#on the battle. i don't need luck to drive

[pkmntrainersquid]

Driving up north for tomorrow's gym battle! Wish me luck!

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

sneaking in before he fights 👁, lil goodbye fucking👁, he’s afraid but doesn’t show it 👁

⤷ Credits: @arcanefox207

Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 984 | Proof read : NO | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN

Summary: Wishing him luck before a battle

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Voyeurism, Spitting, both give switch vibes, misogyny, angsty bc i cant help myself

A/n: its a lot more angsty then i thought but enjoy

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation, the distant roar of the crowd echoing through the stone corridors of the Colosseum. You found Marcus in a secluded corner, his eyes dark with a mix of desperation and desire. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows, dancing on the walls as he pressed you against the cold stone, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come on, baby," he murmured, lifting the skirt of your tunic and rubbing your clit softly. "We don't have much time."

You'd come to wish him luck before the gladiator battle, but his need was palpable, immediate. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, his kisses and caresses igniting a fire within you. His fingers played with your clit, circling it lightly, making you moan softly. He fumbled with his armor, the metal clinking as he pulled out his erection, giving it a few rough tugs before leaning down to spit on his dick.

With little preparation, he shoved his length inside you. The sudden stretch made you wince, but the pain quickly morphed into pleasure as he began to thrust into you. Your breath hitched, your back arching against the wall as he moved with a primal urgency. You covered your mouth with the palm of your hand to stifle your moans, your other hand gripping Marcus tightly for stability.

His pace was relentless, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the narrow corridor. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper. Marcus's eyes burned with intensity, his jaw clenched as he drove into you, every movement a testament to his raw, unbridled desire.

"You're so perfect," he groaned, his voice rough with lust. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to meet his powerful thrusts. The friction, the heat, the sheer urgency of the moment consumed you both, driving you closer to the edge.

You could feel the pressure building, your muscles tensing as you teetered on the brink of release. Marcus's breath grew ragged, his thrusts becoming more erratic. He was close, too close. The worry flickered in his eyes for a brief moment, but the need for release overpowered his concern.

"I can't hold on," he panted, his rhythm faltering.

"Let go," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. "I'm with you."

With a guttural moan, Marcus buried himself deep inside you, his release sudden and overwhelming. The heat of his climax filled you, pushing you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your cries muffled against his shoulder as you came together, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Marcus rested his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. The sounds of the crowd grew louder, a stark reminder of the impending battle.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. "I couldn't wait."

He pulled out of you, and just as he went to drop to his knees, you stopped him. “Marcus, it’s—” He lifted your leg again, trying to continue, but you pushed against his shoulder firmly. “We don’t have time,” you insisted, your eyes locking onto his.

In that moment, you noticed a flicker of fear in his eyes, a look that sent a chill down your spine. Your breath caught as you took in the vulnerability hidden beneath his determined exterior. Quickly, you pulled him up, your hands moving to smooth down his tunic and wipe away the evidence of your passionate encounter.

“Marcus,” you said softly, your fingers trembling as you adjusted his armor. “What’s wrong?”

He averted his gaze, his usual confidence replaced with something you couldn’t quite name. “Nothing,” he muttered, the word a weak attempt to hide his true feelings. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you whispered, your hands moving to cup his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I can see it. You’re scared.”

He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his composure. “It’s just another fight,” he said, his voice strained. “I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“But this time is different,” you pressed, searching his eyes for answers. “I can feel it. Tell me why.”

Marcus’s eyes darted away again, his fear palpable despite his efforts to hide it. “The stakes are higher,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The opponents are stronger. And… I have more to lose now.”

You felt your heart ache at his words, understanding the weight he carried. “You’re the strongest warrior I know,” you said firmly, your hands trembling as you held him. “You’ve faced death and come back stronger every time. This will be no different.”

He shook his head slightly, his fear still evident. “I’ve never had something to lose before,” he said, his voice breaking. “Every time I step into that arena, I think of you. What if I don’t come back?”

“Stop,” you interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. “You can’t think like that. You fight because you have something to come back to. Use that. Let it drive you, make you unstoppable.”

He took a deep breath, the fear in his eyes giving way to resolve. “You’re right,” he murmured. “I need to fight for us.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in his muscles ease as he steadied himself. “Promise me you’ll come back,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He looked into your eyes, the determination returning. “I promise,” he replied, his grip tightening on your hands. “I’ll come back to you. No matter what.”

You kissed him deeply, pouring all your love and hope into that moment. As you pulled away, you saw the determination blazing in his eyes. He was ready.

“Go,” you urged, stepping back. “Show them who you are.”

Marcus nodded, a fierce smile spreading across his face. “For you,” he said, turning to stride towards the arena entrance.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Can I please request Skz x 9th member with s3lfh4rm like…the boys trying to help and all those things (you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to)

The stages of healing.

warning: eating disorder and mentions of self harm.

Pairing: Skz x 9th member

Summary: the stages are healing are hard but Chan and the boys are here for you.

!not proofread!

Hope you enjoy this bby!

-🩷

*

"Baby you have to eat something" Chan says while pushing the plate back to my side of the table.

We were currently sat in the dining room and everyone had finished eating their breakfast leaving me and chan (who had also finished eating his breakfast) alone.

"Chan I don't want too, I'm full" I complain while looking at the full plate infront of me. It was obviously untouched but i could'nt bring myself to eat it. It was taunting me.

"You only had two bites and we have training all day today, I don't want you passing out my love. You need to eat something," He says while rubbing my back. He was being gentle i cant lie there but the worryb and frustration in his voice caused me to feel more guilthy at the fact that my brain was a constant maze and battle zone when it came to eating

"Look you can atleast just eat the mashed potatoes and peas so you can give you energy. Trust me it wont be bad," He tries to reason with me but I shake my head no. I was so full and food gave me so much anxiety.

I didn't want to grow fat, I wouldn't allow it.

"Channie I don't want too, please don't make me." I beg him while fiddling with my fingers.

"Baby, I'm starting to get worried. You only have one meal a day and when you do, you barely eat. Please don't make me forcefully feed you." his voice was soft and his touch was so warm. i knew he meant well bu the contant voices in my head wouldnt allow me to do anything.

I look at him terrified, mortified because would he really? I knew Chan was stronger than me but he wouldn't pin me down just to make me eat...right?

"Okay Mashed potatoes only." I sigh looking at the plate. Trying not to cry.

"There we go Babygirl" he smiles and kisses my temple. His eyes twinkle and i couldnt help but also smile at how pretty he was.

"what?" he asks chuckling

"your just so pretty"

"ugh stop changing the subject and eat" his cheeks were now a ligh pink and his ears turned a dark red. he rolls his eyes playfully and runs his hand through his hair.

"Yo Chan," Han says coming into the room and looking over at me and Chan. He gives him "the look".

"Is she having trouble eating again?" Han asks worried and Chan nods his head.

"But it's fine she's eating her potatoes today.”

Han smiles at that and comes over to ruffle my hair.

“I’m proud of you kid.” He beams and I poke out my tongue causing him to laugh.

"Chan can you help me look for the flash drive before we leave?" Han asks,

"Yeah sure, babe eat up. I'll be back." He tells me and leaves the room with Han. I let out a sigh of relief and quickly stand up and dunk all the food into the trash can. My heart was beating because I prayed that Chan would take long looking for the Flash drive but luck wasn't on my side because he came right back into the kitchen.

"Hey-" he stops and looks up from his phone. "are you done?"

"I finished them." I said smiling, well whatever you call a plastic smile. A guilty smile.

"You finished all the mashed potatoes?" He says coming close to me. I nod trying to avoid his eye contact.

"Okay then." He simply says before walking to the trash can.

"N-no don't look in there-" I try to stop him but it's too late. He had already opened it and looked inside. He turned to look at me and he was so mad I could tell.

"Your a liar." He growls. i gulp knowing the concequences of my actions.

"i ate half of them?" i sigh and look up at him. He just shakes his head and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"i dont get it! why dont you want to eat anymore? We were doing so well,"

"is everything okay in here?" Felix's head pops up at the corner of the door.

"she just threw out all her food-"

"again? thats the 4th time this week." he frowns and makes his way into the the room.

"exactly my point,"

"i did eat chan, i ate half the potatoes-" i tug on my long sleeves sweaters and look at the both of them.

He frowns and looks down then back up, searching for my eyes.

“Can I see your wrists?” He asks looking back down at my fingers. His eyes were furrowed. Almost in like a confused way?

My eyes go wide at his request but I quickly shove them away.

“Chan they’re ugly, I don’t want you to see them.” I frown. My voice quivers. The tears that had disappeared were now reappearing.

“Chan I haven’t been cutting I promise-“

“Then let me see, I know you too well my love. Let me see.” His eyes are soft now and were reaching out for both my hands that were covered with my hoodies sleeves.

I sigh and give in. His hands are soft against mine but he pulls up the sleeves. He examines the scars that were now slowly healing. His lips in a soft smile.

“See I told you, I promised you I stopped.”

“Hey hey hey and I’m so proud of you. I just wanted to make sure because I care and love you. You’re doing a good job healing.” his hands wrap around my waist and pull me against his body.

“Ew gross get a room.” Felix says killing our moments. Chan chuckles and pushes him away.

"The cars are here everbody!" Hyunjins voice echoes through the house.

"okay this conversation isnt over yet, here take the banana and we'll talk about it after practice yeah?" he kisses my forhead and hands me the banana before we grab our bags and make our way to the car.

"go ahead eat it, im watching you." chan raises one eyebrow while staring at me. "She still isnt eating?" Leeknow asks after listening to our conversation.

"i am! chans just being a overprotective," i sigh and peel the banana.

"i am not!" he defends himself and i let out a giggle while slowly starting to chew the banana and finishing it. "see i told you," i poke my tongue out at him and he let out a little laugh.

"okay whatever but your still having lunch with me." i mentally sigh dreading the feeling of the banana sitting in my stomach.

i play with chans's silver braclet as we wait to arrive at the jyp building. It didnt take long. It was just a 15 minute ride once we arrived. we all make our way up the building to our normal dance room and set everything up.

"lets start with stretching and then get to God's menu, yeah?" we all groan as we get to our places and minho plays the song.

*

[cutielando]

world champion | m.v.

synopsis: in which he finally achieves his dream

my masterlist

Ever since he started in Formula 1, the biggest dream Max had was becoming a World Champion. Signing with Red Bull was the first step towards making his dream come true.

Having you by his side was the second thing he needed.

His family couldn't come at every single race that he had, having their own lives and work prevented them from being able to fly out to the numerous countries that he found himself in every week.

But you had a very flexible job, you had your own little business and could essentially work from your laptop from anywhere you were, which was why you had never missed a race since Max started in F1.

He always joked with Christian in calling you his lucky charm.

The season had been going well for him, he'd won numerous races and was now tied with Charles Leclerc in the Championship standings. But you knew he could do it, you could feel the win coming.

"I'm going crazy" he told you the night before the race that would essentially decide who the champion is.

The famous Yas Marina circuit in Abu Dhabi.

"Stop stressing, you're going to give yourself wrinkles if you stress so much" you called out from the hotel bathroom where you were doing your skincare routine before bed.

"How can I not be stressed? My career is essentially on the line. Everything relies on what happens tomorrow, I can't let everyone down and not win" he said, his voice quiet and somber.

You finished doing your skincare routine and exited the bathroom, joining him on the king sized bed and wrapping your arms around him.

He buried his face in your chest and held onto you tightly, your arms being the only comfort for his nerves before every single race.

"Nobody is going to hate you or judge you if you don't win. Everybody is going to be proud of you for being able to be at the top for the entire season. I'm proud of you, Max, and I'll be proud of you regardless if you finish in first or last place. Don't beat yourself up if things don't go your way tomorrow, there is always next year and we're all going to be there for you, no matter what" you explained, kissing the top of his head as a confirmation that you were there and will always be by his side, no matter the results.

"You really mean that?" his voice was timid, but you could feel his muscles starting to relax under your touch.

"Of course I do. You don't have to put this kind of pressure on yourself. You're not doing this for the fans or for your family or for me, you're only doing this for yourself. Just go out there and drive your best and let the results come to you if it's meant to be"

He nodded and squeezed you tighter. 

"I love you, so damn much" he mumbled, kissing your clothes chest and settling back down against you.

