#it was never meant to be sustainable it was meant to do a lot with less

[swashbucklery]

No Q but I really do enjoy your posts about fiber arts even if half the time I'm like knit? Crochet? Difference? Thanks for the reminders on why it's so important to buy natural fibers and decent made stuff with fair labor practices (I have a lot of wool pieces now and my dad is like, I have 50 yo cashmere so like, they really do last) ANYWAY I just really enjoy seeing you nerd out about something I don't see much of on Tumblr

Oh anon, thank you! I can talk about it for literally forever, but Tumblr is where I go to daydream about superheroes kissing so it doesn't often come up on my dash.

I think it is tough because the conversation about sustainability intersects with conversations about equity and accessibility, where - again, that mindset of 'opting out' requires both economic and social privilege. Having the time to go thrifting for second-hand garments that are good quality and will last, having the money to buy new garments made of natural fibers, and having the ability to choose to wear those garments in your day to day life (ie, not needing to wear a uniform or dress to a dress code) are big parts of being able to engage in the personal-choice element of sustainable textile consumption.

But ultimately like - I think we have to keep remembering that our current ways of consuming clothing are new. Even back into the 1940s people were sewing their own garments or altering them, and would have a countable number of outfits. And it's been a slow creep towards the current model but it's - like, the planet is burning we have to make it easy for everyone to change, not just the people who have the time and resources to make sustainability their hobby.

[azsazz]

Hide (Part 3)

Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2,447

Notes: A lil longer this time...enjoy 💙

[Part One] [Part 2]

_________________________________________

You don’t get the chance to call after Rhysand before he vanishes in a puff of darkness.

Your chest aches and tears prick your eyes. You’ve never fought with your brother like this before, not even when you argued over him coddling you long after you healed from the incident and wanted to have time alone without a guard Illyrian watching your every move.

This somehow hurts more than any of the injuries you sustained that dreadful night.

Eris stands from his chair and pulls you into his body, desperate for your touch as much as you are for his. He doesn’t care that Cassian and Azriel are watching his every move, how Azriel gets a hand on the hilt of his dagger as soon as he stands. He wouldn’t hurt you, couldn’t hurt you, but that burning in his chest that you let drift down the bond, he knows how much he has.

You swallow roughly, leaning into his chest. Eris strokes your hair softly, pressing his nose to your hair to take a deep inhale of your scent, one he hasn’t smelled for months this time, but it nearly brings him to his knees all the same. 

Eris is incredibly happy to have you in his court but his happiness is stifled by both the fact that you and Rhysand are no longer on good terms, and that he’s bringing you to meet his family for the first time, and that alone is like walking into a den of wolves.

With you in his hold once again, none of that matters. Nothing matters besides you and your happiness, and he will try his damnedest to make that beautiful smile appear again. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and think of terrible, awful things so his cock doesn’t press into your stomach the way that it wants to.

Just being in his arms again helps calm you. Eris’ body is so warm and suddenly you feel so drained from the events that have happened here. All you want to do is burrow yourself against him and fade away for a few hours, but none of that is going to happen any time soon because your brother's words ring in your head.

Get out of my court. 

Had he been serious when he said such a dreadful thing? His words are law in the Night Court but surely he couldn’t have meant that you needed to leave. Not while you’re fighting. Not like this.

You rest your chin on Eris’ chest when he draws up only slightly at the snort of disgust Cassian makes behind him. He doesn’t care that his back is turned to the two most powerful warriors in the Night Court, not when he has you in his arms.

Staring up at your mate, you blink slowly, looking deep into those russet eyes. They’re soft with worry, his fingers a gentle massage as he runs them down your back, needing to touch every inch of you possible. Eris restrains from kissing you, from claiming you in front of them, because you’re hurting more than you’re letting him feel, but he knows you better than that, even without the bonds help. The redness brimming your eyes, the tightness of your mouth, the way your fingers dig into his skin so harshly, like clinging to him is the only way you won’t break. 

The kiss Eris places on your forehead is so gentle that a tear breaks free, rolling down your cheek. He wipes at it before he reaches down and twines your fingers together, letting you lean into his side as the both of you face your guards.

Your treachery is written clear as day across Cassian’s face. His thick eyebrows drawn taut, those hazel eyes flickering between you and your mate with contempt. The corners of his mouth are downturned in a disapproving frown, and you’ve never quite seen him like this before. 

His hatred is palpable. You want so desperately to reach out to him, to explain all of this mess, but he will refuse to listen, no matter how much he loves you.

Azriel’s face is carefully blank. You’ve never mastered being able to read through it and it makes your heart clench in your chest.

“How could you?” Cassian blurts, as if any of this was your choice. You don’t choose when the mating bond makes itself known, and you certainly don’t choose who your mate is. 

You’d been just as surprised as they were when the bond snapped into place in the middle of a meeting with the High Lord’s, sat right by your brother’s side. One look from the heir apparent of autumn has sent your bond striking, writhing in your chest at the sight of him. As soon as those russet eyes found yours, your breath caught in your chest, the bond snapping like a lance.

You’d gone pale and your brother had thought nothing of it, slipping into your mind to ask if you were okay while he kept his attention on the conversation at hand. 

Ripping your gaze from Eris’, you had told him you suddenly felt ill, the first lie you’ve ever told your brother. It felt like shit in your mouth but the twisting of your lips had been misread as the sudden sickness you felt in your stomach. 

Rhysand asked Azriel to escort you to your rooms in the Summer Courts castle, and even the shadow singer hadn’t deigned to read into the sudden rush of emotions running through your veins, the shared emotions of your mate.

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning heavily on Azriel when you felt the desperate tugging in your chest as if Eris was begging you to stay, not to walk away from him despite the centuries long clashing of your courts. 

“Do not speak to my mate like that,” Eris hisses, slithering from his seat to stand firmly in front of you, keeping you safe from the two males you’d grown up with, that had taken care of you, suddenly looking at you like you’re the enemy. “She has done nothing wrong.”

“She has done everything wrong!” Cassian’s shout bites. You flinch a little, tucking in closer to Eris’ side. His russet gaze sharpens, lighting with anger. You tighten your arms around him so that he doesn’t do anything irrational like light Cassian up right where he’s standing. Cassian’s siphons glow menacingly as he swings his gaze to you, the hurt he’s experiencing clear on display. “You should have come to us! We would’ve—” He seems at a loss, the words choking up in his throat. “We would’ve been able to help!”

“Help what, Cassian?” You answer, voice cracking as your emotions heighten again. “There was nothing any of you could do, nothing to fix!” You’re exasperated, shoving a few strands of hair back from your face. “I am in love with Eris Vanserra and there is nothing that anyone can do about it!”

The silence that follows your words is scorching. 

Cassian opens his mouth and shuts it immediately. He’s looking down at you like he doesn’t even know you, like he hasn’t known you since you were no more than thirteen and had been harboring the biggest crush on him. You’d seen him as someone who you could always turn to, someone who could ease the pain of many. The male who could so easily lead an army with a little wit and a lot of confidence, sweet and cheeky and rational.

Cassian is one of the strongest males that you know, but right now, in Rhysand’s absence but in front of the Mother and yourself, your mate and Azriel, he’s acting like nothing more than a fussing babe.

When Cassian seems to find his words, they are not nice. “If you truly believe that there was nothing we could have done, I don’t know you.” He shakes his head, sheathing the knife at his thigh.

You’re done listening to his vitriol. Your voice is heated, as if the fires that burn beneath your lover's skin fuels your words. “If you truly believe that I don’t love my mate, I don’t know you either.” 

Cassian pins you with one more glare, chuckling softly as he turns to leave the room. “You have one hour to leave this court. Night’s armies no longer march with Autumn’s.” 

Your breath leaves you in a harsh gasp but he’s already out the door. This…this is the worst case scenario. You’d been worried about the impending war against the King of Hybern and the Queen of the Black Lands. It has taken an immense number of correspondence with the other courts to plan your defense, and now it’s all for naught. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracks as the weight of the night rests heavily on your shoulders. You peer up at your mate, the urge to burst into tears an appealing one, especially when you hear your mate’s stern words.

“There is nothing for you to be sorry for, fawn. Nothing,” he glances over to the last standing Illyrian in your way of leaving. Eris swoops down, unable to keep himself from you, pressing a soft but reassuring kiss to your lips. “We will speak about this later. You should gather your things.”

You look at Azriel for permission to do just that. His hazel eyes flicker between you and Eris before he nods slightly, leading you from the room.

His shadows trail you from behind, crawling across the walls like spiders. Him walking in front of you is a sign of trust that makes your shoulders droop a little. At least one of the three brutish Illyrians you consider your brothers sees reason. 

“I surely hope that you know what you’re doing,” Azriel murmurs, turning down the corridor leading to one of the staircases leading upstairs. It’s not the grand one in the center of the house for everyone to see, and you’re thankful that his spymaster tendencies will keep you from being the entertainment of the night. 

You can’t help but to think about your brother.

You clear your throat a little before answering Azriel. “If you cannot accept my mate, then you cannot accept me, either. Rhysand has made that abundantly clear.” You squeeze Eris’ hand, following Azriel down the halls that you know so well. There is no need for an escort, and each step closer to your room tightens your throat.

You adore how Eris is following your lead, how he’s letting you speak for yourself and not for you, no matter how much you know he wants to burn this manor to the ground. 

“He is outside of his mind right now,” Azriel answers, his steps silent even though his boots are thick-soled. He moves like a whisper of night, always an eerie aura to the cobalt siphon clad male. He glances over his shoulder with a look that tells you you should know this, that you should know your brother better than anyone. “He will come around.”

You hope.

You don’t speak again on the way to your room. No one does. Eris is following along, eyeing everything because he has never been this deep into the House of Wind. It’s intriguing to him, or you think your mate might be cataloging everything he’s seeing for ammunition later. You’re much too tired to question it right now. 

Following his lead, you drink in everything that you can; the scones and art littering the walls, the intricately patterned runner on the end of your bed, a gift from your mother.

It doesn’t take long for you to grab your things. Dresses and clothes you can purchase when you arrive in Autumn. You will need to fit in. You carefully fold the runner, aware of both males eyes on you as you do so; one pair loving, the other calculating. 

You pack a few more personal items, the ones that mean something to you: a necklace gifted to you from Rhysand on the coldest solstice you’ve ever experienced, a sweater, one of the only gifts you’ve actually received from your father. Your favorite knife is already strapped to your thigh beneath your dress—a gift from Azriel, and with a slight frown, you shove the book Cassian had picked out for you into your bag, clipping it shut.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to bring, my mate?” Eris asks tenderly. You nod firmly. Looking around your room one last time, you wonder if you will ever see it again. Azriel seems so sure that Rhysand will come around, but you’re not so sure. You may be fighting on the same sides of the war, but you are no longer allies.

“Yes. I’m ready.” You say it with a fake finality that you don’t mean. You peek at Azriel one last time and catch the remorse in that dark gaze of his. 

He doesn’t like this anymore than you do. 

Eris takes your bag and then your hand, winnowing you to your new home.

When you appear in the Autumn Court, his rooms greet you. The lights are buttery and soft, an immediate comfort that reminds you so much of the caring male mated to you. The walls are painted a deep olive with the most luxurious curtains draped all the way to the floors, which are a warm wood. 

A fire roars loudly in the hearth, its flame burning brighter with your sudden appearance, like the flames are trying to crawl from the firebox to hold you in their warm embrace.

Eris frames your face with his hands, sweeping his thumbs beneath your cheeks, drinking you in intently. He’s nervous, you realize, because you’ve never been to autumn, never seen his rooms nor met his family. You bond thrums in your chest as you send all of the love and thanks you’re feeling through to him. His shoulders drop immediately, the tension leaking from them because no matter who gets in your way, from your family or his, you will always have each other. 

The kiss is searing. You step further into your mate, reveling in the feeling of being alone with him again. Nothing else matters outside of this. Outside of his smokey scent, outside of the hands on your body, creeping up your back to split the collar of your dress, outside of his lips on yours—

Eris breaks the kiss almost abruptly, his lips the same red dusting as his cheeks. You can’t help but to lick your lips, your core melting when his eyes track the motion. 

“Welcome to the Autumn Court, fawn. Let me show you my bed.”

_________________________________________

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[dcxdpdabbles]

Fingers crossed for an update of Passion for Fashion 💖❓ sorry for the bother but I've just become addicted to reading that Au lololol I've read it over and over again for like a hundred times now

"Give me a spin," Dan demands, keeping a critical eye on the suit pants as the man did as he was told. He clicks his tongue in sharp disapproval before falling into a crouch and fidgeting with the hem.

Danny thinks the suit came out looking fantastic for a stupid theme like question marks. The client was also a rather exciting guy, randomly spewing riddles at them as Dan worked on his outfit and Danny cooked them lunch.

Edward Nigma had shown up on their doorstep with a cheerful greeting at five a.m. Danny wanted to tell Edward that anything before nine a.m. should be illegal, but Dan was happy to welcome him in.

Dan had forgotten to sleep again and didn't realize the early morning start. Danny was getting rather tired of the ghost rushing about with an insane amount of energy, only to crash when his human body could no longer sustain his habits.

After letting Edward get comfortable on the half-buried couch of clothing, Danny wandered back upstairs to his bedroom. It was the only room—besides the bathroom—where there wasn't a bunch of fabric and sewing instruments thrown about. He crashed on his bed and didn't wake up until two more hours later.

By that point, when he had done his morning routine and wandered downstairs, he found Edward sitting crosslegged in a ring of paper. The paper had multiple sketched designs of various suits.

A little to his right was Dan, whose hand was nothing but a blur as it raced across his sketchbook. Danny could make out that he stopped, ever so often, to switch out the coloring pencils for shades of green and purple, but doing it at such a speed that he doubted regular humans would be able to tell.

