your heart raced as you considered her proposition, unsure how to respond. She looked pleased with her effect on you, sensing that she had gotten under your skin.

“Maybe I don’t need anyone,” you retorted, trying to maintain control over your emotions and hide your vulnerability. But even as you spoke, you couldn't help feeling intrigued by the idea she presented. Could there be more to you both than just this casual interaction? Was she genuinely interested, or was she simply toying with you?

Vanessa smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Well," she drawled, "I think we both know that's not entirely true." She took a step closer, her scent enveloping you, and whispered, "But you can keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night." With that, she turned around and sashayed away, leaving you standing there in confusion and desire.

“I know you’re doing this because you want Mike for yourself!”

Vanessa stopped mid-step, turning around slowly, her hips swaying seductively. She raised an eyebrow at you, tilting her head slightly. "Oh really?" she asked playfully. "And what makes you so sure about that?"

“Oh please! Do you think I don’t notice how Mike gets around you? I know you guys had something in the past!”

"Isn't it fascinating how people jump to conclusions?" Vanessa retorted, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Just because Mike likes me doesn't mean I like him back.” She crossed her arms over her chest, a challenge evident in her gaze.

"You're projecting your insecurities onto me," she added, taking another step near you. "Admit it, you're jealous. You're afraid I'll take what's 'yours.' But, is Mike truly what you want?”

Pausing for a moment, she stared intently into your eyes, her gaze intense and unwavering. "Mike may be your safety net, but what happens when you want something more?"

“So? Why do you care anyway?” You responded in anger to her treatment.

“You still don’t get it huh?” Vanessa let out a soft chuckle, her laughter ringing in the air like a bell tolling a warning. Her eyes narrowed, her expression growing more serious. "I care because it's obvious you're not happy. I care because I see potential in you, potential you waste on mediocrity." She shook her head, her disapproval clear.

"It's not my business, but if you ever decide to stop hiding behind that safety net and spread your wings, remember - I'm here, waiting." With that, she spun around and strode away, leaving you alone with her words, echoing in your mind. Despite the anger, her words left you pondering. Were you truly settling for less? Could there be something more out there?

“Vanessa wait,” You held onto her wrist. “What do you mean you’re here for me?”

“I think you know what I mean,” Vanessa said with a sly smile, her eyes twinkling in the dim light. "I've made my intentions pretty clear, haven't I?" She took a step closer, her confidence radiating like heat waves.

“I uh, I thought you liked Mike not me,” You responded.

Vanessa chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I never said that," she countered, her lips curving into a wicked grin. She leaned in until her lips were mere inches from your ear. "Besides, Mike is not for you. He's far too predictable, too safe. And trust me, you deserve more."

You couldn’t deny the truth; you were in love with Mike, but it didn’t seem like he was reciprocating your feelings. Now Vanessa was here, and seemingly begging you to be with her, all while exuding a dominating aura.

“And you’re what I deserve?” you teased back, letting yourself be overwhelmed by her presence, yet trying to keep your cool and appear playful.

Vanessa's lips curved into a smirk, amusement sparkling in her eyes. "No, I'm not what you deserve," she said, her voice velvety smooth. "But I'm certainly what you need."

“I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

"That's a bold claim," you replied, trying to maintain your composure amidst the storm of emotions brewing inside you. "But what do you get out of it?"

“A taste of you,” Vanessa replied, making you struggle to suppress your blushing as you felt her hot breath against your neck. “Would you let me?”

You swallowed hard, feeling her warm breath tickling your skin. A tangle of excitement and fear twisted in your stomach. "Are you sure?" you asked hesitantly, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

"Positive," she replied, her voice firm yet inviting. "But bear in mind, there's no going back after this."

You took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. "Okay," you said, your voice barely audible. "Let me taste you too."

With surprising strength, Vanessa pulled you forcefully into the darkened maintenance room, slamming the door shut behind them before pushing you against the wall. Her body pressed against yours, pinning you in place as she devoured your mouth hungrily, tongue wrestling with yours in a fierce dance. Her hands roamed freely downwards, skimming over your abdomen before reaching for your belt buckle.

Meanwhile, your own hands fumbled clumsily at her zipper, determined to reciprocate her advances. Finally, both of you met in the middle, both sets of buttons and clasps coming undone simultaneously. Her panties slipped down her thighs, exposing her wetness to your hungry eyes.

Without breaking the lip lock, Vanessa broke free long enough to whisper, "Do you like what you see?"

“God, you’re so hot.” You said, falling to your knees without a thought.

Vanessa's eyes widened in surprise as you sank to your knees, but she quickly recovered, her grin growing wider. "Good," she hissed, her breath ragged. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

She stepped back, giving you room to worship her. Your hands trembled slightly as they ran over her silken skin, tracing the curve of her hips, and the dip of her waist. You paused at the evidence of her arousal, drawing in a sharp breath. Your fingers parted her folds slowly, revealing the slick wetness that awaited you. Taking a deep breath, you dove in, your tongue flicking out to taste her sweetness.

She moaned softly, her fingers twisting in your hair, urging you on. "Faster, harder," she urged, her voice hoarse. "Make me come on your tongue, baby."

As you obeyed, licking and sucking at her tender flesh, you couldn't help but wonder - was this worth the risk? Was it worth losing everything else for her taste? Oh, but the way she moaned your name was making you dizzy by her siren voice.

As you continued to please her, Vanessa's moans grew louder, echoing throughout the empty hallway. Her hips rocked against your face, grinding herself against your mouth. "More, baby," she panted between gasps. "Give me more."

You did as she commanded, thrusting your tongue deeper into her core, exploring every crevice of her most intimate parts. Each sound of approval spurred you on, fueling your desire. Your hands cupped her full breasts, kneading and squeezing them roughly, eliciting another moan from her lips.

The rhythm of your tongue matched the pace of your thrusts, creating a synchronized symphony of lustful sounds. Suddenly, her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her muscles tensing up. "Ah! Yes! Oh god, yes!" she cried out, her voice strained with ecstasy.

Finally spent, she collapsed against the wall, panting heavily. "That was... incredible," Vanessa managed to utter between gasps. "Now it's your turn."

Before you had the chance to properly stand up, the noise of the entrance door opening froze you in horror. Slowly turning around you see Mike, standing right there in the doorway.

“Is this where I'm supposed to say ‘How could you?’” Mike replied, catching the two of you standing in what was an obvious compromising position.

“And what I'm supposed to say, ‘it’s not what it looks like?’” you also replied, still trying not to let your embarrassment get the best of you, as you were caught red-handed.

[helluvathings]

A lot has been written on how much Cash Buckzo sucks, but one thing that doesn't come up as often is that he was an abusive father-figure to Fizz too. From what we've been shown so far, it doesn't look like Fizz had other guardians in his life. Cash seemed to be in charge of him post-fire, based on the trailer and his ability to keep Blitzø and Fizz apart. Plus, at Fizz's birthday, when Cash has the "Wish You Were My Son" card, no other parents are around making wtf faces.

And if Cash was Fizz's main guardian, he had Fizz and Blitzø in a textbook golden child/scapegoat dynamic. Pulling from the first site that came up on google (replace narcissistic mother with a more general term):

The Golden Child, as the name suggests, is the best and most wonderful child – at least in the eyes of the Narcissistic Mother. It seems to be that the Narcissistic Mother picks the Golden Child to be an extension of herself... Her most minor achievements are celebrated and held up for admiration.

And:

The Scapegoat on the other hand is, also as the name suggests, the person on whom all the ills of the family are projected. They can do no right. Their major achievements are dismissed. Any money spent on them is the bare minimum and is spent begrudgingly.

It's a dynamic that allows for manipulation of both kids, and it's particularly effective because the Scapegoat acts as an automatic threat for the Golden Child. If they step too far out of line, that could be them one day.

Beyond that, though, in The Circus, we see Cash was just as willing to sell Fizz as Blitzø: just for a higher price. And it wasn't even because he valued Fizz more as a person; it was because Fizz--who was probably about ten--had more shows to do. So Fizz has been the star of the circus (Cash outright says he's the main draw) since he was elementary school age, and doing 3+ shows a day at that point; with Blitzø's neglect acting as an implicit threat that if he were to falter or fail, his preferential treatment might be withdrawn.

And this is so normalized for Fizz, that he keeps cheering at the Mammon concert when Mammon talks about exploiting the pageant winners. Blitzø clues in at once, but Fizz has already been blinded to all the red flags. When Blitzø tries telling him he doesn't need Mammon's approval, Fizz doubles down and insists he'll win it anyway: he needs to be perfect. The way Cash raised Fizz all but groomed him to be Mammon's ideal brand baby; to accept Mammon's treatment, and immediately internalize the idea that his worth is directly tied into how well he performs.

Yes, Mammon's intentional manipulation was part of why Fizz felt like he needed to stick around so long; but I'd argue Cash's "parenting" shaped Fizz in a way that led him to accept those ideas so readily in the first place.

Final thought: we don't see what happened to Cash after the fire, beyond the glimpse of him barring Blitzø from Fizz in the trailer. I've seen theories that Mammon eventually separated Fizz from Cash, but I'd find it slightly more poignant if Blitzø and Fizz were parallels here, and when his injuries from the fire kept Fizz from performing at his best, Cash eventually turned from him as well--too impatient to stick around or help him recover. It'd make sense for Cash's character, and it'd only heighten why Fizz felt so determined not to let Mammon down. If he'd "failed" a father figure once, he would've been that much more desperate to please his new one, especially since winning the pageant would've likely saved Fizz from difficult circumstances if Cash had given up on him.

In summary, Cash did Fizz just as dirty as he did Blitzø. Both of them were treated as potentially disposable products: just products of different value. Fizz believed he needed to sell himself to be "good enough"; Blitzø thinks he'll never be good enough. And to put a cherry on top, the jealousy/bitter feelings that came from this dynamic laid the foundation for Fizz to believe the worst of Blitzø regarding the fire, and for Blitzø to assume Fizz would do so with full knowledge of the situation.

[bizarre-blues]

Curious about your shoumob thoughts 👀👀

Apologies for the essay I am about to write you. Genuinely it's a self indulgent ship for me- I don't particularly see it ever happening in canon, but the potential for their dynamic is so severely underexplored that it drives me insane- not even romantically, just in general. I honestly get why at a glance it doesn't seem like there'd be much between them, but this is fanon and I'm allowed to pour my heart and thoughts into my favorite characters. Lemme break it up into two sections. Platonic Shoumob (something I could see as more canon based):

Even being platonic, I do think this dynamic would only show up post canon. Like there's a long period of time where they're vaguely in each other's circles but don't directly interact. On Mob's end, I think this is purely because he's got his own life and own concerns. Sure, his younger brother's friend hangs around sometimes, but it's not his business to meddle around in Ritsu's business. This is really well stated in August's post. But to add on a bit:

Mob is a good big brother + trusts Ritsu

I don't see Mob holding a grudge against Shou for the house being burnt down. Did Shou aim to stir Mob's emotions a bit? Yeah, it wasn't right. It was ALSO to protect Mob's family since Shou knew Claw was sending folks after them. With the bodies of the remaining Kageyama family burnt, Claw would not longer be after the Kageyamas. I think after fully understanding this, even if there are bitter feelings Mob would let em fade over time

What about the seventh claw division? Saying he's disappointed in Mob? Beating up Ritsu to lure Mob in so they can both be captured? First off Shou's insult pretty easily rolls off of Mob's back. Secondly, I think it would be very interesting to explore the dynamic of Mob discovering Shou's part in the seventh division. Again, I don't think this would really come up for a long time, long enough that Mob wouldn't really be a bitter mess about it.