"I love you too, baby" you whispered and started running your hand up and down his back, knowing it was one of his favorite things.

As minutes went by, his breath started to slow down, indicating that he had fallen asleep. You smiled and placed a final kiss on his forehead before getting comfortable to go to sleep yourself, excited for what tomorrow would bring. 

♡♡♡♡♡

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage was exhilarating. For Christian and all the engineers, Max was already the World Champion.

Nothing could ruin their mood that morning, and the same could be said about you.

"How are you feeling?" you asked your boyfriend as he started getting ready to go in the car.

"Still nervous, but not as much as before. What happens, happens. I'll give it my best and we'll see" he said and gave you a sincere smile, reassuring you that he was okay.

"Good luck, baby. I love you, please be safe" you said and leaned up to kiss his lips before he'd have to put on his balaclava and helmet.

"I will. I love you too" 

He departed after that, going over last-minute strategies with his engineers and making sure the car was ready for battle.

Once the mechanics rolled him out of the garage and onto the track, you took a seat next to his race engineer, who immediately gave you a pair of headphones.

"How's our boy?" he asked you, a warm smile on his face.

You and Gianpiero had a close relationship ever since he started working with Max, frequently exchanging thoughts and opinions before and after every race.

Sure, you didn't have the whole technical knowledge perfected yet, but you knew your way around the sport and strategies and everything after being with Max for so many years.

"He's nervous, but I know he's going to give it his all. I told him to drive his best and see what happens. Didn't feel like putting more pressure on him than necessary" you explained, earning a nod from the engineer.

"He'll win, I can feel it"

♡♡♡♡♡

And right he was.

Seeing him cross that finish line and checkered flag long before anyone else was like a breath of fresh air. You and Gianpiero jumped up from your seats and hugged each other, your cheeks already full of the tears that were flowing down.

You took your headphones off and make your way out of the garage, impatiently waiting for Max to pull up and get out of the car.

Once you saw his car approaching, you started jumping up and down, feeling happier than you had ever been.

"You did it!!" you screamed once Max got out of the car and enveloped you in his arms.

You didn't even care that he was sweaty and tired, all you could focus on was the fact that he had finally achieved his childhood dream.

"I did it" he sobbed into your shoulder, his arms holding you tightly against his body.

As you stood embraced in the middle of the paddock in your own little bubble, you knew that all of the sleepless nights, the hundred hours of training, the dozens races he's done, his entire hard work has finally paid off.

He was World Champion.

But more importantly, he was your champion. 

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[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Young Master Shield's Chapter 212

TL;DR - Alberu and Cale talks about the miscommunication. Alberu scolds Cale. The two plan to rip off other kingdoms again. GoD approves of Cale's request. GoD's bishop meets Cale at the black castle. Violan sees Cale off. Cale arrives in the world of a RoFan (romance-fantasy) and becomes a ML???

The Two Brothers The scenes between the two today was so funny. Alberu scolded Cale for misinterpreting his nod back then, and increasing his workload now. 😂

Alberu: That's why I told you to just go quietly. Cale: I thought I had to explain and then go! Alberu: ...Are you mad at me now? Cale: ... Alberu: Tsk. Why did you have to say that you were saving the world? Cale: (I mean, how will I explain it then?) Alberu: You could've said it was related to Arm. Because it's true, right? Then people will be less anxious and won't worry as much, right? Cale: ... Alberu: Even if you cannot lie, you should speak in moderation. Why are you increasing my workload? The background: *constant ringing noises from the video comm devices connected to other countries* Alberu: *glares at Cale* Cale: Ahem. *avoids the gaze* Alberu: This is driving me crazy.

And then the two laughed as they thought of ripping off the other countries again... 😂

"I plan to gather representatives from each kingdom soon and share some of the truth." "…" "It means we need to hold a general meeting. You know what I mean, right? Huh?" Alberu asked with a bright smile. Cale responded quickly. "Yep." It wasn't 'yes,' but 'yep.' Alberu's bright smile deepened, and Cale smiled back. "Hahahaha!" "Hahaha!" Munch, munch. Raon, who was eating cookies, turned away from the two. "Both of you are acting strange!" The two felt a strange sense of futility in the 7 year old dragon's words and stopped laughing.

Of course, Cale also kept teasing Alberu. Like when Cale brightly smiled at Alberu for thinking the same thing as him. 😂

Alberu: *planning to take advantage of the situation to gain something* Cale: *brightly smiling as if he knew what Alberu was thinking* Alberu: !!! Alberu: Don't look at me like that. Cale: How am I looking at you? I'm just looking at you with great respect right now, okay? Alberu: Haa… (I shouldn't talk to you.)

And one more... 🤣🤣🤣

Alberu: No need to send you off? Cale: *grins* Yes. You must be so busy to even play games. I wish you luck! Alberu: … *smiling brightly* Raon: Oh! I think my human won against the crown prince this time!

Aipotu Plans So Cale's request to increase the number of people to a hundred got approved... sort of. GoD said that Cale was allowed to bring 99 people, and the last 100th spot was reserved for someone who might "descend" to that world.

Cale was surprised at the word "descend", and wondered if a god was going. Woah... Is the situation that serious then? GoD did say that if Cale's guess about the Five-Colored Bloods being wanderers was true, it would cause chaos in the divine realm. So who would descend? GoD himself? GoP? GoFP? Angelina?

GoD wouldn't give Cale an answer on who, but told him to bring Cage with him in case communication through the divine mirror fails.

As for the enemy wanderer, we did get one clue about them. Sui and CJS reported that the enemy was wearing a cow-shaped mask, and that was it.

The Send-Off Because the entire black castle would be going, Cale did not head to the temple of GoD this time. Instead, it was the bishop of GoD who came to the black castle. Cale warned the bishop to keep everything a secret, and they agreed, feeling intimidated by everything he had seen here.

We had some touching scene of Violan sending off Cale, telling him to take care of himself. She handed him a blueprint of the castle's new stuff, and told him to make use of it if an enemy attacked.

Cale, the Grand Duke of the North? And finally, Cale's group arrived at the world of Aipotu. They were all tense and prepared to go to battle, but what did they see upon arrival? A snow-filled landscape and cold winds. Apparently, GoD sent them there because this was where CJG last sent a message to GoD, so GoD thought this place was safe.

The group was then greeted by an old man and his entourage in winter clothes, and the old man mistook Cale for... the Grand Duke! 🤣🤣🤣 Cale was shocked, and the confused old man corrected himself, saying that he (Cale) must be the descendant of the Grand Duke who came to save the fief!

Cale, with his extensive knowledge of novels he had read as KRS, then blurted out, "Grand Duke of the North?" At those words, the old man exclaimed that the revelation in his dream was indeed correct. 😂

But wait, Cale... Grand Duke of the North is a cliche in romance-fantasy (rofan) novels... So you also read rofan?! 🤣🤣🤣 And Cale is that Grand Duke's descendant?! 😂

Okay, on a more serious note, does that mean the Thames household was originally from Aipotu? Because Cale's red hair was inherited from them, and the old man even mistook Cale for the grand duke himself. Or is this another case like how WS's appearance was a red-haired KRS lookalike?

Ending Remarks Today's chapter had a lot of funny moments, though I was surprised that they're suddenly in Aipotu by the end of the chapter. Oh yeah, Cale's talk with the Molans got postponed again, but Cale was now seriously thinking of making time to talk with them.

TCF's genre keeps increasing. First it was a transmigration into a western fantasy world. Then we had the modern fantasy and apocalyptic monsters. Next was the world-hopping. Xiaolen was a fantasy world with necromancy theme and throne succession battle. Central Plains was a typical murim world with Eastern zombies. Earth 3 was said to have hunters and dungeons. And now, Aipotu is... a romance fantasy world with dragons? 🤣🤣🤣

If it's rofan, will we have another crown prince here who's going to be the rival of the grand duke of the north? Who's going to be the FL? A commoner turned noble? Or will we have a villainess? Or maybe a saintess? 😂 All this thinking has me excited for the chapter on Friday!

[justagirlfr]

Just One More Tear to Cry

summary: Noah Diaz x f!reader where reader gets into a fight with him about staying.

a/n: I was originally going to make this longer and end it with a reader pov, but I decided that would probably be better if I made an entirely new part instead with it.

——————————————————

"If you hate me, leave me like you've always left before." The statement stung, and you could see its edge burrowing its way into Noah Diaz's heart.

"That's not fair," he says, slowly unclenching his fists. Tears brimming his beautiful eyes now, and you feel a pang of guilt knowing that you were the cause. 

"Yes it is, you left me when you accepted that government job all those weeks ago, and when you finally come back you tell me you need to leave again. Do you know how hard it is knowing the kind of danger you put yourself in, and never being able to feel relieved when you come back? You leave just as soon as you return and it's killing me- it's ripping me apart and I can't do this anymore. I love you, Noah, but I won't love this." You gesture between the two of you, seeing him crumble further. It breaks your heart, but it ruins you to know the kind of danger he constantly puts himself in. 

"I know- I know it's hard, and I know it's not ideal, and all I want to do is be with you, I just want to hold you and I want to make sure that you're okay, but there are battles I have to fight and I need to fight them for you! For us! For my family, don't you understand?" He's shouting now, and it's deafening. It radiates off the walls of his garage, and you can see Mirage in the corner getting worried. He was just about to transform into his alt form to drive Noah to get his passport renewed when you intervened. "I care so, so deeply for you and that's why I have to do this."

You're left there, in your own puddle of tears, just staring at him. This man- this man who is yours, who is so kind, caring, and sweet- he carries the world on his shoulders and all you want to do is sweep it off of him. 

"I can't lose you too," you sniffle. You're trying so hard to keep the tears back but it's getting so, so difficult. You can hear Mirage's engine shut off. He probably knows this isn't going to be a quick thing. "You know how much I've lost Noah, and I don't want to keep having to lose anymore. I'm so tired of it. I love you but I'm tired of loving you, if this is what it means to be together." Tears stream elegantly down your cheeks and with frustration you wipe them away quickly. 


"No, this is not how this was supposed to go-" Noah is looking at you with a pleading expression, reaching out into the nothingness in front of him. The gap between the two of you has never been this large before. "I was supposed to get my passport and then you were supposed to kiss me goodbye, tell me good luck, tell me you already missed me, don't walk out on me! I need you!" He shouts at you. 

Scared, you start to recoil away from him. "Yeah? Well I don't need this." You sniffle and quickly wipe away any remaining tears with your sleeve. You try to push him aside so you can leave the garage, but you feel his strong hands on your forearm pulling you back. He whips you around so that you're both chest to chest. 

"I can't," he sobs, "I can't lose you." 

His grip on you is softer now, and he gently places his forehead to yours while he cries. "I'll quit, I'll tell them to stop sending me away, if that's what it takes. I'll find something else to do, I promise. Anything. I just- I can't-"

You bring your soft, delicate hands up to hold his face. "Noah," you whisper. "I'm not going to leave you. I'm just- I was scared. I am scared. But I know that shouldn't get in the way of what you need to do. It would be selfish for me to stop you from that." You caress his face, and as you touch noses, you feel the wet residue of tears. 

His sobs became quieter as you embraced him fully. "So let me come with you."

He pulls away immediately and looks at you with a shocked expression. "No, absolutely not."

"You want to put yourself in danger? Fine, but let me at least be there for you when you do it," you take steps closer to him and put your hands on his arms to soothe him. "You know they still want me to take that job as your partner. Maybe it's time to stop being scared, and do what really matters for the people that matter."

You swear, he has never looked at you with that much admiration in his life. His eyes are so blurry with tears, and he blinks them away so he can see you more clearly. He leans in and gives you one of the gentlest kisses. His lips are soft, slightly wet, but warm against yours. You have to stand on your tip-toes in order to fully reciprocate, and when you do, it feels just as good as the first time. When you pull apart for a second, you're still close enough to brush your lips against each other. 

"I love you," he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration and meaning of his words against your top lip. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

—

That's the memory Noah Diaz recalls when he first learns of your status as a hostage in the Terrorcons' grasp. He pleads with Optimus, begging that he's been told a lie, and that you're really just playing a huge prank on him. When he doesn't get what he wants, he throws a fit, banging his fists against Optimus's shin. He becomes so frustrated that Mirage eventually has to pull him away from the bot. 