It meant his drawings were done at an insanely fast pace. He wondered if his Obsession made it possible not to burn a hole through the paper. Was there a way to test that? Ghosts did have an effect on their environments just as the environments had an effect on their forming.

Edward was comparing two papers in his hands with a critical eye. He looked up as Danny stumbled down the stairs- he had never been a morning person. He held up the designs for Danny to see, asking, " What is the most dangerous thing to give a man in a crowd?"

Half asleep, Danny didn't miss a beat in muttering, "Power."

Edward seemed pleased by his response, putting the left one back into the ring of papers before shifting around to face a new side of the ring. There, he ran his fingers over the designs, muttering, "It needs to be powerful."

Right.

"I'm making breakfast if anyone-"

"No need. Edward ordered us some. Your burrito is over there somewhere," Dan cut him off, turning to the next page without lifting his head. "It's part of my commission."

"Free food?"

"For a week"

"Nice"

Edward glances at them. "I can keep feeding you if you answer more riddles."

Danny takes a big bite out of his bean burrito, savoring the explosion of flavor that dances over before nodding his head. "I promise I'll try to answer as many as I can but I'm not the best at them."

The man frowns, turning away back to this pile of papers. "If you're not going to play my game, you don't need to waste the air you breathe in."

Both Fentons freeze at that, snapping their heads in Edward's direction. Now, correct him if he is wrong, but that sounded a whole lot like a threat to Danny. He made eye contact with Dan, tracing the youthful human face that held the same bloodlust as his adult form.

Was Edward aware he had just issued a Ghost Challenge to the one Fenotn, the least human, thus the one with the least humanity of them all, madness cured or not? Is he aware that Dan was putting down his drawings, his teeth more sharp, and his hands curled into claws?

Danny sprung to his feet, mouth open in a shout just as Dan was about to leap-

Ding Dong.

The front doorbell cuts through the air like a knife through hot butter. Dan's ghost instincts all but vanish as his eyes light up in joy. He goes through with his leap, but it's only to go over Edward's form and roll to a stop on the other side, heading towards the door. "My second client!"

Danny breathes a sigh of relief, flopping back down in his seat. He ignores Edward, savoring his food with a deep hunger. Clockwork had sent them over with enough funds to survive, and there were no bills they needed to cover (if there were, no one had bothered to come collect from the Fentons or cut their services), but that was a limit to how loose they could be with their spending.

Danny thought eating out was a luxury he would miss out on until he returned home. Of course, he got a coffee or something occasionally, but that made this free food all the more tasty.

"I was thinking something more eco-friendly," The redhead woman from the runway told Dan as she scanned the room with a hint of distaste. "Are you aware of the damage to the Earth these fabric stores cause?"

Dan eyed her with equal distance. "Are you aware of how little I care about that?"

Edward snaps his head up with a gasp. "Did he really say that to Ivy?"

"I thought her name was Pamela," Danny asks, which causes the green woman to snap a glare at him. He shrugs helplessly at her rage, reminded of Sam in a heartbreaking moment. "Miss, look around you. Do you honestly think ants like us have any say with the fabric companies?"

"You could stop giving them business!" She hisses as Dan rolls his eyes.

"We bought almost everything from a second-hand store or a discount store. The poor don't get to make eco-friendly decisions. They make ones that help them stay off the streets." Danny explains gently, making sure his voice is not dismissive or condescending. He thinks back to nights when he had to talk Sam down from doing something crazy- like setting a building on fire for them and cutting down the oldest trees in Amity Park. "You have the means to make a change."

Pamela raises a brow. "I do make a change. Permanently."

"Oh, that's great. How many trees have you replanted?" Danny asks, smiling widely. It's odd how she reacts to his question, body still going in surprise.

"What?"

"I mean, I figured you would be focusing on healing the earth instead of causing it more scars by engaging in human wars, right?" Danny tilts his head, aware of Edward's flabbergasted look and Dan's apparent boredom with the conversation. "You're different from the big corporations who don't care who or what they hurt to reach their end goal, right? "

Pamela opens and closes her mouth before she snaps her back straight. "That wouldn't save the Earth! Humans are a plague!"

"Humans can also be a cure if the right ones get started." Danny counters quickly. "I mean, what have you done for the rivers around Gotham? The water that flows through there affects the plant life just as much. Also, plants and green help lower depression, and Gotham needs help. Plant some pretty flowers and gardens, and watch the neighborhoods flock to them. If you can convince the people to love the plants as much as you do, they will join you in keeping them safe."

Pamela's eyes narrow. "Don't you dare lecture me about how to save the Earth."

Danny shrugs, stepping away from her. A sudden strong perfume fills the air, causing his nose to wrinkle. It smells like his grandmother's house and is not welcoming. "Wasn't a lecture, but if you take it as such, there is no point in talking about it anymore."

"You're going to die for me," she suddenly says, popping out her hip and smirking at him.

"That's nothing special, Danny would die for a pizza." Dan cuts in

"I would die for an extra cheese pizza." Danny corrects, pointing his finger at his counterpart. "You would die for less."

"Oh, to be dead. In the arms of the most handsome EverBurning to ever live." Dan sighs dramatically, leaning into three pieces of cloth behind him, one hand on his forehead.

Danny threw his hands in the air. He's sick and tired of hearing about the ghost they knew for only ten minutes. "Killer Croc is never going to give you a chance, Dan. Move on!"

"We could have been forever if it weren't for my age!" Dan hisses right back, "You wouldn't understand! It's not like you or Samantha turned five!"

"Who's fault do you think that was? " Danny yells back, stepping around the wide-eyed Edward to snare into Dan's face. Pamela has taken three steps back, looking confused more than anything, mouthing Killer's name with clear disbelief.

"I wasn't the one that messed up the timeline!" Dan hisses, switching over to Spanish. Sometimes, the fake twins found themselves doing that whenever they got too emotional.

"You destroyed the world!"

"As it was foretold!"

"What does that even mean!?"

Ding Dong.

Once again, the doorbell cuts through the tension, making Danny huff. He pushes past Dan, who punches him in the arm but doesn't stop him from throwing the door open. Outside stands Tim Drake, with a bouquet of flowers and a nervous smile.

"I'm here for the suit," Tim says, holding out the flowers. "I know you said I didn't have to pay you, but I thought it was rude to not offer anything-"

"Buy me pizza." Danny cuts him off with dead-set eyes. "Double crust."

Tim startles. "Oh. Sure?"

Danny can feel his face stretch out into a grin. It lights up his whole face—Sam and Tucker had told him many times before—and he just knows it makes him appear lighter and friendlier. Tim's face goes very red as Danny takes his flowers. "It's a date. Come on in. Dan can get your measurements for the resize, and I can get ready in the meantime."

"Okay." Tim follows after him in a daze, stumbling over the fabric rolls Dan had stacked against the wall. He tries to avoid tipping but tangles himself in the string of cloth examples, still strung up everywhere. Danny quickly reaches out to steady him with a laugh.

"Yeah, this place is a bit of a mess," he tells the other. "It's slightly better today since Dan has some guests."

He leads Tim back into the living room, surprised to find that the awful smell has disappeared, Edward is currently being measured by Dan in his underwear, and Pamela is flipping through Dan's designs with a thought frown.

Huh, maybe Dan managed to calm her down. How? He's unsure, but that ghost always seemed to have the oddest people skills.

Tim gulps loudly when he finally spots everyone. "These are his guests?!"

"It's one of the Waynes." Edward cheers, arms held out to his sides as Dan places the measuring tap from his armpit to his waist. "Tim Drake, right? I had you in one of my riddles three months ago!"

"That's funny. I induced his father with pheromones around the same time." Pamela speaks up, giving Tim a friendly smile. It's the most welcoming expression she's worn since she got here.

Also ew, why would she tell someone she hooked up with their dad to their face like that?

Tim pales dramatically, reaching out to clutch Danny's arm. He pats it gently, hoping to comfort him from such a bizarre comment. "Dan, when you finish with Edward, can you message Tim for his adjustments. We're going on a date."

Dan glances over at him. "Whore"

"Just because I've gone on dates while Killer didn't even give you the time of day doesn't mean you can call me names, Dan."

"Whore but affectionately," Dan says after a long pause, and Danny nods.

"That's better." He pats Tim again on the shoulder- aware of his strange fidgeting with a ring on his finger that imitates a strange faint beeping. "I'll go upstairs to get ready. Who knows, maybe we'll find Batman."

Edward and Pamela laugh as if Danny said a funny joke and Tim's face aging a few more nervous lines. "Maybe"

He leaves Tim to take a seat next to Pamela. She leans over to show Dan's designs for her Leaf theme act and asks for his opinion. Tim fidgets even more with his ring as he answers her, voice shaky and cracking.

She seems highly amused.

His pale face stands out among the sea of handing red glimmering fabric around his head, and Danny is startled for a second by the idea that he is pretending to be scared, much like an actor before a red stage curtains.

It takes a particular skill to pull off an act that good. Almost an inhuman amount. One could even claim it was.... Bat-man-like.

I have a lead, Danny thinks with glee as he quickly climbs the stairs. He is careful not to step on bundles of yarn that Dan has stacked there. I finally have a lead!

He's going to charm the pants off of Tim to get him to tell him everything about Batman.

[little-pondhead]

Your Ancient History, Written In Wax

-

Danny knew he should have put better security around the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep. It wasn’t even Vlad who opened it this time! The fruitloop was too busy doing his actual mayor duties because for some godforsaken reason, the man got re-elected.

No, it wasn’t Vlad. And it wasn’t Fright Knight, either. Nor the Observants. Who opened the Sarcophagus, then? Danny didn’t have time to find out as Pariah Dark promptly tore open a hole in reality and started hunting Danny down.

The battle was longer this time. He didn’t have the Ecto-Skeleton, as that was the first thing Pariah had destroyed. The halfa had grown a lot over the past few years, and learned some new tricks, but apparently sleeping in a magic ghost box meant that Pariah had absorbed a lot of power. The bigger ghost acted like a one-man army!

Amity Park was caught in the middle of the battle, but the residents made sure it went no further than that. Vlad and the Fentons made a barrier around the town to keep the destruction from leaking. Sam, Tucker, and Dani did crowd control while Danny faced the king head-on.

Their battle shook the Zone and pulled them wildly between the mortal plane and the afterlife. Sometimes, residents noticed a blow from Pariah transported them to the age of the dinosaurs, and Phantom’s Wail brought them to an unknown future. Then they were in a desert. Then a blazing forest. Then underwater. It went on like that, but no one dared step foot outside of Amity. They couldn’t risk being left behind.

It took ages to beat him, but eventually, Danny stood above the old ghost king, encasing his symbols of power in ice so they couldn’t be used again. He refused to claim the title for himself. Tired as he was, Danny handed the objects off to Clockwork for safe keeping and started repairing the damage Pariah had done to the town. The tear he’d made was too big to fix, for now, so no one bothered. They just welcomed their new ghostly neighbors with open arms and worked together to restore Amity Park.

Finally, the day came to bring down the barrier. People were gathered around the giant device the Fentons had built to sustain it. Danny had brought Clockwork to Amity, to double check that they had returned to the right time and dimension.

Clockwork assured everyone that they were in the right spot, and only a small amount of time had passed, so the Fentons gave the signal to drop the shield.

Very quickly did they discover that something was wrong. The air smelled different. The noise of the nearby city, Elmerton, was louder and more chaotic. Something was there that wasn’t before, and it put everyone on edge.

Clockwork smiled, made a remark about the town fitting in better than before, and disappearing before Danny could catch him.

Frantic, Danny had a few of his ghost buds stay behind to protect the town while he investigated.

He flew far and wide, steadily growing horrified at the changes the world had undergone. Heroes, villains, rampant crime and alien invasions. The Earth was unrecognizable. There were people moving around the stars like it was second nature and others raising dead gods like the apocalypse was coming. Magic and ectoplasm was everywhere, rather than following the ley lines like they were supposed to.

Danny returned to Amity.

The fight with Pariah had taken them through space and time. Somewhere along the way, they had changed the course of history so badly that this now felt like an alien world.

How was he supposed to fix this?

-

In the Watchtower, The Flash was wrapping up monitor duty while Impulse buzzed around him, a little more jittery than usual. The boy was talking a mile a minute, when alarms started blaring an alarming green. Flash had never seen this alarm before, and its crackling whine was grating on his ears.

Flash returned to the monitor, frantically clicking around to find the issue, but nothing was popping up. No major disasters, no invasions, no declarations of war. Nothing! What was causing the alarm?

Impulse swore and zipped to a window, pressing his face against it and staring down at Earth. “Fuck! It’s today isn’t it? I forgot!”

“What’s today?” Flash asked. He shot off a text to Batman, asking if it was an error. The big Bat said it wasn’t, and that he would be there soon.

“The arrival of Amity Park. I learned about this in school; the alarm always gives me headaches.”

Flash turned to his grandson, getting his attention. “Bart,” he stressed. “What are you talking about?”

Impulse barely glanced over his shoulder. Now that Flash was facing him, he could see a strong glow coming from Earth. “The first villain, first anti-villain, and the first hero,” he said anxiously. “They all protect the town of the original metas. They’re all here.”

“Here? Now??”

“Yeah? They weren’t before, but they are now. The first hero said there was time stuff involved, which was what inspired me to start practicing time travel in the first place.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s okay. We should probably go welcome them before they tear apart Illinois, though. The history I remember says that some of them freaked and destroyed a chunk of the Midwest during a fight with each other.”

“WHAT?”

