#literally pulled me out of my 3 year hiatus

[spiderstape]

Gay people Cuddling

[starsstuddedsky]

Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much. 

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt. 

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you. 

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily. 

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway. 

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say. 

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him. 

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything. 

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted. 

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings. 

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him. 

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.” 

“And why am I here?” 

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly. 

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?” 

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you. 

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.” 

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours. 

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one. 

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.” 

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road. 

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.” 

“What is wrong with my taste in music?” 

“No comment.” 

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine. 

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.” 

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe. 

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way. 

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up. 

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap. 

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway. 

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy. 

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child. 

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make. 

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door. 

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child. 

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child. 

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.” 

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?” 

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts. 

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go. 

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time. 

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten. 

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.” 

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you. 

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper. 

“I have self-control.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are. 

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile. 

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying? 

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second. 

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.” 

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck. 

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?” 

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles. 

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness. 

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head. 

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible. 

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.” 

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again. 

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst. 

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most. 

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?” 

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?” 

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?” 

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart. 

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.” 

“Of what?” 

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.” 

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?” 

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.” 

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes. 

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.” 

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move? 

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know. 

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.” 

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?” 

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say. 

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?” 

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.” 

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory. 

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real. 

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing. 

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet. 

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again. 

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it. 

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile. 

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?” 

“Always.” 

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it. 

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say. 

His laughter bounces you. “No way.” 

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.” 

“I'll stay strong.” 

“What if I want a kitten?” 

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.” 

“Sucker.” 

“Only for you.” 

thank you for reading <3

[dreamauri]

┇𝗗𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 - P1 ┇ ─ ୨୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ─ ┇it's time you got back in the battle ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst/fluff )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 2, 445 ) ╰ 🫧  :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

☆★ changed up things a little bit cause i found my muse, took me a while to write this chapter as well. I hope it was worth the wait. I don't plan on rushing this series, but it will be a long one, no more than 15/20 (??) chapters? ps. the translation is not literal, it's context. ty ━━━━

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests )

RACE DAY Sunday April 30 2023 — Baku City Circuit, Azerbaijan

Needles to say, you felt like shit. It wasn't even the fourth race into the season and you had taken a seat that didn't belong to you. And there was nothing you hated more than that.

You watched as people rushed around the garage finalising their tasks. "You okay, kid?" Looking up, you met gazes with your new engineer. "Never been better." You lied, giving him a small smile. "Good to hear." He patted the top of your helmet gently. "I'll be in your ear the whole time, champ." "Thank you, Arcadio." "Call me JJ, kid." You chuckled, nodding. "Thank you, JJ."

"And here we are at the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, ladies and gentlemen! A race filled with anticipation, surprises, and the return of an incredible talent. Keep your eyes on car number 17, the Red Bull driven by the remarkable Seventeen. Her first race since 2016 was it? She is finally on the grid, with a full seat as well."

"That's right, Martin. After a long hiatus, Seventeen is back on the grid, and the excitement is electric. You can hear the fans roaring! You can tell that the people are exited for her to get back on the track, and I can't deny it, I am as well." "Disappointingly enough, she will be starting at the back of the grid for missing qualifying on Friday."

"Charles Leclerc is in pole position, with Max Verstappen alongside him in P2. But don't count out Seventeen just yet. She's eager to prove herself once again today."

Lap 1 :: "The lights are about to go out, and the race is underway! Leclerc gets a clean start, holding onto the lead, while Verstappen is hot on his heels. But Seventeen is on the move, slicing through the pack with remarkable determination."

"Seventeen is showing no signs of rustiness, Martin. Lap after lap, she's gaining positions, overtaking rivals left and right. It's a mesmerising display of skill and determination."

Lap 10 :: "Seventeen pulls off a breath-taking move on Turn 8, overtaking Lando Norris' McLaren with sheer precision. She's making her presence known, and the crowd is thrilled to witness her comeback."

"That is P9, Seventeen. P9." "God blessed me with a functioning radio." You joked, chuckling, pulling a laugh from the Filipino on the pit wall. "Thanks' Jj." You sighed happily catching up to the Mercedes ahead.

Lap 25 :: "Seventeen's drive is filled with passion and resilience, Martin. The years away from the car seem to have only fuelled her determination. And she executes a daring overtake on the outside of Turn 3! leaving Carlos Sainz behind!"

Lap 47 :: "Max, we need you to let Seventeen through, please. She's on pace. Let seventeen through." "An incredible act of teamwork from Red Bull! Verstappen gracefully yields, allowing Seventeen to continue her charge towards the front."

"And now, Seventeen is on a mission. Lap after lap, she closes the gap to the leaders, never faltering in her pursuit of glory."

Final Lap :: "The tension is mounting, Martin. Seventeen is determined to make her mark. She's chasing down Charles Leclerc, putting immense pressure on the leader.

"And there it is! In a sensational move, Seventeen overtook Leclerc on the final corner of the final lap! The crowd erupts in applause as Seventeen crosses the finish line, taking an unbelievable victory in her first race back!"

"What a comeback story!" "Seventeen has made a resounding statement with this incredible victory. A truly unforgettable moment in Formula 1 history."

"Heh." You chuckle to yourself as you park in front of the P1 board. Once you lifted yourself out of the car, standing on the nose, you bent backwards holding onto the halo as you did a handstand. "Eat shit." You whispered, bending both knees and arching your back, posing for the camera.

Once you put your feet back on the asphalt you walked to your team who was quick to pull you in the sea of hugs and praise. "Thank you, guys. I would've never been able to do this without you today." You told them, hugging your new and favourite engineer.

"It's good to have you back." You heard Hamilton greet you, dabbing you up. "Thanks, Lewis." You nodded, flicking up your visor so he could at least see the smile that reached your eyes. "Ya saba3tashar!" [hey seventeen] snapping your head to the source of voice, you're met with the smug smile of a certain eight year old.

"Ya benti howa enti ay 7ega tesarakhiha we khalas?" [My God, are you just going to scream at any chance you get?] Her father who was carrying her on his hip scolded, covering his pulsing ear. "3erefto tigo 3ayni." [So you could make it after all] You moved over to them, sharing a tight hug.

"Tab3an. Mesh hafawet awel seba2 lebatalet El 3alem." [of course, we wouldn't miss the world champions first race] Marawan kissed your cheek patting the side of your helmet. "Mestaniyeenek." [Theyre waiting for you] He gestured to the waiting interviewer. "Mashi mashi." [ok ok]

"Salam!" [take care] The girl waved, making you turn back and blow her a kiss.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Plopping on the P1 chair, you slumped tiredly leaning your head back. The room felt tense. With Max Verstappen in P2 and Killian Kraus in P3 ( two drivers who managed to overtake Leclerc in the last second right after you did ).

"That was a good overtake on lap 5." Kraus pointed out, looking at the screen that showed the highlights. He was trying to break the ice, especially with your teammate looking at you with such a negative expression that could be described as hate or despise, regret, anger. "Which one?" You asked yawning, waving slightly to the camera who was filming the three of yoy.

"Turn seven." "On Gasly?" "Yeah." "Eh, I could've done better." You shrugged, standing up once Jj stopped by in the room. "There's always room to improve." You sighed as he handed you the face mask and your sunglasses. You stood in a corner facing the wall to hide your face as you took off your helmet and balaclava, replacing them with a black mask, the 1st place cap and the sunglasses.

"It's time for the podium guys." "Here we go." You muttered tiredly pulling the second half of your race suit up, putting your hands through the sleeves. "And in first place, racing for the first time in seven years and adding another win to her unending winning streak. Give it up for Seventeen!" You could hear the crowd screaming as you walked out on the stage waving to the masses as you stepped up on your highest pedestal, raising your hands up bowing down.

You took your cap off once the Austrian Anthem started playing, skipping the one which would've been yours. You could hear and see the red bull team below you singing and smiling, which only made you crack a smile. Putting the cap back on your head as you received your trophy, quickly raising it up for your little family to see.

Max received his next with a forced smile and Killian after with pursed lips. Cracking the bottle open, you ran forward to the edge, spraying Your team principal and engineer.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You are on a winning streak are you not?" "I am." You nodded, leaning back in the chair. Press conferences were always so boring. "How long has it been going?" "Oh wow . . . like forever? I don't think I've lost that many karting races. And I've never lost races in F3 and F2—" "You were lapping everyone." "Yes, I was." You nodded chuckling.

"Hopefully, the streak continues throughout the rest of the season. and maybe I can win all the races next year and set another record." You wiggled your eyebrows excitedly. "You guys did go back to school, I like these questions." You giggled making the whole room erupt in laughter minus the Dutch boy sitting by your side.

Once you walked out of the room you were dragged by your performance coach to the Redbull motorhome for an ice bath. "Can I go into the out now." You whined shivering in the inflatable tub, one had out giving pats and belly rubs to the clearly delighted Australian Shepard.

"You're so lucky, protected by that cute fur of yours." You cooed at him scratching under his ear. "Oh, I was starting to think you'd skip." You joked looking at the Dutch driver in swim trunks. Max only pursed his lips shrugging as he slipped in gently beside you.

"Fuck dit is koud." [fuck this is cold] He cursed under his breath, sinking into the water, watching you with the dog. "What's his name?" He asked breaking the silence after a few moments. "Aussie." You replied ruffling the doggo's head. "What? Who names their dog Aussie?" He looked at you confused and you could only blink. "I did." You furrowed your eyebrows. "Oh . . ." He replied quietly, sinking deeper into the tub till the cold water covered his nose.

First time having a conversation with his teammate, his biggest rival, his biggest ally ( and childhood crush ) and he killed it, literally. Stabbed it right in the face.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"She's scary." Lando shivered at the thought of your black helmet overtaking him. A certain group of drivers were clubbing, celebrating the race even though none of them won. And the said winner wasn't attending.

"I understand why some people call her a demon now. All she's missing is a tail and horns. I bet her eyes are red." Pierre grumbled sipping from his glass. "You're all sulking way too much." The unaffected Alex Albon commented. "Us? We're not even her teammates. Look at Max, he's dead." Charles pointed out at the Redbull driver that was practically unconscious from how much he was drinking. "If she really never loses, we're done, mate. Our only option is to wait till she retires."

Although Max was almost black out drunk, he still heard faint chatter from time to time. "only option is to wait till she retires." Max liked you as a driver, not a driver that was taking his wins away from him. 'Maybe we don't have to wait. We can force her to retire.' was the drunk though that passed through his brain. A thought that he should've left behind when he walked out of the club that night.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MEDIA DAY Thursday May 4 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

"Hello, my name is Max Verstappen." "And my name is Seventeen and we are . . . I forgot sorry. Some one was walking by with cotton candy." You chuckled nervously looking back at the camera.

"We're playing 20 questions, with the goal of getting to know each other more. And by the end, the team are going to ask us 5 questions each and we have to know the answers to that." Max explained as you rocked your chair slowly to face him. "Alright. Who goes first?"

You ended up doing rock paper scissors, with Max winning. "Who is your favourite f1 driver?" You grimace thinking. "Umm, uhh. I say this and I don't have to hide my face anymore." You laughed. "I'm going to go with Seb." You nodded.

"Your favourite race circuit?" "I'll have to go with spa. Yours?" "Um, does it have to be a current track? Mine doesn't exist yet." You chuckled laughing. Through the game you found yourself loosening up, fining yourself more comfortable with your teammate. Max wasn't though, putting on a smile and forcing a laugh every once in a while.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

RACE DAY Sunday May 7 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

Lap 48 :: "Now on the soft rubber, we are watching Seventeen gaining with every metre onto her teammate ahead, Max Verstappen, her rival for the championship. She will pull out of the slipstream. Seventeen is on the attack, defence is on for Verstappen. The bulls going wheel to wheel." "Verstappen goes on the outside line but there will be better traction for Seventeen who stands on the throttle. She'll get DRS again and will fight into turn one. Can Verstappen offer a defensive line on the inside?"

