#like this is where i set my goal initially.......

[talkorsomething]

...well, i now officially know i've lost weight.

Like... a lot? a lot more than i had thought?

Which is. Odd because honestly pretty much everything still feels like it fits about the same...

I guess it explains why i've been more cold?!

+ also i dont know Why it's so much... if i start eating like a normal human being again i don't... really *want* to go over where i started? :/ i guess i'd maybe be fine w/ being about the same because i know it won't be That big of a difference. Or i don't think it will anyways? Hm...

[belligerentbagel]

Final two ArtFights!

Red (otherfireangel)

Suzuni Yukai (pikapillow)

[dbphantom]

WHOAG I slept for 14 hours and had a very long dream about Bl/3 H2O au

[earlysunshines]

routines and repeats

pham hanni x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you and hanni have a routine, something like that, maybe a little far off... maybe it's not really a routine -- it doesn't really matter because hanni's apart of it.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: none?? ; not proofread

a/n: wrote this in one sitting again muahhaha enjoy thank u for the support and attention and love and jaajksdlfdsal everything for my newjeans fics :-} love u all

you and hanni have settled into a comfortable rhythm. it's not exactly a routine in the traditional sense—nowhere near as meticulously organized as minji's planner of goals and daily tasks, nor as structured as haerin's repetitive art gig schedule. but whatever it is between you and hanni, it's uniquely yours.

but you and hanni have found your own thing, a sort of groove that makes you both content. it's the kind of routine where things just naturally fall into place, where you spend time together without needing a plan, and that's what really matters. 

there's no set list of things to do, nothing is really planned (unless there's a very special occasion), but there are noticeable patterns and repeats of things that happen here and there. 

what matters is that you two are happy with how disorganized and scattered things are because that’s what fits the two of you perfectly. with everything so in order and mapped out, where’s the flexibility? where’s the fun? besides, you and hanni like what you have, and this spontaneous routine brings a smile to your faces at the end of the day.

–

you’ve been together long enough to know that hanni is either taking up most of the space of the bed, or clinging onto you like a koala and breathing into your neck with her mouth half open. despite how stupid she looks while sleeping, it only makes you love her more.

she’s usually the last to wake up and always woken up by you. on weekdays, you poke her cheek after hearing her alarm or shake her up a bit, but she never budges. 

“hanni you have a class in less than two hours…” you mumble, not wanting to be up either. 

“that means one more hour to sleep… please babe.”

“absolutely not. you won’t have time to eat or get ready and then you’ll whine and complain and–”

your girlfriend cuts you off with another groan, slowly removing herself from the crook of your neck with her eyes still closed. you squint at her and smile sleepily, rubbing your eyes before you fix her messy bedhead.

hanni opens her eyes just barely to see you grinning at her, earning a pout from your girlfriend.

“i don’t want to get up.”

“me neither, but you have to.”

“do i?” she frowns as you get up from where you are, watching you lean against the bedframe as you yawn.

“do you want your degree? think about the job you’ll have and the pets we’ll have and our life and–”

“shut up shut up okay! fine.” hanni responds, making you laugh.

every morning, you kiss her on the cheek, forehead, or hand because you two made a pact not to initiate anything lip to lip due to morning breath. at least that’s set in stone; maybe you can be organized if there’s something guaranteed to happen every morning. this small ritual brings a sense of comfort and consistency, grounding your otherwise scattered routine.

additionally, you two take turns showering every morning – usually you’re first. hanni always takes a while longer since she’s fond of warmer water on her skin in comparison to your cold showers as the sun rises. and then you two brush your teeth together, hanni’s usually sitting on the counter glancing at your tired features while you stare into the mirror and hum a small song. 

hanni likes to stay silent and simply enjoy your presence, she’s a firm believer that if you start your day off with something great, then the day can only get better from there.

(she thinks you’re more than great, so everyday is a wonderful day.)

-

hanni usually gets back from her classes about ninety minutes before you head to work, so you use that time to spend together. the afternoon to evening hours are when you miss each other the most, so these precious minutes become your little oasis, a pocket of time where everything else fades away and it's just the two of you, making the most of your time together before life pulls you in different directions.

you're usually either making lunch or catching up on your own tasks by the time she arrives home, something you've grown accustomed to. her arrival marks a familiar cadence in your day, a moment when the energy of the house shifts subtly to accommodate her presence.

you feel arms wrapping around your waist and a head on your shoulder (she has to go on the tips of her toes to do this), you don’t even turn around, knowing it’s hanni.

“hey lover.”

“hello beautiful.” hanni says before kissing your cheek, missing a little and ending up with hair meeting her lips istead of your skin. “missed you.”

“missed you more. how were your classes?”

hanni always says the same thing, or something similar at least. “it was whatever, boring as always.”

“aw, at least you’re back. i’m making rice bowls, go unwind okay?”

“mhm, love you.” she kisses your cheek – not missing this time – and starts for your shared room in the single bedroom apartment. 

it doesn’t take long for her to return, now wearing a different t-shirt (yours), before she's back to clinging onto you while you pack up your lunch box and prepare her meal. hanni eventually ends up sitting on the counter, legs dangling, as she watches you and sings along to your shared playlist. you can't resist giving her a little kiss here and there – just because – since it's impossible not to when she's around.

you hand her the bowl of rice and chicken, a simple meal but seasoned to perfection in hanni’s opinion.

she has her legs wrapped around your waist as she pulls you in, taking a bite of the food you’ve made her and melting. she nods her head, clearly enjoying the meal.

“yeah, this is ass.” 

you scoff as you watch her devour another bite. “right, you’re eating it like the bowl is about to run away from you.”

hanni shrugs. “mid, wouldn’t recommend actually.”

“aw, i guess i shouldn’t cook anymore – ever — since it’s so bad.”

“yeah.” hanni giggles after she finishes her bite, smiling at you like an idiot. “it’s whatever, you’re already very delicious to the eyes.”

“oh my god, you piss me off.” you lie, starting to smile and laugh at her. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

“crazy take but okay.”

hanni rolls her eyes before you get up to finish boxing your lunch, putting it in your work bag and zipping it up. she frowns watching you, not really fond of the fact that you’re leaving her for a few hours.

the two of you always spend the afternoons on the four days that you work together on the couch for a bit, cuddled together as hanni finishes up some work or rereads notes on her laptop. you like this pattern; you adore being near your girlfriend. the warmth of her presence and the simple pleasure of being close make those moments precious to you.

(you don’t care if this isn’t something that would be written on a planner, besides, ‘cuddles at 12:20 sound stupid written out.)

you just like the flow and simplicity of your days. it doesn’t matter, really. as long as hanni is involved and beside you.)

—

your shared evenings and nights vary depending on the day. it’s always unorganized.

sometimes you’re out shopping for essentials, and it’s usually spontaneous, with hanni fighting for her life to make a list and remember everything the two of you need in your shared fridge all within a ten-minute drive. it makes you laugh hearing her curse as she forgets whether you’ve run out of protein for your meals or if you already used the backup conditioner and need a new one. 

on weekends or holidays when time allows, you often find yourselves cozied up together. whether it's snuggled on the couch watching a movie, or out for a quiet dinner or a stroll to some hidden gem haerin discovered, these moments are cherished. hanni's arms wrap around you, her hoodie soon becoming your cozy shield against the chill of the evening, leaving you in just a tank top or a soft t-shirt. the feeling of contentment washes over you as you lean back into her warmth, sighing with a smile, savoring each precious moment together.

other nights, you’re out with your friend group, usually downtown or at one of their apartments. hanni always stays close to you, holding your hand or linking arms with you, while danielle and minji debate over which store to check out or which restaurant is better. even as the whole group— you, hanni, haerin, hyein (if she’s not busy with high school stuff), danielle, and minji— dives into deep conversations or somehow ends up arguing, you and hanni are experiencing and engaging in everything together. there’s almost never a night without her by your side.

but most of the time you’re in bed finishing up school work as hanni finishes her very lengthy nightcare routine, waiting for her to show up at the doorway with a towel loosely sitting on her head with her lips turned up as soon as she spots you.

“took you long enough.”

“hey! you take long too… you’re just always going first– this isn’t fair!”

using exaggerated hand movements, you pantomime hanni's animated way of speaking, complete with imaginary dialogue in the air. hanni flips you off and you pretend to be offended, making the two of you laugh. 

(this is one of your favorite parts of the little routine/groove you two have.)

hanni collapses onto the bed, finding solace in the comfort of your arms. you're engrossed in your laptop, catching up on tasks or maybe just browsing, while she snuggles closer. hanni is very affectionate whether she realizes it or not and it’s apparent as she peppers kisses on your exposed skin, each touch a gentle reminder of her presence and how much she treasures you. even with her phone in hand, she steals these moments to show her love, her lips brushing against your cheek or neck. 

“hey– i just need to finish this! you’re distracting me…” you mutter, which only urges her to kiss you more. “that tickles!”

“finish it quicker…” hanni groans before pressing one last kiss on your lips. you turn to look at her, pouting as you reach to pinch her cheek. she giggles before you flick her forehead. “hey!”

you like to provoke her, she’s adorable when she’s annoyed – even if it’s for a split second.

once your laptop closes and your attention turns fully to her, hanni seizes the opportunity. her kisses shift from playful to tender, each one a testament to her adoration. 

“how was your day?” she mumbles against you.

you kiss her softly before reaching over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, the table with polaroids of the two of you in a pile on it. “tiring, i was thinking of you.”

“you always are.”

“well now i’m never thinking of you again.” you joke. 

hanni scoffs playfully. you move over to lay down fully, letting out a soft sigh as hanni rests her head on your arm. “what else did you think about?”

“just you, really… i can’t remember anything else. i was thinking about the next time we could have dinner, my coworker irene recommended this place not too far away.”

“mm really?”

“yeah, they’ve got some korean-mexican fusion or something like that.”

you hear her yawn, it makes you smile. hanni feels the soft beat of your heart against her hand, then snuggles closer to you. “that sounds good.”

“you know what else sounds good?” you ask softly.

“hm?”

“you going to sleep and not complaining in the morning.”

hanni giggles quietly as she twirls your hair absentmindly with her finger. “i’ll consider it.”

“sure you will.” you murmur. you move hair away from her forehead before twisting your neck uncomfortably just to kiss her there. “goodnight, i love you.”

“i love you more.”

“uh huh.” 

and perhaps it is some sort of routine, whatever dynamic exists between you and hanni. it may not be as strategically planned as minji's structured days on that planner of hers, or as regimented as hyein's packed schedule after school, but it's uniquely yours. 

you can't quite define it, but the familiar rhythms and recurring moments, even amidst the variations each day brings, have become comforting and essential. 

whether it's hanni's morning grumbles or the shared laughs over unexpected turns, you cherish every part of it. as long as hanni remains a constant in your routine, you’re content.

[readsaboutreid]

Permanent Solution | S.R.

cw: big big warning for suicidal ideation (first person POV so you get some of the full on thought spiraling) typical criminal minds violence (reader gets kidnapped by an unsub and tortured but it doesn’t get too descriptive), extreme angst, Morgan being a dick at first (I love him but he was the only person I could really see for the role he fills in the plot with his tell it like it is vibes) but he gets his redemption in pt 2 i promise

no request for this one i had a real bad day and needed to use my thought spiral in some sort of creative outlet to get myself out of it so i took it out on spencer and reader sorry in advance y'all

"None of us like you."

The words rattled around in my brain as I walked absent-mindedly, my destination already in the back of my mind. I hadn't made this walk in five months. The five months before that had been focused on reducing the number of times I took this path.

First, the goal had been to reduce the number of times I felt compelled to take this particular walk. Walks overall weren't out of the question, and were actually encouraged. Especially walks where I shared the company with someone else. But this specific one was different. It carried a different weight. The initial goal set with my therapist had been to reduce how often I walked this path from nearly every night to no more than two or three times a week, substituting it with a different path through a different and more active part of town. After that, the goal was to move to only walking this path once a week. Then, ideally, none at all.

Ten months. Ten months of twice-weekly therapy sessions down the drain. With five measly words. I started to wonder what Spencer would say if he knew where I was headed, but shook my head free of the thought. He'd be better off in the end, anyways. The wind bit into my cheeks and I tugged the green cardigan that hung loosely off my shoulders so that it was tighter around me, the only protection from the cold that seeped down into my bones. I began to walk faster as I shivered, trying anything I could to warm up my body even just a little bit, and thought back to the encounter from earlier that had caused me to spiral so suddenly and severely.

"—none of us like you," Morgan said to me, cutting me off right as I was attempting to defend my previous decision to turn down the previous drink night invitations in the twelve months since I'd been at the BAU, resulting in Spencer also turning them down and going home with me, instead for the last eleven out of twelve of those months. The expression on his face matched the complete and utter disdain dripping from each and every word. "Not even Hotch, who got you the job in the first place, seems to want you on the team anymore. The only person who ever wants you to be around is Reid, and none of us can figure out why." When he finished I took a look around the table to see everyone else just looking down and avoiding my gaze, including Penelope, who had become somewhat of a sister to me in the past year.

"You—," my voice caught in my throat at that point and I cleared it, trying to sound as steady as I could as I asked, "A-all of you share this sentiment?" Despite strength I had tried to muster to ask that question, my voice only came out thick and wavery, and it was all I could do to keep my lip and lower jaw from trembling. I had tried as hard as possible to overcome myself since starting at the BAU, to believe that the people around me genuinely enjoyed my presence and didn't secretly roll their eyes and sigh in relief when I left the room, but apparently I had failed to make them like me and that's exactly what they felt.