If Mob can find in his heart of hearts that Toichiro is someone worth saving, I really struggle to think he dislikes Shou in anyway.

On the other hand you have Shou. I already talked about how I think Shou would feel a bit in the tags of August's post above. Also, I really like to keep this post in mind too when thinking of Shou's view of Mob.

Shou entirely wrote Mob off in their initial interaction. He saw he had power and was unwilling to use it- therefore was taking the side of a bystander. He saw that as genuinely a crime to waste such protentional. Shou was raised by Toichiro, and even without agreeing with how Toichiro used his power, Shou does agree that power is power and must be used in some way. For him, he needs to use it for justice. That's why, in my mind, Shou was so quick to like Ritsu. Ritsu wasn't afraid to use his powers for what was needed to be done to protect people, even if it was an uphill battle he couldn't win.

Cut to their second interaction. Shou's fighting his dad, Shou's losing the fight- it's barely even a fight with how bad he's losing. In waltzes Mob who's entirely different from the last time they interacted. He's prepared to fight, to protect everyone else since he's the only one capable of doing so. Hell, he even told everyone else to stay away since they'll only hinder what he has to do. Suddenly Mob is aligning with the moral code Shou WANTED to see in him to begin with.

That entire interaction is so short, but it's genuinely so important to me. Mob stands up for Shou, he gets angry on his behalf. Who knows the last time someone did that for Shou, and it's someone Shou had entirely written off.

Last time they interact is the confession arc. Shou sees the power Mob is capable of, how his dad is no match for him when he's like this without it being fatal. It even convinces Shou to lay off using his powers (though idk how closely he sticks to that post canon)

Basically you have this development of complete dismissal > admiration for his moral code? > a warning sign to how dangerous psychic powers can be. Which is insane given that Shou's SEEN how dangerous they can be his entire childhood

I feel like it leaves us in post canon with a LOT of potential for how they might see each other or interact. Here's some of the thoughts that have been plaguing my mind.

I really feel like Shou would have this torn admiration / uncertainty about Mob. Mob is powerful, more powerful than his dad, and I don't feel like Shou fully knows Mob's strict moral code yet. I think that subconsciously he might be a lil cautious around him to begin with even if he doesn't outwardly acknowledge that in anyway

They get to know each other and now there's potential to actually chat about some of this stuff. One thing in particular I like to think about is the power level they both have. Idk the exact power scaling of all the Mob Psycho espers, but I'm under the impression that Shou is pretty up there and will likely only get more powerful with age. Shou and Mob, having this kinda power, have taken such opposite views to it growing up. Mob believing it can never be used while Shou thinking it MUST be used. This is what's inspired the comic I'm currently working on that I'm SO excited to finish up

Also??? this might be ooc but the potential jealousy Shou might have of how easily Mob and Ritsu appear to get along once it's all said and done. Meanwhile his family dynamic is... complex. Shou obviously cares about his dad, but Toichiro will probably not see life outside of prison and I'm certain there's just some oddness between them. Between Toichiro calling Shou a failure and using his powers to straight up fight him, I just feel like it would be complex for Shou. It could really lead to some interesting conflict, especially given Shou and Ritsu being besties

IDK !!! OTHER STUFF TOO!!! Between em I just see a lot that could be said between the two of em.

I feel like when I first joined the fandom I didn't really see much between Shou and Mob. Of the four main esper boys, obvious it's easy to see how much dynamic there is between Mob and Ritsu (the entire show hinders on the trauma they share) and between Teru and Mob. There's also plenty of interactions between Teru and Ritsu. Same to say with Shou and Ritsu since the majority of Shou's interactions are Ritsu centered. But honestly post canon I really do feel like Shou and Mob's dynamic ought to be explored a lot more, even if I must do it myself.

Romantic Shoumob (way more fanon based but hey what can ya do, we have fun out here):

As a disclaimer, I honestly prefer platonic shoumob. HOWEVER I absolutely think romantic shoumob is adorable so I will happily ramble about it. Take most of what I've said above and apply it down here.

In my mind I think it would be Shou who ends up with a crush on Mob. Mostly cause of the amount of emotions Shou has towards Mob post canon, I feel like it could easily develop into a real curiosity towards Mob. Thinks about him a lot and oops, now it's a crush

Also hilarious to me cause I don't think Shou would know how to handle a crush no matter who it was. The classic "writes you a letter that says 'get out of my school' in attempt to flirt" dynamic

Except I really don't think that would work on Mob?? Mob isn't dumb but I really just. Don't think he'd get the hint that Shou likes him. Just knows for Some Reason Shou acts a certain way around him. He'd probably assume he did something to offend or upset Shou somehow tbh

Cue Mob attempting to do things to make it up / even directly trying to ask Shou about it which would only lead to Shou getting flustered or trying, yet again, to keep playing it off

Whenever Mob DOES realize Shou likes him back I imagine he'd get equally as flustered in the beginning. Mostly cause we know Mob is such a lover who is super easily flustered in most scenarios. Very much just! Cute to me

Outside of just the puppy love phase I really do think there's potential for such sweet or dramatic interactions. Again there's all the complex parts of the platonic parts of their relationship, but something significant would be the way that both Mob and Toichiro have this insane amount of power and yet opposite approaches to it.

I think Shou would find a lot of comfort in seeing how gentle Mob could be. I'm also a HUGE softy for the idea of like- we KNOW Shou isn't super soft. He wasn't raised that way, it's not his ideals, there's not many situations where I think he'd feel comfortable having his guard down, even post canon. But I like the idea that Shou lets himself be soft when it's just him and Mob.

No pressure to be anything he isn't, no need to be snarky or guarded, he KNOWS Mob ain't gonna judge him, hell Shou is probably the safest he ever could be by hanging out with Mob. It's all so SICKENINGLY sweet to me.

On Mob's end, I can see him enjoying having someone who understands him in some ways yet has such a different approach to life? Mob craves human connection throughout the entire series, and by the end he has plenty of it, but to have someone who he can have deeper convos about psychic powers in particular with I think would be a huge relief. Obviously there's other folks in his life, but Shou's just from a unique background.

Even more, Shou is blunt and upfront about everything. Communication would come so naturally to them. As someone with autism, nothing is a bigger relief to me than a person who just says what they're thinking straight up.

I can really see a fun balance between them as one person who's calm and kind vs someone who's energetic and chaotic. I feel like there'd be a constant push and pull between Mob's side of simple and sickeningly sweetness and Shou's side of outrageous acts and mayhem.

Hope this all makes sense. Sorry for any typos, I didn't proof read anything. Thank you sm for the ask!

[maxphilippa]

The Cursed Trinity.

and the bringers of the curse.

For more context of these AU's, keep on reading: (long post ahead)

These are the three 'dark' AU's that I have but they're midly tame actually.

I'll explain the lore of them briefly:

La Blade's Place AU: So. The AU takes place two or three years after S2 ends, actually, where Mephone4 finally decided to come back instead of finishing S3 first and Knife won against Lightbulb, and tried to confront Taco, but couldn't since she ran away, but definitely left a good crack on her. Knife was the winner of the season and was more than happy to be back with his friends. Though he hasn't done anything "meaningful" with the money yet, he was more than satisfied with winning. Everyone has had their reasons for competing, but Knife's reasons were a secret. He could finally let himself relax and be comfortable for once in his life, and meanwhile he wasn't entirely social, since he had just a very specific group of people he liked to spend time with, he still didn't mind. He saw people reworking their friendships and becoming better at the end.

He met some new contestants and such, from Invitational, and that, but at one point it stopped due to Mephone4 taking a small break. Or so he thinks.

He doesn't... know. No one knows. Invitational is supposed to continue still. Anyway, Knife is pretty happy with his life. He can finally spend time with Mic and Pickle. And even if he didn't win, that sole fact was like a prize to him.

They're pretty chill and just enjoying to be with eachother. Feelings blossom and... They are there. Knife was planning on buying a house for them to live in- though he doesn't mind Hotel OJ, he would have liked that. Maybe even spend their lifes together. He was just very happy with them and as much as he's the jerk, he fell hard.

They're just pretty happy of being together again.

And everything seemed to be so... normal now. Knife saw how Baseball and Suitcase met Clover. They have visits from Tea Kettle and Liferring. Paintbrush and Lightbulb finally being together again. Everyone was happy. And he was happy too, with the people he loved the most. But Taco wasn't doing so good. Taco was already struggling a lot with losing two best friends because of her actions. Let alone the fight she had with Knife, meanwhile she did rough him up a bit on the legs and is the cause of the missing piece of his blade now, he still made the "most of damage" by worsening the crack on her eye. She was still hiding, but using Test Tube's old secret lab as a hidding spot. She was rewiring MePad a lot more to make him much more of an associate rather than a tool. But she wasn't coping well.

Taco felt like she was left out, forgotten, left to rot because of her actions. But why? She also deserved her happy ending! She... she deserved to be happy, like everyone else! Why was Knife able to get what she always wanted? Why was he able to love Pickle and Mic and... not her? Why was he allowed to be happy? Why couldn't she have that? Why was she left alone with no friends, with no one to care about her...? Why was the jerk the one to get all of that? She tried to change, too. But Knife was the only one who got that treatment in the end.

He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of it, she thinks.

Perhaps it's her bitterness showing through, or how much she just hated Knife after their last encounter where he tried to save MePad but failed, perhaps is how much she hates him, perhaps it's how betrayed she feels by both Pickle and Mic, how much she resents the other contestants, how much she hates this fucking show that made a joke out of her, how much she despises it. How much she hates Knife and... herself to an extent.

She think he doesn't deserve it because she wants that. Knife didn't work his ass off for years to get his friends back just to pull them that easily.

And it would get even worse when she found out that they were... you know. Something. She found out since she has been stalki- checking on her two ex-friends, and from the isolation, Taco ends up snapping.

And this leads to the destruction of Hotel OJ, Pickle's death, and Knife going on a hunting mode just to make her pay. A lot more of stuff happens but that's for other posts.

Wired Mic/Rewired Mic AU: An small what if 'Mic wasn't able to save Knife from the fall, leading him to his death, and that makes her realize that what Taco was doing was messed up."

Microphone was shocked over the fact that she saw her friend die thanks to her, and Taco tried to reassure her that it was for the best, but Mic ended up cutting ties with Taco. This hurted Taco but she decided she couldn't let it happen.

So she shots Mic with her gun and that knocks her out. Shortly after, she decides to rewire her in order for her to not leave her side. Meanwhile, Knife was stuck with Lightbulb in the waiting room (where contestants go as they wait for Mephone4 to revive them), and was processing his first death. But he was worried about whatever could happen to Mic and what Taco could do. Once they get regenerated, he's fucking worried and processing everything still, and went to check on Mic, but she was so...

Different.

She wasn't Mic anymore. It's like someone changed her forever.

CIT / Clock Is Ticking AU: To put it shortly, in Burgs's own words when we were developing this AU yesterday, it's basically a swap between Mic and Pickle but Mic gets hurt in second-hand.

But it's actually more complicated than that.

So the main thing with this AU is that:

Pickle ended up reading Taco's letters and made his way back to her. Only to never be seen again.