"He's got no other choice! The bulls are wheel to wheel! Around the outside, will it be the lead? Its close between the two! The crowds are roaring and Seventeen takes the lead of the Miami grand prix having started fifth on the grid and losing positions down to tenth after the spin out on lap 22. She's passed all of them."

"Thanks, Max." You said through the radio as you felt yourself heave.

Lap 52 :: "Do you think . . . We can put on some music?" You said once you turned on the radio. "Because my ears feel empty and I have a horrible singing voice. I mean, There's no one else for us to overtake, no?" You could hear Jj's laugh over the radio, hearing his smile. "We are 14 seconds ahead of Max. So I guess maybe? Let me look into it."

it only took a few minutes before you were listening to Michael Jackson, singing along. "Cause this is thrillerrr!" You hummed along, your radio popping up on the stadium's speakers. "And that is, Seventeen listening to music, comfortable in P1."

Final Lap :: "Outstanding performance for Seventeen. She comes out of the final corners— And for the first time ever! Seventeen wins the Miami grand prix with a masterclass of performance! From tenth of the grid, to first." "Another one-two for red bull! Fantastic performance!"

"Wahoo!" You cheered pulling the steering wheel out once the car was turned off in front of the P1 board. Getting up on the halo, you celebrate by doing one more handstand, doing a leaning forward front-split this time. Once you got down, you fell into the hugs from your team, happiness clearly written in your eyes. "Thank you guys for all your hard work. Thank you so much!" You hugged and shook hands, sadly being ignored by Jos Verstappen but you didn't care.

Being up on the top of the grid again felt exhilarating and adrenaline fuelling. "I love you all so much." You blew kisses as you retreated to the cool down room. Getting up on the podium again felt euphoric. Raising your trophy for your team to see, you got down on your knees pressing the trophy to your forehead before hugging it tightly.

[emetogirl]

BOY do I have a story for you guys!!! After a LONG hiatus I finally have some irl emeto content for y’all! So I started dating my girlfriend a short while ago and it is still very much a new relationship, but we’ve quickly settled into “lesbians who have been married for 30 years” vibes with each other. She is truly amazing and I adore her. And one super hot thing about her is she loves watching me eat🥵 so it was late and we were both hungry so we went to one of the few places that were open, which happened to be a place that mainly sells calzones (bread stuffed with meat and cheese, except I just got a 3 cheese one). So I order two gigantic calzones and I am DEVOURING THEM. Like, eating my little heart out. I start to feel full after 1 but in my head I go “nah, I can finish these.” Let me tell you- that was a fucking mistake. I am ravenously devouring my cheesy bread in a manner that is turning my girlfriend the fuck on and she is just watching me with horny glazed over eyes, and it’s only when I finish the last bite that I realize: I fucked up. My stomach feels stretched beyond it’s breaking point and I am downright uncomfortable. I ask my girlfriend if we can head home but don’t tell her why. She says, “sure,” and goes to pull the car around. As I’m waiting, I sneak a hand over my belly and it feels hard and swollen. I see my girlfriend’s car pull up and hop in. “I ate too much,” I finally admit, and she goes, “I know.” The drive home is only 5 minutes but I am literally squirming in discomfort the entire time. About 1 minute from home I gag for the first time and my girlfriend goes, “oh shit,” and rolls down the window. “I’m not gonna puke in your car,” I promise her. I can feel the car speed up to get me home. “You’re gonna puke, I can tell,” she says. Finally we arrive home and the second the car is parked I immediately throw open the door to gag outside the car. Nothing comes up. My girlfriend waits until I’m done dry heaving and then walks me to our front door where she fumbles with the key, trying to unlock the door as quickly as possible. My stomach can’t wait and I turn to gag over the railing that sits perpendicular to the door. I can feel her rubbing my back. Eventually she gets the key in and I RUN to the bathroom and immediately start heaving. They turn productive pretty quick and soon I’m burping up chunks of cheese and bread into the water. It’s coming up my throat painstakingly slowly and getting caught in the back of my mouth, and I’m having to work really hard to get everything up. After it’s over I lay down on the floor in front of the toilet, completely exhausted. Like for part 2!!!

[scribeofwinchesters]

Secrets and Lies: Chapter 11 - Rope

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 4,660

Summary: “You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming."

Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con

Previous chapters: 

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten

A/N: Definitely recommend catching up or re-reading before this chapter since we have some callbacks to chapter 1 here. Thank you all for showing me so much support after being gone for so long <3 This might be my personal favorite chapter yet :) Most of it's been written for years but had lots of rewrites and edits as I worked through it and came back to it again and again during my hiatus, so if there's anything that doesn't connect or track, please DM me so I can fix it! I've reread it like eight times, though, so I think we're good... I hope you all like it and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are very welcome <3 as always, link to AO3 if you prefer.

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa

You yanked hard on the door and sure enough, the door drug across the jamb and you had to give it a second hard pull to get it fully open. As soon as it was free Dean was right there, gun pointed ahead of him as he let his eyes adjust before quickly clearing the area to the left and the right. Just as planned you were directly behind him, gripping your gun but keeping it pointed safely toward the ground. 

The interior was completely dark except for rows and columns of sporadically blinking green and orange lights to the left. As Dean stepped in, you followed, remaining so close to him that you could literally feel your breath warming his neck. Dean should’ve known better than to exaggerate when telling you to do something that you didn’t want to do. He took another careful step inside and reached along the wall for a light switch. 

As he did, there was suddenly a soft tumble of footsteps and Dean deftly reached behind him to grip your arm and pull you along with him as he ducked to the right, pressing you safely between him and the wall. 

The shadowy form of a person was visible somewhere ahead of Dean, outlined by the blinking lights. It was wielding some kind of weapon that you couldn't make out in the darkness until it glinted in the light and you could see the flash of a long, sharp point. The figure darted into the darkness and from somewhere across the room you heard a deep, stifled scream. 

Dean gripped his gun with both hands and aimed it at each corner of the room, hoping to catch sight of some kind of movement. 

You shifted your handgun to one hand and silently pulled your silver blade from its holster and gripped it tightly. You scrapped it along the wall, using it’s extra length to find your mark. After a short moment it caught on the switch and the room was flooded with a dull, fluorescent haze; the bulbs flickered and buzzed faintly before steadying on. 

Momentarily blinded by the sudden light, you narrowed your eyes and squinted as they adjusted.

You peeked around Dean as you sheathed your blade. Your stomach dropped. 

There, in the middle of the room, was Sam. He was tied up in a chair, ropes tight around his wrists and ankles and mouth. He’d been stripped down to nothing but his boxers and socks and there was blood splattered on the ground beneath him. Sam had a black eye and a horrific mixture of blood and sweat dripped from his forehead. He had a handful of cuts and gashes across his chest. He caught sight of you and your eyes locked together. The marble pinged against your insides again as you saw Sam’s bloodshot eyes glisten with tears. Your heart caught in your throat and you could feel yourself forgetting to breathe. 

Sam glanced to his left, drawing your eyes away from him.

You froze. 

Standing in the dark corner, just a few steps away from Sam, was the last thing you expected to see...

It was...

you? 

Not current you... but clean, moisturized, fresh-faced, hair-brushed-and-styled-with-the-perfect-flounce-you-could-never-quite-achieve-despite-many-frustrating-hours-spent-fussing-over-it… you.

It was fully dressed in clothes that looked like something you’d wear if you had time to put thought into your outfits, and to top it off, she was wearing Sam’s wellworn green jacket and a blue flannel and something about that made your stomach churn. It held a long, jagged blade comfortably in it’s outstretched arm as it grinned and you pulled yourself back behind Dean as you tried to catch your breath. 

“ ‘Bout time you guys joined the party,” it said cheerfully and took a careful step toward Sam. It was bizarre hearing your voice come from another person… thing… it. 

“That’s close enough,” Dean warned as he pointed his gun at the shifter. 

“Oh, Dean,” it said as it suddenly dropped and rolled skillfully behind Sam. Dean fired his gun at the movement but missed the target, leaving a small smoking circle in the machinery. You jerked at the sudden sound and took a moment before taking in a deep, stabalizing breath. 

“Come on, after the last few days, Dean, stuck at home with… me,” it smirked as it slowly crouched over Sam and held the jagged blade to Sam’s throat.  “The sad, pathetic thing you rescued from purgatory,” she mocked with an exaggerated pout. “Listening to her whining, holding her as she cried, falling asleep on the couch as you held her… we both know you were dying to put a bullet in both of your heads just to get the pathetic misery to end.” 

You studied the back of Dean’s head, imagining the furious expression flashing across his face.

The shifter pulled the edge of  it’s blade through Sam’s sweat-slicked hair, causing the tip to graze against his check and scalp, just light enough to not break the skin. Sam flinched reflexivly and squeezed his eyes shut. The shifter sneered at Dean for a moment before catching your eyes as you peaked over Dean’s shoulder. 

It smiled and narrowed its eyes at you as it licked it’s tongue across it’s teeth. “Looking a little rough there, sister. My brother got a few good hits in at least. Tell me, how far did he get before you noticed? One finger? Two? Balls deep?” It laughed. 

“Stop it,” Dean seethed. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” the shifter sneered as it pressed the blade ever so slightly against Sam’s throat, drawing beads of blood to the surface. Sam winced and you felt the rage building inside of you. It took every ounce of control you had to stay put. 

You locked eyes with Sam as tears spilled from his wide, horror-filled eyes. The throbbing ache in your cheek was a painful reminder of earlier that night and you watched as his eyes drifted over it. 

The shifter crouched down again and licked Sam’s ear while looking at you. “Am I doing it right?” it asked before brushing your… its fingers through Sam’s hair and jostling his head around simply for the sake of reminding you who was in charge. 

“That’s what you asked the first time you put Sammy’s cock in your mouth, isn’t it?” it drawled right into his ear, its eyes still locked on you. 

Your heart raced, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the throbbing ache in your cheek worsened from your rapid pulse. You rested a palm against Dean’s shoulder to steady yourself as you felt yourself losing balance. All you could think about was rage. But for Sam’s sake you couldn’t let its taunts get the better of you. That was easier said than done. 

“You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming,” Dean bellowed as he stepped fully in front of you, blocking you completely from the shifters view and sadly, from Sam. “Your brother went quick. Couple silver bullets and he was down. When I’m done with you you’ll be begging for a bullet, do you hear me?” 

You heard a brief squelching sound and something heavy and wet spilled to the ground.

“I needed to catch up,” Sam sneered. 

But it wasn’t Sam. It was the shifter, transformed now, into Sam.

“Mmmm, that’s some sweet, sweet pain and guilt, Sammy,” the shifter hummed. “Delicious..."

It pressed the knife further into Sam’s neck. Sam grimaced as the blood dribbled down his neck. All you could hear was Sam grunting in pain. 

“Your gun,” it said.

Dean dropped the gun, letting it swing from his pointer finger as he spread his arms.

“Cut the crap. What do you want?” Dean asked.

“I told him not to go after you Winchester’s,” it spat. “But he insisted.”

“Refresh my memory, would ya? What did we do to you anyway? We haven’t hunted a shifter in years.” 

You could hear Sam breathing rapidly as he tried and failed to catch his breath. 

“Charisse.” 

Dean hesitated. “Who the fuck is Charisse,” he asked under his breath. 

“The witch… from the other day… my last hunt with Sam,” you whispered. 