"You'll have to excuse me, please," I gasped as the information presented to me sank in. I then stood, my eyes swimming with tears, and ran from the table they had all situated themselves into at the bar, only to run head on into Spencer, who grabbed my by the shoulders with a soft laugh and gentle smile.

"Easy there, (Y/N)," he chuckled while steadying me. It was only then that he realized something was wrong and his smile was immediately replaced with a concerned frown. "Hey, what's wrong, angel?" I shook my head, shook free of his grasp, and kept making for the door, my head slowing down a bit as I finally was able to take in a breath of fresh air as I made it outside.

Spencer hastily followed after me, right at my heels. "(Y/N)! (Y/N), wait!" He called after me, pushing his way through the crowd and finally out the door as well before wrapping me tightly in his arms. "Hey, now, what's wrong, love?" He cooed as he pressed my head into his chest and wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders when he felt me tremble.

I hesitated, debating what to say to him. I could either tell him the truth and earn the further ire of our colleagues by snitching or I could do what I do best: blow every thing up so there would be nobody else to blame but myself. I opted for the latter.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I finally managed to force the words from my throat. Each one stabbed into my chest with the force of a dull butter knife. "I— th-this—," I stumbled, "th-this isn't working, Spencer." My voice was barely above a whisper by the end when I finally met his eyes, which quickly filled with tears at hearing my words.

"Wh-what?" The word came out as nothing more than a breath but within it I swear I could hear the crack in his chest that echoed the one in my own. "Why— wh-what— I don't— where is this coming from?"

"I'm sorry," I said through soft sobs before I turned and ran off, leaving him standing on the sidewalk with tears slowly beginning to fall down his cheeks.

I had broken his heart, ensuring that he, too, would hate me. That was the plan. I had to push him away and make him hate me as much as the rest of them so that it would hurt him less when they found me. I made the last turn and found myself at my destination - the 11th Street bridge.

Spencer stood on the sidewalk, staring after her long after she had disappeared around the corner up ahead. He ran through the events of the past hour, trying to figure out what he could have done.

"You can go without me, Spencer," she protested as he tried to convince her to go out for drink night with the rest of the team.

"Please come with me? It will be fun, I promise!" It was a strange reversal for him to be the one trying to coax someone else into going out. Usually it was Morgan trying to convince him to go out (Garcia had literally forced him to go out with her after a particularly rough case or two), but now he decided to pay it forward to get his girlfriend to come out with their team and have some much needed fun. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"What if they don't actually want me there?" She asked, her voice small and timid.

"That's ridiculous! Why wouldn't they want you there? You're amazing," he smiled at her, starting to pepper her face with kisses in an attempt to cheer her up. She giggled quietly, not really trying as she made to push him away. He continued his assault, kissing her cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips, over and over with light pecks. When she finally acquiesced, he was giddy with excitement and felt a swell of pride in his chest at the progress she had made since they met.

As they stepped out of his car he grabbed her hand and saw her face twist with anxiety. He gave her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze before his phone rang, the number for the mental facility his mother currently resided in showing on the screen. "I need to take this, head on inside and I'll be right there, okay angel?" She swallowed nervously and walked inside, and he took the call.

5 minutes and 29 seconds.

That's how long he had been on the phone. Whatever had happened had taken only 5 minutes and 29 seconds. And it ended his relationship.

Spencer found himself pushing the door open and walking back inside the bar. His blood rushed in his ears as he approached the table and stared at all of his coworkers.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard above the music.

"Reid," Morgan started, but Spencer cut him off. "Don't look at us like th—"

"Whatever was said in the 5 minutes and 29 seconds I was on the phone with my mother's hospital resulted in me getting dumped on the sidewalk outside when not even 30 minutes ago (Y/N) was laughing, and smiling, and happy. So what. Happened?" He seethed.

"Alright, you want to know what happened, Reid?" Morgan snapped, preparing to stand up and tell him off before being stopped by Penelope, who looked as though she was still on the verge of tears. 

“Reid, I’m sorry,” she whispered as she stood up instead, standing in front of Spencer. “I should have stopped him,” she continued, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have let him talk to her like that.” 

“What did he tell her?” Spencer turned to Garcia, interrupting Derek as he opened his mouth to interject. 

“I told her the truth,” Morgan slurred, finishing off what the rest of them knew was his fourth glass of whiskey. Spencer opted to ignore his clearly drunk colleague and continued to address Garcia. 

“Garcia, what did he say to my girlfriend?” Spencer insisted, his anger being slowly replaced by a sense of growing dread. 

“He— he told her nobody wanted her around,” she admitted, her eyes closing and her face twisting with guilt before she hastily added, “which of course that’s not the case! I love (Y/N) like she’s my own sister...” Spencer felt his heart drop into the pit that had become his stomach as his fears were confirmed.  

“But?” Spencer added, tilting his head to the side, his voice growing quieter as the conversation continued. 

“...but the rest of us miss you, Spence,” JJ finally spoke up. “We haven’t seen you in ages outside of work! If she’s keeping you from spending time with your friends, that's a little bit of a red flag, isn't it?” She reasoned, standing to put a hand on his bicep to calm him.  

He angrily shook her off, the anxiety coursing through his veins shifting back into an icy rage. “She hasn’t kept me from doing anything, Jennifer,” he spat through gritted teeth as he held her gaze, which was a mix of shock and hurt at his tone.  

“Spence, I just meant that—” JJ started, but was immediately interrupted by Spencer, whose rage was steadily growing to the point where he was certain he was visibly trembling. 

“In fact, she has been continually insisting that I leave her behind to come out with you all, but given that I don’t drink much to begin with I usually just opt for a night in with her. I didn’t realize I needed permission from the rest of the team to make that decision for myself,” he bit back before turning to leave. 

“Where are you going, Reid? Reid! Come on, man, be reasonable!” Morgan called out, only for Spencer to ignore him and keep walking. If he stayed there any longer, he knew he would end up saying something he’d regret, and with the way most of them were talking about his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—he figured they’d find some way to blame her for his outburst if he did.

When he finally exited the bar, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and he turned on his heel, preparing for another round of arguing, only to be met with the now tear-streaked cheeks of Penelope Garcia. 

“What do you want, Garcia?” He snapped, his face softening as he took in her apologetic expression. 

“I— I’m sorry, Spencer,” she whispered. “I should have told Derek to shut up, I’m so sorry! I just— I hate when the people I love start fighting like that! I shut down and— and I know I should have stood up for her but I just— I just froze like a coward and—” her voice grew more frantic and upset before Spencer cut her off. 

“Garcia, it’s not your fault,” Spencer sighed, his anger fading away until the only thing he felt was the ache in his chest. “Derek was drunk and belligerent. You’re not responsible for his actions.” He paused as he took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just wish I could have been there to put a stop to it. She’s so sweet, and kind, and utterly terrified of people. I shouldn’t have sent her in by herself knowing that." His voice cracked as a fresh wave of tears started to fall down his own cheeks. 

“Spencer, you had no way of knowing any of this would happen,” Penelope wrapped Spencer in a tight hug, and he finally broke down. His body shook gently with soft, nearly silent sobs and he cried into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I know how much you love her.” Garcia’s own voice cracked as her heart ached for the crying boy in her arms.  

“Wh— what do I do, Penelope?” He mumbled into the sleeve of her sweater. “I just want to help her feel better.” That’s all he’d wanted since he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d never forget how emaciated she had looked, her skin pallid and her eyes nothing more than dim, lifeless pits with dark bruise-like rings underneath them.  

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Dr. (Y/L/N). She just graduated from the academy and has expertise in psycholinguistics as well as a doctorate in neuropsychology, so I have no doubt she’ll be an excellent addition to the team.”

Spencer had tried his hardest in the two months after that initial introduction to get to know her, to understand why she looked like a reanimated corpse (albeit a very beautiful one) who had just wandered out of a morgue. Over those two months, the two of them had grown closer and closer, thanks to much insistent pushing from him. At first, it came in the form of attempting to get her to join the rest of them for drinks at their bar of choice (the others would never invite her themselves but Spencer would insist to her that it was okay, that she was a part of the team), but quickly he realized that all might be a bit too much for her. So, one night, he told the team he wasn’t feeling up to going out and instead privately asked (Y/N) if she’d want to join him for pizza and a movie at his place since he wasn't feeling up to big crowds and he had a feeling neither was she. He had been prepared to be turned down but was pleasantly surprised when her face showed the slightest expression of piqued interest and she agreed.

He then started to skip out on pretty much all of the future invitations to go out for drinks with the rest of the team, opting instead to go home for pizza and Doctor Who or Star Trek marathons with her, and he started seeing a whole other side to her that no one else had even suspected could have existed. She’d slowly opened to him, occasionally letting out quiet and restrained laughs at his goofy jokes and puns at the beginning of their friendship.

Eventually, those soft titters grew into ebullient, beautiful laughs that were like music to his ears. Her smiles went from being forced and never meeting her eyes to lighting up her entire face, at times so brightly that Spencer swore she could illuminate a dark room with nothing but her smile. She showed that there was a side to her that was goofy, outgoing, and full of life.

It was around then (November 17 at 11:57 PM) that their relationship had started officially with a soft, tentative kiss goodnight; but from the very first time he heard her let out a soft, breathy giggle at his goofy joke about Spock having three ears (‘a left ear, a right ear, and a final front-ier!’), Spencer knew that he would marry her someday.

Or at least he had thought so, until tonight.  

“Give her some space to sort out her emotions, Spencer,” the voice of Penelope Garcia in his ear dragged him back into the present, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. “She loves you more than anything, and we both know that.” She let go and gave him a teary smile before wiping her cheeks.  

“You’re right,” he replied, taking in another deep, shuddering breath. “Plus, she walked away with my cardigan, and we both know she’s a stickler about returning borrowed clothing!” He attempted a joke, but the laugh he tried to give after cracking it came out more like another choked sob.  

“If I were you, I’d just give her a quick phone call and let her know that you love her no matter what anyone else says or thinks, okay? She needs to know that more than she needs anything else right now.”  

“Right. Yes, you’re right,” he muttered, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. “Thank you, Penelope.” 

“I’m always here for you, Spencer,” she smiled at him before adding, “both of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go tear Agent Morgan a new asshole for getting you dumped and hurting my best friend.” She took a second to shake her head and rub her own cheeks to dry them. “Call me once she makes it home safely to you, okay? Promise?” He nodded quietly. “Uh-uh-uh, what was it that one kid had told you a while back? ‘A promise doesn’t count unless you say it out loud,’ right?” 

“I promise,” Spencer felt a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He then walked down the block to his car, got in, and drove home to wait for (Y/N).  

When he arrived and had walked through the doorway, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed her number. It rang four times and then went to her voicemail.  

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Dr. (Y/L/N), I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as I am able. Thanks!” Beep. 

“Hi, (Y/N). So, Penelope filled me in on everything that happened,” he began shakily, and took a deep breath before he continued. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to stop Morgan from saying all of that, but please, please know that no one hates you, I promise. Penelope assured me that she was going to tear him a new one for what he said, and I promised her that I’d call her once you made it home safely.” He paused, searching for his next words carefully, and settled on, “I love you so much, angel. Please, please never forget that.” And then he had to hang up the phone, his eyes filling with more tears.  

He made his way to the couch and sat down, turning the TV on and finding a marathon of Buffy the Vampire Slayer playing. Knowing it was her favorite show, he left it on and patiently waited. On the couch sat a small stuffed cat with a blue and white spotted mushroom for a head that he had gifted her on a whim, Dr. Mewshroom, as she had taken to calling it. He grabbed Dr. Mewshroom and hugged it close to his chest as he leaned back on the couch and eventually dozed off. 

I paced up and down the 11th Street bridge for an hour before I decided to hop up and sit on the railing. My walking had warmed me up significantly, so I shed the cardigan Spencer had wrapped around my shoulders. Hopefully, it would be returned to him when they eventually found me. I stared down into the dark water beneath my dangling feet and tried to find the courage within me to jump, but I couldn’t give myself the final push I needed, just like all of the previous times I’d made this trip.  

I must have sat there for fifteen more minutes or so before I decided to give it up and go home to Spencer. Maybe, if I begged and pleaded with him, he’d take me back. I checked my phone to see that I had a missed call from him. Weird, I hadn’t even heard it ring. Before I could turn myself around to hop off the railing, I was grabbed from behind and a cloth was pressed to my mouth and nose, blocking me from screaming. My nose and throat filled with a burning sensation before everything faded to black... 

[sporesgalaxy]

LET ME TELL YOU THE SETUP FOR MY BEAUTIFUL COOKIE CLICKER LOVE STORY

it's not everything but it's a decent introduction to the characters. I've been writing this summary for weeks. I'm hoping that feeling like I can reference parts in the middle will give me more ideas......

why does it hate my images...ok fine no images. god

•••

0 Ascensions:

Cookie is always on the lookout for new ways to bake ungodly amounts of cookies, so she approaches Kirschtorte after reading about the doctor's experimental portal research having once resulted in the retreival of a small amount of alien matter.

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she does not touch a single morsel of the extravagant cookie spread that Ms. Cliquer made to butter her up. The same thing happens the second, fourth, fifth time they meet and discuss business, no matter what variety of cookies Cookie makes. At last Cookie subjects herself to the mortifying ordeal of directly asking Dr. Kirschtorte what kind of cookies she likes-- only to be shocked and horrified when the doctor says that she does not eat any cookies whatsoever.