[mickyschumacher]

style was so fucking good HOLY SHITTTTT can u please please please do a part 2 xx

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after separating from carlos, you thought you would never ever have to see him again. but fate is demanding and it demands you bumping into him in a club. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), jealousy (bc where would we be without it), reader is younger than carlos but not like insanely, reader has vagina, angst, ferrari SLANDER, charles moves to redbull oop, GOOGLED SPANISH! I'M SORRY ���, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies peeps!), oral sex, cumming inside, car sex = dangerous car driving, brief handjob, dry(?) humping, confession time AHHH, incorrect modelling stuff again lol, nicer!carlos ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: complicated ex!carlos sainz x model!fem!reader, bestie!lily he x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+ (whoops)

𝐀/𝐍: a lot of people wanted a part 2 so.... here it is! i hope this is up to your par with what you were thinking about ♡︎ has bit of a build up but the smut is there! decently proof read... i think? my eyes are vv tired from these exams :(

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

Three years.

A lot can happen in three years.

For you that meant with some crazy luck becoming the World's top supermodel. Kendall Jenner, Gigi and Bella Hadid, Emily Ratajkowski... whoever the top once was, you had put them all to shame. You were booked and busier than ever. You could've sworn you used to get your beauty sleep but now you were lucky if you could even get an hour let alone eight. The billboards and the magazines loved you and the public, god the public, they cherished you.

Never had the world needed a relatable, kind role model more and there you were. A diamond in the rough, waiting to be seen. You were even on your way of becoming an entrepreneur in sustainable fashion.

Everything was going your way.

It was a surprise for you. After Carlos, you thought you would be moping forever. And you did, at least for a few days. But when your manager and stylist advised you to release your pent up emotions, you thought the best way to do that was fully committing yourself to your work.

No more relationships. No hookups. No races. No Carlos.

And somehow, it worked. You were a single supermodel who won over the public. No races, no Carlos. You were bringing your company money.

But yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop thinking about Carlos. His smugness, the puppy brown eyes, his touch, the little signs that he cared; the softening of the side of his eyes when he looked at you before they were ridden with lust or his need to have some part of him touching you; his hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, or soft circles rubbed on your inner wrist.

You missed him.

But that was three years ago.

You and Carlos didn't even run in the same circles anymore.

For Carlos, three years meant extending his contract with Ferrari, although God knows why, losing three chances at a championship, fighting with Adami over the radio far more than he liked, and losing Charles to Red Bull. All while feeling very empty. No one really recognised who Carlos was anymore. Not his family, not the drivers, and not the fans. Hell, he himself didn't know who he was.

Whoever Carlos was right now... it was the mere shell of who he used to be.

He was drinking far too much for an F1 driver celebrating other's podiums. And now he got angry. He didn't get angry, he seethed. He let himself feel vexed in order to get motivated. But now he was just angry and torn but not for no reason.

Carlos was an idiot. He had made an irrevocably stupid decision. Separating from you was the worse decision he had ever made. And that said something considering he had extended with the most infuriating F1 team of the past few years.

How could he have even made that decision? Normally, he thought things out. He was an F1 driver, for God's sake. Some sort of thought could be accounted for. But he didn't know what it was... maybe he was too emotional the night he was with you. Whatever it was, he should've thought it out.

God, Carlos should've realised that all he needed to do was put more effort it. You and him... it would've worked. He would've stopped hurting you. He would've been fully committed to you.

But no. He had fuck to it up.

To say Carlos hadn't been stalking your socials everyday was an understatement. Cumming to your name was a pre-race ritual that had now turned into checking what projects you were doing. Not to be dramatic, but to him, it felt like you were just keeping him alive, giving him a reason to live.

Carlos couldn't even muster the courage to call you and ask if you could talk. He didn't deserve that. Like he said, you deserved more. And all these fans and the fame and money... you deserved all of it and more. Staying away from you was the best thing he could do for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos had made a terrible, terrible decision to attend the Miami after race party after saying he wouldn't. In fact, he couldn't. Not when he knew for a fact that you were in a club only down the street.

The temptation to see you was strong.

The club lights flared across the dance floor while the heat and humidity of all these dancing bodies clung to his warm skin. Carlos' hands shook silently at his side while Charles and Lando mixed in conversation. Every fibre of his body was telling his feet to stick to this floor. He couldn't see you. He was only going to ruin your night. He bit down on his lip, feeling a familiar ache in his chest.

But his heart... it was a strong heart. And it was telling him to take that five minute walk.

"I'm just going to get some fresh air," Carlos yelled over the music blaring in his ears. Charles and Lando gave the Spaniard a nod before returning to their conversation.

Carlos tried to make his walk to the club as long as possible, veering off to the side, staring far too long into the windows of other stores. But eventually, he stood in front of the thriving club.

You were celebrating having reached 50 Vogue covers, including the Big Four twice. You told your manager you were fine with having dinner at home but the refusal was immediate and came with the claim of you needing a break. So here you were, dressed in the most sparkly, skimpy, backless deep cleavage silver slip dress, dancing your ass off.

When Carlos entered the club, it was hard to miss you. How could he? You were the centre of attention, dancing around in your little dress that was fighting to cling to your body while everyone cheered you on.

He shouldn't of come. He knew it. Because now, he couldn't leave. No matter how much he knew that to leave was the right decision.

You, on the other hand, didn't notice Carlos so easily. You were having the time of your life, swaying your hips side-to-side as the beat coursed through your veins. Your skin was dotted with sweat while a handsome stranger had come up to you, clearly looking to hook up. And while you weren't looking to screw just anyone, you couldn't shy away from the little bit of grinding your body so desperately craved.

The euphoria wasn't as high as you had once felt but it was enough to keep you on your toes. Heat travelled through your stomach while your eyes closed and your head fell back as another man moved behind you. You were in a haze of pleasure that made your pussy ache.

God, maybe you were too desperate for some pleasure. Because why did it feel like Carlos' cologne had engulfed you? Why did the fire burning within you flare up even further all of a sudden?

Your eyes shot open and a gasp fell from your lips when you felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

"Cariño," Carlos breathed out, hooded eyes peering down at you.

Your throat felt constricted. Your eyes watered with anger and shock.

"No," You said, pulling yourself away from him.

"No, no, no," You repeated while Carlos took a step towards you, hand reaching out to stop freaking you out.

"Y/N... I–" Carlos was cut short as you raced towards your table and picked up your purse and jacket, heading towards the exit doors of the club.

You could hear Carlos jog to catch up with you. Sighing, you put on your jacket, striding as far as you could in those stupidly beautiful heels you had worn. But you seemed to forget that he was an athlete at the end of the day.

"Y/N, please. Don't do this," Carlos begged, an inch away from you.

Your lips sunk into your bottom lip, ears attempting to block out the warm voice you had been craving for the past three years. Your heart was racing against your chest while your mind fell into disarray.

"Y/N," Carlos repeated, grabbing your arm gently.

You sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, feeling the hairs of your body stand straight. You turned and looked up at him with with reddened eyes, making him pause for a second.

"Three years, Carlos, three goddamn years... of nothing," You exasperated with the familiar words falling off your tongue all too easily.

"I know. I'm–"

"'... so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses.' Is that what you were going to say, Carlos?" You asked incredulously, arms folded as if they were going to protect you from all this sudden pain.

Carlos winced at your words, staring at you helplessly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I was doing fine... and you... what the hell were you thinking, Carlos?"

A silence settled between the both of you as the cold night air raced to cool down your flushed cheeks. Carlos breathed deeply. "I-I... I missed you, cariño. That's what I was thinking. That what I have been thinking for the past three years. I miss you all the time."

You stared at Carlos silently, chewing down on your lip nervously. This was what you wanted. You had waited all this time to hear those very words fall from his lips. Yet all you could say was: "So? That doesn't change anything." The lie made you crumble on the inside but you continued to speak. "You said it yourself, Carlos, we aren't good for each other. That I... deserve more."

"And you do!" Carlos spluttered, hands flailing about. "You deserve more than a better man, Y/N. You deserve the fucking universe. But I was wrong! I was wrong to say that we aren't good together. We can be good together. I think you complete me and if you let me even have the chance, I would be the luckiest man ever to be with you."

Carlos' hands were now gently holding your face, thumb gently brushing your heated skin. Your heart was now pounding in your eardrums. Your throat was caught. You felt impossibly warm. Your eyes burned, but no tears came out. "I... I gave you so many chances," You whispered.

Carlos' eyes softened at your broken voice as a sorry expression fell over his face. "I know," He sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself, cariño. But if I have to spend forever trying to make it up to you, I gladly will."

"Carlos," You sighed, closing your eyes. You were annoyed with yourself. Annoyed at the fact you were leaning into his touch and annoyed at the familiar heartache that always let him get away with what he wanted. "I'm terrified. I don't want to hurt again. I don't want to hurt you either."

Carlos felt his heart clench, jaw taut with irritation. Every fibre of him hated that you even had to say that. But you were right. You always were. He whispered softly, letting his forehead meet yours, "You won't. I promise. I promise to be a better man. Just please give me a chance... give us a chance."

You opened your eyes to see those desperate puppy eyes boring into yours. You brought your hand to the one holding on your face, rubbing it gently. You knew your answer the moment he asked. "Okay," You responded with a small smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Initially, it was hard to get as comfortable as you once were with Carlos. You took every step with caution and he could tell by the scrunch of your nose and the chewing of you lip when you pondered for a moment too long. It was eating at him but there was nothing he could do but fufill his promise to you.

Carlos took you out on several dates as opposed to the few he previously taken you on. They weren't grand. No. Instead they were intimate. Dates that showed he was putting effort in. Like the time he decided to have a dinner date at his house where all the food was prepared by him. It was disastrous to say the least but you were also convinced he had gotten his sisters to help him out given that there was burnt food in the trash and it's aroma covered by candles and perfume in the air.

A sunset picnic followed after that. It was one of your favourites. The sun was setting, of course, and the warm breeze brushed past you while you ended up reading one of your favourite childhood books to Carlos. He listened intently as his hands roamed your skin. It wasn't necessarily sensual but it was intimate. Like all he wanted to do was just bathe in your presence. And bathe Carlos did as he began to ask you questions about your childhood and your family.

It bugged him that despite being with you for some time, he knew nothing about you. At least not really. Knowing your body reactions felt superficial in comparison to finding out you had a family pet that you cherished so much, your financial hardships, or that your parents disapproved of your modelling. That really hurt him. You didn't have anyone close to you. And he had just left you.

Carlos mentioned to you how much of a polla he truly was, apologising for all you had gone through. And while you laughed at his comment, you thanked him, hesitantly pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

Carlos gazed at you as his heart throbbed at your action. He stared at you with a twinkle in his eyes. There was something about this moment... he wasn't quite sure whether it was the setting sun that made you glow or that breeze that made your hair gently fly while your perfume consumed him, but it made him nervous and happy.

Carlos smiled at your raised brows. "You're just so beautiful, cariño."

You sucked in a sharp breath. That look in his eyes... it was the same one you gave him when you were just mesmerised by his beauty. And now he looked at you the same way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Three months had passed and you had finally stepped into the paddock after what had felt like forever. Everyone was psyched that you were back here. Fans were screaming your name and the drivers had finally seen the reason behind the sudden change in Carlos.

"So... you and Y/N?" Lando queried carefully, watching you talk to Lily and Alex about all the things the both of you had missed.

Carlos peered over to you, catching your passing eyes. His heart skipped a beat at your little wave and smiling eyes. He grinned at you and waved back.

Lando watched the exchange with curious eyes, pulling a feigned pained expression. "Yeah... you and Y/N."

Carlos rolled his eyes at the man who had become one of his closest friends. "Yes, Lando, we're together. We've... we've been taking it slow. So I don't fuck it up."

Lando smiled at Carlos' words. He slapped his hand on the Spaniard's shoulder. "Good," He chirped, before dropping his smile. "You better not. That's basically my best friend right there. You hurt her, you better keep an eye out for Lily and I, and Alex by association."

Carlos chuckled. "Imagine if Fewtrell heard that."

"What Max doesn't know won't hurt him," Lando shrugged.

Carlos smiled in amusement, finding you walking towards him with the previously mentioned couple. "What are you two trying to get my lovely lady to do?" He asked with narrowed eyes when you appeared with a suspiciously wide smile. A beautiful smile, but suspicious nonetheless.

You flushed at his words, taking in a deep breath. "I may have been convinced to do a bit of... ugh, golf."

Golf. Your most dreaded sport. From the moment you knew what it was, you could not think of a more boring sport to save your life. No offence to Lily, but it was an old man's sport. And every F1 driver playing it did not help. But Lily being the amazing girl she was had changed your mind.

Lando cheered and Carlos' eyes widened slightly. "How did you manage to convince her? Even I couldn't get her to join me. Me out of all people."

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. "I think your win from me golfing is a little different from Lily's. Lily wants me to learn."

"Yeah? And what do I want that is so different?" Carlos asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to me.

You stood on your toes a bit, reaching his ear. "Quieres verme con esa diminuta ropa de golf," You whispered in Spanish, pulling away from his ear. "Esa es la diferencia." You want to see me in those teeny little golf clothes. That's the difference.

You felt a familiar tingle creep up your spine as you met Carlos' darkened eyes and tightened grip on your waist. His tongue darted out, swiping his bottom lip while he eyed you carefully. You were a vixen. A final smug smile rested on his face. "You're right, cariño. That's exactly what I want."

Lily looked at you two blankly. "Anyone catch that?" She asked Alex and Lando, who both shook their heads. She sighed, "Leave it to us to not know one of the most popular languages in the world. See you tomorrow, lovebirds. Try keep your hands off each other, there's kids."

Lando gaped at Lily's side glance towards him. "Well I never!"

Carlos grinned at Lando's words, keeping an eye on you. "I'll try."

You drew a sharp breath. What kind of mess had you exactly set up for yourself?