So it happens shortly after S1 ends + once Hotel OJ is completely done, Pickle was still sensitive and grieving over losing his best friend. So he's not coping well.

Knife notices this and tries to be there with him, and tells him that Taco isn't worth the trouble, and that she made her choice when she did all of that. But Pickle didn't want to believe it. She was his best friend! Someone he loved so very much! She... she didn't mean it. She wouldn't, right? But he decides to listen to Knife and... begins to get closer to him too. And he really finds his company enjoyable. They became good friends, Knife being there whenever he felt down, even if Knife considered himself to not be great at this type of stuff, he was still there for Pickle. But... Pickle didn't feel right even then.

He felt like something was missing. But he was moving on. He felt like he didn't need Taco anymore.

He was okay.

Until the letters came.

He didn't say anything to Knife since he felt like the poor guy was probably tired of his problems and had his own, so he kept them as a secret in the start. He threw them out the first times since he really didn't want to fall for it, but... the longer the time passed... the pain and how much he still missed her took over?

So...

Maybe just one look at them wouldn't hurt, right?

With sweet little lies (that's what Knife says), words of regret and fake hopes, Taco's letters infected his brain. Every single one of them was her apologizing and asking him if they could maybe talk it out. If they could have what they had back then. Pickle couldn't stop thinking about them.

And he kept on getting those again and again. How sorry Taco felt, how she never truly meant it and how she cared about him- how she loved her "best friend".

Pickle...

Pickle started to consider it.

So, without telling Knife anything, he writes an letter and sends it to wherever Taco might be. He says that he's willing to chat things out, but that he's waiting for an response.

And Taco... replies to the letter, actually excited, after months of writing, she got a response. So she replies with a letter that says a place and hour where they could meet.

Pickle receives the letter and... he feels... weird. This isn't what Knife told him to... this isn't what they told him to do. But... would it really hurt anyone? If he just talked things out with her? Knife didn't know her like he did... he tries to make excuses for her, even when Knife told him that he's worth much more than the treatment Taco gave him.

But even then... he still cared for Knife. Knife was his best friend too.

So he spoke to the blade one last time before going to talk to Taco, only for him to never come back again.

The chat was rather emotional,

Since Pickle thanked Knife for everything and hugged him. It didn't surprise Knife since the vegetable was usually a pretty affectionate guy once he got comfortable with someone.

He just wishes that he asked where he was going before Pickle disappeared.

Pickle found Taco in the forest, and she seemed to be just like before. But it was too good to be true, he thinks, so Taco notices that and decides to talk things out with him properly. So far, she was apologizing for basically using him, and for the things she said to him. Pickle felt his heart break at that, since even if he was... slowly healing, he still wanted to hear that coming from her own mouth.

And perhaps she meant it. Or perhaps she did not. Pickle doesn't know, but he wants to believe that she did. Pickle forgives her at the end, and Taco notices that he's in a vulnerable state. And maybe she needed him. Maybe, she noticed how attached she got to him in truth. That's why she was writing letters for months. She wanted him back at all costs.

So Taco offers him to stay with her and run away.

Of course, Pickle is fucking shocked at that, since they only worked out their things recently, and that was... so much to do, actually. He didn't want to leave his friends.

But then again. Taco wouldn't dare to lose him. Not again. Not ever. He was the only friend she truly cared about. So just before Pickle was about to decline, she quickly used an weakness of his in her favor: how naive he was and how he tried to see the good in his friends at all times.

Taco was... his best friend, and she apologized. She could have her reasons to ask him about that.

But.

Convincing someone that you're all that they need and that their friends were only lying to them out of pity isn't exactly something a friend would do, right?

Pickle told himself, "I'm just going to stay for a bit, it'll be okay",

And that bit became days.

And those days became weeks.

And those weeks became months.

And those months...

Became years.

He wasn't like good ol' Pickle anymore ever since that time passed.

Even if Taco truly cared about him in a way, she got him back.

And he's completely loyal to her thanks to her lies and manipulation.

Because no one else could truly ever care about him. Or that's how he felt.

Taco needed someone to win the prize and, who's the best option for that when your best friend is also your associate and alliance member? Someone who you know would never dare to break your loyalty.

Because you're all that they have at the end of the day.

Shoutout to @burgycreeper405-blog for helping me develop these au's too like she's a real homie love u mate you're so cool

[btr-rewatch]

Big Time Rush Season 1, Episode 11: “Big Time Jobs”

I remember this one being one of my favorite episodes. Excited to rewatch it!

Highlights: The boys set out to make some dough. Also: Mirror Realm Alter Egos, the worst sign-spinners on the planet, and sentient coffee makers.

We begin with the guys preparing for the "Palm Woods 500 Invitational All-Terrain Decathlon Classic." The first one to run around the building and ring the bell at the front desk wins a large homemade trophy made of boxes covered with shiny wrapping paper with a colander on top. Very fancy.

Also, Kendall doesn't pronounce "decathlon" correctly. He says "discathlon," which, as far as I've been able to tell from briefly looking it up, isn't a real word. I mean, it's something you could chalk up to in-universe as a term the boys made up on their own, but this is probably just Kendall Schmidt flubbing the line.

The race goes about as well as you'd expect.

Carlos is declared the winner!

An enraged Bitters then tells the boys that they have to pay for all the damage they've caused, which amounts to $2,000 (and 30¢). Gustavo is NOT happy that his dogs have gotten themselves into so much trouble. He's sick of them breaking things, which leads us into a montage of some of the things around the studio they've broken in the last several months. Shout out to my favorite part of the montage:

Because like...why. Why is James singing a taunting song about having a smoothie? Why does this make Kendall so upset that he feels the need to smack it straight outta James's hand? There's missing context here. James and Kendall were definitely just not getting along that day, and this was the final straw.

Anyway, Gustavo tells them that they have to pay him his $2,000 back, and until they do, they're not allowed in the Palm Woods pool. In order to come up with $500 each, they're going to need to get jobs. This is horrifying news to our boys.

Carlos gets stuck being Gustavo's production assistant, and James Kendall, and Logan return to the Palm Woods to do some job searching. After reading through a listing of horrible jobs, Kendall and Logan set out to become sign spinners, and James finds an ad for "the new face of Cuda." Obviously, he thinks this is the perfect job for him.

This leads into that bizarre but delightful scene where he talks to himself in the mirror, but it's like...some sort of alter-ego with a slightly deeper voice??

Mirror James: "Look at yourself! Who's handsomer than you?"

James: "No one!"

Mirror James: "Who's got more style than you?"

James: "No one!"

Mirror James: "Who's smarter than you?"

James: "Well, lots of people. But that has nothing to do with being a model."

I mean...he's right. What a himbo. Katie appoints herself as James's manager, and the two of them set out to take the fashion world by storm.

Meanwhile, at Kendall and Logan's sign-spinning job:

Yeah, they get fired pretty quickly. Also, can I point out that one of my first thoughts upon watching the above moment was how close they came to possibly being hit by cars?? If either one of them had fallen to the street instead, they would have died. And it would have been in the stupidest way possible. Cause of death? SIGN SPINNING.

And we're not even too far into this episode yet, but I'm enjoying this Kendall and Logan storyline. I don't think there have been many moments thus far in the series where it's just been the two of them paired up ("Big Time Crib" is the only one that comes to mind), and I like seeing them teamed up for some shenanigans. I've always had a soft spot for the Kendall and Logan dynamic, especially when it comes to Kendall's ability to help Logan let loose. I feel like...Logan feels the most secure with Kendall? Which makes sense because Kendall is the leader, but still. It's nice to see Logan come out of his shell a bit, and seeing him act all goofy and over the top with Kendall as they (horribly) spin those signs is one of those moments.

Onto Carlos's story! He's been told to get a coffee for Gustavo, and can I just say how much I love the "Carlos does battle with a coffee maker" plot? This boy is given such a simple task: get coffee, and this machine proceeds to make his life miserable for the rest of the episode.

I'm not sure how many people currently in the fandom were also on Tumblr back when the series was on, but there was this popular BTR blog that consisted of posting beautiful, aesthetic pictures with ridiculous quotes from the show on them. That was the whole blog, and the fandom loved it. There are two specific ones I remember, and I've recreated them here so those who didn't get the original experience can see what I'm talking about.

The BTR fandom sure was something. Wish I could remember what the blog was called (though I'm not sure it'd even still be up).

While Carlos fights for his life at Rocque Records, Kendall and Logan return to 2J to try to find new jobs. After reading off a series of ridiculous options, Kendall has his own idea

Before Kendall can drag Logan off to the nearest hospital to have their kidney's extracted, there's a knock at the door. A woman has come to ask if Mrs. Knight is home and can watch her son, and Kendall agrees to do it (she'll pay them $20 an hour). This gives the guys the idea to offer a babysitting service in order to earn the money they need. They quickly have lots of eager parents lined up to take advantage of their convenient service.

Over at James's modeling job, he quickly realizes that he ain't the only pretty face in town.

They have a brief "face-off," but James is no match for all the handsome in the room, and he just like. Passes out.

Over at Kendall and Logan Babysitting Services Incorporated, things quickly fall apart. Unable to handle the energy of eight kids, Kendall and Logan end up tied to chairs. Mama Knight comes to rescue them, but she quickly flees the premises after.

We return to Carlos for a moment to check on how he's doing, which is Not Well. The room is being filled with foam, and unplugging the coffee maker does nothing since it has a "reserve power" mode. Carlos also causes it to activate its "self-defense" mode when he smacks it several times.

Down at the Palm Woods lobby, a depressed James is sipping a smoothie. He sadly tells Katie, "In Minnesota, I was 'The Face.' Now, I'm just 'A Face.' I'm just a handsome grain of sand on an extremely beautiful beach."

Yeah, so he's doing great.

Meanwhile, Kendall and Logan are having a day

They decide to put the kids' energy to good use and have them run a car-washing service while they sit back and collect the money.

Back at Rocque Records, (wow, this episode is busy) Kelly discovers the catastrophe unfolding in the break room and freaks out. When Carlos says they have to destroy the machine, she protests. That is, until things get personal.

"Kelly is dumb. Women are weak," the coffee machine says (it also calls her "cupcake"), to which she and Carlos promptly charge into the room to attack it with a bat and microphone stand. Together, they defeat C.A.L.

Katie gets James another modeling gig for Cuda—an elbow model for chapped elbow cream. James is not happy. He angrily model-walks away.

However, he's stopped in his tracks by none other than Mirror James, who tells him to embrace the job and his beautiful elbow so they can get back to the pool. James agrees and returns to the photoshoot.

I cannot get over the Mirror James stuff. Does this happen in any other episodes?? I can't remember. What is WRONG with him?

We then go to wrap up the babysitting plot. All the parents come to pick up their kids while Kendall and Logan happily take the payment owed them after a day of such suffering.

And with that, the guys have earned all the money needed to pay Gustavo back! It took them less than a day, lol. But they only have a few seconds to celebrate before an angry mob descends upon them demanding pay for all the additional chaos caused in their money-making attempts. Among the charges are a fine from the city for running an illegal daycare, destroying that coffee maker (an $8,000 prototype), and the cost of James's wardrobe from his modeling gig. So, when all is said and done, they've paid Gustavo back the $2,000.30, but now they owe him $14,089.

Gustavo flips his lid, starts destroying things around the studio, and gets caught by Griffin, who tells Gustavo he has to pay him back all that money. We end the episode with Kelly, Gustavo, and the guys all running a car wash at the Palm Woods.