Dean gave you a small nod without breaking eye contact with the shifter. 

“Since when do shifters and witches work together?” Dean asked. 

“Please, Dean… we both know you don’t care,” the shifter replied. 

Dean shrugged again. “Eh… normally you’d be right, I don’t really care what you monsters get up to when you’re not hurting people. But a witch and shifters working together? Well, that’s not something I’ve ever seen before.” 

“Charisse was like a mother to us,” the shifter said as he stood, still holding the blade to Sam’s throat. “She fed us and took care of us and gave us advice about moving through the world as monsters that people like us never get. And in return we helped her… well, pay the bills…,” 

“So you were thieves,” Dean said. 

You silently crouched and glanced around Dean, desperate for a view. You caught sight of the shifter standing above Sam. The grip on its blade had loosened as it spoke. The top of Sam’s head reached just beneath the neck of the shifter but in Sam’s frame, with his broad shoulders, there was a clear shot; a small shot, but a clear one. 

As you stood, hidden behind Dean, and his open jacket which added several inches to his frame, you took advantage of the cover to check that the safety on your gun was released. 

“Don’t move,” you whispered so that only Dean could hear you. 

“So mommy dearest bites the big one and your brother decides to get revenge,,” Dean vamped to keep the shifter distracted. “You both came to this town and got up to no good in order to draw out Sam. But brother got dead and now it all rests on your shoulders. Did I miss anything?” Dean asked, taunting the shifter. 

As he spoke you slowly, carefully and silently turned so that your back was to Dean’s and aimed your gun forward, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek. You were going to have to move quickly or the shifter would get the drop and… and… well, that didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to happen. Your took a deep, steadying breath. 

As the shifter began to reply you swiftly and carefully spun around on one foot, ready to aim your gun at the shifter’s head.

It looked and sounded every bit like Sam and if it weren’t for the fact that he was sitting right there that may have given you pause. You aimed and without a whisper of hesitation, fired off a single silver round into its head. It dropped the blade, sending it cascading across Sam’s front before clattering to the ground. The shifter stumbled backwards and Dean made a break for it, crossing the room in several long strides as you dropped your gun and sprinted to Sam.

Dean pinned the shifter down with his knee digging into its back as he pulled its arms behind its back and bound them tightly at the wrists. It was unnecessary, though, it was as dead as the one you’d left at the bunker.

“Nice shot,” Dean said as he examined the thing. For the second time in just a few hours Dean had to deal with the lifeless and bloodied body of his brother.

You stood over Sam and leaned over him, your fingers trembled with adrenaline as you fumbled with the knot on the rope between Sam’s lips.

“Y/n,” Sam whispered between his panicked breaths the second his mouth was free. You crouched down in front of him as you deftly cut the ropes off his wrists and ankles, hardly pulling your eyes away from his for more than half a second.

You looked him over as he stood carefully. In addition to the blackeye he was bruised on his thighs and abdomen and there were deep, red rashes around his wrists and ankles. Sam’s eyes hung on you but he wasn’t looking into your eyes. He was examining you, studying whatever it was that Dean saw in the car earlier that made him wince. 

Without even thinking, you found yourself pulling your silver blade from your boot. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you said. “But I have to.” 

He nodded and pulled his hand into a fist as he held his arm out. Sam watched your eyes as you swiped the blade across his arm, drawing out a thin trail of blood. He winced and inhaled sharply, all the while never peeling his eyes away from you. 

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It was Sam. It was really Sam. You dropped your blade to the ground with a clatter.

While you wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and wrap yourself around him, to cling to him, you were still unsure of everything. You stopped short of a hug and instead stood there like an idiot, frozen, as you stared up at him. You had to remind yourself to breathe, again. He stared down at you, holding your gaze now, before briefly glancing to the side of your face and back. 

Dean picked up your gun and blade before giving the room a quick once-over. The electronic components, flashing green and orange, were kept to one side, opposite of the desk.

Sam caught your eyes lingering on the pile of rope and the blood spatters around the chair and pulled you to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and inhaled deeply as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I’m okay,” he whispered. 

You felt your insides return as he held you. Your heart and lungs and thoughts all fell back into place, stopping the pinging marble in its tracks as the walls crumbled. The marble, with one last ping, lodged into your heart. You were whole again… mostly.

“God, Sam,” you said, fighting back your sobs. “I… I-” 

He brushed his hands over your hair and tenderly shushed you. “I’m here,” he said softly.

“Is it dead?” Sam asked Dean, his tone hard as he continued stroking his palms carefully over you. You caught Dean giving Sam a small, silent nod as you pulled away, ready to not spend another second in this place. Dean handed you your gun and knife which you quickly put away.

Dean stood to the side of the door, ushering you and Sam out before flipping the light switch and pushing the door shut behind him. 

 Dean lead you all back to the Impala, his eyes scanned the area like clockwork as you all made a beeline for the car. You climbed into the front seat, the safety of the Impala enveloping you as you finally relaxed and your shoulders dropped. Dean quickly looked around as Sam climbed in the back. Dean started up the engine, it’s gentle rumble surely waking at least one person in the nearby houses. 

In less than fifteen minutes Dean had you all back at the motel. 

“We’re not going back to the bunker?” Sam asked. 

Dean shook his head and glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror. “We need Cass to check the warding. It’s not safe.” 

Sam looked at you and then back at Dean. “The… the bunker?” 

Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to know more but the hesitation from you and Dean to say more made him scared to ask. He slowly opened his eyes and his gaze fell upon you and you could see in the rearview mirror the tears glistening in his eyes again. You had never seen him look so vulnerable: half-naked, no weapon, fighting back tears. You wanted to kill the shifter all over again. You bit at the inside of your lip, worried that it might start to dawn on him what had happened. It’s not that you didn’t want him to know. You just weren’t ready to deal with it. And as long as Sam didn’t know, you could almost pretend that it hadn’t happened. Almost.

Dean nodded curtly as he cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stared distantly ahead. 

“Stay here,” he said to Sam as you climbed out of the car, too. You raised an eyebrow to Dean. “I’ll be right back,” he added to Sam.

Dean, ever the over-protector, was now made even worse. He followed you to the door and once again, checked the entire place over. 

“Dean,” you sighed. 

“Not up for debate,” he said, repeating himself from earlier, his eyes still studying every inch of the room as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m not saying you can’t be protective but you’re not my security guard. There isn’t a monster in every closet,” you said. 

 His nostrils flared as he stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, before turning back to you. “What happened… tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “...will never happen again. I won’t let it,” he finished as he swallowed hard. “Not even for a single second will I let you go through something even remotely close to that ever again.” 

You stood there in the middle of the room, too shattered and exhausted to argue with him. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid that night all that time ago when Cass manipulated Sam’s memory. 

“What are you gonna tell him?” you asked as you choked back your emotions. 

“Enough to catch him up,” Dean said as he turned away and headed back to the Impala.

He left the motel door open and climbed back into the Impala. Sam watched you from the backseat. You locked eyes for a brief second as Dean twisted to face Sam and rested his arm on the backseat. 

You stepped away from his line of sight, not prepared to handle what Sam’s reaction might be. As they talked, you kicked off your boots and jeans and slipped out of your flannel before climbing into the already unmade bed, leaving the fresh bed for Dean. You left half the bed for Sam, though you weren’t sure if he’d take it. Sure, he’d been emotional and comforted you, that still didn’t mean he’d forgiven you. 

You cozied up under the blankets and shut your eyes, desperate to fall asleep, though you weren’t sure what you’d find when you got there. More importantly, however, if you were asleep then you didn’t have to talk with Sam. You inhaled deeply as you nestled your face into the pillow. It smelled faintly like Sam and the longing for him slowly began building back up inside of you. You felt a single tear slip down, leaving a wet circle on the fabric. 

Dean’s booted stomps sounded as he crossed the threshold, followed by Sam’s silent, shoeless scuffles. You half wondered if he’d brought any other shoes with him but that was a problem for tomorrow. One of them flipped the lights off. Sam paused at the edge of the bed for a moment and you could hear him quietly breathing as he watched you. A beat passed before he continued to the bathroom and shut the door. Dean pulled the string on his bedside lamp, providing him with enough light so that he could walk about the room but not disturb you. Seconds later you heard the pipes squeak and water rushing as Sam turned on the shower. 

You carefully opened one eye just a sliver and watched as Dean grabbed the ice bucket from the dinette table and left, this time pulling the door quietly shut behind him. He returned moments later. You listened as the locks clicked and Dean slid the chain lock into place. He sat in the dinette chair and peeled open one of the empty plastic bucket liners. He scooped ice into it and tied a knot at the top, sealing it closed. The chair quietly scraped across the floor as he stood up and pushed it back. You could feel his presence looming over you, blocking out the light of his lamp on the other side of the room.

“I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered. 

You huffed and gently bit at your lip before opening your eyes. “What gave me away?” 

“Scooch,” he said. You turned carefully and painfully onto your back and pushed yourself back just enough for him to sit beside you on the bed.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain of the near suffocation you'd endured back at the bunker was beginning to set in. Your chest ached deep down to the bottom of your lungs and you kept your breath short to avoid the sharp, stabbing pain that came when you inhaled too deeply.

Dean lifted the ice bag and slowly pressed the bag against the right side of your face, eliciting a hiss from you as it stung your tender skin. You reached up and placed your hand over Dean’s who pulled his away, letting you take over. You held it there as he watched you. 

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit,” he said as he stood back up.

“What for?” you asked. 

“Um, your face,” Dean said as he wrinkled his brows.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as he squatted down to pull it from one of the side pockets of his bag. 

“You haven’t looked?” he asked as he made his way back over to you and sat down. You shook your head slightly, the ice clinking along to each movement. He studied your expression before nodding. He kicked his boots off and leaned over. You let your hand fall as he pulled the ice bag back. 

“Can’t see,” he muttered as he reached over and pulled the string of your bedside lamp, illuminating your side of the room. He straightened up and zipped open the first aid kit to pull several items out. 

You glanced down and watched as Dean fussed over his tools. A little bottle of clear liquid caught your eye and inexplicably made your stomach drop.

“Not rubbing alcohol, Dean… please,” you said quietly, shocked at yourself as tears stung the corner of your eyes. You just couldn’t… hurt, anymore. Not tonight. You’d had enough.

“Don’t be a baby,” he said before catching your pained expression. “Sorry,” he whispered quickly. “It’s not alcohol,” he said, shaking the little bottle. “It’s like antiseptic or something.” He shrugged. 

You took a deep breath and looked away. Dean took that as his sign to continue. “Can you sit up a little?” he asked. 

You pushed yourself up and jutted your head forward. He held the washcloth beneath the cut. 

“Look up,” he said. You did as he asked. He squeezed the bottle’s liquid across your cheek, into your cut, cleansing it. The washcloth caught most of the runoff, but some did escape and run down your neck, slicking it. He pulled the washcloth away and refolded it to get to a dry edge and dabbed it gently along your check. You stared at a random spot on the wall as he worked. He returned the bottle to the pouch and pulled out an ointment tube which he squeezed onto a cotton swab and swiped it across your cut as gently as he could manage. 

“This is deep, y/n. I’m gonna have to stitch it in the morning,” he said as he pulled the wound tightly shut with two butterfly bandages. You grimaced at the thought.  

“Done,” he said with a gentle smile as he returned everything to the kit and zipped it up. 

The roar of the shower cut off and there was the familiar scrape of the shower hooks across the curtain rod as Sam exited the shower.

“Thanks,” you wheezed as you looked down and fiddled with your fingers. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Can I… do you need anything?” 

You shrugged as you locked eyes with him. “Water, I guess? And every breath hurts from when... And sleep, but… I’m also, I mean, I’m a little afraid… to sleep. Don’t know what I’ll…,” you trailed off. 