━━━━━━━━━━━

To be honest, Carlos wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting when you had told him that your manager had sorted out a golf outfit since it was not like you were playing an official tournament. But when you arrived to meet Carlos, Lando, Lily, and Alex at the golf course, Carlos let out the most strained sigh he had ever released.

You were a model, sorry, a supermodel, you looked good in everything already. But you dressed up for his favourite pass time was killing him.

You stood in front of him in the sun visor that hid your long hair, wearing the absolute tightest sleeveless polo shirt known to mankind tucked into small little pink skirt that rested at the middle of your thighs.

God, you were leaving very little for Carlos to imagine. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do to you first: 'accidentally' splash that white shirt with water because he just knew by those nipples that you weren't wearing a bra or excuse the both of you to the bathroom where he could bend you over and fuck you senselessly.

Lily let out a low whistle when she saw you. "Y/N, the woman you are..." She clicked her tongue while shaking her head.

You laughed lightly as Alex look at her incredulously. "I'm right here, you know."

"Alex, are you a woman named Y/N?" Lily asked genuinely.

"I– no," Alex stuttered with furrowed brows while Lando grinned.

"That’s what I thought!" Lilly gave a smug smile, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek before linking her arm with yours.

Alex stood with Carlos, blinking blankly at your retreating figures. “I don’t get it,” Alex told the Spaniard.

Lando chuckled while Carlos placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You don’t need to. It’s Y/N. Now come on. From what I know, you have a lot to learn from Lily.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos was already bracing himself for whatever antics you were going to put up. He was expecting your full on ass up against him, teasing him to the point where he did end up taking you in the bathroom.

But you had decided to go the hard way.

When Carlos was teaching you how to hit the ball and what angle to use the golf club, he severely used the opportunity to put his hands on your hips. He thought you were going to fall back into his chest and press up on him. But instead you decided to listen to his instructions all so intently.

Then he saw it.

Your tongue darting out past those perfect lips of yours, wetting all those crevices with a natural sheen before you sunk your teeth to concentrate on hitting the ball.

And after he had seen it, Carlos couldn’t see anything else normally. Or he would argue that you wouldn’t let him.

No way was the slip of the golf ball accidental. Not when he watched you slowly bend down to get it, revealing your delicious cleavage in the so very unfortunate cut of your polo. Not when he watched your pink skirt cling to your thighs tightly as your lips jutted out to blow away the dirt from the ball.

It was a golf ball, for God’s sake. Of course it was going to have dirt on it.

And as you stood up, you turned so your ass faced him, skirt hugging your ass tight enough so he could see a sliver of your bare pussy.

Carlos could swear that he had never clutched a golf club as hard as he had in his life.

To make matters worse, all you did was strut away with a smirk while you shamelessly checked him out all throughout the games, leaving him with a semi-hard he tried his best to hide behind the thin handle of the club.

You were torturing him without even touching him. And he hated it.

Carlos couldn’t even excuse himself nor you to the bathroom after you purposefully decide to cling to Lily, who was suggesting different methods to play.

The dreadful day had finally come to an end as everyone began to feel the kick of playing golf for so long. You and Carlos bid goodbye to Lily, Alex, and Lando, after your boyfriend definitely did not inform you that you were going back home with him instead of your manager.

After packing your things away in Carlos’ red Ferrari, you happily took a seat in the front, letting out a small yawn as you stretched your arms.

Carlos quietly eyed you as he reversed out of the parking lot. “Tired?” He asked.

You nodded with slightly heavy eyelids. “It takes a lot of energy.”

“I agree,” Carlos nodded. “Teasing takes a lot of energy, hmm?”

Your eyes were fully awake now. You peered at the side of Carlos’ face. His jaw was taut and hands tightly gripped the wheel. You tried to hide your teetering smile but it was difficult. You just loved riling up Carlos. Especially sexually.

“A lot,” You agreed, also nodding before you moved your eyes out your window to prevent you from fully grinning.

Carlos internally sighed. You were a menace.

As he drove to his hotel, an idea popped into Carlos’ head. He knew the way to hotel and golf course like the back of his hand. He also knew that in two left turns, there was the most sketchy but quiet road in town.

Carlos pushed down the indicator, watching the left arrow blink rapidly at him while he turned the wheel. He could see your head turn to him in curiosity.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

Carlos smiled softly, shaking his head as if it was nothing while taking the last left turn.

You raised a brow. You feigned a gasp. “Is this where you kill me? Is this how I die? On some road in Miami?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Yes. How did you know?” He deadpanned.

Carlos parked the car in between some trees, ensuring that all the windows were fairly covered because no matter what, at the end of the day, he cared for both for your images.

Carlos turned to find your eyes already on him, waiting for an explanation. “You know the last time we met in Miami?”

You blinked blankly at him. “How could I forget?” You retorted sarcastically, covering up any last few traces of pain associated with that trip.

Carlos pursed his lips, smiling apologetically. He took your hands into his, rubbing them gently. “Well, when we were in the car, I had this vision—well I always have this vision but it was strong then, anyways—I had this vision of fucking you in this car, on the highway, ass on the wheel, making a mess on me, and making you cum so hard that you cover that Ferrari logo.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes dilated in pleasure. Suddenly you felt tingly all over your body and a strong heat pulsating in between your thighs. You pressed your thighs together at the thought.

“So I thought,” Carlos confused, smirking at your action, “although you’ve been a tease, I would still like to fuck the life out of you, cariño. Isn’t that so nice of me?” He asked as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You wish you had the urge to roll your eyes. You really wish you did. But your breath was caught in your throat and you just felt a dribble of arousal leak past your aching core.

Instead you moved over to Carlos, putting a leg on either side of him and brought your lips to his.

Carlos immediately responded, hands flying towards your hips, gripping on your skin while he intensely kissed you back. He kissed you not just as a starved man, but a parched man. As if your lips were water and all he could do was drink you.

Your stomach churned with a familiar fire of pleasure. Your skin raised with goosebumps as Carlos’ thumbs circled your skin through the fairly thin fabric of your polo. A muffled moan was lodged in your throat the sound of Carlos’ grunts.

Carlos’ hands moved from your hips to the hem of your skirt. His hands dipped under the pink material that had been enticing him all day, feeling the ample flesh of your bare ass. An audible moan came from his throat as you had moved your lips to his neck to stop drinking those beautiful sounds.

“You’re such a tease, you know that? No fucking underwear so I could see those juicy lips of yours? Were you just waiting for me to take you from behind? What if Lando saw? Hmm?” Carlos queried, groping your ass while his fiery puppy browns pierced into your eyes.

You let out a small whine against his heated neck, bucking your hips against his cock.

“You like that, cariño? The idea of getting caught?” Carlos asked even though he clearly knew the answer if he looked down at the dark stain beginning to form on the front of your skirt.

Carlos smiled softly at your impatient eyes, pressed your hips onto his groin. “Grind on me, cariño. Make a mess on me,” He whispered, taking your lips with his once again.

You moaned as you rocked your hips back and forth in his bulge. The wave of arousal you craved slowly creeped up on you. The hard textured material of his shirt felt like a sin against your pussy. Carlos’ hands helping you keep your pace and making sure you felt every part of hard-on set you on fire.

Smoothly, Carlos used one of his hands to sneak up your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers leaving you in a blaze as he grazed your skin. “That’s it, cariño, that’s it,” He murmured against your lips. His fingers confused past the apex of your thigh, nearing your burning core.

Fuck, were you turned on. The heat radiating off your pussy was dangerous. His thumb edged towards your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves ever so slowly.

“Shit,” you swore, arching your back against the steering wheel. Your pussy ground up against his fingers while trying to press further on his cock; entertaining both levels of pleasure.

Carlos felt his cock tighten painfully against his hands when he moved his eyes from you and down to where your pussy met him. God, you had made a mess. His eyes flickered back up, watching you obscenely cover the Prancing Horse. “Merde,” He cussed.

This was how he wanted you. Fuck. Making a claim on everything that belonged to him with your body. Just the way he wanted.

You could feel Carlos dip his head forward, giving a long lick to your right nipple. You were sure your white polo was now see through, letting your pebbled mounds become available for Carlos’ disposal. You moaned, feeling your pussy become sticky with pleasure as Carlos pulled down the cut of your polo, freeing your breasts from those teasing confines, watching them bounce in admiration before he wrapped his lips around your nipple.

You arched your back even further, pushing your breast into his mouth while the other hand resting on your hip moved to fondle your lonely nipple, leaving you to do the rest of the work. "Carlos," You cried out breathlessly, speeding the pace of your hips as a familiar coil began to unwind at the pit of your stomach.

Carlos knew that tone better than he knew his circuits. Unlatching his swollen lips from your nipple, he looked up at you, making you moan even further. It was hard to disagree that Carlos was a good looking man, but right now, you were seeing him like no other: puffy lips, sweat-ridden tousled brown hair, cheeks freckled with pinks and reds, dark lust-hazed eyes... all for you.

"Don't cum just yet, cariño. I need to be inside you," Carlos panted, his tongue swiping his lips drenched.

You shuddered at the action before looking at him in dismay. "Carlos. Papi, no. Por favor." Please.

Just when Carlos thought his cock couldn't harden any further, you had proven the impossible. He held your chin in his hand, forcing you to hold his gaze. "Don't do that, cariño. Don't papi me. I'm already being so nice, hmm? Be a good girl and listen to be, okay baby?"

You sighed in frustration but you hips eased it's speed, succumbing to Carlos without a second thought.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of your head, continuing to rub your clit excruciatingly slow. "That's my girl," He praised, pressing you right against the steering wheel as he lifted his hips up.

Naturally your hands fell to his shorts, eagerly pushing down the pair of clothing as far as you could in this space. Your mouth salivated at the large bulge in his grey boxers. It was like his cock was greeting you; aching to me to you. In awe, you put your hand over his hard cock, softly brushing over the pulsating bulge.

"Fuck," Carlos sighed, eyes closed, feeling like he was on an obscene high already. He felt you gently trace over his thick cock, going even slower when you reached his tip, painstakingly grazing his slit through his boxers. He shot out his hand, holding yours in place.

Carlos swallowed all the saliva that he had gathered after seeing your wide, almost innocent, eyes beaming at him while a sickly sweet smile sprawled across your face. Jesus. How did he ever let you go? Now that he had you, he most certainly couldn't.

You grinned, knowing exactly how to awake the monster within him. You pushed down his boxers, letting him fully settle into the seat of the Ferrari and his cock stand against his toned stomach with a shade that almost made it look like it was angry with you for taking this long.

Gathering all the saliva in your mouth, you let the hot clear fluid slowly fall from your lips and onto his cock. Carlos sighed at the feeling, thumb reaching out to gather the last few drops from your lips before you brought it into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the pad of his thumb, giving him a pre-show before you released him.

Carlos watched as you bent down towards his cock, using your hand to rub your saliva down his throbbing cock. You could feel him pulsing in your hands, dying to be inside you. You lifted yourself back up, signalling Carlos you were ready.

Carlos' hands skated up your skirt, grabbing your bare hips as he guided you over his cock. All this time he had been teasing you as awfully as you had teased him today, so when you felt his cock against your wet folds, you let out a gasp while you hips bucked against involuntarily.

"Jesus fucking Christ," You swore, shuddering at the intoxicating high swarming through your body.

Carlos' cock throbbed against your pussy. He loved your sensitivity, so he pushed himself through your folds again, tip rubbing against your stimulated clit. He grunted against you. He could watch your body defy you over and over again.

But as much as he loved it, Carlos had been waiting to be in you liked a starved man.

Carlos' eyes flittered up to yours while he slowly pushed his cock into you. He memorised you carefully. Every twitch, every quiver. Your parter lips, the frequency of your moan. The contortion of your eyebrows while pleasure laced your eyes. He could remember you like this forever; his beautiful girl.

"Carlos," You panted, "more, please."

"Your wish is my command, princesa," Carlos whispered against your skin, pushing his hips further into you. His hands tightened around your waist, the warm grip of your folds pulling him in like a drug.

You knew it then and you knew it know. Carols had bewitched you. You would never be able to get enough of this feeling. The feeling of his cock jerking into your pussy because he just can't control himself. Nor the feeling of sucking him in like a vice because you want him all to yourself.

Carlos moaned, thrusting his aching cock while he muttered obscenities as if he was under some sort of spell. For what it was worth, he was. Every day, you entranced him. But right now, the sight of you against the Prancing Horse that was waiting to be covered in your cum... your saliva-covered breasts bouncing, your arched back against the wheel... it was driving him crazy. You were driving him crazy.

Your hands travelled to his hair, lips grazing past the bridge of his nose while you groaned. Your fingers wrapped his dishevelled brown waves around them, giving his locks a slight tug that coursed down his body.

Your hips ground against Carlos harshly, attempting to take any extra sliver of euphoria. His cock drove in and out of you at a rate that left no innocence in this car. It was lewd; the slapping of your sticky skin against one another, your breathless pants mingling together, and the fogged windows occurring from your feverish skin. Fuck, the both of you were in overdrive.

You let out a small whimper when you felt your body start to shake. You looked down at Carlos, who was peppering your bare shoulder with long sloppy kisses as he continued to thrust. Your eyes softened and the coil in your stomach began to tighten. "Carlos, I–"

Carlos smiled at the urgency in your voice. He began to pick up his pace, let out a few breathless pants. "Cum for me, mi amor."

You shook your head. "No, fuck, fuck, I–" You closed your eyes at the nearing high but forced them to open again, finding those puppy browns staring you down with confusion and maybe, just maybe, a bit of trauma from the last time. But you just had to say it. "I love you, Carlos. I love you so fucking much, mi amor. And I'll love you forever," You sobbed out.

Carlos gazed at you with wide eyes, his pace faltering slightly. As much as it turned him on, his heart was probably ten times happier. He felt warm; complete. He softened his gaze, bringing one hand to your cheek. His heart swelled at your natural lean in. Brushing his thumb gently, "I love you so much, Y/N. So much. And I'll never forget to remind you until my very last breath. You're my entire universe, querida (darling)."