There's so much to love about this episode. Disaster follows these boys wherever they go. They cannot have a normal day if they tried.

[poupeesdecirque]

"Tainted Dolls" - And how I handle them

I have mentioned on IG I want to actually blog more, write down my thoughts and impressions to get things out of my mind and share my expierence. This is a rather personal entry on how I handle dolls that got "tainted" in some way.

With "tainted" I mean difficulties that I came across during ordering, receiving, working with other artists, postal services and maybe my own standards.

The pictures above all feature some different dolls that got tainted for me, I have a lot more some carry heavier weight, some have lost their tainted status/I forgot about it, some are old, some are pretty recent.

If you are interested in those please read ahead.

Let's define what kind of dolls truly fall under the "tainted" term for me with examples and how I handled them ever since. Not doing all that's... too much of negativity to deal with rn. Starting with some ages cases and moving on to more recent dolls to see how things can develop.

Before I start I can tell I always try to give the doll a chance, to win my "love". There was one case I but the doll/head on sale after unboxing because I was so disappointed, let's start with that one.

Elisa - Unoa Lusis FP - Wrong Colors

With Elisa it is... Ara was my main Face up Artist for years but I wanted to expand a bit. After Nathan (Elisa's BF) was painted by Lynsey and it worked greatly I send Elisa's FP off to another local Artist to paint her. The photos looked great and I always wanted a cute Unoa.

But as I unboxed the FP the colors were completely off, nothing matched to the photos, the artist was baffled insisting the photos were correct. I put the FP on sale right away ... she was bought by said face up artist .. well.

I can tell I later on got my Unoa Lusis with the most beautiful Face up I think this was a gap to fill.

Now to the dolls that got a chance with me:

Samuel (LM Little Bear) - Goodbye head?

Samuel's 2nd shell was send to Canada for a Face up by Belladonna. I absolutely adored her style & her circus crew but I wasn't in for what was upon me. She went mia. Alright I knew she did that from time to time - I tried anyways. But she went really mia on doll forums but was super active on Instagram and I actually made my IG account back then to get in touch with there as she didn't reply to mails or PMs. She told me the same over and over again if she didn't ignore me or pretended I never wrote her. It took me months of back & forth to get him home after treatening to open a paypal dispute after the time she told me like 4 or 5 times "he'll be ready by the end of the week" but poured out Cosplay photos and was super active in everything but not this commission. In the end I finally got him back 3 months overdue. After I ordered a replacement head because I was certain to never see this head again.

As I got him back I instantly loved him and all the hassle was almost forgotten. I can tell he is a very tame case of 'tainted'. The replacement head was send to a local artist whom I trust a lot to paint him as casual variant. Ever since Samuel is fine for me.

There are several other cases in which issues with the Face up artist left a bitter taste for me, may it be the Artist being incredibly weird, taking forever or me getting back dolls unfinished, some of the dolls are doing great, some still have a bitter vibe, I won't get into all here. I can tell that the majority of the ones with face up issues are indeed dolls I am not doing much with, I take them out here and there but don't 'feel' it. Why don't I sell those? Well I still like the dolls and it's not like they feel anything, I can put them on display and still think they look nice.

Captain - Dear Mine Gorgi - Wrong delivery

Captain was a curious case, you might wonder what was wrong with the little fella?

Well it was that this was his first unboxing ....

Yep, I got send the wrong doll. I was devastated. But gladly Dearmine helped out, I was allowed to send the doll back, they paid me the shipping and shipped out the correct doll later. This got happily resolved and Captain doesn't feel tainted for me anymore.

Weirdly Tyki arrving broken/bend on arrivel didn't taint him for me, just in case you were wondering.

Artists going MiA - What about my doll?

I'll put these two together as they are similar.

First case here is a "happily resolved" I will start with that one. The doll in question is my ZeligenArt Anglerfish. Marie went mia from time to time, updated here and there. But after a year and her being mia for some time I made a callout post asking if somebody had heard of her as I knew she had some of the dolls in for a while. She got to me within hours, send my doll out the coming week and even gifted me a 3D file of a bjd. Which was the BJD Shark (Hanke), the whole transaction ended well and I like the doll, it's not taken out much but it's a fish anyways, that's okay.

Second case is the infamous Bulbasaur from Into the Deep Dolls. I never have expierenced such a liar of an artists in before. His bad luck was that Ara had an order going on as well and I could call out his lies af of "postal service is not operating in your country" as Ara got the order in a day prior. It was fight as the order date had passed any protection in the end I got the doll tossed some paint onto it, not even posted a boxopening as I hated it so much but felt bad when I would sell it as it's fanart of a series and made me torn from the start. I didn't even look at the doll for over a year.

Until my hobby burnout came and I somewhat decided to try everything to make it better.. Pumpkins helped. I repainted the little thing.

Now it's on a better display and taken out for photos even.

The Storyteller - DC Alva - Perfectionism and the Burnout done

Coming to more recent or interesting cases here. The Storyteller. What is wrong with him? I can tell my own personal standards. I projected a lot into his, I was hyperfixated on this character, everything needed to be perfect. As I failed to paint him myself I send him out to theUgliestWife who did an amazing job painting him. But upon arrival none of his eye made him look like what I wanted him to be, he looked DEAD to me. I have to say he arrived during the time my hobby burnout was happening and every little bit was enough to make me wheep. (I will get to the worst case here after him)

The photoshoot above is the 2nd take of the first try, the first is still so ugly to me that I can't look at the photos. The 2nd photoshoot is okay-ish but still feels icky.

I tried over and over again, had him ob display next to me, every time I changed things and took photos it felt wrong and dead. But I loved the character, I think in 2023, after 2 years of having him, I finally resolved the issue. He is easier for me now, the taint still swings with him a bit. But photos feel more natural. I think the main point was retaking the photoshoot that started it all.

So that's how he now feels for me:

At least as doll, the character is still not back to full force with me, OCs are hard to me. But I need the distance I guess. Maybe one day I will get into them again.

The UPS Desaster & Hobby Burn Out Triangle

What finally had led to my hobby burn out might be that photoshooting with the Storyteller as last drop but a big chunk of it was the UPS Desaster.

To make it short: these three dolls were shipped in May and arrived in August. They arrived in Germany in May. I live in Germany. They were scanned each day by UPS over and over and over again, 3 hours from where I live. The dealer (Angelesque) helped from the other side trying to free the parcel. After almost 3 full months in transit I finally got the dolls (I had to treaten them with a lawyer...), pissed off because I wanted to work on them to get them to the sea with me, I was super into merfolk around that time and even ordered one more which got tainted as well, but well they came in too late.

I pulled through customizing all three dolls at insane speed because around that time I kinda had a mental race going on with having them done upon arrival to be one of the first to have that type of doll finished ... I have literally no idea why that was a thing for me but it somehow developed. This was not possible anymore and my little shell got more and more cracks. I completely burned myself out by doing insane mods on them (breast removal by hand, additive mods, bodyblush for 3 dolls, 2 of them 70+), face ups, hair, photos. I was drained for my full summer break and beyond. I tried to get into things again but nope. Then the thing with the Storyteller happened. OCs seemed to be cursed for me, they didn't spark joy anymore. That's when I turned into fandolls again and pumpkins.

Kaneki saved my ass and Pumpkins helped, a few dolls (OCs) arrived around that time I never really got into them. Those are Tamani and Leopold.

They fall into the Triangle, I never was able to develop their characters as they somehow hit a negative nerve for me. I really like them as doll they are pretty to look at. What got me out was my DC Enoch arriving, scrapping making him into a OC (he was planned as Guardian for the Storyteller and uh... nope not happening), turning him into Clown Mana saved my hobby ass and got me back into the hobby along with D.Gray-man. Things got a bit lighter and I even got 1-2 "fresh" dolls after that but not for a "race" like I did in earlier days.

But a doll whom I ordered during the high time of the Burnout was Eeske my DC Beacher

She kinda got the treatment of "okay I will customize you but toss you in a corner afterwards" and I still kind of treat her like that. I will eventually come back to her when more time has passed.

This whole ordeal peaked with ...

Preorders out of Hell

These have different stories and this still hurts as they are super fresh .. but alright. Imagine you just had the whole Bulbasaur fuckup that leant into UPS being the most horrible shipping service and ultimately getting into a hobby burn out here. This all within a span of several months.

Pumpkins and D.Gray-man were my safety zone here. I got several preordered, got some heads, all fun and stuff.

1 - Pumpkins by Mirror. Not Mirror's fault she shipped my order in time but ... the postal service ate it. She replaced the order and 1 year later I had it and she even gifted me the other two heads. I can tell the little pumpkin Patchlings are already 'green lit' for me and have lost their tainted status.

2 - The failed Lavi.

Picture here is Lavi's 2nd shell as I am still super pissed towards the artist of the first shell. To make it short: Preorder happened, Preorder had problems with the Casting. Got promised a solution (that was Other caster with Body), solution was cancelled because "It's impossible to make such a body" (yeah they promised to make it without people needing to pay what was not that smart to begin with but alright, I would have paid for a matching body) ALBEIT happiliy posting that they made up a body in no time on their media. Preorder forth and back, got told "I will write each of you what we will do" - Refund without any further word. While we were mutuals. Artist pretending nothing happened towards me, Refund was less than what I had paid because of the exchange rates, I didn't get any apology, they got protected by the community, I got told to shut up. Ultimately I blocked the artist everywhere for my own sanity. And my mind will hate you if you support such an asshole behavior. End of story.

I got a replacement for Lavi because I want to have him as doll, I want to get over with this but he is still super hard for me. I am not sure if this head will work but I will try.

3 - Vampire Pumpkin not so much fun

Okay you have two lost pumpkin heads in the mail, a preorder failing on you and then a preorder going on for 1 year already with the artist ghosting you for two months.

This was not fun, I got Sokrates after some very questionable mails on my side and then ... UPS. Trying. the. same. shit. as. with. the. mermaids.

But this time with the artist (aka sender) not cooperating with helping me to free the parcel. I played the lawyer card right away as I was still getting flashbacks from the mermaids. As he arrived after 1 1/2 years after I ordered him I pushed him back on my working list for almost a year. I painted him inbetween to "do" something on him but well.

He is now a full doll and working on him yesterday was not a "yay he's here" but more "oh lord he is here finally this shitshow will end, come on I just want you to be done to put you into a dark corner and forget you exist".

The whole thing resulted in me pushing back ordering dolls/bodies for the heads I got as I wasn't able to deal with shit anymore. I turned to making more clothes for the dolls I have, finish my own head, pour more time into the customs overall. And got Cosplay sewing back to my mind. Yes, Cosplay is now my way to cope when the Hobby turns its back on me.

I mean there are things that frustrate me, but if I am the one doing it (aka being stupid while sewing) I am at fault and can try again later, I want to give my dolls a chance too. Ultimately I get up when I fall, I like my dolls.

I think the best way for me is to cool down for a while, set them aside and try again later on. The later could be the next day, month or even years later.

Some never will reach the status others have, some always will have a bitter taste to them. Some turn into fun dolls to have, some into favorites maybe. It's different from doll to doll.

[kritischetheologie]

Perspective Flip - EWTRTW

July 3, 2022

The sound of boos over the German national anthem is straight out of 2013, so much so that Nico half expects the Austrian to follow it, until the opening notes of "God Save the Queen" send him back to the present. Seb looks the same in victory as he always did, though, wild-eyed and hungry, curls matted with sweat, index finger raised to the sky.