He sits Noah down on his lap, rubbing circles along his back. "We'll get her back, alright? Don't worry man," he says hopefully, optics reassuring. 

Noah is still uncontrollably sobbing, wanting nothing more but to believe the words.

Should I do a Part 2…?

[marisferasiop]

Two roads diverge in a forest...

Summary: Ezra is on your traveling crew. You get stranded after a crash; only you two are left. He is eerily calm, which grates on your fraying nerves. On your hike, you get the story out of him about how he lost his arm while you search a crashed ship for parts. He guides you into confronting a scary choice: stay here, and likely perish, or attempt to overtake a crew scouring the natives' camps for slaves to capture and sell, and steal their ship. What do you have to lose? And what choice can you live with?

Rating: PG for offscreen violence? Language?

Wordcount: 1400

For @perotovar 's frith challenge! Ezra is aligned with the god Tyr. Main attributes/values: integrity, choices and consequences, missing a limb/extremity, reasoning, and bravery (esp in battle).

AN: Hey I'm super anxious about this because of Expectations so here before I drive myself insane for 2 more weeks 🫣

The forest smells like age and decay, and you only sort of hate it.

“Tell me again, birdie,” your partner behind you sighs, before dropping his weight onto a fallen log with a grunt of exhaustion. You pause halfway up the embankment and glare down at his tired smile.

Why is he so insufferably sufferable? Fucking asshole.

“I’m going to kill you first if you don't get your ass up.” You wave your rail gun at his entire self, and lean against the mossy tree at your back.

Ezra huffs a laugh and nods. “I would not blame you. We’ve been marching for hours. Let's have a small respite. Tell me about your planet. What is waiting for you, back home?”

Begrudgingly, you stomp back down through the fallen leaves and rotting undergrowth to the fallen tree and plop next to him, kicking your sore feet out as far as you can reach to get your weight off them.

“Nothing. Not really. Deadbeat parents, an ex who’s probably still fucking my former best friend... I told you I came out here to get away from it.”

He nods sagely and leans back against a branch. It groans under his weight, but holds. “So why do you want to go back?”

“I don't,” you insist. “I just want to get off this fucking planet.”

Ezra hums and scratches his chin with his one hand. It draws your eyes to his pinned sleeve. “I have been marooned before, though through the catalyst of a mutiny, rather than a crash landing. My partner on that excursion was much less appealing than you, birdie. In both companionship and conversational aptitude. I too have nothing to return to. So who says we cannot sojourn here a while? This planet is not overpopulated, nor beholden to the capitalist overlords that plague so much of our galaxy. The food is – not exactly top tier, but it is simple to obtain. The water is drinkable. The air, non- toxic. The natives are not friendly, no. But they haven't bothered us.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Just because I don't want to get back to my shit life doesn't mean I want to stay in the fucking jungle, either.”

“Then I see two options, birdie. We endeavor to find and trade with the natives, if they have the parts we need to repair our vessel, or we follow that chemtrail,” he points up and traces a white line in the pink sky. “And if the folks who have that ship are not friendly, we overtake them.”

“We’ve already checked half a dozen other crashes, and nothing has been compatible. It would be incredible luck if the natives have the part we need, or if those beings on that ship are friendly.”

Ezra nods and pitches forward, balancing his elbow on his knee. “Overtaking, it is, then?”

“I don't see how the other option is valid. I doubt the natives will have usable parts if none of the ships so far have been a match to ours.”

After aoment of quiet thought, you stand and come in front of Ezra, holding a hand out. “C’mon old man. That chemtrail ain't gonna follow itself.” he takes your hand and lets you drag him to standing with a groan.

A while later, and after much inane (and breathless; you try to remember the mentioned puncture in his diaphragm and forcibly keep your pace slower to compensate) small talk, you finally bring it up again:

“So how’d you lose your arm? While you were marooned?”

Ezra snorts and nods, pausing on the ridge you’ve just mounted to catch his breath. “A bit of an exercise in trust, if you will. I chose to trust someone that others on my side would not have, and I lost my arm for it. But it was my choice to make, and therefore my consequence to bear.”

“So you made an ill- advised choice, and lost your damned hand. But you're cool with it? Sure,” you snark, slapping a plant frond out of the path. You hear him snort behind you and roll your eyes. You stop in your tracks and side-eye him. "Why am I taking your advice, then?"

Ezra huffs a winded laugh and pauses as well, happy for the break. “Every moment of our lives are filled with choices, birdie. And thus, consequences. Owning them makes all the difference.”

The spiraled end of the chemtrail looms closer in the yellowing sky, and after perhaps an hour of scaling a worn-low mountain, you can hear voices through the fauna.

“You got charges?” You ask, and Ezra tugs his rail gun from his belt, clicking it on. The whirring matches your own, and you both check pockets for more. Five double- charges between you, to split; a total of twelve shots between you. You pocket three of them and leave Ezra with one loaded and one in his pocket. He won't be able to switch them quickly; you'll have to cover him.

“Stay low and pick them off.” You peer through the foliage at the ground crew of perhaps six men, all carrying heavier weapons than you. A merc or trawling team, certainly. There are indigenous people tied to posts on one end of their small camp.

There is only one man you can see with a rail gun, staring out at the trees with a frown. The rest of them seem to be waiting around aimlessly, sitting around a low fire and talking while something cooks on the flames.

You quickly dispatch them, over and over as they scatter and shoot into the trees. Ezra kneels next to you, watching through his scope levels on a fallen log as you pick them off. When two men are left, hands raised and guns on the ground in surrender, you get up and go down the slope to the clearing.

“Hey what the fuck, lady!” One of them yells. You put your muzzle on his forehead and he clenches his jaw, glaring at you, and then Ezra, in turn. Ezra keeps his barrel trained on the other man, watching out of the corner of his eye as the man’s hand inches toward his belt. The rail gun zips loudly in the clearing, once, and the second man falls into the leaves, dead. Your prisoner flinches and grits his teeth, snarling wordlessly at you both.

“You can join your friends’ corpses as they rot here, or you can hitch a ride off this planet with us. Either way, your ship is ours, now.”

He relents, and you leave Ezra to watch him while you start digging in the pockets of the dead for the ship's starter. Finally, you go and cut the bindings off the huddled group of natives and watch them scatter. You hear a shout, and come back to find a dead body on the ground. Ezra shrugs at you and you nod, certain there was a decent enough reason. Regardless, the assholes were kidnapping people to sell, and you're not sorry they're dead. You say as much to Ezra as you clamber into the ship and prep it for flight, checking all sensors as you flip them. The ship starts right up, humming happily, and you take off.

You glance at him and then look out the skyport, noting how close the landing site of the other ship actually was to your own once you're in the air. “Would you do it again?” You ask, slamming the shields off and diverting full engine power to the thrusters until you break atmo.

Ezra looks at you, confounded, and his brow asks the question for him: do what, birdie?

“The choice you made. When you lost your arm. Would you make that choice again? If you knew the consequence?”

“Yes. I believe I would.”

“Why?”

He is quiet for a moment, watching through the window at the fast- disappearing planet. “Because it was the best choice at the time. And it was mine to make. No one forced me; not even the situation coerced my decision. It offered our enemy a moment of peace, and then a moment of retribution when my side betrayed them. And it was well-deserved retribution. So yes, birdie. I’d do it again.”

You nod, your fingers tightening around the steering shafts. “So would I. What we did down there. What I chose.”

Then it was the right choice, his sigh says, and he leans his head back, eyes closed, while your ship breaks atmo.

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - Some more action this time around. I don't write too many of those types of scenes, so with any luck they are as thrilling as I hope them to be! Please enjoy, and thank you for your continued support through my Sam Coe Hoe Era <3

WARNINGS: Strong language from reader, space battles.

With the grav drive activated, the threads of space and time shot by in an inspiring painting of bright lights. Distant stars and planets, shooting by as if they were inches apart instead of lightyears. You’d dimmed the interior lights to get the full effect, the silence a fitting backdrop for the show in display. Times like this, you’d often wonder how anyone could go their entire lives not traveling the expanse of space like this. What a view they were missing out on…

Lounged in your cockpit to wait out the travel time to the next system, your eyes watched the black sea fold before the ship as you traveled forward. Cora had stayed up to watch the sight a few hours previously, jabbering on about anything space-related she’d read in her most recent books, but now both her and her father were asleep in the living quarters one deck below. Good. After the non-stop missions you’d run searching for artifacts, they both deserved the rest.

Barrett and Gideon were likely in the rec room just down the way from the sleeping quarters, shooting the shit while you traveled your course to your destination. There was little for them to do while the grav drive was engaged, but you felt it necessary to keep to the day and night shift rotations, if only not to butcher any sort of routine sleep schedule for your crew. Better that than to be unprepared in the case of an ambush from Spacers or, even worse, the Crimson Fleet.

Vasco, of course, didn’t sleep. But you’d set him to cataloguing and organizing the ship’s cargo after your latest expedition dealing with Spacers who’d taken over an abandoned mining facility. To the victor went the spoils, as Sam always liked to say. Better that those damned pirates had less equipment to work with, anyway. Like vultures, they’d eventually flock back to where their dead fell, collecting any supplies left behind and likely picking up where they left off. At the very least, selling off their armaments was an acceptable repayment for the inconvenience of having to deal with them almost everywhere you landed.

Drifting away with your thoughts, three rapid beeps drew your gaze to the navigational projection screen in the cockpit of the Razorleaf. The final stretch of your journey was nearly finished. Sitting up straighter in your chair, you stretch your shoulders and neck, letting out a sigh at the relief it brought.

You press the button to intercom only to the rec room—so as not to wake your two sleeping companions. “Approaching the Sagan system, ETA 20 minutes. Prepare for grav drive disengagement.”

There’s no immediate indication that anyone had heard you, mostly because there was no need to scramble to stations with this much prior warning. Out of habit, you glance over the system statuses. All nominal, nothing of note to be concerned about. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of boots on the rungs of a ladder, and Barrett is the first to speak as he takes his place somewhere behind you.

“Evening, Captain.” His deep, naturally-booming voice sounds all the louder in the small cockpit. You can hear his smile without having to look at it.

“Barrett.” You greet with a small twist in your chair and a nod. Then, a thought occurs to you, and a grin plants itself on your face. “So, who won?”

“I did!” A voice calls from just below the ladder, and Gideon is next to emerge from the below deck. His smiling face says all as he straightens from the rungs. “Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

“If I recall, it was a stalemate.” The dark-skinned man retorted with a chuckle as he took his seat. “But if it helps you sleep at night, we’ll say you win this time.”

“Stalemate? Hardly.” Gideon took his place at the opposite crew station, turning in his chair to point at his board game opponent. “I was a few turns away from capturing your FOB, and your production facility was surrounded.”

“I think you mean to say ‘strategically positioned,’ my friend.”

You turn back to the command console as they continue debating who in fact had come out victorious this round of Star Frontiers—if memory served right, Barrett was still up 4 to 2 with Gideon—and begin settling in place for entering the system. There were still several minutes to go, so you sat and relaxed as the ship counted down the necessary time left.

Eventually, another beep from the ship’s console alerted you the the immediate, impending disengagement of the grav drives. With a loose grip on the throttle and another on the steering mechanism—it wouldn’t be the first time you’d damaged the hull because of some asteroid field suddenly manifesting into existence in front of you—you watch as the grav drive’s timer ticked down to zero.

As it disengaged, you felt that familiar pull of gravity deep in the pit of your stomach. The ship didn’t falter or shudder, but the painting of lights and lines as you’d traversed through the fold slowly lengthened and morphed until you caught a view of the star system of Sagan. All this in the blink of an eye.

So fast, in fact, it took you a solid two seconds to adjust to the change and notice the fleet of ships now pinging your proximity scanner. Too far away for a solid visual quite yet, but you preferred to be overly cautious in known Crimson Fleet territory.

Gideon’s concerned voice floated over to you. He must have noticed too. “Uh, Captain-?”

“I see them.” You say, eyes narrowing out into the endless black, speckled sea of space. You just manage to see the tail-end of their thrusters against the darkness. With one touch of a screen, you initiate a data scan of the ships. Before the report even comes through, your communication array is already pinging with an incoming transmission. In the distance, you see the group move to face your direction.

You hesitate before accepting it. The voice on the other end is…predictably malicious. “We’re going to make this real simple for you. Let us board and you might all live, or die to the vacuum of space as we blow your ship to bits.”