Your eyes watered with a sickening amount of love as your body was hit with wave after wave. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed, clenching your eyes, a few tears slowly falling. Your hips bucked up against him, reaching for the high as Carlos rubbed your clit in fast circles.

"That's it, mi amor. Cum for me. Cover the the entire fucking wheel. Make a mess," Carlos encouraged, pushing you against the wheel, making your body convulse even further at the new texture.

"Fuck!" You swore, pussy throbbing and hips involuntarily jerking, reaching your climax.

Carlos groaned at the tight clench around his cock.

"Cum for me, Carlos. Look at the mess I made. All because of you. All for you," You coaxed, riding your sensitive pussy over him slowly.

His eyes flickered to the black Prancing Horse covered in your arousal; each little crevice of the wheel soaking up your cum. God, the monster you made him... He grunted, speeding up his pace as the coil in his stomach began to unwind quickly.

"Fuck, fuck," Carlos moaned loudly, holding you tightly to him. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," He muttered like a mantra, hips stuttering against you. He twitched inside you, feeling the hot salty strings of his cum spill into you.

"Oh, fuck," He sighed again, head falling on your chest while you moaned at the feeling of his cum inside you, clenching just one more time. His cock throbbed with another small high, pumping the last few ropes of his cum into you.

You let out a slow exhale, lifting Carlos' head by tilting his chin to face you. You rubbed his face gently, leaving a trail of kisses on his face as you both calmed down. You eyed the fogged windows and turned to see the Prancing Horse that had started this whole thing in the first place. You laughed softly.

"Well that was a stylish vision you had there," You remarked with a grin.

Carlos grinned right back at you. "Oh, cariño, we are doing that at least once every week."

"Oh, really?" You teased, putting your hands around his neck. "Well this type of car sex is definitely my style," You agreed after some feigned thinking.

Carlos smiled, tucking your sweaty hair behind your ears. He placed a long kiss on your lips. "It's our style."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[yandere-writer-momo]

I had this idea in my head but I just couldn’t type it into a story. Chances are it be well near 15k word or more. So enjoy this super depressing head canon/ short story creation!!

Yandere Baki Shorts: One More Time

Biscuit Oliva x Afab Reader x Regretful Yandere Reverse Harem (Baki, Jack, Hanayama, and Katsumi)

TW: Angst and mentions of emotional neglect

(Your name) is Tokugawa’s granddaughter so everyone tolerated her excessive kindness since they did not want to upset Tokugawa. Though it was no secret he was indifferent to her and often ignored her in favor of the fighters of his tournament. She gave a lot of her nuturing love because she wanted nothing more in the world than to be loved in return. Sadly these men were emotionally constipated so they did not understand her affection and unknowingly took her for granted… she had an inkling that they did not like her but she still tried to cheer them up and encourage them to keep pushing through… despite no one doing the same for her (not even her grandfather)

Hanayama ignored her whenever she made an attempt to speak to him, Katsumi was always ‘too busy’ to spend time with her, Baki complained about Kozue all the time to her and would cut her off every time she spoke, and Jack was just mean. Jack was the most vocal of his distaste for her…

- Jack was the one who pushed her off the deep end. She visited him since he wasn’t at the Baki and Yujiro fight to check on him. And she offers him words of encouragement and support but he shut her down by saying, “Of course I’d get sympathy from someone as pathetic as you. Can’t you get the hint that no one wants you around? Why don’t you just do everyone a favor and disappear.”

She felt her entire world fall apart around her but she just asked Jack if she can just sit beside him for five more minutes and then she’ll never appear again. That she will disappear from his and everyone’s life if he just let her sit beside him for a few minutes. Jack relented so she rested her head on his large arm. He was disgusted by her touch but if it meant she’d leave him alone, then he would do it. Jack had no idea she simply wished for comfort since he himself had never experienced comfort (despite her constant attempts to comfort him since she felt he was the most traumatized).

After the promised five minutes passed, she rushed out of his apartment in tears. She ended up leaving her jacket behind since Jack had cried on it (she used it to cover his face since he didn’t want her to see him cry). He sighed in relief and gets back to watching the fight he believes should have been him

(Your name) was there for everyone in her free time. She was there for Hanayama when his mother died, she was the mediator between Baki and Kozue when they argued, she sat beside Katsumi while he was in the hospital, and she was at the hospital with Jack and even pitched in for some of his hospital bills since he sustained so many injuries… she was a very nurturing light but they didn’t appreciate her. No one cared about her.

None of them ever celebrated her birthday with her and they didn’t visit her in the hospital when she was sick. They didn’t know her favorite food or color. They didn’t know her favorite restaurant or her nervous ticks. They hardly responded to her texts if at all… (your name) was so lonely it wasn’t even funny.

So she decided to go to the family’s rumored well for a wish. An old wishing well from an old scroll she found hidden within a secret wall of the Tokugawa estate. It was written by one of the first relatives who wished for the Tokugawa family to become wealthy. Btu there was a price to pay… but it’s blurred out. Regardless of the unknown danger, (your name) travels up the mountain alone with the old map in hand… to make a wish.

Rather than wish for something selfish, she wishes for her friends- no the people she cared about, to have all their desires come true, but in exchange, she offered the spirit in the well her life. She’s never been touched, she’s still pure. (Your name) could be of value, right? But the spirit pitied her so they had her disappear from the Japan for five years... they wanted her tormentors to suffer the heart ache she had for the rest of their lives

The baki men all have their dreams come true… Shinshinkai dojo became world renowned for the best karate, Hanayama was successful as the leader to his family, Baki became the strongest creature in the world, and Jack defeated his father … but they were without her love and affection for five years… they missed her. They don’t feel like they deserved the success because she wasn’t there to cheer them all on. It all felt empty without the unwavering support of the bubbly (your name). They went insane in their search for her but she disappeared without a trace…

Baki often found himself glance at the stands after a fight in hopes he’d hear (your name)‘s voice cheer for him and sing his praises. That she would run over to him to check his wounds and treat him to dinner. He swore he would thank her this time and he’d give her some compliments himself. He had seen some pictures of her and had forgotten how pretty she was…

Katsumi would often unconsciously reach for a bento box on the bench he usually sat on at the dojo. He missed (your name)’s cheery smile as she handed him a home cooked meal. He swore he would make time for her if she asked to hang out with him. Katsumi would take her to every restaurant and fun date spot she wanted to try if she came back through the Shinshinkai’s doors. Katsumi would spend his time researching date spots in hopes of her sudden return. He wanted to make up for all the broken promises he’s made to her over the years…

Hanayama often found himself glance at the door in hopes she would come in and ask to walk through his rose garden with him. He made sure to add an extra chair in his office so she could sit beside him and talk to him as he worked. Hanayama swore he would listen to her her this time.

Jack is the most distraught. He was the last to ever see her and he still had her jacket… he felt so guilty. He hadn’t moved out his dinky apartment in hopes she would walk through his door again and ask to sit beside him. That she would want to share a meal with him and rest her head on his arm. Jack would do anything for her to come back… she was the only one who wasn’t afraid of him. Jack would give her the effort she deserved if she came back to him

Her memories of her so called ‘friends’ are wiped. She can no longer remember any of them or much about her life at the Tokugawa estate. The spirit sent her off to America where she comes to be under the care of a lonely Biscuit Oliva who had lost Maria. He’s instantly taken with her and he helps her since she seems so lost… he was lost too. And they found each other.

She spent five years by Biscuit’s side, where he spoiled her rotten. She was granted her true wish of being loved the way she deserved. Her true wish was granted and the Baki men paid the price.

Biscuit and her have a beautiful relationship. He talks with her and he listens to her. He remembered every small detail she shared about herself, even ones she did not verbally share. He’s so considerate of her and he helps her build self esteem. Biscuit constantly made time for her and always put his best efforts into making her happy. And Biscuit never stopped giving her compliments about her appearance or of a task she completed that she felt was minuscule. Biscuit claimed everything she did was perfect to him and he’d never change a thing about her. She often found herself crying here and there for no reason… like there was a part of her that finally started to heal

Five years later and Baki went to see Biscuit to challenge him for a fight out of boredom. Baki is shocked to hear such a familiar laugh and he runs into Biscuit’s room to find (your name) and Biscuit enjoying a meal together. She looked so beautiful in her designer dress… like a princess from a fairytale… but she had always been a princess now that Baki thought about it

Baki immediately collapsed in front of her and hugged her knees while he sobbed. He told her how much he and the others have missed her. How they were so sorry for the way they treated her, that she could come home… but she had no idea who he was… she didn’t know him. She didn’t remember him and it sent Baki spiraling. Baki is insistent that she’ll remember if she returned to Japan but she declined his offer. She told him that despite not knowing him, she was happy that his dreams came true

Baki refused to leave the Arizona prison until she returned back with him. She said she would so long as Biscuit can come with her. Baki is so thrilled… but the other men are much worse than Baki. So much worse.

When she arrived at the Tokugawa estate, Katsumi is the first to run to her and pull her into a hug. He’s bawling his eyes out as he hed her body as close to his body as he could. He babbled about his accomplishments and how he wished she was there to see them… that she belonged by his side. She just awkwardly pushed him away and apologized to him because she had no idea who he was. Katsumi went silent in disbelief and at first had thought it was a joke… but Baki frowned at him.

Baki explained to the other martial artists that (your name) completely lost her memories. They don’t believe him at first. Especially Katsumi who kept bringing up memories he had of her being at every tournament and by his side in the hospital. He convinced himself she was in love with him. (Delulu isn’t the solulu)

Hanyama just stared at her while she held Biscuit’s hand for comfort. He’s consumed with jealousy (on the inside) when he saw the way she looked at Biscuit… she used to look at him like that.

Hanayama quietly shared how the last five years of his life was without her and of his feelings for her… Hanayama admitted that he couldn’t date or sleep with anyone since she haunted his dreams since her disappearance. Hanayama kept his rose garden beautiful all year round since she loved it so much. Kaoru wanted to walk through the garden with her and pluck roses with her so she could display them in the compound… Hanayama even had a bench placed in the spot she’d always kneel in the grass in… he would be better for her if she came back to him… Hanayama would marry her on the spot

Hanayama offered her a lot of power, pleasure, and luxuries if she returned to his side but she politely turned him down. (He continued to bring it up whenever Katsumi or Baki weren’t speaking… it was so awkward)

Katsumi then spoke up about the last five years without her and about the true love he held for her. Katsumi admitted he searched for her face in the stands every time he had a tournament and he’d search for her when he was training people at the dojo. He never gave up his search for her. He felt awful for not making time for her and all the broken promises he made. Katsumi vowed to make as much time for her as she wanted if she just returned to his side… Katsumi swore that he would be an amazing husband to her. That he wanted to start a family with her and build her dream house… Katsumi poured his heart out to her with a pink blush on his cheeks. He sounded like he was sharing a dream that would never be in reach (delusional mf)

Baki then shared the last five years without (your name).. Baki and Kozue finally broke up for good a few years back due to their differences. Baki didn’t have the (your name) to help him make up with Kozue or to be his voice of reason. He didn’t have the (your name) to make sure he ate or that he rested enough. He didn’t have her compliment him or congratulate him anymore… he missed her motherly affection. He missed someone being proud of him. Baki rested his head on her lap while (your name) sits beside Biscuit. He kept trying to get her to rub her fingers through his hair but she swatted his hands away

Jack remained silent the entire time. He’s trying his best to remain calm but he looked angry… and he is. He’s so upset that she had been fine this entire time and she hadn’t came back to see him… he doesn’t believe she lost her memories because she’s so scared of him. She was never scared of him before… he wants to talk to her alone. His eyes don’t leave her the entire time while he clenched his jaw

Tokugawa brought up how she was always there for all the men in the room and how everyone had missed her so much but not a single person brought up any memories where one of them had been there for her… she asked if any of them knew her birthday and none of them knew. They were ‘so close’ to her but didn’t even know her birthday…

Biscuit pitched in and shared the date and the exact time of her birthday. The older man gave her a big smile before he began to list off her favorite color, food, and her hobbies. He shared all her quirks and her interests. It touched her heart… Biscuit knew everything about her which caused her to burst into tears .

The men all try to hand her handkerchiefs but she rejected them (she accepted Biscuit’s). She can’t explain to them why she started to cry, but she tells everyone that something within her was so happy… that Biscuit made her so happy.

(Your name) sadly had no desire to get to know any of the guys again because she’s happy with Biscuit. She tells them all that she’s happy they achieved their goals and that she’s proud of them but she no longer has a desire to be a part of their lives. Memories or not, from the way they talked about her, it seemed like she was the one who put in all the effort. Not a single one of them brought up a memory in which they did something for her… and that made her sad. Perhaps it was better she didn’t remember any of them

They cannot accept her rejection. Baki and Katsumi begin to beg and bargain. While Hanayama threatened her family (Tokugawa), but Biscuit held her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He began to try to take her away but Baki blocked the exit. He’s frantic and his eyes are crazy. He began to beg her not to disappear again. “I don’t want to live in a world where you aren’t there… I can’t do it again. Please stay.”

She tells him, “Perhaps that was the kind of world I lived in… a world where no one cared about me until I disappeared. Please live a good life and don’t forget to take care of yourself, Baki.”

Baki broke down and that’s when Jack rushed forward and grabbed her. He hurriedly brought her to the garden at the Tokugawa estate at an inhuman speed while the others all chased after him (especially Oliva)

Jack began to scream at her once they were far enough from everyone. He’s yelling on the top of his lungs while his face turned red and tears all from his cognac eyes. He finally fell apart in front of her after he tried to hold himself together for all these years.