Despite her inexplicable distaste for cookies, Michelle Kirschtorte is receptive to Cookie's business offer, but she remains unmoved by Cookie's sickly-sweet commercial persona. Secretly at first, Kirschtorte is deeply cynical about the whole arrangement; she was screwed over by her previous colleagues, and progress on her portal research has been stagnating for some time now because of it. Although she doesn't admit it to Cookie at first, the doctor feels humiliated by the prospect of turning to a baked goods corporation for funding. Michelle ends up accepting the deal under the impression that she is taking advantage of Cookie's deep pockets and naive enthusiasm for unorthodox theoretical baking techniques.

When the cookie-focused research initiatives start yeilding mind-bogglingly impressive results, Kirschtorte reassesses her portal research priorities and her impressions of her oddball benefactor. Cookies are, for some reason, the key to understanding and exploiting the greatest secrets of the universe. Even more impressively, Ms. Cliquer seems intuitively in touch with the logic behind these shocking cookie truths. What other great scientific discoveries could cookie research yeild? How does Cliquer think of this stuff? Why DOES everyone like cookies so damn much? Kirschtorte finds herself irresistably drawn in by these exciting scientific possibilities, as well as the much less sweet and more insatiably driven person she starts getting to know behind Cookie's crowd-pleasing public persona.

Despite a stilted start to their relationship, Cookie and Michelle get along very well once they find even footing. Both are driven to prove themselves through their work, both have been underestimated and cast aside by peers and superiors in the past. Cookie's obsessive drive to make and market infinite perfect cookies matches Michelle's obsessive drive to understand everything there is to know about the nature of the universe; both are deeply passionate about their work and typically striving tirelessly towards the same goal. Both believe that their ends justify their means, and that ethical concerns are a waste of time and a thorn in the side of progress.

Cookie has a knack for PR that Michelle has always lacked the patience for; Michelle understands and appreciates the true, transcendent importance of cookies nearly as much as Cookie does-- Cookie's business partners usually don't care about that part.

Cookie eventually achieves enlightenment and realizes the Secret of the Heavenly Chips, granting her the ability to Ascend. Cookie should be overjoyed at the cosmic knowledge within her grasp; great new possibilities in cookie production await her!

Yet Cookie drags her feet. She keeps finding excuses to stay where she is, keeps setting goals even as her progress slows to a crawl, and reaching those goals in this lifetime seems less and less feasible...

Still, the stress of failure and stagnation chips away at Cookie's resolve to keep dragging out her first iteration. The knowledge of how much she could be doing with the power Ascension would grant her makes Cookie increasingly irritable and bitter about the work which she's made her entire life revolve around.

Kirschtorte is stressed and angry about the slowed progress, too. She is increasingly afraid that age and death will catch up with herself and Cookie before they can discover everything there is to know about reality (and cookies). Michelle is vexed by Cookie's comparative lack of urgency-- or is it a lack of hope for any solution? Cookie has always been the most driven person Michelle's known, yet now Cookie's detatchedness toes the line of seeming resigned to failure. Michelle feels like everything she thought she understood about Cookie is slipping through her fingers, and she feels powerless against the onward march of time (DESPITE having access to time machines!), and she doesn't know how to cope.

The temptation of exponentially greater cookie production and the crushing agony of stagnation eventually outweigh Cookie's sentimental attachment to this particular iteration of her life. Cookie Ascends.

(Michelle lives the rest of her life feeling emptier in Cookie's absence, and never knowing why Cookie vanished.)

1st iteration to reach the Grandmapocalypse:

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she is offered a slice of Black Forest Cake, her favorite. Somewhat suspicious of the COOKIE Magnate offering her cake, Michelle still can't bring herself to resist. Cookie is clearly delighted.

Kirschtorte doesn't take Cookie seriously at first and Cookie knows it, and finds it funny. Kirschtorte has to be convinced of the omnipresence and significance of cookies thru material evidence. Cookie is more hands-on helping speed along her research, but only ever reveals information in bite-sized pieces on a need-to-know basis. It becomes increasingly clear to Kirschtorte that Cookie somehow knows a lot about the most far-fetched characteristics of cookies before they're scientifically proven...and that Cookie has a suspiciously good intuition for knowing things about Kirschtorte herself.

Cookie is delighted by her extra power and knowledge at first. She's entertained by using her extra experience to tease Kirschtorte. Cookie enjoys getting to spend more time with Michelle, despite how one-sided the relationship is early on. Michelle is drawn to Cookie even more from the get-go, because of her strange intuitive understanding of Michelle herself, as well as Cookie Theory.

During the first Grandmapocalypse, Cookie is overwhelmed and focuses on trying to feel in control rather than seeking help from Kirschtorte. When Dr. Kirschtorte approaches Cookie about it, Michelle is surprised by how stubbornly Cookie refuses to bend even slightly to the wishes of the Grandmatriarchs, no matter how logical and cost-effective that would be. Not fully understood by to Kirschtorte, this is motivated mostly by Cookie's resentment for her own grandmother (who is now a parf of the Grandma collective, of course). Cookie insists that any compliance or appeasement would only lead to Cookie and her company being trapped under the Grandmatriarchs' elderly thumb forever.

Instead, Cookie is dead set on overcoming the Grandmatriarchs' sabotage by outpacing them through brute force. Michelle sees this as a fight she is doomed to lose, but Cookie refuses to consider any alternatives.

Cookie's seemingly pointless uphill battle convinces Michelle that cooperating with the Grandmatriarchs is the only way to keep cookie production and research moving forward at a viable pace (she is objectively correct about this). Michelle wants to trust Cookie's leadership, but the two of them are getting older (this is especially visible on Michelle, who is effected by constant proximity to Cookieverse Portals), and Michelle is beginning to fear they might die before they uncover and exploit all the cookie-based secrets of the universe. After all the work they've done, the thought of not being able to see it through upsets Kirschtorte terribly. The Grandmatriarchs subconsciously whisper things to Michelle which exacerbate these fears-- something Michelle is susceptible to due to her proximity to the Cookieverse Portals.

Eventually, Kirschtorte caves. Against Cookie's wishes-- but in Kirschtorte's mind, for Cookie's sake as well as her own-- Kirschtorte convenes with the Grandmatriarchs anyways by using the Cookieverse Portals. She asks them for knowledge of how to lessen the Grandmatriarchs' wrath, and she asks for them to help her understand the true nature of the universe. In exchange, the Grandmatriarchs' ask Michelle to bond her mind with them just a little (still retaining most of her individuality), and vow that she will continue to proliferate portals to the cookieverse as long as she lives. That seems like an easy promise to Michelle, and it makes sense that they would want this. She already makes portals to the cookieverse all the time, so no big deal. Cookie was probably being stubborn and mistrusting for nothing!

Michelle performs the Elder Pledge ("a simple ritual involving anti-aging cream, cookie batter mixed in the moonlight, and a live chicken"), and the Grandmapocalypse is halted. The Wrinklers and Flesh Highways withdraw and cookie production returns to normal, with the Research Facility's grandma augmentation benefits still at work.

Cookie isn't sure what to make of the sudden withdraw of the Grandmatriarchs, but she has a bad feeling.

The way Michelle's deal works is that Kirschtorte will die normally someday, but then the Grandmatriarchs will carry her consciousness and memories to another iteration of Kirschtorte who asks for the same deal, and their knowledge will be combined into 1 continuous consciousness. This will repeat over and over, with more knowledge added to the collective each time, and each new Kirschtorte never knowing about her past selves or the secrets they've uncovered before she complies with the Grandmatriarchs.

Kirschtorte asks the Grandmatriarchs if they can do the same for Cookie, and is shocked to learn that Cookie was never going to run out of time, and never told her. Was Cookie willing to waste the rest of Kirschtorte's limited lifetime arguing with a grandma hivemind?! Did the work they do together matter so little to her?!!

When Michelle confronts her about it, Cookie learns in turn that Michelle is permanently cosmically bound to the Grandmatriarchs. Cookie feels betrayed, but she mostly blames Grandma-- ignoring Michelle's agency in the situation, thoughtlessly belittling her to keep her on a pedestal.

They continue to have problems in this and future iterations, with Kirschtorte always spending a large portion of their time together unaware of all their past lives until suddenly becoming aware when she inevitably goes against Cookie's wishes and speaks to the Grandmatriarchs. And yet, as much as they both claim to be ruthless utilitarians who put their work above all else, it is always quite obvious how much they admire each other and how badly they always want to be together, even at their worst. With all the time they spend building and destroying and rebuilding a cookie empire over and over again, they come to know and understand each other very intimately. They're both insufferably weird about each other when they both have all their memories.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 1

tw: cheating, mentions of divorce, hurt, angst, anger, crying, sadness

I don't condone cheating at all. But I know every marriage and even relationship is different. What one person might do in a situation, another might not do it..... Every time I write something, I'm always writing with the thought of the main goal being OC or in this case 'Y/N' ending up with the man I'm writing about (in this case it's Ghost). So this is going to be angst... but Y/n & Ghost are going to stay together at the end of this little story....

If this upsets you, pisses you off, or you hate it... I'm sorry :( Sort of my first time writing angst like this, so send me the feedback plsssss.

5 years.

A lot can happen in half a decade... especially in a marriage. Anniversaries, babies, a huge vacation, or a new house can happen in five years.

Or nothing at all can happen in five years. Nothing except the same thing almost every day; go to work, see your husband off on his next mission, and welcome him home with loving arms when he returned. But it wasn't like you didn't enjoy it. You loved being married to Simon. He was everything and more that you could ever dream of, even if he was the complete opposite of you.

The mysterious, brooding, and intimidating of a man falling for you - the bubbly, sweet, and nice woman that you were. The only two things that you both had in common was that when he first met you, you were quiet. It was only because you were a shy thing, nervous to meet anyone. But when the two of you developed an interesting, yet odd, friendship you opened up like a social butterfly; asking him about his job and his past - two things he would never talk about much - and his teammates which you had met shortly after.

Simon was never one for commitment, and he truthfully told you that the moment you began tearing down his walls; his shields. Did it hurt? No not really... you already had an idea he wasn't into being in a relationship. But he never seemed to be able to stay away from you. Always texting you, awkwardly asking to hang out or go grab food and drinks somewhere. He knew you were the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with the moment he laid eyes on you for the first time..... and when the moment came that he finally showed you his face, there was no turning back; you two had fallen for each other.

So where did it all go wrong? Was it when he asked you to marry him and you cried out "Yes!"... or was it after he returned from one his dangerous missions?

You couldn't figure it out... but something had changed in your marriage as of a few months ago. Simon would text you, letting you know he'd be late coming home, often walking through the door well after you were fast asleep. Or when he did come home early, he was more tired than usual, telling you he was taking a shower and heading to bed; leaving you alone to eat dinner by yourself. Even conversations with him had changed, where he once gave all his attention to your rambling about work and friends, he now zoned out, eyes lost in thought somewhere.

You thought it was work..... because that's what it always was. Nothing could have prepared you for the moment you received an email at work on your lunch break; that email. Thankfully you have been sitting in your car before opening it. With the long and weird letters, you knew the sender had to have either created a fake email or set it to where you couldn't respond or trace back to who it was. But that didn't matter..... what mattered was the videos inside.

The moment your finger clicked on the first one, your heart stopped.

Simon...your Simon... was in an unknown room, naked, standing behind a woman who was on all fours on a bed while he fucked her from behind. Even with his mask on, it was so easy to tell it was him - even when your initial thought was that it wasn't him. His tattoos were an instant giveaway, but you didn't look at that... you could always spot your husband on his build alone.

"Y'like that?" You heard him say as he pulled on the woman's hair, arching her back further into him.

It felt like your world had stopped. Your husband who you thought could never do anything like that, was cheating on you. The instant prickliness in your eyes burned as tears threatened to fall, but you found yourself continuing to look at the video.

"Answer me," He commanded, making the girl moan out loud when he slapped her ass hard.

"Y-yes Ghost," Her pitchy answer made you cringe.

You clicked off the video, shutting your eyes as tears began to fall. You wanted to scream, to throw the damn phone out of the car, but you couldn't..... there were five other videos in that email. And you watched all of them; each one lasting a little longer than the first; taken from different angles, you could tell that the camera was placed in different spots in the room and you wondered if Simon even knew if they were there. The tiny numbers at the corner of the screen showed you that the videos were over the span of a couple of months..... the same time frame when you started questioning what changed in your marriage.

What hurt you the most was the way Simon fucked the girl - who had to be the one to who you sent the videos since the bitch took the liberty to blur out her face. He was rough with her; calling her a good slut for him, choking her, pounding her harder every time. He had never done that with you; to you. Was he into rough sex? Why didn't he tell you?

You knew why... and for a second you lied to yourself pretending you didn't. But you knew.............. Simon was a big man, and that even included the size of his cock. And he knew that. But did he think you couldn't take him in the way she could? That you were fragile? You two had made love plenty of times, and not once had you ever told him to ease up or slow down... but you also never told him to go harder or faster either.

If you had to be honest with yourself, sex with Simon was... vanilla. And you felt a sob escape your throat when you realized that you had mentioned to Simon in the past that you really loved slow and passionate sex; lovemaking and soft. And your husband was one who listened and executed everything. Whether that was an order from his Captain or a request from his wife. You wanted soft and slow, so you got it.

But dammit that didn't mean you weren't open to trying new things!

And now... you probably would never even get to try any of that. If Simon was so into her, what did he need you for?

************************************************************************

That night you found yourself crying in the tub as you took your bath. Simon had texted you saying he would be home late, and your mind instantly went back to those videos from earlier. He was with her.