Probabilities are running through your head, but apparently the silence in those precious few seconds isn’t what he was wanting to hear. “You have until my ship gets within missile range to respond.”

“Barrett how fast can the grav drive re-engage?”

“We’d need about 10 minutes for the fuel tanks to be refilled. Vasco!” He commed directly to his robot companion from his station. “Whatever you’re doing right now, drop it and get us refueled as soon as you can. We’re about to have trouble.”

“Acknowledged.” Is the robotic, tinny response.

Too long on the refuel. The Crimson Fleet ships would be upon you by then. You bite your lip, cursing this whole situation. The math wasn’t in your favor, either in engaging in combat or attempting a retreat. That left you with little choice…

Leaning forward, you tap the button to transmit your own message. “This is Captain Y/N of the Razorleaf. We…will prepare to be boarded.”

You could hear Gideon make an astonished sound behind you, but ignore it in favor of listening to the pirate’s response. “Wise choice.” The transmission cut off with a blip, and the cockpit is silent for all of one second.

“Captain, how-“

“I’m not letting them onboard this ship, Gideon.” You reassure with a firm voice, any and all relaxation leaving your shoulders as you straighten in your chair and strap yourself in. “They’ll find that out soon enough. Redirect some power from the grav drive to shields and engines while Vasco refuels.” You’d sooner die than have them anywhere near the inquisitive young girl you had onboard.

Speaking of…remembering that your two other companions were still sound asleep below deck, you hit the full-ship intercom to wake them. “Sam and Cora, strap into something down there and brace for evasive maneuvers. Five Crimson Fleet ships inbound. Repeat, Crimson Fleet ships inbound.”

Once again, there’s no signal to tell you that they heard your com, but you trusted that Sam had woken up at the very least and sprung to action. The group of ships had continued their way towards you, their hulls painted with the signature skull motif growing more visible as the distance between shortened.

With one slow inhale, and carefully controlled exhale, your hands take control of the steering and thruster throttles. The odds weren’t exactly in your favor here, but with any luck, the element of surprise will give you enough of an edge to make it through.

You weren’t about to let Cora die a gruesome death in space. You weren’t about to let Cora die at all. Fuck that and fuck these pirates.

The fleet of ships drifted closer, their speed now slowing in preparation to connect to your docking bay. Crimson Fleet ships were always designed to intimidate, and you had to admit, they were doing their job. Large guns and missile mounts alongside their hulls made for quite a threatening picture. Had this been a merchant or exploration vessel, you doubt you would have had any chance at all.

Gideon says something, but in your concentration, you don’t hear him. A few more seconds…they drift closer. You swallow, anticipation and trepidation in equal parts buzzing just under your skin.

There’s no signal or sign to cause you to engage the engines at full thrust with your boost enabled. It came out of nowhere, and the Razorleaf shoots forward out from the group of ships that had been preparing to box you in. You’re pressed back into your chair, the pressure grounding you as you spin the Razorleaf on a tilt, the distant stars shifting in your cockpit’s view.

Gideon half cursed and praised the sudden change in velocity, but otherwise remained quiet and focused at his station. Barrett was unusually silent, but you were thankful for his lack of interruption or witty quip that was so typical of him. Now wasn’t the time as you began your flight away from the pirates.

Another incoming transmission pinged on your communication array, but you simply denied it, not bothering to give the pirate anymore of your attention.

It would be too much to ask to cleanly get away from the fleet without them firing a single shot. It’s less than a minute before you see the first of the laser fire shoot past your ship and out into the space beyond. With a flick of your wrist, the Razorleaf banks and plummets below their firing line, sending them to chase you through the emptiness of the black sea.

Having Sam around had definitely improved your overall piloting ability. The man was a wonder behind a command console, and you silently thanked him for all of the skill and knowledge he’d seen fit to impart upon you on your travels together. You maneuvered the ship with ease, so familiar with its ability that it felt no more than an extension of yourself, in a way.

Your console blared to life an angry red, alerts coming at you full force. ‘Enemy Missile Locked-On’ it spat at you, and you cursed.

“Shields at 86 percent.” Barrett reported, then because he figured you’d ask, “Vasco, how long before we’re topped up?”

“Should current velocity conditions persist, refueling will take an approximate 16 minutes, 39 seconds. Recommendation: stabilize current flight trajectory to decrease time required for completion.”

You feel the rumble and impact of the missile against the ship’s shielding, but your tight grip on the steering mechanism means you barely tilt off your current course at all, weaving around empty space to throw off their targeting as best you could. 

“Shields?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“49 percent. Those things ain’t no joke.” Barrett mentioned.

“Another one of those is gonna put us in a bad spot.” Gideon mentions with worry in his tone. He’s right, though, and you know it.

With few options at your disposal, you make the realization that evading was only going to last you so long. The Razorleaf had superior shields, but under the onslaught of 5 ships’ weapons systems firing upon you at the same time, they would melt away in minutes just the same as any other ship.

Offensive action was now required.

“Gideon, divert all power from the grav drive to main weapons. Keep shields and engines at their current level.” You order, settling as best you can in your chair. “Looks like fighting is our only way out of this now.”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

She knows what she’s doing.” Barrett chipped in, just as your weapons all clicked online. “Don’t start doubting her now.”

You release a steadying breath, focusing on nothing but the impending fire fight. The throttle seems to hum in reassurance beneath your fingers, and with a resolute prayer to protect those you loved most in the deck below, you activated the boost and shot forward.

4 seconds, then 5, passed as you gained ground in front of the chasing ships. Then, right at the end of your boost, you addressed Gideon. “Cut all engine power.”

Thankfully, he didn’t voice his confusion this time, and simply followed orders. Just as the engines cut off, you jerked the throttle to the side, spinning the. Razorleaf in a free-floating turn to face your attackers. For all of 7 or 8 seconds you continued drifting forward, but space shifted in your cockpit view. This was a risky maneuver, but one that you had successfully employed before.

And then the pursuers came into view as you finished your 180 degree turn. Seeing the ships coming closer with the lasers still firing your direction, you shout once more. “Engines full power!”

The Razorleaf burst to life, the velocity once more shoving you back into the seat and propelling you forward. With a direct line on the first of the approaching ships, trigger finger clamps down on the gear like a vise, shooting the lasers from your upgraded main guns straight into those of the Crimson Fleet vessel.

“Enemy guns down.” Barrett reported proudly, but you’re already onto the one behind it by the time he finishes his sentence, managing to get a lock-on to the ship. A well-placed EM shot took down their shields, and your follow up laser blast no doubt damaged some parts of their hull on the port side.

At your current speed, you shot past them with a tilt of your steering mechanism. The whole thing lasted barely 12 seconds, but it had slowed down to what felt like a lifetime. Barrett, shields?”

“41 percent. Looks like you disabled the second ship. Only 4 more to go.” He reassured with something akin to pride in his voice. You manage a small grin, but don’t let your attention up from the stars before you.

More laser shots hit your shield and past it off into the black sea. More evasive maneuvers puts you in a better position to return fire, though it’s little more than a dogfight. Time passes strangely; what feels like an eternity is mere seconds and the span of a breath, and in the moments of breathless waiting you swear it happened in an instant.

The second ships sparks and explodes in a shower of metal debris in similar fashion to the first, your EM weapon making quick work of the shields, only to be followed up with a barrage of laser fire. Only 3 ships remained, and your shields had so far held steady at 37 percent.

Another missile lock-on warning blares across your screen, sending the adrenaline up a notch. Another boost and you’re suddenly out of range of the enemy’s targeting. Really, tangible hope begins to blossom in your chest as the third ship falls. Your wing grazes some of the debris, and you grit your teeth against the reverberation it sends through the ship.

“Fuck!” You shout, nearly colliding with one of the remaining Crimson Fleet ships as you attempt another evasive roll and bank to get away from his companion’s laser fire. Something loud bangs as you pass, and Barrett cursed under his breath just loud enough for you to hear. “Status?”

“Shields at 9 percent, Captain.” His sentence is punctuated by more laser fire, and he shakes his head at his screen. “Make that 6 percent.”

“These fuckers…” You mutter, angry that they’d been laying here in wait to begin with. Angry that the Crimson Fleet even existed. Maybe once all this artifact business was done, you’d reconsider the SYSDEF’s offer after all. At this point, you’d do anything to see them all wiped from the universe.

Another swift roll of the ship and you shoot forward through the bits of debris through one of the already destroyed ships, making sure to avoid the biggest parts just in case. Your shields wouldn’t hold up much longer, and especially not with the 2 remaining ships still firing at you. Luckily, one comes into view in your cockpit, and your EM weapon was ready to dole out its deadly effects.

This one doesn’t take out the shields, rather the engine. Just as well, you think, leaving the ship to stall out in empty space as you continue on with the last ship in pursuit. Another angry beeping sound alerts and diverts your attention.

“We’ve lost shields.” Barrett warns.

“Now or never.” You tell yourself, bracing for a risky move yet again. “Gideon, cut engines!”

Once more, you feel the Razorleaf lose momentum just as you pull up sharply on the throttle. The view of space tilts in your cockpit as you circle around to face the final working ship. You feel and hear as your ship takes damage, but you can’t focus on that until later. With another sharp order, your engines are back online and your weapons are full-blasting in the direction of the enemy ship.

Amongst the beeping on your console and the the celebration of Barrett and Gideon as the Crimson Fleet ship suffers an explosion—one of your lasers must have hit something vital—you can barely hear anything at all. Your ears ring, what from no one knows. But you sit there, adrenaline still coursing through you as you slow the ship to a more gentle velocity.

The command console still blares, but you shakily reach for the com. “Vasco, damage report.”

“Shield generator and port-side KE-42 Cannon sustained moderate damage. Left wing sustained minimal contact damage. All other ship systems nominal.”

“Any damage below deck?”

“Habitation units sustained no damage.” Then, as if he predicted what exactly you were trying to get at, he added, “Life signs for Sam Coe and Cora Coe are nominal.”

“Thank god.” You whisper to yourself, finally leaning back and unstrapping yourself from the pilot seat. “Vasco, please resume refueling the grav drive. Gideon, reroute power from weapons back to the drive, and Barrett, do an extensive scan of the area to make sure there aren’t any other ships coming to back up those ones.”

You received a smattering of affirmatives from your crew, before slumping forward in your seat. Your legs felt like jelly and the rest of you buzzed with the unused adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Barrett must have noticed your sorry state, because you feel his hand on your shoulder after a moment. When you look up, he’s smiling at you. “That was some damn good piloting.”

“Thanks.”

He gestures to the rest of the ship behind him. “Go on and have yourself a rest, Captain. Gideon and I will handle it from here.”

“But-“

“If we need you, we’ll let you know.” He implies, not giving you the option to refuse. And truthfully, in your shaken-up state, you’re in no position to either. Nodding your acceptance, you somehow manage to stand and make your way towards the ladder to the deck down below. After all of the rolling and moving, it feels strange standing and walking on a static deck. The space seems to sway around you.

However, your head spins before you make it all the way. Dizziness overtakes you, and you sink down onto your cot just feet away. The bed is firm beneath you, but it’s enough to get your bearings on. You plant your face in your hands and exhale a shaky breath, elbows propping you up on your knees.

You’d nearly lost everything. You’d nearly lost your crew. You’d nearly lost Sam and Cora. That scared you more than any number of Crimson Fleet ships baring down on you. It had been too damn close. Too fucking close for your comfort.

Another shuddering breath escapes you, ears still ringing and hollow after such an ordeal. The weight of responsibility, to protect the ones you love most, presses ever downward on your shoulders and back. It would crush you if you let it.

Instead, a gentle hand is upon your back and a gentle voice draws your thoughts from spiraling downward. “Hey. You hangin’ in there?”

It feels like too much to lift your head and look Sam in the eyes. Instead, you simply allow your muscles to shake and shudder as the last of the adrenaline leaves you in a rush. You can’t speak, words failing uselessly at the tip of your tongue. But Sam seems to understand, and simply sits beside you, rubbing smooth circles into your back.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling your arms easily until you’ve buried your face in his leather jacket and wrapped your arms around his back. Maybe he knows where your anxiety was originating, because he whispers all the reassurances he can into your ear. “We’re alright. Cora’s alright. A little motion sickness maybe, but we’re still breathin’, darlin’.”