Nine years ago, Nico learned for the first time what it feels like to win at Silverstone, to beat Lewis in equal machinery in his home race. But he hadn't yet thought to imagine fucking the boy who stood next to him on the podium that day, let alone being fucked by the man he would grow into. Back then, Sebastian had been nothing but a blur in the distance, a target to chase. He wouldn't really become a thorn in Nico's side until he and Lewis started both beating him. The irony of that makes him smile, these days.

Seb disappears to wash off the champagne, while Nico gives a few interviews, defending the stewards' choice to only give a time penalty and reminding Sky Sports that Lewis celebrated at Silverstone too, last year, when Max was in hospital no less. He congratulates Pierre and Alpha Tauri on the second-place finish. Then, finally, he heads back towards the British racing green of the Aston Martin motorhome, where his new championship leader should be waiting for him.

He's about to open Seb's door when he hears Lewis's unmistakeable accent on the other side.

"--this sport has rules and norms," Nico hears Lewis say, in a tone that's painfully familiar. Lewis sounds like he's back on his soapbox, the chip in his shoulder on full display again. Like he didn't just get handed a title he hadn't really earned. "And they’re the only thing keeping any of us alive, and you completely disregarded them today, and frankly, it’s a little–”

“I’ll tell you what I think it’s about,” Seb interjects. Good on Seb, to not let Lewis wind himself up any further. It's time to de-escalate the conflict. “I think you couldn’t stand to see me win at Silverstone, in your home race, when you’re barely scrapping for single-digit midfield points.”

Oh, Christ. That's the opposite of de-escalating. Nico knocks on the door with a sigh.

“You forget that our headquarters are in Silverstone too, these days," Seb continues. There's no response to Nico's knock, not that he was really expecting one, anyway. "It’s not just your home race anymore, it’s ours." Nico can hear the frustrated edge behind his smug tone, the note of actual hurt. Seb's going to say something they'll both regret if he doesn't break things up.

He opens the door and quietly slips into the room. Neither of them notice him, squared up to face each other with their jaws set angrily and their fists balled at their sides like they're a moment away from taking a swing at each other or diving in for a kiss. Nico crosses his arms in frustration as he watches them.

"And you may have the FIA wrapped around your little finger, but you don’t get to tell me how to fucking drive,” Seb spits.

"That's enough, Sebastian," Nico says. Seb should know better than to get caught up in Lewis's bullshit, especially on a day that's supposed to be all about him, but he's always given Lewis too much of himself.

In unison, they turn to face him. The expression on Lewis's face-- self-righteous and bitter, with that too-familiar shading of arousal thrown into the mix-- is straight out of 2015. Some people never change.

"Lewis," Nico says, more calmly than Lewis really deserves, "you know you’re not allowed in the Aston Martin motorhomes." It's a sharp reminder that they're not kids anymore, and that they're not peers anymore, either. Nico has every right to tell Lewis to get the hell out of his driver's face, even if Seb won't do it himself. “I’m going to need to ask you to leave, and I’d highly recommend you do it soon, because I would hate to have to call Toto and get him involved in this little scene.”

Something inside of Nico soars as he watches Lewis's face crumple. Bringing Toto's name into things is a twist of the knife, but Nico never said that he was perfect, only that he's long outgrown Lewis.

"You can go fuck yourself," Lewis says, on his way out, the last retort of a man who knows he's lost.

Once he's gone, Nico turns to Sebastian, who looks equally deflated, now. Would he have rather have Nico not break things up, and let him and Lewis tear each other's clothes off? The thought of it makes his mouth turn sour.

"That wasn't very sportsmanlike of you," he says. "He’s having a rough season, you should go easier on him.” Nico can't keep the smugness out of his voice entirely. Sebastian is the one winning the championship, not him, but sometimes-- especially on days like today, when he can see how well he's coaxed out the killer instinct he'd always known was still in there-- it feels like the victories are his, too.

Seb's eyes go wide in his face, his lips turning down into a pout. “You were right about him not being able to handle me winning,” he says, quietly, like it costs him something to say it out loud. “I wish you hadn’t been right.”

Nico knows, by now, what that face means. Sebastian doesn't know how to ask for what he needs, but he does know how to demand it. “I wish I weren’t right a lot of the time,” Nico says, as he places a hand on Seb's shoulder, gripping a little tighter than a team principal really ought to. “Especially where Lewis is concerned.”

“I don’t want to fucking talk about Lewis anymore,” Seb says, like clockwork, leaning in to crush their mouths together. 

[basorexia-formyboys]

SFW 2005

Baji×Draken Part Three

Content warnings: Moderately detailed throwing up, mention of self-injury and self-murder, angst (eventual comfort)

Throught the entire morning of October thirty-first, Baji felt on the brink of throwing up. He hadn't slept for a single minute the night before and his entire body felt like he was electrified. The noiret went as far as not touching people just in case the lightning he felt beneath his skin was actually there. It wasn't a hard task anyway, he wasn't a touchy person especially with Valhalla.

The feeling got landslides worse when they arrived at the junkyard. To an extent that he genuinely had to tell Hanma he'd be back and walk a bit away from Valhalla. The junkyard was long abandoned so it wasn't like he was harming anyone by emptying his stomach about thirty feet away and hidden from the gang he was reluctantly a part of.

He hadn't ate breakfast that morning nor dinner the night before, only smoked and drank after being slightly peer pressured by Hanma and the other uppers of Valhalla to do so. What his body produced due to that was a bitter mix of bile, beer, and stomach acid that burned Baji's throat and made Baji wish he'd brought something to wash the taste from his mouth.

Lucky for him, the masked teen 'Choji' seemed to be the most.. normal (though even calling him that felt questionable) of the gang and had brought himself a bottle of water he planned to hide and grab after the fight. Choji was also the one Hanma sent to go make sure Baji wasn't running off back to Toman.

"Here, don't drink too much or you'll throw up again. You can have it." Choji was short spoken but weirdly caring. Was it caring or just a baseline standard of acknowledging other delinquents as humans with lives and not just cattle for Choji to slaughter? No matter which, Baji let out a raspy gratitude and did as told.

With the first mouthful, he spit it right back out after swishing in hopes of completely removing the burning bitterness. He drank the next half of the bottle and mumbled another thanks after the bottle left his lips. Choji just gave a short nod and began to walk back with Baji on his tail.

All he needed to do was get through this fight. He had no issues sparking infights in Toman before so he would just view this as no different and make Kisaki his main target. In his mind he was still a Toman captain, he was just sparking his usual infights, and Kisaki was a Valhalla member that Baji needed to destroy. That is how he would see this all. That's how he would get through this.

Valhalla walked in when they were introduced and Baji kept his eyes far away from Draken. His planned way of thinking was already failing him and got even worse listening to Draken lay out the condition that, should Toman win, they'd be taking back Baji.

Of course it made him happy they wanted him back, but hearing Draken say that made it all the more meaningful. He was never going to get over this crush was he? Every time Draken made him feel special or important or wanted around, the noiret's cheeks got hot and Baji was damn glad that he didn't visually blush easily. He loved Draken so much but he would never be more than a friend. That's what ruined him.

Luckily Baji had, over the past few days, began to channel sadness into anger. Not at Draken of course. It could never be at Draken. But Valhalla held short spar meetings and Baji had realized that thinking about how he'd never be allowed to love Draken openly made him all the more ruthless. He'd nearly maimed one of the general members by zoning out on reality and into those feelings.

So when both gangs shot off towards eachother, Baji just kept repeating the saddening fact in his mind. He would never get Draken's love, so why not get his hate instead? The noiret wouldn't be able to be just Draken's friend. It'd hurt too much.

The first person he punched was sent absolutely flying and the other Toman members realized that this wasn't a mid-fight turnaround, Baji was genuinely against them right now and they needed to fight their first division captain.

So they did and things happened almost like a blur to Baji. He was nearly too deep in his thoughts to process the things around him.

Hitting Kisaki with a pipe, getting thrown down a little over half a dozen cars, Chifuyu trying to stop him from fighting Kisaki, Kazutora stabbing him, him playing it off and saying it was only a scratch, him fighting fifty Toman members of the third division, him holding a sharp pipe to Kisaki's neck, collapsing, blood, Mikey, Kazutora, his butterfly knife.

And then he was swinging it down while everyone was frozen. At least the noiret thought it was everyone.

"BAJI" Draken yelled, bolting in the direction. Baji was already swinging down but, just like with Osanai, Draken's sense of saving those he cared about was almost inhuman. The blond's hands grabbed Baji's wrists tight and stopped them mid swing. Baji couldn't move his arms even if he tried.

Baji couldn't look up at Draken but he saw the tears from the other as they fell. It didn't take long at all for Baji's eyes to sting and his own tears to succumb to gravity just the same.

"I don't know what the hell is going through your mind but suicide is not the answer. We need you here, Baji. I need you here." In a short moment of emotional weakness, Draken whispered in desperation for the amber eyed 'traitor' to not try to continue the self sacrifice.

"I'm sorry" Baji's words were just as quiet but nearly whimpered out. He didn't fight Draken pulling the knife from his hands and just let them fall to his sides when they were empty. Draken pulled him into a tight hug, both of them just listening to Mitsuya yell for Toman and Valhalla to leave as soon as they all began to hear sirens. Very soon it was just Baji, Draken, and Kazutora. Mitsuya couldn't help but watch from the gate everyone else left through.

"You have to survive this, please." Draken wasn't one to be desperate or cry or even hug people all that often but Baji was so fucking important to him.

"I'm sorry" Baji choked out another apology through gritted teeth and Draken shook his head. "Please leave and take Kazutora, I don't want either of you arrested."

Draken didn't want to leave. He couldn't leave. Baji could vouche that Draken wasn't the one to stab him. Mitsuya revealed himself and hurried over, helping Kazutora stand and holding a hand out to Draken. The blond got the message immediately and only pulled one hand away for just a moment to hand over the knife. Mitsuya basically dragged Kazutora away and managed to get out of the junkyard seconds before the ambulance and police arrived.

Baji was quick to tell them that the person who stabbed him had ran and he was even quicker to describe Kisaki as the assailant rather than Kazutora. Draken didn't argue with that because the blond trusted his fanged friend and figured there must be some reason for it that could be explained in private later. Both absolutely insisted Draken ride in the ambulance too.

Draken's tears fell faster when he watched Baji's eyes fall shut and heard the heart moniter let out one long beep. He curled up with his knees to his chest in the seat to stay well out of the way of the first responders and could only pray that Baji survived.

The vice commander understood panic and mourning brought out new colors of a person but this felt so much more than that. It felt like he was losing a part of himself. A very important part. More than Mikey, more than Toman, more than Emma even. Why did Draken feel like a terrified child?

If he'd been old enough to remember his mother's abandonment, would even that feel this strong? Draken didn't think so.