You wanted to call him and lash out about how could he do this to you; to both of you. But doing that felt too....familiar. It was the same as it always been right? You'd get into a relationship, thinking everything was going great, only to find out that the guy cheated. Your last relationship taking the biggest toll on you when you first found out he did. This time you felt numb, confused, and envy. You were envious at the fact that she got to see a part of Simon he hadn't shown you, confused because he was your husband and you wanted to beg him to come home, and numb because you knew no matter how much you tried to give love out to the world, you'd always be the one who got hurt; whose heart was stomped all over.

Those tears steadily fell as you got out of the tub, put on your pajamas, and crawled into your side of the bed. You couldn't sleep. You tried, you really did. But how could you?

It wasn't until after 11pm that you heard the front door open and close followed by heavy boots. Simon was home. You shut your eyes, pretending to be asleep, when you heard footsteps get closer to the bedroom. Simon made his way into the room quietly, making sure not to disturb your 'sleep', and heading to the ensuite bathroom. As soon as the door shut and you heard the shower turn on, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry." you kept telling yourself in your head. You almost wished you had the guts to get up and go sleep on the couch, but if you did, you knew he would come to ask what were you doing. You could leave the apartment fully, and go sleep at a hotel... but that was even worse.

As you kept going back and forth in your head, Simon finished his shower and was getting ready to walk back into the room. You quickly turned over so your back would be facing him whenever he got in bed and shut your eyes once more when the door opened. He carefully walked around the room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and putting them on before easing his way into his side of the bed.

Your heart skipped a beat at just the thought of him going to sleep next to you; like nothing was going on. But what really shocked you was when he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest as he gently kissed your neck.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered, "so much."

You did everything in your power to not let your heart skip another beat; to not have your body tense at his words. It hurt so much.... but you snuggled back into him and faked a soft snore so he would continue to believe you were asleep. And that's how the two of you fell asleep that night... even if it was only until 3:30am when your eyes opened again and you found yourself sliding out of bed, leaving a sleeping husband in bed while you made your way to the living room.

Pacing back and forth you continued to think about everything. The videos that you wanted to watch again because it's like you needed to be sure it was Simon fucking that woman roughly. The fact that he told you he loved you last night despite not really loving you anymore. Who loves someone yet breaks their hearts?

Somehow you found yourself sitting outside in one of the chairs on the patio. The early morning air was cold, and you welcomed the shiver that ran up your spine as a distraction. At least it was a true and honest feeling; the cold wind brushing against your face was real. And you stayed out there even after your body felt numb, but you ignored it as your mind swam in different directions. It wasn't until Simon's groggy voice pulled you back to the earth.

"What're y'doin' out here sweetheart?" He asked as he walked up and squatted down in front of you. You looked at your husband. Really looked at him. How was the man that had given you so much had become someone you didn't even recognize in that moment. Why was he acting like he cared? You didn't respond, and that caused his eyebrows to draw together as he reached out and grabbed your hands, "Everything alright love?"

You sucked in a breath, eyes prickling as the tears threatened to fall, "I-I think we should get a divorce."

Simon's eyes widened and you saw his entire body tense under the dim light of the moon in the sky and a deep frown on his face as he looked at you in utter confusion. "What?" You pulled your hands from his grip and stood up, making him stand up out of your way. You didn't even give him the chance to say anything else as panic set in and you walked back into the house. Of course, he didn't let you get far as he walked in after you before gently pulling your arm so you'd face him again. "What do y'mean you want a divorce?"

If the floor could swallow you up, you'd let it. You didn't want to have this conversation, but you had no choice. You couldn't hold back those feelings anymore. You let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed your hands down your face to wipe away the fallen tears, "We should get a divorce, Simon."

His jaw tensed as he looked at you like you had grown two heads or something; eyes widened and mouth slightly agape in shock. "Why?" He couldn't help the tightening of his hand on your arm. Like he was afraid to let you go.

Your gaze fell on his chest. You couldn't look him in the eyes, "Because.... you don't love anymore Simon."

"That's not true."

"Is it?"

"I do love-"

"Do you?-" You raised your voice as you pulled your arm from his grip and hand immediately going into your robe pocket to pull out your phone "-if you do then why would you do this?" You pulled up the email, clicking on the video before showing your screen to him.

"What is-" He tried to ask, but before he could finish his sentence his eyes landed on the video. The video of him and the woman; on that bed; fucking. You didn't even know which video you clicked on, but by the way his eyebrows furrowed deeply and the deep frown on his face was even more downturned, you knew what he was looking at was himself.... cheating on your.

"Wanna see another? I got six," you sourly chuckled before pulling the phone from in front of him and clicking on another.

"Where do you get this?" He asked, his voice somewhere between frustration and sadness.

You glanced up at him, pausing the video and seeing that he was looking down at your phone in disgust. "I wish I fucking knew... because I hate-" a sob left your mouth "- I hate that I had to get an email at work from whoever the fuck sent this to me just for me to find out that you cheated on me! No that you've been cheating on me!" your voice raising after each sentence as you shoved the phone back in your pocket.

Turning away from him, you damn near slapped your hands over your eyes as you cried. Now, Simon had seen you cry many times before... but crying in front of him right now made you feel horrible; feel weak. And you didn't want to show him how weak you were. Even when he reached out and touched your arm again, you stepped away because you knew if he did, you'd crumble.

"Sweetheart," he said. His voice was soft, low, weak, like he was trying to understand his own emotions, but also to understand what was happening to your marriage. You didn't acknowledge him, and that just made him walk around to stand in front of you, making you lower your head, "Y/n.. Listen, I fucked up-"

"Stop." you cut him off as you shook your head.

"Please."

"Don't."

"I'm sorry love." he pushed, taking your head into both of his hands as he raised yours to look at him.

You pulled away from him once more, "Simon I can't do this," you backed up putting some distance between you and him, "You don't love me anymore. I get it-"

He closed the gap between you two instantly, "I do love you."

"I just wish you would of told me," you kept going, "Wish you would have said you didn't want me anymore." When he opened his mouth once more you kept talking, not allowing him to get a word in, "I know it's more stuff for you on base, but just get the divorce papers and I swear I'll sign them. I'll leave. I'll let you be happy Simon."

He wasn't listening. The fact that he had let his fucked up mind get between the two of you, and him being weak and dishonest to cheat on you was crashing his world right in front of his eyes. Usually, it's the cheater who is sorry they were caught, but Simon was feeling both. He had been dealing with the thoughts of being honest with you for a couple of weeks, but here you were telling him you found out about his infidelity and you wanted a divorce. His eyes were watering and red from his own tears threatening to spill. He was an idiot to think you'd want to stay, even if he had told you the truth himself.

But Simon was also selfish. He didn't want a divorce. He was on the brink of cutting the woman off who had flirted her way into his pants on more than one occasion, and he wanted to tell you the truth... tell you how sorry he was and make it up to you in any way he could. And you two would move on....... maybe not happily at first, but you would still be his. Not divorce him.

"No." He pulled you by the waist, trapping you as he looked at you, "No divorce."

Your eyes widened as you looked at him like he was crazy, "Si-"

"No. I'm not doin' it." Pushing on his chest, you tried to wiggle your way from his hold, but he only gripped tighter, "I'm so sorry Y/n. I fucked up sweetheart."

"Simon please!" you cried out, your thoughts crumbling, "I can't do this."

Everything crumbled as you pushed on him more, but he was stronger; always stronger. And his touch alone was making you bawl as you weakly hit on his chest. You hated him so much... so much that you knew deep down no matter what you always would love him. And that just made you cry harder. He was manipulating you. He had to be. It always went that way, didn't it? Your ex-boyfriend saying how sorry he was only to hurt you more. Simon wouldn't be any different, would he?

After what felt like minutes of your weak attempt at pushing him away, your arms gave up as they hung by your side. Simon hadn't let you go the entire time, his own couple of tears falling down his cheek as he listened to you almost wail in anger.... anger because of him. He wanted to take one of his guns and shoot himself in the head because of the pain he was causing you.

When he eventually pulled back a little for you to look at him, you couldn't help but nervously bite your lip. You wanted to believe him, but you couldn't, "Please go get the papers, Simon."

Depending on how you all like this, I may post part 2 when I'm finished with it. Currently working on it.

[synchodai]

When I say Tyland Lannister is my favorite character...

I am being 100% dead serious. Here is why I prefer this seemingly average nobleman over the many many many fan favorites in Fire and Blood.

Tyland Lannister is a second son in a story about second sons. Whether his feelings on this are as strong as Aemond's or Daemon's, we never know for sure in the books, but it's obvious that he's subservient to a mirror image of himself who only has more authority because of a few seconds separation between twins. It's a great display of both the arbitrariness and rigidity of succession.

His initial role in the Dance is as the master of coin for the greens. He's depicted as a typical Lannister: charming, comely, and cunning. He did what any savvy accountant would do and divided the crown's treasury amongst different allied regions for safe-keeping, ensuring that if King's Landing were sacked, their enemies wouldn't loot their coffers dry and they'd still have plenty of gold for their war efforts.

And of course, King's Landing gets sacked. Tyland is put in the black cells and ordered to be tortured by Rhaenyra to extract the gold's whereabouts. Winter is coming, people are starving and rioting, her army is dwindling, so she desperately needs that gold. Tyland is gelded, maimed, disfigured, and blinded but the torturers get nothing out of him.

Mind you, this man has been a rich, pampered bureaucrat all his life and he endured all that without breaking. When Aegon II releases Tyland from those cells, he has no fingernails, his eyes have been gouged out and/or sewn shut, this man who was once known for his good looks doesn't look human anymore — but he still manages to maintain his wits so much so that he plays an important role after the Dance.

Even with Rhaenyra dead, there are still armies raising their banners for her eldest surviving son, Aegon Trois. Tyland tells Adult Aegon to kill Child Aegon because obviously, the latter threatens the former's claim and Tyland's understandably angry over what his mom did. Aegon Dos is like, nah, I'll keep the boy hostage instead — that'll keep the armies at bay more than outright killing him.

So Tyland volunteers to go to Myr to hire sellswords for Aegon 2 since their armies are pretty much kaput after six years of this civil war. Tyland is blind at this point I remind you — there is a huge chance this man will never get to go home again. But he does it anyway, because even after years of fighting, he keeps his unwavering loyalty to the monarch he declared for.

Aegon II dies while Tyland is in Myr, and Tyland goes back to Westeros just in time to see Cregan Stark use his powers as the new Hand to marry Aegon III and Princess Jaehaera to unite the green and black sides. Cregan dusts off his hands, says my work here is done, warns the boy king not to trust anyone, then leaves for the North for everyone else to sort this mess out.

Now comes the part where Tyland shines as a character. He becomes the Hand of Aegon III and when you see his policies detailed in the book, it's clear that his goal is focused on repairs and renumerations. After what happened to him, he has every right to be spiteful and bitter against the blacks, but instead he "claimed a curious failure of memory, insisting that he could not recall who had been black and who had been green." He abolished the heavy taxes imposed on the smallfolk, sent out gold to lords whose holdings had been devastated during war, and set out to rebuild the Realm's granaries and fleet. Cleaning up is a tedious, unglamorous job — and because of his monstrous appearance and former allegiances, Tyland was looked upon with distrust.

And yet, while other regents grasped for power and tried taking advantage of the 13-year-old King Aegon III, Tyland seemed to be different. If he wanted power he could have married his twin brother's widow and convinced the boy-king to route more resources towards Casterly Rock and the Westerlands. But he didn't.

Instead, he genuinely seemed to be a father figure to Aegon III.

Tyland Lannister, blind and crippled, had always treated the king with deference, speaking to him gently, seeking to guide rather than command.

And for that, many lords saw him as a weak Hand. But Aegon, who cared for very little and never laughed and was always sullen, seemed to care for Tyland.

When the plague ravaged King's Landing, Tyland dutifully prioritized it over quashing the Ironborn raids at Lannisport. He was the last person to become afflicted with the Winter Fever, and the king sat by his Hand's side during his final hours. When the council starts discussing who should be the new Hand, Aegon (the boy who rarely ever speaks) says:

I would have Lord Rowan as my Hand. Ser Tyland thought well enough of him to offer him my sister’s hand in marriage, so I know he can be trusted.

This boy trusted Tyland, the man who only years ago wanted him dead.

So it's easy to imagine that this man saw Aegon III as the boy he was responsible for, as the son he could never have because of what the war had done to him. Tyland Lannister was a broken man who despite losing everything, his king and his brother and himself, kept a broken Realm and broken boy together when everyone else swarmed like vultures just trying to pick at carcasses.

What motivated this man's loyalty for a boy whose mother mutilated him? Did he regret pushing for the death of an innocent child and this was his penance? Did this man who gave everything for his cause think that this boy was something that could still give all that sacrifice and tragedy meaning? Was the mercy and kindness he afforded an apology for the horrifying trauma that scarred this boy — did he feel responsible for his mother's downfall and the failure to save his uncle? Did his disfigurement and blindness allow him to let go of the man he once was and become someone capable of seeing the folly of pride and power?

Here is his obituary in Fire and Blood:

Ser Tyland Lannister had never been beloved. After the death of Queen Rhaenyra, he had urged Aegon II to put her son Aegon to death as well, and certain blacks hated him for that. Yet after the death of Aegon II, he had remained to serve Aegon III, and certain greens hated him for that. Coming second from his mother’s womb, a few heartbeats after his twin brother, Jason, had denied him the glory of lordship and the gold of Casterly Rock, leaving him to make his own place in the world. Ser Tyland never married nor fathered children, so there were few to mourn him when he was carried off. The veil he wore to conceal his disfigured face gave rise to the tale that the visage underneath was monstrous and evil. Some called him craven for keeping Westeros out of the Daughters’ War and doing so little to curb the Greyjoys in the west. By moving three-quarters of the Crown’s gold from King’s Landing whilst Aegon II’s master of coin, Tyland Lannister had sown the seeds of Queen Rhaenyra’s downfall, a stroke of cunning that would in the end cost him his eyes, ears, and health, and cost the queen her throne and her very life. Yet it must be said that he served Rhaenyra’s son well and faithfully as Hand.