A deep breath fills your nose with his scent. Familiar and safe and just like home. Hearing him speak, feeling his warmth and the beat of his heart underneath the layers of his clothes…you slowly begin to use them to ground yourself back to the present, away from a possible reality where you all floated lifelessly through the dark empty void of space for eternity. No, Cora was alive. Sweet Cora and her father that you held so dear.

You feel the rumble of the grav drive come to life somewhere on the ship. Vasco must have finished the refueling. That revelation does ease some of your nerves. You lift your face away just enough to speak. “It was so close, Sam.”

“Yeah, but no cigar.” You feel Sam prop his chin on your head and pull you in just that little bit closer. “Five ships…Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“More like crazy…”

“A bit of that too, maybe.” You can practically feel the smile when he presses a kiss against your head. “But hey…Any day we aren’t space debris is a win, right?”

You sigh, deciding to let the man comfort you for once, letting go of some of the stubborn guilt that tried eating away at you. It was warm and comfortable, and right now, nothing sounded better than a nap. “Right.”

“Get some sleep, ok?” He encourages, pulling away so he can finally look you in the eyes. Pride and warmth swims behind them, and you can’t look away. Eventually you nod, and he flashes a wider smile, bringing your head closer to place another kiss, this time to your temple.

“We’ll all be here when you wake up.” Is his promise. One you know he would always keep.

[umgeorge]

george russell is interviewed during the drivers parade, monaco - may 26, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "George, it was one-thousandth from P4. It was a very close battle in quali. Is that what you expect also in the race?" George: "Yeah, I think it will be. It's always difficult overtaking here in Monaco, but I think you need to be faster on the pit stops and I think with two McLarens, two Ferraris in front, maybe there's some strategic games being played, so maybe there's an opportunity for us to do something." Interviewer: "How satisfying is it to see three constructors in front of the first Red Bull on the grid?" George: "Yeah, I guess. I don't really see it like that, to be honest. I think Red Bull have had a tricky few races, but we still have to remember they've won every single race, almost, this year, or could have won every race this year if it wasn't for failures or strategy, so you know, they're still the dominant team and I'm sure they'll be back to their normal pace from next race onwards." Interviewer: "It's your second home race here! How do you feel?" George: "Yeah, I mean, it's great being able to sleep at home. Obviously a lot of drivers living here now, driving through these streets on many occasions, so it's pretty surreal seeing how tight and narrow it is and we're obviously doing the race here this afternoon." Interviewer: "Good luck! Thank you."

[meowcats734]

[Soulmage] Book II, Episode 17: Forgiveness is Vines

I realized I'd attuned determination later that night. It was the first accidental attunement I'd had in years, which some part of me found darkly amusing—even when I wasn't actively trying to pull ahead of Lucet, luck still handed me yet another attunement on a silver platter.

After a bit of thought, it was pretty clear how it'd happened, too. I'd done everything I could to keep Lucet determined on our hellish slog of a journey through the Redlands at war, and conversely, I'd shattered the determination of Iola's goons back at the Silent Academy when I was protecting Freio. And up until now, the same drive that had led me to constantly be better had kept my legs moving and my mind ticking, even through the horrors and deaths I'd absorbed from soul fragments over and over and over again.

But apparently, this was one time too many. Because when I closed my eyes and searched my soul, there was not a single shard of determination left in me.

Just memories of senseless deaths, with no promise that we wouldn't find the same when we finally reached Jiaola.

I'm not entirely sure if closing my eyes and lying down counted as sleeping, but it was in the same general shape and it tricked my brain into thinking I could keep going, so I eventually hauled myself out of bed. It was a shame—it really was quite comfortable compared to the campsites I was used to.

Sansen was still sleeping off the battle that had taken place in his soulspace, which I didn't blame him for. He was old, after all. Probably going to die soon. Might as well flirt with death before making a committment.

I clenched my jaw, trying to shake off the thoughts. Focusing on the world around me, instead of the whispers in my head. The faded wooden floor, the musky sweat-smell in the air, the quiet rush of unnatural wind... the physical reality around me may not have been great, but it was leagues better than letting the voices in my head have free reign over my mind.

Lucet. Lucet always made the voices fade a little. Maybe... maybe I could find her.

She wasn't in bed, of course. I didn't even have to close my eyes to find her—concentrating on my soulsight showed me that she was standing outside, still chipping off shards of sorrow from the ever-growing mountain of it within her soul. With the thirteen attunements I now held, her soul was a riot of emotions—salt, glass, oil, quartz, all rattling and flowing in their own curious paths, and all separate, simply passing through each other without interacting whenever Lucet pushed salt out of her soul. I supposed it made sense that without an attunement to any other emotions, Lucet couldn't affect them—if different emotions could physically interact with each other in one's soul, there'd be a spew of random effects with every spell as the caster accidentally shoved their other emotions out.

Lucet must have sensed me approaching, because she slowed in her casting. Wide swathes of frozen earth bore testament to the fruits of her labor—she was getting used to the amplification of frost magic that the massive rift overhead provided. When she turned to me, her eyes were reddened from lack of sleep.

"Don't tire yourself out," I said. "We need you."

"I couldn't sleep," Lucet said. "I figured I might as well do something useful."

Well, I couldn't blame her—that was the exact same logic that had sent me out last night digging for soul shards. But I was nothing if not a quick learner. "Sometimes, the most useful thing you can do is get a good night's rest," I said. "Not... not that I even managed that."

"Cienne, I appreciate you trying to help, but telling me that the most useful thing I can do is do nothing isn't exactly what I need to hear right now," Lucet snapped.

I winced. There wasn't really any point in saying that I didn't mean it that way. It didn't matter what I'd intended right now.

It mattered what she heard.

"You're not useless, Lucet," I pleaded. "You saved my life back at the Silent Peaks—the nurse said I would've died if you hadn't flash-cooled my injuries. And again when we were fighting Iola—if you didn't route us through the Plane of Elemental Frost, that eldritch abomination would have gotten us killed or worse."

"I didn't say I was always useless," Lucet said, clenching her fists. "That's the worst part. I used to be powerful. I used to be helpful. But now?" She gestured at me. "There isn't even a word for a mage who has as many schools of magic as you do. Don't pretend that I'm worth something because I can use salt. You can use salt, and quartz, and glass, and oil, and you've probably somehow picked up even more attunements when I wasn't looking. Sansen can see the future, Meloai doesn't need to eat or sleep, but me?" Lucet gestured at herself, oil and quartz rattling in her soul, and I wished so badly I could tell her how to unlock those powers for herself. But unless she had an attunement to the relevant emotions—passion for oil, determination for quartz—the resources in her soul would be useless to her.

As useless as she thought she was.

I stopped walking and turned to Lucet. The gently falling snow formed a haze around us, and it was as if we were the only two people in the world. "I can touch more magics than you, that's true," I said. "But that doesn't mean you're useless. You're smart, and determined, and kind, and you're a hundred times better with salt than I'll ever be, because you've worked hard on your specialty for every day of your life."

"..." Lucet closed her eyes, swallowing, and I felt the quartz-determination in her soul shift, the rivers of oil-fury slowing into a smoother passion. And it hurt so much to see that she could be determined and passionate and still tearing herself apart, because she was determined and passionate about tearing herself apart. And I wished so badly that I could tilt her head up and get her to have hope in the future again. That I could spark that fire in her soul. That I could spark... spark...

Sparks.

I didn't have an attunement to hope. I couldn't pluck flame from my soul and gift it to hers. 

But what I did have to work with was determination. Quartz.

And when two pieces of quartz were struck together, they made a spark.

Acting on instinct, I asked, "Can I put my hand to your heart?"

She blinked. "What?"

"There's... something I want to try." I bit my lip. "I don't know if it'll work, but... I just... I just want you to know that you're not useless, and that I care about you so, so much. And... maybe there's a way for me to show you that."

Lucet tilted her head, her messy brown hair sliding away from her eyes.

Then she nodded, taking my hand and placing it over her heart.

I closed my eyes, focusing on my soulsight. If I was casting a normal spell, I would have reached into my own soul, accessing the many materials stored within—but I was trying something different.

I focused my will and touched Lucet's soul instead, picking up two pieces of quartz-determination. Like any two different emotions did, they simply phased through everything around them—the sorrowful salt, the shameful glass... and the oil of passion.

"I know what it's like," I whispered. "To be overshadowed. To be inadequate. To never be enough. Not for the people around you, but for the voices in your head."

And as I spoke, I struck the two crystals of quartz against each other.

Clack.

"My first attunement wasn't to sorrow, or to determination, or even to shame. I didn't wield salt or quartz or glass." My fingers clenched, just a little bit, and Lucet laid her hand on mine. "When I first learned magic, I was a witch of self-hatred."

Sparks flew in Lucet's soul, but... something was missing. The sparks and the oil slipped right through each other, like drawings on two layered sheets of paper. 

Clack.

"So trust me when I tell you that I understand. That I know what it's like when even praise of your abilities feels like salt on an open wound, that if the people around you think you are beautiful and brilliant and good that it is simply because you've tricked them somehow, and that they'll hate you even more for it when they realize how useless you really are. I get it." I pressed my forehead against her chest, feeling her heartbeat sync with mine. "And I get how determined you have to be to keep going anyway."

I was attuned to both determination and passion. Why not use both of them at once? Why not combine them? I had done so before with passion and sorrow and self-hatred, on pure instinct.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

"And I love you, Lucet," I whispered. "Truly. I do. So please... see yourself how I see you. And trust me. Trust me that I'm right about you."

I struck the two quartz crystals against each other in Lucet's soul one last time, letting out a fountain of sparks, and something in my soul rotated.

And the sparks touched the oil, and her soul caught alight. Determination and passion fused, creating a beautiful, brilliant, ethereal fire, a magic that I could not see or touch or hear except when I closed my eyes and opened my mind—but wasn't that where all the most powerful magics lived, anyways?

I opened my eyes, letting my soulsight fade as I returned to mundane reality, and even though her soul was hidden from me, the fires of hope danced bright in her eyes as she gave me a wavering, growing smile.

And the flames in her soul kept the darkness at bay as the two of us embraced in the storm.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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[cutielando]

win | g.r.

synopsis: in which he finally gets a win

my masterlist

Waiting for your first win ever was excruciating.

Going into every race thinking it might be the one and then slowly losing hope as the race would progress, realizing there was even more waiting in store before it would happen.

That's how George felt.

He had been in Formula 1 for quite some years now, but his win seemed nowhere near happening. He was slowly losing hope, getting used to the idea that he wouldn't win a race in the near future.

His family kept reassuring him that his time would come, but George's faith in himself left his body with each race that passed.

You knew how frustrating it must be, seeing all the drivers around you consistently getting wins and you struggling to get just one.

It was tough on someone's mind, it would ruin their thinking.

You, however, didn't let yourself think like that. He had been so close to winning so many times, you could feel it in your bones that his win was approaching with fast steps.

And oh, how right you were.

♡♡♡♡♡

Silverstone was a fan-favorite track on the F1 calendar for the fans, but it was even more special to both George and you.

You met at Silverstone, you started attending every race after it and became George's good luck charm, it was his home race and the UK was home for the both of you.

Plenty of reasons that supported your certainty that George would get his win at Silverstone.

He had been a nervous wreck all weekend, aware of how much the track meant for everyone, including you and his family, and he wanted to perform well.

"Baby, can you calm down? You're stressing yourself out for nothing" you had tried calming him down at your apartment in the morning before he had to get to the circuit.

He had barely slept, didn't want to eat anything ahead of the day and had been pacing all around the apartment since the moment he opened his eyes.

"I can't. Don't you realize how much is at stake here? I can't disappoint everyone again and not win this one. I'm going to be a failure and everybody will hate me" your heart broke when you heard George talk about himself so poorly.

You quickly got up and jumped in front of him, finally making him come to a halt and stop pacing around.

"You listen to me, Georgie. Nobody is going to hate you if you don't win today. I know you think they will, but they won't. Their support and love for you doesn't depend on whether or not you get a win today or in the next race. You're still young, baby, you have so much time to show the potential and talent you have, so many great years ahead of you. Your win will come at the right time. Please don't be so hard on yourself, I hate seeing you talk so badly about yourself" 

He bit his lip but nodded, kissing you on the forehead before bringing you in for a hug.

