#me having a weird week: god man i don't even know anymore

[spacecoyote]

ignore me I look like a total nerd and instead focus on how fuckin suave ben willbond looks, alright bond calm down (+ he also very sweetly signed my cabin pressure booklet and got excited to use the gold sharpie bc john had used silver on the cover lmao)

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

[niningtori]

see me | chapter four: together (final)

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after another failed relationship, you're ready to accept your fate as hopeless. choi beomgyu has other plans, though. or, beomgyu s your best friend's little brother and he's tired of you treating him like a kid.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending, best friend's brother au

word count: 3.4k (whoa)

notes: hi friends! happy easter to all who celebrate!! sorry this took me a bit to get out. i just love this story and this beomgyu so much i didn't want to rush it. i hope you're all satisfied with how this ends. see end of work for more notes :)

you're so out of it jia can't fucking take it anymore. 

"hello? come back to earth, please," she says, waving her hand in front of your face. "are you ever gonna tell me what the fuck happened with doyoon?"

it's been a few days since your return from the beach. suffice it to say, one painfully awkward drive was spent with you trying not to openly stare at beomgyu and him focusing intently on the scenery outside. 

you're actually a little surprised by her question. you genuinely haven't thought about your conversation with doyoon since you had it — you've simply been too preoccupied by the revelation that beomgyu has feelings for you.

"nothing much, really. he apologized to me and asked to get a drink sometime."

"what the fuck?! what did you say?!" 

"i said no," you reply simply. she's quiet for a moment before her face contorts into a deep frown.

"why do i get the feeling that that's not what's bothering you so much?" 

"because it's not," you admit with a sigh.

"then what is it? you've been weird ever since we got back."

you're torn for a while. how do you explain to your best friend that her kid brother is in love with you? or says he is, at least. 

"... it's about beomgyu. he—"

"oh, so he finally told you, huh?" she interrupts with a knowing look and you're absolutely flabbergasted.

"t-told me what?" you try feigning ignorance. maybe she's got it wrong?

"that he's been in love with you ever since he first saw you."

"how the fuck did you know that?!" you ask incredulously.

"you're my best friend and he's my brother. i know you two too well," she shrugs.

"so you knew this whole time and didn't tell me?" 

"well, to be honest, it was painfully obvious, but i didn't wanna embarrass either of you and it's, frankly, none of my business."

"i... wasn't he just drunk? i don't believe it…” you trail off.

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, he can't really mean it. he doesn't know what he wants. he's just a kid and—" 

"i'm going to stop you right there," she says sternly. "you may be oblivious, but don't you dare dismiss his feelings to make yourself feel comfortable. his feelings are real and he doesn't deserve to have you completely disregard them just because you can't face them." you flinch at her harshness.

"b-but he's never even hinted at it!" 

"never even hinted at it, my ass. that boy was all over you," she snorts. "did you really not notice anything this past week?" your eyebrows knit in confusion as you think back to all of the times the boy (man?) had interacted with you. suddenly, the unassuming touches and glances beomgyu shared with you hit you at a mile a minute. oh god, he was flirting? he was, wasn't he? and you just ruffled his hair and called him cute. 

but you're not done denying, denying, denying.

"i just don't understand. how could he like me when he's always with somebody new?"

"has it ever occurred to you that that's because he wants you to see him as a man and not the child you're so convinced he is?" you fall silent at this. no, it has never occurred to you, but now that she's said it, the puzzle pieces are starting to fit together in the most gut wrenching way.

"so he's been fucking around for years because he wants to prove something to me?"

"more or less, yeah." your head is spinning at this. so his feelings are sincere? 

"i... i don't know what to say."

"i figured you wouldn't," she hums.

"what do i do?" you ask with a newfound sense of panic. this is real. beomgyu actually love, loves you. 

"well, what do you want to do? it all depends on how you feel about him." 

"to be honest, i've never seen him as anything other than a brother," you sigh.

"and what about now?"

"i... i don't know. i'm just confused," you whine, digging your face into your hands and slightly tugging on your hair. when you think of the kiss you two shared, your heart skips a beat and butterflies arise in your stomach. well, that's new.

"honestly, i'll consider that progress. it's better than being brother-zoned." 

"jia!" you exclaim exasperatedly. "you're not helping. the boy i've thought of as a literal brother is in love with me and i've unknowingly treated him like shit for years." 

"yes, but i know and he knows that you didn’t mean it. look, even if you don't like him at all, don't you think he deserves a proper rejection at the very least?"

"you're right," you relent. "you’re always right.”

“well, i know,” she muses. “but before you decide anything, i want you to think about who’s been by your side all these years. when you didn’t have anyone else, who could you count on?”

“i —” you begin. 

“don’t answer yet. just think about it.” and think about it, you do.

-

the more time you’re left to think about what happened with him, the more confused you feel. beomgyu isn’t a child anymore, that much is clear, but does that mean you can undo the near decade of thinking of him as one? he’s handsome, sure, and that kiss nearly knocked you off of your feet, but can you really see him as a partner? as a man?

you’re not really sure. plus, what would happen if it didn’t work out? the choi’s are like family to you. they’re more of a family than your actual family ever was or ever will be. is it really worth gambling such an important piece of your heart for something that could easily end in heartbreak? but then, it’s broken, either way. can you really face the choi family again when you know beomgyu is in love with you and has been for such a long time? no, you can’t. not in good conscience. you’ve, intentionally or not, ignored beomgyu’s feelings for years now and you can’t ask him to bottle them back up for your own comfort.

you decide it's best to just talk to him. 

-

beomgyu doesn’t think that this is a good idea at all, actually. but his friends told him that rotting in his bed and crying like he has been for the past few days is even worse. when they put it like that, it didn't seem right to refuse their suggestion to have a double date with yeonjun. even still, he told them he wasn't ready to see someone new, but they said he was never seeing you in the first place. that sure shut him up. either way, it would be casual and yeonjun just needs a friend for his date's friend.

his "date" is nice enough, but she seems to have not gotten the memo that he's here as a wingman and not much else. she's trying to draw his attention by not-so-discreetly placing her hand on his thigh. gross. he genuinely thought about pretending to have a stomachache to cut the date short, but yeonjun had the bright idea of inviting the girls over after dinner. so now, as he sits on the couch of his and yeonjun’s shared apartment, he prays for god to intervene and end his suffering. 

a knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts. please, god, let it be the maintenance man telling them they have to evacuate because of a gas leak. he almost jumps out of his seat to get to the door first, but yeonjun is closer and he says he’ll get it. fuck. before he can catch a glimpse of the mystery person at the door, his date speaks again.

“gyu?” the girl asks tentatively.

“mmm?” he says, turning back around to face her.

“do you like me?” she says while, once again, putting her hand on his thigh. alright. enough is enough. usually, he would tell her to beat it and leave it at that, but ever since you told him he doesn’t treat girls the nicest, he’s decided he’ll try to be better. he takes her hand from his lap into his and opts to just be truthful. 

“to be honest, i —” 

“beomie?”

oh, he’d recognize that voice anywhere, even in his sleep. his head whips around almost comically fast and he unintentionally yanks his hand from his date's as he stands straight up.

“w-what are you doing here?” he asks, incredibly flustered.

you should say something, but your eyes can’t help but linger where his hand was joined with the hand of the very lovely girl sitting beside him, even after he’s pulled away. oh my god. you’re interrupting, aren’t you? he’s moved on, but you’re standing there like an idiot. you need to say something. 

“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude,” you choke out. you don’t know why, but you feel like you’re about to cry. you feel so embarrassed. why did you even for a second think that this would play out any differently? 

“everybody out,” beomgyu says firmly. 

“what?” his date asks, genuinely in shock.

“i said, everybody else needs to get out of here. right now. besides you,” he says while gesturing to your pitiful frame.

“gyu, i live here,” yeonjun argues.

“out,” beomgyu repeats. yeonjun lifts his hands in surrender and leads the bewildered girls out of the apartment. 

now it's just you and beomgyu.

after the door shuts, the silence is as unbearable as it is palpable. beomgyu is staring at you with the same intensity as he was the night he confessed to you. you feel so vulnerable — so seen — you honestly kind of wish you had just snuck out with everyone else. 

“beomie, i’m so, so sorry. i didn’t mean to ruin your date. i can go, i just —” 

“do you know what i've noticed about you?” he quietly interrupts. you’re so taken aback, you’re stunned into silence. he sighs before he continues. “the way you say things are okay when someone fucks you over. it’s okay to be mad at me, you know?” 

“beomie, i’m not mad!” you insist. “you’re single, after all. i’m the one who —”

“i’m single, but i still told you i loved you a few days ago. why wouldn’t you be hurt?” once again, you’re left speechless at his maturity. when did he become more mature than you? or was he always this way, and you just never noticed?

“or is it that you just don’t care enough about me to be upset?” he's the one who looks small now and you worry you have the power to break him. he deserves an honest answer, so you think about how you felt when you saw his hand intertwined with that girl’s and your heart feels a nasty pang. 

“i… i am upset,” you pause and process that ugly feeling. “really upset, actually. but not angry.”

“i’m sorry,” he says, not without conviction. “yeonjun needed a date for his date’s friend, and i planned on rejecting her, but i’m really sorry i hurt you.” 

“... it’s alright,” you say carefully. “i understand. and i still think you don’t owe me anything, beomie.”

“but i want to owe you,” he says quietly.

“what do you mean?” you can’t help but ask. 

“i want to owe you. i want to make it up to you, and i want you to make it up to me.” you think you understand what he means. he wants you to make it up to him for not seeing him as he truly is all these years, but you just can’t understand his thinking.

“why?” you ask softly.

“why would you ask when you already know why?” he answers quietly with a sad smile. because he loves you.

“but why? why do you like me? you could have anyone. i’m wishy washy, i’m insecure. i’m just a mess, beomie. and i don’t want you to waste your time with me.” you hate the way your voice shakes. you wish, for once in your life, that you could be brave enough to say what you need to say without hesitating. you feel as small as a child, and in front of beomgyu of all people. but the dynamic you’ve always thought you had is becoming more and more twisted as you realize you’ve been very, very wrong about him, and maybe about yourself, too. beomgyu is not some kid. his feelings are not so easily written off, and that becomes even clearer when he says his next words in a haste. 

“don’t talk about yourself like that,” he says sharply, and his seriousness immediately derails your train of thought. “i’m not looking for anybody else. i… i don’t want anybody else. and i would never, ever feel like my time is wasted with you. every moment i spend with you is important to me.” you don’t mean for your eyes to get hot. truly, you don’t, but the boy’s words are so kind you’re unable to control yourself. 

“you really love me?” you ask at the risk of seeming annoying. you just have to be sure. 

“i do,” he says patiently. “i always have.” he isn’t sure what to make of you asking this. he has no hope now, but if it makes you feel better to hear him say he loves you a million times over, so be it. you’ve been hurt enough all your life, from your parents to your partners, if he’s able to comfort you even just a little bit, even if it’s never reciprocated, it’s enough for him. so he continues. 

“i’m… i’ve always thought about how to say this, so i’m sorry if it’s just too much for you. if it is, then just stop me, okay?” you can’t help but nod. “i just have to say that, to me, you are the most beautiful person in the world. i’ve wanted to tell you that since i was 14. i know you’re sad and i know you’ve been hurt before, and i wish i could take it all away. i’ve always wished i could take it all away. i know you think you deserve everything that’s happened to you so far, but i want you to know that that's not true, and it kills me that you’ve ever felt that way. i love everything you say you hate about yourself, because you’re you. i know you want to change, and i want you to know that i see how hard you’re trying. those flaws that make you a mess, or however you put it, only make me love you more because i can see how hard you’ve worked to get where you are. and if you don’t love me, even if you never do, that’s… it's okay. i just want you to be happy. and if i can be selfish, i want to be the one who helps you get there.” 

you don’t try to stifle your tears anymore. they are now flowing freely and your breath is heavy in your throat. he understands you. he sees you for everything that you are and were, and everything that you’re trying to be. has anyone ever made you feel this safe before? has anyone ever made you feel this loved and understood? 

you think back to what jia asked. when you didn’t have anyone else, who could you count on? if you didn’t trust any man in the world, you could trust beomgyu. that’s just how it is. you realize, even from the first night you met him, you’ve always been relying on him, in a way. why else would you feel so comfortable telling him about your anxieties mere hours after you spoke to him for the first time? 

things were one way then, but they could be different now. beomgyu loves you in a way that previously seemed inconceivable to you. what did you do to deserve this boy — this man? not a fucking thing, in your opinion, but now that you know how he really feels, is it possible to accept anything less than the love he is now presenting to you? maybe he’ll wake up one day and regret everything he’s said up until now, but you’re far too selfish to give up the heart he’s begging for you to take as your own.

you don’t know why, but you fling yourself into his arms, reminiscent of how you did all those years ago when he was just a teenage boy and you were just a heartbroken girl. he holds you like he did before, with an overwhelming sense of patience and security. he traces his hands lovingly up and down your back. 

“okay. okay, i want to try. i can’t promise that i’ll be perfect, i can’t even promise to be good, but i’ll try, okay? you’re so, so good, beomie. and i'm sorry for not realizing it sooner.”

he pulls away from your embrace and your cheeks feel hot when you catch his heated gaze. he looks down at you and if his look wasn’t enough, his next words certainly are:

“can i kiss you?”

“yes, beomie,” you whisper. 