Tyland wasn't extraordinarily badass, noble, or even skilled. He was an excellent politician but no way the best. But I think that's what makes him compelling to me — that he's this down-to-earth depiction of a POW, a war veteran by all accounts, trying to pick up the pieces and slowly glue what remains of the Realm and himself back into something vaguely human.

We tell so many stories about the glory, the tragedy, and the losses of war. But I think it's important and beautiful to tell stories of those bravely and optimistically choosing to keep living in the aftermath as well.

[ellavatorz]

Kiss me Plenty || c.b. x reader

summary: you play the “I can’t stop kissing you,” prank on colby.

tags/cw: implied smut, kisses (lots of ‘em), tooth-rotting sweet fluff, established relationship, youtuber(s) relationship.

a/n: there isn’t much for me to say except that I have a very strong yearn for colby to be kissed 24/7. if that man isn’t being kissed at every second of the day like he deserves, then the world is a cruel joke of a place.

and a huge thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last work, you guys are so sweet T.T happy holidays!

- - -

You have the camera set up first thing in the morning. It’s hidden out of visible-sight and is focused on Colby’s usual spot; his desk, where he normally films intros to videos amongst other tasks in respect to his shared channel with Sam.

The plot of your video to be filmed today is explained to your audience. All while a grin is spread on your lips. “Today’s goal is to annoy the shit out of Colby by kissing the hell out of him. I don’t know how he’ll react considering he’s hyper-affectionate as it is… but its also normally something he does rather than me initiating it. So maybe he’ll suspect something right off the bat? Who knows!”

By the time Colby has migrated from your shared bed to his desk, you’re just outside the door, anxiously prepared for whatever may come of the situation. Without much of an extravagant entrance, you move toward where he is and stand behind him. His eyes are glued to the screen and you pretend to seem intrigued by whatever it is he’s looking at.

A yawn escapes his mouth as he reaches an arm behind himself, subconsciously searching for any part of you to grasp onto and reel in. “Good morning, baby.” He rasps, last night’s rest still grappling at his body.

“Morning,” you reply, allowing him to pull you closer. You take this as an advantage to wrap your arms around his shoulders from where you now stand beside him. “What are you working on today?”

Colby’s gaze is still caught on the screen when his own arm is snaked around your waist. His eyes flicker from one end to another, clearly focused on whatever he’s reading. “Just emails right now. I have a bit of review and editing tasks to get done on the apparel website too..”

“Ah, I see.” You sigh. Your eyes flash a mischievous glint toward the camera before you begin leaning into his space to plant a soft peck to his cheek. “Do you need anything? Water? Snacks?”

Still enraptured by work, he acknowledges your question half-heartedly. “No, love. Thank you though.”

You feign a frown at his response and begin swaying his chair left to right when the hold on your waist is replaced by the computer’s mouse. He scrolls through several pages, reading what he can manage to as you continue rocking his chair.

“What time do you think you’ll be done?” You question innocently, though you both are aware that his work is capable of enveloping the entirety of his day. He shrugs, too focused to respond. You take this as an opportunity to leave a kiss on the crown of his head, moving behind his chair to loosely circle your arms around his neck. “I think I’m gonna finish my Christmas shopping while you’re still here.”

He hums and it’s evident that he isn’t regarding your presence to the full extent that it’s normally at. You huff and lean over his shoulder to litter butterfly-light kisses along the side of his neck. He unconsciously cranes his neck, providing you with more access to the skin.

“Shouldn’t you come and eat breakfast first? You haven’t eaten anything.” You ponder aloud, and this time, he shakes his head.

“I’m fine, babe.“ he mutters, eyes squinting in the analysis of his emails. Your tongue comes out to swipe at your lips, wetting them before leaning further into his space and kissing him straight on the mouth. At this, he cocks his head to the side, granting you access for more.

You continue to press into him, feeling accomplished when you realize that now he’s fully focused on you. The kiss is languid and feels good enough to praise, but before you can fully enjoy it, Colby is pulling away with a pitiful smile. You don’t even have to question him because he’s apologizing in an instant.

“I’m sorry, petal. I really have to get these things done. I promise as soon as I get this out of the way, I’m all yours.” He says and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart. God, he really is the cutest. With the way his eyes glimmer at you, you’re confident with the idea that this man could un-alive your childhood pet and get away with it by just looking at you with those damned ocean eyes.

“Just a minute more?” shaking off the thought of ending the video early out of awe for your boyfriend, you continue your antics. You plead instead, batting your lashes tauntingly while returning to his side.

He blinks owlishly at you and ultimately accepts, pulling you into his lap by the hips and allowing you to straddle him comfortably. You grin, wasting no time and diving straight in for a passionate kiss. His hands snake around you to land on your ass, giving a gentle squeeze to which you groan into his lips for.

For a second, you’re convinced that this moment would last for an eternity with the pace that he’s taking. Theres not a doubt that he’d absolutely waste an entire day just to kiss you, and in this case you want this to be one of those days. His kiss is smooth, gentle, yet fierce and meaningful. Your hands move on their own accord; one pressing into the broad of his chest and the other entangling into his hair.

There’s a moan serenading your ears after a few rough tugs to the strands on his head. However, before you know it, he’s giving you one last playful tug to your lip and placing a good space between the two of you. While you’re grateful for this moment to breathe, you also fall clueless as to why the hell he stopped.. until, of course, you remember that you’re filming a video, and he’s working. Hello!

“Do you know how distracting you can be?” Colby chuckles, and you take a few seconds to take in his appearance; hair tussled, eyes dark and dilated, lips swollen with a few teeth indentations caused due to your own accord. You almost want to spend the rest of the video admiring your work, but conclude that the show must go on.

“What ever do you mean, coleslaw?” You quip, pushing against his hands from where they’ve been placed on your shoulders to distance you from him.

He immediately motions for you to get off of him, his hands already shoving at your chest. “Coleslaw? You’re done. Get off of me.”

You laugh and reluctantly remove yourself from his lap only to make an attempt at lifting him up with you. As if knowing exactly what you’re about to do, he drops his weight into his chair. You grunt, tugging on his arms with all your might. He doesn’t budge.

“Baby,” you whine, and add a childish stomp for emphasis. “Can’t you just take today off to spend time with me? Please?”

He falls limp at your words, tossing his head back against the chair’s headrest and huffs in thought. “We already hung out yesterday. The entire day! What do you want to do anyway?”

Pouting, you take advantage of his loose posture to throne his lap once more. Again, circling his neck with your arms and trying to pull him impossibly closer. Though, he does his best to keep a stoic expression and an emotional stiffness to prevent persuasion.

“I miss you,” the words seemingly fall on deaf ears as he remains unfazed, eyes wandering around the room; in other words, anywhere but you. “..just wanted to kiss you today.. but i guess you don’t want my kisses. guess I’ll just find someone else who does—“

His sigh mimics one of defeat. His hold on your tightens in protectiveness, as if afraid you may be taken from him. You begin to feel that bubble of mischief rising to your cheeks, tugging your lips into a smile. Yes! It’s working!

“One more kiss, and i seriously have to get back to work, okay?” He gambles, and suddenly your smile is fading into a frown. He directs his stare back to you, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. “What, isn’t that what you want? Take it or leave it, baby.”

You bare your teeth in grimace, eyes twinkling with competitiveness before you dive in. Planting your lips on his, you nip and lap at the opening he gives you. Without much hesitance, he’s reciprocating in eagerness. Your tongues dance in the heat of the moment, teeth clashing with force. It’s clear how much you two want each other. And it’s even more evident just how far you’re willing to go for it.

“God, what’s gotten into you?” He manages to slur through the daze you’ve entrapped him in. The intimacy in the kiss exceeds even deeper when you apply pressure against his crotch, gaining a desperate reaction in return. He whimpers against your lips, bringing you impossibly closer to his form as he ruts against you.

“just.. really.. want.. you.” Your voice tapers off into a moan with each breath you take in between. And that’s when you realize. Oh shit. he’s hard.

A probing feeling at your clothed entrance is all it takes for you to pull back and freeze, hands instantly darting for the camera from where it was hidden just a few minutes ago. You focus the rest of the footage toward you, regarding your boyfriend’s lustful daze as a sign to come clean. Placing one hand on his cheek while the other holds the camera, you give a breathy and worried giggle.

“Are you—“ you start, motioning toward the evident tent in his sweats. His eyes waver from your face for a mere second to assess the situation before returning to you. “Colby?”

“Is this is a prank?” He mumbles, cocking his head toward the camera in your hand. You nod, curtaining your smile by placing a palm over your mouth. “Oh,”

“Colby, It’s a prank. I didn’t expect it to go this far!” You admit, and suddenly the giddiness you had been shielding from escaping you throughout the video is released. You laugh in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh. Guys, if you saw anything…. No you didn’t. Haha! But seriously, my poor baby suffered today so if you enjoyed the video, be sure to like and subscribe. Until next time, bye!”

The moment the video comes to an end, Colby is cursing you up and down for the scheme you had hidden from him. However, his scolding shortly concludes with a soft, and admittedly disappointing, “—had me all excited..”

“Oh my poor baby,” you coo, both of you now free from an audience’s presence via camera. Holding his face in your hands, you apply pressure to his cheeks, forcing his lips to pucker when you go in for a gentle kiss. “‘M sorry. The fans really wanted to see what you’d do.”

“Well now they know, so can we please not do that again. you’re very irresistible and convincing you know that?”

You press a gentle peck to his cheek and huff. “Yeah I’ve heard it a few times from my boyfriend.”

“Wow. I feel bad for your boyfriend.” Colby jokes playfully.

“Do you? Hm. Guess I should be a little nicer to him.”

“Maybe.” He pouts his lips toward you, proceeding to lift you from where the two of you sit on his office chair. Your legs wrap around his middle as he travels toward your shared bed. “I think your boyfriend deserves it.”

“I think so too,” you smile. Continuing from where you had left off, you both spend the rest of the morning doing exactly as you begged for; spending the day together. And making out, of course. And maybe a little more than that.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Timeline Prevention Squad

Clockwork is trying to catch up on paperwork because even the gods had to do tedious work. He is flipping through pages and pages of time concerning reports when he stumbles across a particular request stuck between three old Speed Force crimes reports.

A request from Mordecai Wayne asking the time accident for help to his original time. It was filed through a ritual of one of his lost temples.

Clockwork gapes at it, suddenly realizing he forgot to follow up and had left Mordecai Wayne - better known as Bruce Wayne - to fling around the timeline.

Clockwork, when he was young, had allowed humans to set up temples and given them direct runes to send their burned parchment to him for requests. Initially, he designed the request ritual to enable humans to help or prepare for future disasters.

Give them a little warning in the form of deviation.

Then, humans turned it into trying to control the future. Or to change what had happened by having altered the past. They started thinking he would move the times to fit their desired outcome.

Tried to offer people sacrifices when he ignored the requests. Clockwork can watch the timelines like an observer over a parade, but humans put on the parade at the end of the day.

It was their free will that gave him a show. And it was this free will that cost lives that shouldn't have ended because of other humans' greed.

He closed his temples, scrambled his runes, and let his temples rot.

Clockwork thought he got them all, but he obviously left behind some crumbs of his old worshipers.

Those crumbs were enough for Bruce Wayne to painfully piece together and redo his ritual to send him a request for aid in his time placement.

He hadn't even read it, having flung it into one of his filing cabinets to look over later and... didn't.

Clockwork snapped his fingers, pulling up Bruce's timeline. He winces when he sees it too late; it's past the point, but luckily, Tim Drake pulled him out and brought him home.

People don't know that Clockwork can't undo timelines- he just makes new ones that stream off his intervention.

The most recent time he stepped in was with Danny Fenton in a universe created due to Merlin asking Clockwork to save his lover Arthur, and thus, certain events did not come to pass- like the finding of Gotham.

He rescued Daniel's family by freezing them just as the explosion happened, allowing the young hero to think his dark future had never come to pass. That was not true.

There is still a world where Daniel's family died in the explosion, and it existed right allowed side the one that they didn't.

He could do the same and step in to prevent Bruce from ever getting hit with the Omega Beams, but that would create six different timelines, which would be a pain to file for. Daniel was only two, and he-

Wait. Daniel.

That's what he could do!

He couldn't make up the fact Bruce Wayne got lost in time and asked for aid. But he could send compensation in the form of one eager gooddoer who would help him in his ultimate goal.

Make Gotham safe.

And who better than a child with a strong sense of justice and the power of a minor God?

After all, Bruce's request wasn't to get back home. He thought he was going to die from the overlapping beams. Bruce thought there was no more hope for him.

Instead his request was

Please allow me to ensure my kids are okay and will be alright once I pass.

He picks up his sticky notes, scrambling a quick message to Danny. He pauses momentarily, wondering if he should admit his mistake, but that would.....ruin his reputation.

He chooses to lie by omission.

Dear Daniel,

Please come to my Keep. I have a mission that requires your assistance in an alternate timeline.

You must help keep Bruce Wayne and his kids safe. Whatever the costs are, as is his request for aid from a higher being.

Daniel couldn't resist a mission that sounded like he was a hero, and it didn't mention who the aid was requested.

To ensure Daniel will never learn he will....tell him that the Waynes could never see Phantom or......or he be trapped there forever!

Yes perfect.

A few seconds after sending the sticky note through a portal, Clockwork senses Daniel pick up the note.