“You do remember! Stop lying… you know who I am and that’s why you can’t look me in the face because you remember our last conversation all those years ago…”

“I swear I don’t remember-“

“You’ve never been scared of me before!” Jack screamed, the blonde ran his large hand through his short blonde locks. Jack tried to reel himself in but the emotions broke through the dam he held together for the last five years. “You’ve never looked at me like I’m a monster!”

(Your name) flinched at his sharp tone, her eyes wide in shock when Jack suddenly fell to his knees and held her hands. The blonde placed his jaw in her hands while he cried. The shouts of the others can be heard as they make their way towards the two of them. Yet it felt like it was only Jack and her left in the world in this very moment.

“I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to tell you to disappear!” Everyone froze in shock when they make it to the outer perimeter of the garden. Their mouths open like a fish out of water at what Jack admitted… he was the reason? He was the reason she disappeared? “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

(Your name) squirmed when Jack pressed his lips to her hand in a way to apologize. She didn’t know why, but she needed to leave. She wanted to get away from him because he was scaring her. But his iron grip on her hands prevented her from escape.

“You can hit me… you can do whatever you want to me so long as you come back to me. I won’t be mean to you ever again.” Jack whispered into the palms of her hands as he guided her right hand to cup his scarred cheek. “You can sit beside me as much as you like. You can wear my jacket on your head when you need to cry and you can share meals with me. W-we can go for hikes together and you can sit on my back when I do pushups. I’ll do anything for you to be by my side and to not look at me like that.”

(Your name) can only stand there in shock as the giant man before her now appeared to be more like a lost child eager for love than a man… it broke her heart but he wasn’t her responsibility. If he was the reason why she lost her memories in the first place then he deserved her forgiveness the least.

And that’s when all the memories flooded in. The loneliness. The heart break. The broken promises. The constant rejection. She lived such a pathetic life before she was granted a second chance… these men didn’t deserve her. They never did.

“Jack?” Jack perked up at his name, his breath hitched as he clung to the sound of his name leaving her lips for the first time in years. He missed when she spoke his name. To him, she was meant to speak his name… she was his.

“Yes?”

“Do me a favor and forget about me.” Jack felt himself shatter at her words, the blonde now her her hands tightly to his face. His breathing now erratic.

“What?” Jack was in disbelief. He didn’t hear that right… this wasn’t his (your name). There was no way his sweet (your name) would tell him to forget her. She would never reject him. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Forget about me. Treat me as if I never existed.” (Your name) repeated as she tried to move her hands off his face. “You don’t need to have someone as pathetic as me beside you.”

No… no. No. No. No. No. No. She was supposed to forgive him. She was supposed to kiss his scarred cheeks while she happily accepted his apology with tears of joy in her eyes. (Your name) should know he never apologized and that he truly sought forgiveness.

(You name) snapped her hands out of his hold and turned on her heel to leave. She ignored the men who had once constantly let her down now try to gain her affection. She didn’t need these people. She didn’t need empty promises and sweet words… (your name) just needed her lover, Biscuit Oliva.

“I want to go home.” (Your name) told Biscuit with a smile. She took his large hand in her small one and gave it a squeeze.

“Of course, dear. We can do anything you want.” (Your name) rested her head on Biscuit’s arm as he lead her out of the estate. She ignored the screams of her name and the loud begging of Katsumi and Baki.

They never turned their heads for her when she begged for love and when she’d ask to spend time with them… why should she turn hers?

(Your name) finally had the love she always wanted while they had fulfilled their goals… how could they be so selfish to want more?

“(Your name)! Please stay in Japan! We can get married and I’ll take you on dates every weekend!” Baki shouted while Katsumi tried to one up him.

“I’ll take you out everyday and we can get married as soon as tomorrow!”

“I’ll give you the world if you turn around and come to me right this moment.” Hanayama piped up from behind her. “If you don’t turn around, then the Tokugawa family will be no more.”

Tokugawa began to shout out to the granddaughter he neglected for years in favor of these men who didn’t value him. “Please don’t let him do that. You love your grandpa, don’t you? You can be the heir to the Tokugawa family!”

Poor Jack remained on his knees in the garden. His brown eyes dull as he watched her leave with Biscuit without so much as a glance behind her.

For the first time in five years, Jack and the others have suffered a true defeat. All they wanted was one more time.

Just one more time and they’d make it all right… for they could not accept that they already wasted so many chances to make things right due to their own selfishness. They had lost the one love of their lives forever.

[tobi-smp]

you know, with hindsight now what it is I really do think a more literal reading of c!techno's chat would have helped his characterization a Lot

and mind you, this was originally intended to be the case, and very well may have been intended all along even if it wasn't usually emphasized within the lore

and don't get me wrong, I Get why it fell out of favor within the fandom. it coincides with a Very storied ableist trope that demonizes DID and disorders adjacent to it, and Can be spoken about in a way that is essentially indistinguishable from it depending on the word choice.

but the thing is ! not only does it not Have to be an allegory for DID, I straight up don't think it is At All.

because we Know what it's an allegory for. It's His Chat. there's technoblade playing the game, and there's the thousands of people watching with expectations and wants that he's compelled to meet (or, at the very least, pacify through Entertainment).

and this makes much Much more sense when conceived of as Supernatural. be that spirits, gods, demons, or anything that could fill that role. separate entities that, for whatever reason, only techno can sense the presence of and be affected by.

and of course, to an extent this is true for all creators. everyone had an audience that they were meant to entertain and the choices they made were influenced by that fact.

but technoblade came in with a Very distinct set of expectations that heavily impacted the choices he was Expected to make and the kinds of stories that he could tell. he was more or less a living legend in real life just as much as he was in roleplay, and these things were inherently connected.

and it's like !

when c!technoblade says he was peer pressured into killing tubbo at the red festival he Is technically talking about what happened within the roleplay. schlatt was demanding it from him, there's a sort of pressure there. but schlatt was also the dictator they were set to kill, and techno has never had any trouble fighting people he considered a dictator before, and certainly not Schlatt of all people.

but he WAS being peer pressured By His Audience. by thousands of people, most of which were demanding blood Because It Was The Expectation, because it'd be Fun.

out of universe technoblade made the decision he thought would be the most Entertaining, and he was right! consistently he made choices that would let him do the most bombastic Spectacles possible. And It's Great. he's Excellent at pulling dramatics and making a compelling scene that give other people room to work off of. in that sense I'd consider techno an Excellent actor, and I have to imagine that he was fun to work with.

the problem is when you then have to justify it from an in character perspective, grounded in those mushy things like Feelings with characters that can be traumatized and sustain lasting damage, Especially Without acknowledging the out of character incentive.

mind you, it's not Impossible to Create a backstory that could justify it. why a character as consistently powerful and feared as technoblade would feel pressured to kill an ally by someone he not only Can kill but Wanted To Kill. why a character as seemingly secure and in control as technoblade would lash out the way that he does to perceived betrayal, and yet consistently puts no weight onto having killed and permanently scarred an ally that trusted him.

what that'd need is tragedy. a storied history of being hurt and having to survive. building up To an untouchable god from a much much more vulnerable position. Long Lasting trauma that's lead to this deep insecurity and paranoia. and that's Possible and that's Compelling.

but it's just not in the text.

not only did we never learn basically Anything that c!technoblade was up to pre-series, we actually know Less by the end than when we started because of the sbi retconning.

it's a Theoretically Possible interpretation that's technically never Contradicted by canon, but would have to be created by scratch. it's a compelling idea for a fan fic (and one I'd like to read) and it's compelling for a theoretical recontextualization of the character, but it's just not In The Text.

meanwhile, we have the video above.

we have the Objective Fact that technoblade's decision making was often subject to the rule of cool (very Very effectively) to entertain his audience.

and most compellingly, these concepts Don't Need To Be Separate. in fact, in my opinion they're Stronger when you put them together.

because the thing is. it's Difficult to imagine techno as ever being in a vulnerable position. he is just Objectively more powerful than everyone else on the server, both in real life And within the lore. How could he have ever been afraid when he was stronger than anyone and everyone combined? when we saw with our own eyes that techno could face nearly the whole server at once and win.

but he Is a tragic character, at least he's meant to be. and that tragedy makes much Much more sense as something Inward.

technoblade as a character who Needs connection, who Needs stability, who Needs security, who Needs friendship and community and Love. but Lashes Out, Obliterates to the core of the earth, because of something that's not only out of his control but that other people Cannot Understand.

how do you explain to a child that you killed their best friend because a chorus of the undead called for his blood and you (in all the glory that he'd idolized) were unable to do anything but comply? how do you explain to that child that you beat him senseless in a pit as the restless dead jeered and laughed?

That's interesting. That's Compelling.

technoblade is idolized like a god, feared like a force of nature, and in an instant cut himself off from nearly everyone who'd considered him an ally. and that seems to be a pattern, over and over and over again. he's left isolated, and in return he faces retaliation, and in return he's always Waiting for retaliation.

and what do you say to someone who wants to kill you for being a monster? that it's Fine Actually because you only did what you did because you have a curse that compels you to? that the supernatural guided you to destroy their homes and kill their people? (rip jack manifold you will be missed)?

That Doesn't Quite Help Your Case.

technoblade as someone who is beholden to this literal cycle of violence and Loses those things that could ground him, community, stability, People, as a result. who Tries to overcome this very fact (to become a better person, in his own words as per the clip above), but is pulled back into it as a consequence of his own actions.

that's a tragedy !! that Makes Sense. that allows him to be Both this force of nature that other characters have to survive And A Person Who Is Hurt By The Same Conflict.

"I'm a person!" that fear of dehumanization makes So So Much More Sense when you see technoblade as someone who Already fears himself. who fears being a monster, who fears losing control, who has faced isolation again and again and again.

and, importantly, it doesn't have to be anyone else's Fault.

by making the source both Internal and Completely External (something that none of the other characters have any awareness or control over), you can Have techno as a tragic character without demonizing anyone else Or erasing the impact that c!techno had on them.

and in that sense, it Can be an allegory for mental illness, but not in that direct "oooooh how scary he hears voices" kind of way that people fear it looks. but in that sometimes people Will do things that can hurt others while not feeling in control. anger and mania and paranoia, things that you can't always Control and yet that impact that you have on other people still Matters.

and the answer to that is, often, vulnerability and accountability.

I think a lot about technoblade isolating himself so near entirely from the rest of the server, and slowly gathering a support system Back by the end. and I Really Do think that framing of it through this lens is a Very impactful way of breaking it down.

tubbo, tommy, wilbur, ranboo, niki, I think they'd All understand not feeling in control. lashing out, maybe even feeling justified in the moment, but hurting people they care about and furthering their own isolation.

There's Something There, and it's already In The Text. it just needs to be expanded on.

and why not do that ourselves now?

[punkitt-is-here]

Yknow i love fo4 and fo76 as games but hate them as Fallout games yknow?

Like theyre nice to play and i love some of the characters but man. They just. Are not Fallout. Its literally like if you took Fallout but made it for a general audience, theres no spice!! Theres no grime!! Why is everything so clean!!!

That's the thing; these games are built with inherently different base goals in mind. Bethesda in the modern day thrives off selling the idea of player empowerment, of being an explorer in a foreign land that you conquer through hard work. You shape the world to your liking by questing and exploring and conquering. And genuinely? I got no problem with that. I think games that gas the player up like crazy and set you loose on a world to make it your own are totally fine conceptually! Like, the fantasy of being able to shape the world the way you see fit is something I think a lot of people can get into, whether you're just looking for control in your life or you just want the experience of feeling like you can have some grand effect on the world at large.

But because of that, I think the core of what makes Fallout so interesting has to be put on the backburner. I don't play Fallout to feel powerful necessarily, and I certainly don't play it for the fuckin' gunplay. I play it because it has such a fun dedication to weird stories that feel like they have something to say, a staff of writers dedicating their time and effort to being a proto-DM at a table, trying to provide interesting and thought-provoking or at least real damn fun stories in front of you, because ultimately, the West Coast Fallout games are about people. They're about characters! And when you focus less on the idea of telling stories in a world and more on empowering the player as a fourth-wall observer, those priorities clash and in the East Coast Fallout's cases, it makes for a game with no spice or edge. Having something to say about, say, the US Military or American Expansionism and Exceptionalism or the nature of clinging to the past kind of fundamentally clashes with the player empowerment fantasy that Bethesda Fallout games want to sell you. You can't have these philosophy-based, morally-interesting factional conflicts that want the player to look inward when the very concept of your game is built around collecting loot and shooting guys instead of learning about that loot and learning about those guys you're shooting and why you're shooting at each other. Having radiant quest loot loop gameplay just doesn't mesh well with a world where choices are meant to have far-reaching impact, because if it did, it'd be impossible to program under a normal development timeframe, and it would likely make the player look inward and go "what the fuck am I doing with my time?" at the endless meaningless quests to go on.

I don't think the "Lone Wanderer Comes Across A Microcosm Of Adventure" format is bad, not at all, but you have to put a lot of work to make that feel cohesive with the larger character and faction-based narratives that 1, 2, and NV are built on, so instead those Bethesda-style games opt more for a toybox, playground approach to the post apocalypse. And when your primary goal is showing the player how cool of a sandcastle they can build, it'll never be structurally sound enough to sustain even a wave of nuance.

[harkonnen-darkness]

• 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭(𝐞𝐫) 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 Part Two

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen imagine (?)

Just something short, but it seems like you liked my first one, so here is Part Two. Also a bit dark Feyd here, I think -> blood etc.

-> Part One 🖤 >> Part Two ⬇️ >> Part Three?