"call me gyu," he says hoarsely. you gulp and pray he doesn't hear it.

he softly, reverently, pushes your stray hairs behind your ears and you realize he’s done so many times before. mainly when you were sad, but this time is… different. when his lips lock with yours, you're stunned into oblivion. there's so much fire behind it, but still, there’s a gentleness you’ve never known. as if he’s afraid of breaking you, he holds you like you’re a precious gem. usually, kisses are take take take from you, but he gives you so much love and care you feel like you’re floating. is this what love is supposed to feel like? so safe and so, so warm? 

he parts from you far too soon for your liking. his breath is labored and his cheeks are flushed. you look at him in confusion.

“i-i’m sorry, i just can't. if we keep going, i won't be able to control myself. i'm gonna —” 

“it's okay, gyu,” you whisper. “we can keep going.” he understands what you mean without you having to say anything more.

“are you sure?” he asks, just to be safe.

“i'm sure,” you answer without missing a beat. his lips curl up and he leads you to his bedroom, hand holding yours so tightly, it’s almost like he’s afraid to lose you.

-

the night is spent with beomgyu praising you like he’s never seen anything quite like you before. you feel his devotion with every passing moment and you can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing all these years. you’ve never felt so good, so cared for, in all your life. when you’re finished, and he’s cradling you in his arms, you’re both struggling to catch your breath. he looks at you like you hung the moon, but what you don’t know is that you’re starting look at him like that, too.

-

you’re so anxious. as you pull up to the choi’s family home in the passenger’s seat of beomgyu’s car, you can’t help but wring your hands together. this could be very good, or very, very bad. you can’t help but feel like you’re… betraying? the choi family by dating beomgyu. they’ve taken you in as family, but you’ve taken beomgyu as your own. do you regret that decision? well, you can’t say you do when beomgyu grabs your restless hands and comfortingly squeezes them before telling you “hey, it’s alright. don’t be nervous. i love you. they love you. everyone here loves you. just be yourself and i’ll take care of the rest, okay?” 

“okay,” you say shyly. you and beomgyu have been working on your self esteem. it was pretty slow going at first, but you’ve been pushing through. now, after three months, you’re a lot better, but there’s still room for improvement. beomgyu is nothing if not patient, though. after all, he’s been waiting for 8 years. how could he not be? and so he patiently coaxes you out of the car and into the house.

you two find your way inside and are greeted by his parents, jia, and yijun. nobody bats an eye at you two walking in together — they just greet and hug you as per usual, but their smiles drop and their faces turn serious when beomgyu announces he has something to tell everyone.

“guys, uh, we have something to tell you all,” he says, lacing his fingers with yours, “we’re together now.” you could hear a pin drop with how quiet the room is. mrs. choi is the first to break the silence.

“h-how long? how long has this been going on?” 

“three months,” he says cautiously. again, the room is silent.

“... only three? damn it!” mr. choi exclaims.

“i told you guys it hasn’t been very long,” jia sneers. “now pay up.” beomgyu’s parents grimace while pulling out their wallets and stuffing cash in jia’s hands.  

“pleasure doing business with you,” she teases with a shit-eating grin.

“um, guys? what’s going on? i’m kind of pouring my heart out over here,” beomgyu says irritatedly. 

“oh, honey. we know. we’ve known you liked her since she first stepped foot into our home. she was the only one who didn’t,” mrs. choi replies with a wave of her hand and your cheeks can’t help but heat up to an impossible degree. beomgyu finally pieces everything together while you’re still scrambling to understand what’s going on.

“oh my god, did you all make a bet to see how long it’d take for us to get together?!” beomgyu exclaims.

“more or less,” mr. choi says nonchalantly. realistically speaking, you and beomgyu should be angry, but all you two can do when you lock eyes with each other is laugh. 

“so you’re okay with it?” you ask meekly.

“of course we are!” mrs. choi says. “we couldn’t ask for a better match for our boy. we were just waiting for you to see that, too.” you can’t help but feel your eyes go sour. you hug his parents and they rub your hair. why would you think they’d do anything other than accept you? they always have.

that night, after all the board games and movies and laughter, you go out for some fresh air. you aren’t surprised in the slightest to see beomgyu sitting on the back porch steps, almost as if he’s been waiting for you. 

“there you are,” beomgyu says with a grin blooming on his face. you sit next to him, so close your thighs are touching. you lean your head against his shoulder and you sigh in contentment.

“that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks.

“not at all,” you smile, “but did everyone in the world know about us besides me?”

“pretty much, yeah,” he giggles and you playfully smack his chest. after your laughter dies down, beomgyu senses some hesitation from you. it feels like you want to say something to him.

“what is it?” he asks. you pull away from him and stare into his eyes. they look especially starry tonight.

“i have to tell you something,” you say, voice trembling slightly.

“mhm?” he nods.

“i think… actually, i know i love you, gyu. and i’m sorry it took me so long to get here, but i really do.” your eyes water when you see beomgyu’s doing the same. he looks so relieved, as if your words in particular are the ones he’s been waiting for all his life. and they are.

“i love you, too, if you haven’t guessed that already,” he says softly. “and i’d do everything all over again if it meant i’d get to be with you like this.” his eyes close and he leans in. you meet him halfway and press your lips together in a chaste kiss.

notes pt. 2: and that's it for them! i actually wrote a bit of smut for this, but i don't think it'll ever see the light of day i fear. as always, feedback is appreciated! i'd love to know what you all think :)

masterlist

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 1

Rules to Follow | Loki x Reader

The Avengers bring you to the compound after a series of odd events draws their attention. Life seems to be looking up, until your abilities start to show again.

Chapter warnings: 18+ for implied sexual content, false/medical imprisonment

Series Masterlist

The cold, bleak conference room was a welcome balm against the uproar of the last two days. 

You weren't sure how it happened. One minute you were furious, staring down from the balcony of your flat, anger bubbling through your veins. And then you were watching a row of cars burn in the car park below. 

Maybe you would've gotten away with it if the weather was bad. If less people had been around. If it hadn't gone viral on TikTok. If it was the first time you'd done something weird. 

It wasn't unusual for people to have strange powers, not anymore, but there were certain rules to follow. Rules that included not setting cars on fire and frightening passersby. Rules your grandfather had set about staying in the flat and controlling your emotions, taking your medicine and laying low. 

A hand snapped in front of your face.

“Okay kid, spill. What are you?” Tony asked. 

“Uhm, I’m not anything at all?”

“No, come on. Setting shit on fire, what’s that?”

“Monster, alien or wizard?” Sam piped up.

“I swear to god Samuel quit it with that,” a pen flew across the room with surprising accuracy and embedded itself in the wall behind Sam’s head.

You’d seen them on TV, the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Black Widow, Hulk, Vision, Scarlet Witch and Iron Man. It’d be cool if you had any idea why you were here.

“Mr Stark. I didn’t even know I was doing it until it was too late. I don't know how it happens, but I promise I’m not a threat. It wasn't deliberate, you have to believe me." Your voice wavered, tears pooling in your tired eyes.

“Tony, let her sleep. She can use the spare room on our floor. We’ll keep an eye on her”

“Thank you Mr Rogers” you choked, wiping your eyes.

“Steve, please” his face was soft, reassuring.

It took an hour to find you something proper to wear.

A day to get your room fixed up, belongings brought from your little flat in London and new furniture procured

A week before you ate with the team, although you watched them from a safe distance. 

A month before you really spoke to anyone. Eventually they called in a therapist. 

The compound was nice, spacious and modern. There was no work to do, like at your grandfather's flat, just lots of questions that left you tired and disoriented. 

Lauren the therapist was the only person you'd really communicated with, even though you were sure she was relaying the information back to the Avengers anyway. 

"So from what I can tell, she's around twenty five to thirty." Lauren addressed the room, taking in the gathered Avengers. "The details of her life are very hazy, she lived in that flat you visited, Steve, with her Grandad. I know she cared for him and he died some months ago leaving her the flat in his will. She takes medication every day." Laura turned to Bruce "I hope the few I managed to pass on were helpful, so you can refill her script when she needs it." 

"That's the thing," Bruce said, "I can't work out what she's been taking. I've had FRIDAY take scans and vitals, asked Dr Cho, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her." 

"Because she takes her pills?" 

"No, Steve, there's just - there's nothing wrong with her. Her temperature is a little elevated. But that's it, not a dangerous amount. I'd just say she runs warmer."

"So what's in the pills?" Tony asked, leaning over Bruce to look in the manilla file he had spread open on the table. 

"If I didn't know better I'd say something alien."

"But you do know better…" Tony prompted. 

"Adgardian maybe? But in a bottle from her local pharmacy. The name on the bottle’s been scratched off and I couldn’t find anything like this on any pharmacy database."

Tony and Steve turned to Natasha and she nodded. She'd not been able to find anything either.  No phone, no social media, home schooled. Sam suggested they do it the ‘old fashioned way’ and started to encourage Lauren to bring the woman out of her room to spend time with the others in hopes she would make more friends and let more information out.

As you spent more time with the group they found you brought a strange sense of calm, arguments stopped as you approached the table, worries about missions faded away. They even spent more time together as a team organising movie nights and parties, sitting together and being more tactile.

That’s when things started to get very strange.

The old evening routine of everyone slinking off to their bedrooms had been replaced by an easy comradery and then a fizzle of excitement started to build. The music seemed muffled and even Steve and Bucky’s heads felt fuzzy, drunk.

“Let's play spin the bottle!” You declared, downing your beer and lining it up on the coffee table. Before anyone else could fully agree you had flicked the bottle, everyone watched it slow until it came to a stop in front of Wanda.

“You girls don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to,” Steve said. But you shook your head. 

“I don’t mind if Wanda doesn’t… I like girls too and it's just a game, right?” you shrugged.

You leaned over and kissed Wanda quickly on the lips, noting the frisson of tension that built when you pulled away. 

Sam went next, “your lucky night,” he laughed before pulling you in for a kiss. 

The next spin was Natasha and somehow no one was surprised when it landed on you again. Natasha leaned in close but, before her lips could meet yours, you tilted your head to whisper in her ear, “I know there’s someone else you want to kiss, you don’t have to." Natasha blushed, but pressed a warm kiss to your lips anyway.  

“Did you rig this bottle?” Steve asked, picking it up before spinning. You, again.

Bucky put his hand on the bottle. “I wonder who” he laughed, but you had noticed his eyes move across the circle to the red headed assassin. 

As he leaned in for the inevitable kiss you put your hand up, hiding your mouths, “she’s a good kisser,” the words were out before you could stop them. Bucky pulled back, frowning.

“Who?”

You didn't answer, but your eyes danced across the circle to Natasha, studying Bucky's face as he followed the line of your sight. With their eyes locked you placed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

You felt dizzy, only two beers in, but your head was swimming. The rest of the group weren’t fairing any better, both girls falling asleep and the boys nodding back against the sofa. Quietly you removed yourself from the pile of blankets and slunk back to your room. You hadn’t meant to say any of that, but you could feel it deeply, so deeply the words had bubbled out before you could swallow them back down. 

That night your sleep troubled you, the room was too warm making you sweat and writhe in the sheets and dreams of the Avengers flashing behind your closed eyes. 

The next morning no one could make eye contact, each team member focusing on their coffee or toast, eyes down.

When you sat down the same static spark of electricity seemed to move over the kitchen island, making everyone squirm and move in their seats.

Eventually Wanda completed the group, walking in red faced and nervous as she looked around the kitchen before visibly relaxing.

“Oh, we all had the same dream!” She exclaimed “I don’t feel so bad now.” She said, cheerily. 

“Wan, you’re not meant to read our minds,” Natasha protested, covering her ears as if that would make any difference at all. 

“Can we not talk about it,” Bucky grumbled, looking away from Natasha.

“But you slept, Bucky, isn’t that good?” At least Wanda was happy, you felt hot and sick “you didn’t have a nightmare like usual, you had the same …”

“Enough,” he snapped, slamming his spoon into his bowl a little too hard, milk splashing on the spotless counters. 

“Your dream was different though,” Wanda put a hand on your temple despite your attempt to squirm away, “yeah, yours was very different. And so was yours,” She pointed at Natasha who looked over to Bucky without thinking.

Wanda squeaked, a hand over her mouth “But Bucky, yours was just like…”

“Thats enough, ” Steve stood hands on the counter, “we need to figure out whatever is going on here,” everyone looked away blushing as he crossed his arms, Captain America voice in full effect. “For goodness sake, I’m going to speak to Bruce.” 

Steve stormed out and a rush of air moved across the island as everyone breathed out. Wanda let out an awkward laugh, head down so she wouldn't catch the eye of her teammates and left the room. 

After that incredibly awkward breakfast you began to pull away from the more open group spaces and started to spend a lot of time in the lab with Bruce while he tried to synthesise your medication. The small unlabeled tube of pills one of Stark’s assistants had packed for you was now empty. But all Bruce had been able to discover was a heavy sedative.

“You shouldn’t have even been able to walk around taking something that strong." He took his glasses off to rub a hand over his face, the fatigue of a sleepless night of experiments catching up to him, "you feel okay now?”

“Yeah”

“But you’re an inch taller than yesterday you said?”

“I’m an inch taller than I was this morning.”

Bruce rubbed his hand on his face, dangling his glasses from the other hand.

“Okay, walk me through what happened again”

“So I sat next to Captain Rodgers and Sergeant Barnes in the kitchen and when I stood up I was an inch taller, I could tell because my jeans were too short.”