And suddenly, he sees events flash before his eyes. Scenes of Daniel following Gotham's hero. Rescuing them from their worst rouges while Bats. Circling through the nights to stop the more minor pity crimes that they were too exhausted to handle.

Enrolling into Gotham Academy to ensure their civilian safety and status. Getting close to the younger Wayne and even obtaining an internship with Tim Drake to help him at WE.

Then, Daniel gets more substantial and robust due to all the deaths that drenched Gotham. It would be just like a Kryptonian on a planet of a Blue Sun.

It would make him more robust than a yellow sun, and Daniel would flush there!

Clockwork smiles as the visions end. He did a great thing making this suggestion. Phantom will be fantastic in Gotham!

Now, hopefully, that pesky free will won't ruin his plan-

A vision of Daniel being worshiped as a Phantom as different Gotham natives start to believe him, and an unlock god appears.

Clockwork winces, but he figures if no human ever sees Phantom unless he is there for righteous heroism, he can understand why they were confused.

Which isn't so bad-

A different version of Daniel possibly appears in the future. This one shows Daniel in a bright red suit at WE with Tim Drake hyperventilating not too far away. Apparently, he suspects Daniel of being Phantom, but his hormones are getting in the way of his logical thought.

This wasn't so bad as it wasn't a cult. It was just risking Daniel's secret identity. Then again, he could honeypot his way out-

A different future appears. One where Daniel accidentally convinces the Bat children that he's stalking their Father. They think Daniel fancies Bruce Wayne, despite the alarming age difference, and try to block him at every turn.

This is okay; there were different outcomes, but nothing bad.

And it's already been done. He can't change the past, not without making more timelines.

He sighs.

Hopefully, this will all work out. Somehow.

[russellsppttemplates]

I never knew anybody 'til I knew you (Lando Norris)

Your new job is allowing you to have new experiences, and your heart is not too mad about it either

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time in the books, I'm finally writing for Lando! This is my first long piece and I hope I did well enough!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: curse words, mentions alcohol consumption

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"I'm just saying, it's closer that way. We can go and get the packages ourselves and sort out any issues with them straight away", Lando reasoned, opening his text message app so he could continue what he wanted to do. "Okay, fine by me. He's got a point, Y/N", Max raised his hands in surrender, looking at you for your opinion.

Working for Quadrant hadn't been a goal you had set out to accomplish in the strict sense of it. You didn't see yourself working for a massive company where people were stuffed in offices where the only way they could know their colleagues' names was when they had online meetings that took far too long and discussed the baseline of the issues. So, when you saw the job offer for someone in the Graphic Design area of work, you looked up the company name and saw their work, fascinated with how the guys had grown this business from streaming online gaming. Later, as you progressed in the recruitment process, you came to learn that Lando and Max also had a more public presence than you had initially figured out, despite all of your friends' insistence that "you can't be that clueless, Y/N, how did you not know that Quadrant was Lando Norris'? I thought you applied because of that", they would say as you shrugged your shoulders, "in this economy, do you think I am that picky about a job? I have my preferences, sure, but I know what I'm worth and I saw the offer was actually quite okay!", you defended yourself.

You ended up getting the spot and, so far, you couldn't complain. Most of the time you worked with Callum, Max and Tara, since your work overlapped with theirs, and every now and again, like right now, Lando would also meet up with you.

"Are you sure it's fine if I go? Your parents know Max, but they haven't met me before. Are you sure they won't find it weird?", you spoke directly to Lando, thinking that his idea, as lovely and kind as it was, didn't account for the facts you were stating.

"Max is coming because he's from the team, and you're from the team, too, so you're coming with us as well", Lando said simply, not seeing the problem.

"But he's been your friend for so long now, I'm a Quadrant Team member", you attempted again, "they don't have to provide for and give a roof to a stranger, I'll find an hotel to spend the night", you offered, wanting to be clear about it.

"You're part of the team, too! Don't worry about that, okay?", Lando said, "besides, mum loves having a full house, she's definitely the host of the family", he smiled, checking the item on his list nd carrying on the meeting.

"When we're there, we'll be able to get our hands on the embroidered Originals collection", Max began, "hopefully they're perfect and we can start working on the website", he gestured as you turned your laptop so they both could see, "this is the concept I've come up with, since this isn't as flashy or as colourful as past collections", you showed them the mood board, looking for disapproval signs but being met with looks of surprise instead, "I know it's not usually what you go for, so I also have another idea here, if you just let m-", you were about to change when Lando slapped your hand away from the mouse and holding it in his, "I really like this one, especially these posts here, I think the ideas are great!", he noted as he set your hand down on the table, "okay, then I can keep working on this", you said, closing the other tab, "do you have something better than this?", Max asked, "seems as good to me!", he offered.

"This is just a draft, I'll invest more time in this and I'll have it ready for the end of the week. That way we can have it ready when the clothes arrive. I'll text Tara to ler her know", you smiled, grabbing your phone as the boys flickered through the ideas, pointing out the different details they liked and wanted to keep.

.

"I'm way too young for my life to be just this, so please drive safely, Max", you said, buckling your seatbelt and exaggerating your hold on the door handle, "if you weren't such a crucial part of this team, I'd make you reconsider your jokes", he teased back, reversing out of the parking space and initiating the trip.

Lando was already at his parents' house since they had a family gathering the day before, so you and Max were driving up to meet him, "they're really nice people, really chilled as well", Max began, "Adam and Cisca, that is. I can hear you thinking and I'm assuming that is what's going on in your head", he stated.

"I don't want to step on anyone's toes, and I don't want to embarrass anyone or myself even. Can you imagine Lando's parents finding out their son's company has questionable employees? They'll mark me off as some sort of strategy fool or think that I want to take this company down, and I don't!", you uttered out, sharing more than you meant to.

Impostor's Syndrome was a bitch, and it often showed up the moment things got progressively harder, and while you knew you were able to deal with it, the little voice still nagged you.

"Y/N, you're one of the most valuable people we have on the team, and I don't say that lightly. This is Lando's baby, and yes, he's the face of it and that counts for most of it, but the work behind it is just as important and with the numbers we're having, it all comes down to you. Since you joined us the designing aspect of it, - obviously, you wouldn't be the one responsible for accounting, duh -, the compliments have been non stop, it has improved the interactions, too!", he said honestly, "you have nothing to worry about, truly", he comforted, "it's this exit here", he mumbled, checking the GPS and turning on the blinker, slowing down the car as they entered the city.

You didn't have to wait long before he pulled up to a big house, the gravel sound quieting down until it came to a halt when Max stopped the car, "Lando said he'd meet us at the door, I really don't fancy being mistaken by a burglar", he joked, getting out of the car as you did the same, stretching your legs and taking in the sight.

"Max, Y/N! Did you have a good trip?", Lando made himself be heard and seen, walking up to you and grabbing the bags his friend was taking out of the car boot, "I'll take these", he offered, picking up your luggage as you pulled on your backpack, "thanks", you smiled, following him as he led the way into his parents' house.

"My parents are in the kitchen", the Formula One driver said, ushering you to the roomy space after he and Max dropped the bags by the stairs, "Max, dear! We haven't seen you in so long, how are you?", a beautiful woman said. Her hair was brown and her skin was tanned as she hugged Max and Lando, "this is Y/N, she is our graphic designer", he presented you, the older man hugging you and his wife doing the same, "I'm Adam, it's so nice to finally meet you", he smiled warmly, "likewise", you smiled back.

"You can call me Cisca, darling. We've heard so much about you, it's nice to finally put a face to the name", she winked at you as you didn't miss Lando elbowing his mother as he closed his eyes, sighing at her, "thank you for having me over, I hope it's not too much trouble", you thanked again, feeling more at ease at their genuine welcoming greetings.

Lando quickly scrambled an answer, seemingly not wanting his parents to talk, "of course it's fine, no trouble here! Let's get your things upstairs so we can settle in and work!", he clapped his hands, walking to the corridor and up the stairs with Max as you excused yourself.

"This is your room, you have the bathroom on the next door", he pointed on the corridor after he placed your bag and backpack down in the small sofa, "Max is in the office, it's just across the hall and I'm at the end of the hall, if you need anything", Lando offered.

"Thanks, again. Do you guys want to begin now? I just need to put on some fluffy socks and I'm good to go", you said, "yes! Is the dining room okay with your parents? The table is big enough to layout everyhting", Max chirped in, whistling at your room as he looked around, "she got an upgrade, good move!", he tapped his friend's back.

After Lando cleared it with his parents, he was quick to remove the table runner and flower vase from the dining room table, extending it to its biggest size so you had all the space you needed, "you can sit here, Y/N, it's usually where the room heats up faster", he pointed out the radiator, pulling up the chair next to your and typing on his iPad.

"So this is the video idea? I like it, we just need to find some background music for it", Max asserted, grabbing his phone to check the time, "we should get going to pick up the order", he uttered.

"Do you need all of us to go?", you asked, saying the changes in your laptop as you did,

"You can pull your the backseats of your car down, can't you, Max? That way we can bring more boxes, and you and me go", Lando reasoned, looking over at you, "do you mind staying here while we go get them?", he asked, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable.

"I'll be fine, you go", you smiled, opening your notebook and writing down some notes.

"Oh, darling, you could've turned the lights on. Soon enough you'll be like me and need glasses", Cisca said as she stood on by the door, flickering the lights on as your eyes got used to the brightness, "I already wear them, or I should more often anyway", you blushed, suddenly getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar, grabbing your case from your backpack and putting them on.

When Lando and Max left, you decided to work on the website graphics, checking how the campaign would work with the current layout, that you lost track of time.

"May I see what you're working on?", she asked, "it's okay if I may not, I don't want to intrude", she smiled as you pulled up the chair next to you, "I don't know much about these things, but I always get quite fascinated with this part", she said, sitting down and looking at the screen.

Already driving back home, Lando and Max talked about the plans once they arrived, "and that way Y/N can also finish the social media stuff, and maybe you'll have more time to actually make a move on her", he teased.

Lando scoffed, "I'm not trying to make a move on her", he defended himself, "I'm glad to know, because if those moves were what you had, it wouldn't surprise it that it didn't go very far", Max yelped as his friend took the opportunity of the straight road ahead to hit his thigh, "so that's what you talk about? Here I am thinking about business and you're meddling in my love life?".

"I never said it was love life, but since you've admitted it, it's saving me time. So, what are you planning? I could help since this seems to be stalled", Max tried again, holding his hands in protection of his body in case Lando hit him again.

"I wouldn't know where to begin, I mean, it will make things awkward if this goes south, right? I'd never be able to look at her again, much less work with her", Lando admitted, "She's very kept to herself as well, I highly doubt that she'll want to be involved with me in that way. Whoever I date or interact with has to deal with enormous amount of public eye and I wouldn't spring that up on her", Lando mumbled, taking the road exit on his left.

"So you've given this some thought, too. Here we are thinking you're coming to the meetings to help and now you're just blushing when we talk about Y/N", Max joked back as Lando shook his head.

"We're back!", Lando announced, walking inside the dining room while pushing the boxes with Max, "don't worry, mum, we're not scratching the floors", he said, sweetly kissing the side of her head, "are you planning to work for us?", he noticed she was sitting next to you, notebooks of the projects open and sheets and fabrics all over the table in front of you.

"Y/N was kindly showing me the project you're working on, for the launch, and it looks really nice!", she complimented, placing a hand on your shoulder and the other on your arm, "she's been showing me everything, I've probably stolen some valuable time from you, darling, I'm sorry", she slumped her shoulders slightly, "not at all, it's all under way, don't worry", you smiled, easing her worries, "I'll leave you guys to it, how about I make some tea?", she suggest as the three of you nodded.

"We have the boxes here, they're sorted by colours", Lando opened the first box, "these are only for the Originals collection, right?", you checked over, peaking at the blue hoodie he pulled out.

"The sizing is right, right?", Max wondered as Lando stretched it out, "Y/N, can you try these, please? We need to check if the model is good for guys and girls".

Getting up from your spot, you grabbed the vibrant blue piece, feeling its soft texture against your fingertips, "I have wider hips that average, I'm not sure I'm the greatest test model for that", you shrugged your shoulders, "keep that in mind". Taking off your sweater so your torso was covered in a strappy top, you pulled the new garment on, adjusting the strings around the neck so you could pull it all the way down, "Oh, it's so soft", you noticed, "and warm, too. And feels quite good actually, it's not too tight", fumbling with the ribbed material on the bottom as you checked yourself out on the windows now that it was dark outside.

Lando gulped as you did so. Oh, had Lando noticed your hips. To anyone else, it would be another feature of your body, but he was enamoured by them. Your body's curvy outline enticed him and he would be lying if he said that it wasn't the first thing he noticed at first glance when you arrived for you last interview, especially with the tapered pants you had been wearing.

"Looks nice. What do you think, mate?", Max turned to Lando, hoping to get an answer but finding him looking at you, "is there something wrong? I told you I'm not the best mo-".

"It's gorgeous, looks gorgeous", he breathed out just as his mother walked inside carrying a tray with tea and some biscuits, "Here's the tea, guys", she said, setting it on the table, "wow, that's a very nice piece!", she complimented.

"It is, isn't it, Cisca?", Max said, covering up her son as he kept looking at you as you tested the front pocket, not noticing his gaze on you.

"You also have a very beautiful model, you can't ignore that factor in the equation", she complimented you while you grabbed a mug, taking a sip of the warm liquid and hoping it hid your pink cheeks, "thank you", you whispered.