Once again, Feyd loves your gentle touches. He didn't understand them at first, they almost shocked him. He'd asked you what you were doing, twitching and irritatedly avoiding your gentle fingers. It had hurt you deeply, which he had quickly realized. He also realized that he didn't want to feel these feelings. So he drew closer to you day by day and allowed your gentle touches. Not long later, he loves them and enjoys every second of it. He would never admit it, but of course you notice it. And you also love it when he lets himself fall inside you. And it doesn't necessarily have to be sexual. When your hands caress his muscles, when you speak softly and whisper beautiful words to him. Be it about himself, about the death and dying of your both enemies or anything else that would make him happy.

Togetherness with you is very important to him. And he almost doesn't care how. Be it training, simply talking (if there is enough time during the daylight), lying in bed together at night and snuggling up close to each other, even in silence. Words don't always have to be spoken. Your closeness to each other is enough to say. Feyd would never consider silence to be bad as long as you are close together.

He often takes a closer look at your body, especially in the evening / at night. Not just to see what injuries you have sustained during training. Just so he knows that you're here with him. When he had nightmares about your death or your disappearance into the pure darkness several times, he almost didn't let you out of his sight for a few days. Just to make sure that you were still with him. toxically meant *cough* He has these nightmares regularly and is sometimes better and sometimes worse at controlling himself and his actions.

As soon as he have even a shred of time, he'll look for you. He knows all the places you like to go. And if he can't find you, he'll get angry. As soon as Feyd finds you in your or his chambers in the evening, he'll ask you where you've been. On the one hand, he is afraid that you will leave him. Another fear in him is that you will be touched by another man again. There are far too many possibilities in his head of what could have happened, when he can't find you.

The Na-Baron keeps emphasizing that he forbids you to die. At first you thought it was a joke, but each time you realize that he is dead serious. "I only allow you to bleed to death from my bites. Nothing else!" You read a lot into those words. He didn't want you to die in a fight, otherwise you would probably be weak in his eyes. On the other hand, you wonder why he would inflict all that pain to you with his teeth, when they're supposed to be, even in his words, 'love bites'.

Sometimes he unsettles you so much that it drives you crazy. However, you don't show this because you know that it would only lead to problems. But he notices your behavior and asks what's wrong. And he knows 99% of the time when you're lying. But, he doesn't always know what the truth is. But he knows exactly how to relax you and your body. actually, his words THEN only stress you out more lol

He inflicts pain on you in his own way - because he can't and won't do anything else. He bites you bloody when he's in the mood for it and he often holds you so tightly in his arms that it hurts. Sometimes it feels to you as if he could break your ribs in the next few seconds. The Harkonnen is also expressing his feelings for you, because his feelings for you are hurting him. I have explained this a little here. It makes him feel weaker, and he doesn't like that.

At the same time, you strengthen his self-confidence, but also lower it, because he had always sworn that he would never feel anything like love or similar to anyone. It had always been a weakness for him. He had loved his whores, but in a completely different way to the way he adores you.

When Feyd gets the idea, he sprays his perfume on your skin. So that everyone knows you've been with him and his scent 'sticks' to you. He also likes to smell his shower gel on you. It's like another confirmation for him that you are his when you smell like him.

When he has the time and inclination, he simply sits quietly next to you or on the bed and watches you do your hair (whether long or short). He finds the jewelry in your hair fascinating and very pretty. He's rarely seen anything like it before you. And precisely because it's you, he likes to watch you do it. Even when you do your make-up, but he's not a big fan of that. Mascara and, what he likes on you, and pink blush is enough for him. In the evening, at events, he likes to see lipstick on you.

He also finds your clothes fascinating. A lot of it is unusual, eye-catching. Sometimes more, sometimes less elegant. But you know when to wear what. But he doesn't need to see you in sexy underwear. He prefers to undress you completely anyway when he wants to be intimitate with you. But your jewelry, such as necklaces, body chains and rings, can stay on your body.

He knows one, two pretty nightdresses of yours. Nevertheless, he wants to keep you naked or in your panties in bed, pressed close to him. If it's cold, one of his sweat pants on you is fine for him. But he always wants to have your upper body free.

Apart from inflicting bites and hickeys all over you, Feyd especially likes to do it on your back. The large surface is like a canvas for him, which he can decorate as he pleases. Over and over again. He knows that many of your clothes are backless and so his marks are perfectly visible to everyone. This is not the case with your breasts and between your thighs, so your body part lends itself very well to this.

Feyd doesn't really care about the size of women's breasts. The same goes for the bottom. It should match the rest of your figure, that's all he cares about. He also knows a lot about the female body in general. He's already happily interested in it, just to understand it. He also knows what happens during pregnancy (vomiting, sometimes tiredness, body changes etc.) and it doesn't bother him in the slightest. As soon as you're pregnant, he even wants you to lay down your weapons and rest at a certain point. You and his offspring are too important to him for you both to be hurt anywhere.

Since he has feelings for you, he almost doesn't care what gender his child will be. It was only because of you, that he saw that women can also be very good warriors. And he thinks that with your warrior genes, and his anyway, a female offspring can't be bad. A male heir is desired, but with time he can be more or less satisfied with the idea of fathering a female.

Nevertheless, he doesn't want to impregnate you until the Baron, his uncle, has disappeared from the scene. Because you only find out much later that it is traditional to murder the mother shortly after giving birth. A (Na-)Baroness is only useful for offspring, nothing else. With you, Feyd's opinion has changed completely. And once he's Baron, can make some new rules - that would be the first thing he'd change. He wants to have you by his side and give you power over Giedi Prime and the galaxy, not drag you behind him as a stupid slave or doll.

Feyd loves to have pure power over your body. This works best sexually. Knowing what he can make you feel, makes his ego soar to unimaginable heights. When he has control over your body, emotions, mind and soul and he very quickly figured out which strings to pull to make you feel good which sometimes almost kills you. He loves to bite your breasts, the inside of your thighs and your butt. All the parts of your body that can perfectly enclose his teeth.

When he realizes you're not feeling well, he sometimes bites you playfully. Often in the cheek, not particularly hard. Just to cheer you up somehow and hear you giggle. It's more serious for him when he bites you while you're asleep. At best in your back, where you can't run your hands over it. Not so hard that you bleed, but it's woken you up a few times. He lies, says he hasn't done anything. Or teases you and asks if you're even dreaming about him.

I have the feeling that he might find thicker thighs quite attractive. No matter whether it's feminine curves or muscles. He's got something to grab and bite! 😮‍💨

Feyd loves slow sex with you. He wants to touch you completely differently than he treated his pets before you. Ever since you became his fiancée, he won't touch them, even though they often try to persuade him. He doesn't consent.

He sometimes sees you, without ever wanting to tell you, as nightmare and sin. That he gives himself to you, has feelings for you. And will probably never really understand it. That he feels something for you that he never wanted to feel, because love has always been a weakness for him. He doesn't love like others, he loves you in his own way. Yet he knows he can't kill you, even if he sometimes wants to. He thinks that this feeling, this longing and passion for you, could then disappear - because then you would be gone. And these thoughts torment him. He finds both terrible.

Your nickname "Devil" therefore has a much deeper meaning for him than you would ever guess.

If you have seen each other very little or not at all, mostly because of his uncle, you can assume that he will spend many hours with you in a waking state as soon as this is possible again. As already mentioned, he finds it pleasant to listen to you when you have something to say. It's a wonderful pastime for him when he's done training alone or teaching-Na-Baron-things. You read a lot of books about Giedi Prime and other things, but you like much rather have Feyd explain it to you.

He also likes to take a pretty bath with you, aside from the thermals. He's not a fan of hot water, but he tries as much as he can to be close to you. He probably wouldn't admit it either, but he likes the scent of your bath salts. And he doesn't mind smelling like you sometimes.

When he has slept in your chambers and watches you sleep briefly before he leaves, he often takes something of yours with him. Jewelry works well, as he has discovered. He hides it in his sleeve or pocket, plays with it in between (throws a ring up and down, for example). He likes to have something of yours to accompany him throughout the day. If you notice that something is missing, he lies and says with a grin that you should take better care of your things. Then the stuff suddenly reappear.

He couldn't describe how much he loves it, when you lean your head against his chest. No matter whether you are standing, sitting on his lap or snuggled up close to each other. When you place little kisses on his chest muscles, he likes to kiss your skull and nuzzle your neck and hair. Until his comforting purr turns into a deep growl and you know he's in the mood for you.

* It is absolutely no problem for him to satisfy you orally during your menstruation. He did it the first time so that you would realize that he is not disgusted by you in any ways. It's also supposed to be a sign of his feelings for you. He loves to taste your blood, which is sweet to him all the time. And he doesn't care from which part of your body you're bleeding. The main thing is that he gets as much of it on his tongue as possible without having to kill you. On the other hand, he hopes it will distract you from the pain. (Again, he knows a lot about the womens body.)

* Feyd sometimes imagines what it would look like, when you would to bleed to death in his arms. The red liquid would look so beautiful on you, decorating your body like jewelry. He would smile - probably not even realizing that you are dying - your beauty dazzles him, his perception and senses. There are moments when he looks at his knives and swords and thinks about which one he could use to cut your skin and flesh. But he manages to shake the thought aside, because he knows that it would only cause you pain. And he doesn't want that. He sometimes finds release in his dreams and is happy when he wakes up to be able to hold you close to him and hear and feel your heartbeat.

✨Did I forget something? 🤔

Taglist:

[thebibliosphere]

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

[justhereforthemeta]

Crowley and the Fall: Looking where the furniture isn't

Furfur, 1941: "We were in the same legion. Just before the fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember?"

Crowley: "I remember going into battle. I don't remember being there with you."

Um... does Crowley's professed memory track with what we know about his fall? Setting aside for a moment that he doesn't remember Furfur - I mean, who just casually *saunters* into battle, really? In theory, it sounds like Crowley must have, but that's not what his "I remember going into battle" sounds like. It's been said before, but something about the circumstances of Crowley's fall (what little we know of it, at least) doesn't smell right. What we know is:

First, Crowley asked questions.

These questions antagonized the Metatron.

At some point, having gotten no satisfactory answers, Crowley began "sauntering vaguely downward," hanging out with the wrong crowd out of...boredom? Boredom with making nebulae? Nahhh. "Food hadn't been that good lately" (ahem, angels don't eat) sounds a lot like a euphemism for not enjoying the things you used to enjoy anymore. Ennui, maybe depression. Comes of your work feeling pointless, when you think you've been contributing to something big and meaningful that turns out to just be fancy wallpaper, something that was always meant to get torn down eventually anyway (ugh, Crowley, you and I should go get a whiskey after work sometime).

Eventually, that "wrong crowd" becomes a legion marching into battle on the plains of heaven.

Lucifer's side loses, and Crowley finds himself "suddenly doing a million lightyear freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur." Funny that whilst talking to no one but himself in the bar in season 1, Crowley characterizes his Fall as "sudden" with no mention of a precipitating rebellion or battle at all. Either way, it seems like there'd be a lot of distance for him to cover to get from "I'm feeling profoundly disappointed; what once sustained me has lost its flavor" to "I'm going to violently overthrow the system and put these other guys in charge." Especially for the one demon we know of who still appeals directly to God.

Anyway, that half-baked word casserole is my basis for theorizing that Crowley did ask questions, but he never violently rebelled. "Going into battle" is the sort of thing one does with some conviction, not in an attitude of casual, sauntering disaffection. And even if he was hanging out with the wrong crowd, Crowley has never been a mindless follower: he'd be just as likely to question and critique Lucifer/Satan as the Almighty Herself. If Crowley did fight in the war (big if, if you ask me), I suspect it was on the side of Heaven. Then at some point his memory was tampered with to make him forget which side he'd been on. The fog of war and all that...

One last thought on this topic: Saraquael. She claims to have worked with Crowley on the horsehead nebula; moments later, we see on heavenly instant replay that she was the angel tapping at their phone to look for Gabriel's memory so that it could be wiped. Was her question actually meant to test Crowley, to see how much he'd managed to remember?

Saraquael, only angel to recognize Metatron when he strolls into the bookshop - are you the one who performed the wipe of Crowley's memory on Metatron's behalf?

I haven't learned yet how to get good screenshots, but if you can, hit pause on Crowley's face just before the electrical sounds go off in heaven after Aziraphale has blown up his halo. He's turned around from the screens to look directly at Saraquael in this shot. His eyebrows are raised and we can see his narrowed eyes clearly through his sunglasses. He KNOWS.

[blacktabbygames]

Hi, I admit I dont really know what the process for this looks like, but would you ever consider adding Slay the Princess to the Playstation Plus subscription service, or to Xbox GamePass? Even temporary, with a time limit?

This might be something we do towards the very end of Slay the Princess' life cycle, but subscription services are a pretty hard sell for us in general. I don't think they're sustainable for the games industry as a whole, and they're a contributor to some of the race-to-the-bottom mentality. (Absolutely zero judgment for folks who use these services, btw. *I* use these services, but then I also know that I never actually buy a game after getting it on Game Pass or PS+; this is really just about the corporate side of things)

A big news item in the industry over the past month was the closure of Tango Gameworks, the Microsoft-owned studio that made Hi-Fi Rush last year, a wonderful game that got a bunch of awards and scored an 87 on Metacritic.

There's been a lot of speculation around this closure, and to add to that speculation, I believe that at the end of the day, Hi Fi Rush lost a lot of money, at least on paper.

It was shadow-dropped as a day 1 gamepass exclusive, which meant that there was no marketing done in advance, and sales were immediately cannibalized. (Side note— Hi-Fi Rush is maybe the only game I've picked up on Game Pass that I turned around and bought a Steam copy of, mostly because I wanted to play it on my Steam Deck.)

Since Tango was owned by MS, this was almost certainly a deliberate choice to make Game Pass seem more appealing, and even then, the studio behind a *hit* game was closed for financial reasons. So we're not sure that's a part of the industry we want to dance with.