"I'm sorry for being like this. I just want to make you and our families proud" his voice was muffled slightly because he had buried his face in your hair, but you understood him nonetheless.

"We're proud of you no matter what. We just want you to have fun and be safe. If you end up winning, we'll cheer you on. If you don't end up winning, we'll still cheer you on. We'll love you no matter what" you stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his, silence sealing the promise that you would love him no matter what.

It was all he had needed to hear, his body slowly relaxing under his touch.

And it was also all he had needed to hear to motivate him to win today.

♡♡♡♡♡

You had never seen George drive so well. 

From the moments the lights had gone out, he had been driving like his life depended on it. He was overtaking like it was second nature, battling for position with Lewis before the team had ultimately made the decision to switch cars because George was faster, racing Max for the first place like he had never before.

The whole garage was on the edge of their seats, staring at the screens with anticipation.

It wasn't until George had overtaken Max and crossed the checkered flag first that the chaos and celebrations had really begun.

Engineers high-fiving each other, shaking hands and screaming in delight, you and George's parents hugging in a corner away from the madness.

You hadn't even realized you had been crying until Alison had wiped off your tears, laughing when you noticed that she had been crying too.

As you walked out of the garage with the rest of George's team and waited for him to return to the pitlane, you couldn't help the excitement flowing through your veins.

All the sweat, the tears, the bad races, the bad strategies, the hopes and dreams of being a Formula 1 Grand Prix winner had finally paid off.

George had officially become a race winner.

And you couldn't be more proud of him.

When you saw his car approaching and parking in front of Number 1, you felt more tears run down your cheeks as you observed him getting out of the car. 

The moment his helmet had come off, his eyes were searching for you in the crowd. When he spotted you, he gave his helmet to one of his engineers and quickly jumped over the barriers, scooping you up in his arms and twirling you around.

"You did it!" you exclaimed in his ear, holding onto his body tightly.

"I did it for you" he said, kissing your neck before putting you down.

"I'm so proud of you, my love. You can't even understand" you said as you held his face in your hands, running your fingers through his damp hair.

"I couldn't have done it without your support" he said before leaning down and kissing you, smiling a little when you both head his team wolf-whistle behind you.

As you stood there in the pitlane embracing each other, celebrating his first ever win, you knew that you would overcome everything life would throw at you together.

The win didn't just belong to George.

It was a win for both of you.

Yours.

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[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Marvel vs Miraculous: How to Do a Final Battle

I finally put my finger on the heart of the issue with Miraculous Season Five's final. To explain this, I'm going to talk about another superhero franchise that actually did the final fight well: Avengers Endgame. While that movie has a lot of issues, the final fight wasn't one of them and I'm picking it for one reason: the big, climactic moment does not go to the whole team. It goes to one character, but I've never seen a fan complain that the other characters were left out.

The trick is that Endgame has the excitement and the tension build and build as the final fight goes on. It starts with a massive hype moment (portals opening) and goes through lots of narratively satisfying moments like Captain Marvel punching out a spaceship or Thor and Captain America trading Mjölnir back and forth. Every major, living character gets an "Oh shit!" moment to drive their fans wild.

Miraculous tried to do the same thing and completely failed.

Because Gabriel still had all of the miraculous, no one had powers, so there was no one to show up and make the audience get excited other than characters from the specials and team Luka, which was literally introduced during the final!

None of these characters feel like a big payoff for five seasons worth of buildup because they weren't part of the seasons! Some viewers might not even know who Fei and the Americans were! They're from specials that you have to specifically know about and search out. If I pull up Miraculous on Disney+, they're not included in the episode list. They're separate entries.

These characters also don't actually help Marinette. They just save the resistance, who really aren't important to the story. You can ignore all of those fight scenes and the big fight between Marinette and Gabriel wouldn't change in the slightest because there's nothing Marinette needs from them. The closest we get is Plagg getting the ring to Marinette, but that's Plagg's solo mission that no one else helps with. He just lucks into the knowledge of where Marinette is.

You may be starting to see where I'm going with this.

Here's my thought: Luka knows Adrien's identity. Why not let that have a payoff? While we're at it, why not have all these random characters work together so that randos are useful to the characters we know and love?

Here's the rewrite with no major changes to the payoff and no changes to the rest of canon:

Adrien breaks out of his prison in London and gets the ring to Paris, but he's been plagued by nightmares the entire way. He's barely holding it together and he knows that he's in no shape to help his Lady. But wait! Luka's in Paris. He sees Chat Noir flying in and meets him while the others hold off the bots. Adrien detransforms and hands the ring off. Luka promises to take it from there.

Luka rejoins his team (who didn't see Adrien) and starts fighting through the streets of Paris, knowing that they have to find Ladybug, but they've got no idea where she is.

Enter: the resistance!

Nino, Alya, and team are also fighting their way through Paris and they run into Team Luka, who tells them that Chat Noir is down and needs them to get the ring to Ladybug, but no one knows where she is. They get bogged down by goons. Luka and co are trying to protect the resistance, but it's not working. They're going to lose.

Enter: Dragon Fei!

Only she's not here for a solo mission. She can't take the ring and fight after all. Someone needs to become a dragon rider. Luka is torn about leaving his sister behind, so Alya tells him to stay and she'll be the ring bearer!

Dragon Fei and Alya take to the skies and the moment Plagg saw repeats, letting them know where Ladybug is. But how do they get inside and find her?

Oh look, it's the Americans with magic door man! Fei lands and joins the Americans in fighting while Alya talks to door dude. He opens a portal, but the place is full of enemies and they can't fight their way through, so Plagg takes the ring from here and flies off to find Ladybug. He finds her, we get Bugnoir, and the final proceeds as originally planned.

We still get the disappointing ending with Gabriel winning, but at least the lead up was epic, no identities were revealed, and Adrien got to do something meaningful.

Thoughts?

[joe9cool]

So Good-Joel Farabee-2

A/N: I do not know or associate with anyone on The Flyers, I only own my characters. Also you do not have permission to copy or post my stories anywhere. Thank you

December 2022.

“Atta boy guys! Way to battle and fight hard!” Joel cheered along with the locker room. They had beaten the Rangers at home. So far the season had been a bunch of ups and downs (mostly downs) but they were a rebuilding team. So there was hope for the future.

Upon exiting the locker room to the family area. He looked around to see the usual guys with their families. Sometimes parents flew in. He was fortunate that his family didn't live too far away and that they could drive Or fly to see major games.

“Hey Joel” He looked to his right to see Claire smiling at him. He had seen her at some games with Laurence and Ella. He had purposely avoided her since that night and had so far been successful. At the most he gave her a smile and a wave. Once the anger had worn down.

He had tried to push her into the back of his mind and that was the only way to successfully do that.

Until now.

“How have you been?” She asked.

Fuck she looked good. She must have just come from work and she dawned what he would say was ‘Professor Attire’ that she filled out perfectly, complete with square frames. Claire looked like every college kid's fantasy.

All of the sudden all of the memories from that August night came flooding back.

He was fucked.

“Joel?” He Realized he spaced out as Claire looked At him confused. “I'm sorry Claire, I spaced out. Happens often.” Fans didn't call him empty Headed for nothing.

“I asked if you were joining the team for Christmas at my family's house? My mom hosts some of the team And the families every year. I know you didn't come the past few times and then COVID happened. But its always a blast.”

“Umm I'm not sure.. I mean I still haven't finalized Plans with my family…” He trailed off, knowing That his parents or His brothers weren't able to come with the busy schedule.

“It's the 20th Joel.” and Morgan said you probably will be Attending with him.”

He made a mental note to murder Frosty. “Yeah I guess I'll show up for a few hours.”

She smiled. “Great! You don't need to bring anything. My family is making Everything.”

“That's a ton of food.” She laughed. “My mom owns a restaurant, remember? She is accustomed to the Chaos”

“True.” They smiled at each other, and Joel's heart skipped a beat. 

“Well I'll see you at my house for Christmas. You know where Danny lives in Haddonfield right?”

He nodded, thinking of the former player turned assistant GM. “Yeah I have been to his place a few times.”

“Then my mom’s house is literally next door. Its obnoxiously decorated so you cannot miss it. Think of the Griswold’s house in Christmas Vacation.

Joel laughed.. “Nothing wrong with that, that’s my favorite Christmas movie. Her smile brightened. “Mine too! I’ve annoyed everyone around me by quoting the movie. 

“Hey Claire, we’re heading out.” She turned back towards Sean and Laurence.  “Oh they are my ride. I’ll see you on Christmas, and good luck against the Hurricanes!” They had one more game in Carolina before they could enjoy Christmas break. As he watched her retreating figure his heart did another flip confirming what he already knew

He. Was. Totally. Fucked.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just as Claire said, her mother's home was the most decorated on the block. As he pulled up he took a deep breath. Even on the plane ride back he was lost in his own world. He wondered if her boyfriend Luke would be there. Then chastised himself for thinking that he wouldn't. It was still a family event, and it was Christmas.

The past couple of days he felt his hand hovering over the follow request on her Instagram. She was private, but had a ton of followers, practically the entire team and their wives or girlfriends. Past and present members even had some friends in common, no doubt cause of hockey. He looked at Laurence's photos to see if maybe Claire was posted with Luke. No such luck. Not even wedding photos were she was a bridesmaid.

Taking another deep breath, he got out of his car and saw Travis Sanheim and his girl right Behind him. After exchanging Pleasantries they walked up together. The door opened right away to see a middle aged woman who resembled Claire and no doubt that was her mother. 

“Hello everyone! Merry Christmas!”

“Hi Vero.” She hugged the couple before her eyes were on Joel. Feeling awkward he waved. “Hi I'm Joel. I'm on the team.”

She laughed before pulling him into a hug. “I know who you are! I'm Canadian and have lived here for over ten years. We bleed black and orange. I'm Veronique, But call me Vero. I'm so glad you could come.” She gestured them inside, and once again Joel handed her a bottle of wine. It was becoming his thing. “I'm sorry I know Claire said no gifts, but I can't come empty handed.”

The older woman laughed. “Oh that's so sweet. I raised my daughters the same way. He went to find some of his team in The massive living room, however his Eyes were surveying the room and he very quickly Found who he was looking for.

He smiled brightly when his eyes came across her. She looked beautiful, her dark hair styled to perfection. Her red dress looked cozy and festive. 

However his smile went away fast when he took in her facial expressions. She wasn't happy. In fact, she looked ready to cry.

Then he saw the person next to her and stiffened. 

A tall blonde-haired guy. Was standing next to her, his back angled towards Joel so he couldn't see his face. This had to be Luke.

And based on what he saw, He could already tell this guy was a major prick.

He was luckily distracted by Kevin and his wife coming up to greet him. It was a good distraction as it got him mingling with other teammates and his mind was off Claire. 

Until dinner was ready. As he took his seat at the long decorated table Claire and Luke sat diagonally Across from him. 

“Joel! I didn't see you. I'm glad you made it.” She smiled and he returned it. “Oh and I'm sorry this is Luke, my boyfriend.” 

He tried to refrain from making a grimace as he leaned over the table to reciprocate The handshake the other guy was holding out. “I'm Joel Farabee.”

“Luke Cross. Nice To meet you.” He sat down and took a sip of his wine. “So are you a hockey player like everyone else?”

He didn't miss the tone in Luke's voice when he said ‘hockey players.’ “Yes I'm with the Flyers.”

The blonde shook his head. “I don't know how you do it. I mean, I'm sure the money is nice. But is it worth nearly killing yourself for a hunk of Metal?”

The room seemed to be silent with the Last comment. Luke looked Around and laughed. “I'm sorry. I meant “The Cup.”

“It's more than a ‘Cup’.” York interjected and Sean shook his head. “I've tried to explain it to him”

Luke laughed. “I just don't get sports. I mean I feel like it's not necessary. You're not contributing to anything.”

Joel wanted to take the bowl of mashed potatoes in his hand and aim right towards his smug face. The fact that he was so comfortable trashing someone’s passion in front of his own girlfriend, who was Canadian and a hockey player herself. He didn’t want to imagine what went on in private 

Vero, who Was trying to keep the peace, changed the subject to focus on her other daughter Alexandra and her husband. While Alex was a lawyer, her husband Noah was a tattoo artist who ran his own shop in Philadelphia. “Do you mind showing me some of your work?” Owen asked. Noah was more than thrilled to show off his art, which Joel had to admit, was really good. “How did you and Alex meet?”He asked Noah in a separate side conversation. As it was any more possible, Noah’s smile got even bigger as he was about to talk about his favorite subject, even more so than tattooing 

“Last year Claire came in to get a tattoo, and Alex came with. We got to talking, and I just..” He trailed off and stared down his plate. “I just knew.”