[brionysea]

current bnb status? like how many chapters r done / close to being done and what are some scenes ur working on now ? :3

hi hello!!! i was about halfway through drafting part 3 (i don't want to say chapter - they're Lengthy parts, there would be about 5 chapter breaks within each part if i was doing chapters) before i got distracted by the realisation that I Can't Write Whump. how do people write whump? i came here for the emotions and the trauma processing and now i have to write a character getting physically pretzled? rude

anyway, as of right now the plan is... 7, 8 parts? somewhere around there. part 1 is about 95% done (i'll probably get on that last 5% next time i pick up writing bnb again - dustin is being The Brain Cell Friend and he will not wait long); part 2 is like, 50% done, but that's mostly because writing a character realising their own mortality within the context of a pre-determined scene from the show is difficult and feels repetitive and stale in contrast to being able to just Make Stuff Up; everything beyond that is pretty mentally laid out by now but it's a bit haphazardly existent, writing-wise, and it's certainly not edited. max gets a speech at the end that makes me cry though. i have to break from the perspective character (mike) (he's a bit busy Antagonising The Antagonist at the time) (he does that a lot, it's concerning. where are the survival instincts? is he not paying attention to the moral of the story? it's that running is okay, mike! that's how you survive in stranger things!!!) to pull that off but i don't even care, it's so worth it

as far as scenes that are currently In Focus in my brain:

there's the dustin thing i mentioned. mike gets to catch him up on the Mike (And El) Are Being Weird part of season 3 that he missed out on in real time via distraction by russian conspiracy theories, which is always fun because dustin tends to listen when mike talks and he's been pretty distinctly kept separate from any and all Mike Is Being Weird parts of the show for a long while. because he is too smart and would figure out that that's Important, actually. writing what (if anything) he would do about that is going to be fun, because i wasn't really thinking about him before but now that he's here he will not be ignored. dustin also takes the time to battle mike's anxiety with flawless logic and wins, because dustin is amazing. i really love dustin and the lack of dustin&mike interactions is criminal

the other part that's currently in rotation, which i haven't actually gotten around to writing yet because of the pretzling (i won't provide details or context, it helps with the immersion :)), is max and mike being friends. aka the point of this whole endeavour if i'm being honest. they can allow themselves to be suicidal, that's fine, but if their friend tries it? right in front of them? tries to die right in front of them where they can see??? what an idiot. what a stupid idiot who needs to be saved from their own idiocy right away. get hugged, idiot. don't die. (<- if i'm being even more honest, THAT'S the point. teen suicide allegories vs the power of friendship. get friendshipped, idiot) (is this mostly me being bitter over the optics of Suicidal Teen Max Mayfield dying seconds after she realised she wanted to Live, Actually? maybe so. i hate that trope, even if in this case it's temporary death that does actually work for the allegory. let traumatised characters recover)

one thing i've noticed is that i have this inclination to try and make the wheeler family better? ted is a bad father, that's easy to roll with, he sucks, but i think about nancy and my brain is like Make Her A Good Sister (especially when she's good at solving puzzles and mike is very much a puzzle right now, but that's the case in the show too and she still Doesn't Really Care), or i try to write karen and my brain is like Make Her A Good Mother, which... she's trying, at least, but it's. it's quite hard to find that balance of well-meaning and still-doing-damage. because i know they're not a good family to mike but apparently my subconscious disagrees with that on principle and thinks he deserves one, established characterisation and relationship dynamics be damned, and that's just !! it's annoying!!!! i'm trying to do an accurate character study here, which includes the Not Fantastic family dynamics!!!!!! wanting to give mike wheeler good things and accurately writing about mike wheeler's life are not easily compatible goals and it's very irritating

anyway. this last part will probably mean nothing (yet), but i keep being tempted to finish and publish the first part even knowing that that would kill my motivation to actually finish writing the rest of the story (don't ask, the demand-supply part of my brain is broken), just so that people can see the bedroom window scene. i am So Proud of the bedroom window scene it's unbelievable

[eternal-love-song]

Slow Forward Steps

Maki has a hard time moving on from the killing game.

[Maki/Shuichi] [Post VR AU, Coping, Crushes, Maki POV, NB Shuichi]

Written for @dr-rarepair-week-blog

Maki cuts her hair two weeks after waking up. She sees the image of herself everywhere, the assassin girl that killed two people and managed to win the killing game. There are posters of her aiming a crossbow at Kokichi, advertising to join Danganronpa, and they make her feel sick every time she sees them. The girl in the mirror isn't the person she wants to be, she's a killer that never atoned for her crimes and everyone around her let her get away with it.

Kaito may have saved her, but he also enabled her. He allowed her to close her eyes without having to change and even though it wasn't his responsibility to change her, she still resented him. He made it his responsibility and then did nothing for her and then he died.

She's being too harsh, she knows that. But she's bitter and mad at the world and if she's going to hate herself then she sees no reason that she can't hate him too.

So she cuts her hair.

Initially, she chops it off unevenly in a fit of rage and recently, and then ends up crying on the floor in a pile of hair. Kirumi and Kaede find her that way, pick her up, brush her off, and tame her hair into something more manageable. Something cute. Her hair just barely brushed her shoulders now and when she looked at it, she thought of the people that had helped her to create it instead of the girl that had wanted to kill until the very moment every kill had been stolen away from her.

Shuichi tried to talk to her before they were supposed to be released from Team Danganronpa's care, but refused him. He had failed her too, by being too weak to stand up to her and too much of a yes man to tell her off. Even as she thought that though, she knew that the real reason she avoided him was because she thought she would make him worse. Shuichi was very easy to influence and absorbed those around him like they were water and he was a sponge. She didn't want him exposed to anymore of the black bitterness that seethed in her heart.

They provided her housing. As one of the winners, she was entitled to that, financial compensation, and a handful of other prizes that she wasn't remotely interested in. She accepted, of course, because she didn't have anywhere else to go. The upside to this was that it was one less thing she had to worry about. There was security, since DR contestants were basically celebrities, it was all paid and furnished for her, and it was just isolated enough from the rest of the world that she could shut everything out if she wanted to.

The downside was the fanmail. Even when she said she didn't want it, DR still left bags of fanmail on her doorstep that they received for her. The letters made her sick. It was a wild mix of admonishment and praise, but the worst was one letter she could never forget. It was one of the shortest letters that she'd received, the person just telling her that her character inspired them to sign up for Danganronpa. She cried when she read it and resolved to burn all the mail she received from that point forward.

They wanted her to do interviews. She wasn't obligated, but as a "winner" it was highly encouraged, meaning they called her at least three times a week asking her to change her mind. It didn't really matter whether she did or not. Within a month of leaving the game, there was a lookalike of her on tv doing an interview anyway. She didn't know if Team DR had hired an actress or if it was an imposter, but it pissed her off all the same. It made her feel sick and sad and sour in her soul. She kept thinking of inspiring people to sign up for a killing game and she wished that she could punch her past self in the face.

She bleached her hair, a platinum blonde color that she kind of hated, but was the furthest that she could get from the way she looked in game. She made sure to never wear red or black. She was the furthest from her in game that she could think to be and she hated every minute of it.

No one recognized her when she went out, but she recognized herself. On billboards, in video clips, sometimes she even saw her likeness in ads. It was inescapable some days. She stopped going out, just so that she could avoid as much of it as she could.

Three months after the end of the killing game, she got a visitor. Maki didn't get visitors. She hadn't talked to anyone in weeks and no one had come to talk to her. She pushed Kaito and Shuichi away, and neither one of them had tried to reach out to her again. Probably for the best, but she wasn't sure what she felt about it regardless.

She almost didn't recognize the person at her door. The girl had long dark hair, with bangs that almost covered her eyes, looking nervous and gripping the strap of her purse for deer life. A few moments of careful inspection made her realize that it was a wig and the dark eyes that were looking at her were contacts.

Maki narrowed her eyes in suspicion. What do you want?"

Surprisingly, the girl seemed to relax when Maki spoke, standing up straighter and smiling weakly at her. "H-hi. I, uh, hope that I'm not bothering you?"

It was only the voice that clued her in and even then , Maki had to do a double take. "Shuichi?" It wasn't just the wig and dress that made him nearly unrecognizable. He was dressed in a soft yellow with sunflowers on it, bright colors when all she had ever associated him with were dark.

"Um, just Shui, if you don't mind?" He shuffled in place a little, keeping his head down and hiding his eyes behind his bangs instead of a hat.

"What are you doing here?" She wanted to say that she didn't know how he had found her, but if anything about him had been true, then he was either a detective or lived with one, so it wasn't that hard to imagine. And even if that wasn't true, she didn't imagine Team DR would hide her location from other participants if they asked.

"I just… didn't want to leave things as they were," he admitted. "Can we, um, can we talk?"

Maki debated for a moment, taking a step to the side to let him in.

Shuichi shook his head. "I'd prefer it if we walked, maybe? If that's okay."

Maki raised an eyebrow. Even if it was weak, even if he was keeping his head down and his voice was shaky, this was still more than she was used to him being. Well, outside of trials at least. It was odd though, he was n't the person she remembered from the killing game nor the person that had been with her at the end. That person had been a mess of trembling limbs and then ended as hard glares and a firm voice. The Shuichi in front of her was neither of those things, and yet, somehow both?

"Sure," she said, stepping out of her apartment and locking the door behind her. "By the way, what's with the whole…" she gestures at him.

He blushes, holding onto the strap of his purse as he shrank. It was actually kind of pretty on him. "It's, um, kinda complicated?"

Maki continued to give him a skeptical look. "What's so complicated about it?" she asked.

"W-well…" he looked around for a moment, then he very determinedly started walking away from her. She blinked in surprise as she followed him. "You changed your look too."

Maki's eyes widened. "Are you saying this is your normal look?"

His hand clutched the strap of his purse tighter. "Sometimes, I guess?"

"Sometimes," she repeated. Maki continued to stare at him and though the hold on his purse only got tighter, he continued walking ahead as if he didn't notice it. Maybe it's because she had been by herself for a while, her instincts and intuition being dulled by lack of exposure, or maybe she had always lacked a certain awareness of others, but it took her far too long to put the pieces together. They had walked out of her apartment and were nearly to the park ten minutes away when she blurted out her thoughts. "Are you a girl?"

Shuichi ducked his head again. "Maybe. Kinda? It's not really… that's not what I wanted to talk about."

Shuichi stopped walking, turning on his heel to face her. "I've been asking around, you haven't talked to anyone, have you?"

Maki guessed that she shouldn't be surprised. Being nosy went hand and hand with being a detective and Shuichi… Shui… had always been on the nosy side.

"Why do you care?" she couldn't help asking.

The expression on his face instantly morphed into hurt, familiar enough that she could see his in game self beneath all the changes. "We're friends Maki, of course I care."

"But I said-"

"You were hurting," Shui said immediately, stepping closer and reaching out to take her hand. He hesitated for a moment, but only a moment before gripping Maki's hand between both of his. "I'm not going to hold something against you that you said just after waking up from the most traumatizing event in your life."

Maki's eyes were glued to their hands. She wasn't really sure what to do with this. In retrospect, she knew that she had always been a pretty bad friend to him. To him and to Kaito. She didn't think she knew how to be a better one. "You'd be better off without me," she told him. She believed that pretty firmly.

Shui shook his head. "I don't care. You wouldn't be. I don't like that."

Maki couldn't help but stare at him once more, thinking of how much they had both changed. In Maki's case, the changes were all superficial. She had short hair, she was blonde, but inside she was the same scared and hateful girl that she had walked into the killing game. Whereas Shui… so much about them was different that she didn't even know where to start. Yet, so much was the same that she still found some comfort in his presence.

"Sometimes," Maki said, looking him over once more. "I never took you for a sometimes yellow kinda person."