“That’s not how growing works,” Bruce took a seat beside you and huffed out a breath. 

“I know that I’m not doing it on purpose”

For the last few days you had been slowly growing the trait of anyone you were in close contact with. It was unnerving everyone, looking up and seeing their eyes glowing back, or their hair colour tinged in highlights around your face. But worse still was that there was no clear explanation, none that you could or would give. 

It wasn’t the only change the team had noticed. Wanda, Nat, Sam, Steve and Bucky spent the most time together and they had all spent the most time alone together with you. But after only a few days they refused to even enter a room if you were there, prefering to skirt around the edges or take a different route.  

They couldn’t forget the night when they played spin the bottle, in fact they had thrown away all the beer of the same brand and there had been no more team evenings suggested. 

When you were alone with them a tension seemed to fill in the air. Steve had shifted your training rotation so that no one was ever left alone in the gym with you. Sam admitted you’d almost kissed last time you were alone and, red faced, Wanda agreed. Natasha and Bucky had also blushed, looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They complained that you kept trying to make them stand next to each other, and had even locked them into a cupboard 'by accident’ while pretending that you were unable to find the key until Steve freed them.

You couldn’t seem to control the feeling either, a primal urge inside of you growing the longer you were without your tablets. Growling and clawing until you had to excuse yourself and take a handful of the sleeping pills Bruce had given you. 

Wanda admitted, as you escaped the building tension for the last time, that this was when her dreams were the most extreme and everyone nodded along. Their nights filled with vivid, primal scenes, moaning and panting, the touch and taste of another filling their senses. 

And, though you could hear them talking about you, you could never admit that your dreams were different, that you saw yourself orchestrating their dreams like a puppet master, like a god and you’d wake in a cold sweat. 

Frightened, they placed you in the medical wing, a secure room with two way mirrors, sound proofing and, most importantly, a lock. Bruce told you that it was somewhere safe, where you could withdraw from the medication that was dwindling in the little orange bottle. But Tony was relieved that the team could relax now without you around. 

Alone, you took another sedative and rolled over in your plastic bed, under the thin sheet, and cried. 

The last time the team had met someone who had so easily got inside them and changed their dynamic, they had ended up with an alien invasion. Steve was sure you weren’t in control, thinking about your embarrassment and desperation when Bucky and Natasha were locked in the cupboard, how quickly you left the room whenever the conversation became heated. He was sure, sure , you were safe, that it was just a side effect of whatever you’d been taking all these years and that given time everything would go back to normal. 

Tony, however, was taking no chances. 

“We need to call Thor.” He suggested as they watched you through the mirror, you were reading a book and running your finger over your lip as you concentrated. With each pass of your finger your lips changed colour, working through shades of pink and red. 

“What can Thor do?” Bruce had had enough stress for one month, thank you very much, and was much happier handing out medication until they could find somewhere else to send you. All he needed to do was refine some samples and he’d be able to remake your medication and then he could give Fury the go ahead to have you moved. 

“He can bring Loki,” Tony said, jumping up to sit on the tall lab counter and tossing a few blueberries into his mouth. 

Bruce looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “Is that a good idea? The man’s mad.”

“I don’t want to see him anymore than you do. But they could help us figure out if this is magic like them, or a mutation, or if…it’s something else. Then you can pack her off to whichever medical facility you think is appropriate.” Tony waved his hand around in the air as if to demonstrate the unknown fears they all shared. “She shape shifts, Bruce. Loki can do that. And the manipulating thoughts and feelings? Maybe she can learn to control it. We need her to control herself and maybe, maybe , if we’re nice enough, she’ll want to help us too.”

“Do we really want Loki to teach her that, how do we know we can trust him?” Bruce cringed, thinking of the havoc the man had wrought, even if he was being manipulated. Loki was powerful, who knew what he could achieve with a little planning. 

“Thor can help keep him in line,” Tony seemed confident and although his confidence was often catching, Bruce still felt the deep simmer of apprehension sitting low in his gut. 

“At least we’re not fighting like last time,” Bruce sighed heavily, the memory of his last encounter with Loki still fresh in his mind. 

“No, but the sexual tension is killing me. We need to end this.” Tony laughed, thinking back to the red faces of his colleagues and their lack of enthusiasm when he suggested they get drunk and play spin the bottle again. 

“Okay, fine, Tony, you win. Call Thor.” Bruce sighed, leaning forward onto the counter and resting his head in his hands.

“And Loki?”

“And Loki."

<;< Masterlist

Part 2>>

[greenerteacups]

Hi! Just wanted to say the latest chapter is lovely & amazing & sweet & had me smiling the whole time! I absolutely love your characterisation of everyone, especially Draco, so it was so so lovely to return to this world & to his thoughts!! with his best friend and crush at malfoy manor no less! All the yearning is already off to a great start hehe I am so excited for the rest of book 5!

Wanted to ask you how has it been for you to write this new book and volume? Has your writing process changed since when you’d first begun taking on a long form project like this?

& also are there any moments or surprises in this book that you’re especially excited about?

sending so much love & gratitude for you and your incredible works 💓

Thank you so much! This is really encouraging, I so appreciate it.

Inasmuch as I can use this metaphor without having kids myself, I sort of see each of the books as a different child. The first one flew out in basically a few weeks of very intensive writing, and it was a total dream — plot, pacing, symbolism, major beats, all fell into place basically without effort. The character stuff was the hardest, as I've written about before, but even then, the glorious part of writing beginnings is it's the most energy you'll ever have for a project, so the lows were pretty soft lows. Book 2, in contrast, I had to drag kicking and screaming by its ankle from under the bottommost mattress of my brain. It's one of my least favorite books (tone problem; COS has killer plot/setting/ingredients for a YA novel, but it's stuck in the doldrums of Harry Potter's well-documented Early-Installment Weirdness, before Cedric Diggory slams the gas and upshifts the whole series into its correct age bracket). More specifically, once I'd gone through and picked out everything in the book that happened because of Lucius, I didn't have a plot — hey alexa how do you rewrite Chamber of Secrets when We Got No Fucking Chamber Of Secrets — and oh by the way, even if you want to do a moody tone/political setup book, remember that your protagonists are still twelve, so if you go too dark or too intense, you'll risk torpedoing your readers' suspension of disbelief. Good luck, Charlie.

Book 3 felt the most like its own novel, if that makes sense? It's the last truly feel-good book of the series; it's a great stand-alone mystery novel with relatively low stakes. Plus you get a bunch of the big series icons: patronuses, dementors, werewolves, Hogsmeade, the Marauders' Map, and time turners arithmancy. It just felt like a good old-fashioned motherfucking romp of a mystery/adventure story, before any of the complex character work and major stakes of the late books come in.

Book 4 was the most fun I've had writing anything maybe ever. I don't even know what it was. Maybe the tournament arc, honestly? Love me a tournament arc. But in any case, I opened every new chapter feeling a tingle of excitement for what I was gonna get to do. Oh, and the romance started, finally, Jesus God (if it feels like a slow burn reading, just imagine what it felt like writing it, when everything takes ten times as long, and you have to figure out how to word the fucker.)

Book 5, in contrast, has felt much less like that tingle of "here we go!" and more like "oh, man, this is gonna be cool." Because this is the arc of the story that composed the original idea for Lionheart, literally years ago, and to be honest, I didn't think I'd get this far! If you'd asked me "do you know that it's going to take you 500,000 words of backstory before you can start writing that concept you're thinking about, and you're going to do it anyway?" I would have said: "absolutely not, strange mind-reader!" But like... I'm here! Finally! And it's... real now? Like, this isn't just a bunch of clips of scenes in my head anymore! That's rad!

That being said, it's definitely been slower than Book 4, because I kept switching back to my outline document to make sure that certain things were set up properly, and that I hadn't lost any of the plot threads or forgotten a minor beat that was vitally important for the story three chapters later. And I had a minor crisis about three months ago when I ripped out about 8 chapters in the first third of the book — basically everything from September to December — because I'd done a readthrough to check pacing (big mistake! never edit while drafting, that's satan talking) and realized I had a missing storyline. Like, there was a whole layer of the story that was just. Missing. Not there. And the existing text really couldn't fit another thread, so instead of taking weeks to pore through and try to sift out what I could save, I needed to factory reset and start over. And I didn't want to! I vividly remember sitting there with my head in my hands, trying not to weep, because I'd decimated 90,000 words of work in a single edit. But it had to be done. Because the story wasn't going to work. And now (hopefully) it will.

And of course, there's still that sense of excitement and exhilaration from before. Always. But whereas Book 4 felt like a delicious chocolate pudding, Book 5 is a medium-rare steak.

(Book 6, so far, is four shots of espresso and a whiskey chaser. FWIW.)

[odiesdayoff]

The Winner Is...

pair: Robert Fischer x fem!reader

summary: Robert Fischer's stuck judging this year's Miss America Pageant. That doesn't mean he can't use his position to his advantage.

warnings: extremely dubious consent!! (heed the warnings!); mean/condescending Robert Fischer; anal; blowjobs; deepthroating; unprotected sex; a bit of misogyny; power imbalance

made reader from Georgia because I've been watching a lot of Kim of Queens. I've never written a lot of this before so I hope you can enjoy <3 this is also on Ao3 so yea... feedback always appreciated!

but also your consumption is your fault so if you don't like the content well then you should not have skipped/ignored the warnings

ALSO happy valentine's day from me :)

“In your opinion, what is a way that young women can lead successful lives in traditionally male-dominated professions?” Miss America from 2003 spoke clearly into the microphone. She wore her winning sash across her chest and a sparkling dress. 

On her left, a former professional basketball player crossed her arms and sat back. She won the finals for her team two years in a row and now she was stuck judging brainless, but beautiful women being asked sexist questions in the veil of feminism and the uplifting of women. It didn’t matter, though. She was getting paid.

On the right of Miss America 2003, Robert Fischer leaned on the judge’s table with his hands folded. Ever since he fumbled the business deal with Eclipse Solutions, Maurice thought that the best form of punishment was to take his spot as a judge in this competition. Initially, Robert thought that it wasn’t much of a punishment, but after a long week of nonstop noise and hearing these women yap about how they were going to change the world, he understood why his father made him. 

The hard-on he was sporting towards the beginning of the competition was long gone. He couldn’t bear to look at any of them anymore. Even during the swimsuit portion, for God’s sake.

Your smile never fell. The swimsuit you chose emphasized your breasts and slimmed your waist. Saying that you chose it was an exaggeration, your coach said that if you could catch the eyes of Fischer and Johnson, who your coach was convinced was a lesbian, you would have it in the bag. You still weren’t too sure about it. Knowing that your body was getting exposed to millions of people over the television was enough to raise your anxiety.

Attempting to not look like a total fool, you took a deep breath and nodded in response to her question. “Well, as someone who is in the career path of accounting, I have faced a lot of adversarial coworkers and peers. I believe that the best way that young women can gain success is to keep their self-confidence and never stop allowing themselves to learn and grow both professionally and personally. The best way to prove your doubters wrong is to excel in the path that you choose.” You weren’t exactly sure what you were saying, but you had hoped that it came across as something really intelligent to the judges. This was a question you had practiced for so long with your coach, but your mind drew a blank. 

Robert held back a laugh or at least a scoff. There’s no way he would hire you. With a face like that and the way you spoke, there’s no way that you knew how to do anything within the range of taxes or money. Probably a case of affirmative action, he was sure. Either that or you sucked the right man’s dick to get to where you were now. 

Miss America 2003 grinned. “Thank you, Miss Georgia. What a lovely way of thinking. I wish you the best of luck! Mr. Fischer, do you have a question?”

Robert’s bright blue eyes pierced into yours, despite the fair amount of distance from each other. He leaned into his mic. “Do you believe that you get respected more or less because of your appearance?”

The question felt like a double-edged sword. The last thing the general public wanted to hear was that you thought you were beautiful. It weirded people out to acknowledge your beauty, according to your coach.

“While I do think that appearance does affect the way that strangers treat others, it’s in your personality and how you treat others that matters. For me, it doesn’t matter what someone looks like for me to respect them. People that base how they treat others based on looks aren’t worth your time.” You had only hoped that the foundation you had on was holding back the sweat threatening to fall down your forehead. Robert Fischer had been asking the most condescending and borderline rude questions to everyone. It was bound to happen to you, too.

“Mm. Thank you.” He didn’t look amused.

Music began to play and the audience cheered. You smiled again at the judges' table before leaving the stage in the T walk. Once you were off stage and out of sight of both the judges and the audience, you let out a sigh and released the way that you were sucking in your stomach. You had been doing pageants like this ever since you were a little girl and now, your dream of being in this competition was real. Why did it feel so humiliating?

There was only one final day. It was the evening gown portion and the announcement of Miss America for the year. After that, you could finally relax. That is, unless you won and would immediately have to start your training for Miss Universe. Maybe you didn’t want to relax, after all. 

By the time the sun fell, most of the contestants were either spending their last night together in their hotel rooms and doing spa nights while the rest decided to go out to the clubs. You were advised not to befriend any of them by your coach to avoid feeling guilty when you eventually won and they lost. Now, you were alone at a nearby bar nursing a beer and listening to the band playing. It was a cover band of The Killers. Mr. Brightside was the current song getting butchered by the young singer.