“You guys just met last year and you’re married?” Tyson asked, not being able to comprehend such a short timeline. Noah laughed and began playing with the black band on his inked finger. “Yeah. We spent all of Claire’s session talking and began seeing each other immediately. Asked her to move in six months later, and then bought the ring two weeks later.” Alex now joined the conversation. “We were both cynical, as we have had our hearts broken, but it just felt right. When he asked, I said yes and we practically ran to city hall.”

Claire smiled. “We were all a bit shocked, but they are perfect together, and hey I get free tattoos now.”

Of course, the moment had to be ruined by Luke. “That’s crazy. Getting married so quick. Marriage is a serious commitment not to be taken lightly. You got to take your time. Get your life together first.”

Joel observed both sisters. Alex looked ready to rip his head off, while Claire looked dejected. “Yeah, but things are falling into place now. I just got my masters and I start my PhD program next fall.”

“Oh my god.” Luke interrupted. “Sean I got to show you what I just ordered.” He whipped out his phone and after a couple scrolls he turned the phone to face the group. “Its coming next month, my new toy.”

It was a picture of a truck, with an obnoxious shade of yellow. Sean’s jaw dropped.  “Dude you got a damn Hummer?”

Joel didn’t miss the way Claire stiffened. 

“Yep! Paid cash and customized it. Its got all of the features-” Claire excused herself to get more wine, while Alex followed her. If Joel had to guess, it wasn’t to fill up her wine glass, or maybe it was to down an entire bottle.

He chimed in on the conversation, trying to make his silence obvious, however not one person seemed to notice the sisters absence, so Joel told Travis he was going to get more water from the kitchen hoping that was where the girls were. 

The house was huge, so when he stepped into the kitchen he was confused, until he heard voices. Walking towards them, he stopped in front of the clear glass door when he saw they were in the wine cellar, Claire on the verge of tears while Alex was speaking. They looked at him and he realized he was probably looking like a massive creep. Alex opened the door.  “Are you lost Joel?”

He shook his head.  “Um no. I uh- just wanted to see if Claire was okay.”

“Alex, he can come in.” 

The door opened, and Joel came in. “I saw your reaction to his comment.” He couldn’t say his name. She sniffled.  “He didn’t tell me he bought a Hummer. I mean he mentioned it, but I didn’t think…” She trailed off..  “God this probably sounds soo stupid. We’re not married, and its his money, he can do what he wants with it. So I don’t know why I am upset.

Because he’d rather buy a sixty thousand dollar car than a ring. Joel thought but he didn’t dare say it. “Look I know I don’t have much experience with relationships, but if it upsets you you need to talk about it. Isn’t communication important or something like that?”

Claire laughed. “Oh Joel, you’re so young, but wise. Some girl is gonna be very lucky One day.”

that stung. “Yeah well. I'm not focusing on that.”

She smiled. “Let's go. I'm sure everyone is wondering where we went.” The group lect the huge cellar with a bottle of wine so it didn't look suspicious.

“Where did you go?” Laurence asked. Claire shrugged. “We all ran into each other trying to find another bottle of wine.”

“Darling. Not too much, don't want to be drunk.” Luke chimed in with a smile. Unaware that his own girlfriend was in tears over him. Claire ignored him.

Despite that hiccup, the rest of the night went off perfectly, and Joel found himself forgetting about Luke. He also couldn't help but notice Claire being drawn to him more.

However it none of that mattered as at the end of the night, Claire and Luke left together to go back to their life and Joel was going back to his condo alone.. well he had Morgan and Tyson. 

A.N. I am posting this quickly while I work on Chapter 3. Let me know if you guys are feeling this story.

[thesinglesjukebox]

CHAPPELL ROAN - "GOOD LUCK, BABE!"

Good Song, Babe!

[7.76]

Alfred Soto: Hey, y'all, Spotify played "Good Luck, Babe!" after ILLIT's "Magnetic" -- are the streaming gods Jukebox-friendly? Maybe a synth line patterned after Wham!'s "Last Christmas" and a vocal that commands attention despite singing a line like "sexually explicit kinda love affair." Then again, that's how people talk. [8]

Jeffrey Brister: What if the narrator of “I Kissed A Girl” was a fucking liar whose inability to admit her attraction and healthily process and metabolize her emotions made her so transparently readable her spurned girlfriend shot a bullet made of yearning, resentment, and justifiably venomous smugness directly between her eyes? [9]

Taylor Alatorre: I have a soft spot for music that performs a kind of empowerment driven by romantic spite, while at the same time being precision-engineered to make the singer look small-minded and weak to the sober bystander; this is why I can never forswear Drive-Thru Records or pre-2016 Drake. In that vein, "Good Luck, Babe!" can be heard as a more ideologically palatable version of "Hotline Bling," right down to the self-degrading tinniness of the initial backing synths. Both songs construct a character whose presumptuous sense of entitlement becomes more apparent with time, and both ask us to sympathize with that character, not in spite of that entitlement, but because of it. Because relatability, and because we're hard-wired to believe almost any convenient lie if it's made to sound pretty enough. Chappell Roan's relative vocal restraint here represents her attempt to come off as the reliable narrator, to prevent too many of her unnervingly real feelings from spilling over. It's an effort that comes undone as soon as she gets to the bridge, when she drops the blasé affect, claims the power of omniscience, and uses it to peer into her rival suitor's future bedroom. "You're nothing more than his wife" -- sure, whatever you need to tell yourself. What, too cynical, you say? Whichever reading the listener goes with, they're choosing cynicism, either the listener's toward Chappell or Chappell's toward the other girl, who at the end of the day may just be a garden-variety bisexual; we're not allowed to know. Love is still a battlefield in the 2020s, queer love not excepted, and "Good Luck, Babe!" isn't afraid to show off the sometimes gory aftermath of those battles, caked in just enough gloss to give us the option of seeing something different in it. A potent cocktail of unraveling passions and high-grade copium, it arrives just in time to be used in AMVs of the final season of Sound! Euphonium, otherwise known as the official anime of yuri-baiting. Good luck, Kumiko! [8]

Will Adams: A breakup song directed at a queer person who was clearly uncertain, self-conscious and anxious about their identity leading them to push a great thing away? Oof. I'm the problem, it's me! But any discomfort I have with seeing myself in "Good Luck, Babe" is assuaged by its giant hooks, a bridge that mounts the tension (sadly, a rarity for pop at this point), and Dan Nigro's production, which draws from the same pillow-soft '80s synthpop of "So Hot You're Hurting My Feelings." It's the sugar to help the medicine go down. [8]

Leah Isobel: I'm convinced that Taylor caused a lesbian pop revolution. Not on purpose, obviously, but perhaps inevitably; of course her simultaneous insistence on both the femininity and the import of her perspective would inspire a generation of gay girls young enough to look for validation from pop culture and old enough to perform deep reads on the line "she's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers." Some of those artists have even made minor commercial breakthroughs, though nothing has heralded the arrival of a real-deal pop star the way that "Good Luck, Babe!" has. On a musical level, I don't know if I see it. It's catchy, sure, but its chorus isn't quite as singalongable as "Red Wine Supernova," and it doesn't sell Chappell as a persona the way "Pink Pony Club" does. Its production and vocal delivery are so arch that all I can see are the references: a little Wham! synth here, a little Marina & The Diamonds-circa-The Family Jewels whoop there, a "Bags" melodic bite for good measure. (Sidebar: I'm compiling this for an eventual piece about how Immunity is the most influential pop album of the last decade no one steal this from me thank you!) But maybe that's it. A pop star is voracious, ambitious, all-consuming; she cannibalizes. What "Good Luck, Babe!" offers isn't mushy sincerity, but steely-eyed purpose. I don't love it, but I do respect it. [7]

Hannah Jocelyn: I've written so much about about the power of "Good Luck, Babe" but I don't think it's perfect. Among my nitpicks; the "sexually explicit kinda love affair" line doesn't land, the ending nearly kills the momentum, and I've always heard some weird aliasing artifacts on the hi-hats, even in the 24/48 flac download (which might be the nerdiest thing I've ever written on TSJ). But there’s a reason I've been obsessed with this song, and it's not just because I've wound up The Other Woman in emotional affairs with queer/questioning women before. I wasn't as on board with Roan at first, then this song made me go back and get acquainted with the Femininomenon. Unlike most of Midwest Princess, this is not OMG I'm a girl??? and I like GIRLS??? music, and unlike several similar songs about loving women in denial, it's not self-pitying. This feels more real, with palpably complex emotions underneath the showy vocals, and it feels messy in a way that queer pop stars were once supposed to avoid. I could go on and on, and I have, but I'll say this: I genuinely think this song will change lives and cause people to reconsider their identities. At least one of my friends has already mentioned crying to this song. I recently spoke with a music writer that claimed music wasn't necessary, but for the right person, some songs are. [9]

Alex Clifton: I don’t know what I can say about this song that Hannah didn’t already say in her excellent Billboard article, but I’ll try. Up until now Chappell Roan has been my good-time music, with tracks like “Pink Pony Club” and “Red Wine Supernova” regularly stuck in my head.  She’s a girl from small-town Missouri in full drag regalia aiming to give everyone a great time, and she constantly delivers on that front. “Good Luck, Babe!” sounds happy but is one of the more lyrically devastating songs I’ve heard this year, and Roan’s performance is incredible. The way she screams “I TOLD YOU SO” at the end of the bridge rips at something in my heart. It’s angry as all hell but also has a level of concern; Roan doesn’t want the subject to end up in a dead-end relationship and just wishes she’d get her shit together. It’s a delicate line to thread but goes to show that Chappell Roan isn’t just a novelty pop writer. It’s exhilarating watching someone’s star rise, and to watch this song specifically become the catalyst for additional recognition is unlike anything I’ve seen before.  [10]

Ian Mathers: I was hugely impressed with "Casual," even more so with Roan's first record overall, but I'm lightly gobsmacked here with how quickly she's put out something else that simultaneously feels like it could have been on The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, like it sums up what that album was doing (and how well it does it), and like she's already moved past her work there. And it's her most successful single so far? It very much feels like things are going to keep going up from here. [10]

Jackie Powell: When “Good Luck, Babe!” came out last month, it wasn’t what I was expecting on my first listen. I got a tease from friends about what this song was about, but I was underwhelmed by the fact that I couldn’t clearly understand the story that Chappell Roan worked very hard on constructing. Her vocal style on other tracks like “Red Wine Supernova” or “Casual” is much more based in her chest voice and as a result is much easier to lyrically comprehend while listening. On “Good Luck, Babe!” Roan slurs a lot. She opts to implement much more mixing in her head voice during the hook which matches the sonic feel of the synths and drum machine that producer Dan Nigro has added in. The hook flutters and it flutters in a tone that’s paradoxical to the story she’s trying to tell. This is a song about rage, is it not? This is a song about compulsory heterosexuality, a phenomenon that is incredibly frustrating as it is prevalent in 2024. We don’t hear that rage until the absolutely mind blowing bridge where Roan’s upper register soars when she tells her past lover that she told her so. This story that Roan tells is one that so many queer people often face. It’s that same level of discomfort that Ben Platt and Renee Rapp have both sung about in their respective songs “Andrew” and “Pretty Girls.” This track’s importance can’t be understated. Its rise in popular culture can’t be undervalued. But I do wish that the story was illustrated more blatantly. Slurring aside, where is the music video for this? The video for “Casual” was exactly what a Roan fan would expect: a cross between the films Splash and Jennifer’s Body with a dash of heartbreak. I’m reminded of the queer women artists like Hayley Kiyoko and Zolita who have both gained a following for the honest queer stories they’ve portrayed in their music videos, which have garnered meaningful amounts of views. Meanwhile, DJ Louie XIVI recently had a Pop Pantheon episode that pondered if the music video is indeed dead. I would hate for that to be the case for Roan, an artist that thrives on theatrics, visuals and play— the fuel that her exponential and unexpected rise to stardom requires. [7]