Shui laughed, seeming a bit more at ease. "Yeah, the dark colors don't really feel at home to me." He looked down at their hands again, stroking the back of her hand with his tum. It felt oddly intimate. They'd never touched much, had they? "Sometimes, it's just to escape the crowds, you know? They're… everywhere and they always want to bring up the worst things."

Maki nodded. She did know. She wondered if Shui got fan mail like she did. "It sucks."

Shui laughed again. "Yeah, it does. Sometimes, I just want to escape myself. Other times, it's like finding myself." He looked up then. "So yeah, complicated."

"I don't think that sounds all the complicated, actually," she told him, smiling.

The look of relief and joy that lit his eyes was unexpected as was the way it made her heart pound, just a little. Maki hadn't realized how much she was used to him looking miserable. Seeing joy on his face, there was something very pretty about it.

Shui tugged on her hand. "It's just a disguise today. Mostly. I wanted to get ou out of that place and I didn't want anyone recognizing me and saying something."

Maki smiled more as she followed him. It was almost novel to be dragged around by him of all people. This could have never happened in the game and something about that made it all the more special to her. She held onto his hand just a bit tighter. She wanted to know who this new Shui person was. Maybe she wouldn't make him worse after all. Maybe the only kind thing she had ever managed to do for him had been giving him space after the game.

"Hey," he looked over his shoulder at her. "Let's have a good time together."

Something about the sincere sentiment had Maki's cheeks heating up a bit. She couldn't hold his gaze, but she nodded all the same.

"Y-yeah. Let's…"

[harrietvane]

i am very ~intrigued~ by 1899 but i'm trying to decide whether the emotional devastation of not getting a satisfying ending will outweigh the joy of watching the show itself. do you think it's worth it to start it knowing it (probably) won't ever be finished?

Oof, this is a tough one - it depends on your own metric for emotional devastation, I think? Biggest YMMV in the world. Let me try and paint a picture without too many spoilers..

So, for me, while i was very annoyed at no renewal, but i wouldn't say i was the specific kind of devastated you get at an overt and unresolved network TV 'who got shot' cliffhanger? Like, spoiler-free, it does end in the way a serial story 'ends' with a Holy Shit What's Next, and not in the way a movie 'ends' with a sunset ride or whatever: it's an explicit set-up for anticipated future activity (which we'll not now ever see), HOWEVER my own feelings towards it have allowed me to start a rewatch, as opposed to rage-quitting. In my mind, any of the things i hoped for in Season 2 or 3 are still on the table, in a strange way. They won't be shown to me visually, but they're not prevented by the narrative as it exists now, and where/how it stopped. They're just out there, in the ether. I have no need for fix-it fic for the way it ended, but rather 'what-next-fic'.

It's not a spoiler to say it's sci-fi, rather than just a costume drama, but I feel it has things in common with the way Westworld HBO used to end its seasons - they were always flexible enough to act as series finales if needed. Like, they would always end on a note of 'Gasp! and what NEXT!', but also if they happened to get cancelled and stop there at the point of Dolores gaining sentience, or the hosts escaping the park, even though you'd still be hanging out for 'but goddamn i WANT to know what next', and yet it would kind of feel resolved in a way also? Something had still been achieved in each season finale, and the next season set up was laid before you, on a note of 'now what??'

Idk, I never fully watched Lost, but I feel like people got into that show in 2 ways: some folks were obsessed with the puzzle, and had to know The Exact Meaning of each weird thing and needed Answers and a sense of Guessing And Winning to feel satisfied in the show. Other folks simply became fixated on the personal dynamics, and really commited to how each characater gradually revealed more about the kind of person they were, and how they relate to each other within the specific weird boundaries of the story. You'll enjoy 1899 if you're along for the ride re: the second type, but if you're the first type, and have to Know, and value things like 'canon', it'll bug you, probably.

Like, this is possibly my own tendency to make lemonade out of shitty, bitter, network cancellation lemons, but i approach it as one very long Twilight Zone story - it ends in a way that is an Unresolved Resolution. Something was ultimately achieved, and then gently set down without following on. Like short story chock full of 'what ifs and what nexts', it presents them to you, but ultimately leaves them unexplored in full.

In this show, Hercule Poirot is never going to come out and explain it all to our full satisfaction, but if Rod Serling came out and and said 'wow did you see that! that was messed up! anyway, this has been the Twilight Zone', that wouldn't be out of place. It Ends without ending.

[interlvgos]

Oh I wanna hug and slap George already.

Okay. So. Lewis's number 9 (oops, 8) in 2023 means that 2022 happened the way it did, which means that they did struggle together and. Ok no wait let me. Oh oh oh okay look we know that George has been higher in the standing in 2022 with the horrible car, right. But we also know that that's mostly down to Lewis's sacrafices in terms of letting them do the experimenting on his car during the first half of the season, plus the general amount of bad luck. So it's not really saying all that much. But still, enough people out there are now thinking that with a great car the title fight would be between George and Lewis and George now has his Mr. consistency reputation.

What if, in the tp au, the 23' fight isn't Lewis vs George (knowing that Lewis wins that dwc) but Lewis vs Max or Charles or both. Or all three. Meaning that George only really comes close to winning when Lewis is gone. So that hurts. Or even if George vs Lewis was a part of it, it still wouldn't have been enough. And George thought he'd be okay with that! Because it's Lewis, so no shame in losing. And he never wanted to be that kind of teammate who's bitter. But then again that is the nature of the sport and they are competitors and they did have the same car and George thought he'd stand a chance against Lewis in a fair fight, but it turns out that ultimately he didn't, not enough to best him -- So that makes the legacy painful, yeah??

And then, 2024, with Lewis gone, he still doesn't win, even though now he feels or everyone feeld that he really should have. You said Max wins? PARALLES??? Tell me it's fraud number 3.

But god, none of that is on Lewis. It doesn't make sense to blame him and it's so unfair but George doesn't deal well with everything, he's just not okay, he can't help it, it's just how he feels, resentful, bitter, frustrated, cynical, whatever - when really he's just angry with himself.

IT'S SO GOOD. IT'S NOT OKAY, IT'S SO TOXIC, BUT SO GOOD. Because how is Lewis supposed to handle that, right? None of what George might throw at him is something he's actually at fault for. But will he be able to be level headed about it? When he sees history repeating with yet another person who meant the world to him turning against him because of his success? You know?? But also - does he allow George too much, maybe, because on the one hand he is his boss now but on the other hand he is his boss now and he doesn't want to pull rank and make things worse, he doesn't want to let his own emotions compromise him??

Ok I could go on but I think I'm being incoherent af so I won't, for now, but yeah can you tell I'm excited

ANON <3333333333333333333 i love u. over and over again. incredibly lengthy reply under the cut and also a tiny sneak peak of chap one:

george isn't in contention for the WDC in 2023, but he's definitely up there and aligned with what people expect from mercedes. He's got a decent car behind him and he's got raw talent, everyone knows he does, but lewis is still lewis and george still has so much to learn.

And he doesn't compare himself to Lewis, because he's the first to tell you lewis is the GOAT - i mean, that's canon anyway LMAO - but he just so desperately wants to prove to lewis that he's got what it takes, that he's worthy of the mantel lewis is inevitably thinking about handing over, and that mercedes is in his safe hands when he's gone.

i don't want to reveal too much, but i can say george comes very very close in 2024 to beating max and it's by his own volition that he doesn't. and everyone had expected him to, george and mercedes and the fans and fuck, his performance has been so dominating in a way nobody expected from him necessarily to happen so soon, but lewis left and george had the heavy weight of mercedes' expectations dumped on him that he had no choice but to step up, to be better, and so he does.

but it still isn't enough. he doesn't win the WDC, and at the end of it all it doesn't matter how close he comes, he doesn't win. he bottles it when it mattered most and it's something a lot of fans don't forgive him for, because it's nobody's fault but his own. there's no car worthy of blame, this time, it's all on george and he suffers the consequences for it.

and it sucks him down, pulls him under and doesn't let him back up for air, the disappointment he knows he's caused evident in the way people look at him, how they speak to him, how his team keep him far away from social media in the weeks after Abu Dhabi. his safety net with lewis is gone, along with the man himself, and george is so alone with it all that it consumes him, forces himself to put up walls he's never had to before just to come through the other side with his soul intact.

he doesn't entirely succeed.

but you're right, none of it is lewis' fault - lewis doesn't owe george anything, and george knows that, somewhere in the depths of himself he knows lewis doesn't owe him a single thing but it's easier to resent him for leaving him all alone than to take a look at himself and take ownership for the choices he's made that's gotten him where he is.

but then lewis isn't not at fault entirely, either - he sees hints that george is struggling, not enough to solidify it for him, but enough that he has to actively ignore it to stop it from clawing at him. he sees it and he doesn't do anything, because they're not together anymore and it's not his problem - george isn't his problem - anymore. and if it keeps him up at night, if he can see the hollow look in george's eyes and the pretty porcelain of his smile so painfully fake to all who know him when he shuts his eyes, well. nobody but him will know about it. he doesn't do anything not because he doesn't want to, but he doesn't think it's his place to, but george doesn't know that.

here's a snippet from lewis' decision to rejoin merc as team principal, and you'll see what i mean:

"When he sees history repeating with yet another person who meant the world to him turning against him because of his success?" anonnnn this hurt so much!!!! because at it's centre this fic is a story of misunderstandings and trust breakdowns between two people who, at their core, still love one another so much but don't ever talk about it. lewis thinks george is turning against him because he can't deal with failing to follow in lewis' footsteps, and george thinks lewis left him all alone to deal with the pressure because he simply didn't care enough about him to stick around anymore.

IT IS... KINDA TOXIC ICL. but i hope it doesn't put anyone off, because it's so much more nuanced than that (but i totally get if it does lmao) and i hope it's an enjoyable read.

thank you so so so much for this ask, i couldn't believe it when i saw it in my inbox sjdnkjasn i'm SO glad you're excited about it cus i really am!!!!

[drabbles-mc]

Tagging Out (3)

Steve Murphy & OC Diego Ramírez

OC Diego Ramírez x F!Reader

Whumptober 2022: No.9 The Very Noisy Night- Sleeping In Shifts

Part 1, Part 2

Warnings: language, smoking, angst, Bitchy Steve Murphy

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Every time I write for this universe I fall more and more in love with it lmao. This is a little bit of a diversion from the main plot because of whumptober. Think of it like a filler episode haha. I think that outside of his dynamic with Reader, Diego’s dynamic with Steve might be my favorite. I also can’t wait to eventually get into Reader’s dynamic with Connie. I have so many plans for all these little characters I love them so much.

Narcos/Diegoverse Taglist: @ashlingnarcos​​ @garbinge​​ @narcolini​​ @mysun-n-stars​​ @nessamc​​ (If you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

When they both received the assignment, neither of them was exactly excited about it. Diego was a little more gracious about it than Steve had been, but that was surprising to no one. Steve had enough pull to be able to be outwardly bitter. Diego was still fighting for his life just to be taken seriously at all, let alone have people care about how he felt about the divvying up of work. 

The two of them were walking out to Steve's car. Diego could tell that Steve didn't want to be the one driving, but he also didn't want to ask Diego to drive either. He wondered how long it would take for it to feel like he was in a position where there was a way to win. Months of lose-lose scenarios were getting exhausting. 