It was freeing to be out of dresses and swimsuits and finally not showing off your body. You wore loose jeans and a top with a jacket over it. If they didn’t know you, nobody would even know that you were who you were.

You felt someone sit next to you. In a bar of several open seats, of course, they chose the one basically on top of you. They waved the bartender down and ordered a whiskey. The voice was familiar, one that was ringing in your head all day. You faced him to confirm your suspicions. Robert fucking Fischer.

The drink in your hand was what you tried to focus on. “Not very talkative off stage, huh?” It would be rude to ignore him, you knew that. 

You shrugged. “My social battery is drained.” While it was partially the truth, he was the last person you wanted to be speaking to. 

“You know,” he swirled the whiskey in his glass, “it’s between you and Miss California.” He took a generous sip of his drink as he let the information sink in. 

Excitement and guilt mixed in your stomach. “You shouldn’t say that. We shouldn’t even be speaking, Mr. Fischer.” You finished your drink and stood from the barstool. His hand wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from taking a step away.

“You wanna win, don’t you?” You sat back down, mostly involuntarily, and met his eyes with your own again. They were almost hypnotizing. “I can make that happen.”

“What do you mean?” Questions ran through your head. Was he asking for a bribe? Maybe he had some sort of bet running on you winning.

He smirked at the sight of your intrigue. “This whole competition’s about who’s the best woman, right? They’re still forgetting about the most important thing that makes a woman.” He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath against your skin. “How well they can fuck.”

You waited a moment to make sure that he was being serious, hoping that he wasn’t. The lustful look in his eyes didn’t tell you that he was joking at all. “You’re disgusting.”

“Even if I am, I’m the deciding factor on whether you go down in history as a winner or as nobody at all.” He finished his drink and stood up, fixing his tie. “Johnson likes you. Miss 2003 wants California. It’s all up to me.”

If he was lying, rejecting him wouldn’t mean much in the long run. If he wasn’t, you probably would’ve spent the rest of your life regretting taking him to bed. “Someone will see us going to the hotel together.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you one of his room keys. “Room 704. Wait ten minutes and then come up.” Without saying another word, he dropped some cash on the bar for his drink and left.

The room key felt heavy in your hand. Was winning worth anything if it wasn’t honest? He better have a decent-sized dick if you were really going to do this. 

You felt a hand tap your shoulder. “Y/n L/n? Oh my god, I’m such a big fan! I’ve been watching the whole pageant with my daughter, she loves you!” A woman shook your hand, feeling a bit too formal. The guilt grew in your stomach. How could you be a role model for little girls like this? “Can I have a picture?”

Despite your appearance, you nodded. The room key burned a hole in your pocket as you fixed your hair and took a picture with the woman. Hopefully, the dim light of the bar made you look better than you felt. 

It had already been fifteen minutes since Robert had left. You finally paid for your drink and headed for the hotel. With each step, your anxiety grew. The elevator rose to the seventh floor and you stopped in front of 704. Instead of knocking, you pulled the room key out and inserted it into the door. The light flashed green and you pushed it open. 

Robert was sitting at the edge of the bed without his clothes, stroking himself and staring at the door until you finally walked in. “You’re late.” You kept your eyes around his, trying to prevent yourself from looking any lower.

“I got caught up with something.” You took your jacket off and laid it on the office chair. Given his state of undress, you weren’t entirely sure whether or not you should strip now or wait for his instruction. He seemed like the type who was obsessed with control, especially in the bedroom. The last thing you needed was for him to get angry with you over something so trivial and ruin your chances.

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you don’t really want this, don’t you? To win?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “I want it.”

He pointed to the floor right in front of him and spread his knees further apart. You didn’t respond, knowing it was most likely for nothing, and knelt in front of him. For the way that he acted, you would assume it was because he was overcompensating. God, you were wrong.

His free hand grabbed hold of your hair and pushed your head closer to his aching cock. He leaned back. “You’re not gonna win just by looking at it.” You held back from commenting on his attitude and kissed the blushing red tip, the same color as his lips. 

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his head, allowing his precum and your saliva to mix. After hearing the slightest moan of pleasure from him, which was an exhale at best, you took a few inches of him into your mouth. His hand in your hair guided you back and forth along his length.

“That’s all you’re gonna take? I think you could do much better than that.” He taunted, not pushing you down and wanting you to do it voluntarily. “Or, I could just call down Miss California. She’d love to deepthroat me.”

You tried to relax your throat and took him deeper. He was big, much bigger than what you were used to, but you could take him. You inched deeper until your nose pressed against his lower stomach and your breathing was constricted. “Atta girl.” He smelled like the generic body soap the hotel offered with a mix of his cologne. If you could focus on breathing through your nose and sucking him off the best you could, this would be over quickly.

Hearing his heavy breathing and attempts to hide his whimpers sent shockwaves down your spine. You felt the warmth growing in between your legs the more you pleasured him. “I’m about to cum. You’ll swallow, right?”

While you couldn’t answer, you made a sound of agreement that vibrated down your throat. You’d need to do some vocal treatment and tea tonight so you still could speak tomorrow. “Fuck.” He gripped your hair tighter as he came, ropes of cum shooting down your throat.

He finally pulled out once he had fully finished. You wiped a trail of cum and spit from your lips and looked up to him. “Not bad. Though, I’ve had much better. I guess I overestimated you. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

“What does that mean?” You cocked a brow. It felt even more humiliating considering your position in front of him and the way that you could still taste the remnants of his semen coating your throat. 

“Oh, come on. You get a high-paying job straight out of college at a Big 4? You’re either a genius, which I doubt considering half of the answers you’ve given so far, or you’ve slept your way into the job. Now, strip for me.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was like he’d already convinced himself of his theories, even though they were far from the truth. Couldn’t imagine that a woman like you could make her way up the corporate ladder without the help of rich and successful parents. 

There was no use in arguing, you told yourself and took your clothes off until you were standing naked in front of him. “How exactly is the winner chosen? Aren’t there scoresheets? You’re making it sound like it’s entirely based on personal preference.”

He laughed, this time, a genuine one. “Scoresheets are arbitrary. We make those up to align with who we like the best.” He gestured to the bed behind him with his head as he stood. You followed his order and sat on the edge where he had previously been. His tongue flicked around his lips as he got a good look at you, sitting there so obediently for him. “Didn’t even touch you yet and you’re already dripping.” 

You gave him your best version of doe eyes that you could, following the instruction of your coach. She always said that facial expressions were the most important aspect of impressing someone. If you could read the person and make yourself into their ideal partner, they’d be putty in your hands. Robert seems to like to be in charge and superior, but there was an underlying hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the desire to be nurtured? 

“Can’t imagine you’ll feel that good. Not as tight as you used to be, hm?” He took hold of your knees and separated them enough for his hips to fit. He was slowly getting harder again and you felt his tip nudge your clit before gathering your arousal on himself. “How do you think we can remedy that?”

He jerked himself off using your slick, then moved the tip to settle against your ass. You immediately stiffened against him and put your hands against his chest. “No. I don’t do that.”

He groaned and took a step away from you. “Little Miss Georgia Peach is too good to take it up the ass? I’m trying to help you win, but I guess you don’t care.” He picked up your discarded clothes and tossed them to you. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the hotel phone and began to dial a number. He checked his watch. The person he was dialing answered. “Yeah, hi. Annie? I need you to do something for me. If you could-” You almost leaped towards the phone and pressed the button, ending the call. Annie was Miss California, he didn’t even need to continue the call for you to understand what he was doing.

“I’ll let you!” You were nearly out of breath, your voice hoarse.

He had to hide his smile from his plan working. “No, sweetheart. You have to ask me for it. Specifically.”

“I want you to fuck my ass, Robert.” You gulped. If this wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t be begging him like this.

“Turn around.” Once you turned, his hands were on your waist and his tip rested against your ass. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, gathering arousal, and then re-lubed his cock. You’d done this before, but it wasn’t something you necessarily enjoyed. The pain outweighed the pleasure. You just needed to breathe through it.

Your hands gripped the sheets below once his head was inside your tight hole. He slowly pushed further inside until he bottomed out. The white, hot pain was rippling through your body. You focused on inhaling and exhaling and continuing to hold tightly to the bedsheets.

He offered you some mercy, moving only after about ten seconds of being inside. After that, he fucked you as he pleased, entirely ignoring how you might’ve been feeling. You were gonna be sore tomorrow. “Fuck, this is how Miss America should feel.”

He pushed your face into the bed so that he could get a better angle and began to fuck into you roughly, rutting into you like he’d die if he didn’t cum within the next few minutes. 

Confusion surrounded you when he pulled out and you felt a sudden emptiness. Not that you were complaining. He flipped you to your back and you could barely process what he was doing before his hot cum was spurting onto your breasts and stomach.

He pushed his hair back and caught his breath, taking a step away from you. “Get dressed and leave. I’ve got some calls to make.”

You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at his confirmation of your win. Maybe it was the orgasm that had never reached climax. Either way, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow. 

~~

Pins pricked against your soft skin as they held parts of your evening gown together. Lights glare on you and your competitors on the stage. It took a lot of your might to not show the extreme soreness that you felt between your legs. You knew that if you were to touch your breasts or tighten the dress a bit more, you’d only be pushing further against the bruises Robert had given you.

The man in question sat in his chair with the other two judges, arms crossed as usual. He barely gave you a passing glance, instead, he focused on discussing things with the judges or looking at the other contestants. Maybe it was just a ploy to not make it seem like he already knew who was going to win. Certainly, that was it. 

The announcer walked on the stage from the judge’s panel with an envelope in his hand. That envelope had your name on it, you knew. He was an irrelevant game show host that you remembered watching when you were home sick from school as a child. Whatever paid the bills.

You kept your award-winning smile on while the announcer took his microphone and began to speak about how the competition was the opposite of what most people thought when it came to beauty pageants. Mostly pandering and filibustering so that the program would be able to run another round of advertisements when they played it on cable. 

“Well, I have in my hand the name of Miss America of this year. Without further ado, why don’t I open it and save these women some anxiety?” He laughed at his own joke while the audience cheered. 

Miss California stood next to you on your left and Miss Connecticut on your right. As per tradition, you held hands with them while the announcer opened the envelope of the winner. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they were going to lose.

The envelope was open. The announcer leaned into the microphone. “And the new Miss America is…Miss California!”

It was as if you were seeing things in black and white. Confetti fell from the ceiling and Miss California dropped your hand to receive her flowers and sash. You knew that crying would make you look bad, like a sore loser, but that’s the only thing that you felt like doing. You forced a smile and clapped for her.

Robert clapped for the winner, though his cold stare was on you. What you’d never forget was the smile plastered on his face. 

He had won.

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

the boys as bodyguards

dedicated to absolutely no one. sure this is an asks blog - does that mean i have to actually answer them? i know i know bad admins bad admins whatcha gonna do whatcha gonna do when they come for you but i had a dream ages ago now that involved bodyguards, tsunamis, and also a shit ton of murder. don't ask. anyway, it got me pondering. and then it took literal months to write this so i figured i'd post what i've got so far, and maybe i'll update with the rest of the boys later, depending on how well this does/how much time i have

hanamiya makoto

hanamiya’s the package deal

he’s the chief advisor; he’s the doctor; he’s the bodyguard; he’s the sniper. just a right hand man in every way possible.

i mean, he’s not literally your right hand man: he’s the leader of a team, and often it’ll be one of his men there next to you at events, but he’s always supervising or coordinating or collecting intel

ie he’s dedicated to his job. he does like engineering spider’s webs after all.

having said that, he’s also an uncontrollable prick

he’s the best at giving you advice, both in terms of navigating high society and in terms of actual business advice, but is he going to give that advice without slipping in a snide comment about how you should really know all this by now? when you tell him to make sure to take a break some time, is he going to stop himself from saying “maybe if you weren’t so incredibly useless on your own, i’d be able to.”

and sure maybe he’s breaking the universal declaration of human rights with what he does to the people who dare to try harm you, but you don’t know about that

need to know basis type beat

you don’t even have access to the full floor plans of your own property, which includes a basement you’ll never know about, let alone step foot in. hanamiya keeps that information very close to his chest.

gotta make sure his employer has plausable deniability

gotta make double sure that you don’t find out about half the things he does - from the ways he sources his information, to his very dodgy organised crime links, to the number of people that have sadly lost their lives in the name of “fuck it, you’re pissing me off” - because he hates when you bang on about bullshit like “laws” and “morals”

after all, if everyone followed your beloved laws and morals, then you’d have no need for his services

as he always tells you, he’s just your pet necessary evil

yamazaki hiroshi

i reckon he only got into the bodyguard business because he spent his childhood wanting to be a samurai but, well you know, that’s not really a job opportunity anymore

what it does mean though is that he’s all about bushido: mastering his work, bravery, honesty, etc - and above all else loyalty to one’s employer

on a random thursday afternoon, he’ll tell you, completely nonchalantly, straight face, “i would die for you if that’s what it takes. on my life, i’ll always keep you safe.”

you’re staring at him like wtf and/or trying to stop yourself blushing, but he thinks that’s a completely normal thing to say cause he’s just following bushido

of course, late one night, he’ll wake up realise how weird that came across and he’ll spend the next week trying not to blush whenever you talk to him

just like the time he spent a week kicking himself after you walked in on him training, shirtless and rather sweaty, and when you told him he should take a break, he said “but i need to train so my body can be at its best for you”

again, at the time that sounded very reasonable, serious, and totally bushido to him. it’s only later that he’s freaking out in his room like why in god’s name did he say that.