I know this probably seems at odds with our stance on piracy, but at the end of the day, I think they're different beasts, and it's the scale, perceived legitimacy, and corporatization of subscription services that gives me a lot of pause, especially with Game Pass, which tends to double-release for PC and console. And on the flipside, I legitimately don't think piracy hurts developers.

So again, I think if we were to do something like this, it would be towards the end of the game's life, or it would be something tied more to an isolated ecosystem (i.e. if we do mobile, something like Apple Arcade, since people don't really *buy* mobile games, and the overlap with console + PC is very small.)

[leveloneandup]

For Christen Press, the Joy is in the Journey

Progress isn’t perfect.

That’s been Christen Press’s motto over the 781 days since she last played in a soccer match—and not just when it comes to her recovery from the ACL tear she sustained in June, 2022, but also when thinking about life as a whole.

“You have to accept that things won’t go the way you think they will, but maybe they’ll go better,” she explains. “Progress isn’t linear. It’s up and down and back and forth. But in that movement there’s more than what you ever imagined. So the imperfection—the struggle, the setbacks—those are actually the greatest gifts as you get to learn about yourself and you have the chance to grow.”

Press has had more than her share of setbacks over the last two years, as an initial surgery turned into two, then three, and finally four.

“I think every single time that I was told I’d have to have surgery, from the first ACL reconstruction and the three scopes that I had, I always thought I would be on the quickest timeline possible,” said Press when she returned to Angel City training in June. “I think that's part of who I am. I'm just relentlessly optimistic. I'm naively positive, and just thinking that everything's going to work out for me—and I never want that to change, you know? And I got off course of all of those timelines so many times that I finally had to actually relinquish that expectation of myself.”

In her two years off the field, Press says she’s grown and healed in more ways than just physically, but the goal was always to return, even if that possibility felt far off at times.

“I never thought about giving up,” says Press, “but there were moments that I thought I’d have to accept that I wouldn’t make it—or that ‘making it’ might not look how I expected.”

One of the hardest things about this process has been accepting that the outcome was not fully under her control. “I’m able to do a lot of suffering for success, and I’ve been that way since I was a child,” she says. “The question I had to answer was how to accept and be open to things I cannot control.”

Press had access to the best medical and rehabilitation care in the business—first at the Meyer Institute of Sports, an El Segundo rehab and performance facility specializing in elite athletes, and then with Angel City’s training staff, including VP of Medical and Performance Sarah Smith, Head Athletic Trainer Manny De Alba, Head of Sports Science Dan Jones, Director of Rehabilitation Sarah Neal, Performance Coach Michael Roman, Assistant Athletic Trainer April Seymon, and Senior Physical Therapist Joscelyn Shumate Bourne.

Ultimately, bodies don’t always heal the way we hope they will. All she could do was show up every day and try her best.

“I had to make decisions that centered my well being and full personhood,” she says. “To start to find my inherent value outside of excellence in the pitch.”

In part, that meant finding joy in other areas of life. She worked on her business, re–Inc, including starting a podcast with (business and life) partner Tobin Heath, initially focusing on the 2023 World Cup, then branching out to cover women’s soccer more generally. She went to the beach. She spent time with family.

In some ways, this time away from the game Press loves has been freeing. “The last two years have been the first of my career that I wasn’t evaluated on my performance,” she says. “I showed up for PT every day with a smile on my face and gave max effort. That’s all I had to do.”

Press’s return comes at a perfect time for the club: they’ve begun to build momentum with two convincing Summer Cup wins, against Club América and Bay FC, as they look ahead to the back half of the regular season. Playoffs are still well within reach heading into this stretch, a fact that Press’s return can only make more tangible.

“Her quality is inevitable,” says First Assistant Coach Eleri Earnshaw. “Last week in training, she scored a couple of goals that we haven't seen anyone else do yet this season in training.”

Returning to play after such a long hiatus isn’t easy for anyone, but Earnshaw says there’s a point the coaching staff have emphasized both to Press and to other injured players eyeing a return to the field: “your ability doesn't change overnight,” she says. “There are some things that just stay with you. Her chance creation, her separation from defenders—you’ve got to be in the right physical and mental place to be able to perform those things, to be confident to do it, but she is building those things up every day.”

“If we can get that quality onto the pitch for any number of minutes, great,” she concludes.

As Press anticipates her return to what she calls “the real world of professional sports”—one “filled with stress and pressure and often angst,” as she puts it—she’s going in with a fresh perspective.

“I’m determined to enjoy it,” she says. “I know who I am as a player and person, and I see this opportunity as a chance to do what I love. I told my teammates today: football is a miracle. It’s a miracle we get to do the thing we love.”

[thatbitchery]

Sooo the ninth month of the year just rolled out, we are officially only three months to the end of the year. Look at your new year new me. No no, look at your goals don't be shy. Now, look at yourself. Mhm . Loser

Well, ladies and gentlemen of the ton, we can at the very least salvage at least this month. And I , being the Phi here, will take responsibility of y'all and instead of telling you what to go on your to do list,tell you how to make your to do list.

How To Set Achievable Goals 101, an incomprehensive guide by Unnie part one; goal setting mistakes

Numero Uno Goalsetting Mistake i see every single time; the assumption you are a man. If you are in fact a man this does not apply to you, go on. But ladies and girlies of the press you DO realize your body has changes monthly don't you? I mean you've been in it for years now SURELY you've noticed the energy fluctuations monthly and spikes no??? Listen working out everyday isn't viable. Your body can't handle the same workouts during ovulation as during your follicular phase. If you have all the time in the world you CAN plan by phase but if you can't, bffr here. We need to love our bodies hunnie and the first step of love is understanding. If you have doing 46 burpees daily youre expecting your body to function the same every day that just doesn't work. Take into account; you're a WOMAN. your body works in miraculous every flowing ever changing ways you can't run ten miles daily you'll launch yourself into PCOS.

Number Two mistake I see allll the time; lack of touching grass. Ma'am , unless you're equatorial or at least tropical - you do realize we are going into Fall/ Winter, no. Where will you run three miles in winter?? Whereeee will your body get the energy (I assume we all know in cold seasons we get lazier to preserve heat and energy, no? It's why you feel depressed) to do ALLL THAT in cold weather. Please we all know fall lasts like two weeks max , look at your 57868 things to do daily. Literally where will you get the energy. Bold of you to assume you can beat literal nature ma'am we love ambition in this house but go outside. Touch grass. What weather are you doing outdoor activities in? Bffr . You'll really really wake up at 4:30 in winter. Gee good for you we love that for you.

Number Three Goalsetting horror I must fave every time I see monthly goals; have you considered you are a- human being . Listen we really love ambition over here we really really do it's just. What body are you going to subject to 478879 things to do daily. Listen I know you're ambitious and can do everything I know but uhm if your daily to do list has more than 10 things are you okay??? Do you realize you're NOT a machine?? And that time in itself has constraints?? That you need rest ? That, you know, you're flesh and bones haha.

Number four in my; how do you not know this list; goals are set to enhance systems which is to say they're meant to be sustainable. What's the formula for sustainability?? Well, in case you didn't know - it's simplicity, high quality and durability. Your goals should be simple, have quality and durable. Look at your goals. Realistically speaking, how long can you do that? How simple is that? How durable is it? Because having 10k steps daily is a lot more durable and simple and practical than trying Todo 588 types of regular workouts daily. I mean be honest here. If you want to keep at it, love, you need to be able to do it forever. That's how things become a system. They are simple enough to become a habit. A 5688 step skincare routine will crash out SooN but simply cleansing and moisturizing and SPF? Easy to fall into habit. 4 hours study time is hard to incorporate but 4 maths problems daily? Easy peasy. 5769 cleaning routine? Hard. Don't go to bed with unwashed dishes or messy living room? Never stay in a messy environment? Easy. Going to church daily, hard. Playing christian podcasts as you clean daily? Achievable. Simple. Durable. Quality. The quality of the goal must stay, only the method can be simplified.

The way to set achievable goals is to have actual milestones we want to hit. I'm not making a guide on this love you know your milestones lol. Just in case you're new, we use the Jun Yuh method it has to be the simplest I've seen.

BMAC

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Happy birthday pookie omggg!! Here's my request:

reaper reader/a reader that's the embodiment of death itself? I think it'll be cool to see a reaper reader in ror and they could be managing the dead/underworld with hades.

Since hades was pretty feared in ancient Greece and was never called by his name but instead other names, I think that reaper reader would be feared since they're a being meant to represent death, which is a powerful and unpredictable force that will happen to every alive being.

-There were many gods and goddesses of the dead, Hades being on the frontrunners that everyone knew, Anubis and Hel were others that were a bit more well-known as well.

-However, why they resided over the various lands of the dead in Valhalla, overseeing those who came to their sections, there was another, one that even the gods were terrified of.

-Y/N was the personification of death itself, the one who snuffed out the lights of those who had reached the end of their lives, and none were safe from you, gods and humans alike knew of you, and knew of what you could do.

-Many just called you Death- that’s what most humans knew you as on earth, the Grim Reaper was another nickname you had gained over the years. You wouldn’t call yourself grim, but you were a reaper, harvesting souls of those who could no longer sustain life, and you did cause a lot of sadness wherever you went. You just did your job.

-The gods weren’t safe from your wrath either, although reaping one of their souls is far and few between, compared to humans at least, but they know that you can easily snuff out their lives if you choose to do so.

-You were pretty laid back however, as your job always kept you busy, with so many dying on earth each day, so on those rare down moments, you loved nothing more than to just lounge around and play on your Nintendo Switch- you needed to pay off your home loan to Tom Nook!

-So, when Ragnarok was announced, you had to attend, as you were the one who would reap the souls of those who fell in battle, turning them into nothingness.

-Many were surprised to finally see you- you looked so… so normal! You looked like any of them- like a normal person, and to learn that you were Death- it was unnerving.

-You weren’t cruel when you reaped the souls of others, you entered the arena, approaching Lu Bu and Randgriz, holding out your hand to the both of them, which they took, and they went without pain. Adam was similar, when you approached, he hugged you close, which you returned as he faded away.

-Poseidon was your first tough one, as he screamed at you to not come any close to him, chilling everyone to the bone. You cupped his cheeks, smiling softly down at him, “No matter if you are a human, a valkyrie, or even a god- none of you can escape me forever.” His eyes only widened as he faded away, showing everyone, who didn’t know, that gods were not safe from your power either.

-Many were intimidated by you, by what you could do, you were very humbling, because it’s the age old saying that everyone knew- nobody can escape death and it will come for everyone, one day. But when was the next question? They weren’t going to get an answer- as only you knew.

[mossy-green-aka-ferrythem]

The new W Corp Event definitely has caused me to think a lot more deeply about W Corp...

...and how its stagnation shows something of a bit of hope in the city. That absolute cruelty cannot be absolutely sustained.

I think the big thing is how while Lobotomy Corporation's dissolution and the plan Ayin carried out was meant to be the thing that changed everything, really Angela's choices made it so it wouldn't go through.

But here's the thing. Angela may very well be the strongest of all of them.

She withstood eternity.

She saw those who couldn't withstand it in the WARP, and was disgusted.

I think what makes the eternity in the WARP Trains so just, awful is that the residents of The City sort of live without hope.

They won't connect with one another, if they do it is in a broken and warped way. The connection is either made with violence, or through desperation, like they truly don't like the idea of connection, or have such a conservative idea of it that you end up with scenarios like "Love Town".

Even in the recent event, you see that one of the only way someone can take pleasure in this sort of eternity, is to treat it as a banquet. A kingdom. Cannibalism. I believe that W Corp can be linked to a thematic cannibalism. The metaphor here doesn't have any warmth though, it's a cannibalism of the human spirit.

We see this in the Sinners W Corp IDs.

Notice how the light has so clearly left their eyes?

Hong Lu's demeanor rings incredibly hollow, his smile having the most false appearance out of all his IDs. Don Quixote's joyful spirit has been crushed. Faust in this world feels like a very sorrowful being, sort of making one think about Faust as a more sorrowful character. That Fausts like W Faust exist, existing in such a jaded, hopeless state. Meursault does what he must do for the Wing, but I would imagine he is totally lost because of that. Ryoshu seems to delight in the halls of gore, but I don't think this is a good thing, if anything it shows her totally going off the deep end, and Outis seems like she's become completely lost in her Odyssey...

All of which have been sort of devoured by the cruelty of it all. That they cut apart and put back together pieces of their fellow humans in such a way. It feels different than the death that follows the war-like environment of the general city, because most of these people were normal. Most of these people could have been parents, with children. They could have been truly upstanding individuals, they could have been many things...

However, since the people of the City lack hope, lack warmth, lack pleasure, they cannot withstand eternity. They cannot withstand impossibly slowed time. They cannot do any of it, and will only be consumed.

However... this cruelty... all the time of all the people sent off on the WARP Trains...

It seems like a fairly recent invention all things considered...

Even if the time by now is enough to wrap around the entire history of life on Earth by now, spent in the WARP...

There is something about the idea that. It can end. People don't take pleasure in this. It brings out the worst of The City in such a drastic way, that surely it cannot be sustained...

That and the collapse of Lobotomy Corporation has just been a net positive for. Everyone.

Just look at how the Sephiriah are in Ruina! Look at how Angela found herself! Look at how they still stand, looking at the city, representing a new beginning, a new hope!

The eternity in those trains may be awful, but there is a way through it all... it will end one day... just like how the eternity in those trains end...

Just like how they have found entire WARP Trains full of people holding hands... there is a way through it all, there is still humanity in the wake of all this madness...

Hell just. Look at how Don Quixote knew how the Bloodfiend would have these people fade away, never to return. She would rather face eternity than to accept a scenario where these people never come back, and that is quite powerful.

Really it is all so interesting. Horrific beyond belief, but so interesting...