Dean glanced away and seemed to think for a moment. He left your side only to quickly return with the stainless steel water jug and a plastic cup from the motel. He filled it with water and handed it to you. As you sipped the water he returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a small plastic bag with two large white pills in it. Dean handed them to you and you let them roll over in your palm as you tried to guess what they were. 

“They’ll conk you out,” he explained. “And Sam and I will be right here the entire time. You don’t have to worry,” he assured you. 

“I never worry about that,” you said, giving him a lopsided smile. 

He frowned and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him not to do that, that he had done everything he could and what happened wasn’t his fault, but you just didn’t have the energy. You swallowed the pills and finished the water. Dean refilled the cup and set it on the bedside table. You shifted onto your side, your injured cheek faced up, and got comfortable under the covers as Dean turned the lamp back off. He picked up the bag of ice and placed it gently back over your cheek. 

You were just beginning to drift off when you heard the bathroom door open followed by the quiet footsteps of Sam making his way to his bag to rummage for clean clothes. He returned moments later and climbed into bed beside you. It was quiet for a moment but you could feel his presence as he leaned over you, examining your face in the pale light.

“Did I miss anything?” he whispered to Dean.

“Just bandaged her up a little,” Dean whispered from his bed. “And gave her the good stuff to help her sleep.” 

“Maybe I should go to a pharmacy and get some real ice packs,” Sam thought aloud. 

“It’s four in the morning. There’s nothing open for over a hundred miles,” Dean reminded him. 

“I’m sure I could break into a doctor's office or something in this Podunk town,” Sam said. The bed creaked as he leaned back against his pillow. 

“Okay, simmer down, John Dillinger,” Dean teased. “It wouldn’t make enough of a difference to be worth it. Gonna have to stitch it up in the morning regardless. What about you? You good?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "Nothing deeper than surface level."

You wanted to move, to curve to Sam, or ask him to hold you, but the drugs Dean gave you were strong and were quickly taking over every muscle in your body, including your tongue and lips, and thankfully your aching lungs.

“Get some sleep, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Dean’s bed creaked and you slipped your eyes open a crack to see him turning onto his side, squeezing his pillow against his face. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his jeans and flannel. You couldn’t see it but knowing Dean the hand under his pillow was resting over his Colt. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. 

Sam leaned over in the darkness and pressed his lips gently to your temple. You sighed as you fought tooth and nail against the drugs for more seconds with Sam, scared that in the morning, or when you were better, Sam would be gone again. Your body was so heavy you felt like you were going to sink into the mattress.

He pushed toward you, pressing his body carefully against yours and found your hand. He grasped it in his and with everything you had left, before giving into the heaviness and slipping under, you squeezed it, desperate to let him know you were there and aware and so grateful for every moment with him. He laced his fingers with yours and pulled your hand along with his to your heart, wrapping you in him like you were a gift and he was the bow. 

The message had been received. 

EDIT: Chapter 12

[genericpuff]

Hi! Maybe this is a difficult question with no answer, but as a fan of Rekindled who might want to start their own comic, what do you suggest to avoid burnout? Do you start wiht writting the script right away, you doodle a bit,..? Thanks for reading, I love how you draw big noses, makes me more comfy with mine!

no fr my dark secret is that i've been experiencing burnout with my main original project that I've spent the last decade working on for literally a year now. this isn't the first long hiatus i've taken, the longest one i've ever been on has lasted two years, and it's undoubtedly not the last i'll experience because the lump of salt and fat and tissue that is my brain often overworks itself into exhaustion like a big dummy

rekindled has been my reprieve from the burnout. it has been my vacation from years of working on the same project, meeting the same deadlines, drawing the same characters, over and over and over again since before i was in college.

if there's anything working on rekindled has made clear to me, it's that i'm still capable of drawing comics. the comic-making isn't the problem. it's just that when you work on the same project for years and trap yourself in an uphill battle, eventually your climbing gear is bound to break.

if there's another thing that rekindled has opened my eyes to, it's the insanity that i put myself through prior to rekindled that led to my burnout in the first place.

i get people telling me that they couldn't imagine doing what i do, that even before i had my assistant helping me out, i was still able to put out 30-40 panel updates every week.

but before that, i was putting out 70-90 panel episodes of my original work. every week. full color. full spread action scenes. no assistant. very little financial gain aside from a couple patrons on patreon and one dedicated viewer on twitch, which i was also streaming on 2-3 times a week.

and now that i've been working on rekindled and even finding myself often crunched for time with that, i have zero clue, no idea, a complete lack of comprehension of how i pulled off 70-90 panels a week for months on end. there's a reason it resulted in burnout and i know that now. this comparison is not for the sake of a flex - this comparison is to make it clear that much of what i do isn't the norm and isn't exactly a healthy standard. case in point, i sneezed while sweeping up yesterday morning and it caused a muscle strain in my lower back/hips and i've been working out of my bed since, i'm in a lot of pain and it might mean i don't make any money this week if it's not better by the time i have to do my appointments at my day job on thursday. my need to create my personal passion projects is often at odds with my bad habits of not taking care of myself 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。

when it comes to tackling burnout, your guess is as good as mine. really it just comes down to rest. when burnout - real, true burnout - hits, it's not just "man i'm bored of working on this", it's "i can't even think of looking at this thing let alone working on it", it's basically akin to depression and it's an awful thing that i wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy (even with Rachel, I don't want to psychoanalyze her mental health but it does seem like she's possibly been experiencing burnout with LO for years now and that really sucks for her if that's true). so the solution is just as complicated as the cause, it's not something that you can just rest from for a week and come back from, it takes real long-term healing.

when I found my way out of that 2 year hiatus, it was in spring of 2019 and I decided to just work on a random comic page that wasn't even in the comic I was working on. and then suddenly it was like a switch flicked back into the on position and i didn't even finish what i was working on, i just went back to my original project and i kept working on it until it was finally finished at the end of 2021. as suddenly and randomly as it had set in, it was gone. but i can't just do the same thing this time, it just doesn't work that way.

that said, through all this, i've learned that my need to create is not restricted to any one tangible thing, i'm not doomed or designed to stick with the same words, the same faces, the same ideas until the end of time. while i do try to keep up healthy routines for myself to ensure i'm looking out for my future self and their deadlines and their upload schedules, sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. and in my case, the heart wanted to take a break from the self-reflective psychological analysis dark fantasy weebo stuff and just draw some pink and blue characters a little less ugly. the self-reflective weebo shit will still be there when i'm done with the pink and blue stuff, and i'll surely have loads of new things to unpack through it once i return.

there are still times when i'm working on rekindled and i'm feeling the creeping hand of my routine destruction digging its claws into my back. the reality is that 30-40 panels is still a lot for someone like myself who's doing this entirely for free, but my definition of normal for a while was so insanely inhumane that even what's still considered a lot by most people's standards feels sane and normal to me after what i put myself through.

i've learned to be more gentle with myself, and to loosen my own expectations of what i'm capable of to ensure i don't do anything like that to myself, by myself, again. i give myself room to create without expectations or the pressure of eyes watching when i can, and i remind myself that even if burnout rears its head again, and again, and again, the will to create is not gone. it's just tired, and resting, and growing, and healing as i am.

anyways that turned into a self-reflective essay post, to answer your question about making stuff ahead of time, i find that's more helpful with just like, planning out a structured story (so you don't write yourself into a corner) but whether or not it helps with burnout kind of depends. because it can just as also easily be the cause of the problem because constantly seeing the stuff you wanna be drawing so far away can be just as much of a morale killer as a motivator. some of the stuff i'm super psyched to write and draw with time gate is years away and that timeline grows longer the more the burnout goes on which makes the struggle feel even more overwhelming and pointless and defeating. so plan ahead, but keep it all within your means if you can. i find what works for me is planning out just general beat-to-beat plot structures (to ensure i at least have a plot skeleton going on so i know where i'm going) then i leave the finer details to when the actual episode i've planned gets closer to fruition and i can get myself in the headspace to write it fully.

also remember that just because you're really excited and motivated to work on your comic doesn't mean you should work yourself into exhaustion - it's a good thing if you're going through the mundane of your daily routine and the whole time you're hyped af to work on your hobby/personal project/etc. because that's what will keep you moving forward, so don't spend all that hype in one place by working and working and working until you're exhausted, because that hype is REALLY hard to get back after you've spent it all.

long post over! hope that helps! best of luck in your projects! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[brawltogethernow]

I don't know if you're the best person to ask this but you're the only person on my dash who reblogs Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya shit in 2023. I have to know, did Haruhi... finish? I know it was a light novel series (tho I've only seen the anime) but like did the story arcs conclude? Are they translated?

You've lucked out: I am. It did not finish, but it got a lot further than the anime took you. Everything is translated.

The anime adapts light novel volumes 1-3 and some of 5 (short story collection partially set before 4). The movie adapts 4. I've heard "Endless Eight" is the way it is because they were set on doing 4 as a film, and...didn't just use their episode slots to adapt achronologically despite their existing reputation for doing that for some reason? Incomprehensible. Anyway.

If you haven't seen the movie because it came out after the moment was already dead, you should, even if you were just kind of neutral-positive on the show, because from a purely objective perspective it's a contender for the best quality movie following an anime show that exists. Also that installment is just a much better stopping point than where the TV part left things. Like the ~entire concept~ remains open, but some arcs actually evolve or wrap in a way where you can be satisfied with the story you've gotten.

So 4 1/2 volumes have been animated. There are 13 light novels. 4 is a stronger book than the preceding volumes, and the quality continues to wobble irregularly upwards from there. It pulls off another unprecedentedly good entry that isn't an ending but is a pretty acceptable place to put it down in 11 and 12 (which are functionally one two part book). 13 came out a literal decade later in 2020 and is another short story collection; nice to have but doesn't change the metrics much except to make the indefinite hiatus look slimmer on camera.

All of the books have been officially translated by Yen Press. (They recently did some sort of rerelease that didn't fix any of their typos but removed the slurs they added in the first place? So that's...nice ? ?) Everything they've covered except a chunk of 13 has also been unofficially translated, which I like to keep on hand because while the YP translation is very readable, it...requires a second opinion sometimes. There are also still some loose short stories that only have fan translations, and apparently there's about to be an official release of some nonessential short story collection from twenty years ago I heard about for the first time in my life a month ago. (Also there's a like, officially licensed Koizumi POV fanfiction short, fanlation only.)

Will Tanigawa ever put an actual cap on the series? Idk it's not technically impossible. It seems more likely to me that he'll pull off one more absolutely batshit installment that resolves nothing and then vanish forever except to write a new short story every eight years. It's worth catching up though imho. The later books do a lot to pull the earlier ones up behind them retroactively. Themes solidify, elements that were wavering between parody and deconstruction collapse into sincere reconstruction, the characters actually like each other, that sort of thing.

[msjaeger]

That Wasn't In The Script (Part:ll)

*there's gonna be underage drinking and smoking but everyone is above 18 so it's technically not underage ;)*

Eren, Jean, Connie, Mikasa and yourself all walked backstage into the dressing rooms to plan for the afterparty. Sasha, Armin and the others had left after the conclusion of the talkshow to either get dressed or mentally prepare themselves for whatever might go down tonight.

You sat down on the comfy chair that was in the centre of the room while Eren and Connie sat on the couch and Jean leaned against the wall. You playfully yank Mikasa down and into your lap, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your chin on her shoulder. This caused you to miss the red flush on the girl's face. "So what's the plan tonight? We doing it at my apartment again?" You asked and you played with Mikasa's fingers.