While Lando helped his father with dinner, Max convinced his mother to show you both family albums, and once you had the delicious food they prepared, you excused yourself so you could use the shower, wanting to wash the day of travelling away. Max and Cisca stayed in the living room while Lando helped his father prepare dessert, checking on the apple crumble in the oven so it could get golden brown and not burnt, "so, any life updates recently?", the older man asked.

Lando wasn't around as much as they both would've liked, so often times his visits also came along with news and updates, "not much, racing has been good, it's nice to have a break now, even if it's just two weeks", he offered, looking at the oven.

"And nothing else? I mean, no one special? Your mother is usually the blunt one, but I'm going to try it myself: Y/N is just a Quadrant Team Member?", Adam questioned, noticing his son's cheeks become redder.

"Is it that noticeable? I just hope she doesn't see it as much as you do", Lando groaned, rubbing his cheeks, "maybe you should hope she notices, you know? Maybe she'll admit she likes you, too. You never know", Adam patted his son's back, grabbing the gloves so he could take the tray out of the oven, "she seems like a really nice girl, kind, good work ethic, intelligent, and she's beautiful", he finished as his son sighed, grabbing the vanilla ice cream from the freezer, "she's all of that and so much more".

.

"Kygo is doing a set tonight", you heard Max say as you walked inside the living room, taking the spot on the sofa next to Lando since his mother had taken your previous spot when you went to use the bathroom, "I've been meaning to ask you guys if you wanted to go, actually. He texted me saying to tell him if we were planning on going", Lando stated.

"Go and enjoy being young, life is not all about work if you can't enjoy yourself", Cisca shared, "dad and I won't complain if you make noise when you get back", she winked.

"Would you like to go, Y/N? You can say no, that's fine, too", Lando turned to you. He knew Max would be down on a heartbeat, but he didn't want you to feel pressured to do something you didn't want to because you were at his parents' place as a guest.

"I'm good, I like his music, too. I've been wanting to see him live for a bit, actually", you smiled, thinking about how lucky you were to be able to have these experiences because of your job and friends.

Later that night, you're getting ready in your room, sitting on the carpeted floor and applying your make-up for the occasion. The dressier outfit you had brought with you consisted of a burnt red top and some pants as it had become the outfit you had felt the most comfortable and confident in to go out. The top complimented your chest and your midsection as your pants looked really good around your hips and butt, your legs elongated by the small heeled shoes you had spent years looking for. They were comfortable, pretty and functional, ticking all the boxes for what you needed for tonight.

"Y/N, can I come in?", your heard Lando knock on the door, welcoming himself when you said he could, "we are leaving in about ten minutes, if that's okay", he said, taking a good look at you as you fiddled with your earring, "yes, fine by me", you smiled looking back in the mirror propped on the bedside table and finally clasping it, looking back at him.

You took his breath away. It was as simple as that. Your hair had your natural curls he loved so much, your makeup complimented your naturally soft beautiful features and your outfit made you look incredible.

"You guys ready?", Max patted the door, propping himself on it as you grabbed your shoes, "I'll put them on downstairs", you said, carrying them in your right hand as you had your small purse on the left.

While you did the small, dainty tie on your shoes, Lando's eyes went straight for your chest, the slightly bent down position granting him an agonisingly teasing angle as he tried his best to look away, "you might want to be less obvious, you don't need to creep her out to get her to be yours", Max whispered in Lando's ear.

As soon as you arrived, Lando and Max walked with you to the VIP area, asking you what you wanted to drink before they went up to get it.

Lando looked great on his white shirt, the light coloured shirt looking great against his tanned skin as the relaxed fit complimented his back, prompting you to make sure you weren't drooling in public. You worked for his company, it would never be a good idea to get romantically involved with him, no matter how many times your heart leaped.

"A very weak Gin and Tonic for you, as requested", Max said as he pushed the cup towards you, carrying nother drink for himself, Lando sitting next to you on the booth and empty handed, "you're not drinking?", you asked, "I'm driving us all home today, I'm want to do it safely", he stated, tapping his hands on the table when he saw Kygo, signalling him to approach you.

"Hey Lando, Max", he smiled, "I'm Y/N, I work for Quadrant", you smiled, greeting him with a half hug as he introduced himself too, "my set is in a few minutes, you got here just in time. If you want to see it up close, Y/N, let me know and I'll make it happen", he winked at you.

The wink was not missed by Lando or Max. While Max wanted to laugh at his friend's jealous expression, threatening to send the norwegian DJ to a place that was less than nice and sunny, Lando couldn't believe his eyes. Yes, it was only fair that others, too, saw your beauty and noticed you, but to put themselves out like that, that was a different story. You didn't seem to bothered by all of it, sipping on your drink as you spoke to Max, pointing out different people you remember from Silverstone earlier that year.

"Kygo's starting, I want to dance!", you said, getting up and gesturing for the boys to join you. While you were used to having a lot less space to dance in, the welcomed freedom was appreciated as you playfully placed your pointer finger on Max's head, making him do a little spin, "now, no need to be jealous, Lando, you can twirl, too!", you yelled over the music blasting from the speakers, doing the same and sinking your finger on Lando's curls.

"I'm going to get another drink, want anything?", Max asked, excusing himself when you shook your head, "you know you can drink, I'm the designated driver", Lando offered, "I know, thank you for that. I just don't want to drink more", you smiled, recognising the next song, feeling brave and pulling Lando by his hand so he could dance with you.

I never knew anybody 'til I knew you

I never knew anybody 'til I knew you

And I know when it rains, oh, it pours

And I know I was born to be yours

Lando twirled you would face him, chest flush against his as his colourful eyes looked into yours intensely, "I know this is very forward, and very unlike me to be fair, but I need to get it out", he gulped as he spoke loudly in your ear, looking for any sign of discomfort from you, "I really like you, like, a lot. And I would like to know if you feel the same. Because Max and my parents seem to think you do, but all I know they're just saying so that I shut up about how much I love you and how much it would mean to me", he spoke loudly against your ear as the song played.

You were struck by his confession, not expecting it to ever happen, much less like this and in these circumstances.

"If you consider this a hostile work environment, I didn't want that, but I had to be honest with you", he gulped, "just say you don't feel the same and I'll drop the subject, okay? I might have to pretend to go somewhere else so I can be away from you a bit until things are not awkward, but don't worry, I won't drink because I'm driving and-", Lando belted out before you interrupted him, moving your face closer to his neck this time and speaking into his ear, "It's not hostile if it's consensual, right?", you smiled, a glint in your eye as his own widened, chuckling as he sang the the words in your ear, taking the opportunity to kiss your cheek near your earlobe.

"Took you two fucking long enough!", Max yelled as he approached you, tapping Lando's back in congratulations, "you know what this means, Y/N? I won't have to listen to him mope about how he thinks he was made for you and you were made for him, and that the universe would have to be playing a very bad joke of you two didn't end up together!".

"What makes you think I'll stop that? I just got the girl of my dreams, now I'll have the confirmations of all I've said! You'll just hear how amazing all of it is!", Lando smiled, hugging you close to him and kissing the top of your head.

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: LORE, CHARACTERIZATION, AND THE ONE IN WHICH I RUIN A BUNCH OF PEOPLE'S FUN

As usual, this is far from all of the asks in my inbox but I'm trying to catch up 😩thank you everyone for your patience!

For the record, if your ask isn't being answered, that most likely means one of three things:

I am saving it as a possible art prompt.

I sincerely don't have a very interesting or good reply for it yet!

It's a question I have been asked multiple times/the answer is in my pinned post.

Glad you like them!!

As much as I don't limit what I draw to canonical events, vampirism is so antithetical to DU drow's character journey that I couldn't really envision it, to be honest, but who knows! Maybe I'll cook up some Ascended Astarion scenario someday that is kind of a role-reversal of the Bhaalist DU Drow AU I have going on in tandem to the story.

I'll be honest, this is one of the rare times where I'm really not sure which aspect of DU drow's weirdness this is in reference to. Do you know something I don't? 😅

His masochism is very... Classic, I guess? He's in it for the pain and for the emotional connection, and the process of being pierced wouldn't cut it whatsoever, it's too subtle. The body modifications he has are an incidental result of it, but they were never really the goal.

Also having stuff dangling off his face or body would just irritate him, he specifically only does rings because all other types of jewellery get in the way too much. Pre-tadpole Bhaalist drow obviously wore them by the ton, but only as a symbol of status and because he had a permanent new-money complex🤷 so yeah not a piercing-type of character at all, sorry!

He's smooth from the eyelashes-down and profoundly weirded out by body hair LOL

I don't personally think that whatever Astarion had for a home before would bear my resemblance to it after 200 years - having probably gone through several owners, remodeled, if not completely lost to the destruction of the end-game. I do HC that he used to visit it whenever he could as an enthralled spawn to read his mail, but he stopped after his father passed.

THANK YOU, I THINK? I can't say that isn't a passionate description at least!

I'm honestly surprised that this comes up as often as it does LOL but it's just an stylistic choice on my end!

The latter - for sure. He figured that them dying at each other's hands at the end was a given and took that assumption entirely for granted (and I'm sure daydreamed about it often while Gortash went on and on about political strategy during their dinner meetings.)

;))) way ahead of you and by "way ahead" I mean "eventually and whenever I can figure out when to do it alongside the other 30 ideas I am currently juggling" (but I really do want to make a little comic out of it!)

He used them! Not immediately, but he grew to trust the guardian after some initial suspicion and happily gobbled up those squirmy little things alongside Astarion. Because I made his character on a whim and without any planned backstory, I didn't really put any thought into his Guardian's appearance either, so she's just a human woman with a Joan of Arc look going on who's of no significance to him or his past.

But DU drow did trust her, again not immediately but eventually. It was honestly a big kick in the gut to him when the Emperor revealed himself and it definitely set their relationship up to fail from the get-go.

This is also why he didn't ascend to the next stage of Ilithid power, he just stomped the thing dead right on the spot LOL

LMAO I think Gortash is too proud to chase a tail he can't catch like that

He was probably very overwhelmed by the sudden realization that OH, THIS IS ALL HAPPENING BECAUSE OF ME which naturally didn't come across whatsoever to anyone present since he immediately bottled it up and tucked it away out of sight. However, as the story progressed and DU drow helped his friends get out of their respective pickles he was probably able to justify it to himself as it having been for the greater good - since it led to Astarion being freed from his master and Shadowheart to defying the Sharrans.

As for all of the rest of the ensued destruction and death that resulted from it? Well you can't make an omelette without cracking some eggs, or whatever is the wizard version of that saying. He has essentially turned the entire situation into a net-positive in his mind and sleeps great at night because of it.

[3hks]

3hks' Guide to Plot (2024)

Alright guys... Here's a big one! These are MY personal thoughts on how to create and write plot. As time continues, I'm positive that some of these things will change, which is why I included "(2024)" in the title! Let's start with some of the basics and definitions, shall we? Hint: you probably want to see the last tip!

~PLOT STRUCTURE~

For 99.9% of novels, they follow a similar--if not the same plot structure--so let's take a look at them chronologically!

>>> Exposition: The beginning of the story, the starting characters, settings, relationships, and ideas are established. This is meant to give the reader a basic sense of the story.

>>> Inciting Incident (initial conflict): This is what sparks the conflict. The characters themselves may not realize it, but this event ultimately changes the whole course of the plot! (This may not always be before the rising action.)

>>> Rising Action: The GOOD stuff starts here! More introductions, more development, more action! Tension builds as the story continues.

>>> Climax: The climax is NOT equivalent to the conflict. The climax is the most exciting or tensest part of the story. The protagonist often is forced into making a difficult decision, whether it be self-inflicted or by another character's hand.

>>> Falling Action: The climax has ended, and things are coming to an end! The falling action is always shorter than the rising action, because there isn't much to introduce, and the characters are simply rolling through the consequences (good or bad) of their previous actions.

>>> Resolution: This is the end of the story. Many people will tell you to tie all the knots together during this part, but it's ultimately up to you! However, there should be some sort of ending to provide closure, at the very least. The conflict should also be resolved (hence the name).

Let's look at the diagram itself! (I'm using Freytag's pyramid because it's well-known. Thank you Writer's Hive for the image!)

~CONFLICT~

Alright, let's talk about the types of conflict real quick!

Character v.s Character: This is your typical conflict, where there are two opposing characters struggling against each other.

Character v.s Self: This is a less common conflict that takes place within the character's mind. (Examples: Self-doubt, decision making, moral dilemma, etc.)

Character v.s Society: This is a conflict between a character (or even a small group of characters) struggling against a larger, typically oppressive society as a whole.

Character v.s. Nature: Just like in the name, this is a character against a force of nature: a tornado, storm, flood, etc.

Character v.s Supernatural: Simply put, this is just a character struggling against a supernatural force.

While knowing and being able to identify the different conflicts doesn't necessarily help you write, it's important to understand what your character is battling against in order to build the conflict.

~BUILDING THE ARCS~

If you watch a lot of shows or movies, you're probably familiar with the term "arc," which is just another way to say plot or subplot, depending on your story.

When writing plot, you want to have a MAIN or LEADING ARC. This is your character's goal that's usually established at the exposition. However, there is usually more to add so your storyline isn't too one-dimensional. These are more arcs or subplots that simply branch out. In a way, it's meant to slow the plot down and add more content while still advancing the story.

So yeah, subplots are able to assist in slowing down the story but they need to help advance the main arc.

This can be done by simply connecting the two--making sure that both of them are at least relevant to one another.

Here's an example! Let's look at HunterxHunter (Yoshihiro Togashi)

The main character, Gon, has a goal to locate his father. This is what HunterxHunter is mainly about. The leading arc, main plot, etc.

It's incredibly simple and straightforward, but it's not that easy.