but hey that’s bodyguard!yamazaki for you. a little weird, a little socially inept, but loyal to a fault

haizaki shougo

can you imagine the number of jobs that this man has lost for sleeping on the job?

he’s only got his current gig looking after you because his prices are cheaper and you were getting desperate to find someone in your budget

he’s a ...uhh… unique bodyguard? in the sense that he’ll get you out of harms way eventually, but "eventually" is the key word there

haizaki actively ignores intel that a certain location might be dangerous, because he really just wants to get into fights. sure you might get in the way occasionally, maybe even get some nasty bruises, but hey you get what you pay for.

you want a good bodyguard, save up some money, idiot.

literally the only reason he got into being a bodyguard is so he can beat people up legally (and because he got dishourably discharged from the military); he doesn’t care that much about the whole ‘protecting’ side of things

he’s also the type to ditch you the minute a better paying job comes up (possibly combat work as a mercenary). however he’s not as cold-hearted as he may seem, and he’ll happily spend a day of leave breaking into your penthouse

so that when you return in the evening, he’s there sat on an armchair, grinning smugly, “man your security’s turned to shit since i left.”

shortly followed by, “miss me?”

jason silver

jason’s the quintessential bodyguard, cause, after all, having a very muscular 6’11 man follow you everywhere you go isn’t exactly subtle

but he’s recognisable for other reasons as well.

like the fact that he’ll accompany you to formal balls, and he’ll be the only man there with an undone tie - it’s such a massive argument trying to get him to wear an appropriate suit instead of his usual hoodies and sweatpants, that can anyone blame you for not having the energy to insist he stops undoing his tie as well?

he’s also not exactly one for professionality. like you’ll be minding your business, trying to network, and suddenly you’ll hear a wolf whistle by your ear and a “wouldn’t mind me a bit of that”

“jason, that’s the ambassador to norway. we’re having her over for dinner next week, so, with all due respect, shut the fuck up. and whisper next time, for heaven’s sake! what if someone had heard you?”

“shit, is it a crime to like some nice tits in this economy?”

and when you glare at him, genuinely furious, he grins, puts his hands up, and says, “sorry, sorry. forgot you don’t like me having eyes for anyone else, boss.”

but don’t get me wrong, jason’s not all evil contra to fujimaki’s propaganda

he is an incredibly good bodyguard - those animal instincts really help him out when it comes to getting you out of a sniper’s line of sight, or saving you from a bullet, or just assessing a room for potential entry points. and he packs a mean punch if anyone tries to try something on you, a solid ko.

no one’s getting past him essentially

the only problem is that it’s incredibly difficult to thank jason for saving your life, cause the last thing he needs is an ego boost or feeling like you owe him.

“seriously jason. i don’t know how i can ever repay you.”

“usually the payslip’s enough,” he smirks, “but you know that little lady ambassador-“

unsuprisingly, he’s not invited to the dinner.

[perfidious-prophet]

The fucking things they dont tell you when you fucking start Testosterone.

Yeah, everybody knows about the deeper voice and the dreaded asshair, but these were my unfunny little surprises after 3 months on T. Reminder that shit will always vary from person to person because we're not all clones of each other, whatever.

1. Bottom growth fucking hurts. Sometimes I don't want to wear pants. I knew it would happen, didn't know it'd be so uncomfortable. And it starts fast. Like first dose fast.

2. The irritability goes fucking CRAZY it's like I'm constantly PMSing. I get why dudes punch walls. Oh my god. I know how to keep my anger wraps, but holy shit.

3. On the topic of PMSing. I had temporary worsening of menstrual cramps. Jesus fuck. I was having pain before menstruation started for days, and sometimes just randomly. I hope it doesn't flare up, but it seems to be calming down now. I think my body is freaking out over weird hormone levels.

4. Vocal fatigue. Talking hurts. I expected voice cracks, obviously, but why the fuck does this shit hurt? I don't even want to talk that much anymore. My voice just gives out. It's still deepening, so a win is a win, I guess.

5. Apathy, emptiness, anhedonia, and numbness. My motivation has tanked. I don't fucking care anymore. I just want people to leave me alone so I can take a nap. I already had mental issues before starting T, and I don't think T gave this to me, but it's definitely changed how I feel my mental illnesses. I have to like relearn how to cope and shit. I don't recommend starting hormones if you're an emotionally unstable dumbass like myself. This is literally second puberty, mood swings and teen angst included. I am a volatile, angry little man.

6. Anxiety. Like I said, teen angst. My panic attacks now include intense nausea, which is New and Uncool. Dunno why that happened. But I'm just nervous. There's nothing to be nervous about. I consistently feel like I've forgotten to do homework. I am not even in school anymore. Rad!

7. Psychosis? I had my first intense psychotic break at 14. It lasted 6 months, give or take. I've had shorter episodes on and off since then. My symptoms are stress based. The emotional strain is, naturally, pushing me towards the edge again. I am sure I will explode brilliantly and violently within the weeks to come.

8. Male loneliness is real dudes. Have friends.

9. It's harder to mask. I've been periodically going mute again. I'd never really stopped, but it's more frequent now.

Anyway that's my rant I think.

I'm not telling you not to do hormones. I'm not your dad. But it's not fucking easy. Anyway I have no intention of stopping. I am thuggin that shit out. I had a really really tough time during first puberty, and I suspect I'm going to have issues the second time around.

I am happy with the changes I am experiencing physically. I still feel confident and sure of my identity as a trans man. I am just not very happy about losing control over my mental state again. We'll see how it goes. If I'm lucky, I'll get medicated. I can't afford a therapist right now.

Good luck out there, whoever you are.

[rainbowonice]

I'm barely hanging by a thread with this show.

The amount of PR that Oliver has done about Bucks storyline and Buddie has been overkill. To the point, where of Buddie doesn't happen after talking about it so much that headlines and clickbait have been created, they're going to look like they've just been shipbaiting to pull in the viewers!

Tommy and the homophobe/transphobe need to go. Lou's weird "thriving" video gives me the impression they're deffo not thriving! And the other one needs to go for obvious fucking reasons!

The whole Bi storyline would've been better coming from Eddie. They could've had Buck single and Eddie discovering himself like it was originally going to be. It would've been so much more interesting to watch!

But I do think the fact that the season only has 10 episodes has put a damper on things, too!

oh i agree with everything!!! it's definitely giving shipbait (for now) i feel like Oliver is saying unhinged Buddie stuff because, in his prospective, they can't really call him out for queerbaiting anymore, since Buck is canon bi now. But I really hope I'm wrong and that he actually knows that Buddie is endgame or something!

I'm still conflicted about Lou video to be honest, I'd rather if he wasn't there at all lmao but if he's there just to make things awkward and they are really NOT thriving then i Could be ok with it. for the Edy situation... idk how she even got in s7 to begin with, i know it's because Natalia actress wasn't available and Tim didn't want both of them to start off as single but they could have just went with a replacement and no one would have noticed 💀 big hope is that she will be bones before the season finale tho! No one likes her and the foreshadowing about them breaking up has been crazy (never date someone you met on a call, bobby convo etc)

Anon you have no idea I've been terrorizing my bestie about EddieTommy for WEEKS i still wouldn't like Tommy as a character but it would have made so much more sense and it would have been way more groundbreaking than BuckTommy! if episode 100 have zero haters I'm dead I REALLY HATE the whole execution and how they switched characters and keep making Buck and Eddie interchangeable cuz that will never be right and it will never sit well with me for various reasons (racism is the racism). And I've been wanting Buck to be single for the longest time let the man be alone and get to know himself for the love of God!

This season worst problem is that they are writing it as they go and they are really rushing things and you can really tell that they have no idea where the plot is going and the season being only 10 episodes make it so much worse :( hope season 8 will save us from this hell but if the last 5 episodes of the season don't get any better idk if i will survive to watch season 8 they are really making it hard for me and I've been watching the show since 2019!

Also i want to thank you for sending me your thoughts! I got so excited when i saw an ask in my inbox 🥰 this is a safe space for hating! I'm a yapper and a hater!!

[sserapic]

maybe in another world, my dearest.

summary. getting into a relationship with the balladeer was your greatest mistake, though you don't regret anything that had happened between you. after taking the side of the good guys, he just never felt the love he used to feel every damn time he sees you. but if you couldn't handle the pain then you shouldn't feel it anymore, altering your memories of him is such a great idea. you say.

character(s). scaramouche/wanderer, gn!reader

tw. angst, no happy ending.

"come on, traveler, lead me to him."

you had convinced lumine that you're the lover of scaramouche, well, ex-lover. she hesitated despite the fact that you're a harbinger in which you couldn't be trusted very easily.

scaramouche sat there, under a tree, in the grass where he admired the view from up there. "wanderer." wanderer? had he changed identities?

he was certainly in shock to see you, well he should be, he left you in the dark and never came back which led you to search for him.

"oh, it's you."

you noticed how the traveler had left as you sat next to the former harbinger who you used to fought alongside with, who loved you so dearly but changed so damn quick.

"so, wanderer is the name you go with now?"

"yep."

even up until now you wish that he'd just fall in love with you all over again and come back to you, but you both know it wouldn't even work out anymore even if he did come back to you, the feeling left him but yours never escaped.

"y/n, you do not have to make yourself suffer like this. just go back to being the harbinger you are, but im afraid i cannot stand beside you any longer."

you fought back the tears trying to break free from your eyes, "but i cant. i always need you by my side." you sniff, refusing to even look his way.

"you have to, you can't just cry about me all the time. you're the 5th of the fatui harbingers, there's a chance that we might be each other's opponents someday."

the thought of him taking the side of the good guys while you stayed with the villains hurts like fuck. but somehow, you also cannot betray the tsaritsa.

"why does it hurt so much.." your voice muffled from covering your face with both hands, not wanting him to look at you, crying.

"because the love you had for me was genuine, and so was mine. but ive already moved on, neither will mine come back even if we get back together."

he stood up, lending you a hand.

as soon as you got back to your feet you pulled him close and sobbed in his chest, he let you sob your pain out, ignoring the fact that you're ruining his clothes.

"the traveler has mentioned that nahida can alter memories, is she telling the truth."

"yes, but wh-"

"can you please just make her erase mine?"

"y/n i don-"

"please.."

although he had to make sure that the God of Wisdom was alright with helping a harbinger, he agreed and so did nahida. she was honestly touched and wounded from hearing about you and sc- the wanderer.

he wished to stay and observe how nahida erases him from your memories and will forever be an enemy in your eyes once this finishes.

"one last time, y/n. are you okay with this."

you nodded, glancing at your ex lover one last time. if the Gods ever allow you to live once more, at least let it be with him.

"here we go."

tears started streaming down on your cheek as you closed your eyes, and felt weird seconds later. your eyes opened and observed the unfamiliar place you were in, turning your attention to a certain man beside you who was on the verge of tearing up.

maybe in another world, y/n. i will love you with all i have, that's a promise.

now he just has to watch you from afar, knowing that he would forever be the opponent of the side you've always been with. as much as he wanted to grab his feelings back, he couldn't.

note. hey !! this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now, and this is actually inspired by a genshin oneshots book in Wattpad ! also about the smau, i commented on the second chapter. please take a look at it if you're waiting for an update on the smau !

[larcenywrites]

hcs with young tony and female reader and accidental pregnancy 👀 but everyone is overjoyed with the pregnancy, the couple, his parents and her parents, everybody really happy!! I can't stop imagining young tony being a father and the baby needs to be born with a cute nose like his 🥹🥹🥹

omg omg omg I was thinking about this so long ago but wasn't sure what I wanted to do with it aaah ❤ it starts off not very excited but it gets better I swear lol

Warnings: mild sexual references | pregnancy stuff obviously

Surprise Pregnancy

💠It was bound to happen, honestly. One day you let him get away with finishing inside you, and suddenly he didn't know what a condom was anymore! Not to mention this man can't pull out to save his life 😒 Not that you mind all that much in the moment... but you're pretty sure he doesn't think twice about the actual probability of getting you pregnant 🙄 So as soon as your period is late, you're pretty sure you know why.

💠Maybe you're overreacting! Sometimes it's late and nothing ever comes of it! But when you wait two weeks and only wake up with nausea every morning instead of a period... well, hopefully the only one throwing up in the toilet will be Tony

💠It suddenly feels a bit weird walking into his house so normally. Walking by his parents as you always have and finding Tony nearly asleep in his bed. You hadn't exactly warned him that you were stopping by, and when the first words out of your mouth are a nervous "Can we talk?" , he's wide awake, and already knows he's done something

💠Luckily you don't let his mind race for long. "Tony, I think I'm pregnant."

💠Oh, so that's what he did...

💠"You-" he cuts himself off, still processing and slowly getting to his feet. "Okay, uh-" You've broken him. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what to say first. He can't think and he hasn't decided what to feel yet but neither have you, so- "I can go get, like, a test? Or something?" He says it quietly, eyes wide and confused. At least he knows he's just as much a part of this as you are. He's trying to help, really. It probably feels like he's been gone for ages when he leaves. He probably has been! Maybe you shouldn't have trusted him to find a pregnancy test, but you'd rather not do any of this alone.

💠You're more than relived when he slinks back in, bag in hand, and you can only hope his parents didn't see anything suspicious. And thank god it's actually a pregnancy test in the bag- you never doubted him! He doesn't take his eyes off you as you rip the box open and take out that little stick, and he realizes that he never thought he'd be in this situation.