Connie scoffs "Bro, be so fucking for real. You don't live in an apartment. You have a whole ass penthouse, babe."

"It's not that big, Con." You reason.

"You have a fucking bowling alley."

Jean throws an empty water bottle at Connie's head and rolls his eyes. "Maybe if you didn't spend so much money on shoes, weed, and cars, you'd be able to afford a nice ass penthouse like the rest of us." Connie shoots out of his chair and storms up to Jean.

"Don't make me shave that mane off." Jean glares at Connie before focusing his attention on you and Eren. "You know, the horse jokes would've never existed if you two stopped telling them when we were kids."

Eren shrugs "If the horseshoe fits."

"Can you guys stop?" Mikasa sighs, annoyed about the constant bickering. "You guys are upsetting Mika, now I'm gonna have to lace your weed with bleach." You say playfully as you hold your friend closer.

"So we'll do it at my place. I can get the alcohol so let me know what you guys want and what you think everyone else wants. Like Smirnoff, Everclear, Pink-"

"If you finish the word 'Pink Whitney', I might throw up." Connie exaggerates and places his hands on his knees while hunching over.

"Real. Last time we hung out and there was Pink, I ended up blacked out on a park bench." Eren cracks his knuckles while recalling the... interesting experience.

"Well, a lot of people know how to handle their liquor unlike some of you." You scoff. "Anyways, Connie can you get some bud? I haven't smoked in a while and I swear I've been smelling colors or something."

"For sure, I got you, ma. I'll text my guy right now." Connie pulls out his phone and walks outside into the hallway. "Do we want this to be a private party or what's the move?" Jean asks as he takes Connie's spot next to Eren.

You think for a bit.

"Fuck it. It's celebrating us busting our ass for the past- what- 10 years? We just gotta make sure security is checking everybody." Jean nods and pulls out his phone to make an announcement on Instagram about it. Eren looks over to you lazily and smiles.

"What do you want me to do, ma? I can get the food and drinks 'n shit to your place in an hour if you want." He offers as he stands up and walks behind your chair. You feel his two large hands rest on your shoulders and a light squeeze.

"It's weird, isn't it?" You say suddenly. Both Eren and Mikasa quirk a bow.

"What do you mean?" Eren asks, still not moving his hands off of your shoulders. You hum. "Just... weirdly, it's over, y'know? Even during that big hiatus that happened between Season 1 and 2, we still looked forward to Season 2. Then Season 3. Then all the parts in Season 4." You pause to remove your head from Mikasa's shoulder to look up to Eren. "It's just... weird."

You hear Mikasa hum in agreement while Eren sighs. "Yeah, I get it. Especially you, Mikasa, Armin and me. We literally saw each other grow up, you know?" You lean your head onto his forearm and right before you were about to add onto that, Connie burst into the room.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! I need the biggest favor of the entirety of favors.!" Connie screams as he runs to you. You sigh but smile at him softly.

"What's up?" Connie begins bouncing on the heels of his feet.

"You know how I'm trying to launch a music career and stuff? My producer asked if I could do a little gig at your party tonight." He falls to his knees. "The beautiful, intelligent, prosperous Y/n. PLEASE. I'll do anything!" He begs.

"Connie get up." You chuckle. "Of course you can. One condition though. When you blow up, you have to say I'm your number one fan." Connie nods his head so fast, you thought it would fly off its hinges.

"I love you so much. Plus I got 15 zips heading to your place in an hour so best believe you're gonna be fried fried." Connie shoots up and fumbles with his phone.

"I gotta call my stage guy, my DJ, my sound guy..." He sticks his tongue out as he concentrates. "You know what, I'm gonna head back to my place. I gotta get ready and organize my crew. What time were you wanting us to pull up?"

Jean clears his throat " I mean, I posted on my story for people to start pulling up at 8. And she probably wants help setting up so come at like 4 or something. Does that work?" He looks towards you and you shrug.

"Sounds good to me. Eren is gonna cater but if you guys wanna bring food or something, I'm definitely not gonna object." Jean nods and stands up. He walks over to you and ruffles your hair.

"Bet. I'm gonna head out with Connie too. It takes a good two hours to look this good. I'll see you later, ma." He kisses your head as he leaves with Connie, who is screaming into his phone about finally being able to put himself out there.

"I'm gonna take Mikasa back to my place and meet up with Sasha, Armin and Reiner. They're gonna help organize everything and then we'll start setting stuff up. You wanna come with?" You ask as you lightly pat Mikasa's waist a few times. She hops off you and you stand up and stretch.

"Nah, I gotta go get something. But I'll probably be there by 3ish." Eren yawns before he kisses your cheek. You grimace and push his face away. "Gross. You're gonna give me rabies." You chuckle as you lightly pull his ear. Eren shrugs.

"You know when you get a girlfriend, you'll have to stop doing that. I have a slight feeling it wouldn't go too well." Eren holds his hand up to his chest in fake offence.

"What?! But I've been doing it since we were little." He wipes a fake tear away from his eyes. "I guess I'll just stay single forever." You scoff and shove his shoulders.

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

"Y/n? Where do you want me to put the DJ booth?" Connie asks as he jogs into your apartment with Jean on his heels. "At least say hi to her first, damn." Jean scoffs as he admires your penthouse. Sure, he's visited plenty of times, to the point where he has his own room. But it never ceases to amaze him.

The open-concept living space is a masterpiece of modern design, seamlessly blending contemporary aesthetics with comfort. High-end finishes and top-of-the-line materials adorn every corner, from the polished marble floors to the custom-designed lighting fixtures. The living room has plush, designer furniture arranged around a sleek fireplace, creating an inviting atmosphere for both relaxation and entertaining. Not to mention you added your own little flare by adding LED lights around certain areas of the living room.

The kitchen is a chef's dream, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances, a spacious island, and custom cabinetry. Whether you're hosting a dinner party or preparing a quiet meal for two, this kitchen is both practical and aesthetically attractive.

A highlight of your penthouse (and the upcoming party) is its expansive terrace, an outdoor oasis in the sky. He remembers the time the group had come over to drink and it ended up with Jean and Eren recreating that one Titanic scene on the balcony. With a private plunge pool, lounge seating, and a dining area, the terrace was the perfect space to host parties for a bunch of young adults whose highlight of the week is to get drunk and high.

"Jesus, did your place get bigger?" He whistles as he walks up to an energetic Connie and yourself, who already drank half of a seltzer.

"Har, har, har. Can you grab whatever that is? It's for Connie's performance and he needs it close to the stage." You crack your knuckles out of habit.

It was currently 7:45, meaning there were 15 minutes left until the party started. It may be assumed that no one ever really shows up to a party at the exact start time but parties thrown by your cast members tend to be excluded. If you were to glance outside the window, you would see a huge line that wraps around two blocks. And obviously, as the night progressed, more people would show up.

"I wonder if Levi, Hange and all the old people will show up?" Sasha suddenly spawned behind you, causing you to jump. She was munching on a slice of pizza while holding a red solo cup. You wrap an arm around her and sigh. "Fuck, you scared me, Sash. But I think they're coming later. They have some fancy event they're all going to.

As the anticipation builds for the upcoming party, you begin to observe the setup you and your friends worked so hard to accomplish.

Dimmed ambient lighting, accentuated by flashing, bright lights and spotlights shines over various areas of the room, creating a scene that could only be described as a scene from Euphoria. The music playlist, carefully curated to match the event's vibe, subtly fills the air, acting as the calm before the storm concerning the festivities that were to come.

At the bar, a well-appointed alcohol station beckons with an array of alcoholic beverages. Shimmering glasses, neatly arranged, await their turn to be filled with a variety of concoctions. The bar is even stationed with two mixologists in case guests don't want to make their own drinks! You watched as Eren sneakily took a shot of Hennesy before shaking his head rapidly with his eyes and nose scratched up.

In the kitchen, a buffet table showcases an enticing spread of appetizers and snacks. From cake to pizza to chicken wings, the culinary offerings set the stage for a night of the munchies. The aroma wafting from the food station adds an extra layer of anticipation. Mainly for Sasha.

A focal point of the setup was the entertainment area. Whether it's the dance floor, a stage for Connie's performances, or a professional DJ ready to fill the space with upbeat music, this area promised to be the heartbeat of the celebration. You even got a photo booth and a karaoke machine that's hooked up to the TV in your other living room.

"You look so good, mami. I forgot to tell you." Sasha says as she slaps your ass. You chuckle as you smooth out your sweatpants. Your 'party' outfit consisted of designer half-black-half-white sweatpants (the only reason you would ever wear sweatpants to a party is if they were 400 dollars), a fitted black cropped cami and a pair of Jordan's. "I don't know, Sash. I feel like I underdressed. You're wearing that cute skirt and Mikasa and Historia were wearing dresses. I feel like I look like those girls who say 'I'm not like other girls' or some stupid shit." You sulk.

"Girl look at Ymir and Annie. Ymir is wearing skinny jeans that make her look like Sojiua Boy and Annie is wearing the same jacket that she wears to sleep. I don't think anyone thinks your outfit is bad. Plus your makeup and hair make it ten times better."

"Yo, Y/n!" Reiner calls out. "It's 8. You ready to open the gates and let the hellhounds in?" You glance around your penthouse, making sure there were no details missing. Once you confirmed everything was set, you gesture to the DJ to turn the soft and ambient music up and into something more up-beat.

"Tell securtiy they can start sending people up once they've checked them."

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

What time was it? 10? 11? You knew it hadn't been long since the party started but you could estimate at least 300 people were inside your penthouse that very moment. You recognized a few of your friends and cast mates, like Pieck, Hitch, Floch, and a few others, who came later but you knew the majority of the people were fans of the show.

You were currently at the bar, holding a bottle of Tito's, before downing one more shot and placing it back down onto the counter. You began to journey through the sea of people on the dance floor, people noticing you almost instantly cheering your name and moving out of your way. You make your way over to the "VIP section" a.k.a a little section that sat on the small balcony that overlooked the living room that could be accessed by a secret staircase. The security obviously recognized you and let you up the staircase.

Fitted with a few couches, you found a few of your friends chilling upstairs. You had Eren and Jean leaning slightly over the balcony to wave at fans, Floch who was blacked out on the biggest couch and Mikasa trying to light a preroll, except her lighter seemed to be faulty.

"I got you, Mika." You say as you sit down next to her and fish your lighter out of your pocket. With a subtle click, the flame emerged, casting a warm glow that contrasted the euphoric lighting that surrounded. The joint, lifted to her lips, met the flame with a hiss.

She inhaled deeply and then removed the joint from her lips before holding the bitter smoke deep in her lungs. She offered it to you as she exhaled, not before a few coughs left wracked her body.

"My little butterflyyy." Eren stretched out as he turned around to see you sitting down. He slightly stumbled over his feet as he shuffled over to the couch you and Mikasa were sitting on and threw himself onto your lap.

The sudden movement caused some of the roach of the joint to flake off and began to fall towards Eren's face. You quickly covered Eren's face with your hand just as it was about to land in his eyes and instead landed on your hand.

"Fuck." You hiss out as you blow smoke out and begin to shake your hand, hoping the cool sensation will ease the pain. Mikasa quickly snatched your hand and began to examine it. "Are you alright? How bad does it hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital?" Mikasa's words were slightly slurred but you understood it perfectly. She snatched a water bottle off of the table next to her and poured the water onto your hand.

"It's alright, Mika. Happens all the time." You attempt to calm the anxious girl. Eren sits up slowly and looks at you with glossy and low eyes. "Did I hurt you?" He asks quietly, reminding you of how he acted as a child when he would get in trouble. You give him a reassuring smile. "It's alright, I promise." He hugs his knees to his chest and stares at you.