Along the way, you see different problems arise, creating more subtle and smaller arcs. For instance, there's the Yorknew arc, the Greed Island arc, and the Chimera Ant arc.

The focus of those arcs aren't necessarily for Gon to find his dad. As a matter of fact, his objective is kind of an afterthought in the presence of these subplots. Still, they are connected to Gon's objective and push the story!

See how modest the main plot is? It does not have to be the world's most complex storyline.

Your protagonist's goal is the leading arc, and things just get in the way of it.

Keep this in mind and it may actually help you design your plot events!

~KEY POINTS~

Character introductions: By the end of the rising action, you want most of your characters to have been introduced. This may vary for some certain scenarios, but logically, most characters are going to be involved in the climax, so they must be introduced beforehand.

Environment: Your character will typically start out with a set view of their society, world, and people. Through your developing plot, there should be some changes in their view. What they believe is true could prove to be false.

Triumphs and losses: Sometimes, your character needs to win, and sometimes, they need to lose. This adds a sense of naturalness (not everyone gets what they want) and aids your character development. There are times when a loss is actually the foundation of the exposition! (Wink-wink, nudge-nudge)

~WHERE TO PLACE "THAT SCENE"~

Here's a pretty big one! As writers, we often have just "that scene" pictured out in our minds--it's absolute perfection and a REAL piece of art.

But where are we going to insert it?

If it's not too important, there are three places I suggest! 1. The exposition, 2. the rising action, 3. the falling action.

If your moment is able to introduce a relationship, character, or setting, the exposition is the way to go. If it can build on the three things I listed AND may have a part in the conflict and/or climax, then rising action it is! If it's somewhere in between and somewhere else, then try falling action!

And it can even be the inciting incident if begins the conflict!

Resolution is also a possibility, but because it's near the end, your scene may have less impact than you want. However, if you're still into that idea, then I suggest placing it at the very end! (You'll just need a lot of patience to get through your whole story just for that part, though lol.)

The most important part is to understand what the moment can contribute to the plot, because then you'll have a much better idea of whether you should place it closer to the climax or further away!

Did this help? Let me know!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[drdemonprince]

How to feel safe socially?

I'm autistic and have social anxiety. I feel super confident in my work life, but not so much in my personal life. I generally feel like I'm dying when I'm in social settings where I have to interact with people I don't know. It's so hard to initiate conversations and I avoid most interactions that aren't completely superficial (like talking to cashiers) or with my very close friends. I used to cope with this with weed/alcohol but I'm sober now and I have no clue how to feel better when I'm around people.

As you have probably noticed, trying to make oneself not anxious really backfires. The behavior will have to lead before the emotions here, you can't really change how you feel with effort.

So put "not being socially anxious" or "feeling safe socially" on the shelf. The new goals to pursue are things like "talking to one new person at this party" or "learning something interesting at this conference" or "trying something I have always wanted to try but have felt I can't because I am Too Anxious".

Focus less on yourself and how you are acting and feeling, and more on the external situation you have entered. What interests you? What do you want to look at? What's happening that you want to get closer to and watch? How are other people interacting? Who seems anxious, too? Who is fighting or experiencing interpersonal tension? Is there any interesting drama happening? Whom here catches your eye? Who would you like to learn more from, or about?

Let your curiosity guide you. Focus as best you can on experiencing reality, not on being a person who is not anxious. You will still feel anxious. That's okay. You might always feel anxious. You can still have an interesting life and try new things and learn from other people.

[howtofightwrite]

I love picking at plot holes like scabs so i want my fight scenes to be as realistic as possible. However. There’s a creature in my head that says a buster sword is SICK AS HELL. What modifications would it need to be even remotely wieldable while still keeping its central appeal (huge sword big blade cool and sexy) intact?

You’ve made a mistake. You mistook suspension of disbelief for realism. This is a common problem that gets in the way of a lot of fantasy and sci-fi authors. So, don’t worry. It isn’t just you. However, realism vs believability is where your hangup is. Stories don’t need to be realistic to be believable.

The quick and dirty (and possibly unhelpful) answer is to create a world that justifies your buster sword, not a buster sword that’s trying to justify itself in a world that doesn’t want it. You step back from the sword itself and away from a world where reality dictates that it’s too heavy, too clumsy, too slow, and ask yourself: “in what type of world does this thing make sense?” And there’s about a billion different ways to create that.

The hangup with the realistic argument is that all of fiction is a lie. Good or bad, that’s what stories are. They can be very compelling, addicting, manipulative, feel incredibly good, and still be fake. The goal of a creator isn’t just to create stories that are believable, but for your audience to want to believe in them. Storytelling is always a joint venture between you and your reader. You are the salesperson asking your audience to come along for the ride. To keep their attention, you’ve got to spin up a good yarn. Build trust. The world has to feel right, but it doesn’t have to be right. Reasonable, not right. The goal is to take a cool idea and work backwards to how your society got here so that when seen from an outside perspective, the choice ultimately looks like a reasonable conclusion given the surrounding context. One of the better ways to build your reasonable conclusions is by studying the history of technological invention from the beginning to the midpoint rather than starting with the end point—the results.

History is full of weird, wacky, wild attempts and failures at creation. You’re not the first person to look at a human sized sword and wonder if it could, in fact, hit good. Or, really, better than swords that currently exist. Or, fulfill a battlefield role the sword was currently not occupying. Or, as we like to say, have real battlefield applications. The Claymore, the Zwhihander, the Zhanmadao are all real weapons that saw real, if not necessarily extensive, use. Like all weapons, they were specialized tools meant for particular battlefield uses. In this case, mainly as anti-cavalry support.

Ask yourself, why? Not just, why would I want it? Ask, why would I use it?

What actual purpose does the big cool blade serve beyond looking big and cool? What function does it fill on the battlefield? Why use the big cool blade instead of other weapons? What does it do better? What are some offsets which might account for the massive size? Technology? Superhuman enhancements, mystical or otherwise? Gravitic fields? Magic? Why is the big cool blade better suited to ensuring a character’s survival? What advantages does it provide? What is its practical value to warriors within your setting?

The initial defensive reaction is that we don’t need a reason because we have the Rule of Cool. That could be the reason, but I challenge you to go deeper. Go deeper than, “this was the weapon my character was trained to use.” The followup question is: why were they trained to use it?

In the real world, we can answer these questions both from a personal and from a larger social perspective. We may not be able to answer whether we’d use a gun, but we understand why humanity developed guns, why we use guns, and the purpose they serve both for personal protection and in their military applications. The answers don’t necessarily need to be good or smart. What matters is that an answer exists to feed your audience. When your reader starts struggling to believe, they begin to ask questions, they pick at the fabric of the narrative trying to figure out why their mind has rejected the story they were previously enjoying. What we, the writer, want to create is a chain of logic underpinning the narrative and its world. This way, when questions are asked, a reasonable answer is ready and waiting. While we won’t win over everyone, trust that your audience wants to believe. Trust that they’re smart enough to figure it out without being spoon fed. That way, you won’t fall into the trap of infodumping.

Worldbuilding always involves a lot more happening under the surface than ever makes it onto the page. Your characters will be the ones to demonstrate and act on the internal logic that’s been created for them without needing a billion questions to lead us from Point A to Point B.

If we look at human history in a wide view, we find that weapons are a fairly steady march forward that matches a civilization’s technological growth. We keep what works and discards what doesn’t. The crossbow replaced the bow as the main form of artillery in martial combat, but we still kept the bow. The bow still had practical applications. Guns eventually replaced the crossbow just like they replaced the sword, but it actually took a very long time. We had functional firearms in the Middle Ages.

Ease of Use

Ease of Training

Lethality

From a military standpoint, these are the three most important aspects for widespread adoption of any weapon. Easy to use. Easy to train. Lethal. The longer it takes to train a soldier on a weapon the more time your army is losing out on using that soldier and the more effective the weapon needs to be in order to justify its expense. Why give your soldier a big cool sword if they’ll never get close enough to reach the forward line to make the assault? Why have them use the big cool sword if operating the laser cannon is more efficient, effective, and keeps them alive longer? In the coldness of battlefield calculus, it’s often better to have cheap, efficient units rather than more expensive ones that might be more lethal but take longer to produce. No matter how good they are, you’re eventually going to lose them. Therefore, easy replaceability becomes a factor.

If you can answer those questions (and the myriad of other similar ones) you won’t just have a weapon, you’ll have a world. You’ll have more than a justification, you’ll have battlefield strategy, tactics, and a greater understanding of how the average layman characters in your setting beyond your main character approach warfare and possibly a technological history. You might even have several functional armies.

Ultimately, this is a game of value versus cost. Most settings that use big cool swords sacrifice ease of use and ease of training to amp up lethality. The weapon having a specialized function or only being usable by a specialized unit helps if that unit’s battlefield effectiveness is justified. Or, you could just have a weird technological outlier where its effectiveness doesn’t quite justify its cost even if the individual warrior is effective. A good example of this is in shounen anime where one character has a specialty that no one else has, a really cool, effective weapon that never appears anywhere else, because the length of training, high skill floor, and finicky nature of its use make it difficult to justify widespread adoption.

The danger is assuming there’s a right answer. There isn’t one. The value in learning the rules of real world violence is so you can break them. This way you can tell the difference between the vital rules necessary for suspending disbelief and don’t accidentally break the ones you needed to keep your audience invested.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[luckieduckiie]

im fried | d. dennis

you and your friend are in the club and you spot future… or you think you do.

the lights were dim, a little too dim some may say, but it didnt help that you were drunk either. too drunk, and well maybe a little high too.

“bro, is that future ?” you say to your friend, pulling her close, your eyes wide as you point to the dreaded man standing in the vip section.

“bitch!” she exclaims jumping up and down. “it is oh my god! OH MY GOD!”

a grin finds its way to your face as you look at her.

“im the shit bitch i know.” you say smugly. “ im going to go ask for a picture come one.”

you feel her hand grab your belt loop as she follows you throughout the sea of people, a chorus of excuse me’s and sorry’s stream from your lips as you finally get to the edge of his section. as you are looking up at him you notice the diamond smile he had on his face.

“sir, sir excuse me” you say, well yell. the noise was deafening.

he glances down at you and the smile widens.

“yes gorgeous.” he says, a slight southern drawl playing on his tongue and from the sound of that you should have know that it was indeed not mr hendrix as you had initially anticipated.

“ i love your music!” you say exclaim happily.

“ im sorry, what you say?” he questions leaning down over the edge of the wall that was between you two.

“ i love your music,” you say getting closer to his ear giggling. “ cause i am fried yes fried and very fucked up” you recite the lyrics back to him.

a deep laugh errupts from his as he stands back up causing you to look at him quizzically.

“so, can i get a picture?” you yell, confusion setting in.

“ yeah, yall come on up here sweetheart.” he says the word sending shivers down your spine. he motions for you and your friend to come.

he walks over and meets you at the entrance signaling the man guarding it that you could enter.

you immediately go in for a hug without thinking and your friend who is prepared snaps the picture.

“ oh ok, damn.” he laughs wrapping his arms around you large hands gripping your waist. you cant help but bask in his scent. it exudes sex and masculinity. it smells exactly as he look.

“you smell so good.” you say looking up at him head still resting on his chest.

the look he gives you says it all. “ thank ya.” he says smiling at you then licks his lips.

“ yo friend want one too mama?” he asks lowly eyes still locked on yours.

“oh, shit yeah.” you say pulling away, sighing at the loss of his body against yours.

“here girl.” you say reaching for the phone.

she goes over and just wraps her arm around his waist and his over her shoulder, the other going up into a peace sign. a sense of satisfaction arises in you as you see he didnt embrace her just like he did you but leaves as soon as you see the big smile on her face. she was happy for you and you the same for her, besides he wasnt your man anyway.

you click a few pictures and then she pulls away and thanks him coming back over to you and grabbing the phone to look at them

“yall wanna chill with us for a lil bit?” he asks motioning to the group of guys surrounding him.

“yeah.” you reply without even realizing, looking at your friend and she nods too.

“type shit” he says. you both follow him to the couch and as he sits he leaves room for you both on the side of him.

“so where yall from?” he asks looking between the both of you.

“ texas, but we go to school out here!” your friend answers smiling.

“type shit, what yall studying?” he asks curiosity genuine.

“im working on my masters in business and she is currently working on a phd in biology.” she says motioning to you. “she really smart as hell. tell him bout your research” she says smirking at you and you smile in response, her way of saying he yours girl.

his eyes widens as he look at you and you begin to explain, “ uh yeah my thesis is on the rate of duplication in cancer cells in african americans.”

“oh shit, you gone be a doctor.” he asks.

“thats the goal but i dont know shit is crazy.” you say staring at him. as you look you start to realize he is lacking nose piercings and the signature blond on his dreads.

your eyes widen as you come to the realization. “oh my God youre not future.” you exclaim standing up.

a loud laugh erupts from him and your friend stand up as well when she realizes this and she moves to your side.

“thats who you thought i was?” he is able to say between his laugh.

embarrassment burns through your body at this and you begin slightly angry.

“obviously!” you say irritation heavy in your voice.

as he notices this his laugh stops and smile drops.

“yo calm down.” he says reaching a hand out to grab yours and you pull away disgust on your face.

“dont fucking touch me.” you say grabbing your friend. “come on lets go.” you say grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the exit.

“what the fuck.” you hear him say behind you. you dont care, not only did he laugh at you, he lied to you. or at least in your eyes he did and that alone was enough to piss you off and ruin your night- your high too.

yall im really rusty at writing but i got the idea for this when i was high & i think i wanna do another part or two ! let me know what yall think cause there aint enough on here about dada