💠You're quietly cuddled up on the bed while you wait for however many minutes the box said. You're both stiff and unmoving, unsure what to feel or think because neither of you are communicating. But you're well aware of the strong arms wrapped around you so perfectly, right above your hips.

💠"Do you want me to go look at it?" He mumbles quietly. You nod. Again, it's not something you're willing to face alone, but he's already proven that you don't have to. And again, he keeps you waiting. Surely even he can figure out the difference between one line or two! Just when you sit up at the edge of the bed, ready to do it yourself, he finally emerges. He takes your hands in his, and you're pretty sure you already know the answer when you look up at him.

💠"It was positive," he whispers. "What do you wanna do?"

💠You can hardly whisper back. "What if I wanna keep it?" You weren't sure what to expect from him, but he nodded. His short sigh of relief and small smile released all the tension in your body, letting you smile for the first time since you found out. You had been happy about it, but not knowing what Tony would think was nervewracking.

💠After the initial shock wears off, you're both all smiles and kisses, and at some point he's trapped you against the bed in an engulfing hug, face buried in your neck.

💠You'll both agree that you might want to wait to tell anyone. At least to get an ultrasound first and prepare a game plan, but as soon as Tony sees that little blob on the screen and it has a heartbeat?? He's more than ready to tell his mom all about it 😍

💠But Tony will admit to you that he's a bit wary of his dad :( It's just... Howard was once smacking RC cars out of an eight-year-old Tony's hands and yelling at him to play with his toys somewhere else, and even now the two are still known for their altercations-- especially now that Tony has to very quickly learn how to actually grow up (and he doesn't even know about this yet). You can't really blame him, but you're pretty sure that his father wouldn't do that to his grandson. But it's not just that, he's pretty sure telling his dad that you're pregnant is going to end in very loud conversation between the two, and he doesn't want to stress you out :(

💠When you do finally decide you're ready, he's by your side and holding your hand. Honestly, he's probably the one that says it first!

💠Maria is probably squealing in delight and pulling you both in for a hug! Honestly she's always happy and excited for anything, so she'll be your biggest support through the pregnancy, and she'll probably be pulling out all of Tony's old pictures on the spot 🧡 If you ever have any questions or concerns, she's more than willing to hear you out- hell, if you think a doctor isn't listening to you but you're too passive to keep pushing the issue, just bring her along to your next appointment and she'll sort 'em out! And probably recommend someone else. The same midwives that delivered her son will most likely deliver her grandson, too 😅

💠Howard and Tony never see eye to eye anyway, and considering he's always on his ass about being irresponsible and lazy and childish, you can probably imagine exactly how not excited he is about this. He's not upset at you, but with Tony for knocking you up when you're both hardly 20, and his son isn't exactly ideal father material in a parent's eyes. While you and Maria are happily conversing in the living area, Howard manages to get Tony in the backyard for a stern but surprisingly respectful conversation, and a begrudging hand on his shoulder in place of a hug. Well, it still went better than he thought it would...

💠Don't worry, he'll will warm up to the idea of grandchildren (mostly with his wife's persistent excitement), but he may not really show it. Instead, Maria will let you know when it was actually Howard who picked out that little outfit or had the idea to have those quilts made 😌

💠Your parents might not be so excited at first, either. Tony's probably only just graduated college and hardly has a plan, but at least he comes from plenty of money? And with all that skill and name he can find a job anywhere if he just, ya know, actually tried 😅 It's obvious that he is taking responsibility and has always been by your side, so... they'll get past it! And poor Tony might have to get through yet another awkward conversation, but this time with your dad. Your dad is already a lot more supportive, at least, and just as you can turn to his mom for comfort and advice, Tony can turn to your dad 🥹

💠And we can't forget about Jarvis since he practically did the other half of Tony's raising 🥺 He won't really break the whole "calm butler" persona, but he's proudly smiling ear to ear when he says "Congratulations, sir." While he can rest assured that this time he won't have to chase down another Tony every day nor raise this one, he does miss having a little Stark around to wreak havoc 💛

💠There's suddenly a ton of things on his to-do list, but he's making a house his number one priority (with the help of that Stark money... What? His parents aren't gonna make you guys live just anywhere 💅). While someone's parents probably wouldn't mind, Tony really wants his own privacy for his own family, ya know? But he won't say no to his mom staying over for that first week or two to help you guys out 😮‍💨

💠He's like one of those cats that suddenly never leave their owner's side when they're pregnant. When you start showing, he can't keep his hands off of you! Well, he couldn't really keep his hands off you before (hence the situation you're in), but he just wants to be near you! Wherever you go, he wants to go too! Whatever you want, he wants to try really hard to get it for you! He also just really wants to make sure you know he's there for you, and can and will do anything! He's pretty worried that his dad is right and that he's not exactly an ideal candidate to be raising a kid, and worried that you might feel the same :( So he overcompensates by being overbearing. He even follows you into the shower! It will get annoying, but try not to snap at him too hard unless you want him to sulk around. His mom will probably notice and get on his ass about it before you do anyway 😅

💠You can already trust him to be a great dad, though! Already so protective and worried, and still so in love with you, if not more!

💠A hand is always on your tummy because he really really really wants to feel the baby kick! Everyone talks about how you can feel the baby kicking, so why isn't his little Stark kicking him yet?? Even you've talked about it, but it might be another week before he gets his chance 💔 He'll be so excited when he does feel those fluttering kicks! You always get to feel those signs of life, so it's the closest he can get to sharing that experience until your due date.

💠Besides, of course, getting to hear the heartbeat and getting those black and white ultrasounds! Speaking of which, he has to show off every photo the nurse takes of little Stark! Aaaand while your parents have the cuter ones of your son sucking his thumb or waving pinned to the fridge, Tony puts up the one where that little hand only has a middle finger raised 🫥

💠Okay it is kinda cute...

💠The closer you get to nine months and the more nervous he gets. He's also excited! But he realizes he barely ever learned how to take care of himself, and now he has to look after you and a baby?? He was so caught up in the excitement for so long, and now it feels like reality is crashing down very hard and he doesn't know what to do because he doesn't want to stress you out and he doesn't want to get yelled at and-

💠You're fast asleep in an array of pillows and half in-half out of the sheets. You don't seem so worried. He has to take a deep breath and remind himself that if you aren't worried, then he shouldn't be either. You're the one that's been putting all your love and trust into him, even before you got pregnant. He doesn't know if that makes him more or less stressed, but he knows you'll make him feel better with no questions asked ❤️‍🩹

💠You can't really be mad when he "accidentally" wakes you up on some nights because he's crawling his way under your arms and tucking himself under your chin. Or when you suddenly have him lying on your chest and tiny feet kicking your ribs. As much fun as it's been (and nervewracking), these nights will have you more than ready for your due date.

💠He doesn't really know what to expect in that delivery room, but he follows you in anyway and awkwardly switches between standing around and sitting. It's... boring. No one told him there would be so much waiting around! He was prepared for like, an instant nightmare, but instead you're just easing in and out of contractions or something? Ah, this doesn't seem so bad!

💠He's half-way through one of those kind of gross Jell-O cups and half asleep when you're suddenly very panicked and nurses are finally moving around. And now he has an oh shit moment as the nightmare part starts.

💠He should hold your hand! That's what they do in the movies, right? Well it sounds like a good idea, but ow you're really hurting him but he doesn't want you to know that, so he'll stand there like he's perfectly fine 😭 Thank god once it starts, it's over just as quick because he couldn't have taken any more of that

💠Ngl he's standing at your side and sulking into his Jell-O while the baby cries, and luckily you're too out of it to slap him for it 🤧

💠The spoon is still in his mouth when he's suddenly asked and ushered over to cut the cord and he probably gags a little, but it's fine, this is his son, and this is like- what everyone talks about and stuff sooo

💠Okay, now it's over. Baby is safe in your arms, and you don't seem to be in pain anymore, so now he can relax again with the quieter room, and now it's just the two of you again- well, three now ❤

💠This was the last thing he expected to happen ever, much less right now, but... he honestly can't believe it happened with you. He's glad it's with you. Maybe he's not so much of a fuck-up, after all, if you're still here, and holding his son, no less. He's more than a little nervous when you finally ask him if he wants to hold the baby in your arms. He looks really comfy and Tony would surely ruin that and- okay, he doesn't really get a choice here, does he? You're obviously very tired and deserve some rest without worrying about keeping a newborn in your arms, so it's time for dad to finally step in!

💠He's so small, head already full of dark hair and that nose is unmistakably Tony's. He accidentally stirs him awake when he brushes his thumb over that little nose and soft cheek. Tony goes into full panic mode, trying to quietly shush him and apologizing as if he'll understand. Suddenly he's met with big brown eyes curiously looking around and widely looking up at him. And if anyone is crying, it's Tony 🥹

💠Both your parents are probably waiting around outside, and have been for a while, but... you're finally asleep, and honestly he just wants a little more time for himself. No one will mind a few more minutes 😌

Family Man series: 1 2 3

[qqueenofhades]

Genuinely hope this isn't too weird or personal or a rant but here goes

Recently I've been having a bit of a sexuality crisis and I don't know what's going on. I'm a cis woman and I've never had any interest in men at all for my entire life and knew I wanted to be with a woman, I was completely confident I was gay because I just never felt anything toward men that I do women. But recently I have this one male friend who I'm very good friends with and he recently asked me out on a date. I've known him for a while and looking back, it's embarrassingly obvious that I had a crush. Like I quite literally described it as a platonic crush (spoiler alert: it was not platonic) to one of my friends and compared it to the exact same feelings as a romantic one and I would not shut up about him and how he's an amazing, wonderful person, which he absolutely is.

And I've had crushes on women before which was probably why I was... in denial, for lack of a better phrase? And I didn't want to ruin anything I had with him as a friendship, I had no idea how I felt, and apparently every single one of our mutual friends realized that something was up except for me. He also knows I'm some flavor of not-straight even if I've never explicitly been "hi I'm a lesbian" just because it's never come up in conversation and he's cool with that, even if he's straight himself. But he's such a nice and amazing person and I'm really excited for whatever might happen and I feel like even if it doesn't work out romantically he'd still be a great friend.

I never had the "oh my god am I gay" sexuality crisis, I was just always gay and confident in that about myself, and to make things even worse, I'm not publicly out but basically all my friends do know that I thought I was lesbian and it's actually kinda hard trying to be like "yeah I thought I was gay too, apparently I'm straighter than I thought" but this is an incredibly recent development, I still feel more comfortable with a lesbian label than bi or pan or anything but I'm completely and hopelessly attracted romantically to a man and I feel like I've lost the right to use that label as someone who is apparently NOT exclusively attracted to women when up until about a week ago, I spent my entire life thinking I was. And everything that's going on all of a sudden is just weird and confusing and frustrating and there's a lot of good stuff and a lot of not-so-good stuff all associated with this.

So I dunno, if you have any sort of advice or anything to say, I'm not sure, I just feel like I need to talk about this somehow and try to figure out who I am and how I'm feeling, and this is really hard

Welp. Oh honey. I feel bad that instead of being able to just enjoy the possibility of a new romance with a great person, you have to worry about whether you're the "right" kind of queer or whether you "can't" identify as a lesbian anymore or all of this. I can definitely see the rhetorical roots of what's worrying you, and especially the way it is viciously propagated in online queer spaces, so yeah.

First of all, and most important: absolutely nobody, NOBODY, in the entire world gets to tell you which label you should or should not use, or try to strip it from you. I know the younger queer community in general is INCREDIBLY fond of restrictive gatekeeping, attempting to devise micro-labels for everything, and insisting that you have to be Just One Thing and Not Another, but it's... not true. It's not that you're "straighter than you thought" (which in this framework is automatically pejorative/less worthy than being "properly gay"), it's just that sexuality is fluid, the queer experience is fluid, and you've found someone that you're attracted to regardless of gender -- which is the whole concept of queer sexuality in a nutshell. If any of your friends want to give you grief or insist that you're a Bad Lesbian or whatever, I cordially invite them to take a nice perambulation into the nearest body of water. It is NOT THEIR BUSINESS and if they want to shame you for discovering something new about yourself, rather than support you, then fuck 'em. I am so serious. If you're still most comfortable identifying as a lesbian, that's what you are! Over time, you might decide to move to more of a bi/pan label, or just "queer," or whatever else. Or you may not. Either one is totally fine.

Secondly, this feeling has its roots in the radfem ideology of the 1970s, which has been repackaged, reheated, and distributed in TERF spaces today, and obviously fuck TERFs, we don't welcome TERFs or anything they think about in this space, so yeah. The idea was that women who had any kind of romantic or sexual attraction to men at all were "inferior," that "gold star lesbians" only ever had sex with/romantic relationships with women, and that any queer woman/wlw who had any kind of attraction to men was just obliged by the patriarchy to pretend that they did. In other words, bisexual women were just "lesbians in waiting" who were deluding themselves about wanting men at all, sexual contact with men made you "impure" or less "worthy," and all kinds of other gross things. This is obviously a) wrong, b) hella biphobic, c) and still harmfully prevalent in modern TERF spaces, which do their utmost to convince the younger queer generations that this is the "only right way" to do it. Which, since being queer is all about breaking singular paradigms and embracing fluidity, is total nonsense. It's why they hate the word "queer" itself and try to convince people that it's the "q-slur," because it's too deliberately broad, non-determinative, and inclusive.