"Eren, I love you so much but I hope you know when you're high or crossed, you get extremely creepy." You chuckle lowly as you unravel his current position. He tilts his head to the side, causing his bun to flop a little. "Wha' you mean?"

"Your eyes get all beady and you stare at me like Chucky." He lays his head down in your lap and shrugs, then proceeds to mumble something. "What was that?" You give him a quizzical look.

"N'thing." He pouts.

Jean finally turned around and waved at the three of you. "Guys! Connie's about to perform! We need to get down there!" Jean announces loudly over the music. You ushered Eren out of your lap and the four of you leave the balcony and go downstairs to what can only be described as the pit.

Connie is standing on the stage with a mic in one hand and of course, a fat blunt in the other. He ushers the crowd to be quiet and surprisingly, the once wild and rowdy crowd became almost like law-abiding citizens.

The four of you join up with Armin, Sasha, Annie, Ymir and Historia in front of the stage as you await Connie to speak more. He clears his throat, takes one more hit of his blunt and lifts the mic up again.

"As y'all may know," he starts off, his speech somehow intact, "I'm Connie mothafuckin' Springer! And I've been working on 'sum I hope y'all enjoy." He pauses as he lazily searches through the sea of people before spotting you and the group right in front of him.

"And I gotta give a quick shoutout to my day ones right here!" He yells into the mic, causing the crowd to clap and cheer. "I'm way too drunk for this," Jean mutters in your ear.

Connie had said something again but you missed what he said. It must've been something about starting the music because all of a sudden, the DJ began blasting a beat through the speakers and Connie began jumping around the stage and rapping into the mic.

"Why does he lowkey look like Central Cee?" Ymir chortles.

"I swear, if one of my windows break because of the bass, I'm gonna lose it."

//// THis is long overdue and I wrote this half-asleep, with five shots of Henny in, and high as balls while at an NYE party so I'll check this in the morning to make sure it is grammatically correct or smth. Anywho lemme know what you wanna see next and ILY GUYS SM HAPPY NEW YEARS///

[dwaekkicidal]

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Requests: [💟] Open [ ] Closed

SFW wise I'm open to pretty much everything but angst and CGL! I'm open to fake texts as well.

NSFW wise I'm open to most things EXCEPT: scat/piss, feet fetishes, incest/stepcest, gore themes, wax play, age gaps/play (meaning no stepdad/teacher stuff. maybe professor but it depends. "Daddy" kinks are fine as a title like "Sir" is), male!reader, and dom!reader.

I'm unsure about MxM content BUT I'm more than happy to read/talk about it with short drabbles as long as my asks are open :3!

I'll update this if anything else comes to mind, but if you're not sure just send an ask <3

Just as a slight warning: there may be a lot of rougher themes for smut/nsfw content. This means you will see a lot of mean dom, (face/pvssy) slapping + spanking, and hair pulling. They won't be in EVERY fic, but they will appear a bunch cause they're my fave :3

•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•

˚ʚ Other ɞ˚

If you are interested in being a specific anon or part of my taglist: send me an ask or comment! (or dm if you really want to)

I'm not sure how active I will be! just as a warning! I think as long as I don't run out of ideas/asks to do, then I should upload (fics) a few times a month (don't quote me on this.😖)

MDNI with this blog at all! this is an 18+ blog (i honestly prefer 20+ but ill let 18+ slide).

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!!!!

[itsdappleagain]

i know csweekly is on hold now, but I still have to catch up on The Luchadora Tango Caper, so here it is!!

Season 3 is maybe my least favorite season out of any of them, but I still love it, so I'm really excited to get into this!

Notes under the cut as always and please ignore the fact that I'm a month late on this thx

NEW CASTLE!!! NEW CASTLE YAYYY

sometimes I think this whole series is Maelstrom just talking about shit for like 14 hours

cleo sympathizing with guys in skirts <3 she knows ur struggle boys

love how they slapped up a giant glowing green world map and copper sulfate burning chandeliers before they put in insulation or heat

brunt, girl, calm down. they were just doing their evil minion bagpipe job

british on british violence

that was such a cute nod when this season first dropped. haha theres been no sign of her all summer because of the hiatus you are so clever

they rlly thought they had something with the turn them against each other thing. i cant believe they thought they tvy7 rating would let shadowsan and carmen kill each other 🙄

"carmen is DEAD" (cheery tango music)

i mean it works because we know hes wrong and stupid but like

no offense but the tango dancers are animated in a way that is reminiscent of a kid manually moving their barbie dolls legs to make them walk

our girl <3

tell me why dropping 200 feet onto the top of the metal detector was more sneaky than literally anything else she could have done

ok. yes. but the fact she is robbing it does not negate the fact that she will be on the news for breaking into a bank dsjfsdghfkdsa

1021 is the number on the box- could it mean something? in a strictly doylist sense. october 21st doesn't seem to have any significant holidays...I can't find anything, might just be a random number set.

good god the "i...have his eyes." hits me like a truck every time

gina pulled it out with the voice acting in this one

she WAS a very cute baby

"another" link girl what else has there been you should be ecstatic

ayyy its the character literally everyone except spintrap-stan and amaryllis solely remember for being voiced by dante basco

i love how snarky carmen immediately gets. if he knows her name and what she looks like, obviously he's an operative, so she gets to have a little fun in immediately declining him while still gaining valuable information, almost immediately, about who he is and what his talent will be

everyone is very stretched today

this is not my favorite fight scene honestly (at least until flytrap gets here. dont even get me started on her fighting style im in love with it) because its literally just like ooh. he kicks. she dodges. wow. they really do try with the tango parallels but idk

wow!! other people can kick too??? who knew

she protected the face

cutely runs into oncoming traffic

those cars were not even slowing down girl they were just like HONK MOVE OR DIE

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS FLYTRAP MY GIRL

okay mini rant incoming i already did a post on this like a billion years ago but flytrap is one of my favorites because in my opinion she and paper star are the most dangerous villains we ever see in the show. let me. try to find that post actually

yeah here it is

flytrap is also so hot and has the same va as luz so she's just top tier. idk if the team put half the episode budget into celebrity voice actors and thats why we only got 5 episodes but you know what

love how carmen is literally stopping her attempts to get free to banter. girl. stop

shadowsan <3

love how they do not even bother showing the fight they just get their asses handed to them

why didnt they start in veracruz just asking

not the table

ok guys. you can stop with the tango thing now. its okay

that little conversation between ivy and shadowsan is so good

comrades??? sir its not the cold war

article from 17 years ago, thank you for that easy to understand slang

carmen plot armored her way out of getting her skull smashed in on that train so hard that she made maelstrom stupid

its canon both in and outside of the show that color theory is so prevalent that any sort of red at all immediately signals carmen

the colors are so beautiful in this scene. carmen doesnt have her coat or jacket on, everythings just a little desaturated as she searches

THE ACME GANG <3333

not the finger guns and glasses wheeze hes such a loser i love him

THE FORESHADOWING TO EGYPT WITH THE PYRAMIDS ON HER LAPTOP!!!!

love how all we get of julia this season is her being pissed off and then leaving

he was such an asshole for closing her laptop why did he do that 😭

has carmen just been ignoring vile missions for the last season of the year to research her mom or

girlie is so sad about everything

ah yes, the door, the thing you wish to have opened, the best place to lean your full body against after you knock,

i'M SOrry. did you NOT attend a school for THIEVES

HSDGGDG HEY. just broke into your house. im your long lost daughter

i love how she goes DONT TOUCH ANYTHING and then immediately drags her whole arm across the wall and cabinet

also her face when she sees the masks is perfect

okay be honest how many of you have replayed carmen saying maybe mommy at least once. who. raise your hands

shes sooo buff

love how everyone is taking this so seriously and then carmen is just completely apathetic about anything thats going on

dont deadname lupe, carmen

her hair catching a gust of indoor wind for the sole purpose of making her look sick as hell in her intro card is so iconic

as ivy absolutely obliterating zack in the foreground is so fucking funny

she got that "EH EH EH." titter of "HEY NO. DONT YOU DO THAT" down scary well

devineaux strutting im sobbing. julia was doing SO well and then she got paired with devineaux AGAIN

that cab driver looks so concerned about the hulking texan in his backseat

remember when the trailer dropped and we thought those roses were for julia. good times

everyone narrowly avoiding each other as they pull in

you just know ivy smacked zack when he protested to decoy time hdsafhadsg

gotta say the "EH?" while getsuring to the trophies is fucking hilarious. obviously julia knows she wouldnt go after those but its so funny

i do love the way carmen just shrinks any time brunt appears. she is soooo traumatized

VAMOOSE EL MASKO SHES SO ACCURATREIUSDHKFSKHFD SHES EXACTLY WHAT MIDDLE AGED AMERICAN SOUTHERNERS SOUND LIKE

LUPE IS SO FUCKING COOL

devineaux showcasing his braincells for a spilt second this episode

ah, so begins the not a good time mantra

devineaux getting absolutely decimated because he thinks coach brunt thinks hes handsome is so funny

the referee watching two apparent civilians enter the ring: 🙂

carmen is so funny here. she uncuffs herself and then just leaves devineaux to die like fuck his ass he can get smooshed

carmen getting increasingly mad at devineaux while she drags him places is my favorite part of the episode

also, either carmen got stronger or devineaux had a few bouts of crazed research where he didnt eat, but she can drag him easily now as opposed to when she was struggling back at the trap in poitiers

they put this shot in the trailer and without context it just looked like carmen was standing there glaring at brunt menacingly

the cat burglar <3

worst fucking ref on the planet i love him

was carmen stopping to listen to julia's voice i would like to think so

ah the devineaux and cars gag. i mean, to be fair, it wasnt his fault this time

starts beatboxing

carmen really just dumped her whole life story on lupe thats so funny. girlie started the day preparing for a match, got her house broken into, and then ended the day learning about a global crime syndicate

they really ended s2 going THE NEXT SEASON WILL FOCUS ON CARMENS MOM and then started s3 going well actually um okay so

theres our transition sentence

lupe's yellow and blue palette btw!! cs color theory i love you

lupe is more of a mom than carlotta ever gets to be thats sad honestly

carmens little smile ough

here is a shot that very succinctly illustrates the dynamics in the coming seasons. the three at the table stand strong- always have. roundy is basically a footnote no one cares about him and then brunt...brunt is sort of on the edge. this carries over all the way into s4 when malestrom tries to drown her

oh my god i forgot about the weird halloween thing the faculty has going on this season i love it

my analysis is right in time for spooky season >:) halloween IS nearly upon us!!!

OKAY well my thoughts on the luchadora tango caper...pretty good. honestly its kind of net zero information because we introduce the premise of finding carmens mom and then immediately abandon it but it sets up um....well....it sets up....what does it set up

anyway- not my favorite episode, even though lupe is fucking awesome. i think it suffers a little from deviating from that classic caper structure and jumping around, but it does its job as an introductory episode.

until we return, sayonara, mon amigos!

[ayoharuko]

Valentine Oneshots with the Luxiem boys~! (Part 1)

Hello hello! Ok...I know that I’m supposed to be on my hiatus right now but...I wanted to do something for you guys at this valentines day! So this gift is from me to you :3

Reader here is gender neutral!~

REMINDER: Please know that I'm only writing about their persona’s and not the people thats behind them! This is also a work of fiction so please try not and take this too seriously :)

‘’Just for my beloved darling~���’

~Vox Akuma~ (Voice Demon)

‘’My love? Its time to wake up darling..’’ You hear a familiar voice say.

‘’V-Vox?’’ You call out to your demon lover, ‘’hehe...wake up, I have your breakfast ready here at bed for you~’’ He said smiling at your cute drowsy state.