"Let's go." The way that Steve said it left Diego wondering if he was saying it more to Diego, or as a form of self-encouragement. Diego played it safe, electing to just give Steve a nod before climbing into the car, and settling down in the passenger seat. Steve wasn't looking at him as he slid the key into the ignition. "You've done this shit before, right?"

Diego's polite facade faltered for a moment as he registered what Steve had really just asked him. "A stakeout? Yea," his sarcasm broke through, "once or twice I think."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Just asking."

The part of Diego that was fed up wanted to snap and remind Steve that he's been in Colombia far longer, that Steve was essentially a glorified tourist if you stepped back and compared the two of them. But that wouldn't get him anywhere. It would just make matters worse, and he really couldn't afford that at this point. 

"I'm new to your team, Agent Murphy," he chose his words carefully, "but I'm not new to police work."

Diego saw the shift in Steve's facial expression, but he didn't give the declaration a verbal response. Steve just continued to go through the motions, placing his hand on the back of Diego's headrest as he turned to reverse the car out of its spot. Bringing his hand back, he threw the car into drive with a little more force than necessary. 

A majority of the drive passed in silence, which worked just fine for both Steve and Diego. Steve focused on the road, and Diego spent the drive rereading the files of the men they were supposed to be looking out for. The instructions for the stakeout were clear. It was just about gathering information. There was a very short list of people that the two of them were allowed to engage with, and that was if they even showed up. Diego briefly wondered if the list would've been longer if he was partnered with someone other than Steve, someone who stuck out just a little less. It wasn't worth thinking about too much— there was nothing to be done about it now. 

"Where'd this lead come from anyway?" Diego asked, eyes still locked on the folder in his hands. 

Steve turned and looked at Diego for a brief moment, not having expected the question. "Came from," he gestured vaguely, taking one hand off the wheel to do so, "one of Javi's informants."

"Hm." Diego nodded in acknowledgment. 

"What?" The defensiveness in Steve's tone was impossible to miss. 

"Nothing." Diego didn't miss a beat. "Was just wondering."

"Right." Steve's drawl always seemed thicker when he wasn't being genuine. 

The building that they pulled up outside of was pretty unassuming, but that seemed to be the case with a lot of these places. That's why they had so much trouble tracking these guys down and bringing them in. Diego was taking in what he could of the building in front of him, the number of floors, the windows and doors that he could see, and what others he assumed would be built in. He was scribbling it all down in his notepad, not even aware of the fact that Steve was staring at him as he did so. 

"Drawin' a fuckin' blueprint over there?"

"No," he didn't match Steve's sarcasm, "But no harm in having some of the specs."

"We don't even know if this is legit. Besides," for once his frustration didn't seem to be aimed at Diego as he said, "not like we're allowed to go in anyway."

"Unless something happens. And if it does," he set his pencil down and looked over at Steve, "I'd rather have some idea of what we're walking into. Wouldn't you?"

Steve knew that he couldn't lie and say no, but he wasn't ready to just start agreeing with the kid yet either. So instead he gave a noncommittal grunt and went back to looking out the window. 

It was boring, the way that a majority of stakeouts were. The boredom seemed to increase with the knowledge that they were just there to vet the tip, not to go in and be hands-on in any real capacity. They didn't talk much. Steve snapped photos of some of the people coming and going, Diego was scribbling down names if he knew them, physical descriptions if he didn’t, along with the times they got there and the time they left.

For a while, the extent of their interactions was one of them asking the other, "You got them?" And the other responding, "Got 'em."

Diego knew that there was no way that Steve was this boring on stakeouts with Javier. He might still be that grumpy because being cooped up in a car for hours would do that to anyone. But they were friends, so they must have at least conversed. But, for as intermittently uncomfortable as his current situation was, Diego was still fairly certain it was preferable to being trapped in the car alone with Javier. If that had been the case, Diego might’ve gotten stuck walking home. Neither of the men were putting in any effort to be Diego’s friend, but Javi was a little colder, a little more brutal than Steve had been. All things considered, the universe had given Diego the lesser of two evils this time around.

"We're here all night, right?" Diego asked as the sun started to sink. 

Steve nodded, eye pressed against the camera. "Yea. You got places to be?"

Diego bit back his sigh. "No. But we've been here all day already. No way we're both staying up the entire night, especially when there isn't anything going on."

"You can take a nap if you want."

"Murphy—"

The exasperation in Diego's voice sounded a little too familiar. Steve jerked his head to look at him, only to find Diego skimming over his notes. "Fine. Give it a couple hours. I'll grab coffee and take the first shift. Let you get your fuckin' beauty sleep."

Diego had to chuckle at that. He wasn’t really even tired yet, but he knew that eventually, they were going to be. He just nodded and went back to the task at hand. The silence between them felt a little less tense now, at least for Diego. Sometimes he wondered if Steve ever wasn't tense. Maybe that was an answer you'd be able to give him. Because sure, sometimes things felt a little more personal than they should, but Diego wasn't so self-pitying to think that it was all his fault all the time. Sometimes it just felt like that’s how Steve operated all the time. You knew Steve better, he'd have to remember to ask. 

Steve went to get coffee, leaving his camera behind. He warned Diego not to break it if he had to use it in the couple minutes that he was gone. Diego promised it would all still be in one piece when Steve got back. Moments like that made him wish that reciprocating sarcasm would go over well.

When the driver's door opened again, Steve slid into his seat, a coffee cup in each hand. He set one into the cup holder closer to Diego, taking a sip from the one still clutched in his hand. He saw the questioning look on Diego's face and rolled his eyes, although it took real effort to not laugh or crack a smile. 

"It's just coffee. It won’t bite."

Diego allowed himself to give a bit of an amused smile. “That’d be the last thing I need these days.”

Steve saw the way that his gaze kept flickering over to the coffee from his notepad. “You good?” he asked.

Diego’s eyes widened slightly as he looked over at Steve. "Yea, I just…” He paused. “Thanks. I wasn’t, you know,” he shrugged, not really finishing his sentence. 

Steve frowned for a brief moment. None of those words really meant anything and yet Steve knew exactly what the kid was saying.  “Right.” It sounded more genuine than the last time he’d said it. He wanted to have something more to say, but he knew that he’d backed himself into a bit of a corner with Diego, so he let it lie.

They both fell quiet again. Steve maneuvered the driver’s seat so that he could lean back a little while they waited for something else to happen. Diego was leaning back, eyes mostly closed as he wondered if it would be worth it to just drink the coffee and power through for a while, or take a quick fifteen and drink it when he woke up. While he was thinking about that, he could feel Steve looking at him. He was at the point where he didn’t even try to guess what anyone was thinking about him anymore.

“Please stop,” Diego said, his voice nice enough but the exhaustion was audible.

“What?” Steve wasn’t a good enough actor to pretend that he didn’t know exactly what Diego was talking about.

“Please stop staring,” he elaborated.

“I’m not--”

“We’re gonna be stuck together in this car for a while. If there’s something you wanna say, you should just say it.” He opened his eyes the rest of the way, turning and looking over at Steve. “It can’t be worse than anything else I’ve heard.”

Steve sucked in a deep breath. “Look, Ramírez, I’m not trying to--”

Diego didn’t mean to cut him off with a laugh, but it still worked out that way. He shook his head at Steve, “Don’t do that, Murphy, please.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to be diplomatic now.” He sat a little more upright, any wish for going to sleep officially gone out the window with the smoke from Steve’s cigarette. “You’re better than that. Don’t lie. If you have an issue with me--”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ issue with you,” Steve sounded as indignant as ever, which did not help his case.

“Are you sure about that?” Diego didn’t sound angry, even though he had every right to be. He just sounded tired, and not just from being up late on a stakeout. “Because it seems like both you and your partner are waiting for me to tap out.” The words along with the rest of the CNP were on the tip of his tongue but he managed to hold them back.

“I’m not…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he tried to figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to say. It wasn’t that he wanted Diego to quit. Hell, they needed any and all help they could get given the state of everything. And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Steve knew that the kid was good at his job. Aside from the…issues, with Carrillo, Diego didn’t have any real blemishes on his record. Flying colors in the academy, glowing reviews from any fucking officer in the CNP prior to a few months ago. And even then, no one could really say a bad thing about his work. But this wasn’t just about the work. Steve knew that. Diego knew that. Everyone knew that. From the second that Diego set foot in the building, it became just as much about everything else as it was about catching Escobar. That’s where the issues all bubbled up. 

Steve didn’t want to say any of that out loud though. He knew how petulant it would sound. They were two grown men sitting on a stakeout trying to get information on some of the most wanted criminals in the world. The last thing that he should be thinking about saying was, “Yea well your girlfriend really hurt Carrillo’s feelings when she dumped him for you so now we all sort of have to hate you because we knew him first.” Because even if the phrasing came out more elegantly than that, that’s really what it was going to boil down to.

Diego saw it on Steve’s face that he was deep in thought. He shook his head, toying with the coffee cup that Steve had set in the cup holder for him. “You guys give her this hard of a time too?” They were already knee-deep in murky waters, so Diego figured that throwing the question out wasn’t going to make it worse.

“Who?” Steve asked.

Diego shot him a look of disbelief, like he couldn’t tell if Steve was being sarcastic or not. “What do you mean who?”

Steve’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh.” He shook his head. “Not…not really.”

Diego nodded, thinking back on all of his conversations with you over the last few months as everything began to change. Some things had become better, easier. Other things had gotten complicated when they really shouldn’t have been.

“Mhm.” He picked up the coffee and took a sip, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he was back in his own bed, preferably with you. The most anger that had been in his voice all night only came out when it came to you. “You guys just cut her out, right?”

Steve’s gut twisted with guilt at the question, but he wasn’t going to cop to that. “What,” he had half of his usual sarcasm intact, “you stay close with all of your friends’ exes then?”

Diego shrugged. “No. But,” he drummed his fingers on the cup, trying to figure out just how bold he was feeling, “who was really your friend in all of that?”

It was sort of a challenge, sort of an honest inquiry. He knew that it wasn’t as though you and Steve had hung out all the time, but you had been close with Connie by virtue of everything going on. You’d been friendly with Steve, and truthfully Diego found it hard to believe that Carrillo had been any kinder to the man than you had been.

“It’s not that simple,” Steve finally said.

Diego gave one slow nod. “Alright.”

Steve set his cup down in the cupholder. Without looking directly at him, he handed the camera over to Diego. “You take the first shift, then,” he said, leaning back in the seat and shutting his eyes.

Diego nodded even though it wasn’t like the man next to him was going to see it. He held the camera carefully in the hand that wasn’t holding onto his coffee. “That works.”

He set the coffee down, leaving just the camera and his notepad in his lap. He lightly tapped the end of his pencil on the pad of paper in front of him. He was no stranger to pulling all-nighters, but this didn’t feel quite like the others. It almost made him miss being fresh out of the academy and getting put on all the shifts that other more senior officers didn’t want to pick up. At least back then, the man sitting next to him in the patrol car was happy to have him there.

Before he could wallow too much, another pair of men started making their way up the steps of the building that they had been watching. The constant looking over their shoulders was a dead giveaway that they were people to watch. Diego lifted the camera, placing his eye to the viewfinder as he quickly tried to zoom in.

Steve’s eyes were still shut, hand tucked behind his head as he said, “Make sure the fuckin’ flash is off. You’ll get us shot.”

Diego frowned, feeling like that was a bit obvious, but he pulled the camera away to double-check. He huffed out a tiny laugh as he switched the flash off. “Thanks.”