Take me for example: as a younger person, I first experienced attraction to/romantic interest in men, so I assumed (HA) that I was straight, and totally ignored the part where I also had those feelings about women. (The amount of "I bet straight women also have these thoughts!" that I did was, uh, a lot.) It wasn't until my late 20s that I consciously acknowledged it and went uh hey, super not straight here, so I began identifying as bisexual. Now in my mid-thirties, when I'm only attracted to women in real life, mostly want to spend time with women, and would only think about marrying a woman, I've decided that "lesbian" is probably the best term for me. But I still do experience attraction to men from time to time! Usually a man that I have no chance of ever actually meeting or having a relationship with; i.e. blorbo from my shows or something like that, and when the hyperfixation fades, the attraction often (if not always) does as well. So maybe there's an element of knowing that I WON'T actually have to do anything about it that plays into it. Who knows. The point is, I still call myself a lesbian, because it's what makes the most sense for my orientation as I experience it, and I do not have to drum myself out of using this label because I still sometimes find men attractive. There are a lot of people in the world! There are a lot of experiences! There is no one RIGHT way to be LGBTQ, and anyone telling and/or insisting that there is, and that you should be shamed if you don't do it exactly in their narrow-minded, bigoted way, should safely and swiftly be completely ignored.

Anyway: you should feel absolutely free to pursue this relationship, you should feel absolutely free to call yourself whatever you damn well please, and if that evolves over time, great! If it doesn't, also great! You alone know who you are and have the most right to define your identity and experience, and anyone who would give you grief over it is definitely, DEFINITELY not worth the time of day.

[avissapiens]

Jockbull Summer Week 1 (12/11/23-18/11/23) - Set A

Model used is Tsonghan Wu

1 & 2.

I don’t typically train with push ups all that often, but I picked this as my personal goal because there’s such a potent jock energy about being able to show off and crank out effortless reps of push ups. Massive high school sports star energy. But we started small. Only managed 22 on my first day. Granted it was immediately after a Push session.

The second attempt however I integrated the competitive element. I went to one of my best friends from back home, K. Total stud who i’ve always envied and idolized. I expect he’ll come up a few more times before this is over so might as well give him some designation. I asked him to make it a contest to beat his score. He hit 30 in one go. I pushed myself so fucking hard because I would not lose to him. I was gonna kick his ass. And I did. I hit 31 and then spent a good minute on the floor unable to get up. It felt so fucking good tho. Increasing by so much. Pushing and winning against my bro. It made my night. 3rd attempt i hit 32. If i keep increasing. Keep pushing. Maybe i’ll get to 100 by the end.

3.

The first step is an important milestone. Obviously as a Self-employed writer/full time student in a different country I don't have a MASSIVE collection of clothes to chuck out (you all can change that). But there are definitely a few that I already know are going to get the boot when the time comes. The reason this one was so important for me and Jockrs is because we both felt that as long as those old clothes were an option, I’d keep defaulting to them out of habit. Over-sized, drab, boring. Hiding the gainz and the new person i want to become. So the first piece I threw out was a fairly cheap ugly grey long sleeved shirt that I bought when I first moved to NZ. 6XL. Bought 3 sizes too big for me at a time when I was 3 sizes too big for me. And as I've leaned down and put on muscle, all this shirt does is wash me out and make me swim in fabric. It had to go. But I still feel indebted to it. It was a go-to piece of clothing on my worst Dysmorphia days when I felt like a fat, disgusting piece of shit. It helped me deal with the anxiety of being in a new place where I clearly didn’t look like I belonged. It helped me hide when I needed to hide. But i don’t need to hide anymore.

4.

Unfortunately I couldn't really work on this as much as I wanted. Jokers was still in exam mode so some of the shared tasks that required him were a bust. That said, I did slip a few more "dudes", "mans" and "bros" into my chatter with gym bros. And I went as far as coaching some dudes through my leg day workout. This is one I'm eager to make progress on because it's so antithetical to what I've always been. My speech has always been a weird indistinguishable hybrid. I’ve been mistaken for American, British and Canadian. I’ve had my voice described as “trans-Atlantic”, Despite coming from the Caribbean. I was always discouraged from indulging too much in dialect and slang when I was young. “Speak properly”. Combined with being fairly bookish and advanced, maybe that led to some good things in the long run. My skill with words, language and voice are unique. They’re why you all love me. But it did mean that by the time I was in secondary school I was a little alienated from my peers. I didn’t talk like them. I didn’t want to either but it was rough always being mistaken for a foreigner on soil you have never left in your life. In a sense, me picking up an even more exaggerated americanized accent is taking that full circle. Developing a bit more control over my speech to inhabit an ideal I have always longed for. Sounds cool, rite brah?

5.

Again, one restricted by Jockrs being in exam mode. I didn’t want to get too far. But we finally watched the first episode of the 2018 series. One of the rare occasions where the dub is notably better than the sub. But god. What a wild ride. 10/10. No notes. It's just pure gas. And that first episode really struck a chord with me. Something visceral about being palpably perceived as a threat. Emanating danger from you that lessers can sense in their bones. Actually being a weapon in human form. I get such a thrill from that concept. I understand why the toxic tik tok gym bro crowd latches on to this show so much. I think I will too.

[2dboisloyal-devotee]

coping mechanism real

>)~ONESHOT

Never Could Have Been Worse (Vash the Stampede x Gender Neutral Reader)

Summary: Reader has been feeling fearful and avoid going outside because of the lurking dangers when they meet the Humanoid Typhoon himself.

Warning: reader being held at gunpoint, very little shooting action

You nervously smile as the innkeeper woman is wearing you down with another scold early up in the morning. “This has been a week and don't think that I'm gonna fall for it even if your made up reasons are different every time! Honestly, I think I've already been too lenient on you but you're not picking yourself up either so you're going to—oh hey Vash! Come here!”

The blond man in crimson trenchcoat looks up as he approaches her with a clueless smile. “ssup, lady? Ya need something?”

“Damn right, I do, accompany this person out and find a job for them. I really can't handle them being around cooped up in here anymore for 7 days straight!” she leaves you with a pat on the shoulder and whispers. “Good luck, you'll really need it.”

Quickly you glance between her back and his tilting face. “You doing alright?” he asks, gently smiling.

With a hesitant nod, you answer him while wondering if he's that Vash the Stampede. “Yeah... um, I'm fine, sorry I got you in a bind I ..didn't even wanted.” your sigh is followed by his perking up voice.

“Don't mind me! Hey, how 'bout we take a stroll outside? Maybe tell me your thoughts while we're at it?” Vash points at the door with his thumb.

On the way, you tell him about how your circumstances led you to stay in the inn before getting kicked out is just like any other day—a bad habit of your cowardly self trying to avoid danger in these wild places. Whenever you're out, you just feel as if anything could happen to put you in a death's chokehold for a good moment.

“Ah, I know the feeling, you ain't alone there... I wish the reaper would buzz off for once darn it!” he dabs his tears with a handkerchief out of nowhere.

It's weird that the so-called paranoid feeling is disappearing down bit by bit as you're walking in peace with him.

“I'm just glad you're surviving till this moment—”

You come to a pause behind Vash. A gun aimed at your temple by a man who raises his voice roughly. “Put your weapons down if you don't want this person hurt, Vash the Stampede!”

You nearly smack a hand to your face. Of course you got to be involved with the guy himself, he's like the whirlpool of dangers at this point.

Vash stops without turning his back. He pulls out the guns from his pocket in a slow motion. “Now, now, let's solve this peacefully yeah? I wouldn't want anybody get hurt y'know!”

The man behind you shouts again. “I-if you do what I said!!” he releases the safety luck on the gun in a shaking grip.

Risking it, you are about to send a kick backwards but Vash already went straight to shot the man's gun out his hand.

With you stepping aside and securing the gun, Vash walks closer towards him when two girls come out of nowhere—already tying up the guy for good. “Thank God that doesn't result in other casualties.” The shorter one of them speaks up, agreed by the other with long hair beside her.

“Good job for another one, Mr. Vash!”

“No probs.” he turns to you with a faltering smile. “Are you alright? That must've been real scary for you. My bad.” Vash scratches his head as he slumps down, dejected.

“It's fine, you saved me anyway. Then, are you really... Vash the Stampede?”

He raises his eyebrows. “That's me a'ight.”

“At least you're not as scary as I thought, I'm glad you're just a nice guy overall. Thank you.” You smile.

“...Aww—haha, thanks, but I'm not that—”

The long-haired girl claps her hands as her statement is backed up by the short girl's sigh. “Congratulations, Mr. Vash! You finally get yourself a friend who appreciates you!”

“Gee, is the world coming to an end? I kind of feel worried...”

“You girls don't have to be that cruel...” Vash mumbles, about to cry.

Amidst of their bickering, you let out a small laughter which Vash takes notice in. He walks to your side. “Are you feeling better now? That stroll wasn't so bad now, was it? 'scuse me for the gun part though.” He muster up a smile.

“...Thanks to you. But honestly, I'm thinking it will be worsening from here on out. Am I even going to survive just by myself..?”

He narrows his eyes, staring at you intensely. “That shouldn't do! You should survive, you will! You've come this far already, don'tcha think that's big enough of an impact you have?”

“Well, true but I—”

You nod. In the near future, you two will meet again someday after you improve yourself better, having enough courage and experience to go explore with him. You both say your goodbyes to each other then leave with your back turned on the opposite way as he waves off.

“No buts! And you don't have to be that rough with yourself.” He gives you a warm grin and pats your back. “It won't be easy but you still got yourself standing here, I believe in you! By that, I hope you can believe in yourself sooner or later. Take your steps slow and steady, you hear me?”

“Remember; love and peace, that includes yourself. See ya later!”

[ozonecologne]

So, I love animation history, and I've been watching a lot of forgotten animated films for the last couple of weeks...

Fire and Ice (1983): the rotoscope thing is very interesting. I love Darkwolf's design and how hot Teegra is in those early scenes, but not much else. It looks too much like He-Man and the plot drags. 2/10

A Troll in Central Park (1994): charming at the heart of things. Especially with Dom DeLuise as Stanley -- what a comforting voice from my childhood. "Anything that's real starts with a dream." I do very much wish I could live in an underground garden paradise like a little socially awkward troll. 4/10

The Princess and the Goblin (1991): a little bizarre and not very compelling, but I love the bits with grandmother Irene. The way that the attic is animated to transform into an Edenic homestead is so beautiful. 4/10

Quest for Camelot (1998): have you ever wondered what Sinbad would have looked like if they had like half the budget and story? Eric Idle is going to hell. I want to fuck the griffin. 3/10

The Ringing Bell (1978): it's considered a classic for a reason! The idea that you create what will destroy you, and love it for doing so... the idea that when you force yourself to grow up you can never go back... There will come a time when you don't fit into your old life anymore, and you did that to yourself. You destroyed what part of you was innocent and belonged here, but you've also turned your back on the world that changed you. So where do you go? What are you now? What good is a strength that requires you face the world alone? 9/10

The Sea Prince and the Fire Child (or, The Legend of Sirius) (1981): a Romeo and Juliet retelling that kind of dragged, to be honest. I love the way that the fire is animated and the underwater backgrounds; they're whimsical but there's a real primordial quality to them that I like, because the ocean is weird! The sea god design is excellent and there are some sea creatures that are truly delightful, like the bunny fish and whatever Mabuse is supposed to be. Sirius is offputtingly noodly though, and he's 80% of the movie. Didn't love this one. 4/10

Faeries (1981): I cannot believe how they pronounce "Niamh" in this. The folklore designs are really cute though. 2/10

Freddie as FR07 (or, Freddie the Frog) (1992): terrible. I should make a video essay about this film because it is batshit insane in like the worst way. Completely not worth your time but I'd love to tell you about it sometime. 0/10

Felidae (1994): what is it about violent cat series that get at me!!!! A gory noir film made about cats solving a series of cat murders? Some of the imagery really was wild here; I loved the nightmare with Mendel and the puppet corpses. Trauma and eugenics and vengeance at the heart of this one too, the villain was without a doubt a monster but you still felt for them anyway. Decently scary and well-paced, a great tribute to the source material. Also, deeply uncomfortable cat sex scene. 7/10

The Last Unicorn (1982): all of my female friends apparently decided to watch this one at the same time, and we all got weirdly emotional about it. To escape a fetishized genocide your body is violated and turned into something that will no longer interest the conquerers. You do not want this change because this is not your body. Every day is a torment knowing that you slip further and further away from what you know you are. Every day you forget more and more of what you used to be. Eventually, you wouldn't want to go back even if you could remember. Even if you are not happy, you are safe. You are alone, all alone with the ghosts that haunt your footsteps. 9/10

The Plague Dogs (1982): GOD ok. These poor things. These poor dogs haunted by pain that they don't deserve -- "I'm a good dog." "I don't think they're doing it because they think you're a bad dog." -- and are just trying to live a good life once they escape their captors. One of them even remembers life before the torture, when he had a comfortable home and love. But now he thinks it's his own fault he's lost it. They wander the wild, hopeless, unloved except by each other, and what can they do? The world is so much bigger than them. Every decision that shapes their lives is out of their hands, and has nothing to do with them. They're cursed by the narrative. They didn't ask for this. They don't even know what they're doing out here, or where they're meant to go; they have no purpose and no reason to keep fighting for their own survival except that it's the only thing they know how to do. You start this life treading water and you end it treading water. The water swallows you all the same. 10/10

Rock a Doodle (1991): Elvis chicken???????? 5/10

Happily Ever After (1989): truly one of the most bizarre films I've ever seen. A sequel to Snow White that quite literally no one asked for and no one saw coming. I am forever haunted by "dwarfelles." I do love the prince's grubby little creature design though, he's so cute! 1/10 for him only.