At the smell of the waffles you instantly open your eyes and nearly drool at the slight of the yummy looking waffles.

‘’Eat up my dear, and don’t worry I've already eaten breakfast’’ He said fixing your pillows so you can sit up strength properly.

‘’Oh..thanks love!’’ You thank him while kissing his cheek, he chuckles and looks at you with loving eyes ‘’Well...after you're done..do get dressed up for me, we’ll be going somewhere special’’ He saids standing up and walking out of your shared bedroom.

Eh? somewhere special? Hm...wonder where his gonna take me.....

You quickly finish the breakfast he had prepared for you and got dressed up, and you didn't know weather to be formal or casual because..Vox didn't really say anything soo you just dressed an semi-formal outfit~

Vox told you that he'd be waiting at the car so after you got dressed you got into the car, ‘’Ah, my love you look beautiful as always’’ The voice demon says smiling at you and then focusing his eyes on the road.

You mumbled a ‘thanks’ since you were flustered and just looked away, still not knowing where your voice demon was gonna take you.

You both had finally reached where your supposed to go and...wait..this place looks..familiar....

It was a beautiful cherry blossom park, sakura leaves falling on the ground. It just made this place look so magical.

You both got out of the car and you just look at the beautiful yet magical scenery...wait..is this? You glanced at Vox and he had a knowing smile present on his face.

‘’Vox...was this the place..’’ You stop midway while Vox completed your sentence ‘’Where we first had met? Yes..yes this is’’ Vox said looking the at scenery a well.

Ah..now you remember..it was exactly 4 years ago...hah..you can't believe that you almost forgot where you both first met...

‘’But..whats the occasion?’’ You ask turning to face him, ‘’Darling, did you forget?’’ Vox asks, you just raised your eyebrow at him and Vox just sighs.

‘’Its Valentines day honey...’’ Vox saids holding your 2 hands, ‘’Oh..’’ was all you could master...seriously tho...how could you forget?

‘’V-Vox..sorry I completely forgot!-’’ Vox cut you off with a kiss and just hushed you, ‘’My beloved its ok...all I want this valentines is...to see you smile’’ He saids while caressing your cheek.

‘’I...Vox...’’ Tears were brought to your eyes as you snuggle your head in his neck. Vox pulled your head from his neck and kissed you passionately...

You and Vox spend your Valentines at the beautiful park, just talking with each other until nightfall came.

He then took you home and made a lovey dinner for you 2, and after you both finished he offered you a dance.

‘’Will I have this dance my lady?’’ He asked smiling while holding his hand out for you to take, you smiled and happily answered an ‘Yes!’ and you both danced under the moonlight without a care in the world.

Vox Akuma knew what lost was...and was afraid of losing something important to him again, but you showed him that you would never leave him.

For once, Vox Akuma the Voice Demon, was happy and never wanted the feeling of love to end.

Done! I hope you guys liked my first Luxiem oneshot! Now this is part 1 because I wanted to do oneshots of it, I know I'm supposed to be on hiatus cause literally after like 2 days I'm leaving but...i wanted to do something for you guys this Valentines soo I hope you enjoyed this!

Idk if I'll be able to finish all the boys this Valentines day but, I'll try regardless!

Reblogs and Feedback/Comments are always appreciated! :3

[chaoticrobotics]

Please don't rush your comics take it slow and steady I know many people are eager to see more from your comics but please don't forget your human you need to take breaks from time to time art burnout isn't a joke I myself was once a artist and i quit that because it didn't bring me much joy anymore because of excessive burnout so please from one artist to another Take a breather maybe plan what your gonna do for the story going forward maybe take some inspiration from the game or something though whatever the outcome I will honor it.

Oh don't worry about the story itself. I have it all planned out and am absolutely not changing it (other than possible dialogue changes, I have the major plot points all set though). So that's not the issue.

It was the actual art itself. You are right, art burnout isn't a joke, and honestly I'm pretty sure I've never been closer to quitting art than when I was making Security Alert. The only difference with me is, art is one of the very few things that bring me any sense of joy. It's literally either a select few video games, or making art/stories, and at the time of making Security Alert I was in a video game burnout too and struggling through college.

All of that built up to make me miserable to draw and probably super depressed looking back at it (though I wouldn't hit a true low until my last semester, if I was still trying to do the comic then I don't think I would have made it).

Anyway, thank you for your words. I do appreciate them! I am going to take my time with this comic. Maybe even try out a different format or something. Smaller parts or less detail in the art. I just want to get the story out, and since I am not a writer, I have to draw it. But I'll definitely be taking my time when drawing it.

I'll be honest, I don't know how many people might have realized it, but I am a serial procrastinator that needs deadlines to get shit done, and I get stuff done all in one go or not at all. So all those big parts I posted? Those were all done in basically one sitting. Some of them were done in 3 days with me getting a total of like 3-4 hours of sleep on the weekend, not even counting the editing I did for videos. So you can probably see why I started to resent the comic and start to burn out from it.

I'm literally just rambling now, but I wanted people to know a little bit about what I went through since I know not everyone will be as understanding as you or other people who have sent in kind words to me in the past. I've learned my lesson then, and since I am not in college anymore, I won't feel rushed to get things out before the weekend is done or be rushing myself to make people happy.

It honestly all really sucks because I was always so happy to post the comic/tiktok and pass out finally, then to wake up to a flood of nice messages. But it would all too soon go away because only a day (sometimes not even) after posting people would be demanding the next part. It just sucks since I did have fun a lot, but also had that fun drained away just as quickly.

I don't even know what I am trying to say anymore. Thank you for the nice words. I will keep to my word about not rushing myself or pushing myself too much. I do feel like I am, at some point, going to try doing what I did before and pull all nighters and fuck up my sleep schedule drastically, but I'm hoping I will recognize the signs this time and take a step back once I possibly start doing that.

So don't be upset (saying this to the general audience/whoever reading this, not specifically you) if at some point in the future, if the comic does continue, that there might be another hiatus. Will definitely try not to go on a basically year long hiatus like I did last time, but depending on how my mental state is, it might be a pretty long one.

[floralcrematorium]

1, 10, aaand 4 :3

Thanks for the ask!!! I uh. Go on a big ramble so I'm throwing everything under the cut!

Do you relate to your favorite character(s)?

Yes and no.

My fondness for China and Norway isn't one based on their characters because I haven't fleshed them out (yet) in my head. I have no idea how to write for either of them! I genuinely would love to spend a day cooking, painting, or just talking with Yao. I yearn for platonic companionship and Yao isn't chaotic and we share similar interests. Our aesthetic interests are very different, but oh well!

I don't know what Lukas has to offer tbh, he's entirely eye candy to me (sobbing).

My fondness for France and Ukraine has to do with self imposed headcanons.

My Francis is honestly probably ooc -- but I don't care. I have taken these guys and run away with them. A lot of my Hetalia writing is Human AU because I have a hard time connecting with immortal creatures as someone who cannot see what even the next year of their own life looks like. I guess what Francis and I share is a fondness for food and art (like with Yao), but those aren't activities I would want to do with Francis. We can both be dramatic, I will over-dress just to go out with a friend, and we're both a bit pathetic. While my Francis isn't like early canon France (you know what I mean...), he's still a romantic. I am not.

I don't think it's a necessarily rare headcanon, but I see Miss Ukraine as fat. She's plus size to me and that's something we share. I've been wanting to write a Kateryna centric oneshot about the difficulties and mental struggles that come with shopping as a fat person, but I haven't been in a reading/writing mindset recently and this topic would be a bit taxing on me. One day, though!! I'm still formulating my characterization of her... CanUkr oneshot is STILL in development hell.

TLDR: Yes because I impose bits of myself onto Francis and Kateryna for RP and writing purposes and also for comfort. No because a good handful of my favorites (including some not named) are just little guys I'd like to put in a shoebox and shake around.

10. How long have you been in the fandom? What's your lore?

In 7th grade a friend told me I might like Hetalia because I liked geography and history was my strongest subject in school. I cannot remember when exactly I checked it out, but I definitely was into by Spring 2014. I literally have emails from back then of memes we exchanged...

My best friend and I met online at the end of that school year and we actually started talking because he played this video over skype screen share. Fast forward to the summer and I'm drawing, writing fic, and we made our Hetalia Instagram account. There were three of us. It was essentially just a repost account because we were all in middle school. I never really interacted with others from the fandom other than the two friends I ran the account with, both of whom I still talk to <3

Our instagram account died off sometime around 2018. We deleted it around 2020-2021.

I came back to Hetalia by a freak accident. I was going through my old google drive and rediscovered the three-way-POV fic my friends and I wrote and immediately ran into our group chat. It was a bad fic. Basically Hetalia in the setting of Outlast meets FNAF vibes. Yes, it was a Wattpad fic... (now deleted). We made the joke of rewriting it, but that thought only lasted for one night. Then out of curiosity I got back into listening to the official character songs, and that's what did it for me... (shoutout to "Aiyah, 4,000 Years," "Mein Gott," "Overflowing Passion," "Maji Kandou ☆ Hong Kong Night," and the Hetaloid song "Brother Complex").

Got back into reading fic. Somehow I went through my original stint in the fandom without reading "Gutters" and that's what pulled me back into fanfic. Made an A03. Eventually figured, why the hell not, and made a Hetalia Tumblr so I could stop using my personal account.

I did have that hiatus, but I guess I could say I've been into Hetalia for 10 years now, which is nuts. I definitely had a period of regret and revulsion from 2019-2022, but still kept up with "oh, they made a new season" or revisiting some old art.

4. What's a headcanon you need to work out?

A lot of my headcanons have to do with Human AU FACE fam because I use them to cope with things, but I guess something that's been on my mind lately is the Tudor dynasty. My senior thesis, far before I got back into Hetalia, was actually supposed to be about the Tudors, but I abandoned it for something else. I recently got a book about the entire dynasty for my birthday and have yet to take a peek at it. I would love to write a fic where France or Marianne visits England over several Christmases to explore the relationship of Arthur/Francis or Alice/Marianne as England & France's relationship changes through the changing of the monarchs and especially as Henry VIII cycles through wives like calendars. I have to do research about it, though. I need to see how realistic it would be considering the on-again-off-again relationship between England and France (1520 The Field Of The Cloth Of Gold meeting vs Henry wanting to prove his military strength and trying to invade France). Funnily enough, I know almost nothing about France in the 15th and 16th centuries outside of :

1. Mary Tudor's [Henry VIII's sister, not his daughter, Mary I] brief stint as Queen Consort of France & Anne Boleyn's subsequent time at the French court as a lady in waiting to Mary

2. how Henry VIII repeatedly used war against France as an attempt to prove his strength [eyeroll]

To be honest, that fic is entirely an excuse to explore the different influence each of Henry's queens has over the court through various means. I don't think anyone else would really be interested though, so it may be something I keep to myself.

Hetalia Ask Game

[ralyks-uwu]

Wait It Out | Hunter x Clawthorne! Reader (angst/fluff, hurt/comfort)

Disclaimer: spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, Might rewrite at a later point, I just..really wanted to put something out again. With season 2b having been released on disney+ and being on a hiatus for several months, I just wanted to create again. I hope you guys enjoy it for what it is despite its flaws. Probs a bit ooc, did my best to make it gender neutral, will probably rewrite/edit later. This is a small draft, if you will.

Waking up to a rainy day is not something most creatures on the boiling isles relished in. In fact, most dreaded being stuck in their homes with little distraction of the growing tension in the air. The day of Unity was around the corner, and even y/n; a star pupil of the emperor’s coven and a prodigy of Lilith herself, was feeling anxious and unnerved. With the rain, it meant everyone in the castle would have a free-day, though it wasn’t exactly something to be happy about, as this would count for their one day off for the year. The rain was becoming more common as the days continued on. Belos was visibly upset and they knew they’d have to do damage control with Hunter as he was Belos’ favourite punching bag.