Isabel Cole: I feel like it was probably deliberate to set the big bursting kiss-off chorus up in the flutiest part of her range where she can't really enunciate, but I still find it annoying to listen to. The bridge is pretty good, though. [5]

Mark Sinker: Gorgeous control of voice over bare control of desire; fragments of the crunchily expressed across the oldest (cliched, she says it herself) story, oh i'm the “other girl”!!¡¡ and then the closing device (which you can call brechtian if you’re fancy, or lazy) undermines it a little, at least musicially.  [6]

Joshua Lu: The bitter, lesbian reimagining of Gwen Stefani's "Cool" I never knew I needed. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: I am all for Chappell Roan's meteoric rise to fame as the next local drag supporting queer, but this song feels as basic camp as the fonts used in the visuals for her Coachella performance.  [6]

Nortey Dowuona: If anyone is wondering why this is the Chappell Roan hit, it's because it sounds like a synthpop song from 1986, and pop fans are still somehow locked into 1983-1988 as the best time to listen to pop music. That said, "you're standing face to face with 'I TOLD YOU SO'" is a FANTASTIC LYRIC. [9]

Katherine St. Asaph: The belted "I TOLD YOU SO" is unexpected and amazing. The part that flips the hook from "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" into a soprano trill is great -- between "Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl" ("Footloose") and "Red Wine Supernova" ("What's Up") she's now three for three on rewriting the Great Karaoke Songbook for 2024. The line "you have to stop the world just to stop the feeling" is so perfect it feels like it must have been written in stone centuries ago and just now unearthed. But if I'm being completely honest with myself, everything else in the track is pretty mid, and repeated listens just make the mid parts seem proportionally larger. [5]

Andrew Karpan: An exuberant jubilant kiss-off for fans of Roan’s last version of this (“My Kink Is Karma”) but more pointed, less funny and charged with a contemplative melancholy bellied under its titanic build. The radical space of queer longing turns into an ocean that lifts all boats. “With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife.” We are lifted and listening.  [8]

Rachel Saywitz: I worry sometimes that I’m not wanting enough. Or I want, but the wrong things. Or I don’t want the right things enough. Chappell Roan is want, maximized and poptimized, and “Good Luck, Babe” is its earnestly sweet manifestation. Roan masters pop’s narrative drama as she coaxes her past, closeted self to breathy, sapphic jubilation with the wave of a bouncing synth wand and a Florence Welch operatic belt. Love is want, at its core, and I feel it cascading through me with each listen, urging my spirit to coalesce with my mind, for once. I want, I want, I want. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[darthpastry]

Incorrect Quotes of the Kingdom Pt. 4 (Ft. FNaF SB... again)

Link: *while opening the fridge* LOVE IS AN OPEN DOOOOOOOR

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Rauru: Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Link: But also socially dead.

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Vanny: Your ancestors will find you incomprehensible and your descendants will despise your grave.

Link: *sitting in a pile of animatronic parts holding a juice box* This is by far the best compliment I've ever received.

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Gregory: I was arrested for being too cool B)

Roxanne: Charges were dropped due to lack of evidence.

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Rauru: Learn to pick your battles.

Link: I am full of rage and picking all of them.

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Gregory: just to avoid using offensive language i'm going to start using 90's surfer dude slang because inadvertently offending someone is totally bogus dude.

Tulin: People might not want to be called dude.

Gregory: you are radically right and that is so not tubular my friend i apologize.

Riju: I find your poor grammar and spelling to be offensive to my eyes.

Gregory: watch me catch this gnarly wave of i don't care

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Link: I am dumber than a mouse. I saw a glue trap in drawer and I didn't know what it was and pressed my entire hand in it and now I'm stuck in a glue trap.

Gregory: Hah! What kind of sauce looks like glue?

Link: ... barbeque sauce.

Cassie: No offense Link, but why did you stick your entire hand into what you thought was a barbeque sauce tray?

Link: I saw it, it was dark in the drawer, and I went "hehe... sauce time".

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Link: I'm going to make Ganondorf cookies.

Ganondorf: Why would you- I don't want cookies.

Link: It's not optional :)

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Link: Revali just gave me a get better soon card.

Mipha: Really? That's nice of him.

Link: I'm not sick. He just thinks I can do better.

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Tulin: Drinking water be like *slurp*

Gregory: So true.

Tulin: Haha, tell me about it.

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Link: We make eye contact and I connect to the Wi-Fi in your brain. I delete half your memories and make you left-handed.

Glamrock Chica: But I already am left-handed and I have a poor memory so good luck finding anything worth deleting.

Glamrock Chica: ....

Glamrock Chica: WAIT A MINUTE-

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Glamrock Freddy: What's the hardest thing for you to say.

Roxanne: I need help.

Monty: I was wrong.

Link: *crashes through wall with go-kart carrying him, Tulin, and Gregory, all wearing 8-bit sunglasses* "WORKESTER- WORSHURSHUR- WORCHESTER-

Glamrock Chica: Worcestershire sauce?

Link: YEAH!

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Link: Is it still murder if I give them a heads-up?

Sidon: That's called a threat.

Link: Dang.

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Link: FOUR MONTHS-

Purah: What's wrong with him?

Zelda: *snickering* Nothing, really.

Link: THAT'S HOW LONG YOU STOOD BY AND WATCHED ME WATER A FAKE PLANT-

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Zelda: Where's Link and Gregory?

Cassie: Link's teaching him how to drive.

Zelda: WHAT?!

*Meanwhile*

Link: So, there's two pedals. Sometimes three but you can ignore the left one.

Gregory: I don't think-

Link: The lines on the road are more like suggestions. Like the speed limit.

Gregory: Are you sure-

Link: I'm not sure how to turn on the blinkers. Ready?

Gregory: Uhhhhhhhhhh

Link: GO GO GO!

Gregory: *floors it*

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Gregory: WELCOME TO APPLEBEES DO YOU WANT THE APPLES OR THE BEES?

Ganondorf: What the... what bees?

Gregory: HE HAS SELECTED THE BEES

Ganondorf: Wait-

Link: *approaches, aggressively shaking a jar of bees.*

Ganondorf: WAIT NO-

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Glamrock Freddy: Gregory, Roxanne almost got hit by a car this morning!

Gregory: Yeah, almost. *Side eyes Link*

Link: *sighs* Yeah. I know. She was faster than I thought.

Glamrock Freddy: Wait-

Link: I'll get her next time though.

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Zelda: Hey Link, what do you want for Christmas?

Link: Revenge.

Zelda: What practical thing do you want for Christmas?

Link: Intruments of torture.

Zelda: What harmless thing do you want for Christmas?

Link: A new tea kettle.

Zelda: I'm not going to get it if you're going to be pouring boiling water on people.

Link: *sigh* A new pair of heels?

Zelda: And you won't stab anyone with them?

Link: *horrified gasp* Why would I do that to the heels?!

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Tulin: Dashing through the halls!

Gregory: Failed my test today!

Tulin: Don't know what to dooo!

Gregory: With my life, hooray!

Tulin: JINGLE BELLS!

Gregory: Takin' L's!

Tulin: Hit me with a sleigh!

Gregory: I'm so done.

Tulin: This isn't fun.

Tulin and Gregory in unison: THERE GOES MY GPA!

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*Post SB Princess Quest ending*

Glamrock Freddy: Vanessa, we need to talk about your professionalism.

Vanessa: *sitting cross-legged on the table with Gregory, Link, and Tulin. All wearing 8-bit sunglasses.* Mighty fine words for someone standing in lava.

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Link: You know, when I was your age...

Gregory: You know, when I was your height...

Link: ... Shut up.

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Link: 13 dollars to see a movie? *Slams Rauru's arm on the counter.* What? You want this to?

Purah: Link, I told you if you keep duping diamonds the economy will-

Link: I am a SENIOR CITIZEN! Where is my discount?!

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Yunobo: You're mad!

Link: *gluing a korok to a pile of bombs on a trebuchet* Thank goodness I am. Because otherwise this would never work.

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Link: I don't think we can gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss our way out of this one, guys.

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Glamrock Freddy and Rauru: *Staring at Gregory, Link, and Tulin in disappointment.*

Rauru: Why is it, when something happens, it's always you three.

Tulin: In my defense, it was their idea.

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Link: Hey look, I'm fire-bending! *Stabs spear with flamthrower at a bush*

Rauru: Link, Zonai devices are not a toy-

Link: Wo'er bendin'! *Throws splashfruit*

Rauru: Link, Hyrule is in danger-

Link: EARTHBENDING! *Uses earthquake technique*

Rauru: Link, please-

Link: I AM THE AVATAR HAHAHAHAHA! *Uses Tulin's sage powers*

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Purah: Do you need help getting up?

Link: Nah, I'm good down here on the floor.

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Link: Change is inedible.

Riju: Do you mean inevitable?

Link: *spits out several rupees* I do not.

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Link: My girlfriend turned into a dragon.

Sidon: That's rough, buddy. Anyway, did I tell you I'm engaged?

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Rauru: Small creatures are much more vicious because they have a smaller body to bottle up their emotions.

Ganondorf: Ridiculous, give me some examples.

Gregory: Wasps?

Link: Terriers?

Gregory: Link?

Link: Gregory?

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Gregory: Why do people have different blood types?

Link: So that the mosquitos can enjoy different flavors.

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Zelda: Link is a perfect cinnamon scone who has never done anything wrong.

Rauru: HE SET AN ENTIRE CITY BLOCK ON FIRE.

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Glamrock Freddy: I hope you three have an explanation for this.

Tulin: Not just one...

Gregory: We have four, actually!

Link: Pick your favorite!

[seakaysunhaven]

A Trip Around the World (7/25/24)

Hello! Here's a new update for you all!

Since my last post, I have officially reached 20 hearts with every romanceable in the town of Sun Haven (except for Vivi lol.) Because of this, I started working towards getting my hearts up with Nel'vari characters and getting my character to Withergate.

Here are the last couple of wedding pictures from Sun Haven:

(Also hooray! I made it to year 2!)

Somehow, I managed to finish the entire Nel'vari questline in about two in-game days, meaning I could get Wesley's hearts up almost right away which was nice. Doing this playthrough really made me fall in love with him all over again, he'll always be my favorite character in this game.

Items I gifted to Nel'vari romanceables:

Rubies for Iris

Honey for Wesley

Water crystals for Vaan

Starfish for Lucius

Rubies probably weren't the best option (prickly pears are WAY BETTER for Iris) but I had so many of them that it was just easier for me. Also I never realized that you had to go to the temple of the moon to trigger a cutscene for Lucius because I was always able to catch him next to the pond first thing in the morning, so I had fully convinced myself that my game was bugged until I found a random comment about it on reddit. I'm glad I did, because I was considering divorcing Wesley on my year 3 playthrough just to finish up his achievements.

Here's my wedding with Iris! I ended up marrying her first.

As for Withergate, it's been a slow grind for tickets to progress the story enough to get Vivi. Once I've finished up marrying everyone but Vaan in Nel'vari, I'm going to start really honing in on Withergate progress.

Items I'm gifting to Withergate romanceables:

Withercake/Snobfish for Xyla

Steak/Withercake/Devilfins for Darius

Meat for Donovan

I've also in the meantime have been slowly working on Brinestone Deeps and finished the main storyline for that area today! I've got lemonade for Zaria and fried carp for Karish prepped and ready, so now starts the slow grind to get them to 10 and 20 hearts too.

As for the other achievements I have left besides the romanceables, I've been trying to spend time in my year 3 save to get those, just because I've got a lot more materials to work with. However... man, these other achievements have been a slog to get through. Getting every skill point for a skill tree just feels very annoying, either requiring me to hope that I've got the right amount of materials every day or grinding community tokens again, which isn't the most fun. Also I must have the worst luck on planet earth, because I have not seen the candy slime boss in the battle arena a single time since I started working on this, and its driving me a little insane.

I really don't need to go through another RNG nightmare, not after my genuinely torturous experience with completing the museum. The Nel'vari temple bundle is such a painful bundle to work on, but I won't ramble about it here. Maybe in another post soon.

I will say that fighting and beating Dynus was fun! I'm also very close to completing the Royalty achievement. After that, I should theoretically finish the Better with a Party achievement this weekend, as I've got some friends lined up to help me with that.

But yeah! That's my update for today! I'll post about my gripes with the RNG for some of the things in this game soon :)