Once Upon a Forest (1993): I remember so vividly watching this one when I was home sick from school one time. I don't why it stuck with me; it's not very good. 3/10 because cute animal designs

Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland (1989): gorgeous. adorable. such beautiful paintings and incredible character design! there were so many people connected to this project and it's such a labor of love. it has such a ghibli style and feel about it even though that's not the studio that produced it. 8/10!

I also tracked down some of The Animals of Farthing Wood (1993-1995), but I'd love to watch the whole thing sometime. The Redwall series is also on my list, I loved those books as a kid.

Definitely taking recommendations! Have you seen any weird animated films you need to inflict on others?

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Okay guys, time to get serious -Danny Words: 2,251 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'A Troubled Mind' -by Noah Kahan

XXXII: I Ask My Bestie for Advice on the Stupid Thing I Did Already

Ara doesn't know how, but Lily sniffs lies from a mile radius, and it's obvious she didn't buy Ara's story yesterday.

"Remember how you asked me a couple of months ago not to report your absence from camp no questions asked?" She sits next to Connor while the Aphrodite cabin trains.

"You promised to never bring that up!" Connor argues.

"I want you to return the favor," Ara leans one arm on his shoulder. "No questions asked."

"Do I need my kit?"

She shakes her head. "I need you to distract Lily during the campfire."

"Oh. That's all?" Connor sighs heavily. "I'm a man of my word, so you got it, Aracles."

"Stop calling me that." 

Ara gets up and Piper approaches with Katoptris in hand. "The others want to know if we can go shower now."

Ara looks at the group over Piper's shoulder. "Go get rid of the smell!"

The demigods quickly abandon the place, but before Piper can leave,  Ara grabs her wrist. "I need to have a serious talk with you." She grimaces. "Yikes. No. A fun talk. A... sisters talk?"

Piper tilts her head with amusement. "You'll tell me embarrassing secrets?"

"One embarrassing secret," she squeezes the girl's wrist. "I need to know how you and Jason did it."

Piper blushes. "What?"

"The dating!" Her face flushes. "Oh gods, I suck at this..."

"Wait," the girl blinks. "Are you trying to date someone?"

"Er..."

"Who is it?" 

Ara's face gets redder. "Let's talk in my room."

The entire camp is holding its breath. 

A couple of miles out to sea, Percy Jackson and Charles Beckendorf will carry out a plan of attack on Luke Castellan's cruise ship. Charles is packing up the necessary materials, and behind him, two girls are waiting. The first is his girlfriend Silena, the second is me.

"Do you have everything?"

"Think so," he nods.

Silena approaches and adjusts his camp shirt. "Everything will be fine."

"I know."

I look away during the exchange, slightly uncomfortable to be witnessing their moment. I hear footsteps, and then the weight of a big hand on my shoulder. 

"Birdy," Beckendorf smiles. "I'll tell Percy you say hi."

My brother enjoys spending time away with Rachel, so I haven't seen him in like, a week. I decided to come and help the campers, I wanted to be useful. 

In the year since the battle of the labyrinth, I've grown six inches (I'm still shorter than most, though), my sword skills and forging have improved by eighty percent, and I'm visibly stronger. I'm doing well, the problem is my dreams.

I keep seeing weird stuff, Heracles and Achilles's battles, and those memories from my past lives. It feels like they're all connected, somehow.

"Keep an eye on that bronze dragon until I come back, alright?"

"'Kay."

My friend ruffles my hair and hands me a notebook. "If the plan works," he says, "I won't need this anymore, but I want you to keep it."

I'm beyond honored. "I'll take care of it. Good luck."

I follow him and Silena to the pegasus stable and, after greeting Blackjack, I leave the couple. 

Piper and Ara are on her bed drinking a six-pack of regular Coke, and Piper's having the time of her life. "You know, I think Leo got too lucky."

Ara's severely flustered. "Don't think so. This is meant to be, my friends always knew I'd end up dating a Cabin Nine camper. They thought it'd be Jake but—" Ara stops midsentence. "I was never interested in dating until now."

"Well yeah, you were a kid before," Piper agrees. "But I heard you've been avoiding love for years. Is that true?"

"No," Ara makes a face. "I was told I couldn't have it, but I'm not so sure. Chiron says it'll be hard to have a normal life, but he never said it was impossible, and even if it was..."

"You and Leo are masters of unlikely," Piper smiles. "That's what you said, right?"

Ara falls back on her bed, hugging her T-Rex. "But I've got no idea of how it's done properly!"

"No one does, just follow your gut and hope for the best."

"My gut is configured to deal with war stuff, not romance," Ara sulks.

"Then do what your mother said and just have fun. Leo can teach you, he's pretty good at that."

"Can I ask you something?" She sits up. "Do you think he likes me, or is he just starstruck?"

Piper tosses her empty can into the trash, landing a solid three-pointer. "I mean, you're pretty, but you also spent a whole week teaching us how to survive in this world. You're strong and you're skilled, I'm certain he likes you."

"Would he date me even if I didn't have all that?"

"Don't ask me, ask him!" Piper shrugs. "Then you'll know."

"Jackson!" Nico hollers from the stairs. "Lily needs you at the bunker!"

"Coming!" She starts to get up, then pauses. "Don't come to my room while I'm not here!"

"Like I want to see your stupid room!" He replies.

Piper stares at her. "Who was that?"

"The son of Hades," Ara leaves the room with Piper. "We used to be friends until he tried to kill my brother."

"Oh."

They get to the bunker and her sister goes to Leo and Jason—mostly just to be with Jason. Ara reaches the workbench Lily tends to use, as soon as she gets there, the dark-haired girl mumbles a question without looking up.

"What is it with you and elf-looking dudes?" 

"Wish I knew," Ara nudges her friend's arm. "But also, what is it with you and your elf-looking dude?"

"Nothing."

"Doubt it."

"For the last time," Lily looks up rolling her eyes. "We've known each other for years and we're still just friends, it's obviously one-sided."

"Or you're just cowards. One of these days, Connor's gonna get his shit together and he's going to ask you out, and then you'll have to eat your words."

"You didn't answer my question," Lily points out.

Ara grins. "I don't think it's 'cause they look like elves. Maybe I like guys with a good sense of humor."

Her friend snorts. "Yeah, right."

Ara pauses. Then, she speaks quietly. "I kissed Leo."

"WHAT!" Ara covers the girl's mouth, but the bunker's so loud no one hears her yelling. Lily slaps the hand away. "But why? Perché mi fai questo? Sai che ho bisogno di sapere le cose in anticipo in modo che tutto vada bene—"

"Se ti calmi forse posso spiegarti meglio, civetta!" Ara scolds her. "Listen, I talked to Piper—"

"You told Piper before you told me?" Lily exclaims. "Who else knows, Blackjack?"

"Shut up a minute!" Ara insists. "Piper's a daughter of Aphrodite! If Silena were here..." her voice cracks. "I just needed someone close to Mother."

Lily takes in her reply, blushing a little. "Right. I got carried away, sorry. So... Can I stab Leo if he messes up?"

Ara snorts. "No. I wouldn't even let Percy get tough with him."

"I don't see Percy doing that. Well, more like I never imagined him doing that if Mike had asked you out," Lily mentions. 

Once again, it's all well-intentioned and innocent, but Ara can't stand it. "He was different," she faces Lily with a serious expression. "Promise me something."

The girl tilts her head. "I'm listening."

"You'll stop talking about him."

I shoot up the lava wall, my hands and legs knowing by heart where each stepping stone is. I can climb with my eyes closed, with one hand, you name it. I'm the best climber in town.

"Fifty seconds!" Lily shouts proudly.

I seize the rope and descend swiftly, kicking against the wall on each leap. "You know what I think?"

"What?" Lily grins.

"This child of Olympus thing is going to be easy," I jump the last meter and land in front of her. "Woah! Did that look as cool as it felt?"

"You'll destroy your knees if you keep doing that," she responds unimpressed. "But yeah, it looked cool."

"Pff, I'm half-goddess, I'll be fine. I just couldn't wait to see you from up close," I tilt my head. "Occhi benedetti che ti vedono."

My friend stops smiling. "Da quando sai parlare italiano?"

I giggle. "I only learned a few compliments so I can shout them when you walk past," I shrug. "High-quality teasing." 

Lily face-palms and I laugh more.

"They're back!" Shouts a camper near us.

We run to where the group of demigods is, and I hear Silena's voice: 

"Where is Charlie?"

Time stops. When I see my brother's expression, I know I'll never see Beckendorf again. 

"No..." 

A pair of arms wrap around my shoulders while Clarisse leads Silena to the big house. 

"Ara..." Percy's the one holding me, I did not see him move.

Something's squeezing my lungs. Beckendorf is dead. Percy tells me everything, including that his father saved him. He tells me about the war happening underwater, and how it's time for him to listen to his prophecy.

We look at each other, neither of us is crying. We know this loss is greater than any amount of tears. I hug my brother. "You're okay," when I speak, my voice comes out shaky. "That's enough for now." 

I'll avenge my friend, I have a plan and a good reason to make it happen.

"You're getting stronger," Percy speaks hoarsely. "That hug almost breaks me in half." 

I know he's lying, but I appreciate it. 

Lily and Michael approach me with equally grim expressions. "Bug..."

"I gotta train." I walk past them, and they follow me at a proper distance.

"If you want to take a break..." Lily starts gently.

"Kronos's army doesn't take breaks," I reply, tightly holding the compass in my pocket. "Neither do I."

"What?"

"I need some distance between my past and my future," Ara continues. "I can't drag him along."

"Drag him?" Lily glares at her. "It's only been five months, Ara. He was your best friend—"

"And he's not coming back."

Lily seems even more insulted by this. "You're going to act like you never even—?"

"Hi!" Leo shows up with a huge smile on his face. "Bunker's closing..." The girls look at him with matching scowls, causing him to step back. "Unless... you don't want to go?"

"Doesn't matter what I want," Lily slams shut her notebook. "Ara speaks for all of us."

"Lily—"

"Don't bother."

Ara's glad she asked Connor to distract Lily, cause she'll need company after that. The former Aphrodite leans on the workbench and buries her hands in her hair. There is no way in which she can get her point across without sounding like a jerk, and she's getting tired of enduring anguish so others can feel better.

"What's her problem?" Leo lowers his voice. "You're the General, of course you speak for all of us!"

"Not what she meant..." Ara mutters grumpily.

Leo places a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, if you're not feeling well, we should postpone—"

"No!" Ara looks up, trapping his hand in place.

Leo gulps, he does his best to keep a low tone as he talks to her. "'Kay, not postponing it."

He's pondering whether to leave or stay when Ara speaks again, pushing herself up and glaring at the bunker's entrance. "You know what's annoying? If he hadn't sworn on the Styx, then we wouldn't be in this situation, but she acts like I was the one who caused this—It was his oath!"

Leo just looks at her, knowing she's not expecting a reply.

"If it wasn't for..." Ara wants to stop talking about this. She wants to leave it behind as soon as possible. "I am what I am thanks to my friends, that's all."

"Of course," the boy agrees. "And you love your friends."

Ara locks eyes with him, gaze softening. "You know, Beckendorf cared for this camp, and I bet that he's proud you're carrying on with his legacy."

"I've seen pictures of him," Leo shakes his head. "I'm nothing like the guy."

"All he wanted was to keep us safe, and you found the perfect way to do that. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. In more ways than one."

Leo lits up—his soul light, not in flames—and clears his throat, removing his hand from her shoulder. "So why is Lily angry at you?" 

"She wants me to look back," Ara answers vaguely. "But I can't, not when it's no longer of use. I've got to keep my eyes ahead."

My friends (Mike, Connor, Travis, Lily, and even Malcolm and Will) take turns to see how I'm doing throughout the day. I lost my mentor and with him any interest in the mortal world, I'll focus on securing the future of the demigods who remain.

I don't say another word for the rest of the afternoon, I pull myself together before facing all of Beckendorf's siblings. When I walk into the forges holding Beckendorf's notebook, no one's actually working. They're all there though, looking lost. 

Nyssa spots me at the entrance. "Ara's here." 

Hugs are received and I give a few in return. Tears are shared, but once everyone calms down, I show them Beckendorf's notebook. "I know we're not in the mood to think about work," I clear my throat. "But I need you."

"You saved our brother's life a month ago," Nyssa shrugs. "We owe you one, Birdy. You name it."

"I took a quick look at the notebook he left," I turn the pages as I speak. "He had a plan, in case blowing up the Andromeda wasn't enough." 

I turn the notebook so they can see Charles's sketches.

"We need tons of these—a full cabin if we can. You think it's doable?"

"Depends," Jake replies. "When do you want them?"

"I need them before the week ends."

Jake and Nyssa look at each other, and then the boy nods. "For Beckendorf."

"For Beckendorf," the group echoes.

I study the drawings, my fingertips grazing the notes like they're some kind of treasure.

"I'll look after them..." I whisper, hoping Beck can hear.

Next Chapter ->

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