Knocking softly on the door, you could hear muffled weeping behind the large door. “Hunter..I’m coming in” you say before cautiously entering.

The room was quite surprisingly intact this time, though by the looks of him, you figured the pain was to great for him to trash the place as usual. “oh Hunter..” you crouch next to his curled up form in the corner, putting your hands up and assessing his body through your healing abilities.

Your hands glow a soft shade of blue as you mend the dislocated shoulder and the gash on his back.

“time heals nothing y/n..” he spats looking away from you

“what?” you ask confused as neither of you had said anything.

“you said that in time I’ll be able to do magic y/n. Look at me! Does this look magical to you? I’m useless, and everyones wasting their time waiting for me to…waiting for a miracle for me. I’m sick. Chronically sick, witches should be able to do magic and I can’t even make a light—“

“you’re not sick, hunter. You can’t do magic in a…what you perceive as the “normal” way, and that makes you feel as though you can’t do it at all. You could. You can, if you let me show you—“ you say pulling out a piece of paper.

“y/n—“

“Look just draw a circle” you say holding out a small piece of paper for him as well as sharing your pen with him.

“now what?” he pouts after drawing the circle.

“draw a line down the 3/4ths of the way down the center, and add a small circle inside a tear drop.”

“Y/n this is stupid—“ he says taking the pen from you and copying your drawing.

“now a triangle connecting to the bottom of the teardrop and circle”

“are we done yet?” he whines

“Patience. Now two small slanted lines in the center of that triangle”

“You’re wasting our ti-“

You gently press on your paper and it forms into a little ball of light, before nodding your head and encouraging him to do the same.

When he does so, he seems surprised at the appearance of the second ball of light.

“how did you—?”

“I’ve been visiting my mom and she introduced me to the human. She showed me her magic and I asked her to teach me so I could show you…It took me a day and a half to memorise the glyph.”

“You did all that for me? why?” he asks looking down at his hands now folded in his lap.

You smile sadly and sit next to him, staring at the wall. “With my parents separating, and my guardian becoming the head of the bard coven. My mom being a wanted criminal, and my aunt literally cursing my mom for pretty much eternity…I don’t have much…. stability.” you take a deep breath. “You give me structure and routine and comfort. You’re everything to me, and I love you.” you turn and look at him. “I love you, Hunter.” you smile despite the burning sensation in your eyes. “I don’t expect you to return the same feelings. Or anything along those lines. I just, needed to tell you. Before…before the chaos starts. With the day of Unity nearing…I fear I am on the wrong side. I should be with my mother. I should fight alongside my family.”

“What do we do then?” he asks looking at you with the same heartbroken stare. “I care about you, y/nn. I’m not sure how to recover if you leave”

“I can’t.” you say wiping your eyes.

“Time heals everything, Hunter. I know you, you’ll live. You’ll be whole again.”

“but what of the ridged hollows? the endless in between?” he swallows thickly.

“we’re just going to wait it out.” you take his hand and squeeze it for reassurance. “It’ll all work out, Hunter. I promise.”

“you don’t know that y/n!”

“But I do my beloved.”

“You can’t possibly know—“

“I know because it’s already happened” you kiss his cheek softly.

Hunter closes his eyes briefly, and in a flash you’re gone. You’ve gone a long time ago. Though the memory plays on a loop in his head everyday since you left. Providing the only source of comfort he had left.

And as he looks over at the broken portal key, the titan’s blood long dried out, on his desk next to the lifeless wooden bird carving. He sighs deeply. He was a coward, but he hopes you knew that day.

He hoped you knew all the things he couldn’t say. And he hoped you’d come back. Somehow. Someday.

He’d wait it out.

If only he knew the pen you left behind that day, the one he carried in his pocket as a good luck charm, was filled with the very same fluid, that let him escape one final time from the harshness of the boiling isles, and the tragedy of a war.

(Authors Note: If you want a part 2 + 3, I have ideas in the works and would be happy to make the companion pieces, Just let me know! )

[nobleriver]

I was tagged by @doctortomyriver a loooong time ago, but I never saw it til now because I was on hiatus. But it’s too much fun to pass up because I love the questions lol

Out of curiosity I’ll tag @benoitblanc @thebadtimewolf (love reading your tags btw) @beingshakespeare @autisticwho and @wibblyowzah

Tag Game: Doctor Who Edition

The rules are simple - answer the questions, then tag other Whovians to get to know each other better/find new people to follow, message, etc. If there are any questions you don’t have an answer for, feel free to skip them!

Doctor you started with: Nine. Ten. Eleven. Long story, but I watched all of them in same month or two. 11 was airing once a week. 10 and Martha were marathoning. And a friend gave me the Series 1 boxset which I devoured in a day because 9′s her favorite doctor. It was such fun to experience Who that way. Would do it again. I got them all at once.

Favourite Doctor: The Doctor

Favourite companion: None

Favourite episode: Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead. The Girl in the Fireplace. School Reunion. 

LOVE LOVE LOVE Sarah Jane and Moffat wrote a classic when he did The Girl in the Fireplace. Those two eps are why I love S2 so much. I can literally quote from each of these episodes:

“Are you alright?” “I’m always alright.” “Say it.” “Goodbye...MY SARAH JANE!” 😭😭😭😭😭😭 She’ll always be important to him! HELPPP! And of course, “Stay with me. C’mon! You and me, one last run!” That’s the title quote on my blog!

DW OTP: Doctorriver

Favourite line/quote: “Stay with me! You can do it! Stay with me! Come on! You and me, one last run!” - 10 to River 

ALKHSFASJHKFJHSLJFALJF I’M A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR.

Favourite character that isn’t the Doctor or a companion: River Song. She’s my favorite period. She pulls me back to the show again and again.

BrOTP: 10 and Martha. If found family counts, Doctor x The 3 Ponds and River x TARDIS

Favourite DW fic (if you have one): None. Just started last year. Haven’t read enough. I am writing one though. And if we count Big Finish as official fic, then, The Tenth Doctor and River Song. It’s insane how good that is.

Favourite DW fanart/blog (if you have one): Currently @expelliarmus and @tenriver 

But special shoutout to 3 of the greatest colorist I've ever seen @borntosavethedoctor @doctorwhoblog (aka @amywiliams ) and @tillthenexttimedoctor The way they color remains an inspiration. 

If you could pick anyone to be the next Doctor, who would it be? (Why, if you feel like explaining.): This question is outdated because I received this before the new Doctor was announced. Now, we have two new Doctors lined up to go, and I’m excited for both of them!

So I think I’ll change the question to 

Who are you most excited to see in the next series? The Duchess! She’s screaming female Time Lady and I’m curious, curious, curious.

[sky-squido]

For the ask game: Q, X, and, Y?

HI YES THIS ASK IS FROM SEPTEMBER—ANYWAY MOVING ON

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

Yeah, actually! I never post anything to Ao3 unless I’m 100% sure I’m going to finish it (even if it takes me literal years). That means both that I’ve never gonna perma-hiatus/abandon a fic if it’s on Ao3 and also that there are a lot of things floating around that I’ve actually put some legwork into that haven’t really gotten anywhere and I doubt I’ll get around to, so they've never really seen the light of day.

i was gonna permadeath hyrule and then i didn’t, details here

i did some light drafting and outlining of a story where the Four Sword splits Sky. it’d have to be long to do it justice and i didn’t wanna commit to that with two active WIPS on Ao3 at the time. i have just finished To Isolate, but i have 30k words of celestial navigation nonsense to now balance with hey four so i doubt i’ll get around to this one

i’ve got 4k words of legend slowly opening up to sky and telling him things and growing much closer and then very belatedly realizing that he knows next to nothing about sky himself. i started it in someone’s discord dms, but it wasn’t really going anywhere that excited me so i dropped it. if people want me to slap what i do have of discarded sketches-but-writing like this one on tumblr, let me know, though i warn you that they’ll all cut off partway through and be deeply unsatisfying

i’ve got 2.5k words of outline for something that’s kind of the same idea i mentioned in bullet 3 but it pulls wind into the mix and instead of being an i-just-dove-in-and-started-writing, it’s a pretty solid outline of something i just didn’t feel like fleshing out. the working fic title was “don’t look at me, i won’t be able to smile for you.”

i have another doc titled “haha lol legend is a punching bag.” this is a very apt title. legend gets nabbed by a baddie, puts up a heck of a fight tryna get away, almost manages, and then gets caught for real, bonked with malice, and unleashed onto his friends because we love to see link v link combat and the old i-know-you’re-in-there-somewhere fight. kind of an extension of that Malice!Legend ficlet i slapped on here a long while ago, but it does way more things. this one’s just an outline.

i’ve got 1k words of legend on koholint talking to marin after realizing the island was fake. had a cool take on marin, but wasn't really the vibe

i have this vague, very fluid concept that’s just “five times legend was helpless and one time he refused to be again.” what those five times are vary every time i try outlining it, but it’s just a lot of legend running into different kinds of The One Problem He Can’t Solve and struggling to cope with not being omnipotent. might actually revisit this one cuz i still like it a lot and i think there were some good ideas in here. my biggest problem with it is the “and one time he refused to be again” because i don’t like the implication that the solution to not being omnipotent is just to Try Harder but “five times legend was helpless and one time he accepted it” just sounds depressing. i’m very open to suggestions on this one!

i’ve got 2k words (written, not an outline) of four coming back to camp one night with red Very Much In Charge so his eyes are very red and then hyrule thinks he’s possessed and draws his sword on him and red freaks out and ditches and the other three have to figure out what’s going on. i didn’t really think it was going anywhere interesting but what really stopped me from continuing was that i started writing four Very Much Like A System and it was cool but then i started researching the neuroscience behind it and psychologist brain went wheeeeeee and now thinking about the fic just makes me want to do research instead of working on it oop

this one venty thing of hyrule just having no energy whatsoever and not wanting to talk to anyone. then he climbs a tree and feels a bit better. that’s literally it, and this one is actually complete, i just didn’t feel like posting it anywhere, though i can plop it here if y’all want.

then i have a silly AU outlined where all of the LU boys are either students or instructors at a flight school (like for airplanes and pilots n stuff). it would have to be really infodumpy though and i’m doing enough of that with my celestial navigation fic. the characters and world are fun but i also didn’t really have a storyline i liked so this hasn’t gone anywhere

there are probably more kicking around but i can’t find them right now

as for discarded scenes and storylines within fics i have actually written, there definitely are some, but i don’t really have any way of keeping track of them. the one i remember most vividly is that there was gonna be a part in to isolate ch.8 where sky overhears legend playing ballad of the wind fish and wind asks him about it and legend says he was hoping this was all some bad dream he could wake up from, but it didn’t really fit in the flow of the narrative we ended up with. there are actually a lot of deleted scenes from chapters 8 onwards because the outline and the actual thing are virtually unrecognizable as being part of the same fic.

X: A character you enjoy making suffer. All of them, obviously, but Wind and Four have been climbing that particular ladder! we need more content of them being deep and interesting and mature together (and wind especially, solo) and what better way to explore that than through strategically deployed angst and suffering!! this bodes well for Hey Four >:3

Y: A character you want to protect. all of them, believe it or not, but right now it’s mostly Legend, shockingly! he’s been my favorite punching bag for a while, but i’ve also noticed myself growing increasingly gentle with what i put him through and how i have him take it lately because these days it's actually way more interesting for me to be kind to him than to bully him

thank you for the ask and i hope you don't miss my reply considering it's been several months sfkghskghsdlfgjsdkl take care!!